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raainberry · 8 days

Text

compliments to the chef

Momo x gn!reader

synopsis - momo falls for her new chef’s flavor🤭 (she’s the sole heiress of the Hirai culinary empire and hiring you spices things up a lot more than she intended.)

wordcount - 14K (please don’t say damn when you see the price)

T/W - kinda chaebol!momo - chef!reader - mentions of food, knifes etc… - nothing violent tho - slowburn? but make it angsty? - light cussing - you lowkey hate each other but not really - enemies to lovers? - guest starring bc that’s fun - that’s all i can think of, tell me if i missed anything

Momo sent a polite smile to the man sitting across from her. The fourteenth in the past half hour.

She’s been keeping count, along with the minutes, the grains of rice left on her plate, and the amount of times he’s mentioned one of his accomplishments.

Thirty-three, seventy-eight, and six; in that order. Only two questions about her so far, one if you remove the one about her name.

She almost left right then and there, but the respect she had for her mother weighed her down on that chair. If she wasn’t going to take over the family empire, the least she could do was find a worthy successor.

A soft sigh escaped her as she pushed her food around. Being an only child was way more fun when all it meant was that she didn’t have to share it with anyone. Or get it stolen, according to the venting of her friends when younger.

She finished the few bites left, trying to drown out the sound of his voice by focusing on the flavours. She closes her eyes, appreciating their delicate yet bold dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Maybe it was the boredom clinging onto whatever could keep her mind entertained, but the taste reminded her of herself. A small smile spread across her lips, the first real one of the day.

The next one came when the man asked for the bill. Her lungs could finally grasp the air around her, her nose picking up on the different notes and aromas of the dishes around her.

She sent her compliments to the chef, adding to them a generous tip she had no idea who’s pockets it’d really land in. It’s the thought that counts.

Her senses were in heaven walking out, engraving her mind with a memory that will stick longer than the guy who’d just made her split the bill, unevenly that is.

“Let me take you home.” He said once out front. His hand held the door open to the leather seats of a luxurious car she was too familiar with.

“Oh, no it’s fine thank you.” She declined quickly. “I actually have a meeting scheduled right after this.”

“I can drop you off.”

Momo almost laughed. She found his use of the personal pronoun very funny. She almost forgot he would just be sitting near her some more while the chauffeur did the sexiest part. If the latter were to her taste, she’d have driven off with her.

“I’d rather not.” She declined. “Business confidentiality and whatnot.”

The lie was forced through an awkward smile that he found endearing enough not to question. Relief washed over her when he finally let go of her, climbing into the car, but not without asking her to keep in touch.

Another sigh, a heavy one, loaded with all those she’d held back until now as she watched the car drive away. The pressure was off, but only for a second as her thoughts soon spiraled.

No way she had to do this again… She reached in her purse, looking for the one thing that could get her out of here.

All this junk, where is it—

“You’re awful at lying.”

Her phone almost dropped to its death from the startle you gave her.

Momo had a few questions at the sight of you. Your presence and your eavesdropping were the first, but the white apron half folded around your waist and the cigarette in your hand answered most of them.

“What,” was all she managed to say though, and a smile pulled on your lips.

“I mean, I’m not fond of lies, but when you’re famous for turning your back on business, you should probably come up with a better excuse.”

“Who even are you?”

“Right, I guess that’s fair. I’m Y/n. You’re Momo, right? Hirai?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her eyes squinted, desperately trying to see what you were leading to.

Your name sounded as unfamiliar as you looked, but you seemed well informed. She didn’t like that.

“Nice to meet you,” You greeted simply, eyeing the contrast between her features and the neat clothes on her back, “So how bad was it? You look… Worn out.”

Her chuckle was distasteful, and she tried to suppress its bitterness at the reminder of her lost time. “Awful. The food caught my eye more than he could ever hope.”

You smiled, “He wasn’t bad looking.”

“But he was a bore.” She argued. “Borderline narcissistic too.”

“Deal breaker then?” You guessed, turning her laughter a little sweeter.

“Pretty much.” Her gaze found the ground in a nod before focusing back on you. “I do like it better when it’s a two way conversation.”

“Does that make me cute?”

She scoffed at the brazen question. “You wish.”

“I don’t.” You dropped your cigarette on the ground, stepping on it in a way she found more hot than revolting to her surprise. That cheeky smile of yours was most likely to blame. “Thank you for the compliments by the way. I’m glad you liked it.”

Your bow was quick, desultory out of rehearsed respectfulness. As much as you appreciated her compliments, you had better things to do in the kitchen that could get you some more.

You caught a glimpse of her jaw dropping on your way back in, and it was enough of a sight to revel in for a few days.

—

It took Momo a couple weeks to pick her jaw back up and swallow her pride. It seemed as though the latter was the only thing she inherited from her family, and she managed to set herself apart yet again.

Her parents would have never set foot in your restaurant again. Not that you had lacked respect or anything, but the fact that you managed to set her off balance… Something about it she didn’t particularly like.

Why was she back then?

You asked yourself that same question when you stormed out of the kitchen at her request. If it weren’t for your manager and his speech about image and reputation, you never would have allowed her to interrupt you and abandon your brigade mid-shift.

Hands on your hips, dragging your feet, you walked into the office she awaited you in and felt your voice die down on your tongue at the sight.

Beauty or surprise, either way it came down to her presence.

The way her hair fell down her back, delicate and blending in with the fabric of her perfectly tailored shirt. The sleek black attire formed a shadow, painting a hole cut against her silhouette and into the spring she admired in the sakura tree out the bay window.

“Hi.” She smiled, her voice a fitting melody to the sights now behind her. Enchanting, sure, but odd.

She wasn’t exactly known to be a warm one to strangers. More power to her, you could understand that. But why didn’t it apply to you?

If it weren’t for the stories associated with that voice suddenly popping into your mind, she’d have lured you in. Nothing too bad about them; only testaments of her success. Rumors about the danger surrounding her, setting her apart from her family. You didn’t care for the big industry names, but theirs always had you curious.

“You asked for me?” Your voice rang in the quiet space.

Momo didn’t seem to notice your apprehension, her smile ever so welcoming, “I did.”

It felt as though she owned the place for a second.

“Do you have some more compliments?” You wondered, eyes following her figure as she went to take a seat in the armchair across your manager’s desk.

“I do actually.” She turned the seat to face you as she mused, “That black cod was to die for.”

You nodded, thankful. “Glad you liked it.”

As much as you didn’t like the way her family capitalized on the food you took such care to value, you couldn’t deny their expertise. Even if not a lot to you, Momo’s compliment did mean something.

“But that’s not all.” Her voice pulled your eyes back on her.

You found her posture quite imposing, matching her tone, but her infamous shyness was something she never got around to master. Her gaze held yours but it lacked control.

It was hard to ignore how endearing the attempt looked to you. It just made you want to give her whatever she wanted. Reward her efforts.

“What is it?” You wondered, curious.

What could she possibly want from you? This restaurant wasn’t yours. The only thing you had control over was the kitchen.

“I want you to cook for me.” She said, and you didn’t leave room for a breath before responding, “Excuse me?”

“I meant I’d like to hire you.” She clarified, a smirk dancing on her lips at your transparent thoughts. You tried to make sense of her proposal, but she didn’t waste any time in providing details. “I’m sure you’re familiar—the annual Hirai banquet my mother holds for shareholders. I never cared for the specifics, but I want to do good by her. I haven’t been the best daughter lately so I thought I’d make it up to her by holding it this year.”

It all clicked at the mention of her mother. Of course she wouldn’t be back with her own motives.

The Hirai Culinary Group was an empire. A home to the most prestigious restaurants of the country. All housing different specialties, techniques and themes… Quite a whole lot to manage yet the quality remained flawless. Fifty years of irreproachable cuisine, you could only respect it. If only they didn’t care about business so much…

Those banquets were popular, talk of the town within the industry as it usually set the next trends and whatnot. Make no mistakes, you were tuned in as well. They did bring in some interesting elements, but you hated the way they set it all up. A disguised year-end performance meeting. White collars expecting numbers and being served them on gold plates, horizons and growth perspectives hidden in desserts.

“So she’s actually the one that asked for me.” You smirked, unexpecting of the way she’d wipe it off just a second later.

“No.” She said simply, a serene smile gracing her lips. “Why would she know about you?”

You scoffed. Good point. You could recognize that despite the blow to your ego.

“Fair enough.” You nodded. “But why should I help you?”

“Help me?” She repeated, a hint of offense creeping into her whole being. “I’m offering you to work with me.”

Perhaps she wasn’t that much of an ugly duckling among the Hirai’s.

“My question still stands. Why should I?”

A silence followed your words, hanging low over your heads and expecting the next ones to come out of her. Hopefully they’d be good enough.

Momo’s gaze suddenly drifted from yours, finding interest in her surroundings. A few details she’d noticed earlier, various frames highlighting the establishment’s foundations. She could count three of them : its history, the owner and visibly the most important—you.

“Are you happy here?” She finally spoke, tearing her eyes away from your latest reward.

“I am.”

“I’m sure you are,” she remarked, tone striking a nerve. “Highest rank, valued both within and outside—you’re basically ruling the place…”

“What’s your point?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You’ve hit the ceiling, Y/n. It’s time for a new challenge, don’t you think?”

Silence enveloped you again as you found yourself contemplating her proposition.

Momo took the sight as a sign of her job being done here, and you watched as she left her business card on the desk before gracefully excusing herself; leaving you to deal with your internal struggle.

—

In the days that followed, her offer continued to linger in your thoughts, and with each passing day, the idea of a new challenge began to take root in your mind.

It spread enough to takeover a good portion of it, sending it all elsewhere. Far enough for your closest friend here and sous-chef to notice.

“What’s up with you, you’ve been all over the place lately.” Jeongyeon asked after you nearly knocked an nth plate to the floor.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You met her gaze and it was enough to backtrack on your words “Okay, fine there is something, but… I don’t know it’s pointless.”

The empty pot you were carrying resonated as you put it back into its designated place, partially covering Jeongyeon’s words. “Does it have to do with that Hirai girl?”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the only thing out of the ordinary enough to throw you off your game.” She chuckled, drying her hands on her apron.

Weird way to tell you to live a little more, but okay.

“So what did she say to you?” She sighed, leaning her back against the sink. “What even happened in the office, you never told us.”

“Well…” You trailed off, gettng that business card out of your back pocket. You handed it to her, and it took her a second to notice what it was.

“What are you waiting for?” She scoffed, causing your eyebrows to furrow together.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever she proposed just accept it, Y/n”

You spotted a hint of annoyance in her voice, but you had trouble seeing if it was about you or Momo. She sure was scrubbing that counter pretty hard.

“Why?” You asked, watching as she practically polished that stainless steel by hand. Something bothered you, and it wasn’t her cleaning technique. “Are you not even gonna fight for me?”

Jeongyeon paused to look at you, catching the slight pout on your lips. Her own twisted along her features in disgust, teasing you, and you let out your first laugh of the day.

“I should be the one asking you that.” She pointed out. “The fact that you haven’t thrown that card as soon as she left tells me enough.”

“I was just thinking about it…” You admitted, only proving her point.

Jeongyeon chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re past the point of even considering it, I mean… You’ve been walking around with that business card glued to your ass for the past week, yet you haven’t told me a thing about it.”

“You think you know me so well.” You grimaced. It was playful, but part of you wanted to provoke her. You didn’t blame her for that small jab at you, but it did hurt to think she didn’t put turning your back on this place past you.

She did know you so well, though. That’s why she continued to argue her point.

“What is there to think about, y/n? The heiress of the most acclaimed and prestigious restaurant chain of the country is asking for you. No sane person would say no, never mind a chef!”

The sigh that pushed past your lips came as far back as your lungs.

“Would you say yes?” You hesitated after a while, but her answer was much faster. “With no remorse.”

“I mean, have you seen her?” She added and you laughed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll call her…” You picked up the card from the counter and stared at her name.

Well… It’s not like she had asked you to quit your job…

—

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

“What?!”

Momo pulled the phone away from her ear at the sheer volume of your voice through the speaker. How unprofessional. Her eyes rolled soon after, once she registered what your reaction held and meant for her plans.

“Y/n, this isn’t some side hustle for your experience.” she sighed, “I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. If this all goes well, you could become our youngest chef in history.”

A point was made. As much as you were cautious of her voice, it seemed you couldn’t do much about the way it managed to get to you. The words she used were ambitious, they spoke to you.

But she failed to measure just how ambitious you were.

“Why can’t I do both?” You finally asked, prompting a string of arguments being thrown to one another. A futile game of ping-pong you were determined to win, only irritating the woman at the other end of the line.

All this whining, it was like dealing with a child, and truthfully you felt like one. Asking for the best of both worlds seemed completely reasonable to you, so why wouldn’t she give it to you.

“Listen, you can’t give your all to something if your attention is split in two.” She said, losing the last bit of patience she managed to keep today. “You can’t expect to grow by splitting yourself in half, and if you think otherwise, then consider my proposal void.”

A small silence fell over the line. She made sense. She was right. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to accept it?

“If you actually stepped foot in a kitchen once in your life you’d know two isn’t even the minimum.” You scoffed.

Whatever you wanted to mean by that… even you didn’t know, but apparently it was worth thinking over as you heard Momo sigh.

The woman closed her eyes to think.

Why couldn’t you just say yes like everyone else she approached. Maybe she should have made you say it back in the office, use that pathetic confidence of yours against you.

Oh how easy you were to read and see through. Pushing buttons was so much easier when people stood in front of her.

That’s why she hated phone calls. How could she know what to say—oh.

The light bulb went off over her head.

Right… That pathetic confidence of yours.

“I’ll step in if you do.”

—

It shouldn’t have been so easy.

All it took was a half-genuine smile, and a simple promise to make things different this year with a focus on the culinary side of things. Sure, she had to admit to scouting the area in search of the most skilled and promising, which eventually lead her to your restaurant, and then… you. But it was all ego strokes. Child’s play.

Part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped for a little more resistance, a challenge promised by your initial tone and attitude towards her.

“Damn it!”

She should be more careful about what she wishes for… Momo sighed, expecting your face to peek in by the doorframe of the manager’s office, and it did just seconds later.

“Momo, it’s not working.”

“What isn’t?” She said, confused. Machinery’s top-notch, brigade is her best, there was no way anything would stop working out of nowhere.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, just come and see.”

Momo stared at you, noticing a smile fighting to make its way onto your lips. She was apprehensive but followed you anyway.

You’d been working on a technical plate : a type of hybrid dish-dessert. An ambitious idea you’d prompted to Momo during one of the early meetings to work the menu out.

Only she had to make it an order. A boring one and near impossible to pull off. She wouldn’t listen, so you decided to show her.

As you led her to the kitchen, you couldn't help but start venting away about everything that went down since the last time she'd stepped foot in there, which was a day or two ago.

"So, first, the soufflé collapsed twice because someone—I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'intern’—forgot to preheat the oven."

Momo sighed internally. Why were you so fixated on every little mistake? Who cares about interns and their mistakes, that’s what they’re here for. She could excuse a non-preheated oven, but forgetting her birthday? Yeah, that Boo Seungkwan is definitely off the list. He had a good run, only regret was he was good with her dogs. And nice maybe.

"Then, the new mixer decided it wanted to be a blender, and let's not even talk about the chocolate ganache incident."

She nodded absently, her mind drifting to the text she received earlier from another potential suitor. The daughter of her family ‘s right hand man, Jihyo if she remembered correctly? The Park’s had a rocky history though, she took note to raise her guard on that one before your voice pulled her back.

"And of course, the sugar sculpture? Total disaster."

Momo glanced at you, wondering if you realized how whiny you sounded. She had bigger fish to fry than a failed sugar sculpture, like figuring out if she even wanted to leave this family business. If it meant she had to deal with one more daddy’s pocket leech…

"On the bright side, we finally perfected the citrus glaze for the salmon, and the guests couldn't get enough of the hors d'oeuvres last night, so I guess the test was a success.."

When you finally stopped talking and walking, she found herself face to face with an… interesting looking thing on a plate.

“What is that?” She said, dumbfounded.

“Oh, that’s the lemon pie thing you asked for.” You answered nonchalantly. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Are you serious?” Her stance and tone changed, cold and threatening like you had the joy of experiencing earlier this month. Didn’t shake you anymore though. The dumb smile on your face was still there, dangerously creeping into a smirk. She couldn’t wipe it for some reason.

“Yeah, that sucks. I guess I lost three hours of my life.” You shrugged, eyes lingering on the edible failure staining the porcelain. “Doesn’t taste bad, though.” You handed her a piece with a spoon you’d clearly already used, and Momo’s stare hardened.

“Fix this.”

Obviously, you would. But you couldn’t let it happen without messing with her first. So you stared right back into her eyes, holding her gaze just long enough to make her doubt and fear the opposite. The tension hung thick in the air, reaching a new high, until she finally broke away and walked off, her frustration evident in every step.

You watched her walk, the smirk now very apparent and mocking her back.

“I’ll do just that, you don’t have to worry.” You cupped your hands around your lips to make sure she heard it, distracting a few chefs around you.

You were oblivious to the looks they threw your way, your gaze was focused on Momo’s retreating figure.

"I'll leave you some on your desk, make sure to try it!” That smirk was evident on your lips, and she could hear it in your voice, feel it getting under her skin.

You were a challenge alright. A damn good one.

—

Momo walked back into the building only days later. You frowned at the sight of her, shoulders obviously tense paired with familiar sour features. The exposed skin told you a lot about her potential whereabouts these past few days. Added to the rumors going around, it didn’t leave that much of a mystery…

“Oh, we’re cooked.” Ryujin, the intern, mumbled under her breath, catching yours and a chef’s attention.

“Yeah, we should have seen it coming.” The chef, Mingyu, sighed, dropping a heavy pan on top of the counter beside you.

“Why, what happened?” You asked, easing yourself into their conversation.

Ryujin’s eyes widened, startled by the interruption. “I uh,” she stammered before Mingyu spoke up.

“Word on the street is, her father set her up with Park's daughter.” He chuckled to himself, making you curious.

“Park’s daughter… The Park branch daughter?” You asked, the name ringing more and more familiar. “You mean Jihyo? Isn’t she managing the H-Lounge?”

H-Lounge was a private, high end rooftop lounge managed by Mr.Park, Mr.Hirai’s right hand man. Big bar, little food, and big walls; a white collar’s favorite and the Hirai’s most profitable branch. From what you knew, Jihyo’s been pretty much running things for years now, her father only still there because of Momo’s.

“Yeah, but she’s on her way to the throne basically. Her dad’s been pushing for her to take the reins for a while now. Old man’s tired.” Mingyu commented, pulling a laugh out of Ryujin.

You squinted, watching as Momo disappeared around the corner to her office.

“Yeah. But didn’t they try to go solo with the Lounge once?” Ryujin asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she recalled rumors from a year ago. “Sounds kinda fishy.”

“And shady.” Mingyu nodded. “Seems to me like Boss Hirai’s desperate to make her stay.”

“Which one?”

You were confused out of your mind, and Mingyu could tell. He was amused when you met his eyes, begging for some clarity.

“Both,” he said. “Power play. Or two birds one stone type of deal. A Park-Hirai marriage would be beyond convenient for him—Jihyo’s a hot head, she could never hold this whole thing together without Momo stepping in at one point, he knows that. It’s the only way he gets to keep both of his most precious assets.”

You shook your head. There was no way. The idea didn’t even match with the Momo you knew. "I don't see it. Momo's way too stubborn and prideful to let something like this happen to her. She's not the type to be manipulated like that."

"You think?" Ryujin asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you see how she handles things... Father or not, she won't just bend to someone else's will.”

Mingyu shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes glued on Momo’s figure passing by. "I think she already is..."

You all watched as she disappeared around the corner to her office, and you noticed her shoulders slump for the briefest of moments

It was a slight, almost imperceptible shift, but it struck you deeply for some reason. For the first time, you saw a crack in that impossibly unyielding façade.

A mix of concern and confusion washed over you. Despite the fierce exterior she projected on that comeback walk, there was clearly more weighing on her than she let on. Could Mingyu be right? Was Momo already being pulled back into the company's grasp despite that stubborn pride of hers?

You felt a rush of protectiveness overcome you, but quickly pushed it aside. What a useless, unbased feeling. Momo was fine. She wouldn't let herself be manipulated so easily… Right?

You pondered on the question for a while, but came up with the same answer every time.

She’ll be fine.

You sighed as the day wound down, leaning against a counter. Your gaze wandered to the door to Momo’s office, finding it closed as always. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen nor heard it open since earlier that afternoon…

Was she still there?

Curiosity and concern got the better of you, and you decided to take the opportunity to show her the new and improved lemon pie she’d asked you to fix.

You made your way to her office, the building now eerily quiet. You didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. It was surprisingly dark, only lit by a small hanging light attached to the wall above the desk. This place was such a broom closet… You almost felt sorry for her then remembered what she’d told you.

"Technically this is still the kitchen, this wall is literal plastic."

You mentally scoffed at the memory. You couldn't believe the pettiness of that woman.

"What is that?" Momo asked, her eyes lifting from the paper for the first time in what felt like days.

Whatever was in that plate definitely looked better than the last thing you’d presented her. It held a certain finesse she wasn’t indifferent to.

"It's the pie you asked for," you said, eyes twinkling in pride. “Well, a deconstructed version of it.”

“It’s not what I asked for,” she trailed off, observing the fine details. Her eyes traced the delicate swirls of meringue and the vibrant yellow of the lemon gel. It wasn't what she had originally envisioned, but there was a beauty to it she couldn't deny. "But it's pretty."

You smiled, taking a seat on a corner of her desk as you pulled out a spoon as an offering. A clean one this time.

She was hesitant. Messing the dish up would feel like a crime, but so was leaving food unattended. So she finally dug in, picking up a bit of everything before humming at the taste of it all.

“Tastes the same as the failure, just… so much better.”

Your face lit up at the mention of that failed attempt a few days earlier. You’d kept your word and left it at her desk, hoping she’d have a taste despite the failure. It still had potential, and you wanted her to know.

“You had some?” Your eyes sparkled, and it made you look so much sweeter than you’d been lately. Momo felt herself falter for a second, slipping you a gentle smile before catching herself.

She cleared her throat, lowering the spoon down, the latter clattering on the porcelain as she went for another bite.

“I did.” She nodded. “You were right by the way. It wasn’t bad at all, just… unfortunate looking.”

You were only surprised she was admitting it; and this easily no less.

“So what do we do now? Do we listen to me more, or…?”

Momo sighed, and a victorious smile made its way to your lips before she even uttered the words. “Fine. You can freestyle a bit.” You cheered, and it took a lot for her not to mirror your happiness. “Don’t get too excited. You better follow the menu.”

“Or then what?”

She only glared at you, and the switch in her gaze was enough to turn you down. Or on. [What?]

“I’m kidding. Glad to be working with you.” You said, flashing her a grin that she could only see as cocky.

Momo's eyes rolled in annoyance, getting up from her seat and picking up the blazer on the back of it. As she gathered her stuff, you understood she was going home for the day. It was getting late, the restaurant had closed a couple hours ago and all the staff was gone too. You should get going too, but you feel a sudden pang of reluctance…

“You're going already?" You blurt out, unable to suppress the urge to keep her here just a little while longer.

Momo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. "You just shook my hand," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but..." you trail off, grasping at your brain for any excuse to keep her here a moment longer. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand either, but there was something about her presence that you find strangely comforting in the moment.

Maybe it was the lack of noise and chaos in the background, behind the office door she kept closed; only for you to burst it open anytime you had a complaint or an idea.

The silence, the dim lighting, their absence or her presence… Or the fact that she was actually pleased with your work for once. Explicitly at least. Most likely a gas leak you didn’t know about that messed with your thoughts—you couldn’t tell. But it was something.

There was something keeping you glued to that desk.

She was about to leave again, but this time you reached out and grabbed her hand, your fingers closing around hers in a firm grip. Both of you froze, the air suddenly charged with… again, something as you held her gaze.

"You said you'd be stepping in," you blurted out once more, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching as her mind raced to make sense of your words.

When she’d told you she’d step in, she didn’t think you’d take it seriously. That was her first mistake maybe, but to her, stepping in meant overseeing the preparations, making decisions about the menu, and handling the logistical details of the banquet. She never intended to actually cook alongside you, and quite frankly, she didn’t know how you could possibly think she would.

Were you stupid or purposefully getting on her nerves like you so often seemed to enjoy? Didn't you realize she had other responsibilities, obligations she had to take care of over cooking?

This was literally why she’d sought you out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"You haven't helped once in the kitchen since we started, and it's basically been a month," You retorted, your tone edged with frustration. "For someone who prides herself on integrity, you sure are amazing at keeping your word."

Your words were like a slap to the face, and Momo felt a surge of defensiveness rise within her. Your claims sure were bold for someone who did nothing but defy her words ever since the beginning.

But beneath the anger, there's a stain of guilt, a nagging feeling that maybe - just maybe - you might have a point. From a certain angle, you could say she did kind of manipulate you into working for her by throwing that phrase; or let’s call it as it was : an empty promise.

Momo sighed as she struggled to find the right words to get herself out of this. Your gaze was merciless on her, probing and insistent as you waited for an explanation. Or just admittance.

"I meant overseeing things, making decisions about the menu, handling the logistics, the usual," she finally explained, her frustration evident in her tone. "I still have a million other things to take care of for that banquet, you know. It's not like I can just drop everything and spend all day cooking with you."

She paused, searching your face for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but all she found was a stubborn determination. A refusal to back down from your position. And despite herself, she felt a small spark of admiration flickered to life within her.

"Look," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I appreciate your dedication, I really do. But you have to understand that I can't just drop everything to cater to your whims. I have a responsibility to my family, to our guests, to ensure that everything goes smoothly. And if that means I have to delegate certain tasks to you, then so be it."

Her words were only met with silence. She waited for your response, bracing herself for another confrontation. But to her surprise, you nodded, a hint of understanding in your eyes.

The relief washing over her heart at the sight startled her. Why did she want to see it? Why did she want you to understand anyway?

"Alright," you said, your voice calm and measured. "I get it. I just... I guess I was hoping for more, you know? More than just orders and instructions. I wanted to be a part of something. Contribute in a meaningful way."

“You are a part of something, Y/n,” she reassured, and the hand she dropped on your shoulder caught you off guard. Her gaze had softened, but it only made you panic.

Here comes the guilt tripping, you mentally sighed, bracing for impact.

Before you could even muster an attempt to deflect the incoming emotional onslaught, she continued, her words flowing with as much determination as you were used to. "You know, this banquet isn’t just another project for me. It may not seem like it, but I care about it a lot. I take it as a farewell, a thank you to my family and the opportunities they’ve gifted me."

You opened your mouth to intervene, to offer some semblance of resistance, but she plowed on, crushing any attempts to cut in. "And not only are you a part of it, you’re leading it, Y/n. I trust you."

The words hit like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. One of the rare times in your life. Here you were, caught in the midst of a heartfelt moment, unable to muster even a hint of humor to lighten the mood. With a silent sigh, you resigned yourself to the inevitable, silently acknowledging her words.

All you could do was drop your gaze, nodding. You almost felt shameful for trying to ignore her possibly having feelings.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You muttered, fiddling with your fingers before looking back at her. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Food wise at least.”

Momo nodded in acknowledgment, finally removing her hand from your shoulder. Her feet stuttered before turning away. She’d made it to the door pretty quickly, but a sudden thought halted her tracks.

The sudden stop in the sound of her expensive heels caught your attention, and you looked up at her. Your gaze and eyebrows silently inquired her, and she smiled sheepishly. Another display of vulnerability that made your heart jump.

“Can I bring that home?”

Momo nodded towards the desk, referring to the unfinished dessert you’d brought her. She wanted to take it to her mother. Give her a preview of what was to come in a couple weeks.

The request made you smile. A little happy if you dared to say so. You reached for the plate to hand it to her, only to take it with you as you finally got up from that desk. “Wait, let me get you a takeout box.”

“We have takeout boxes?” She said, dumbfounded. You only stared at her, speechless but not surprised. You could only shake your head, before leading the way to the kitchen.

“I was just kidding by the way, I know we have them.”

She didn’t. Something you proved when you made her search for them. You let her walk around and act as though she had any idea where anything was in that kitchen before she gave up and surrendered to your amused, almost mocking gaze.

You added a few more of the day’s tests and leftovers into the box before packing it all up before sending her home with a smile.

She was nice to be around when you weren’t trying to step on each other’s toes.

—

The dining room of the Hirai residence was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over an overly elegant table set for two. The head of the table felt empty with her father’s absence, a recurring one lately as he tended to matters deemed important for the company. Momo usually sat on his right, like she did tonight. Her mother, Mrs. Hirai, took her seat right across. Despite the picturesque scene, a palpable tension lingered in the air. Another recurrence Momo dreaded every day for months now.

Momo longed for the laughter that used to bring her family together around this table. The same one she announced her intent on renouncing to the heiress title. The same seat she’d left holding back tears at the words her father had thrown at her over a year ago.

Mr. Hirai never meant any of them, she knew that. He’d told her that, apologized soon after and long ago. But the thought, the scene, the sound… It’ll always tug at her heart, and dig the tears from deep within.

Momo swallowed hard at the sudden flashback, suppressing the pain. She managed to do that quite well; better as time passed.

The only problem was how she still couldn’t say a word at this table.

Conversation flowed in fits and starts as both women picked at their plate. Mrs. Hirai seemed determined to bridge the gap growing between them, her attempts at small talk falling flat against Momo's stony silence.

Then came a time where she was unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. The older woman cleared her throat and fixed her daughter with a searching gaze. "Momo, dear, I must say, this is all absolutely divine. You must have put a lot of thought into it."

Momo glanced up, her eyes meeting her mother's briefly before returning to her plate. "Actually, it’s Y/n who’s behind it all," she admitted, her tone guarded.

Mrs. Hirai's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y/n? The new chef at your restaurant?"

Momo nodded, her mind already bracing for the inevitable conversation about her future. “A real talent for sure. Lots of potential. The whole experimenting thing is something we needed.”

Concern etched Mrs. Hirai's features before she composed herself, her expression becoming more serious. "Momo, don’t you want to reconsider at least once?”

Momo's shoulders tensed, steeling herself for the argument she knew was about to unfold. "Mom, we've been over this. I've made up my mind."

Mrs. Hirai regarded her daughter with a mixture of resignation and disbelief. "Think about what you’ll be leaving behind, it makes no sense! This company is your birthright, it’s your legacy, you have to uphold it."

Momo sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I know, Mom, but I just don't want it. You’re asking me to be the head of it all as if I haven’t just been taking orders and following plans my whole life. I’m telling you I can’t bear all that, I don’t…"

Tears pricked at Momo’s eyes, “I don’t want to fail.”

"I understand, dear.” Mrs. Hirai's expression softened, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “But you have a responsibility to the family, to your father's legacy."

"I'm trying, Mom! Why do you think I go on all these dates for?" Momo's frustration boiled over, her voice rising slightly.

Mrs. Hirai recoiled slightly at the sudden outburst, her expression pained. "Well, it is taking a while," she murmured, "Maybe you should reconsider your approach."

Momo's jaw clenched, her frustration only mounting. "It's not my fault they're all brainless," she muttered, stabbing at the poor short ribs you’d braised to perfection. "Half of them are grossly aroused by your pockets. If you're fine with that, then tell me, and I'll gladly shorten the process."

Mrs. Hirai sighed, a mix between sorrow and anger. "Momo, we just want what's best for you. The company is important, yes, but so is your happiness."

As much as the company mattered to her parents, Momo’s happiness came above all. They’d worked so hard to provide for her, to ensure she never lacked anything. Especially love. Theirs had birthed this wonderful girl, whom they nurtured with, only wishing for her to find her own.

Seeing their daughter ready to sacrifice such a value broke their hearts more than her leaving the company.

"I know, Mom. I just wish..." Momo's shoulders sagged, her anger dissipating as she met her mother's gaze.

Mrs. Hirai saw the opportunity to mention what's been lingering on her mind. "I noticed your father has been setting you up with Jihyo. She's a capable woman, and the Park family is influential. It could be a good match for both of you, professionally and personally."

Momo scoffed, tearing through the last of her cutlet. "Jihyo’s basically the daughter of our closest enemy. She’s a wild card, Mom.”

Mrs. Hirai blinked, taken aback by Momo's bluntness. It was a true definition, but such frank acknowledgment of their family's associates was rarely spoken aloud. It felt like breaking a taboo.

“Momo—”

“Listen, she's a nice enough person, but she's not what I need nor want. I know Dad thinks that pushing me towards her will make me stay in the company and keep things stable. Nice try, but we’re not six, and it's not fair to either of us."

Mrs. Hirai's face softened, "Momo, he just wants to make you jealous,” she said, a light chuckle leaving her lips.

“What?”

“You’re giving your father too much credit, as always.” She shook her head, clearly amused. “Remember when you actually were six and didn’t want to go to bed? The way he went to grab the dog and act all cuddly with it, instead of you? He’s doing the same with Jihyo. Grabbing the closest thing to replace you, hoping you’ll come tear it up and claim your place again.”

Momo's eyes widened, processing her mother's words. She was over here claiming she was so old and mature now, but he was doing the same thing as when she was young. Getting a hold of the closest, emotionally threatening enough thing around to get her to listen to him.

"So... he's not serious about Jihyo?"

Mrs. Hirai sighed. "He's serious about wanting you to stay. He thinks seeing Jihyo in your place will make you reconsider."

Momo shook her head, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. "I don't want to be manipulated like this. I want my decisions to be mine, not because Dad is playing games."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's. "I understand, dear. But sometimes, those who love us most will do anything to keep us close."

Momo's lip trembled. "I don’t care, it's not fair, Mom. How can you be okay with this?"

Hearing her mother back her father’s insane behavior was heartbreaking. Disappointing. Momo's chest tightened, a nauseating mix of frustration and betrayal surging within her as she caught her mother’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm not saying I agree with his methods, Momo. But I know he's scared. Scared of losing you."

Momo looked down, her tears finally spilling over. "I just want to live my own life, make my own choices. Why can't he understand that?"

Her mother sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Because he loves you, and he's afraid. Afraid that without the company, without us, you'll be lost. He doesn't realize how strong you've become."

Momo shook her head, frustration and sadness mingling in her heart. "I wish he could see that."

Mrs. Hirai nodded, her voice gentle. "Show him, Momo. The banquet is yours. Let him see what you can achieve on your own terms. Prove to him that you're capable of making your own choices and succeeding."

Momo took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "You really think that will make a difference?"

Mrs. Hirai offered her a soft smile. "I do. Just be patient.”

Momo nodded, though the weight of her father's manipulations still pressed heavily on her heart. As she focused back on the food on her plate, her thoughts wandered back to you, and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

That glimmer of hope, it burned softly within her heart. Still too weak for her to feel anything other than relief at the thought of you.

—

“Can you at least pretend to be useful?” You snapped, slamming an oven door shut. “I need everyone on deck, and you’re just standing there complaining!”

The kitchen was bustling, the whole brigade rushing around to perfect their dishes as the deadline for the banquet loomed closer. Momo had scheduled a tasting tonight, placing you at the heart of the chaos. You tried to maintain control and ensure everything was perfect, but it was hard doing so when someone seemed determined to get in your way.

Momo's behavior had shifted over the past two weeks. She'd started paying more attention, trying to be more involved. It wasn't purely altruistic—she saw a silver lining in your presence. One that could solve all her problems. You challenged her in ways she hadn't experienced since her rookie days, igniting a new source of motivation. For once, she felt driven, compelled to prove herself.

So she decided to make you feel at ease—for her own gain, yes, but you won something in the deal, didn't you?

After that night in the office, she made it a point to be around more, offering assistance, and listening to you more.

It was promising.

But she had to ruin that too.

Today, she decided to supervise the brigade as you prepared for tonight's tasting. Her presence was only getting in the way of everyone, especially you. You tried to keep your focus, but Momo's constant hovering and her split attention were grating on your nerves.

As she stood in the kitchen, her phone buzzed constantly with texts from Jihyo. She tried to juggle the mounting pressure from her father, the complications with Jihyo, and her responsibilities; but it was obviously getting too much on one plate.

You glanced at Momo, noticing the tension in her posture, the way she bit her lip as she read her messages. The way she moved, the way her eyes sparked with intensity—it all captivated you for a second, distracting you in ways you didn't need at the moment.

Momo’s irritation mirrored yours. She snapped her head up from her phone, eyes blazing. "I would if you gave me anything remotely interesting to do. I won't just fetch things for you like some errand boy."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way her anger only seemed to add to her intensity. “Seriously? Picking and choosing at a time like this? If you were just going to screw me over you shouldn’t have bothered in the first place!”

Momo only chuckled, “Really? Because I could have sworn you’d begged for me to be here.”

“Right.” You nodded. “When I did that I didn’t think you’d take it as an invite to smear yourself all over anything I do again. We agreed you’d let me handle the kitchen, why are you so hellbent on keeping tabs, just let me do my job!”

“This whole thing was my idea.” Momo shot back, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. That name you’re so proud of means nothing without my backing.”

“You’re not doing anything but sabotaging yourself.” Your voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “I’m gonna need you to take your eyes off your own ass and look around you. Who do you recognize?”

Momo stayed silent, her mind racing. She glanced around, seeing the faces and eyes focused on her—some confused, some irritated. She realized she couldn’t put a single name to any of them. Her heart sank as the reality of her detachment hit her. The bustling kitchen, the brigade working tirelessly, and she couldn’t even acknowledge their efforts properly.

She felt a knot of frustration and embarrassment tightening in her chest.

You chuckled, “See what happens when you’re too busy playing corporate princess? Just let me f****** handle it.”

Her anger flared again, some kind of defense against the sting of that realization. “You think you’re so indispensable, don’t you?” she hissed. “That your presence is the only thing holding this together? Get over yourself, Y/n.”

“Sure I will. Please, lead the way like you so beautifully know how!” You gestured, hands as sarcastic as your tone.

The tension was palpable, your breaths mingling as you stood face to face, neither willing to back down. For a moment, it seemed like the argument might escalate further, but then Momo broke eye contact, her gaze shifting to her surroundings.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she spat, voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You think you’ve done such a great job running this s***show, huh?”

When she looked back at you, her eyes met yours with nothing but anger as something else she couldn’t quite place tried to ease itself in. She hated the way you managed to make her feel—vulnerable, exposed.

“You better prove it tonight or I’ll make sure you’ll regret ever stepping into this kitchen.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing amidst the chaos, that short and fragile truce between you two shattered yet again.

Tasting sure was going to be interesting…

—

That same night, the dining room was elegantly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen earlier in the day. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, casting delicate reflections under the soft, ambient lighting. Momo sat between her parents, a tight smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. Around the table were key senior staff members, trusted friends, and a few family members, all eager to sample the menu.

You, along with your brigade, moved seamlessly between the kitchen and the dining room. You made sure to put your hard earned skills to use, presenting each course with a practiced grace, detailing the inspiration and techniques behind every dish. Despite the tension in the air linking you to Momo, your professionalism never faltered, though your eyes rarely left the plates you were serving.

Each course was met with nods of approval, murmurs of appreciation, and the occasional question, which you answered with an admirable precision. Momo, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on her plate. Her parents exchanged glances, concern etching their features.

When dessert was finally brought out, a hush fell over the table. You presented the dish—the deconstructed lemon meringue pie—explaining the delicate balance of flavors and textures. The room filled with the scent of citrus and caramelized sugar.

"Momo," Mrs. Hirai's voice cut through the murmurs, "you haven't said much tonight. What do you think?"

Momo looked up, her eyes meeting her mother's before shifting uncomfortably to the food in front of her. She felt the weight of everyone's gaze, including yours as you had paused in your explanation to listen.

"It's... it's very well done," she finally said, her voice painfully devoid of any enthusiasm. "The team has done an excellent job."

Her father frowned, leaning forward. "You can do better than that. Your opinion matters here. Speak up."

Momo's jaw tightened. She spent the entire evening avoiding your gaze, the argument from earlier still fresh and raw. Both of you were acting like children after a petty feud over a toy, going out of your way to avoid acknowledging each other.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "The dessert is innovative and beautifully executed. It’s exactly what I envisioned for the banquet."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and annoyance, recognizing the lie she’d just pushed through her teeth. She hadn’t envisioned anything—you’d fought tooth and nail over every detail up until hours ago.

"Thank you, Momo," Your voice strained in an attempt to stay polite. "I'm glad it meets your expectations."

The air grew thicker with obviously unspoken words. Momo’s parents exchanged another glance, sensing the underlying tension.

Mr. Hirai cleared his throat. "It’s important for us to be honest during these tastings. If there’s anything that needs to be improved, now is the time to speak up."

Momo felt her irritation grow. "I said it's fine, Father."

"Momo, we're just trying to help.” Her mother interjected gently, “If there’s anything you're not happy with, you need to communicate that."

That’s when you decided to step in, your tone sharp. "I think we all understand the importance of feedback. I have to say Momo's input has been invaluable—despite her current silence."

Momo's eyes flashed with anger. "Invaluable? Really? Seems to me like my input has been more of an inconvenience to you."

Your jaw clenched. "I never said that. But if you actually participated instead of hovering, it might be more constructive."

"Participated?” She shot back. “You mean following your every whim? I have better things to do than micromanage your kitchen."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. You caught Momo's parents looking between you and their daughter, realizing just how deep the rift had reached.

Mrs. Hirai spoke up first to try and defuse the situation. "Let’s not forget why we're here. The food is excellent, and we’re all looking forward to the banquet. Let’s focus on that."

Momo took a deep breath, faking a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're right. The food is great. Let's enjoy it."

But the damage was done. The altercation had cast a shadow over the evening and lingered in the air, unresolved and simmering just below the surface.

—

The kitchen was finally empty, the last of the staff having been dismissed for the night. You leaned against the counter, the cool steel pressing into your back as you took a moment to breathe. The day had been long and grueling, but at least the tasting was a success, earning yourself and your brigade a few days of rest before the banquet.

You should feel relieved, at least a little bit, you knew that. Yet you couldn’t break free from the weight of the air around you, mounted with tension from yours and Momo’s altercation.

It was suffocating. The hold she had on you, you could say you’d allowed it if only you could put a stop to it. If you at least wanted to make it stop…

The sound of the door to the kitchen creaking open halted your thoughts and Momo stepped inside. You could tell by the heels clicking softly on the tiled floor, and the way you instantly straightened yourself.

You watched her approach with guarded eyes, noticing her arms crossed over her chest. You mirrored her posture when she came close enough, crossing your own, guarding yourself up.

Momo noticed, eyes flickering to the tattoos peeking from beneath your rolled-up sleeves. She hadn’t seen those a lot, only finding out you had them when she started hanging around the kitchen more. Might have been a reason for her to do so, asking you to go and reach for utensils high-up just to peek.

She shook the thoughts away, finding your eyes and focusing on them. “Hey,” she began, her voice softer than you were used to. “Good job.”

The words almost made you choke. You swallowed hard, mouth drying up at the bitterness suddenly filling your heart. Momo waited for an answer, probably feeling entitled to one before she remembered you’d never given in to her.

“How are you feeling?” She tried again, leaning against the counter across from you. Her soft tone matched her eyes this time, so you allowed yourself to answer her.

“Fine, I guess.” You shrugged, eyes sweeping the floor. “It went well.”

She nodded, hesitating. “Yeah, it did. My parents were impressed.”

“That’s good to hear.” You replied, not looking at her.

Momo took a deep breath, steeling herself. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I’m the one who started yelling. Wasn't really professional of me."

You chuckled, finally meeting her eyes. "Did you just apologize? Didn't know you had it in you."

Her irritation flared once more. "I'm serious, Y/n. I get that this isn’t something you’re used to from me, but I can admit I was out of line."

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands. "Apology accepted."

You were so… nonchalant about it. As if you couldn’t care less. If you were honest, you could, but the reaction you were having didn’t exactly reflect that. It wasn’t the one she expected and she didn’t like it.

She almost started another argument before catching herself. Her jaw clenched, holding back some words to replace them with others she deemed more… gentle. Better suited to air out her frustrations. “Why are you still so defensive? The tasting went well anyway, didn’t it? Everything was perfect, my parents loved it, and everything has your name on it. You got what you wanted so why the attitude? Stop being so childish.”

That kind of shut you up. Momo couldn’t believe the silence that followed her words. She was right, you were adult enough to admit that. Just not enough to do it out loud. Not enough not to talk back.

You just had to do it for some reason. Maybe it was because her words struck a nerve, hitting closer to home than you were willing to admit.

"Fine," you muttered. "But you’re not exactly making it easy."

You honestly felt like a child, not being able to process or understand what's happening, so you took out your frustrations the only way you knew how to : throwing a tantrum.

Momo sighed, exasperated. "Are you going to keep this up during the banquet too? Does talking back to me and disregarding me turn you on or something?"

You scoffed, but it’s painfully evident in the moment, that you’re indeed attracted to her. But you’d never admit that either. You wouldn’t because, apart from her being attractive, you can’t tell why that is. “You wish.”

“You know what, maybe I do.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and Momo caught you struggling. She wanted—no, she needed—to let you know. That you couldn’t hide from her. Yet her lips refused to do anything else than let you know her own truth.

“Maybe then I could make a reason out of your behavior,” she whispered, words trembling in frustration.

Silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but odd. Eerie. Neither of you knew what the next words would be or where they’d come from, but you sure were getting ready for them.

Her eyes weren't looking into yours anymore. They were searching, reflecting, maybe even reaching out to her own fears. You saw it—the shift, the hesitation.

You didn’t expect her to speak up first.

“If you can’t do it for me then do it for yourself,” she started, “If this fails my family will take a hit, sure, but ultimately you and I both know we’ll be fine. Your career’s the only thing on the line here.”

Her voice was cold, icy, cutting through your ego with reminders of where you stood in this environment. In this industry. She jabbed her finger against your chest, making each one of her points clear and painful.

So you grabbed her hand, pushing it down with enough force to make a statement and let your stubbornness shine through yet again

"Don't," your voice low, enough of a threat to pull a reaction out of her too.

Momo's patience snapped. She grabbed a fistful of your white button-up, creasing up your pride and pulling you closer, her eyes not leaving yours.

You noticed for the first time, just how pretty she was and how dangerous that is. Your heart was desperate to make you feel it, practically racing against her own.

“You know what,” a smirk quivered on your lips at how tightly she held onto you. “Maybe this is all about more than just work.” You strained out, words slipping and pushing through the limits you’d drawn around her.

You reveled in the way she let you go. Her fist released your shirt, pushing you away only for her fingers to linger on the fabric and keep you from going too far.

You made a point to step back, biting the inside of your lip when she took a stepped forward.

Maybe it did turn you on a little.

"I warned you earlier, didn't I?” Her eyes burned into yours, as if trying to distract you from the weakness she’s been displaying. “You do whatever you want on Friday. One wrong move, and I might just keep my word this time."

"Maybe you should," you retorted, your eyes flashing with defiance, provoking the spark of anger in her own.

Her proximity was intoxicating. It would be betraying your own words, painting a coward out of yourself, but you still tried to step away. Your foot carefully slipped back, ready to carry you elsewhere and flee.

Halfway there, and you were back to square one. Suffocating under Momo’s impulse, drowning into the feeling of her lips continuously crashing against yours…

She pulled you back in even closer, her fist having claimed itself around the fresh crease of your shirt. You didn’t fight to remove it this time, finding it much easier and pleasant to surrender.

Your kisses were vicious against each other’s. Anything but gentle, fueled by anger and weeks of built up frustrations.

You lost yourselves into a simmering attraction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Even when you found enough strength to pull apart. And even less when you realized just how much it took to do so.

The air seemed to thin out, charged with more tension than it held moments ago. More than ever before.

Your breaths were heavy, mingling with hers as you stared at each other’s features in shock and confusion.

Momo’s eyes were hazy, lips a neat mess and swollen from the kiss. “This doesn’t change anything.” she whispered, visibly shaken by her own actions.

You only nodded, busy trying yet unable to process the depth of what just happened. She slipped herself away from your arms and you watched her go, a mixture of frustration and longing churning in your chest.

The night felt colder, the kitchen emptier as you stood there, thoughts in a whirlwind. The kiss had changed everything and nothing, leaving both of you with more needs and questions than before.

—

“You kissed her?!”

“No, she kissed me!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

It really didn’t, Jeongyeon was right. So you let her slap you on the arm, the sting a light and playful discipline.

A couple of days passed, and you wasted two days of your hard earned break wallowing on your couch until Jeongyeon came by to drag you out of it for brunch. You complained the whole time, for entertainment purposes, but you were thankful for her.

With how busy you’d been since joining Momo, the two of you had only seen each other once. You made sure to keep her updated though, or rather she did by pestering you and teasing you about both your behaviors. She managed to keep herself up to date with every single little thing that had happened between you and Momo.

All except the latest.

“Like it’s my fault?” You argued, “Who wears a cropped dress shirt to a tasting…”

Jeongyeon chuckled at the state of you. All sprawled out on the table, chin resting on your forearm as you played with a few crumbs of your toast. She noticed the way your eyes wandered far away from this table, probably digging into your memories of Momo in that cropped dress shirt.

How pathetic, to her delight.

She shrugged at your words, reaching for her cup. “Less fabric, less stain prone. She’s got a point.”

You threw a piece of bread at her, but she dodged. “Why did she wear a tie then?” You straightened yourself up in your seat. “Seems to me like that would be just as much fabric as a regular dress shirt.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, “Stop blaming the shirt, and get a grip. You kissed her because you like her.”

“Back. I didn’t kiss her, I kissed her back.”

“That’s still a lot of kissing. So you’re not denying it, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, and snickered when you sighed. “You like her.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. "I don't even know what I feel, Jeongyeon. It's... complicated."

Jeongyeon smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Feelings usually are. But denying it won't make it any less true."

You groaned. "She's infuriating. One minute she's criticizing everything I do, the next she's—."

"Kissing you," Jeongyeon finished, taking a sip of her coffee.

You wanted to knock that smirk of hers (lovingly) off her lips, but resigned, feeling yourself smile at the joke. Too bad she was being truthful too.

"Yeah.” You fiddled with a napkin in your reach, your smile fading as you thought back to the moment. “And it wasn't just a peck, you know? It was... intense."

Jeongyeon chuckled. "Sounds like there's some serious chemistry there. Maybe all that fighting was just foreplay."

You glared at her, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips again. "You're not helping."

She leaned forward, her expression softening. "Look, Y/n, you've always been passionate about your work. Maybe she sees that and respects it, even if she has a hard time showing it. She's probably just as confused about her feelings as you are."

You sighed again, feeling the weight of her words. "Maybe. But what do I do now? She’s git the worst timing ever, we’ve got the banquet coming up; I can't afford any distractions."

Jeongyeon smiled knowingly. "Just be honest with yourself. And let go of your pride a little, who knows, maybe then she’ll be nice to you. If what you both truly want is for that banquet to work out, you’ll know to set this aside for now. Behave, and the rest will follow. Probably."

You gave Jeongyeon a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by her attempt to absolve herself of responsibility. "Probably?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongyeon shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, I'm just here to nudge you in the right direction. The rest is up to you. Relationships are messy, but you'll never know if you don't try."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "I guess you're right. It's just... a very uncharted territory right now."

Jeongyeon nodded, her expression turning sincere. "I know. But she might just be worth getting into it, I mean… I wouldn’t mind letting my guard down around her.”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course you wouldn't."

"You should do the same," she said teasingly. "Seriously, Y/n."

You looked down, a small smile playing at your lips. "Maybe. We'll see."

"That's the spirit,” Jeongyeon grinned. “Now finish that toast and get back out there. You've got a banquet to hold. And a girl to figure out."

You chuckled, “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Jeongyeon."

"Sure. Just invite me to the wedding."

—

Momo stood in front of the grand mirror in her room, adjusting the final touches of her outfit. The sleek black suit, paired with a statement pearl choker, gave her an air of authority and elegance she loved to see on herself. The sharp lines of the fabric contrasted with the delicate jewelry, creating a powerful and refined look.

She glanced at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her mind raced with thoughts of the evening ahead, the guests, the speeches, the food, and most of all, you.

Since that kiss, everything had become a whirlwind of confusion. You were infuriating, challenging, and utterly impossible to read. The kiss had only complicated things further, as if that relationship needed another tangled strain. What was she thinking… It was hard to focus on anything else when she replayed the moment in her mind, over and over again. Your lips on hers, the intensity, the fire—it had been unexpected, unplanned, and yet, it felt strangely good.

And then there was Jihyo. The situation with her was just as headache inducing. Jihyo's texts, her father's manipulations, and the pressure to stay in the company-everything just kept weighing on her. Yet somehow, in the midst of it all, she didn't mind any of it. As if the kiss had awakened something in her, something allowing her to bear all that weight. She hadn't felt that in a long time. It made her question everything, including her feelings for you and what she truly wanted for her future.

She didn’t like that. But she didn’t exactly mind it either.

As she walked into the venue, her eyes scanned the room, filled with guests fighting for best dressed mingling along with some others… settled for comfort. The atmosphere was buzzing, poking at Momo's racing heart. She felt nervous, not just from the pressure of the evening, but from the thought of seeing you again. She hadn't seen you since that night in the kitchen, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

It took a while, but her eyes finally found you across the room, looking dapper in your chef's uniform. For the first time, as a sign of gratitude and hopefully good news for your future, you were made to wear the official uniform of the Hirai kitchens. The jet black jacket, adorned with the restaurant's insignia, felt weird and new, but the colors … You could get used to them, and the material was soft enough.

You were talking to one of the guests, a polite smile on your face, but she could see the tension in your posture. You must have felt her gaze because you looked up, eyes locking with hers for a brief, electrifying moment.

You took Jeongyeon's advice to heart, determined to behave, to keep things professional despite the need to lash out at your own confusing feelings, and by extension; her. So you approached her cautiously, using the distance separating her from you to try and calm that pounding in your chest.

"Momo," you greeted, your voice came out steady enough, but your eyes betrayed your nerves.

"Y/n," she replied, her own voice calm.

You stood there for a moment, the silence hanging heavy with the memory of your kiss, a palpable tension neither of you could ignore.

"You look nice. Very professional," You finally said, breaking the silence. Your words were sincere, and for a moment, Momo's heart slowed.

"Thank you," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "You look... different."

You chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension. "Yeah, I do. It feels weird but... good."

You stood still. Just there, awkward and unsure, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Anyone passing by could tell there was something between you two, although not able to put their finger on it. Not any more than you could. But you tried; to find a way to move forward without letting your emotions get in the way of the night's success.

"I think we should... talk maybe," You said, your voice dropping to a low, almost hesitant tone.

Thankfully Momo nodded, wanting nothing more. Until she remembered where she was. "Yeah, we do. But maybe not here. Later?"

"Later," you agreed, relief evident in your eyes. "For now, let's focus on tonight."

"Agreed," she said, her resolve strengthening. "Let's give them a night to remember."

—

The banquet was in full swing, and Momo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched the guests enjoy the evening. After her brief but intense interaction with you, she’d thrown herself full swing into hosting, greeting the most important guests warmly and ensuring everything was running smoothly. She could see you, now dressed in the official Hirai colors, making your rounds with the staff in the kitchen through the glass doors.

She liked the sight. Enjoyed it even.

As the main courses began to be served, Momo took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. Everything seemed perfect, but she knew better than to let her guard down, and just as she was about to step back into the fray, one of the staff members approached her, looking visibly distressed.

"Ms. Hirai, we have a problem in the kitchen," the staff member whispered urgently, causing a surge of anxiety within her.

“What kind of problem?”

"The main course... there's an issue with the meat—well, it’s more the ovens not working properly—but we don't have enough time to fix it without some quick thinking."

Momo's heart picked up the pace again. This could ruin the entire evening.

Without a second thought, she hurried towards the kitchen, her mind racing with solutions. As she entered, she found you there, looking equally concerned.

“Y/n,” she called out, catching your attention. “We have a problem.”

The tension between you both flared up instantly, old arguments resurfacing in the heat of the moment. You tried to stay focused, but her presence was both a distraction and a relief. You were stressed, and seeing her only added to the pressure.

Momo crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's going on? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Your jaw tightened, trying to keep your frustration in check. "It's under control. We have a backup plan. I'm using the emergency meat, but we need to cook it quickly and differently."

"Good," she said, biting back her irritation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You paused, debating on teasing her about stepping in, but it wasn't the time nor place. "Can you go around and make sure everyone is on time? Report back to me if there's any issue."

She nodded, her gaze softening slightly. "Got it."

As she moved through the kitchen, checking on the staff and ensuring everyone was on schedule, she couldn't help but notice the tension in your posture. Despite the pressure, you remained in control, your hands moving with precision as you prepped the backup meat. She saw the way your brows furrowed, the way you bit your lip in concentration. It struck her how much you actually cared, how deeply invested you were in all this.

When she returned to you, she gave a quick update. "Everyone's on track. No issues so far."

"Good," you replied, a brief moment of relief flashing in your eyes before the stress settled back in. "Thank you."

Momo only nodded. She wanted to say more, to ease your tension, but the words wouldn't come. So she just took a step back, intending to head back out when her eyes caught sight of a pile of uncut vegetables next to you.

"Is anyone on these?" she asked, motioning to the vegetables.

You cussed under your breath at the sight of them, wiping the sweat from your forehead. The meat chaos had messed with your train of thoughts... "Damn it, no. I completely forgot."

Momo stepped closer, pushing her sleeves up. "Relax. I'll handle it."

"What—Are you sure?"

You would question the move, but the help she was offering was too precious.

Momo nodded, already reaching for a knife. "Yeah. How do you want them cut?"

The way she proceeded to handle that knife shouldn’t have been a surprise. She did belong to a respectable culinary lineage, but seeing her in action was something else entirely.

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you as you witnessed her skills from the corner of your eye. The fact that she was actually helping you made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.

The two of you worked side by side, and you could feel the tension easing up its hold onto the two of you as the minutes passed.

It was suddenly easier to breathe.

—

Much later in the night than you’d have liked, you stood outside the restaurant, the air of the night cool against your skin as you savored the last drags of your cigarette.

The streets were calm, the occasional hum of traffic in the distance adding a weirdly soothing track to the end of it all.

The banquet, everything had finally come to an end, and successfully, but the lingering thoughts of Momo and your unresolved tension clouded your mind.

You mindlessly watched as the guests left one by one, their laughter and chatter fading as they climbed into expensive cars and drove away. The soft glow of taillights disappeared around corners, leaving the street empty and silent every time.

You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the dark sky above.

Sure, that little moment in the kitchen earlier was nice, but… There was still a lot to work through.

A familiar sound of stilettos against the rough concrete pulled your eyes off and away from some sweet looking Mercedes. It didn’t compete with the sight you knew was awaiting

Momo stepped outside and startled you with a soft, “You smoke too much.”

You looked over, a faint smile on your lips. “Well, I’m trying to quit, but I deserve this one.”

She chuckled, taking a seat beside you. You watched her, feeling bad for the expensive suit you’d eyed any chance you got. All night. “You’ll mess your pretty clothes up,” you said, stubbing out the cigarette.

“Who cares,” she brushed off. “Night’s over anyway.”

You nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. “Congratulations, by the way. Was your mom proud?”

Momo smiled at the recent memory of her parents congratulating and thanking her for her hard work. “Yeah, they both were.”

You eyed her fingers as they fiddled with each other. It made you smile, how no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to hide that shy part of her.

“Was the outfit supposed to be a statement?” you asked, and she shuffled, telling you it might have been. It amused you. “You shouldn’t have. Did it shake you up that much?” You smirked as though you hadn’t gone to cry about it to Jeongyeon.

“About that night…” she trailed off, silently hoping you’d take the reins.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell your suitors.” You shrugged, half-jokingly.

A small, playful but sincere gesture that slapped Momo in the face. She had completely forgotten about her little side quest with the pressure of the past few days. And also because you’ve been the only thing on her heart’s mind since your kiss. Before stepping out to join you, she even cut things off with Jihyo through a text, thinking it was finally the end of it all. She’d forgotten about all the other ones.

“Oh.” She managed to say after slowing her thoughts down. “Thanks.”

“No problem…”

A few long and awkward seconds passed.

“Wait, are you gonna carry on with those?”

Momo pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t know.”

She really had no idea. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to quit the company anymore. Until her dad told her he’d slowly been warming up to her decision as he left moments ago, she forgot this was her last project.

It was great news, yeah, if it weren’t for one little detail you helped her realise a little too late.

She didn’t want it to be.

Momo cleared her throat, her lips opening and closing a few times before managing to get the words out. “Are you going to stick around?” she tentatively asked.

You shrugged, playing it cool although you had a feeling her question meant good news. Hopefully in both professional and personal parts of your life. “If you want me to.”

Momo grinned, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Will you?” you asked, and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Will you stick around too? Or are you quitting and leaving the country to become a dance teacher on the other side of the world?”

“How do you know I dance?” She laughed.

“You’re a public figure, Momo. Investments make headlines, especially the heartfelt ones,” you reminded, referring to the time she donated a generous amount to her old dance school in need.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Not really. Just news stuff.”

“Right.” You felt her eyes on you, rightfully suspicious. Another silence settled, although this one was a little less awkward and shorter. “Have you always wanted to be a chef?”

You simply nodded at the question, not wanting to dull the moment with details. “Thank you for the opportunity by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you, how rude of me.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled. “You deserved it. A lot of guests asked me to send their compliments to the chef.”

Her nudge to your ribs made you pull away instinctively, the sudden contact sending a rush of warmth to your chest. You looked down, hiding your smile as your mind rewound back to your first meeting. “You never called me chef, by the way.”

“And I never will,” she said assuredly, making you chuckle. It was all you could do for now with your focus on her hand fiddling with your own, watching as she intertwined her fingers with yours, the other caressing the exposed and sketched skin of your forearm.

She sure had gotten comfortable. The way she leaned into you, her touch becoming more familiar and assured... You wondered where it came from for a second before remembering how bad of a job you were doing at hiding the effect she had on you so far.

Well, if that’s what it got you…

“Bet on that?” You teased. A little provocation, for grounding purposes.

Momo just nodded though, still assured, and it made you even more curious about what she had in mind for her to be. “Why not?” you probed.

She only smiled, observing your features long enough to make you blush in the night. She inched her face closer to yours, her hand squeezing around yours. It felt only natural for you to lean in, and the nose scrunch she did was new, but the grin that came with it had you guessing it was a good thing. She couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned in, and you almost forgot what had pushed you so close until she spoke up.

“I’ll call you much better, and more flattering things than ‘chef’… darling,” she whispered.

You folded immediately, and this time, you were the one that kissed her. This one was much sweeter, softer. Flavors from the night dancing on your lips, teasing the ones on your tongues. Dessert and smoke, a blend of sweetness and bitterness that felt just right.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you felt her lips turn into a smirk against yours.. “Doesn't mean we’re done arguing, though.”

“It doesn't?”

She shook her head, her free hand reaching for a displaced lock of your hair. “Not until you quit smoking.”

“I told you I’m already trying to.”

“I know, but I also happen to think you look hot doing it.”

“Can’t wait to fight about me being hot then.”

———

@cry4mina thank you for supportively bullying me to finish this i hope you liked it

#momo x reader #twice x reader #hirai momo #twice momo #momo imagines #momo fluff #momo angst

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bangchansgirlsblog · 2 months

Note

HELLO🤩

i am in a randomly good mood

and i need angst to ruin it

i present to you

HYUNJIN X READER- they get into a fight and he raises his hand as if he’s gonna hit her and she flinches and he’s like…. “i can’t deal with your shit rn” and LEAVES *a collective gasp rises from the audience* and she’s all like “well i can’t deal with your shit either” and ALSO LEAVES (like the apartment they share or smth lol) and goes to stay at another members house (but like she’s being reasonable because it was a REALLY bad fight😓) and it ends in him apologizing after realizing he was a total dick teehee🤭

sorry if that’s too much lol keep up the great work!!🩵

Protective services

Warning: Angry Hyunjin, violence (not really), angst/comfort

Pairing: hyunjin x reader

It’s 4 am and it’s so fucking hot omg. Shoot me 😔

“Hyunjin,” Y/n softly called for her boyfriend from the kitchen. He was sat in their living room finishing off a song on his laptop so he was quite concentrated but still he made sure to reply.

“Hm?”

“Baby, what do you think we should take to your mums house for dinner tomorrow?” She walked over to their dining room to sit and jot down the shopping list of things she needed for the huge family dinner at his family’s home.

“I don’t know, you figure it out,” he waved her off and quickly looked back at his computer. His eyebrows were furrowed and he had his glasses on.

She let out a frustrated sigh and continued to write down the list desiding she would make some kimchi and fried rice. Perfect.

Satisfied with her list she went to change into some grocery shopping clothes and turned it the lights. “Hyunjin, I’m going grocery shopping,” she informed the older man who was pulling at his hair.

“Yeah, hm? Okay, okay,” he dismissed her again not even listening to what she had to say this cause her blood to boil. Atleast he could offer to come spend time with her but ofcourse work took all his time. It was always work, work, work.

She grabbed her wallet and closed the door behind her before quickly making her way to the convince store. It was a little chilly but nothing she couldn’t handle.

South Korea was safe after all so her being late out at night wasn’t a problem…well she thought.

It was when she was walking back to their apartments when she heard it. Footsteps. Footsteps that were following her and getting closer.

She had grocery bags in her hands that were extremely heavy and the fact that Hyunjin wasn’t there was worrying her a little bit.

She quickly turned and saw no one. Weird. Was she dreaming? She quickly started walking again but this time her footsteps got faster and so did the ones behind her.

“Excuse me miss?” She heard a rough voice calling for her. Her heart was beating at a terrible pace. Her hands were shaking.

She quickly looked behind before seeing who it was. It was a man, a scrubby looking man. He had a dirty smirk on his face and his hands were in his pocket.

“Can I help you?” She quietly said before taking a few steps back.

“Yes actually, I saw you shopping and I thought you were really-“

“Really what?” A voice growled from behind Y/n. She quickly jumped and looked up to see her pissed off boyfriend standing behind her. Towering both her and the man.

His hands automatically wrapped around her and that’s when she realized her surroundings. She was 2 blocks away from her and Hyunjin’s apartment. So this man really was following her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The man asked in disbelief. His eyes grew wider, “Isn’t he famous?”

“I’d advise you leave before this gets ugly for you. I saw you following her and if I see you next to her ever again. I’ll make sure to break your hands off and beat you with them. Don’t think just because I sing and dance I can’t beat the shit out of you,”

Hyunjin stood infront of Y/n and pushed the man, he didn’t even try to fight Hyunjin but instead started to scurry off while cursing.

“Baby how-“

“Why the fuck are you out here in the night time without me?” He said sternly. His voice getting louder the more he talked.

He harshly grabbed the grocery bags from her hands.

“But I told you I was going grocery shopping Hyunjin plus-“

“You don’t leave the house without me at this time. You forget that you’re everyone’s target. Are you stupid?” He growled as he gently pushed her so they could start making their way to the apartments. He wanted to make sure he still had an eye on her even if he was extremely mad.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me. I told you I was going to-“ she was hurt by his harsh words. She just wanted to explain herself.

“Then why the fuck were you not picking up my calls? Do you know how worried I got?” He was yelling now. “I told you to text me whenever your out so I know your safe, why don’t you listen Y/n,”

“Hyunjin I don’t know why your making this such a big deal but your scaring me,” she frowned as they made it inside their apartment. He slammed the door shut before throwing the bags of stuff on the dining table.

“Be careful there are eggs!” She yelped before running to check if they’re okay.

“Is that all you care about now?! You could have gotten hurt outside there. Raped! Robbed! Beaten!”

“Hyunjin stop yelling! It’s not a big deal! I always go shopping without you. Maybe your overreacting a little,” she begged for him to stop as she paced back out to the living room where he was now.

“I need to go think-“

“Think about what babe? I’m sorry okay. Just don’t leave. I- I promise I didn’t mean to. I thought you heard me when I told you I was leaving the house!”

“We need to find a way for you to be safe out there Y/n. Just let me think,”

He grabbed his jacket yet again and she chased after him clinging on his hand.

“God dammit Y/n!” He roared and raised his hand before punching the wall. She quickly flintched and fell on the floor thinking it would land on her.

She lets out a tiny squeal before shielding her head with her hands.

Hyunjin’s face quickly softens. His heart was in his throat. He couldn’t believe it. “Shit,” he softly said. His anger now slowly disappearing as guilt and worry filled his body.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he kept mumbling. He dropped his jacket and tried to grab her but she quickly scrambled away.

She was genuinely scared. She knew Hyunjin wouldn’t hit her but with the way he was reacting before she didn’t know what he was capable of at the moment.

“I- why?” She sniffled. Her eyes now streaming with tears and she quickly got off the floor and rushed to the bedroom.

Her sobs filled the room as she quickly dialed the only person she could think of.

“Channie?” She cried into the phone.

“Hm? What is it?” He frantically said as he heard her tit sniffles. “What’s wrong Y/nnie? You okay? Where are you?”

“Channie…Hyunjin he- he got angry and-“

“I’m coming over right now, stay there and stay away from him,” she could hear him shuffling around probably getting dressed. All she could do is cry.

On the other side of the door, Hyunjin was a crying mess. He didn’t expect the fight to turn left. He was going to hit her. He just blacked out for a second and her tiny screams woke him up he then realized what he had done.

“What is it Hyung?” He groaned as he sat by their bedroom door.

“Come over. Chan just called me fuming and I’m worried he’ll kill you if he finds you there,”

“But Binnie- I didn’t mean to I swear,”

“I just said come over. You need to calm down and we can talk about it okay?” He knew Changbin was right.

The comfort of knowing that Chan was on his way over was what made him leave the house not without knocking on their door first.

No answer.

He then slowly opened it to find the love of his life in a little ball. Tiny cries left her small frame but all he could do was walk over and kiss her forehead. She didn’t flinch but she didn’t react even and with that he left their shared apartment to head off to his friend’s house.

The frantic knocks on the door was what got her up. She knew it was Chan instantly and she honestly couldn’t wait for his cuddles.

“Where is he?” He marched into the house fuming.

“He- he left,” she said. Chan’s posture melted when he saw the state she was in. He felt so sorry and so bad but he knew apologizing wouldn’t do anything.

“Movie while you tell me what happened?” He pulled her into a hug as she broke down even more.

“Yes please,” she mumbled into his hoodie.

By the time the movie had ended, she was fast asleep by his side. It was a long 2 hours of him trying to calm her down and assuring her that Hyunjin didn’t mean what he did. It was probably a big misunderstanding. It took hours of convincing but he was finally able to get her to sleep and calm down.

When he heard the knock on the door he knew who it was and wasn’t shocked when the devil himself walked through the door.

“I won’t kill you,” was all Chan said before getting up and signaling for him to come hold her instead.

“Thank you Hyung, I owe you one,”

“I know you two are a young couple and it gets hard but you slowly learn how to be patient with her. I hope Binnie and leeknow told you that,”

“Trust me they gave me the longest lecture of my life and on top of that they took away all my pc privileges,” he huffed and slowly played with your hair.

“How is she?” He asked while admiring her face. It was still a little puffy and the guilt started to eat him again.

“Okay, she cried and cried but I finally got her to calm down. Just talk to her and apologize. She loved you at the end of the day,” and with that. They said their goodbyes and Hyunjin carried Y/n to their shared room. He slowly put her in bed before rushing to finish up putting the groceries away and cleaning up.

He made his way back to your room and got into bed to cuddle you but what made him smile was the way you wrapped your arms around him before whispering a tiny “I love you.”

Damn he was such a dickhead.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz drabbles #skz stay #bangchansgfblog #hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin

274 notes · View notes

ellephlox · 2 years

Text

Obstinacy

Summary: You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Some gross pneumonia descriptions, light swearing, nothing else!

A/N: So I’ve been away for awhile, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to write my own book and I finished the second draft, so taking the time for fan fiction has been on the back burner lately. But of course with the RETURN OF OUR BELOVED KING on She-Hulk, I had to take the time to write something because IM STILL FREAKING OUT GUYS MATT IS BACK AND HES SO AMAZING AND HOT AND ALLSKJF LSDKFJLSKDJFLSDK

You felt the chest pain on your way home from work — the kind that arrived out of nowhere, as though it dropped from the sky into your lungs, and seriously made you wonder how colds were able to work that quickly.

Of course, maybe it wasn’t a cold. You kept your hopes up as you cooked dinner, testing your chest a few times with a few large intakes of breath, but each time was the same result: a small tickle in the back, like a little voice saying, Hey, I’m here, and you’re going to be miserable for the next couple of days!

Which really stunk, if you were being honest. It was getting towards mid-October and you were hoping to carve pumpkins with Matt or do some other corny autumn activity that every other normal couple did in the city. Not that you two weren’t normal. But other couples didn’t really have to contend with the whole I’ll-see-you-later-honey-after-I-beat-up-some-bad-guys-tonight, and you figured it must make movie nights a lot more frequent for most people than it did for you and Matt. That was another thing on your list, too — watching a horror movie to get into the Halloween spirit.

“I’m not into horror movies,” Matt had said when you’d pitched the idea to him. “Audio commentary kind of kills the whole scary aspect.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies. I don’t mean movies with gallons of blood and cheap jump scares. I mean psychological horrors, the kinds that make you stay awake at night because they’re that freaky. We’re doing it, Murdock, whether you want to or not.”

Whether you want to or not, however, didn’t include the extenuating circumstances of getting sick.

It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to your apartment. You felt so drained that you wouldn’t have minded showering and then crashing into bed, if you weren’t hungry. The wind rattled at your windows as you cooked a big pot of rice, enough to last the next few days. You’d bought fixings yesterday to make a homemade curry with it, but one look at your pantry and you scrapped those plans in exchange for half a jar of pesto with a dubious expiration date on it. Matt wasn’t supposed to be over until after seven in the evening, thanks to the unforgiving hours of lawyering, but you called him as you stirred the pesto in with the rice.

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he said. His voice was lighthearted.

“Hi,” you said, as casually as possible. “How was your day?”

“I officially reduced the pile of paperwork on my desk from ten inches high to eight inches high, so I’d call it a success. You at your place?”

“Yeah. Hey, I wanted to let you know that I think I’m coming down with something, so maybe you should stay at your own place tonight.” Before Matt could ask, you added, “I’m fine. Just one of the colds that’s going around. But I’d feel horrible if you got it.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Pumpkins can wait. I haven’t even bought them yet.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, and your stomach flipped. What a way to boost my self-esteem that he actually likes me. “How about we just don’t share sodas, then?”

You frowned. “Last time this happened, I told you to stay away from me and then you just ended up kissing me. The next day, lo and behold, you started coughing. So, no. Not happening.”

“You kissed me, if I remember correctly.”

“Excuse me? What kind of a lawyer are you? That’s gaslighting, sir.”

He continued, ignoring you. “Maybe I’ll just hear some suspicious noises coming from your apartment tonight. And then I’ll have to investigate, because it’s my civic duty as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And when I see a beautiful girl, sitting on the couch and pathetically eating rice and pesto alone, I’ll just have to join her. Accidentally, of course.”

“What I’m interpreting from that is that you go cuddle up with any girl that you find eating alone in her apartment.”

“What I’m interpreting is that Matt says he’s doing all these dangerous things at night but really he’s just chilling out while enjoying the lavish praise of being a local superhero,” Foggy said, his voice distant in the background.

You snorted. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No,” Foggy answered, sounding far too cheerful for someone working far beyond sunset. “Matt just keeps his phone volume weirdly high for someone who supposedly has super-hearing.”

“I do have super-hearing, Foggy.”

“Then how are you not shattering your eardrums? Between your phone volume and crashing at girls’ apartments to eat rice and pesto, I’m really doubting this whole Daredevil façade,” Foggy said.

“Anyway,” Matt cut in, “I’ll pop in tonight, just to bring over some food and meds. Do you want anything specific?”

“Matt, really. I don’t want you catching this. And it’s late, you should get home and actually get some sleep for once. I’m fine, it just feels like a cold.” You would have elaborated, but your chest decided to seize at that moment, and you had to trail off quickly before it became apparent in your voice.

He sort of listened to you that night. He had swung by (through the window? Or with the spare key you’d given him? There was no way to know) and dropped off food, but it was while you were asleep, and it looked as though he’d only gone into the kitchen then left.

You’d only found the food when you wandered in blearily at three in the morning, sweating and freezing at the same time. There was no point for the thermometer; a fever was obvious and you didn’t particularly care what the number was. The cough was worse, though. It made it hard to fall back asleep — every few seconds you’d feel as though your lungs were spasming, and the back of your throat felt as though it had been bitten by fire ants.

Sirens rang in the distance. You hoped it wasn’t for something Matt was involved in; not because you didn’t trust him to handle it, but because it was three in the morning and you’d kick his ass if he wasn’t sleeping at this point.

Then the headache hit you. Maybe you wouldn’t be kicking his ass anytime soon.

The pressure was enough to make you stumble into the counter as you rummaged for a glass of water. Everything about your arms felt off, as though your muscles had been crushed into powder, and you misjudged your grasp on the glass. It fell, crashing to the floor and skating outwards like a nebula of knives. Automatically you reached for the paper towels, and in your haze you stepped forward.

Barefooted.

Glass crunched under your foot and you swore, not at the pain but at your own stupidity. It took another half an hour to bandage up the bottom of your foot and at that point you were too exhausted to finish cleaning up the glass.

When you woke up next, sun was filtering through your curtains and your mouth was as dry as though you’d swallowed ten cotton swabs. Dazed, you picked up your phone, and squinted at the notifications; one missed call from Matt and a followup text. Quickly you sent him an I’m okay message and then fell back onto your pillow.

The fever felt worse. Goosebumps ran up and down your legs, but you were simultaneously sweaty under your sheets, so you threw them off to go shower. Only then did you remember the glass you’d stepped on because your foot protested angrily as soon as you placed it onto the carpet.

Hopping was the only option remaining, and that expended just about every ounce of energy you’d garnered while sleeping, so that you just about collapsed against the bathroom wall, wheezing, by the time you’d made it. And of course that was when your phone rang, so you hopped back to your room, and barely made it in time before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?” you croaked.

“That’s all I need to hear. I’m coming over.”

“I... what?”

“Yeah. You sound terrible, Y/N.” Matt’s voice was overly concerned, and you didn’t like it at all; you could practically feel the pity coming off of him. At least, it felt like pity. And that wasn’t what you wanted.

“Matt, not only will I personally make you rue the day that you step foot in here while I’m sick, but—” You broke off, coughing, and wincing at the same time because you could imagine Matt’s expression on the other end.

“I don’t like talking to you over the phone,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not hearing your heartbeat, hearing your lungs, feeling your temperature. You’re being overruled. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you have to be at the court today?”

“Not until ten.”

Defeated, you flung the phone on the other side of the room. That conversation sucked out everything you had, and you gave up on the idea of taking a shower. The bed looked much more comfortable. It didn’t help that your breaths were getting alarmingly short, and it was difficult to draw in anything more than a quick inhale. Your eyes were closed for about five seconds before they popped back open.

Matt was coming. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You went to the windows and locked them all, then crossed to the front door. He had a spare key, but you also had a bolt, and you slid it across, feeling somewhat proud of yourself for having made the trek to the entryway. The bar is very, very low at this point.

You’d run a marathon right now before letting Matt get anywhere near you. That resolve was the only thing penetrating the fog around your head, and you double-checked the windows again. It wasn’t as though he’d be leaping and climbing up to them, anyway; he was coming from the office, and would therefore be in his lawyer suit. With the number of people down on the streets and the broad daylight, Matt would be hard-pressed to make it up to your fire escape without the newspaper headline being BLIND ACROBAT BREAKING AND ENTERING IN HELL’S KITCHEN the next day.

Sure enough, ten minutes later Matt was outside your door, and his sharp rap on the door did nothing to make you move. You sat at the counter, sipping on some water, and shook your head. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, I can hear the crackling in your lungs,” he said, his patience more intact than you would have expected. He thinks he’s going to win.

“My lungs aren’t crackling. They’re just... not feeling so hot.” Now overly-conscious of your breathing, you tried to make your breaths smoother and less obviously sick.

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “You’ve got too fast of a heartbeat. Unlock the bolt or I’ll kick the door down.”

“Yeah, my heart’s racing, because there’s a man threatening to kick my door down,” you said, and feeling inspired, you clicked the on button of the remote next to you. The television flashed to life, showing the weather report, and you turned the volume up. Take that, Matt. “See? No more lung crackling or racing heartbeats.”

The only issue was that now you could hardly hear him. You barely made out his next sentence, it was so faint on the other side of the door. “I can still hear both, you know,” he said, muffled. “You know how many televisions there are in the average block of apartments that I have to filter out every single night?”

“Shit.” You shut the television off. “Listen away, then. It’s not going to change anything because I’m not letting you in.”

“I wasn’t kidding about kicking the door down.”

"And I’m not kidding about not letting you in. Plus, you’d have some tough questions to answer when my neighbors report you for kicking down my door, Devil Man.”

“Why won’t you accept help when you need it? You really need a doctor.”

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath, relishing the fact that he could hear you.

“I can hear you.” Just as you’d expected. “And what I do is irrelevant to the fact that you’re currently sitting in your apartment with what’s probably pneumonia.”

“Oh, it’s not pneumonia,” you said dismissively, though you felt awful enough that he was probably right. At least, your lungs seemed to concur with that diagnosis, and as if to verbally agree with him you coughed, wheezing and choking for air.

“If I didn’t have to be at the court in half an hour, I’d go home and get into the suit just to have an excuse to come through your window right now.” Matt was pissed, that was for sure. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, softened only by that ever-present concern in what he was saying.

“I know, Matt.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s a lost cause, alright? Tomorrow I’ll be feeling a lot better and then maybe — maybe — I’ll let you come in. And that’s if we keep all the windows open for fresh air and—”

“Why do I smell your blood?”

You glanced down at your foot. Traitor. It had stopped bleeding ages ago, but you should’ve changed the bandage again one more time before Matt showed up. “I’m... doing acupuncture. On myself.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine. I made a blood oath and pricked my thumb to assure myself that I will never, ever let you catch a sickness from me.”

“In ten seconds this door is coming down unless you tell me. And if you could hear my heartbeat, you’d know I’m not lying.”

“Fine! I just stepped on some glass, okay? But my foot is fine, it’s seen worse days. I mean, you should’ve seen that time that I got a pedicure and the lady told me my heels were the most cracked she’d seen in a long time.” You were rambling, and that wasn’t a good idea, because it made you lose your breath and then you were gasping for air.

After another five minutes of arguing that ended only when you swore to call the doctor if you got any worse, he left, grumbling that Foggy would kill both of you if he was late for court, and that was the only reason he was giving up — “temporarily”.

Only when it was too late did you realize that was a mistake, and that you should have let him help.

It was past two in the afternoon when you woke up from a nap, and every muscle in your body felt as though it were frozen. You were trembling slightly from the cold, but couldn’t muster the energy to even sit up and grab the blanket at the foot of your bed. It was difficult to swallow, and you clutched at your throat, certain that someone must be standing over you and clasping their hands around your neck, but there was no one there.

“Matt,” you whispered, expecting him to be there, or to hear you, but there was no one. Taking slow breaths, you tried to calm down on your own. One, two, three. One, two, three. All you could manage were short, raspy breaths that hardly got enough air, and your head pounded. Blindly you reached out for your glass of water, and nearly dropped it again, your hands were shaking so much. The feeling of your lips against the rim was like pressing a dried sponge to the edge of a bowl and the water tasted sour in your mouth.

And then you tried swallowing. It was as though someone had blocked up your throat, because you couldn’t swallow, and you gasped, heart racing as panic flooded through you; for a moment you couldn’t breathe and then you finally coughed up the water, chest heaving from the sharpness of each cough. You grabbed a tissue, hacking into it for at least another thirty seconds, and finally a glob of mucus came up and your airway cleared up just enough that you could breathe a bit more.

You almost tossed the tissue to the floor without looking at it, but a flash of red caught your eye.

Blood. In the mucus.

That was the tipping point for you. Didn’t people die shortly after coughing up blood in the movies? That was how it went. A character coughs, looks into their hand, and then resignedly tucks it away without the other characters seeing. It was like the knoll of death, ringing in your ears.

You hardly knew what you were doing as you dialed Matt’s number, not even thinking about what you were tapping into your phone but allowing muscle memory to guide you.

“Hello?” He picked up almost immediately.

“Matt—” You started to speak his name, but halted; it was too painful. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you started over. “Matt, I think I need you here.”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m—” You glanced down at the tissue. Literally dying here? That was a surefire way to make Matt have a heart attack. “I’m not doing so well. I might take you up on your offer to help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be over in five minutes. Did you call the doctor already?”

“No.” The thought of calling the doctor was exhausting on its own.

Matt seemed to notice that. “I’ll call,” he assured you. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Not really.” Tears were spiking in your eyes and you brushed them away. “I just coughed and... there was some blood in it.” You wheezed for breath, the drawing in of air rattling everything inside of you and getting caught at the top of your throat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“But—”

“No, sweetheart. You need a real doctor. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Somehow you must have fallen asleep again, because Matt was lifting you from the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. “Can’t breathe,” you whispered, gasping for breath.

“I know. I can hear your lungs,” Matt said, voice strained. “I’ve got a cab waiting on the street. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I... I can walk.” You slung an arm around him and made your way slowly out of the room, limping with every step on your bandaged foot. Matt, to his credit, allowed you to do what you could. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was gone, but he still wore a button-down, tucked into his pants.

“Bet you won your case, then,” you whispered, hardly even aware of what was coming out of your mouth. “No one can... say no to this.”

“This?”

“Hm. This.” You meant to nod up and down at Matt, but it came across as more of a head shake. “You.”

And then your assertion that you could walk proved difficult to fulfill, so you redirected your efforts to not face-planting in your living room, despite the strong, steady hands Matt kept on you the entire time. Once you reached your stairs he took over for the most part; your feet were hardly touching the ground with the amount of support he was giving.

That was where your memory cut out. You must have passed out, because the next time you opened your eyes, it was in the hospital bed, and Matt was reading next to you, his long gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as his fingers danced over the text.

“Hi,” you whispered lamely. Everything about you was groggy and it was hard enough just to focus on him.

Him. Only he could look handsome in a hospital. At some point he’d exchanged the suit for a tee shirt and sweats, and his hair stuck out at every angle possible. You wondered vaguely if he’d come from Fogwell’s.

He set the book down, relief evident on his face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

You ignored his question. “How do you always manage to look good?”

He nudged you. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“That’s... the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Even if you weren’t blind, it’d be a lie.” You closed your eyes, then opened them again. The ceiling was too white. “What happened?”

"Aspiration pneumonia.”

“Hm?”

“You have aspiration pneumonia,” he said. “Which just happens to be a type of pneumonia that’s not contagious.”

You meditated on this. “So?”

“So you could’ve let me into your apartment, that whole time,” he said, looking distinctly indignant, and it was enough to make you laugh. The laugh was short-lived, because it quickly transformed into a wracking cough that made your entire chest throb, but Matt was on his feet in an instant, holding your hand.

Only when the coughing stopped did you remember the bolt on your door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get in?”

“Broke down the door, like I promised.”

“Are... are you serious? What about the neighbors?”

He laughed. “You know, breaking down a door isn’t incriminating evidence that I’m Daredevil. I told them you were having an emergency, and when they saw you, they believed me.”

“They saw me?” You didn’t remember an audience when Matt was helping you out of the apartment.

“Well, you were taking your sweet time on the stairs, and coughing loudly enough for anyone in a mile radius to hear you, so yeah, they wanted to see what was happening.”

You buried your face in your hands. “That’s just great. And now, what, is my apartment wide open for anyone to go in?”

“No, I called in a favor with Foggy, and he’s hanging out there until someone can come in and fix it.”

“Even better. Now I’m indebted to Foggy.”

Matt smiled coyly. “Oh, and I should mention—”

“Oh, no. What?”

“—that there’s something else you’ll love about all of this.”

“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Aspiration pneumonia is commonly associated with the institutionalized elderly. In other words, it’s a nursing home problem.”

“A nursing home problem?”

“A nursing home problem,” he confirmed. “I was thinking that maybe for your next birthday I could get you fitted for dentures.”

“Hilarious. Really, so funny. You really should have been a comedian. I swear to you that the next time you get sick, I’m going to make fun of you and you’ll never hear the end of it. Got it?”

He grinned and squeezed your hand. “Murdocks don’t get sick.”

“That is the second biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I seem to recall that time you projectile-vomited off of the Ferris wheel.”

“Because I was motion-sick, not sick-sick.”

Your eyelids were already getting heavy just from the five-minute conversation. You beckoned him closer and leaned onto his shoulder, pressing yourself into his warmth. He smelled like fresh deodorant and coffee. “Pumpkin carving as soon as I can leave?”

“Definitely,” he said, placing your fingers onto the pulse that drummed under his wrist. “And this time, I’m not lying.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #Daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel #MCU #hurt/comfort #reader #reader insert

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supercoolhotgirl · 2 years

Text

rice purity - lip gallagher

3.2k words

lip gallagher x reader, friends to lovers, hickeys, talk of sex, weed, shotgunning

PART TWO is out!!!

———————————————————————

it started out as a joke. as most things with lip normally did. we had been marking off our rice purity tests, each of us in turn, and showing the other everything we’d done or hadn’t done, issuing gasps and mock cries of disbelief from both of us.

we were sitting on the faithful old couch in my bedroom, lip holding up his phone and checking off numbers left and right with me leaning over and watching in awe. lip was just about in the middle of the quiz, number 37: gave oral sex. i watched, mesmerized as he tapped the little box to the left of the question, indicating that he had, in fact, gone down on a girl.

i faked a gasp and he looked at me, a smug smile on his face. i mostly faked the gasp to look like i really didn’t care, but in reality, i was trying to push away the image of a sweaty lip, looking up at me from between my legs.

“so gentlemanly, phillip,” i teased.

he nudged me in the arm. “what can i say? im a sucker for giving,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

i feigned gagging before responding. “so you’re saying you’ve actually succeeded at making a girl cum? because i’m quite doubtful.” i deadpanned.

“hey,” he said, matching my serious expression and leaning forward further. “if you don’t believe me, i can always try it on you. then you can judge for yourself.”

i stared at him for a moment, attempting to register what he’d said, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. trying to make a quick recovery from my shock, i pushed his face away from mine playfully. “in your dreams, gallagher.”

he muttered something that sounded awfully like, “in your dreams, too.”

“what’s that?” i cupped my ear towards him.

“oh absolutely nothing. let’s finish this bullshit so i can see yours,” lip retorted.

and so it went, lip checking off almost every box, except for some regarding breaking the law. when he reached number 70, had sexual intercourse 10 or more times, i shifted uncomfortably, leaning my head against his shoulder.

we both knew that i was a virgin, while he was a self proclaimed “sex genius.” i wasn’t too sure about that, but it in no way helped my wandering daydreams of him when i touched myself.

i’d been friends with lip for years, and he’d never exactly been innocent. those past few years especially, though, he’d grown a bit more into the fuckboy lifestyle, and had been rumored to just fuck girls and leave before they even woke up the next morning.

this was one of the reasons i’d never made a move on him before, even though he was glaringly gorgeous and crazy smart. i was scared i’d lose him.

another reason was all of his experience and my lack thereof. i had no confidence that he’d even want to do anything with me; i was almost sure that he’d reject the idea of fucking a virgin, hypothesizing that i’d become irrevocably attached to him and never want to leave his side.

of course, i’d never talked to HIM about any of this, so it was all really speculation from my point of view.

however, not two minutes after i’d had these thoughts, i watched him check off number 84, had sex with a virgin, that blush crawling right back up my neck.

the rest of the list went smoothly, lip checking off almost every sexual experience the quiz had to offer before we both grimaced at the two unchecked boxes at the end of the test: numbers 99 and 100, committed an act of incest and engaged in beastiality.

“you know what, come to think of it, i almost fucked my cousin once,” lip said thoughtfully, turning to look at me. “third cousin. not even related by blood!” he added defensively, staring at my shocked face.

“lip. how the hell did you almost fuck your cousin?” i questioned skeptically, laughing at his expression.

“long story short: there was a wedding, there was champagne, and there was an empty hotel suite.” he said, sighing, as i laughed.

“interesting,” i told him. “let’s get your final score, shall we?”

he nodded in approval, and clicked the calculate my score box. a large red 38 appeared on the screen. i goggled at the number while lip laughed at my incredulous expression.

“did you think it would be higher?” he asked, smiling at me.

“i mean— i didn’t really know what to expect,” i defended, still shocked by the number.

“aw. after all the time you’ve known me, you still thought i was innocent just like you.” he said, tapping me on the nose for good measure.

i shoved his hand away. “i know for a fact that you aren’t innocent, especially by whatever standards you’re using.” i pulled out my own phone, but lip stole it from me as soon as i’d typed in the password.

i let him find the rice purity website, watching his hands work, knowing

those hands would visit my imagination later.

i was cleared of my daydreaming when he handed me the phone, this time laying his own head on my shoulder, a warm, tumbly feeling tossing over in my throat. i cleared it and began reading the questions.

i got through the first four questions without checking off a box, my face stinging as i checked the next two boxes that referred to kissing someone. lip gasped beside me and rose off my shoulder.

“you never told me you had your first kiss?” he said, a glint of hurt in his eye.

“i— i didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” i lied.

“it definitely is. for you at least,” he smiled as i shoved him again. “tell me what happened.” he implored, looking at me like a puppy.

i sighed. “lip, honestly, it was no big deal. remember last summer i went to camp for two weeks?” he nodded his confirmation.

“worst two weeks of my life,” he said quietly.

“well. i met this guy, you know jack thomas?” again, lip nodded, his face telling me to go on. “well there was a lot of flirting, honestly most of it was flirting, but at the end of camp, on the last night, he took me to the lake and i expected this big, wonderful kiss, but it was so lame. he said, ‘you’re so awesome,’ and then i guess he kissed me. but it was less of a kiss and more of him licking my lips, pretending he knew what he was doing.” i paused, looking at lip’s face. he hadn’t looked away from me once. “and then we left camp and he never texted. the end.” i finished lamely. lip was registering the story, something like relief settling into his features.

“i always knew jack thomas was a dick,” lip said unceremoniously, looking off into space as if he were imagining jack’s face in front of him.

“well that’s the story, sorry it’s absolutely boring. especially compared to what you’ve done,” i added, testing the boundaries.

“you’re right. i’ve done much worse,” he grinned at me. “but i’ve never been kissed by a boy, so you’ve got me there.” he teased.

“more like licked by a boy,” i rolled my eyes at him.

“well in that case i’ve definitely got you beat. growing up with carl? no question.”

“alright gallagher, get ahold of yourself,” i laughed at him. i kept moving down the list, trying to make light of the fact that i had done nearly nothing on there. once i had passed number 11, given or received a hickey, lip stopped me by grabbing my phone from my hand.

“dude,” he started seriously. “not even a hickey?”

i shook my head, a weak smile set on my face.

he looked as though he was lost in thought for a moment. “what if i help you lower your score?” he asked, searching my eyes.

i widened my stare, my heart hammering. “meaning…?” i implored.

“meaning, let’s do some things on here that you’ve never done. so you can check them off.” lip explained, gesticulating like it was obvious.

i thought for a moment, the glaringly obvious set in my head: he had initially just offered to do anything to me, if i wanted to. “sure,” i said, trying to seem casual.

“is it a ‘sure’ or is it a ‘yes’? because i’m not doing it if it’s not completely what you want,” he told me.

“yes, lip, it’s a yes.”

he smiled a devilish smile. “okay first things first, a hickey. it’s easy,” he assured me. “can i give one to you or do you want to do it to me?” he asked.

“definitely do it to me. i’m sure you’re way more skilled at hickeys than i am.” i responded.

“if you wanna stop at any point, just let me know and i’ll back the fuck off.” he reminded me. i nodded in response.

he moved my hair from my neck, my heartbeat quickening as he placed his hand around the back of it. “hey,” he said, his mouth awfully close to my ear. “i haven’t even done it yet. your heart’s beating like a fucking jackrabbit.”

“god this is fucking embarrassing. just fucking do it!” i laughed nervously, awaiting his mouth on my neck.

he moved in even closer, and i could smell his scent: fresh wood and that everlasting cigarette smell that i could never get out of my room once he left. all of a sudden his lips were on my neck, a little below my ear, sucking and nipping with his teeth. i was absolutely sure he could hear my heartbeat, it was pounding so loud.

i wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so i moved one of them on top of his hand that was gripping the back of my neck, and massaged his fingers. i felt his breath hitch against my skin when i did this, and he pulled away just enough to whisper in my ear, “didn’t know my innocent girl knew what she wanted.”

i exhaled slowly. my innocent girl.

his lips kept on sucking a mark into my skin, and my other hand leapt to his hair, massaging it and feeling its softness. i leaned into him as he pulled away to admire his work. i let out a little “fuck,” as he met my eyes again, his lips glistening and a devious smile playing on his face.

“well princess. you can check that off the list,” he said, casually picking my phone back up to, i presumed, check it off the list. i cleared my throat and turned away, remembering that this was just a game to him. that was okay with me, i just had to remember it.

“don’t call me that,” i turned back, and realized that the list was on my phone, and he’d picked up his. “what the hell are you doing, lip?” i questioned, covering my face bashfully as he held up his own phone to take my picture.

“well, you have to see it, otherwise it definitely doesn’t count.” he pointed out.

i sighed and removed my hands from my face, turning my neck outwards towards his camera and striking a pose. he grinned and flashed the photo, then showed it to me. i blushed. below my ear there was a red mark, and i felt a twinge of nerves pass through my heart.

“beautiful work, gallagher, really wonderful,” i said, mimicking a gallery snob. “how much do you want for it? one million? two million?”

“oh no, this is priceless, this is,” he said, matching my tone and motioning towards the hickey in question.

i laughed at him as i grabbed my phone again and found my place in the quiz. “would you like to do the honors?” i said, showing the phone to lip, who had once again leaned his head onto my shoulder. he pressed the little box next to number 11, given or received a hickey, and smiled up at me.

“what’s next, princess?”

“god damn it, i told you not to call me that.” i reminded him, not fully hating it.

“ah, princess, i just don’t care.”

i went through the next five questions with no boxes to be checked, until i hit number 17, masturbated. i smirked, checking off that box with confidence, while i felt lip smile into my shoulder.

“at least the princess can take care of herself,” he mumbled.

“oh i absolutely can. you’d be surprised the miracles these fingers can work,” i said, wiggling two of my fingers at him in jest. i watched as he blushed. he actually blushed.

“did you just blush?” i asked.

“well you can’t give me an extremely graphic scene and except me not to imagine it,” he retorted, the pink in his cheeks subsiding as he got his gusto back.

“so you’re saying you just imagined me fingering myself. real classy, lip.” i teased, secretly loving the idea of it.

he opened his mouth as if in protest, but i put a finger to his lips. “shhhhh my dear lip. i’ve heard what i needed to hear.”

i kept scrolling, occasionally marking a box about masturbating. lip stayed silent, apparently in awe at how much i’ve done by myself.

“hey, i can help with that one,” he said, pointing at number 25, been undressed by member of preferred sex.

“why, yes you can. good thing you can read.”

he rolled his eyes. “tell me you’re wearing a bra under that shirt,” he begged.

“you really don’t want to see me shirtless?” i teased, this time tapping him on the nose.

“i don’t think you want me to see you shirtless,” lip replied, his eyes wide. “but maybe i’m wrong about you, princess.”

trying to disregard what that meant, i responded quick. “all you have to do is take my top off. quick and easy, and technically that’s undressing me.”

“whatever you say,” he said, sitting up and watching me with those perfect eyes. i watched as he softly tugged on the hem of my tank top, easily pulling it up and over my head. i let my hair fall back into place, and once i’d looked back up, lip was staring at me with an expression of utmost hunger.

he immediately looked away, apparently embarrassed to have been caught staring. “oh come on, lip. you’ve seen my body before.”

“i know, just,” he paused, considering his words carefully. “not like this.”

i blushed, rubbing my eyes to make it look like i’d made my face pink on purpose. i picked up my phone once again, finding my place. before lip could even say anything about number 30, i said, “i’m not giving you blue balls, so don’t even think about it.”

he looked scandalized. “i wasn’t even going to suggest that, princess. what little faith you have in me.”

i rolled my eyes, and handed him the phone. i moved down the couch and lay my head on his lap. “read them to me. i’ll tell you if i’ve done them.”

“had an orgasm due to someone else’s manipulation?” he asked.

“nope.”

“sent a sexually explicit text or instant message.”

“yes, actually.”

“dirty girl!” lip laughed. “who was the lucky recipient?”

“ugh, does it matter? obviously nothing came of it.”

“alright, alright. but what did you say?” he asked curiously.

i covered my eyes with my hand. “let’s just say it had something to do with a dream. and leave it at that.” i said, embarrassed.

“that gives me absolutely no information.” lip complained.

“that’s what you’re getting! check it off and move on.”

we had smooth sailing for a while, me giggling every time lip asked about anything sexual, us both knowing full well that i hadn’t done anything.

“used marijuana?” lip read.

“no,” i sighed for the hundredth time. instead of continuing, lip stopped.

he lowered the phone and gazed at me on his lap. “this i can help with.” he said confidently. “sit up a second?” he asked.

i did, gazing at him as he fumbled in his jeans pocket for something, finally pulling out an obviously self-rolled joint. “you’re gonna waste your weed on me?” i asked, and i meant it.

“not wasting anything,” he assured me, fishing around his other pocket for a lighter, which he soon retrieved. “i’ll show you.”

i watched him light the joint, watched the focus in his eyes, his fingers looking ever enticing doing something so nimble. he looked back up at me. “suck it in, but don’t inhale it. once it’s in your mouth, take a breath and let it go down.”

he demonstrated, putting the joint to his lips and slowly sucking in, letting it fill his mouth. he daintily took the joint out and took a deep, slow breath through his nose, easily inhaling the smoke. i watched him turn his head and blow it out the open window, ensuring no smoke waft in my room.

i was surely blushing, watching him do something he was so good at, but he payed no mind. “your turn,” he said, passing me the joint.

he nodded encouragingly, and repeated his instructions. “suck it in, just like that,” he said as i let the smoke fill my mouth. it was slightly sweet and incredibly strong. i couldn’t help it, i inhaled a tiny bit and started coughing up a storm. once i’d coughed up the rest of the smoke, i saw lip wasn’t making fun of me, but laughing and smiling. “first time’s always the hardest,” he assured me.

“i wanna try again,” i said boldly, putting the joint back up to my mouth.

“of course you’re trying again. i’m not leaving until you’ve successfully inhaled.”

i tried once more, sucking in the smoke slowly, letting the taste linger a little before taking a slow, deep breath, just as lip had, and feeling the fresh air mixed with the weed flood down my throat. i leaned over him and shakily exhaled out of the window, then turned back as he watched my proudly.

“and that’s how it’s done, ladies and gentlemen!” lip exclaimed, taking the joint back from me.

i made a mock bow and watched him gracefully take another hit. maybe it was the weed, or maybe i was just sick of waiting and watching him be perfect, but i said, “you know what i always wanted to try?”

“hm?” he inquired, flicking the joint so the ashes fell outside my window.

“shotgunning.” i held my breath, waiting for his response.

“then i absolutely must indulge,” lip confirmed, smiling wide. “come here,” he motioned for me to move closer to him. i did, my legs hanging across his lap as our faces drew ever nearer.

“you ready?” he asked. i nodded, eager beyond eager.

he slowly took a hit, inhaled, and moved closer to my face. his lips were less than a centimeter from mine, and i opened my mouth in anticipation. his unoccupied hand found the side of my head, and gripping my cheek, he opened his mouth and exhaled into my own, his eyes closed as if in pleasure.

i sucked in the smoke, pulling back from him, only to inhale and exhale right onto his face, watching his nose scrunch to prevent the smoke from traveling up his nostrils.

he opened his eyes, and finally said the words i’d been waiting to hear for years.

“can i kiss you?”

PART TWO click here

#lip gallagher #phillip gallagher #shameless #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher smut

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akkivee · 2 months

Text

The Rosho Special☆ Cream of the Crop Curry: Hypmic Curry Drama Track TL

Sasara: Oh, you’ve really been cookin’!

Rei: That curry smell is really making me hungry!

Rosho: It’s a miracle I was able to even decipher what you meant in that text! Why am I the only one working on this??

Sasara: Don’t sweat the small stuff! Have you finished making our super interesting curry yet?

Rosho: I did my best to follow your recipe but…

Rei: Hm? You didn’t make a normal curry?

Sasara: Tut tut tut! You see, this curry was made with some special ingredients!

Rei: It looks brown like any other curry, so I can’t tell the difference.

Sasara: I’ll give you a hint! I was thinking of calling it, "This Curry's Got You Gigged!!" Setting off any bells??

Rei: You can’t be thing about… Actually, no, that hint was so stupid, I got nothing for you.

Sasara: Hey now!!

Rosho: I used flounder in the curry, but if you can’t tell that at a glance, that’s gotta mean your joke’s fallen flat, right?

Rei: The curry’s meant sell, so it should have a little more impact.

Sasara: I guess you’re right… It’s gotta be appealing televised too…

Rosho: Let’s take a moment to brainstorm.

-----------

Sasara: *pops a cold one open* Man, nothing’s coming to mind at all…!

Rei: The theme you had settled on was, “A Bizarre Brown Curry,” right?

Rosho: We shouldn’t even try to be teeming with themes! It’s all about the flavours!!

Sasara: “Okra-zy Curry” doesn’t sound too bad!

Rosho: Okra me a river!!

Rei: How about “Kelp!! Addicted to Seaweed Curry”?

Rosho: Oh, now you’re just sailing on his coattails!

Sasasa: “Ya Kraken Me Up Squid Curry”!!

Rosho: Quit it with the seafood puns!! Geez, you’re not even trying to solve the root of the problem.

Sasara: Nyahaha…! No, yeah, you’re right.

Rei: But curry’s just curry, isn’t it? How can you even get someone to give a laugh at it at just a glance?

Rosho: How many times do I gotta say, that’s why we’re sittin’ around thinkin’ about it!!

Sasara: I think the alcohol’s getting to us~ Let’s get some food down, so we can sober up.

Rei: I agree. I’d like one order of flounder curry with rice!

Rosho: You takin’ my home as an izakaya?? Serve your own curry!!

Sasara: Phew whee, Mista Rosho here sure is stingy!

Rei: Well, sounds like I got no other choice.

---------------

Rei: Hey, so this is getting annoying to handle, you mind if I use this whole pot?

Sasara: Rosho, whatcha want me to do with this bag?

Rosho: Shut up, the both of you!! For now, just bring everything to me.

Rei: And there. Rice is served~

Sasara: And here’s a bit of the curry to top it off!

Rosho: Oh yeah, we’re using this too!

Sasara: “A White Stew for Rice”? You brought out some boil in bag goods you had bagged up?

Rosho: A student of mine gave it to me as a souvenir from a Hokkaido trip. It apparently has some Hokkaido specialties in it.

Rei: Their milk is incredibly tasty. And so… *pours it in*

Rosho: Hey!!!! What the heck are you doing??

Rei: This is my specialty, “Stew On This Rice”!

Rosho: The bag wasn’t even boiled yet… I guess I’ll stick it in the microwave.

Sasara: Wait a sec!

Rosho: What are you making that serious face for?

Sasara: If it’s cream… How does “Cream Of The Crop Curry” sound??

Rei: Ohhh, we are aiming for something eye-catching but… Wait, actually, this might work.

Rosho: It’s more of a stew though…

Sasara: Let’s have a taste test first!

*microwave dings*

DH: *eats*

Sasara: Woah??? This creamy stew and rice pair together so well!!

Rei: And this white colour gives it quite the impact.

Sasara: This is it! This is the curry that’s going to carry Dotsuitare Hompo to victory!

Rosho: But this isn’t curry?? What do you mean we’re going to use a stew??

Rei: Why’re you fussing? All we have to do is say we made a white curry.

Rosho: Then how do you explain how we made it??

Rei: White curry does exist, you know. There are spices for it and everything. Curry connoisseurs would be familiar with it.

Sasara: Is that so?? Well, there you have it, Rosho! I’ll let you figure out what those spices are!

Rosho: No, you won’t!! Shouldn’t we all be trying to figure this out??

Rei: Ahaha! I believe you’ll figure it out somehow.

Sasara: Alright! “The Rosho Special☆ Cream of The Crop Curry” is definitely going to take us to the top!!

#sasara nurude #rosho tsutsujimori #rei amayado #dotsuitare hompo #hypmic #hypnosis mic #HOW DO DH TRANSLATORS DO IT I WAS MISERABLE TRYING TO MAKE THEIR STUPID PUNS WORK #a lot got lost in the sauce i'm sorry i'm not better at this lol 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️#first and foremost is that the title in romaji reads 'omoshiroi karee'#and that the word for 'white' is 'shiroi'#'omoshiroi' and 'shiroi' you see the pun right lmao #i decided to tl it as cream of the crop bc cream is a shade of white and it has milk lol win win i think #this whole thing was made of little puns like that i'll type them out if you ask but i won't in the tags lol #also if you've had a rice and chicken casserole add some curry spice to it and that is exactly this curry LMAO #i understand why rosho was concerned lmao but it was incredibly tasty lol #a very familiar tasting curry bc it tasted like a casserole but idk i kinda wanna dock points off for it lol #we'll see how it falls in the end lol #curry tl

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greengoblinswifey · 2 years

Note

hi love, i am in lovee with your writing. could you d0o a sub eddie x single mother reader, her husband died and she hasnt been with anyone til eddie. kinda age gap

well, this is gonna be long. I put my whole kaylaussy into it.

Eddie Munson x Milf!Reader

Warnings: Age gap(reader is 41, Eddie is 21) Sub!Eddie, Breeding kink, oral(m), cum eating, unprotected sex, creampie, mommy kink, praise kink, cock warming, fluff.

“God, your cooking tastes like Heaven Mrs. Y/L/N,” Eddie praised.

“I told you Eddie, call me by my maiden name or just Y/N and thank you,” you chuckled.

Eddie smiled and finished eating the rice and sushi you prepared. He decided not to go to college and scored a well paying job at the local video store so you decided to treat him. He was a nice boy, extra nice and flirty with you. You tried to tell yourself that’s just how he was and you were old enough to be his mother but fuck.

You hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Not since your husband passed.

“Be right back,” you said, snapping out of your thoughts to the sound of your daughter crying upstairs then your son following after.

“No no, you pay me to take care of them sometimes, you rest, I’ll go deal with it,” Eddie interrupted, standing up from the table.

“Are you sure?”

His eyes flickered down to your pouty lips then back to your eyes, “yeah, it’s fine Y/N.”

Your name rolled off his tongue so sweetly.

You smiled at him as he ran upstairs to tend to your children. While he did so, you cleared the table and threw away what you couldn’t finish. You placed the dishes and utensils in the sink and started washing.

“Here, I’ll help,” Eddie offered. You didn’t protest, you allowed him to dry the dishes and pack them away. Your hands brushed multiple times and the sheer sexual tension could be cut with a knife.

“Uh, are they asleep?” you asked.

“They are, we can have some alone time,” he smiled.

You laughed in response, thinking he was joking like he always was but he knew he was dead serious.

You sat on the couch while he placed one of his Ozzy cassettes in the cassette player. As he sat beside you, you saw his hardness. He was always at least half hard when he was around you.

“You know, I always tell my friends you’re my dream woman,” he whispered.

“Eddie, I’m twenty years older than you. There are many pretty girls your age you could get,” you chuckled, almost sounding sad.

He cupped your cheek gently, testing the waters before you melted into his touch. “I don’t care about pretty girls my age. Ever since I saw you, you were the girl I wanted. Give me a chance Y/N, the age gap be damned,” he pleaded, his brown eyes sparking, “I have a job, I can take care of you, take care of the kids. You know I sell on the side too, that can help. We can even have more kids when you’re ready. I’d do anything for you Y/N, I want this life with you.”

By now you were fighting tears. You never thought you would feel like this again but Eddie, he was something else. The age gap be damned.

You thought for a while then nodded happily and soon, he was pulling you on top of him in a lust filled kissed.

"Mommy," he whimpered softly, making you moan into the kiss. He had one hand on your hip, making you grind on his bulge while the other cupped your cheek.

"Take me upstairs," you panted.

He almost knocked over a few of your family portraits as he took you upstairs to your room, your lips still on his.

“Get on the bed, let mommy make you feel good,” you demanded.

He eagerly obeyed, putting you down and sitting on the bed in anticipation. With your doe eyes on his, you unbuckled his pants and pulled it and his boxers down in one swift motion. He had the prettiest cock you had ever seen and after not having sex for over a year, you desperately needed him inside you. But you were focusing on his pleasure first.

Your soft hands took ahold of his cock gently, stroking it as he sucked in a breath.

“So responsive and I’ve barely touched you,” you whispered.

You gave the leaking tip a kiss before swirling your tongue around it and collecting the precum. You spat it back on the tip then took all of him into your mouth.

“Mommy, oh fuck, feels like fucking Heaven,” he managed to say as you took him down your throat. He wasn’t sure where he was, or if what he was experiencing was real, all he knew was that he was loving every second of it. If your mouth felt that good, imagine your pussy.

He tried his best to contain his moans, remembering your children were right down the hall.

“If you keep taking me like that, I’m gonna cum fast,” he moaned. That’s exactly what you wanted.

You sucked enough dicks to be able to take all of him in your mouth and down your throat while your hands massaged his balls. You sucked the sides then licked from the base, all the way to the tip leaking with more precum then taking his dick back into your throat.

“M-mommy, shit, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?” he whimpered.

You took him out of your mouth with a dramatic pop and a trail of spit following, “in my mouth.”

He held your head down and bucked his hips before letting his warm seed spurt into your mouth. He always thought you were beautiful but with a mouthful of his cum, you were an angel. And you swallowed too. An absolute goddess.

“Thank you mommy,” he panted, collapsing onto the bed.

You tossed your now wet and ruined panties aside and hovered over his hard length, your knees on either side of him. You hiked your red dress up and slowly sank down on him, both of you gasping at the new feeling.

“You’re so fucking wet mommy. You feel so good,” Eddie moaned, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Mm, you’re so big,” you praised, allowing yourself to adjust before bouncing.

He sat up and thrusted up into you before pulling your dress down to reveal your breasts and sucking on them.

“I can’t fucking wait until they’re full of milk. Gonna suck them whenever you’re full,” he panted.

“Well, make it happen,” you said.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, fuck your babies into me so my breasts can be full of milk again. Get me pregnant Eddie,” you begged.

“Fucking hell, you can’t say shit like that mommy.”

“I mean it. Fill me up Eddie. Fuck your babies into me.”

He gripped your hips bruisingly as you rode his cock and spelt your name. His eyes rolled all the way back into his head and he moaned out feeling your walls clench and pulsate around him, He’d never felt anything like it before. He’d never felt anything better.

“Oh God baby, mommy’s gonna cum, Take me there, make me cum,”

He lifted you up and placed you on your back, his cock not leaving you. He began pounding into you, both his hands on your hips as he brought you over the edge.

“Good boy, good job, you’re so good to me,” you moaned, as sweet release washed over you and your back arched off the bed.

He pushed your legs back to your chest, chasing his own orgasm as he fucked into you.

“C’mon sweet boy. Cum for me, cum for your mommy. Fill me up with your babies. Fuck your babies into me. Make me a mommy again,” you cried.

Your words brought him over the edge and you moaned in satisfaction as his warm cum filled your pussy up and slowly began to leak out of you.

“Keep your cock inside me all night. Don’t let any of it go to waste,” you said.

He laid on the bed and pulled you on top of him, slipping his cock inside you and holding you tight. He kissed all over your exposed skin, giving you the love you never thought you would experience again.

“I can’t wait to raise these babies with you, to start this life with you. Fuck, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

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lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— again and again (a teaser) ⟢

pairing: mingyu x reader

summary: your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

word count: 1.7k words

tags: exes, fake dating, pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut (in later scenes; the teaser is completely sfw)

warnings: some medical jargon, mentions of shots (for pets)

notes: omg this is so long for a teaser, but it's fine LMAO i'll be away this weekend, so i thought i'd treat you guys to a little something i'm currently working on ^__^ i hope you like it!

When you hear the telltale ring as the call connects to its intended recipient, you wonder why you even considered this idea in the first place. Not to mention, you’re getting a nasty case of phone call anxiety—one that you haven’t felt in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because of the identity of the person you’re calling that your nerves are all over the place.

In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even going to answer. There are a million and a half reasons why famous superstar Kim Mingyu won’t be able to pick up your call. He could be shooting for a music video or some fashion magazine. He could be in the middle of an interview. Or he could be out spending time with his members like tends to these days if his recent Instagram posts are anything to go by.

But you try anyway because your mother sounded so hopeful in the phone call you just hung up on five minutes ago (The rice wine he got for us last Christmas was splendid! He’ll bring some again for Chuseok, won’t he?), that you just didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

So, because you can’t take back the pretty white lies you uttered (Uh, of course he will. Gyu told me he missed everyone back at home, too. Especially Namja), you’re attempting to rope Mingyu into the charade even if the odds are against you.

The first call doesn’t go through. Neither does the second.

By your third try, you’re about to accept the fact that you’re going to have to make some due corrections to what you told your mother until you hear a groggy, “Hello?” on the other line.

You nearly fall off your seat at the throaty sound of Mingyu’s voice, but you’d rather not get weird looks from your receptionist, so you breathe in as deeply (and quietly) as you can before mustering a smile that he won’t even be able to see.

“Hey, Mingyu, it’s me,” you begin, a bit proud of how your voice didn’t even falter. “It’s been a while. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

He doesn’t respond for a while, and the prolonged silence makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Did the call fall through? Did he not hear what you said? But just when you’re about to repeat the words—

“Kind of,” Mingyu grumbles, and you try not to think about how sexy his morning voice sounds despite it being two in the afternoon. “We finished taping a variety show today and I figured I’d get some sleep. It’s midnight right now.”

Well that’s news to you.

“Oh. You’re not in Korea?”

“Nah. We’re in New York for some brand collaborations,” he says, and you hear some rustling in the background, followed by a yawn. “Though I doubt you’ve been keeping tabs on us.”

Okay, he doesn’t have to call you out like that.

Sure, you still catch posts from Mingyu, as well as the other twelve members of SEVENTEEN from time to time, but…after breaking up with him (on good terms, promise!), you thought it’s best if you didn’t see too much of them anymore. The block and mute buttons are your best friends, and while you didn’t use them on the members directly, gossip outlets were your regular targets.

So to speak, it’s been a peaceful six months since your break up with Mingyu.

Until now.

“Do you need something?” he asks, and you realize you didn’t respond to what he said last. “Whatever it is, I might not be able to help you out right away. We’re holed up here until next month.”

Well…that’s all the confirmation you needed.

“I see,” you sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “It’s— It’s okay.”

“So you do need something,” Mingyu points out, voice much clearer now than it was two minutes ago. Like he was more awake. “What is it?”

“Nothing you should worry about, Gyu,” you reassure before making a face, not realizing how easily the old nickname just slipped out. “I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to—”

The sound of him whining at the other end sends another rush of vertigo through your entire being. “Come on, I’m awake anyways right? You know how hard it is for me to fall asleep again.”

“If I’d known we weren’t in the same continent, I wouldn’t have called altogether,” you say before quaintly adding, “Shit. This counts as an international call, doesn’t it?”

There’s someone else in the room with him, you think—a quiet drawl of Mingyu-hyung, what time is it? You immediately recognize it as Seungkwan.

“Five minutes from midnight,” Mingyu says, and Seungkwan asks another question that you aren’t able to catch. “Who am I talking to? Bookkeu and Bobpul’s worst enemy.”

“Hey!” You scowl at him. “They never even whined when you and Seungkwan brought them to me for their shots!”

“Noona? Why are you calling this guy?” Seungkwan says a bit more loudly for you to hear. “Didn’t you dump him already? Good choice, by the way.”

This time it’s Mingyu’s turn to utter out a semi-offended, “Hey! Mind your own business, Seungkwan-ah.”

A few minutes of bickering with his dongsaeng later, you figure that Mingyu must’ve gone outside of their hotel room for some privacy. You can vaguely hear the sound of the wind blowing on his end before he heaves a deep sigh.

“Sorry about that.” He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, if you’re not going to tell me about what you needed help with, how are you? Is the clinic doing well? Did your receptionist finally ditch her shitty boyfriend? Does that one guy with a husky still hit on you?”

You’re a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of questions. Last you checked, you haven’t spoken to Mingyu since you greeted him on his birthday over a quick text message. But then again, your ex does have a talent for completely ignoring the time that exists in between interactions. Mingyu’s always been amicable for conversation, idol or not, boyfriend or not.

The mere thought that he hasn’t changed at all makes your heart ache in more ways than one.

You manage a quiet laugh. “I’m fine. The clinic’s fine. Chae has a new boyfriend now. He even helps us sort out new products on the shelves sometimes.”

At the mention of her name, your receptionist whips her head in your direction, one brow raised. You shake your head with a smile, gesturing that this is nothing she should even be remotely concerned about.

It’s just Mingyu after all.

“Okay, how about the guy who—”

“I turned him down when he asked me out for lunch last week.”

He whistles. “Ouch. And he’s been trying to get with you all this time.”

“I don’t usually date my clients, you know.”

“Yeah? I must be special then.”

Then comes the silence—so thick, you can cut through it with a knife.

“Uh, so I have a patient coming in an hour for a castration procedure,” you tell him a bit awkwardly. “Gotta prepare everything before the owner arrives.”

Mingyu sighs, and you can almost imagine him pouting. “You’re really not gonna tell me? I can still help you with whatever you need even when I’m out here. Unless it requires me to, you know, physically be there.”

You chuckle. “That’s the thing, Gyu. You can’t help me because I need you to actually be here.”

“Oh. Why? What for?”

You inhale sharp breath through your nose, closing your eyes as your face warms with embarrassment. Chae is definitely looking at you funnily from her station now, but you tell yourself not to give it too much thought.

“Mom asked if I was bringing you with me for Chuseok,” you admit. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, so… They kind of have no idea that we aren’t together anymore.”

Mingyu falls silent for a while yet again, and you realize that your anxiousness spikes whenever he isn’t talking like there’s no tomorrow. You wonder if he’s figured out what you’re trying to insinuate and is silently berating you for the lapse in judgment. But when Mingyu bursts out laughing on the other end, you suddenly don't mind being on the receiving end of his silence after all.

“No way,” he gasps between chuckles. “You were going to ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend over the holidays, weren’t you?! One of the fans wrote a story about the exact same thing once, except it’s between me and Wonwoo-hyung. It was in English though, but Vernon translated it pretty well.”

…Kim Mingyu admitting to reading fanfiction about himself and Wonwoo aside, you groan. “What am I supposed to do? My family loves you. I’d rather not dampen the Chuseok spirit by saying their favorite son has unfortunately made his unannounced exit half a year ago.”

“So you’re willing to pretend we’re still together just to keep them happy?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like you’re an ex I should be ashamed of, Gyu.”

“Because I’m an idol that millions are vying for?”

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s because out of all my exes, you’re the only one that Namja actually likes. That’s pretty much the highest honor you can receive in your entire life.”

Your heart does a little flip when Mingyu barks out another light-hearted laugh. You tell yourself that you’re only reacting that way because…it has been a while since you talked to him. That, and Mingyu was always so smiley whenever you brought up your ten year-old retriever.

“Point taken,” he says. “I’d totally be down to help you out, but…yeah.”

“I knew you would be,” you reply, a sad smile ghosting your features. “That’s why I called.”

Silence settles over the line once again, but it’s, by no means, awkward. It’s more…sentimental. Like two old friends reminiscing about the good memories you shared.

Huh. You’re friends with Mingyu…

“Anyway, thanks for catching up with me, Mingyu,” you tell him before you end up saying something you’re not supposed to. “I’ll get going now. Good night.”

“Hey—”

You end the call before he can have the chance to make you falter.

end notes: like the teaser so far? leave a reply if you haven't filled out my taglist form yet and would like to be tagged once the full story is up!

edit: the full fic is up here!

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #svt fanfic #svt smut #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan

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justhere4kpop · 1 year

Text

Promise

A/N: Hi guys okay this is my first story. Its just a little oneshot. Thanks to @theaufanartist for reading it first!! ❤️❤️ I'm really nervous. I couldn't decide who to write about at first so I just went with who I thought about while writing. I have more in the works but they're definitely going to be longer than I anticipated. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: None but I could be wrong. I really just tried to write fluff!

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

Jeong Yunho, Stage name: Yunho, Birthday: March 23rd, 1999, Zodiac Sign: Aries, Height: 185cm (6’1”), Weight…

“WEIGHT?!” I screamed looking at the web page again. “First of all, that's so creepy and second, who cares?”

“y/n?!” said the 185cm man who just ran into the living room of our shared apartment. “What’s wrong? Why are you yelling?” He looked at me with a pout.

“Nothing just internet stalking you like I do every month, did you know kprofiles has your weight listed?” I held up my computer.

“Why did I think it was going to be an actual emergency?” Yunho let out a sigh as he sat on the couch next to me. “You can’t just scream like that. It makes me worried you’re hurt.”

“Aww does someone care about lil ole me?” I smiled up at him.

“As your secret idol boyfriend I absolutely do.” he smiled back at me as he pulled me into him from my spot on the couch.

“And what about as my not secret idol boyfriend?”

“Yes he cares about you too.” he kissed the top of my head. “Are you done stalking me on the internet now that I’m right here?”

“For now.” I closed my laptop and set it on the coffee table.

Yunho and I grew up together, the Jeong’s were my neighbors when I was a kid and since Yunho and I are the same age we were practically forced to hang out by our parents….although a few years down the line we stopped hating it so much. Yunho was my best friend, we could never stay apart for long even after he moved to Seoul. I remember when he left Gwangju in high school, of course he left right as I figured out that….maybe I liked him a little more than just my best friend. I didn’t want to hold him back from doing what he wanted. I was never one to be selfish, so I let him go. I would come visit as often as I could with school and getting a part-time job. I hated asking my dad for money all the time. It was weird my last visit 4 years ago ended with me staying, I just had finally had enough of being apart from him. My dad convinced me to just do what made me happy. I moved to Seoul for University and got an internship as a stylist at KQ.

The guys, especially Mingi, would tease Yunho all the time for his crush on me. I think they figured it out before he did. Well that’s what they’ll say, sometimes I think Yunho was scared to “ruin” things.

“Starshine, where’d you go?” The man next to me pulled me back from my daydream.

“Hmm?” I looked up at Yunho who was rubbing my arm. “Sorry just reminiscing. What’s up?”

“I asked what you wanted for dinner?”

“Oh, Fried Rice? I have a lot of leftover rice I should use and various things.”

“Sounds perfect.” he smiled.

Yeah 4 years together does sound perfect.

Yunho does his best to keep me protected from the limelight. Stay a little mysterious, doesn’t mean I don’t see the hate comments, or the tweets or anything bad. Sometimes they hurt a little more than I should let them, I mean these people don’t know me but….you still don’t want to hear or read that you’re hurting your boyfriend's career.

“Our anniversary is coming up!….4 years!” Yunho called out from the living room.

“I know dummy. I wouldn't forget it.”

“I can’t wait to give you your gift!!”

“Is it you in that tight black sweater?”

“No…..I could make it a part of that I guess!”

“I’d like that!” I called back after finishing up dinner. “Now get in here and eat.”

~~🌹~~

We had to work the day of our anniversary. There was a comeback soon so we had to finalize the designs for the outfits. The boys were in dance practice all day but we stole them a few times to measure and look at fabrics. Not the most stressful day but you know what they say, the calm before the storm. Yunho had worn that black sweater originally but I knew he wasn’t going to dance in it all day, he’d definitely overheat and pass out and then I’d be upset. He did wear it for me though. He also bought dinner for us to have at the studio since we were going to be running late. It’s not the most romantic but we’ll celebrate formally when we have time, you’d think he’d figure out that as long as he’s there that’s all I want.

The stylist team and I had finally finished our schedule for the day, unfortunately or…fortunately the boys were still practicing. So I had popped in like normal to wait until they finished. Yunho of course had the biggest grin when he saw my head peek through.

“Y/N!!!!” A chorus of boys yelled.

“You act like I haven’t seen any of you all da-aaAYY Yunho! Put Me Down!” I squealed being lifted off the ground.

“I missed you.” he said, putting me down cupping my cheek.

“You saw me 3 hours ago for dinner.” I chuckled.

“I miss you everytime.”

“Aww Yuyu.”

“Pffft Yuyu.” Wooyoung and Yeosang chuckled quietly behind the man at his nickname.

“You only do that to embarrass me.” Yunho rolled his eyes.

“And it works every time!” I smiled and pecked his lips which he hungrily returned full force.

“Okay just one more song to practice. Watch us pleaseeee” he pouted and squeezed my hand.

“Okay okay, not like I’m going anywhere.” I nodded and went to sit down before Yunho practically threw a chair right next to the camera that was filming them.

“There please!”

I gave him a knowing look, he was up to something. All the guys gave each other a nod. I see this is part of a surprise he had planned.

The music had started and it was one of my favorites. Of course I’d say that about any of their songs if I’m honest. However, the song was Promise, it's surely one of the more love song…songs. I watched as they did the choreography I’ve seen a million times (and probably done in my living room while Yunho was in the shower.) The lyrics hit me the way they always do, especially when I can’t help but feel like Yunho is performing this one for me. It’s the final chorus, just before that outro when Yunho takes a suspicious walk over to his jacket hanging on the wall hoping he was quick enough I wouldn’t notice. Jongho and San are finishing their part before they all part like the sea and Yunho walks to the front….Well that’s different from the original…….

“No one take you down.” San had finished.

Why is…..Why is Yunho….on….his….knee….

“Y/N. Starshine.” Yunho started. “When I first left to come to Seoul I didn’t understand why it hurt so bad to see you standing on the platform. I understood those feelings more and more every time I had to say goodbye when you’d leave again- ``''Yunho, if you're doing what I think you are, I really need you to ask faster.” I said tears already forming in my eyes.

“Let me finish!” he smiled. “I don’t ever want to go a day without you by my side any more. Remember what I said, I won’t let go of your hand. I promise you. Y/N, I love you will you-” “YES!” I jumped on him.

“You didn’t let me finish.” he chuckles but I was already crying into his shoulder.

“You ask too slow, and you used song lyrics.” I said through the happy sobs. “It doesn’t change my answer anyways. It’ll always be yes.”

No matter what darkness you walk in

Even if the only road is blocked on all sides

Remember what I said

I won't let go of your hand

I promise you.

❣️

#ateez #kpop #yunho #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #yunho x y/n #yunho x you #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x you

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tickly-trashcan · 1 year

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Skipping Training {Urokodaki, Sabito, and Giyuu}

A/N: Thank you for the request anon!!! I was a little nervous about writing this bc i wanted to make sure I did it well because i literally ADORE these three and... i ended up writing this in one sitting LOL it was so much fun!! I hope you enjoy and have a lovely day/night!!

Summary: Sabito and Giyuu are skipping their training to watch the sunset. But what happens when Urokodaki catches them?

Word Count: 1.1k (under the cut)

“C’mon, Giyuu, hurry!!” Sabito urged. He ran, hand entwined with Giyuu’s as they sped through the forest, Giyuu practically being dragged behind him as he panted.

“But, what if we get caught?” Giyuu wheezed, jerking as Sabito tugged his hand, trying to speed him up just a bit more. Sabito only laughed through his own labored breathing.

“I got Makomo to distract Urokodaki, don’t worry. But if we don’t get far enough, he’ll catch up!”

Giyuu shuddered at the thought of Urokodaki dragging them back to train. Final Selection was nearing, but Giyuu and Sabito were both getting too giddy and jittery to practice. Instead, they had been playing about, playing hide-and-seek or having tickle fights while Makomo trained. They had even dragged her off at one point, but they had all gotten in trouble later and were forced into a hundred sword swings.

Sabito finally halted, Giyuu nearly crashing into him as he desperately tried to catch his breath. “I think– I think we’re far enough,” He panted, trying not to sound like as if he was pleading to Sabito.

Sabito nodded triumphantly and took Giyuu’s hand again, leading him up the hill just a bit more, walking this time, much to Giyuu’s relief. They stopped at the top of the hill, surrounded by trees as they looked out at the horizon. The sun was finally starting to rise, it’s beautiful orange hue overtaking the deep blue sky of night.

Sabito and Giyuu sat down on one of the rocks, watching the sun as it rose. Sabito reached into his pocket and pulled out a few snacks, which the two of them nibbled on as they chatted.

“Are you nervous at all?” Giyuu asked Sabito, who had just stuffed his face full of rice crackers. He shook his head, swallowing the snacks as he turned to Giyuu with a grin on his face.

“I’m not nervous! Even if I was, I’d have to be brave in order to help protect you and Makomo!”

Giyuu chuckled, taking a few more bites as Sabito pat his back. He pulled him into a side hug as he pointed at the sun. “This is gonna be the last sunset we’ll get to see before Final Selection. Then we’re gonna train until we’re ready and we’re gonna finish it together.”

Giyuu nodded, whining when Sabito started to give him a noogie. “You’re gonna have to step it up, though! You’ve been slacking!”

Giyuu shoved Sabito away, laughing. “So have you! You’re the one who convinced me to run off while we’re supposed to be making breakfast, anyway.”

Sabito and Giyuu broke into laughter. They finally collected themselves and turned, ready to head back for training.

“I take it you’ve had plenty of time to train, yes?”

Sabito and Giyuu froze as they looked up at Urokodaki, who had been standing there for who knows how long, waiting for them to turn around. Sabito gulped and Giyuu played with his thumbs nervously.

“We were just… We…” Giyuu started, but then stopped as Urokodaki turned his attention toward him.

“We just wanted to watch the sunset one more time! We were just heading back to start training!”

Urokodaki tilted his head to the side, now looking at Sabito. “But you haven’t had breakfast. Unless you count those rice crackers.”

Sabito grumbled. “Well, they were good. And we don’t need breakfast to train, anyway! I bet we could take you right now!”

“Sabito, don’t!” Giyuu hissed, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back.

Urokodaki chuckled. “You could, hmm? Okay then. Giyuu, ready yourself.”

“Why me?!”

Urokodaki didn’t explain and only tossed him his wooden sword. Giyuu picked it up with a gulp as he readied himself into one of the stances he was taught. Sabito cheered him on as he charged at Urokodaki, sword raised. Urokodaki quickly disarmed him, his sword flying away as he knocked Giyuu down.

Sabito was quick to grab up the sword, coming at Urokodaki from behind as he went to swing. Urokodaki grabbed his wrist, the sword falling out of Sabito’s grip as Sabito yelped. He fell down next to Giyuu and grumbled, shoving Giyuu slightly.

“You can do better than that, Giyuu!”

“So could you!”

Urokodaki sighed. “This is why rice crackers are not a sufficient breakfast.”

“It’s not because of those!” Sabito grumbled, crossing his arms as Urokodaki stood above the two of them. He hummed.

“You’re right. You’re also lacking proper discipline right now. You think that because you’ve trained for so long you can slack off now that you’re almost there. But you’re wrong,” Urokodaki said, crouching down. “I’ll show you what happens when you slack.”

Sabito was about to spit back a retort, but he was surprised when Giyuu suddenly shrieked before bursting into laughter. He looked over, seeing that Urokodaki was scribbling his fingers across Giyuu’s stomach as he tried to curl up, giggling profusely.

“Urohohohokodaki!! Plehehease, not thahahat!”

Sabito went to scoot away while Urokodaki was distracted, but Urokodaki quickly noticed. He grabbed Sabito’s ankle just as he made a break for it, pulling him back as he began to tickle his hips. Sabito wailed and broke into his own fit of laughter, shaking his head as he tried to kick off Urokodaki.

“Stahahahap! Wahahait, it wahahahasn’t my fahahault! It wahahas Giyuu!!” Sabito squealed, making Giyuu gasp in offense through his frantic laughter.

“It wahahahas not!! You liahahahar!!” Giyuu laughed, snorting when Urokodaki found his ribs.

Giyuu tried to roll away, but Urokodaki managed to keep him in place as he continued to tickle the both of them. Sabito tried to push him away, but Urokodaki only went after his belly, making Sabito throw his head back as he cackled.

“We–We’ll trahahain! We prohohomise!” Sabito hollered. Giyuu nodded next to him, clamping his arm down as he tried to push away Urokodaki’s hand.

“We’ll trahahahain extrahaha hard!! Ahahand– And we’ll eat breheheheakfast!!” Giyuu squealed, snorting again.

Urokodaki hummed in contemplation, but he decided that the boys would hold their word. He relented, giving Sabito and Giyuu a chance to catch their breath as they rolled away from each other and from Urokodaki. Urokodaki went after them, scooping them up by the torso as he carried them back to the house. Makomo stood there waiting, chuckling as they came into view.

“You guys look tuckered out. Breakfast is ready if you want any.”

Sabito and Giyuu took one quick glance at Urokodaki before squirming out of his arms and running in for some breakfast. Makomo laughed as she turned to Urokodaki, who pat her head. The two of them followed the boys inside, where they all shared breakfast and got ready to do some training.

#demon slayer #anon #tickle fic #1k event #urokodaki #sabito #giyuu

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whump-me-all-night-long · 8 months

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Bleeding Leads

AI-less Whumptober Day 4: ALT 18: Misunderstanding

Masterlist

TWs: literally none except for Devin making very poor self-care choices, the whump will happen in the next part, I promise!

---

The truth of the matter was Devin Connally very often did not mean to end up where they ended up.

They just so happened to seem as if they had the ability to show up to the worst imaginable place at the worst imaginable time. And, while this was incredibly inconvenient in their day-to-day life, it did make them excel as an investigative journalist.

Much to their coworkers’ annoyance, Devin always seemed to get the best scoop and the fastest story and the most intriguing leads. They were almost embarrassed to admit that the vast majority of their career’s accomplishments were little more than misunderstandings, blown out of proportion.

They had found themself in the midst of everything from the mayor’s infidelity scandal (with the neighboring city’s mayor, nonetheless) to one of the largest drug busts in Fallgate City history to in-depth interviews with both convicts and local high schoolers that revealed some of the massive power imbalances that were being taken advantage of.

Needless to say, Devin had made quite a name for themself in the eight years since moving to Fallgate.

So, when they got the envelope in the mail, they really didn’t think much of it. They simply tossed it to the middle of their coffee table, where other unopened mail was laid, and headed towards their kitchen—kitchenette, really, and that was still being generous—where they opened their freezer and popped another frozen meal into their microwave.

Glancing at the packaging of the meal as they slid over to their coffee machine, they hummed to themself. Chicken and rice today, they thought. Well, at least whatever they’re claiming is chicken. They chuckled to themself. Now that would be one hell of an exposé.

They were just stirring the creamer into their steaming mug when the microwave dinged. Carrying their rather sad dinner to the living room—one beat-up couch, one second-hand coffee table with plenty of mystery stains, and a TV perched precariously atop a wooden drawer chest that always seemed to be wobbly—they sat down, pulling a worn blanket over their lap.

Taking a sip to test the temperature of their coffee, Devin absentmindedly turned the TV on, flipping to some food competition, a guilty pleasure of theirs, and began shoveling the food into their mouth. It had been a long day and they were ready to crawl into their small twin-sized bed and wait for their alarm to go off too early in the morning.

It was only after the food was gone and the last dredges of the coffee had gone cold that Devin bothered reaching for the stack of mail piled in front of them. Setting it on the couch beside them, they quickly flipped through everything to see if there was anything important.

Most if it was random catalogs, some of which were from companies they’d never even heard of, selling rather outlandish goods. There were a few bills thrown in, and Devin set those aside with a roll of their eyes. That left two things.

The first was a bent postcard, with a grainy photo of what looked like the Sydney Opera House. Flipping it over, Devin immediately recognized the slanted scrawl of their oldest brother, Kai’s handwriting.

Dev-

Just thought I’d send this to you, I know how much you used to want to travel when you were younger. I’m here for another month or so while Pippa finishes up… whatever she’s doing with the local marine life. When I get back stateside, we should totally try to meet up! You still living in Fallgate, right? Anyways, I think I heard Callum just wake up from his nap, so I better go.

Talk to you later!

Kai

Devin finished reading and slowly flipped the postcard back over. They would never tell anyone this, but they still longed to see the world. That was part of why they worked so hard; so, eventually, one day, they might be able to work their way up to a nation-wide newspaper and then possibly travel abroad for international pieces.

Still, it was nice knowing at least one person had thought of them, even if it was Kai, who was too busy with his wife and children to bother actually showing up. Breathing deeply, Devin set the letter aside, slowly letting go of the surge of anger that begged to course through them for just a moment-

Looking at the other piece of mail remaining, Devin frowned, brow creasing slightly. They didn’t recognize the elegant script that had written their address—no name, though—and the paper was heavy and creamy. Not cheap, as far as Devin was concerned.

Carefully sliding a nail under the actual wax seal that closed the envelope, Devin slowly pulled out an equally fancy looking card.

Written on creamy white paper (that honestly might’ve been softer than their sheets) it appeared to be an invitation:

Your esteemed presence is requested

Mr. Erik Wildre, CEO of Explority Voyages, Inc.

8pm on the 22 of September

105 Penrose Boulevard

Devin blinked, flipping the invitation over, half a mind waiting to see a “HA! GOTCHA!” jumping out at them. Nothing.

Their brow creasing ever so slightly, Devin bit their lip, thinking hard. Today was Tuesday, and the date was for this Friday. That only gave them a few days to prepare. Still, they’d been trying to get in contact with Mr. Wildre for several months now—the official reason being an interview on his latest philanthropic efforts, but Devin had fully planned to then inquire about some of the nastier rumors going around—and it was like trying to sweet-talk a concrete wall. A concrete wall that was attached to Fort Knox.

So, Devin decided, it was totally worth it.

---

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober @panic-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @lonesome--hunter @latenightcupsofcoffee @badluck990

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leigh writes #bleeding leads #devin connally #whump #whump writing #or at least whump SOON

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the12thnightproject · 1 year

Text

Chapter 28: Bad Timing. Two people, one cave, and... consent is sexy. NSFW, minors DNI.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: here [Bonus chapter today]

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

The sound of the rain muffled the outside, making it feel like the world was limited to this small, dark space. Limited to simply the two of us. I leaned into Shingen’s side, still shivering from the onslaught of memories.

“Cold?” He rubbed my back.

“It’s the cave. I don’t like… it’s a long story.” One I didn’t feel prepared to tell at the moment.

“From what your murderous friend stated the other night, I gather you were locked in a box and left for dead -or worse?” So, Shingen had been paying attention to Iekane’s moustache twirling. He never had had any trouble putting bits of information together.

“I was in there long enough that that itself became the ‘or worse’.” My hand tightened on his – he was the lifeline preventing me from reliving it.

“I’m sorry. This is probably the wrong time, the wrong place, to talk about it.” He leaned away, then I heard something being dragged across the ground, and that clinking noise again. He handed me a bottle. Oh right, the trader had given him some sake. “Would this help?”

“You’d think so, but I found out the hard way that it makes all those memories more intense.” Even a little alcohol aggravated my insomnia – more generally brought on flashbacks like the one I’d just experienced. I was not up for testing my limits tonight. But I understood that he had a need to do something for me, so I asked, “Is there’s any food left?”

He took the bottle back, settled it somewhere out of reach. “Some, yes. Will you be alright for a moment while I try to find it?”

“Of course.” Actually, I did not want to let go of his hand, but there was no way I would admit that to him.

His warmth left my side, but it was only a moment, as promised, before he returned, not just with the rest of the food, but with the other fur. He put his arm back around me and pulled the furs over top both of us. He handed me a rice cake, and I took a bite. It was about as cozy as you could get – in the middle of a scene from my worst nightmare. My evening had turned into a strange Sengoku version of Netflix and chill, except, dry rice instead of popcorn, a cave wall instead of a couch, a flashback instead of Netflix… and no chill because I had burned that bridge when I lied to him.

I owed him more than I could ever repay, especially after the way I had treated him.

“Thank you for – everything,” I said. For helping me through a panic attack, for the companionship, for fishing me out of the river... for being kind when he had every reason to despise me. “And I’m sorry for-”

He didn’t let me finish, choosing instead to go for a joke. “For making my heart stop when you fell out of the tree?” His arm tightened around me, pulling me close. I could feel his heart beating fierce and strong, but he was holding me as if he didn’t want to let go – and I wondered if it had been a joke after all.

“I didn’t fall, but yes, I’m sorry that scared you.” I knew, though, that I had to get to the bigger reparation. He didn’t deserve to continue thinking that I ran away because he’d scared me. “I’m sorry that I ran, that I made you believe you were forcing yourself on me. That I made you think you were frightening me. What I was afraid of wasn’t you, it was…” I trailed off, even at that moment, unable to find the words for what I was afraid of. “You didn’t force me. I wasn’t unwilling… I just didn’t want to be willing.”

Could he untangle that mess of an apology? I wasn’t even sure I could.

He pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around me. I knew without asking that he meant to comfort, not seduce. My apology had given him the confidence to hold me without any further worry that I would misinterpret his motive. “Are you saying that you want me, but don’t want to want me?”

“That’s the sum of it, yeah.” This cozy sitting on the lap thing was nice. I did my best to resist the urge to snuggle.

He rested his chin on the top of my head. Looked like the snuggle thing was on. “I understand. As it happens, I don’t want to want you either.”

Yes, he’d made that really clear over the past couple of days. But… “You want nearly every woman you cross paths with.”

The response came, not in his practiced come-hither tone, but all in a blurt, as if my own inelegant words had been contagious. “I don’t want to want you because you’re not every woman. You lie to me with the ease of a practiced spy, have inconsistent respect for authority, disregard your own safety… and I can’t stop thinking about the look you get on your face when you’re trying to solve a puzzle, or about to enact a daredevil stunt that will turn my hair grey. I wanted you at the lake, I wanted you when you stole my clothes, I wanted you when you were ‘Katsu,’ and I still wanted you even when I was furious enough to strangle you.”

I touched his face, my hand drawn there by his words, and the vulnerability behind them. His body relaxed, as if my hand had extracted the remainder of the emotional poison I’d administered the other night. He exhaled a long breath and added. “I may never stop wanting you.”

Shingen was difficult to resist when he was being flirtatious and seductive. But when he spoke like this – it was compelling. Powerful. Irresistible. I felt…

Seen.

“I yield.” Then I kissed him lightly. He put his hand on the back of my head, and returned the kiss, with a gentle, sweet one of his own, then pulled back with a sigh. That was all. That was enough. There was no reason to feel as if we were on top of a roller coaster, slipping over the edge, waiting for gravity to take over.

And yet…

I was holding my breath…

Waiting…

Gravity took over…

…pulling him back to me, me back to him. We crashed together, kissing each other deeply, mouths, lips, tongues, as the coaster ride slung us deep into a valley, whipped around a curve, zooming upside down, until my heart was in my throat, and I clung to him for all that I was worth, never wanting that ride to end.

For two people who don’t want to want each other, we were doing pretty well.

When we finally parted, both out of breath, he rubbed his thumb across my mouth and said, “To make sure, that wasn’t simply to play off the rest of your kiss debt, was it? Or because the cave makes you feel vulnerable?”

Responding was both easier and more difficult because I couldn’t see his face, wouldn’t be able to tell how he reacted to anything I said. “It was because you see me. Or ok right at this moment you can’t physically see anything – and because, not that I have any right to expect you to believe me, and maybe you don’t want to know this anyway, but, because I c-c-care about you.”

“I do believe you.” His hand trailed across my cheek, tracing me like a blind man would, learning the shape of my nose, my brows, my eyelids.

“Oh. Well. Good.” I nestled under his chin. Let the snuggling continue.

“You’re a masterful liar, but you can’t tell the truth without adding an extra fifty words or stuttering.” Again, he stroked my hair, gently untangling the snarls the day and the river had put into it.

“Huh. I’ll have to work on that.” Come to think about it, Sasuke had mentioned my ‘word vomit’ a couple of times, and-

Shingen was shaking… with laughter?

“What?!” What was funny about that?

That only made it worse. His laughter bounced off the walls of the cave and warmed in a way that the fur blanket had not. I don’t know what I did to make him laugh so hard, but I hadn’t heard him laugh this freely before, and if I had caused that, then, I guess I could put up with being the butt of some unknown joke.

“It’s just… you sounded so unrepentant.” He kissed the side of my head. “Actually, it’s rather… enchanting… now that I’m not being driven mad by your many personas.”

“If one is going to lie, then one ought to do a good job of it.” Another rumble of laughter from him told me that that had sounded as stuffy to him as it had to my own ears. “But I try to only lie for a good reason, and I try to avoid to hurting people. I truly did not think you’d ever encounter me as a girl. And when you did… it got… complicated. I’m sorry that what I said, and what I didn’t say, that night hurt you. It was the wrong kind of lie.”

“My original misconception about the lady spy I met at the lake contributed to the, in your words, complications.” His words were measured, as if he had sorted through his memories, and viewed them through a different set of perceptions. And I was gratefully that his ability to think strategically also gave him the ability rethink and reframe his assumptions. “I accept your apology, if you can accept mine for putting you in situations where you believed your only option was to run. You will always have another option.”

I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me nod. “If it makes you feel any better, I did suffer a bit too from leaving so abruptly.”

“Oh?” He took one of my hands, letting it rest lightly in his own, tapped my index finger with his. “We can’t have that. Do you still need some attention, Devil? Care to show me where?”

Ah, the flirt was coming out to play again, but now that we appeared to be on the same page about… well, everything, I was more than ok with that. Sometimes, he was just… fun. I knew, and I suppose I had always known, that I could simply tell him that it was none of his business, or that I was tired…and he would accept my refusal. But it was easy to fall back into that pattern of banter that we’d had when he met me as ‘Angel.’ “I would… but I managed to take care of matters on my own.”

That, however, did not quite go over the way I had expected it to. There was an additional… tension… in his body. He put his mouth close to my ear and said in that honey-dripped voice he used on occasion, “The next time you feel the need to, er, shall we say, take matters into your own hands, come find me first.”

With his thumb, he massaged the palm of my hand, tracing slow deliberate circles. The sensation rippled from my hand outward, as if someone had dropped a pebble in a still quiet pond. I paused to make sure I could speak without sounding as breathy as a someone filming an adult movie. “In order to help me out?”

“Mm, yes, if that is your wish. Otherwise,” and his voice got even slower and sweeter, his breath tickling the skin below my ear, “I want to watch.”

Oh, hello.

That warm and cozy feeling was rapidly replaced by an equally warm, but not-at-all cozy feeling. “Watch? But not participate?” All he was doing was holding my hand, but that was enough to convince me that his participation would be more fun than my solo act.

“I find this area here,” he ran the back of his hand across my forehead, “to be more intriguing than any other part of you.” He skimmed that hand down my side, stopping at my hip. “You know what brings you pleasure … why would I not want to learn that?”

Why not indeed? Although I imagined I could learn many, many things from him as well. “No knowledge is ever wasted.”

“Exactly. I’m an expert at gathering information, analyzing it… applying it.” He didn’t move his hand, simply let it rest of my hip, its warm weight slowly heating the skin beneath. “What is it that you think about when you … care for yourself?”

Well… as long as he was asking...

“I like to mentally set a scene… envision a specific place, an atmosphere.” An atmosphere that never had involved a cave, that was for certain. It had, in recent weeks, involved a specific lake.

“Specific partner?”

“Maybe.”

“That night,” he brought my palm to his mouth, kissed it, then his tongue traced those same circles his thumb had before, “while you were taking care of yourself, were you thinking of me?”

“Not at all,” I was able to say confidently. Yes, I lied. And I knew he was aware of that.

“I’ll take that as a yes, Goddess of Liars. Were you imagining me doing this?” His kissed along my jawline down to the base of my throat, and I almost leaped out of my skin in response. The too-large kimono had already slipped down, leaving my shoulder bare to the chill in the cave. “Or… maybe this?” He pushed the material further aside, cupped my breast, teased it with his thumb, the calloused texture of his skin sending sparks along every sensitive nerve.

I hadn’t specifically imagined that – but it was almost a certainty that I would be adding it to the playlist. He brought his lips to my nipple, swiped it with his tongue, and I moaned my appreciation to him for enhancing my fantasy.

He turned his attention to my other breast, licking and sucking until I could stand it no longer. I tugged at his hair and brought his face back up to mine – I wanted his mouth on my own.

“Demanding, aren’t you, Devil?” he said before our mouths came together, his lips making equal demands of mine. He pulled me closer, his kimono naturally falling open, and distracted by the intensity of skin gliding across skin, I didn’t even notice that the hand that had been warming my hip had moved, until his fingers teased my legs open. “In your fantasies that night, was I here?”

“Y-y-yes,” I managed to say. Damn it, he was right, I did stutter when I told the truth.

“Would you allow me to make that fantasy come true… now?” His hand stayed between my thighs, moving no further, but simply the fact that he was there created a glow all through me.

“Y-yes,” I said again. I was more than ok with that. In fact, I’d be tempted to murder him if he didn’t.

“I wish I could see your face,” he said as his fingers reached the valley between my legs and lightly stroked its sensitive flesh.

Even if there had been light, he wouldn’t be able to see my face, because I had buried it in the crook of his neck. Every time I drew a gasping breath, I could taste the salt of his sweat and feel his heart pounding against my cheek.

“There’s a field outside of Kasugayama castle that, once the rain has ended, will be filled with wildflowers.” I didn’t know where he was going with the wildflowers, but did it matter? With deliberate slowness, he once again moved his thumb in a circle, pressing and stroking until I dug my fingernails into his shoulders and moaned. “I’ll take you there, one morning at sunrise. We’ll lie amongst the flowers, and you will be wearing nothing but the sky. I want to gaze in your lovely eyes when you take me inside your body.”

Cave… what cave? I could see that field now, the flowers, and the sky. In the fantasy, Shingen was propped up on his forearms, gazing into my eyes, his hips between my own. But I didn’t need the fantasy. The reality was working for me just fine. Shingen was attuned to my responses, knowing just how much pressure and tempo to put into his touch, and I arched into his hand, pushing against him, my breath in sharp gasps.

“That’s it, Devil, let me do this for you.” He paused for one agonizing second, resumed his caresses, faster, until everything inside clenched then let go, and I called his name until it echoed through the walls of the cave.

“I’m surrounded by your sweet voice,” he whispered, pulling me close while I was still shaking with the aftershocks, his hands holding onto my trembling hips, until I collapsed into him, feeling too relaxed to move.

While I lay there in a puddle, he found the furs that had been thrown aside during our heated explorations and pulled it back up over both of us. It would have been easy to succumb to relaxation, but… fair is fair. I tugged at the sash of his kimono. “What about you? Don’t you want…?”

He took my hands in his, kissed my fingers. “There’s nothing I would enjoy more, but what I have in mind will have to wait until we’re in a more friendly environment, or one of us could end up with a head injury.”

What – exactly – did he have in mind?

But in this complete darkness, it was difficult to determine the boundaries of the cave walls, and I imagined the rock-strewn ground would present difficulties of its own – kneeling on a sharp stone would not be pleasant. With a sigh, I said, “I suppose.”

“Your disappointment is flattering.” And indeed, there was regret in his voice. He kissed my forehead. “I do intend to take you in that field of flowers, shower you in petals, kiss your sun-warmed skin.”

It had better stop raining really damn soon

“That sounded like a poem.” His voice was soothing, and I was being lulled halfway into sleep.

“I used to write poetry,” he said, and somehow that didn’t even come as a surprise to me. “I was told I was fairly good at it.”

He sounded regretful, somehow, so I asked, “Why did you stop writing it?”

“Clan responsibilities. I discovered a greater talent for tactics and strategy, and it became necessary. There’s only so much time...” He propped himself back against the wall of the cave. “We should at least try to get some sleep. Are you comfortable?”

His muscular thigh didn’t exactly make for a soft pillow, but I was warm and sleepy enough that it didn’t matter. “Yes. Are you? Wouldn’t you rather lie down?”

“This will actually be better for me,” he said, although what he meant by that, I didn’t know. Before I could ask for clarification, he kissed my forehead and whispered, “sweet dreams, Devil.”

At that, I let myself drift into a restless doze.

Although I would like to have been able to say that my claustrophobia and insomnia had been miraculously cured, or even that my exhaustion from the previous days overruled my subconscious, that was not the case. I woke up several times in the night, startled, and scared. But each time I woke up, I was comforted by the fact that Shingen was there with me, and I was able to take a deep breath and return to sleep.

At some point before dawn, I became conscious not of the pouring rain, but simply random patters as the wind blew water off the wet leaves. It had finally stopped raining. Hopefully that meant we would have an easier time fording the river.

Shingen muttered something about being hot.

That ego of his, I thought to myself… before realizing … he meant it literally. Even from where I was, I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

Quickly I sat and looked at him – his eyes were shut, and one hand was in a fist against his chest. I touched his face – he was burning up. He opened his eyes, and a facsimile of a smile touched the edges of his lips when he saw me. “Devil.”

He put his hand on top of mine. The light coming in from outside was grey, but bright enough that I could see the lines of pain across his forehead. “Headache?”

“I know I didn’t spend the night drinking,” he muttered.

“No. It seems you’ve gotten sick.” Really sick, if I was any judge, and the faster I could get him out of here, the better. I hurried to find my clothes but froze when he replied.

“I’m always sick.” He paused to let out a frighteningly deep cough. “It seems I’ve gotten worse.”

@bestbryn

#tbt12 lies #throwback thursday #ikemen sengoku #shingen takeda #ikesen shingen #twelve lies i told shingen takeda

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