#//The biggest ones being ‘how DARE they assume HE is the new head of the family now that Diluc’s gone’

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya and Rethel both have a favorite method to ward off any potential suitors, and it’s dueling.

[bookyeom]

pairing: mingyu x reader word count: 3k warnings: kissing, swearing, Mingyu being a simp

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. (Also, this fic in particular references the iconic 1987 film Some Kind of Wonderful, but I think I explained it well enough for someone who may not have seen it! However, if you haven’t seen it… Watch it. In my opinion, it tops all of those “must-see” movies like Sixteen Candles, etc. I adore this movie. The OG friends-to-lovers.)

nothin’ on you by b.o.b., bruno mars

they might say hi and i might say hey but you shouldn’t worry about what they say ’cause they’ve got nothing on you, babe

You groan as the doorbell rings, your eyes finding the time on your phone. You’d just settled in with your bunny pajamas and your rattiest, biggest, comfiest sweater, and you really don't want to move now. What you want is to disappear into the couch that you’d spent way too much money on, under your favourite blanket, and mindlessly scroll through social media videos of cats for hours while pretending you aren't perpetually single on the holiday of love. 

As much as you try to ignore it, the ringing only becomes more persistent, mixed with obnoxious, intermittent knocking. You groan again and stand up, making your way over to the door in annoyance. There are only a handful of people who would dare to be so irritating — Soonyoung if he wanted food, Chan if he wanted to show you a new dance routine, or… 

“Mingyu?”

“Hi,” he says brightly, and your brain short circuits. He looks as wonderful as always, black hoodie and sweats, eyes warm as he waits for you to reply like a normal human. 

You know that the right answer would be a greeting in response, but all you can think to say instead is, “It’s Valentine’s Day?” When Mingyu’s face falls a little bit, you hurry to explain yourself. “I mean… Do you not have plans?” 

Admittedly, that response isn’t much better, but you genuinely don't know the answer to your own question. You had just assumed that he did have plans — you hadn’t even considered the possibility of him being alone today, honestly. You hadn’t really wanted to think too much about it. It wasn’t like it’d be hard for funny, kind, Adonis-among-men Mingyu to find a date. All he had to do was smile at any man or woman in his general vicinity and they’d be under his spell. 

You know first hand what that feels like.

Your best friend showing up at your door on February 14th has replayed a thousand times in your brain. You’ve been head over heels in love with him for years now. The fantasy usually consists more of him in a tuxedo holding a huge bouquet of roses, proclaiming his love for you before kissing you passionately, but you can’t deny that you like this casual, tuxedo-less Mingyu just as much — if not more. He’s just… Mingyu. Soft and warm in that hoodie that you love, holding a box of your favourite pizza in one hand, a bag of who knows what else in the other.

“Do you not want me here?” He pouts, and you cave.

You sigh, but a smile makes its way to your face regardless. “Of course I do, Gyu. I just thought you had plans, that’s all.”

“I do,” he counters. “With you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words, ignore the soft smile he sends your way when you move aside to let him in. “Alright, then… Let’s be single as hell on Valentine’s Day, together.” 

Mingyu beams, stepping past you and into the apartment. 

“Movie?” He suggests as he slips off his shoes and immediately makes his way to the kitchen with the pizza. You hear the sound of cupboards opening and closing as he makes his way around with ease, like he knows where everything is like the back of his hand. Because he does. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest at the reminder of how well he fits into your life, how well he knows your apartment.

He knows you pretty well, too, which is actually a big part of the reason you’re so surprised that he’d shown up today. 

Because anyone who knows you knows that you’re in love with Kim Mingyu. Even new people who spend just five minutes with the two of you can tell, and you’re basically a pro at dismissing the couple questions by now. It seems the entire world can tell you’re head over heels except for the man himself, and you really don’t understand how he seems to have absolutely no clue. If he did, you don’t think he’d be so cruel as to suggest spending Valentine’s Day together. 

And yet here he is, moving around your house like it’s his house, too.

He has no idea, you remind yourself. He’s just alone on Valentine’s Day, and he likes spending time with you. That’s all.

You busy yourself setting up in the living room, making room on your side table for the pizza and whatever else he’d brought. You catch sight of yourself in the reflection of the TV and grimace. Theoretically, you’re both dressed casually, so you shouldn’t feel underdressed for this impromptu hangout. But in reality, Mingyu looks better than everyone else all the time, no matter what he’s wearing. He reappears a few moments later looking every bit the part of an athleisure model with the pizza box, a bottle of wine, and a box of your favourite chocolates in hand.

“A heart-shaped box of Lindt?” You can’t help but blurt out. It isn’t unlike Mingyu to bring your favourite snacks to movie night, but it’s Valentine’s Day, and the chocolates are in a heart-shaped box.

“It was on sale,” he shrugs in response, settling down on the couch, and you want so badly to question the peculiar choice further. You don’t.

You hand him the remote, grabbing the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor at your abrupt departure from the couch while he puts a movie on. He seems to know exactly what he’s looking for, which is interesting considering he’s one of the most indecisive people you’ve ever met.

“What are we watching?” You ask. “Action? Thriller?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, his other arm already outstretched for you to fall back against. You settle in next to him, pulling your knees up and draping the blanket over the both of you.

“I thought we could do something a bit different tonight,” he finally answers after a pause, and you look up at him in surprise. 

“Like what?”

He simply nods his chin towards the TV, where the opening scenes of the movie he’s chosen are beginning to play. You recognize the title immediately: Some Kind of Wonderful. 

Your heart leaps into your throat.

You’re not sure what to make of this. You’ve never seen the movie, but you know the premise of it: two best friends falling in love. This has to be a joke. You can’t help it as your entire body stiffens, and you tell yourself to relax. 

You can’t.

“Why?” You finally blurt out. Your chest feels tight. You don’t know if you’re reading far too much into it, but when have you ever watched a romance movie together? You’ve expressly made sure that you didn’t.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Mingyu replies. “Thought it would be nice.”

You’re looking at him again, eyebrows knit together in confusion. He finally acknowledges you with raised eyebrows of his own, meeting your eyes briefly before motioning to the TV with his chin.

“Can you just watch it? It’s a good movie, I promise. Give it a chance.”

You nod slowly, doing as he asks, but you can barely focus for the next hour. Everything has been so strange; the movie choice, the way he’d shown up with wine and chocolate — all of which could have been excused, maybe, if it wasn't for the fact that Mingyu is acting strange, too. He’s normally so pliant against you during movie nights, so clingy. But tonight, despite your closeness on the couch, all he does is rest his arm loosely around your shoulders. No fingers tracing your skin, no pulling you against his side, no getting distracted by your hair and attempting to make a shitty braid with it. No maneuvering his own body so that he’s the one with his head in your lap. It feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s waiting for something.

What in the world is going on?

It’s excruciating, but you try to focus. You’re almost there when the ending scene begins to play, but your whole body is still tense. You watch as the main characters, Keith and Watts, finally kiss in the middle of the street, and you think you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You swear Mingyu has tensed up beside you, but you don’t take your eyes off of the screen as Keith finally speaks his confession. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stupid,” comes the words from Watts, and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. This all feels a little too real. Why did he put this on? What the fuck is Mingyu playing at? 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” At Keith’s last words of dialogue from the screen, you feel Mingyu’s grip on your shoulder tighten. 

“You never asked,” Watts replies, teasing, and you can’t take it anymore. You turn to your best friend, eyes wide, and he slowly moves to turn off the TV.

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, and you can’t look away from him, frozen. You can’t utter a single word. He’s picking at a piece of thread on his sweatpants, eyes downcast as he avoids your gaze. 

It hits you like a brick, the reason why he’s being so strange. It’s because he’s nervous. 

There’s no way. 

A million thoughts race through your mind, a million reasons why going down this road could be a bad idea. But you have to ask — you have to know.

“Why didn’t you have plans tonight, Gyu?”

He meets your eyes again, and you can barely breathe. His gaze holds firm, intense, as he says, “Because I wanted to have plans with you.”

“On Valentine’s Day?” The insinuation of your words is clear, and you know that Mingyu understands exactly what you’re asking.

His eyes remain steady on yours as he replies, easily, “Yes.”

So simple. Certain. Sure. 

You remind yourself to breathe, gathering all the courage that’s left in you to speak again. “‘Why didn’t you tell me?’”

You watch Mingyu’s face as you repeat the words from the movie, your voice trembling just the slightest bit. He’s really looking at you now, a soft smile on his face at your words, and your heart leaps into your throat. He’s stunning. He’s always stunning, but the way he’s looking at you right now has you feeling like you’re walking on air. His gaze is so warm, and you don’t want to look away from him ever again.

“‘You never asked.’”

“Neither did you.” Your words are your own now, and Mingyu nods, using the arm around your shoulders to pull you in against his chest. You flush as he draws you towards him, and you briefly wonder if you’re dreaming.

“You’re right.” He gazes down at you fondly, and your hand lifts tentatively to his jaw. He nuzzles into your fingers, turning to gently kiss your palm, and your eyes don’t leave his mouth. His free hand lifts to rest on top of yours, before he softly runs his fingers down your arm and up to your shoulder, your neck, your face.  

“‘I knew you were stupid’,” you quote cheekily from the movie script again. Mingyu’s lips break into a wide smile as he lets out a surprised laugh, canines on full display as he beams. 

Then he’s using his whole body to pull you into him, silencing your own giggles with a kiss. 

Your breath is caught in pleasant surprise, and you can feel him smiling against your mouth. You’re impressed with how quickly you’re able to respond after your brain factory resets, the feeling of his lips on yours stunning you for only a moment before you react. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly and earning a pleased hum from him. His teeth gently sink into your lower lip in retaliation, and you can feel your entire body react to it. His hands find your hips, helping move you so that you’re in his lap. All you can feel is him as he pulls you in closer and closer, kissing you like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. He finally breaks away to kiss along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, before moving to slowly press one final kiss at the base of your throat, and you can feel goosebumps spread across your skin at the featherlight touch. 

“I love you,” he whispers softly, and you lower your chin to meet his eyes. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s broken out at his words, and you feel a bit like you’re soaring as he continues, “I’m in love with you. I really am, and I need you to know that.” His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, his fingers gently massaging the skin there, and your forehead falls to his. 

“Mingyu…”

He hums, and you pull back to look at him, your fingers moving to softly trace every part of his face. You’ve long since committed him to memory, but one more time can’t hurt. He waits for a moment before he lets out a whine, burying his face into your collarbone.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You let out a giggle. “Why?”

“Because I’m shy.”

You let out a snort, and Mingyu pulls away to pout up at you. Your fingers gently brush over his lips, his nose, his cheeks, and you can tell he wants to hide again, but he doesn’t.

“I love you too,” you say softly, and his pout is gone. “I have for a really long time now.”

He surges forward to press another kiss to your mouth, and you can’t help but gasp into it. You can tell he’s satisfied with himself as he smiles, pulling back just to say, “Guess we’re both stupid then, huh?” 

You laugh, and you can almost feel the happiness radiating off of him as his arms fold around your back, pulling you back in and resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, your head softly falling to rest atop his.

“Oh my god,” you hear him mumble after a few moments of silence. You hum in question, and he moves to look up at you again. “I’m so excited to date you,” he says, his face full of genuine joy. You can feel yourself flush crimson as he continues, “I’m going to date you so hard. You can’t stop me. I’m going to hold your hand all the damn time, you have no idea.” 

“I can’t fucking wait, boyfriend.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the fifth of our Thirteen Valentines just in time for the holiday/Carat Day! Who better to celebrate with than Kim Mingyu himself? Special shoutout and dedication to the best girl @tae-bebe, who fell victim to the Mingyu enemies-to-lovers trope irl :) xx

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, I’m sorry!)

[hermionegalathynius]

Hershey’s Kisses

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Angst, trauma, fluff at the end!

Summary: You know Remus loves you. It’s getting him to admit it that’s frustrating you. When your parents send you a bag of Hershey’s Kisses from America, you have an idea.

Prompt 1: "Are we really just friends?"

  Prompt 2: "I don't like it when you say things like that. To me, you're perfect.

  "Hey Rem!" Y/n exclaimed, a big smile on her face as she fell into step next to him. 

  Remus gave the girl a small smile but remained silent. 

  Y/n frowned in concern, e/c eyes scanning his face and taking note of the bags under his eyes and the new cut on his cheek. It wouldn't leave a scar, but regardless. It was obvious that last night had been a rough one. 

  "What did Pomfrey say?" She dared to ask as they walked across the grounds towards the Black Lake where the rest of the Marauders and Lily were already lounging. It was Friday and classes had just ended, so everyone was in a good mood. Except for Remus, apparently.

  He shrugged, "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just to go to her for a check up in a week to make sure none of the wounds become infected."

  Y/n's gut tightened at his words. There were more wounds? How bad were they? Where were they? Was he in pain now? She opened her mouth to ask the millions of questions running through her mind but Remus put a hand on her arm to cut her off.

  "I'm fine, Y/n. I promise," he murmured, looking her in the eye.

  She sighed but nodded reluctantly, "Yeah, okay. But tell me if anything goes wrong, okay? I can see how tired you are. Last night must've been rough."

  He gave another shrug, but she could see he was faking the care-free attitude. She knew him better than anyone. 

  "It was just another full moon."

  ———

  Y/n and Remus had been best friends their whole lives. She had known him before the incident and she had stuck by his side after. She was the person who knew him better than he knew himself and he was incredibly grateful to have her in his life. The two of them had been inseparable since birth and nothing had changed during their years at Hogwarts. However, the summer before their sixth year, Y/n's family had gone on holiday to America. She had been gone the entire summer and Remus missed her terribly. When they finally reunited on the Hogwarts train weeks later, he had had the biggest shock of his life. 

  Apparently, six weeks had been enough to change the way Remus saw Y/n. Or at least, he assumed so. Technically, there was no difference between the way she looked now to the way she looked before she went away, but to Remus, she was now the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He found himself struggling to concentrate when she was around, his eye always being drawn to her h/c hair and her s/c skin. If she came too close to him his brain short-circuited due to her scent enveloping him. 

  It was ridiculous, he told himself. He liked to consider himself a logical person and it simply wasn't logical to be falling for his best friend. For any other person it might have worked out, but Y/n had been dealing with his condition their whole lives. It wasn't fair of him to hope that one day they might be more than friends when she had already given him so much of herself. Not that he believed she would ever feel the same. Yet he told himself that even if she did, even if she confessed to him, he would break her heart rather than force her to deal with his shit. He knew she deserved so much better than him. That she could find a guy so much better than him, who didn't have his condition and who would be able to provide for her. Because if he knew one thing, it was that it didn't matter how high his grades were or how hard he studied, very few people would be willing to employ a werewolf. 

  ———

  It had been three years since Y/n had fallen for her best friend. Three years since she had turned her head one day in Charms to see him sitting next to her just as he had been her entire life. Just as he would be for the rest of it—hopefully. She'd realised in that moment that there was no other person who she could rely on as surely and as comfortably as Remus. There was no other person she could count on always being there when she was upset or hurt. No other person she would willingly give her life for, because a life without Remus Lupin was not one she wanted to live. 

  In that moment, she felt her heart swell with love and affection for the werewolf sitting next to her, so unaware of the life-changing revelation she was going through. She knew that there was a big possibility he didn't feel the same and never would, but that didn't matter to her. Even if she had to go on loving him from afar, she would deal with it. She couldn't — she wouldn't — live without him. It was non-negotiable. 

  Even all these years later she still felt the same. 

  Y/n wasn't an idiot. She knew her best friend inside out, so she was well aware of the moment when he fell for her. She could see it on his face. The shock at the adoration that hadn't been there before. The sudden need to be near her, talk to her, touch her. She knew the feeling all too well, so when Remus went through it she didn't miss it. 

  ———

  It happened about a year ago on the Hogwarts Express. Y/n had been running late and had barely jumped on the train when it started to move out of the station. the steam from the engine filled the air and the chugging sound of the wheels pounded in her ears. She leaned against the wall to catch her breath as she waved to her parents who were beaming at her from the crowd. Then the train turned the corner and they were gone. 

  Her head was suddenly filled with thoughts of Remus. She hadn't seen him since the end of the school year. That was six weeks ago. They had been sending letters back and forth from America, but the journey was long for their owls who needed to rest so the two of them hadn't gotten to talk much. She'd missed him terribly and couldn't wait to see him. He was probably wondering where she was since she hadn't gotten to meet him on the platform. That is if he was even thinking about her at all... 

  Y/n shook those thoughts out of her head and started making her way up the train, looking in each compartment to see if she could find the Marauders. It took a while, but eventually she peered in one about halfway along the train and saw the four familiar faces she had been looking for. James was talking excitedly about something — probably Lily — and Sirius was the only one who seemed to be listening. Peter was fast asleep under a pile of sweet wrappers and Remus... Remus was staring out the window. You couldn't see his face, but by his body language you knew he was worried. His shoulders were tense and his book lay untouched next to him on the seat. That was the real tell. You knew Remus only left a book like that if he was too anxious to concentrate on it. 

  Smiling excitedly, Y/n pushed the compartment door open and declared, "Missed me?"

  The boys all whipped their heads around to the sound of your voice. Even Peter woke up and blinked blearily at you. There was a moment of silence, but only a moment because then Remus was up and moving towards you, pulling you into a firm hug. The other boys were whooping excitedly, shouting your name. You giggled into Remus's shoulder and squeezed him back, impossibly giddy to be back in his arms. 

  "Of course I missed you, Y/nn," he murmured as he pulled away and your breath hitched. 

  There it was. The change in his eyes. The realisation of just how much he'd missed you. The shock at his new revelation. The surge of affection towards you, his best friend, who he hadn't seen in six weeks. You beamed up at him and suppressed the blush that threatened to take over your features at the intensity of the look he was giving you. 

  "I missed you too, Rem." 

  ———

  It had been a year since then. A year of waiting for him to bring it up. A year of wondering if she had just imagined it. A year of thinking she couldn't have imagined it if he was still looking at her like that. A whole. Bloody. Year.

  Y/n had started picking up on other emotions in his gaze after a while. Along with the affection and love in his eyes when he looked at her, she also saw pain and regret and sadness. So much sadness. It hurt her to think he was feeling this way but she didn't know how to help him. Whenever she tried to bring it up, he would change the subject or shrug it off as if she was just being silly. But she wasn't. She knew she wasn't and he knew it too, he was just too bloody stubborn. 

  By now, Y/n was so frustrated it wasn't even funny. That was why, when her parents sent her a bag of Hersey's chocolate kisses from their American Candy Stash, she had an idea.

  It was Monday afternoon after classes had ended. Y/n and Remus were having their usual study session in the Library. As usual, the whole week leading up to the full moon, Remus had been extra... obvious with his feelings towards her. She assumed it had something to do with his ancient, primal instincts starting to take over. He would glance at her more often and opt to be as near as possible to her side whenever there were other boys around. It was a little funny actually, but it also meant that he would soon be acting the way he was now. Tired, worn-out, distant. It broke her heart every time. Just last week he was sitting so close to her his knee was pressed against hers and now... now he sat a good ruler's length away from her. 

  Deciding now was as good a time as any, Y/n reached into her satchel and pulled out her bag of Hershey's Kisses. 

  "Moony?" She whispered gently, touching his shoulder. 

  He grunted in answer, making her chest pang but she ignored it.

  "Do you want a Kiss?" She asked.

  Her best friend shot upright in his seat, his eyes wide as he turned his head to look at her, a blush evident on his cheeks. She suppressed a giggle, keeping her innocent expression on her face. 

  "What?" He croaked, still not noticing the bag of chocolates in her hand. Even if he did, she doubted he would understand by himself. She hadn't told him about the American muggle sweet before. 

  "Do you want a Kiss?" She asked again.

  He blinked at her. Once. Twice. 

  She sighed and held up the bag, shaking it slightly, "A Hershey's Kiss Rem. Do you want a Hershey's Kiss?"

  The realisation dawned in his face and he sunk back against his chair, "Oh, that's what you... yes, yes please."

  Y/n gave a little chuckle and nudged him playfully, "What did you think I meant, Rem? Did you think I was offering you an actual kiss?"

  He blushed again and forced a laugh out of his mouth, "Yeah right."

  You watched in disappointed silence as he went back to his homework without another comment. This boy was just too stubborn. 

  That was it. You'd had enough. You knew he felt the same way. It was obvious. Yet he was still refusing to admit it!

  "Stop it," she said suddenly, before she could stop herself. 

  He looked up again, brown eyes confused, "Stop what?"

  She sighed in frustration and gestured to the space between them, "Stop this. This denial of your feelings. This refusal to do something about them. Do you have any idea how many signals I've given you, Remus John Lupin? How many opportunities you've had to finally act on your feelings? Don't think I don't know why you haven't taken the hint yet. Tell me, Rem. Are we really just friends?"

  He swallowed, his expression becoming closed off, "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Y/n glared at him and whispered furiously, "Stop lying to me! I know you better than anyone, Moony! Did you really think I wouldn't know if you had feelings for me?"

  He turned his gaze to the book in front of him, refusing to meet your stare, "It's a lot more complicate than that, Y/n. If you know me so well, you'll know that too."

  She rolled her eyes, "Oh don't give me that! I get it, okay? You think you're a burden on the people who care about you. You think they shouldn't have to deal with your shit. Well guess what, Rem? You're wrong. Very, very wrong. Because caring for you is a privilege, not a burden. Loving you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. How many times do we have to have this conversation before it sticks in that big brain of yours?"

  Remus clenched his fist around his quill and looked up at you, finally meeting your gaze, "An infinite amount of times, clearly, because you won't stop insisting on having it! Yes, alright? I love you. I'm in bloody love with you. But what I feel doesn't matter because I can never get married and have a family and do all that stuff that someone like you deserves. I'll be struggling from pay-check to pay-check for the rest of my life, so there is no way I will be able to give you the life you deserve. Merlin, Y/n, you have no idea how many times I've wanted to just screw the future and let myself fall for you, but I can't. Not when it's you're future on the line. You've given me so much of yourself, you shouldn't have to give more. You deserve someone who can love you freely without anything pulling the two of you down.  We graduate next year and while you'll be off becoming an Auror, I'll be searching the newspapers for someone who won't have qualms with employing someone like me."

  Y/n was crying, tears streaming down her face as she saw all of her best friend's pain laid before her. All his self-hatred. 

  "I don't care about all that," she whispered, because they were still in a Library, " I hate it. I absolutely hate it when you say things like that. To me you are perfect. Don't you understand that? I've thought about our future too, you know? And every time I do, I'm not bothered by the fact that we might not be able to have kids or that you'll turn into a bloody werewolf every full moon because I'm too busy being happy that you'll be next to me. We'll be together for the rest of our lives. That's all I bloody care about, Remus, don't you understand?"

  He just shook his head, and forced himself to look away from her tear-filled eyes, "Y/n I... I can't do this. I thought I could deal with my feelings while still being your friend but now... I have to go."

  Y/n's heart stopped. Devastation filled her stomach and started rising to her chest. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant. Could he?

  But he did.

  Y/n watched in shocked, mourning silence as her best friend — the only one she'd known would never, ever walk away from her — packed up his things and walked out of her life. 

  ———

  The following days and weeks blurred together. Y/n was broken. It felt like she was constantly crying, her heart the heaviest it had ever been in her entire life. She cried herself to sleep every night, and then cried herself awake after dreaming about Remus. She barely ate and when she did it was tiny morsels of food. The only thing that kept her going was her studies. She knew that she would forever regret it if her end of year grade was frightfully low because she had let a boy distract her. But he wasn't just any boy, was he? He was her best friend. Well, he used to be her best friend.

  Y/n's dorm mates didn't know what to do. Lily, one of her good friends, watched her fight back tears when she accidentally stumbled across a picture of her and Remus from when they were seven. She watched as Y/n grew thinner and thinner from barely eating and sleeping. She watched her friend waste away for two weeks before she snapped. 

  "That's it," she muttered to James one day when she walked down into the common room after trying to coax Y/n into eating, but to no avail. 

  Her boyfriend's eyes widened, "She's still not eating?" 

  Lily nodded, "It's gone on long enough. I'm going to go talk to Remus. He needs to understand how distraught he's made her."

  James looked weary, "Lils, do we really want to get involved in their business?"

  Lily glared at him, "You might not have seen her James, but you've seen him. Do you really believe it's not worth is getting involved? How is Remus, James? Happy? Content?" She snapped, sarcasm practically dripping from her tone.

  James sighed and shook his head, "You're right, as always. I've never seen Moony like this. He barely talks and when he does it's one word answers. He hasn't so much as touched a book in two weeks. He doesn't answer the questions in classes, he never joins in our conversations in the dorms even though he used to always have an opinion. He's a broken man, Lil. He needs Y/n."

  Lily nodded, "Good. He should feel that way. I'm going to go talk to him."

  ———

  Remus was sitting under the tree he and Y/n used to study under when the weather was nice. Tears rolled down his cheek as his fingers fiddled with the hair elastic Y/n had left in his room when they were nine. It was purple and stretched out from years of Remus fidgeting with it when he was nervous. Now it was damp with his tears as they dripped into his hand. 

  He missed her. He missed her so damn much it was excruciatingly painful. Everywhere he looked he was reminded of her. He couldn't even read a book without wondering if she would enjoy it. But he had to stay strong. He had to resist the urge to go find her and beg for her forgiveness. He was doing this for her, after all. Even if she ended up hating him for it, she would be better off. 

  "Remus John Lupin!" 

  He whipped around to see Lily storming towards him across the field. She looked livid. 

  He sighed. He'd expected something like this to happen. Drying his tears he stood up and prepared himself for her reprimanding.

  "You have to go fix this," she said, pointing towards the castle. 

  Remus shook his head, sadness threatening to take over again, "You know I can't."

  She shook her head, "Bullsh*t! We all know your reasons Remus, and as much as we sympathise with you, Y/n is up there is that Tower crying her eyes out and you're the only one who can help her."

  Remus looked down at the grass a muttered, "She'll be okay. Eventually she'll learn to hate me and it won't hurt as much anymore."

  Lily gave a dry chuckle, "You really have no idea how much she loves you, do you? She hasn't eaten in days, Remus. Days! And the last time she did she got through a total of two grapes before she started crying again. She hasn't stopped studying which, although admirable, isn't healthy when going through something like this. She barely sleeps, and when she does she wakes up crying because she dreamt of you. You, Moony. You were her best friend. She once told me you were the only person she would gladly and without hesitation give her life for. And you love her. Who bloody cares about your condition and what it may or may not mean for your future. What matters is that you love her and she loves you and right now she's up there wasting away because you shut her out of your life. So my question is, Remus: What are you going to do about it?"

  Remus's head spun. He'd known she was going to be upset for a few days after he cut ties with her, but it had been two weeks. And yes, Remus was also still upset but deep down he had never really believed anyone could love a monster like him as much as he loved Y/n. From what Lily told him, she was a wreck. All because of him... 

  She wasn't eating. The girl he'd seen gobble down a burger, a huge portion of fries and a double-chocolate and hazelnut sundae, wasn't eating. Remus was suddenly filled with a huge amount of dread and regret. He'd done the wrong thing. He had to talk to her. Make things right.

  "Okay," he said to Lily, "Let's go."

  They ran across the grounds and into the castle, sprinting through the halls and up seven flights of stairs to get to Gryffindor Tower. 

  Lily lead him up to the girls' dorms and stopped at one of the doors. 

  "She's alone in there," she told Remus, "Goodluck."

  Remus nodded and, swallowing, opened the door. 

  The girl sitting on the bed across the room was the ghost of his best friend. Eyes red from crying, hair limp, cheeks pale. Yet she was still the most beautiful being Remus had ever seen. However, the detail that sent a pang of regret through Remus's very core was just how thin she was. 

  "Y/n," he murmured, tears springing to his eyes.

  Her chin jerked up and her eyes met his. Immediately three fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. 

  "Remus," she breathed, voice trembling, "What are... what are you doing here."

  Remus started crying then. Making his way over to the side of her bed he fell to his knees and took one of her small hands between two of his and pressed his forehead to it, shaking with sobs. 

  "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm so, so sorry."

  She just stared at him, not sure what to say or how to react. For all she knew this could be a dream. 

  "I was an idiot," he whispered, looking up at her with his brown, tear-stained eyes, "I was a huge, bloody idiot for even thinking for one second that shutting you out was what was best for you."

  She nodded slowly, tears still falling down her cheeks, as if her eyes were leaking. 

  "Damn right, you were," she murmured, managing a small smile. It was the first smile she'd made since that day two weeks ago.

  He looked up at her with his big, brown, pleading eyes, "I know this is all my fault. I know I'm to blame. I just want to ask for your forgiveness, nothing else. I don't... I don't expect you to still feel the same way, or be ready to feel the same way."

  Y/n slowly got up out of bed, pulling Remus up with her until she was hugging him. He squeezed her back tightly, burying his face in her shoulder and letting out another sob. She did the same, still struggling to believe it was Remus's arms around her, hugging her, keeping her safe again. 

  "All I want is for you to promise me you'll never leave me again," she whispered when she pulled away slightly to peer into his face. 

  He nodded firmly, cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears, "I promise. I promise I'll never leave your side for as long as we live."

  She smiled at him properly then, and it was like the answer to the question he has been asking his whole life. 

  The kiss she pulled him into was sweet and sad at the same time, both of them still crying out of joy and sadness. They pulled each other as close as they could get, not wanting to ever let go ever again. 

  And yes, there would be hardships ahead if them. There would be money issues and furry little problems to deal with. But they would get through them, because they had each other, just as they always had and always would for the rest of their lives.

Tag List

Note: this tag list is also my Sirius tag list. If anyone would not like to be on it, please tell me and I’ll remove you ;)

@obscurilicious

@hphufflefan

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Chapter One

Author’s Note: Hey, put this together very intentionally because it's far more likely I might not have an update for the next couple weeks in a row.  Three weeks at the worst, but I'm not sure how I'll be doing, I've got finals and then some traveling coming.  So enjoy this while you can, I can't promise when exactly I'll update next!

Also, note though, this isn't a hiatus, this is a "I edit these chapters on Saturdays and post them on Sundays, and my next couple Saturdays will be very busy."  Worst case scenario, you'll get a new chapter before the end of May.  Thank you all for your patience with my wildly shifting schedule.

Chapter Thirty-One:

Janus was being insufferable again.  Virgil doubted he’d ever have enough time to truly sort through his feelings in regards to him, but Janus definitely wasn’t helping by watching him and Remus like a hawk every time they were in a video, or talking to Thomas, or doing anything where he was present.  It made it difficult to share his concerns with Thomas when Janus was glaring at him every other sentence.

He did his best to avoid him if he could, but that wasn’t always possible, meaning sometimes he walked into a room and Janus was there, or Janus walked into a room where he already was, and there wasn’t much either of them could do about it.

Virgil kind of wished there was this morning, though.

Yesterday had been bad for him and Remus both, and when Virgil had woken up in the middle of the night and Remus hadn’t, they’d assumed he’d sent a nightmare to Roman again, meaning last night probably hadn’t been fun for him either.

Remus, though he didn’t say it, was clearly upset and frustrated that he didn’t know how to stop sending Roman nightmares.  He vanished into The Imagination instead of talking about it, which in turn bothered Virgil, because what had happened to doing this together?

Then he’d made his way down to the kitchen, shoved some food in his mouth, and sat on the couch in his living room to listen to music and ignore the rest of the world.

And that, naturally, was when Janus showed up.

The glaring started pretty quickly, and Virgil realized not long after that he was not in the place to deal with it today.  So, he turned up his music as much as he dared and tried to block Janus out.

But that plan was kind of ruined when Janus walked over to him and stood above him, clearly ready to wait until Virgil acknowledged him.

Virgil pulled his headphones down around his neck and looked up at Janus in exhaustion.  “Can we not today, Janus?  Please?”

“Thomas is doing worse, we need to talk about it,” Janus said.

“Well maybe I feel like shit too,” Virgil said, moving to pull his headphones back up.

“Hey,” Janus snapped, grabbing them and dragging them down again.  “I want you to stop taking it out on him.”

“Oh sure, I’ll just do that,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “Except, oh wait, the last time I stopped affecting Thomas you all weren’t the biggest fans of that.”

“There is a middle ground between ducking out and making Thomas a giant mess, Virgil.”

Not when things were this bad.

Virgil sighed, trying to make it sound irritated, but not really succeeding.  He looked up at Janus for a second.  There were dark circles under his eyes that were almost successfully covered with makeup, and his shoulders were slumped almost imperceptibly.

Virgil sighed, and leaned back against the couch with a thud.  “I’ll see what I can do,” he muttered.

“See that you do,” Janus said coolly, and he stalked off towards the kitchen.

Virgil sighed and rubbed at his eyes.  He took a deep breath, and pulled the anxiety swirling around his chest into a tight ball.  Then he buried his head in his knees and took a couple deep breaths.

Keeping his anxiety inside like this might make Thomas’ day better, but it sure wasn’t going to do the same for Virgil.  He couldn’t blame Janus for wanting a break, though.

Before long, the other sides began to make appearances, and Virgil sank back out to Remus’ room to get away from them and see if Remus was back from The Imagination yet.

He wasn’t really surprised that he wasn’t.  At least when Virgil checked, the way wasn’t blocked.

When he appeared with Remus it didn’t exactly make him feel better, though.

“Hey, Re,” Virgil said, shoving the tight ball of anxiety in his chest further down and walking past the large torture scene Remus had conjured up.  “You doing okay there?”

“I’m having some feelings, and I don’t like them,” Remus said from where he was watching with his head firmly pressed against his knees.  “So I’m going to watch Malice beat them out of me.”

Virgil winced.  “Okay.  Do you maybe want to talk about it instead?”

“No.”

Virgil gave him a worried look but didn’t say anything, and sat down after turning away from the torture scene.  He made sure he could still see Remus, and leaned his head against his shoulder to show what support he could.

“D’you need to talk?” Remus asked.

“I’m just anxious,” Virgil said.  “Trying to give everyone an easy day.”

Remus turned to give him a worried look of his own.  “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Virgil nodded.  “I know.”

Remus turned and looked back out at imaginary Malice again.  “I don’t understand my feelings, Vee.  Can’t they ever make sense?”

“I don’t think feelings work that way,” Virgil said.

“Why did none of them ever check on us?” Remus asked, burying his head in his knees.  “Didn’t they care at all?”

Virgil didn’t know what to say to that, so instead he wrapped his arms around Remus from the front and pulled him gently to his side.

“I mean what did we do?” Remus asked, wrapping his own arm around Virgil.  “Do they actually just hate us that much?”

“They didn’t know what was going on, Re,” Virgil murmured.

“Because they never bothered to look.”

“Well… yeah.”

“I hate them.”

Virgil glanced over.  “Re…”

“No, I do.  I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because they…” Virgil started, and trailed off as he realized he didn’t know how to explain either.

“Aren’t you angry?”

Virgil nodded.  “Yeah,” he said.  “But I can be angry and also not hate them.”

Remus scoffed and glared away.

“I think,” Virgil said slowly.  “That Logan and Roman have started to put something together.”

Remus went still.

“And as soon as they did they offered to talk about it.  Well, in their own ways.”

“You trying to say Logan made a stupid hypothetical statement and Roman acted like a jerk again?”

Virgil laughed a little despite himself.  “That’s part of the package, Re.  It’s who they are.  They were both trying to help.  Besides,” Virgil swallowed as he thought of Patton.  “I can’t blame them for being a little mad when I hurt all of them on purpose.”

“You only did that because Janus was being a terrible person again,” Remus snapped.

Virgil winced.  “Remus, he—”

“You’re saying I’m wrong?”

Virgil was quiet for another minute.  “Janus is really bad at caring sometimes,” he said quietly.  “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t.”

“And that’s my problem?”

Virgil glanced over.  “Of course not.”

“I’m supposed to forgive him because of his intentions?”

“Re,” Virgil said, his eyes widening.  “Of course not.  I’m not asking you to forgive him.”

“It’s just not okay to hate him?  Or any of them?”

Virgil paused and absorbed that for a second.  Eventually, he shook his head.  “No, you can hate them Remus,” he said quietly.  “As long as you’re okay with the fact that I don’t.”

“Even Janus?”

Virgil pressed a hand to his chest.  “Janus is scared.”

Remus was quiet for a long moment.  Finally, he sighed.

“Okay,” he said.  “I respect your decision.”

“I respect yours too,” Virgil said, leaning against Remus’ side.  “I love you, Re.”

Remus leaned back.  “I love you too.”

Remus waved his hand and sent the images of him and Malice away, and Virgil turned around.

…

The anxiety in Virgil’s chest didn’t go away the next day either.  Instead, keeping it all tucked inside like that seemed to have increased it, which tended to be how it worked.

But it had been a long week and everyone was tired, so Virgil resigned himself to a day of sitting in his room and trying to breathe.

Remus didn’t seem to like that, and spent most of the morning trying to glare him into submission.  When he finally accepted it wasn’t working, he huffed loudly in annoyance and decided to camp out in Virgil’s room to help.  As a result, they both spent most of the day there doing grounding exercises and watching TV shows as an attempted distraction.

Virgil hoped the bad nightmare he got that night meant the anxiety was out of his system, especially when he woke up feeling better the next day.  He kind of doubted it though.  It would be back, and no doubt worse than before.  And he didn’t want to try and shove it inside again.  That could cause problems.

Virgil groaned as he sat up, and Remus shifted quickly awake next to him.

“Morning,” Virgil grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Good morning.  I’m making you breakfast,” Remus said.

“What?  Why?”

“Because you’re going to take it easy so your inevitable crash isn’t as bad.  I’ll make you scrambled eggs, and I’m not going to add anything weird to them.  Just come sit down at the table and relax whenever you’re ready.”

“You don’t have to do that, Re.”

“I don’t have to do shit, and you can’t make me.  I’m doing it anyway.”

Virgil laughed a little.  “Okay.”

“Good.  See you in a bit.”

Remus sank out, and Virgil laid back in bed for a minute to allow himself to wake up more slowly.

After a half hour or so of scrolling through tumblr, he finally pushed himself into a sitting position and climbed out of bed to get dressed.

Because he was taking it easy, though, he didn’t sink out to the kitchen, and instead headed out of his room, stretching as he did.  He made his way towards the stairs and smiled a little to himself as he heard Remus’ loud singing from the kitchen as he got closer.

Once he got to the bottom of the steps and before he made it to the kitchen, though, he spotted Janus and Roman talking quietly in the living room.

“I’ll just have to go fix it myself,” Janus grumbled.  “Like always.”

“Hey,” Roman said, but stopped a second later as he noticed Virgil.

Janus glanced up a second later, and then his gaze turned so furious it actually took Virgil aback for a second.

He gave Janus a look, trying to convey ‘what the fuck is your problem?’ without opening his mouth, and headed into the kitchen, where Remus had finished Virgil’s eggs and was now making his own, adding edible glitter and cream cheese frosting.

“Here you go,” Remus said, turning to take a break and handing Virgil his eggs.  “They’ve been kept magically warm.  You’re welcome.”

Virgil smiled as he took them.  “Thanks, Re.”

Remus smiled back at him and went back to slathering cream cheese icing into a frying pan.

Virgil sat down at the table and let out a relaxed sigh.  He’d admit, this was actually an alright way to start the morning.

Eventually, Roman showed up in the kitchen, and Virgil braced himself for snapping and attempts to kick them out, but surprisingly Roman just moved quietly over to the freezer and pulled out some frozen waffles.

Virgil gave him a confused look, but turned back to his eggs after a second.  He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It wasn’t long after that when Remus dropped his plate of eggs on the table and splatted the cream cheese icing on the table around it.  Virgil just managed to cover his eggs in time, but glared at Remus anyway.  “I hate you.”

Remus gave a loud overdramatic gasp and pressed his hand to his chest.  “Virgil!  How dare you!  I am wounded!”

“I believe the rule was that you could add all the cream cheese frosting on your eggs that you want as long as it stays off of mine.”

“That was a rule?” Remus said, wobbling his lip and giving Virgil puppy dog eyes.

“I’m immune to those,” Virgil said, taking another bite.

“You heartless monster.”

“Why thank you,” Virgil said with a grin.

Remus stuck out his tongue before turning back to his eggs.  “It’s cheese,” he said.  “People like cheese on eggs.”

“Cream cheese frosting is absolutely not the same thing,” Virgil said, making note of Roman walking to the couch with his food out of the corner of his eye.  “And I can’t know for sure that’s all that is.  You’re still a menace.”

“Why thank you,” Remus said with his own grin.

Virgil finished his breakfast before Remus, but not that long before since Remus liked to inhale his food.  Virgil had just put his own dishes away when Remus started on his, so Virgil leaned next to him on the counter to wait for him.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice down so Roman couldn’t hear from the living room.  “Do you want to try some brainstorming today?”

Remus sighed, but seemed to give it a moment of thought.

He turned to Virgil after a second.  “No.  I wanna make something for me.”

Virgil smiled warmly at him.  “I think that’s a good idea, Re.”

“Yeah.  And then I wanna make something for you.”

Virgil blinked.  “Me?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t elaborate, as apparently he’d decided that didn’t need explanation.

Eventually, Virgil just nodded.  “Okay,” he murmured.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t seen it,” Remus said with a grin.

“Oh Thomas, what are you going to do?”

“That would ruin the surprise!”

“I’m going to regret this.”

“Most definitely,” Remus agreed.

Virgil was about to say something else when, very suddenly, Thomas’ anxiety spiked.

“The hell?” Virgil said, looking around.  “I didn’t do anything.”

“What?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know, Thomas’ anxiety just… I’m gonna go check on him,” Virgil said.

“Not alone you’re not,” Roman snapped suddenly, causing Virgil to jump and glance over.

Virgil groaned.  “God, fine, just come on,” he said.

“Want me to come?” Remus asked.

“No, I don’t want you to accidentally make it worse,” Virgil said, before wincing.  “Sorry.”

“None taken.  I can do that.  Meet me back in my room so we can head to The Imagination?”

“Okay.”

Virgil sank out, and Roman followed him.  A second later Virgil appeared and Roman rose up.

“Thomas?” Virgil asked, and Thomas glanced up as he stepped forward towards the couch.  “Are you okay?”

Thomas blinked at him for a second.  “Wouldn’t you know?”

The anxiety in the air suddenly spiked again, and Virgil gasped in surprise, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Well, I’m not doing that,” he said, rubbing it.

“What do you mean you’re not doing it?  Aren’t you my Anxiety?”

“Yeah, we’ve actually had that figured that out,” Virgil muttered, looking around.  “But no, that’s not me.  Can you sense everyone else?  Are they okay?”

“Uh,” Thomas said, looking up as he thought.  “Well, you and Roman are right here, and I’m not really getting anything from Remus right now, other than… cream cheese frosting on scrambled eggs?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.  Go on?”

“I think Patton’s okay, and Logan’s not setting off any alarms… hang on, I’ll just—”

He pulled his hand up, and Logan and Patton both rose up in their original spots.  They both looked a little surprised, but otherwise normal.

“Okay,” Virgil said, looking back at Thomas.  “Where’s Janus?”

But Thomas was looking towards the steps in confusion.  “I summoned Janus,” he said.  He did the same motion again, and again nothing happened.

Then the next second, the anxiety spiked again, and this time everyone seemed to feel it.

Virgil turned to look at Roman.  “Well Princey, you were with Janus last, where is he?”

“What— he had to go clean up the mess you and Remus made with the barrier,” Roman said, looking unsure.

Virgil’s heart dropped into his stomach.  “Something’s wrong with the barrier?”

There was another anxiety spike.

“Are you telling me,” Virgil said, walking forward and grabbing Roman by the shoulders.  “That Janus went into the subconscious, alone, when Remus and I weren’t there?”

“He—” Roman said weakly.  “He can go where he wants Anxiety, you’re not in charge of him—”

“Shut up!” Virgil screamed, and sank out to the commons.  He looked over at Janus’ door, and found it flickering in and out of existence.  The barrier on the door to the other commons was flickering in the same way.

“REMUS!” he screamed, and Remus opened his door in less than a second, sprinting out to meet him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Janus went to the subconscious,” Virgil said, starting over for the door to the other commons.

“Janus did what?”

“That’s why Thomas is freaking out, because something’s wrong,” Virgil said, summoning his scythe.  “I have to go after him.”

“What?” Remus exclaimed.  “No, you don’t, Virgil.”

“Re,” Virgil said, looking towards Janus’ flickering door in the distance.  “They’re going to hurt him.”

“So fucking what?  Let him learn what it feels like!”

“Remus,” Virgil said, squeezing his eyes shut.  “I can’t.”

He didn’t know how to explain the swirl of emotions between his panic about the others, his worry about Thomas, and somehow, most prominently, the heart-pounding nerves that came with the idea that Janus was going to be hurt.

But he also really didn’t have time to try and explain, so instead he looked at Remus and hoped his eyes could convey all of the emotions his words couldn’t.

Something seemed to get across, because Remus bit his lip.  “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered.  “But I can’t stop you, can I?”

“No,” Virgil said.  He took a breath, knowing the reaction he was about to get with this next part.  “And you have to stay here, Remus.”

Remus stared at him.  “What?  Fuck no.  Are you insane?”

“Remus they have Janus,” Virgil said.  “If they kill him, the barrier goes down.  And the core sides are going to need someone here who knows what’s about to happen.”

“I don’t care what happens to them!”

Virgil bit his lip.  “Well, I do.”

Remus scowled.  “Who said you could play dirty?”

“That’s not playing dirty.  You want me to play dirty?  If they have to go through what we’ve gone through, all of the ways we’ve negatively affected Thomas get a million times worse.  You want to hurt Thomas?”

Remus gave him a death glare, and Virgil gave him a firm serious look back.

Finally, Remus growled and clenched his fists.  “If you’re not back in an hour I’m coming after you.”

“Fine.”

Virgil picked up his scythe and started for the doorway to the other commons, with the flickering barrier from Janus still in place, at least for now.

And if Virgil had anything to say about it, it would stay that way.

...

Chapter Thirty-Two

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

vardy au - could you do a one shot about people in broadchurch noticing alec being just a lil bit supernatural but brushing it off as him being weird and scottish?

He thinks he's good at hiding his true nature, but nope!

Again, he's bad at being a vampire.

On with the fic!

--

Alec Hardy has been a bit of a mystery since he arrived to Broadchurch for the Latimer case. Even with the whole 'worst cop in Britain' thing, he confused people, and started rumors.

Why was he so pale? A lot of people assumed it was due to him never really going outside, except for cases. It became a bit of a joke that people assumed if he dared to go outside on a bright, sunny day, he'd burn in seconds.

Some whispers around town talked about how frail he was, like he was going to fall over with a gentle breeze. But others talked about how they had seen him weirdly being strong, someone at the station saw him shove a whole desk aside once because an item of evidence was stuck under it. And it was one that would need several people to move it a few inches with effort.

A lot of people in town didn't believe that nonsense, though some of the people at the station had witnessed it. People thought it was just a joke at Hardy's expense.

Someone started some rumors about his eye color changing when he was mad. Like they turned red or something, but that seemed dumb. People don't have eyes that go from brown to red!

But what about that thing where someone at the station swears on their life that they saw Hardy with fangs once!

Or at least it seemed like it, when he was yelling at them for fucking up, seemed pretty scary. They even swore he seemed to have a sort of monster-y scowl, but, again, probably just thinking about how much of a threat he could be.

Mark Latimer said that he thought he saw the monster face too, during the whole case with his son, but he doesn't like to think about that time.

One of the biggest bits of gossip about the DI was about his eating habits. It was rare, very, very rare to see him eat. People asked Ellie Miller about it, since she knew him better than anyone else. She said it has to do with his health, he has a very limited diet and if he eats certain things they make him sick.

What about the medications people have seen him take?

Oh, those pills? For his heart, don't ask him about it. If you try, he will make your life a living hell. And if you see him sprinkle this weird, red flaky stuff on the food he does eat, it's a medical thing, don't question him.

There was, for a short period of time, at Chloe Latimer's school that Alec Hardy was actually a vampire. Kids joked about it because they said it was the only way to explain how weird he was, but then it stopped being funny because... well... he'd make for a very boring vampire.

Miller is not a great source on confirming these silly whispers and rumors. Whenever anyone jokingly asked her about them, she'd tell them that it was stupid, he's just a grumpy, old detective who doesn't know what fun is.

And that he also is aware that people are talking behind his back and he is not happy.

(Actually, he didn't know everything, he just knew that some people talked shit about him. It took a while for him to finally learn that people called him 'shit head', so he wasn't aware yet that kids thought he was a vampire. Or that most people thought he was weird.)

When some people approached him and tried to small talk these things with him, he'd just sigh and give them looks that said for them to shut up.

After him being there for over two years, people just decided that he was weird in general. Besides, there was now a new man in town to start rumors about, the strange man from Romania that Hardy seemed obsessed with for his latest case.

There was a new bit of gossip there to talk about.

[slushie5544]

Intro to The Fall of a Star

Hi there so I've been working on this fic and it's sort of a sequel to "A Star is Born" which technically you don't have to read to understand this fic as most parts will be explained throughout the story! I'm actually a lot more proud of this than the previous fic! This is actually half of one chapter so in a way this is a teaser!

Words: 2,512

Characters: Dj Grooves, the Conductor, and mentions of snatcher!

Summary: After losing for so many years to the Conductor, DJ Grooves vows to make the greatest movie yet! However when he hits a terrible writer’s block the penguin he’s ready to give up until something quite literally hits him.

No one ever said writing stories was an easy task, let alone trying to write a story that could be the next big blockbuster hit! However, that never deterred DJ Astro, Grooves; ever since he was just a chick he had ideas and dreams that would spiral through his mind, just waiting to be shared with the world. Sure it had taken him many obstacles and challenges to finally get where he was, but he tried to see them as just stepping stones to his success! He was nearly thirty years old when he was given ownership of his own movie studio, well it was more or less half ownership. Nonetheless, despite the countless headaches and arguments with his neighboring director, Grooves counted it as one of the biggest achievements in his life. He finally was able to show the world what he was capable of!

Unfortunately for the director, the masses seemingly weren’t quite ready for the big new ideas he had. Every year he would go against his opponent, the Conductor and every year he would win with his old fashion train western movies. It wasn’t fair, Grooves tried so hard for years to bring something new to the table, but it never worked. That was, up until a couple of years ago.

~~

Tensions were high throughout the movie studio, everyone was either glued to their phone screens or surrounding the breakroom televisions. Nothing was getting done and it was all for good reason. For the first time in Dead Bird History the scores between the two rivals: DJ Grooves and the Conductor, were neck to neck! With the Conductor only being just a mere couple of votes behind it was an extremely close call for both parties, however, both parties took the news differently.

Moon penguins were dancing about and snapping their fins excitedly, their boss DJ Grooves was ecstatic, he had never felt so close to winning in his life. However, as for their neighbors across the studio, it was a different story. While it was expected for the Conductor to be a sore loser, he expected the other director to explode, or at least let out shouts. Instead, he was seemingly closed off to anything and everyone around him. His ears were flattened to his head; even the feathers around his neck that were normally so free were also close to his body. No one had ever seen the director so reserved before and it terrified the owls even more than usual. At least when he was screaming it was predictable what was going to happen. This almost felt like walking near a ticking time bomb that didn’t have a set detonation. No one even dared to go near the owlish creature. That was until

That was until Grooves finally decided to break the ice and possibly talk to the other. Though he had to admit, he wasn’t sure how to approach the brooding director. They did eventually bump into each other in the lobby, but it didn’t go quite as he thought it would.

The Conductor was hastily leaving his studio with his coat thrown over one of his shoulders and hat being pressed down over his head. He shouted something to the receptionist which caught Grooves and the other penguins off guard.

“AYE! I’m taking my leave early!”

The DJ penguin was quick to get in front of the creature who abruptly stopped in his tracks, but he let out what Grooves could only assume was a curse in another language as he shoved past him. His clawed hands were gripping the jacket and hat tightly and Grooves swore he could see the other trembling slightly. Was the Conductor really this prideful over a win? He never lost before and now that he was so close he just had to run away from it? Maybe something else came up! No, the timing was too perfect! Grabbing the other by the back of his white shirt Grooves pulled the Conductor back.

“And where do you think you are going, darling?”

“...”

No response at all from the Conductor, that was definitely a first. He didn’t let go though. Instead, he tried to ask again this time with a bit more concern.

“Conductor? Is everything alright?”

“..”

Though he once again didn’t speak the director’s shoulders raised to his neck as he attempted to keep his head low. A slight tremble came from the other’s body and this only solidified the worry in Groove’s mind.

“Is this really over the Dead Bird Award? It’s not the end of the world you know-”

“You have five seconds to get your flipper off of me, DJ Grooves.”

The penguin complied, taking his wing away and holding it behind his back. The Conductor continued to storm off but stopped as the sliding doors opened.

“If you get in my way again, I’ll ruin your career.”

Grooves took a step back and watched as the other director jumped into his train and left without even announcing his departure. Most of the Express Owls had to either find other modes of getting back home or simply stayed at the studio till the next morning.

By the last day of filming, it had been three days since the clash with the Conductor, and Grooves hadn’t seen or heard from him in those few days. It was starting to worry the penguin. However, that concern didn’t last long when he woke up that morning and checked his phone to see numerous messages and notifications about checking the final scores. His heart jumped a beat upon searching for the scores, with the Conductor having been gone for so long surely he had to be disqualified or at least he forfeited but his body went cold and his heart dropped upon seeing the scores:

CONDUCTOR: 1,439    DJ GROOVES: 1,419

He had made the mistake of clicking a link that was associated with a search and it was a video of the Conductor receiving his award laughing.

“That DJ Grooves couldn’t have made an award-winning movie even if he tried! His movies are nothing but loud, incoherent drive! And another thi-”

Grooves turned off his phone and tossed it to the side, he couldn’t let the Conductor get away with this! He had to have cheated! There was no way he could prove it, but those words from their last interaction replayed in his mind.

“I will ruin your carreer.”

He wasn’t going to let go! If stopping the Conductor meant he needed to buckle down and truly make the greatest movie out there, then so be it! He promised to not stop movie-making until he finally stopped the reign of the Conductor!

~~

There was only one small, tiny problem though. DJ Grooves had nothing, his mind blanked completely whenever he tried to type something. It was almost as if when an idea came to him and he started to type it, the idea left him just as quickly, as he tried listening to his favorite music, watching previous movies he had made, as a last ditch effort the penguin had almost watched one of the Conductor’s boring mystery movie. Almost. He would rather lose everything than give that owl a single ounce of his attention like that! Then again he wasn't far off from losing everything if he didn't make a movie!

With a sigh, the penguin rested his chin on his wing staring at the blank screen before him. The cursor blinked repeatedly, mocking him for not being able to start even a single sentence. For so long he was able to spew words onto his screen with ease, he never truly had to think about what he had to write. It was almost second nature for him to come up with new ideas for his movies! So why is it now, he can’t think of a single good idea!?

The clock that hung against the wall behind him ticked annoyingly reminding him of every second he wasted just sitting there. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking down at the corner of his laptop to see the time, it was a quarter after eleven. Two whole hours of doing nothing. A groan erupted from the director’s beak as he closed his laptop then pushed himself away from his wooden desk and stood up, sliding on a pair of slippers.

Taking off his tinted star glasses, Grooves rubbed his sensitive eyes feeling a tense headache starting. He desperately needed a break, maybe some fresh air would help him clear his mind! He let out a yawn as he stretched back slightly while raising his arms behind his head. His luxurious Afro had been put in a light bun as he had planned to go to bed after he wrote, but  instead, now he was wandering the halls of his part of the studio. Everyone had gone home hours ago, even the hardheaded Conductor saying he had some ‘preparations’ he needed to do for his next movie.

That left the moon penguin in the empty building by himself, the fluorescent lights dimly lit hallways to which he looked at some of the yellow stars that were painted on some of the walls. Some of the paint was clearly becoming worn out as many stars faded with the blue background. A few drops of water also dripped on his beak making the penguin quickly back away and look up at the ceiling above him. Great, another pipe needed maintenance, just what he needed. He continued down the hall and finally made it to his dressing room, upon entering Grooves picked up his bright red jacket from the coat hook that he kept near the door and traded it for his equally bright, but fuzzy robe. He tried his best to not look directly at the pile of letters and newspapers near his door. Rent notices and papers full of reminders of his failures as a movie director.

Soon Grooves couldn’t take it much more and needed to get out of the room and left back down the hallway where he made his way to an elevator to go upstairs. He pressed the L button and leaned against the wall next to him as he listened to the soft space jazz. His wings were kept in his jacket pocket, and he could feel something in his inner pocket.  His heart dropped recognizing the piece of paper that he had with him. Despite his best judgment the penguin took out the rolled-up paper from his inner pocket and held it under one of the slightly brighter lights above him so he could inspect the writing.

“For as long as you make movies and keep one favor for me, I will allow you to own a recording studio with THE official Dead Bird Studios! If you do not comply with the following agreements both your -soul- studio and fortune fame will be taken from you.”

Looking at the bottom of the paper Grooves inspected his signature, it had nearly been ten years since he signed the contract and to this day the ink still looked fresh. The ghoulish stamp that was next to his name made him shiver, it reminded him so much of the raven-like creature he met and had made the contract with. He tried so hard to forget those hollowed glowing eyes of the bird that managed to tower over him, the laughter of that raven haunted him even more. He swore he could hear the cackling now as he looked down at the paper in his flippers. When the purple stamp started to glow the penguin let out a yelp and dropped the contract. Never had it glowed without him touching it, just as the paper landed on the floor the doors to the lift opened and he fumbled to grab the paper once again. He rolled the paper back up and stuffed it into his jacket, not wanting to look at that stamp anymore. 

Thankfully his thoughts were interrupted when something caught his attention, a bright flash of light illuminated one of the nearby rooms. He was cautiously walking up to the room with his wings ready in front of him to swat at anyone or anything. Upon getting just a bit closer there was another flash of light and this time a slight crash could be heard making the penguin jump slightly. He continued his way to the doorway where he finally saw the flashes of light had been coming from a window that was looking outside. He tiptoed to look out the window and let out a gasp. Multiple objects were seemingly falling from the sky! They were bright and falling quite fast! 

Was it a meteor shower? Surely something like that would have been announced! He saw another flash in the far distance which was followed shortly by the expected crashing noise. Grooves left the window and made his way to the lobby where he darted past the front sliding doors and hurried down the short hallway. From the windowed doors, the penguin could see something not too far from the parking lot shining brightly. Upon seeing the object his eyes were solely focused on it, and he felt as if he was being beckoned toward the glowing debris. 

As he opened the front doors of the studio he could hear the sound of music, it was calming yet captivating. He was being drawn to whatever it was that had been falling from the sky; not even noticing the other timepieces that landed in the lot. The subtle sounds of clocks ticking and the calming piano played along with soft tinkling sounds. As he inched closer to the object he barely even noticed how quiet everything outside the surrounding darkness became.

Wiping the dirt from the object Grooves finally picked up the item and was able to finally get a proper look at what he was holding. An hourglass? Not even a scratch was seen on the glass as he turned it around to inspect it. It glimmered under the moonlight as he held it up to the sky, the sand inside didn't even move when he turned it about. Before he could look any closer at the details of the hourglass the penguin looked up at the sky. A single bright flash from above him was what caught his attention, he squinted his eyes slightly behind his glasses and then put a wing to his forehead. Another flash and this time the object was seemingly getting bigger, not wait, it was getting closer! Unfortunately by the time he realized where it was landing the penguin could only widen his eyes and let out a squawk before he was blinded by a flash of light then everything went dark.

[soulcheri]

The sexual attraction continuing to build between them buzzes like a bee. "Small fry?" Had she not caught onto the flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes, she probably wouldn't assumed he was being serious. In which case.... "Go with that, I dare you. Yours will most definitely be Mr. Peabody then." She was just joking as she let out the biggest, honest to god laugh she's ever heard.

Since when has she last laughed? Brooke can't remember, its been awhile. Too long, in fact. The last few weeks have been filled with nothing but problems upon more problems, heartache, and stress. There was no time or room in her for laughter. Not until Gage showed up and made that possible, reminding her that fun still existed outside of her miserable bubble. And she was going to experience all that fun tonight, when he took her to this secret rave and applied her body with glow-in-the-dark paint.

After Brooke left the surf shop to go home and get ready, it's all she could think about. She was so excited to get out and try something new that she didn't overthink the getting ready part. Sure, she took a shower, put on the same bikini she had on before and threw on a cover up to keep her warm before sitting down in front of her vanity to coat her face in a fresh layer of make up.

"Going somewhere tonight, kitten?" Quinn interrupted Brooke after lightly knocking on her door. "Yeah, come in." Quinn was dressed in a suit, on his way to some charity gala for the evening. Monica was supposed to be coming with but, she was currently lying face down in a pool of misery, nursing a bad hangover. Brooke didn't want to talk about that or think about what it was like coming home to similar versions of her mom over the years. She might live in a big, expensive house with big, expensive cars and big, expensive bank accounts but... Brooke struggled a lot more than people thought she did. She looked for love in all the wrong places because where it was always supposed to be, she never got to experience it fully. Her parents were too busy fighting each other and their own demons to notice how any of it was effecting her.

"Listen, your mother isn't feeling well so I thought I would let you know. Also, I want you to be home by midnight tonight." He regrets to inform her of why. But, it doesn't matter anyway. Brooke would vow that she's 23 and even though she still lives at home (a detail she hopes to change soon), she's not beholden to his rules. "Sure, whatever." At this point, she doesn't want to argue. Nor does she want her parents lies and make believe truths to taint what was going to be a good night if she had anything to say about it. "Have fun." Quinn kissed the top of Brooke's head before he left his daughter to finish getting herself ready.

When the buzzer to her family's gate finally dinged, Brooke sprang up out of her chair like a kid on Christmas morning and darted down the steps. She didn't wait for Monica or her father's security system to capture too much of Gage. Not because she was ashamed of him or anything but because, she'd rather not answer a thousand and one questions until she had reason to. "Hey," The door swung open and Brooke practically fell out of it when greeting Gage with a hand over his stomach on her front steps. "I'd invite you in but, now's not really a good time." Given the way Monica interrupted her and Jake's intense moment a few days ago... Brooke wasn't willing to take that risk again with Gage. "I thought of your name, by the way. But I wanna hear yours for me first in case mine's lame and I need to change it." Her smile lit up her entire face as she climbed into Gage's van and glanced at him from the passenger seat. "Also, this rave... where exactly is it located?"

Gage would've thought Brooke wasn't interested in the flirting if it weren't for her expressive eyes. He could see a twinkle of consideration in them. They were all sparkly and attentive. If he weren't conscious of the fact that he'd been staring at her too long, he'd still be looking. Instead he focused on everything else in the room. The bare walls, the unpacked boxes, a few bikinis they left out while looking for the winner. In another life, it would have been Naomi standing here with him. There was nothing more important to him than impressing her. Growing up on the poorer side of town, Gage always thought of himself as a lesser person. That's what made him so angry and volatile. In life, he pulled the short stick and he was mad about it. Mostly because he was forced to watch guys like Ashton become prom king and CEO of their own company. Naturally things were easier for the wealthy. While they were buying boats, he was cleaning them. When they were taking girls like Naomi to dinner, he was waiting on them. Well not anymore. He could do more - be more. And Brooke made him feel like that was possible. She said so herself, he was the boss.

"They don't have raves on the eastside, huh?" He's only teasing, and to make sure she knows it, he leans in with a playful nudge. "They are fun and super exclusive. You know, so the cops don't shut it down. They're not exactly legal but nothing that's fun ever is." He smirks, doing his best to hold her gaze and not look down. Every few seconds though his eyes still sink to her cleavage and stomach. He was trying not to compare her body to Naomi's ( who he always thought was the hottest girl ever ) but they were very similar. Big, natural breasts and a toned stomach. The only notable difference was their height. Brooke was several inches shorter. Naomi was the kind of girl Brooke might've been thinking about when she mentioned not being tall enough to be a model.

"Your bikini would be perfect, actually." He licks at his lips without meaning to. "It's a lights out rave. So everyone will be in glow-in-the-dark body paint. It sounds sketchy but it's not. You can see everything. Everything is painted. It actually looks really cool. Like Christmas, all lit up and colorful." Gage wasn't describing Christmases at the Thatchers house — holidays were dreadful for him. His father drunk, his mother crying. It was a real trainwreck. Which is why he got emancipated at sixteen. He's been working and living by himself ever since. "So you can wear that and I will probably wear a pair of shorts or something. Then we cover ourselves in the paint. I'm not an artist but I can help you with yours?" Any excuse to touch her, really. "And because it'll be lights out, it's meant to be anonymous. Meaning, we get to come up with secret code names. How about I come up with yours and you come up with mine? Just give me a little credit, okay? Don't make me walk around with a name like Mr. Peabody or something." He laughs while walking her back to her car. "I already have a few options for you. So think hard, tinkerbelle... peanut...thumbelina...small fry." None of those were actual considerations but he has to give her a little hell before she goes.

[sukirichi]

reckless [01.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. explicit smut, accidental pregnancy, playboy! gojo, slight angst

✘ note. dedicated to wifey @7tsumurai​ who also made the banner and always supports me and showers me with love aaaa i love you baby <3 also this fic is mostly romance and fluff so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! thank you to @chosonore​ for pr-ing UWU. and we get like...10-15 chapters of this?!

one  ✘  two  ✘  three

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The night was young; streaks of gold flashing with the shimmering jewellery collared on your neck, the romantic humming of the violins pairing perfectly with the champagne that fizzed in your hand. It was supposed to be another day at work where you accompanied your boss to one of his events, considering the Casanova refused to bring his girlfriends in fear they might get the wrong idea he liked them outside the bed. It should be just another day at work; you’ve accompanied him hundreds of times before. Today wasn’t any different.

And yet it was.

You blamed it on the alcohol. On the slow dancing. On the fact he hadn’t stopped complimenting you all night and you’d been so stressed, the amount of planning and sleepless nights sacrificed in exchange of preparing for this event made you grab for three more flutes, the touch of your undeniable attractive boss permanent on your waist.

Satoru was equally aggravated. You’d worked him long enough to recognize even the smallest of cues, and the fact you’d spend nearly every hour of the day working with him for weeks straight in the office let you know he needed to let off some steam.

And what better way to relieve both of your tensions if not to give in to the cloud of lust?

The sultry gazes, the clashing perfumes between rose and musk, and the alcohol – the fucking alcohol – that gave way to you succumbing to your desire just this once.

There were no more thoughts – or if there were, they were muddled – as you kissed him back just as passionately, forgetting the fact his stylist spent an hour gelling his hair back to perfection as your eager fingers traced over his scalp. How you ended up in the back of limousine was beyond you, and neither was it your biggest concern when Satoru insisted you kept your heels on; his large hands caressing all the way from the ankle pressed beside his waist up to your waist.

You felt his daft fingers move the lacy thong you wore especially for tonight (not because you expected something, but the boost in confidence felt necessary) before he slides inside almost too easily.

Both your gasps and moans are swallowed in the stuffy compartment, windows fogged saved for the handprint you’d left when he hit a sensitive spot. He was moaning in your neck, skin slippery and sweaty as you slid from one another, seemingly never staying from one place as your hands treaded through his hair down to rake your nails on his back; his touch angry on your hips before his thumb found home in your clit.

As much as you hated him, hated his reputation, you couldn’t deny he really earned his title for being an absolute god in sex. You were no virgin, but you’d never felt this good, never felt this alive as bruises began to form in your skin and his lips hungrily sought out yours.

“S-Sir...”

“Satoru,” he corrected through your lips, the kiss barely even one when you were too busy moaning left and right. Satoru hitched your leg up to fold it right beside your waist, allowing him to explore deeper territories that not even you could mark.

His stare on you is perverted; openly wanton as he lets his empyrean gaze snake down to where your bodies connected. It was embarrassing to be this spread wide open for him, though it didn’t matter much, not when you clutched onto his bicep for dear life and panted breathlessly. He was kissing you everywhere – smearing your lipstick all over your lips and his, a stain of red on his hard, white collar and love bites marked deep into your collarbones and under your breasts. You tightened around him once he changed his rhythm into a more sensual one; the quick pace replaced with him pulling out slowly – inch by delicious inch until you felt empty with each growing second – before slamming back inside with fervidity that he never quite possessed behind his desk.

He groaned at your walls clenching down on him, his hips stuttering in the process. “Call me Satoru.”

“Satoru,” you moaned out, and his next sounds were pained. Pained because you sounded too gorgeous, felt too good, and with you following his hips thrust by thrust, neither of you would last any longer. Not even as you shake your head, lips swollen as you remind him, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed with a curled lip, sweat beading from the streaks of his white hair. “But I want you – god, you’re so beautiful tonight. Need to fuck you good—”

Gojo Satoru, one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire South East Asia and ranked as the second richest man in his early twenties, was a man of his word despite his reputation. Just as he was praised and fawned over for his beauty, charisma, and power, he was equally hated for breaking the hearts of women and treating his past ‘lovers’ like they were objects. The news were so confident of it; that he fooled them, played around with them, but behind the scenes, you knew Satoru wouldn’t do such a thing – from the first time he laid his eyes on someone, he made it extremely clear they were not to be attached. Everything with him was physical and sensual – anything beyond that would simply be out of character.

You weren’t surprised that he really did keep his word and fuck you good, because you couldn’t feel your legs the next morning and even though it had been hours, you still very much felt the shape of him carve through you.

The bastard wouldn’t stop laughing, of course, snickering under his breath every now and then each time he saw you grimace from doing simple things such as standing up and giving him the files he asked for. Perhaps it was because your dislike for him was apparent that Satoru quickly went back to fooling around, pretending you didn’t exist and only approaching you when need be. There were still moments you had to clean his mess up for him; taking his drunken phone calls at 3am because he got wasted in a bar, or doing the same for his current sex buddy who he didn’t want to stay in his home.

He was terrible, terribly awful that you despised this part of him.

You were only grateful enough that neither of you brought that night up ever again, for no matter how immensely hellish of an experience it had been, it was also something you’d really rather not be reminded of.

But now, there was no more running away from it. The truth stared at you blatantly in the form of two white lines that had appeared four times already from previous tests.

You were pregnant.

The world had never been that heavy on you. You had a rough upbringing, but it was a household filled with love and patience that it was innate in your nature to keep strong, be levelled, continue moving forward even during the times it felt like everyone and everything was going against you. You’d been through so much worse and you can do this, but you still couldn’t stop the tears that pushed from your eyes, your heart shattering the same time you dropped the stick.

“No, we won’t cry, it’s okay. I can handle this – I’m strong,” you repeated to yourself like a mantra, taking deep breaths to stabilize yourself. Clearly, this was unexpected, but you wanted to do your best, had to do your best. You didn’t have time to lose your composure, so you quickly fished your phone out your purse to dial the person you trusted the most.

“Rei...?”

Your best friend picked up on the second dial. “Sweetheart, where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for like hours now and you’re not picking up, I heard you called in sick for work and you never do that even when you’re about to pass out!” Some shuffling could be heard from the background before she spoke again, her tone a lot more gentle in response to your muted sniffles. “Is there something going on? Do you need me to drop by there right now? Tell me what you need; I’ll be there right away.”

“No, no, Rei, it’s fine, I just...”

“Sweetie,” she sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. Rei had been there for you in everything, starting from when you newly arrived in the city; fresh-eyed and hopeful for new opportunities. She’d been there when you first complained your boss was a creepy flirt, all the way until you’d made peace with said boss and remained firm in your boundaries. But those boundaries had clearly been crossed – no, rather, you erased those boundaries. You were drunk enough to give in to the need to be touched, but sober enough to consent to everything that happened. You couldn’t place this all on him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said eventually, voice barely above a whisper as you added, “And Satoru’s the father.”

Rei stopped munching on her – you assume – bagel.

“Satoru? Gojo Satoru, your boss, bonafide casanova, the face on billboards and one of the most “eligible” bachelors in the country, billionaire Gojo Satoru?” she let out in one breath, the image of her flipping her hand out in the air in disbelief as clear as day. “Am I really hearing this right? I’m not going crazy, am I?”

You sighed.

“We were drunk. I slept with him.”

“Did that bastard force himself on you?”

“No, gosh, never,” you defended with widened eyes, sitting back down on the toilet with the lid now closed. You couldn’t look at the tests even if you dared yourself to, the plastic bag concealed in the garbage or else you’d feel sick all over again. “I-I wanted it too...we just got carried away and the night was just...I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me and why I did that, but there’s no point in fretting about it because I’m carrying his baby now.”

“Well,” she started unsurely, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m keeping it. There’s no way I would even consider abortion.”

“But what about him?”

The back of your head throbbed in pain. Just thinking about his stupidly handsome face made you want to throw up once more. “I don’t really want to tell him, but he has a right to know that he’s going to be a father.”

“Will he even take responsibility for it?”

You swallowed nervously, nibbling on your thumbnails before snatching your hand away. Composure was something you didn’t struggle with; you were the more reliable one in the duo of you and Satoru, but you had a bad habit of picking on your nails whenever you were anxious. Had it not been for Satoru flicking your nails away from your mouth each time you dazed out a little bit, you would’ve never gotten rid of the habit, but it all came crashing back down on you in an instant.

A heavy knot formed in your belly.

“Most likely not, I know how he’s like. He loves his single life so much that he’d never allow to be tied down like this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tells me he doesn’t want it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t need him in my life,” you reinstated, finally feeling more confident the longer you talked to Rei. She was your instant hype machine in more ways than one; her presence itself gave you the reassurance you could handle everything your way. With hope blooming in your chest, you picked yourself of the toilet and wiped away your tears. You could do this – you can handle this. Not just for you, but this baby growing in you as well.

“In our life. I’m more than capable of taking care of the baby myself,” you told her, gaze hard and determined as your sunken reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Sighing, you shook your head and pictured Satoru’s face, already picturing a thousand ways this could go wrong. Only one way to find out.

“I have to go now. He needs to hear about this and then I’ll resign. Probably move back home – anywhere that’s away from him.”

“Doesn’t the baby deserve to meet their dad?”

“Their dad doesn’t even want to be one,” you muttered bitterly and threw your sweater back on, refusing to kick yourself around any harder. Now wasn’t the time to be illogical; you were now a mother and had to be responsible now more than ever. But first, you needed some well-deserved rest after endless agonizing of missing your period, along with the baby drop that until now, had shook you to your core. “I’ll call you back, Rei. I’m very tired.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Humming in response, you ended the call and crawled back to bed.

It wasn’t that you felt lonely, but you didn’t feel particularly belonging anywhere. You were far from home in a city that felt like the future, and each day you come home, it was mostly just a place to rest before you went back to work the next day. It was a dull, empty routine that you’d gotten used to, but never had it sunk deep into you that you did felt completely hollow.

But not anymore.

You were with your baby now, and as much as it scared you shitless to be a mother with zero preparation and knowledge, you were confident things were going to be okay.

Wrapping an arm around your belly, you had the best sleep you’d had in years.

You’d just have to worry about tomorrow. Hopefully, and you quite prayed harder than you ever did before, Satoru would let you go and keep things less complicated than it already was.

“No,” Satoru shook his head, his words dropping like a heavy boulder in the middle of nowhere. You stood in front of him shock still, hands wrung solid beneath your belly. Satoru merely shook his head, brushing back his gelled hair with a dry laugh. “No, what are you even thinking? You’re not resigning.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t really asking for permission, Sir.”

Truth be told, you expected this sort of reaction from him. It may be true that you and Satoru never got along in personal levels since he was too crass and you much stiff, but it couldn’t be denied you worked well together. You balanced each other’s flaws and brought out the best in one another. If someone had asked you years ago prior to you being employed by the heir if you could even tame the renowned free spirited man, you would’ve said probably not, but after sharing struggles and quite literally forcing one another to do better, you both reached highs neither expected to achieve.

It was an experience and a whole lot lessons learned working with him.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and you had to leave even if Satoru negated to it.

“We’ve been working together for years. Do you know how many people I fired and have resigned all because they’re not equipped for the job?” he plopped down atop his desk, loosening his tie out of frustration. The simple gesture made you swallow and look away – it felt impossible to look at him any other way than a boss now that you had his baby inside you. Thankfully, Satoru was mouthy as usual that he pulled you back from your train of thoughts as he gestured between the both of you. “You and I are perfectly compatible – I can’t let you go like that. I’m sorry, but I need you. There’s no one else I can work with this functionally. No one else is as willing to tolerate my bullshit except you and...I need you to stay.”

You clenched your teeth at the desperation in his voice.

Satoru admitting he needed people was one thing. But him asking others to stay? It may have just been for your value as the only person who had put up with him in both his best and worst times that made him feel that way, but you had to keep your foot down on the ground.

You wouldn’t let him sway you like this.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed all your energy to spring forth. “Sir...I’m more than thankful for all the opportunities, it truly was a pleasure working with you but—”

“Is this because we slept together?” he cut you off, your shoulders tensing. Upon your silence, Satoru heaved himself away from the desk and took cautious step towards you, stopping a foot away when you stepped back defensively.

You almost wished you didn’t know him so well. His eyes shone with a flicker of hurt before he masked it just as quick as it had came – for Gojo Satoru was a master of many things, and a great actor was one of them. Cautious, you had to be cautious, and you clenched your fists behind your pencil skirt as you tore your gaze away from his pleading ones. “It is, isn’t it?” he affirmed with a clear of his throat, looking just as lost as you did. Satoru stuttered for a minute before he eventually composed himself, but even then, he didn’t sound half as sure as he wanted to be.

“Listen, whatever happened that night, we can forget about it if you want. We’re both adults and professionals – we can put this aside us and just go back to normal. You don’t have feelings for me, right? So then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Satoru...it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, aggravated. Satoru began to round his desk and pulling out little white envelopes, stacking them before you in a haste. “Do you want a pay raise? A new car so you could get to work easily? O-or perhaps a bigger house where you can work more comfortably, somewhere nearer to the office? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll give you what you want. There’s no need for you to resign, this company has given you everything and we’ve got so much offer just as you could still be great—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Satoru’s slender fingers halted around the pen hovering over a cheque slip. “What?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” you exhaled, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from quivering. A quick sweep from your face to gather sincerity trailed down to your belly, staring at you hard enough as if he had the ability to look through your soul. “And you’re the father.”

“Is that true? Is...is it really mine?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I’m not telling you this because I expect that you’ll be responsible for it. No offense, sir, but I’d really rather raise the baby alone. Plus, I understand that you’ll never settle down or suddenly abandon your old ways just to—”

“Stop right there,” he raised a palm, “You mean to tell me you’re resigning because you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility for it? For you?”

The hurt in his voice and expressions were evident, lip curled in disgust; not for you, but rather of himself. Satoru was the type of man that couldn’t be withered down even with the harshest of rumours; you’d never seen him be affected before by tabloids and nasty ex-girlfriends who only slept with him for money or fame, only to talk smack about him afterwards. But now, he was crumbling before you, and you didn’t know quite what to say or feel over the vulnerability present in his cerulean eyes. It almost pained you know that you caused this – for the comforting, blue sky to be tainted with a thunderstorm that hinted of anger, of disappointment, of betrayal.

But could he blame you for not thinking the best of him?

“I’ve worked with you for years, sir, I know you.”

“Clearly not well enough,” he chuckled sarcastically, “Admittedly, I’m surprised, but not upset. The only thing that I’m upset about is that you actually believed it would be better to raise the baby – our baby – alone like I don’t even have a right to be in their life. Sure, it was an accident, but we made that. That’s our child and I’m going to take care of you and be a great father, even if you don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean—”

“That’s the first time you said something stupid. That’s our baby. We’re a family now,” Satoru’s hesitance had vanished into thin air as he was on you the next instant, hands shaky before they landed on your shoulders. It was meant to be a comforting gesture; a reassuring one, yet you couldn’t help but flinch and falter under his gaze. As if getting the message, he quickly retracted his hands and shoved them deep inside his pockets with a sigh. “You don’t need to resign or worry about anything else. I promise I’ll give you both the life you deserve, just...just please don’t go. Now that I know we have a baby, there’s just no way I can let go of this and pretend I never heard of this at all.”

You swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your skirt.

Out of all the different scenarios you stayed up late at night to turning your head in one by one, none of them included this. Undeniably, he was an asshole to most, but maybe he was right.

He hadn’t done anything wrong to you and he was still the father of your baby; he deserved a chance. Satoru had the right to be the father he was willing to be. You could already tell this might completely turn into one big mess, but his eyes were so hopeful, his smile so nervous yet expectant that you couldn’t help but say –

“Okay,” you relented.

His reaction was instantaneous. Satoru beamed and lounged at you, arms wide open for an embrace before realizing at the last second you could stab him with a pen and not regret it. One warning glare sent his way and he was retracing his arm behind his head, pretending to stretch with an off-tune whistle.

The sudden switch between pained and enthusiastic gave you whiplash, but you really shouldn’t be surprised. This was Gojo Satoru in the first place – he was as unpredictable as nothing was permanent and lasting to him.

It could be both a blessing and a curse.

For the sake of your baby, you genuinely hoped it was the former.

Not wanting him to get too ahead of himself since you still didn’t trust him enough, you raised a finger to poke him in the chest. Right now, you were no longer his secretary that openly despised him but added six sugar cubes in his coffee just as he liked anyway, but rather a woman who shared this mess with him, and as the mother of his child. You had to be strong. Being with Satoru felt like playing with fire, and you had far too much at stake – both of you did – but you weren’t privileged and fortunate like Satoru. One bad thing thrown his way could be brushed off, but for you? Everything you worked hard for could disappear just like that.

If you really chose now to play with fire, you had to be careful not to be the gasoline that ignited things to burn down into ashes.

“Satoru,” you stressed with your lips pressed into a thin line, “The only thing I expect from you is to be is a good father to our child. I know that it would be difficult for you to be a new person in a day and that your old habits won’t die right away, so please do what you can to be a good parent, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your life as well.”

His smile slowly vanished.

“Is that how low you really think of me?” he echoed rather sadly, “That I would still sleep around knowing I’ve got a family now?”

“We’re not a family, Sir. I have no intentions of marrying you nor would I ever want it. I’m just staying for the baby.”

“Fine. For the baby, let’s both do our best,” he crossed his arms on his chest, pumping out the hard muscles from how tight his shirt was. You were stuck between wanting to slap him or be closer to him; the hormones too much of a mess that you had to grip your thigh for restraint. “But tomorrow, you’re moving in with me. I’m going to take care of you from now on – I’ll get you whatever you need so whatever it is, just tell me. My credit card is yours to use as well.”

Move in with him? You wanted to laugh. That was the last thing you would want to happen.

“Sir, it’s fine, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I want to take care of you both,” he reiterated, growing slightly annoyed from your rigidness. You professed that you were being difficult right now, but it was much better than being easy around someone like him.

“We don’t have to be friends or lovers, alright? I know you don’t see me that way and I’m probably repulsive in your eyes – which is understandable since you always clean my mess up for me – but as a father, at least, let me do my job. There doesn’t have to be anything between us other than a mutual want to be good parents. Is that alright with you?”

You mulled the thought over in your head. So he was capable of being sensible sometimes, and after a few moments of silence, you narrowed your eyes at him.

Still suspicious and your guard was most definitely still up, but he was right. You both had a mutual want to be good parents and that was the most important thing right now. Everything else that complicated matters would be handled afterwards.

“I’m okay with that, but I would have to set down lots of boundaries if I’m living with you.”

“So you’ll really stay with me then?” You regretted nodding in response because Satoru was now fishing his phone out, a goofy smile on his face.

He took the news...surprisingly well, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Perfect! I’ll have your room prepared!” You tried to grab his arm to stop him from going overboard; knowing full well Satoru always had rushes in which he impulsively overdoes things. He might turn your room into some sort of grand suite that you wouldn’t really like, but he was far too excited and lost in his own thoughts that your words went from one ear and out the other. “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Whether it was relief or anxiety that bubbled through you, you had no idea.

It was definitely anxiety.

Satoru felt like a hyper child to be around, and as much as you were grateful that he was happy about this, you also wished he would calm down. You didn’t even have enough chance to settle in before he’s shoving you inside room by room, announcing that what was his was also yours and he would have a baby room set up next week.

You followed him around like a puppy as he marched into the kitchen, mumbling incoherently to himself about baby proofing furniture.

“Sir,” you called out, “Sir, listen to me. We need to talk about boundaries.”

Satoru blinked owlishly at your tired eyes, sheepishly smiling at you. It must’ve dawned on him that his speed tour of his penthouse felt a lot more overwhelming than welcoming, and he sat you down on the island stools before drumming his fingers impatiently on the cool marble. “Sorry, you were saying? I kind of got carried away.”

Carried away was far an understatement.

“I said, we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he paused with a furrow in his brow. “Also can you just call me Satoru? We’re going to be parents anyway and it’s awkward if you keep uh, calling me Sir.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to argue with him right now. You had to keep intact with him while you still had his full attention. Taking out a little notepad you prepared the night before, you slid it over Satoru who tilted his head to the side rather cutely to read it. “So here are my boundaries. One, I don’t want this pregnancy to be announced in the media unless I’m ready. I understand that we can’t keep this a secret forever but I need time to process this. Two, just because we’re living in the same roof together doesn’t mean that I get to go anywhere and everywhere with you. I’m going to work by myself—”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I said no,” he repeated more firmly this time. “You’re pregnant and I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. I’m driving you to work.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“You’re my secretary. People see us together all the time.”

“But you never drove me to work! I live far from the office and I most definitely don’t drive an Audi.”

“Things change, that’s your life now,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, stealing the pen you twirled in your hands. The sudden contact sent jolts of electricity from your knuckles, one that had you recanting your hands back to yourself. Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he crosses out the second rule, “Sorry not sorry but I don’t want to let you go places like that. Fine by me if you don’t want me to drive you, but at least have one of the chauffeurs take you somewhere if you really don’t wanna be seen with me.”

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth. Compromise, compromise, meet in the middle – you repeated to yourself to keep your sanity. “Rule number three: I don’t want you changing your attitude around me. We may have a baby on the way, but you’re still my boss and I want to keep our relationship professional.”

“You’re saying I’m not allowed to fall in love with you?”

You flicked his forehead, effectively erasing the teasing grin he wore. “That’s not going to happen,” you interjected irritably, although your heart skip a beat. That was a massive red flag already; you could never be too comfortable with him. For Satoru, his little comments here and there may come naturally and probably meant nothing to him, but there was a chance you could receive it with different interpretations. Shaking your head at him, you ignored his grumblings on how ‘mean’ you were. “We’re never going to be a couple. We’re just raising a child together. I don’t want you acting weird or too comfortable with me.”

Satoru scratched the side of his head as he mulled about it, “Are we allowed to be friends, at least? I understand the professional part, but I can’t imagine the both of us getting along for nine months and more when we act like boss and employee even alone at home,” before you could say anything, Satoru raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do anything weird to you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, so same as you, I view you platonically.”

Right. The heart surely was stupid and confusing.

You didn’t want him getting any ideas that this could lead to something more, but at the same time, it hurt a little to know you weren’t his type.

Hiding that pang of hurt behind a tight lipped smile, you forced yourself to agree with him. “I view you professionally, Sir.”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. “Rule number four: don’t bring home any of your fuck buddies or flavour of the night. I really don’t care if you sleep around, but respect my privacy and my standing as the mother of your childIf you’re really desperate to get your dick wet, go fuck them somewhere else.”

“You’ve never been this vulgar with me.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Despite countless of times that he tried being friendly with you to ease your stiffness in the office, you always shot him down.

You came to the city to work and provide for your family, not to be friends with your annoyingly hot boss who enjoyed his life way too much. Unlike him, you were more work than play, and eventually Satoru respected the fact you would never speak or treat him casually.

Until now.

“Try being in my shoes and see if you’d still have the patience of a saint,” you mumbled under your breath, sighing when Satoru’s smile got more awkward. “Listen, Satoru, I don’t mean to be difficult, okay? It’s just...this is a lot. This isn’t just us about anymore – we’re going to be parents and that’s a huge responsibility. It’s not only our lives changing here, a child will be relying on us in the future and I simply want to be a good mother, but I also don’t trust you very well to be comfortable enough to act like we’re suddenly friends.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Do you have rule number five?”

“No, not really, but I can add more as we go.”

“I have a rule number five,” he piped in, flipping the notepad his way as he scribbled something down. “And it’s that if you need help – and I mean with anything – you would let me help you. I’ve worked with you for a long time and I’m not dumb enough to not notice you like to do things by yourself. Like you said, things are different now, and especially with this pregnancy, you’re not alone in this. You need to let me take over the wheel sometimes. I can’t be just a passenger in the car – you and I are both in this together.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s easy,” he chirped, and there was that uncomfortable knot in your chest again. However, it didn’t sink in too deep because Satoru was blatantly staring at your belly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So do we have a name for them already?”

“Satoru, I’ve only been a few weeks pregnant, I don’t—”

Conflicting his previous statement that he’d keep his hands to himself, Satoru suddenly dropped to his knees. You watched with wide eyes, too flabbergasted to move as he places his ear on your belly.

“Hi there, little one,” he spoke in a soft tone, large hands caressing the tiny bump beginning to form. You couldn’t move; hell, you could barely breathe from how comforting his touch seemed in contrast to your mind ringing warning bells above. His voice quickly pulled you back to reality as he flattened his palm, white lashes fluttering against the cotton of your shirt. “I’m your daddy; I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy promises to take good care of you and make you the happiest kid ever, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

“D-don’t spoil them too much, Satoru.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled. Satisfied with that small moment he had, he straightened up and trudged over the dining table that was far too big for a man who lived alone. In that moment, an image flashed in your mind – that someday that table would no longer look empty as you and your child shared meals with him. You could already imagine how heavenly the sun would shine on the glass windows behind it, the flowers gathered in the middle of the table blooming to life.

Out of nowhere, it struck you.

Could it be that this was why he loved this baby so much after only knowing about it for a few days? Could it be that Satoru really was alone?

“Okay, we should probably have a welcoming dinner! The chefs left me something tonight. I forgot what it’s called but I think you’ll like it. Grab some wine on the cellar for me?”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right! My bad,” he clapped his hands together before pulling out ceramics and a cold pitcher, “Just water for mommy then,” Satoru said absentmindedly, completely oblivious to how your mind short-circuited a few feet away from him. He went about his way ignorant to it all and gently tugged you to sit with him, eagerly digging into the heated meals as you realized both of you hadn’t eaten.

For a guy who talked a lot, dinner with him was surprisingly quiet. Other than the occasional clinking of utensils against the plate, you enjoyed the silence with him.

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible since Satoru made it his daily business to always fill in the gaps. Peace and comfort stretched before you the whole time, however, that for a moment, just a short moment, you found yourself letting your guard down. Even when you both caught each other’s in the middle of a bite, you found no tension or awkwardness in it. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being beside each other for years now that this should feel natural, or maybe it was because you both mutually agreed on wanting the best for your baby. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to overcomplicate it right now.

“You know, I’m really excited about this. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a father,” he mused through a bite, swirling his red wine through his glass. Satoru gazed at his reflection almost dreamily, seemingly too deep in thought that he felt far from reach.

Or maybe you were the one who was detached, the one who kept pushing him away, because you could offer him nothing but a lame nod. “I’m glad to hear that...”

“What about you? You don’t look too happy.”

Your eyes widened at his worry. “No, I-I’m happy, of course. It’s just...it’s unplanned, and I’ve had my whole life planned out that I’m not really sure how this will all fall into place together.”

“Hey,” he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing warmth back into your skin that you hadn’t noticed turned cold from the nerves. Unlike his usual self with eyes brimming with glee, you could only see tenderness in him now, some sort of silent vow through a private smile shared only between the two of you in that moment in the solace of his home. Your home. “I promise I’ll be there for you and the baby every step of the way. I know that I haven’t had the best reputation and I have zero idea on parenting, but you’re not alone in this. You can trust me on this one, just like how we always trusted each other during work. Being a parent and running a business are both responsibilities right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you already know we work well together. We’re great partners!” he cheered, patting your shoulder way too bro-like. You resisted the urge to cringe. “We’ll be great parents, Y/N. I’m sure of that.”

Unsure of what else to do, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, you would be great parents as long as both of you never gave up. The thought of eating meals with him again with another addition to the table made you smile, and you hadn’t noticed you were spacing out, thumb running over his knuckles that were smooth for a man who never knew a day of hard labour. It wasn’t until you felt something prodding at you metaphorically, and you chuckled nervously as you saw Satoru smiling mysteriously at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned, “I’ve just never seen you this close before; not so much that I paid attention anyway. But this is nice – having you here, I mean. It gets lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t you bring your girlfriends around?”

“I never make them stay,” was all he said, and just like that, whatever thread that was beginning to form snapped. Satoru released his hold on you and gestured to your plate, carrying the dishes in his hand before leaving you alone on the table. Like always – a whiplash. “I’ll clean up, you can rest in your room now. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Do you even know how to do them?”

“Yeah, my mother forced me to wash dishes because she didn’t want me to rely on the house help too much,” he informed, the new information shocking you right to the core as he put on dishwashing gloves and started scrubbing. From this angle, he sure looked damn nice and domestic in just a white shirt, hair ruffled down to bangs.  “I’ll be right there with you,” Satoru announces casually, spinning on his heel with red cheeks once he realized what he said. “For just a goodnight, I mean! We’re not sharing rooms!”

“Yeah, no,” you coughed out, “We’re definitely not.”

It felt…surreal, to wake up in a room much grandiose than yours yet felt like home even for the first night. Satoru handled your moving in rather happily; you found him singing to himself this morning as he brewed his own coffee before realizing you were right behind him, sleepy as you lazily made waffles for the both of you. Everything flowed nicely and normally, like this had always been a normal thing that for a moment, you questioned once more what would happen next.

You were now getting ready for work, hands tugging at his tie because he was such a man-child who couldn’t even properly knot his own tie. His suit was custom tailored and he looked effortlessly gorgeous – beauty ripped straight from magazines he was constantly a front page of, but his tie was skewered and loose that it irritated you.

“You’re such a mess without me.”

Satoru bent down to wiggle his brows at you, thought you didn’t notice because he wouldn’t stay still for you to fix his tie fast enough. “Isn’t this sweet; you fixing my tie for me as we both get ready for work?” he teased, “We’re like a married couple already.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking you in the nuts.”

“Then how can I give you more babies?” picking up the newspaper on the coffee table beside you, you rolled it and started whacking him, a string of profanities colorfully painting his otherwise monochrome and sleek walls. Satoru’s laughter boomed all over the room even as he wiggled away from you, clutching his bicep that had been the victim of your abuse. “Ow, ow, I was joking! Jeez, woman, you are strong. Fight men a lot like this?”

“I work with you. My fighting instincts are always activated.”

His laugh really was annoying. But it did help ease your nerves – though you’d never tell him that – as you sat beside him in his car, the expensive leather seats no longer strange to you. It would’ve felt like any other day where you accompanied him somewhere, except the reason was different now, and it came crashing down on you of your current situation that things were undeniably different from now on.

You immediately stepped away from him the moment you got out of the car, clutching your clipboard to your tummy when Satoru bumped his shoulder with yours. “Come closer, it’s fine. No one will suspect a thing,” he points to the crowded building with people bumping and walking past each other, everyone too occupied in their own heads to even notice you.

It wasn’t much, but hearing his voice and reassurances relaxed you, even for just a little bit. Maybe your first day at work after the baby news wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but it seemed you had spoken too early.

Satoru heavily insisted that you worked inside his office from now on.

Your desk was located right outside his office, the phone line always within reach in case you needed to pass calls to him or if he needed you to come. Satoru preferred the privacy of his own space – or so he said; he actually just didn’t want you to witness him slacking around and experience your wrath – but now he was dragging you inside his office, pushing your shoulders down until you were ‘settled in.’

You didn’t even want to ask where he got a new desk from, or why it had to be right across from him. His desk remained elevated on a few levels, the welcoming lobby of the room filled with couches and stacks of coffee with a rich amount of sugar cubes.

Safe to say, most of the morning was spent (or rather, wasted) on you telling Satoru off. The man was too persistent, coming in on the office at random times of the hour with either snacks or heaps of biscuits on his arms. He always greeted you with a wide grin on his face, only to be kicked out of his own office because you had his hellish schedule and events to deal with. That was around three hours ago when you’d asked him to shut up and go bother someone else. You were halfway around finishing your workload for today when the door swung open, a tuft of white hair and mischievous eyes peeking through.

“Hey! Just checking in on mommy—”

“Satoru!”

“What? It’s just you and I,” he defended with a shrug, welcoming himself inside. Surprisingly, he was empty handed, though the pout on his lips told you it was against his will. “Seriously though, do you need anything? Do you want snacks? Tea? Do you need help going to the bathroom? You haven’t moved in your desk for an hour now.”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you ignored him for a while, resuming to working back on his schedule for the month. There were a bunch of e-mails you still had to respond to, which normally wouldn’t be such a daunting task if Satoru wasn’t shifting his weight from one foot to another, the sounds of his shoes hitting the tiles in an annoying click-clack rhythm getting to you. “Will you stop fidgeting! Your anxiety gives me anxiety, stop that!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I just feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

“Shutting up and letting me work in peace would be great, thank you.”

“You really don’t need anything?” Sending him a warning glare, Satoru sucked in his cheeks and ran back to his desk where he hid behind the safety of his large monitor. “Nope, yeah, I got the message: leave you alone. Good luck with that then, I’ll need those archives to pull up for our meeting with the directors later at five.”

Muttering a sarcastic finally under your breath, you resumed working.

The routine was per usual – answer the calls professionally with a welcoming and sweet voice, a pen always in one hand to jot down notes in reminders, adjust his schedules, work out his plans, go to him whenever he needed to sign something before responding back to e-mails. You were focused as you always were, but someone wasn’t, and it was getting harder and harder to keep being placated.

It didn’t help that he made no effort to hide the fact he was slacking off, the tip-taps of him randomly pressing keys on the keyboard similar to a fork dragging down a plate.

“I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head,” you twittered, “What do you need?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just realizing how beautiful you are right now.”

You paused. Unable to deny your curiosity over how serious he sounded, you spun around in your swivel chair. Satoru had his chin on his hands as he stared right back at you, his face devoid of expression that you couldn’t pick up on a single clue. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course the bastard would be teasing you, his loud chuckles a painful reminder of that. It was best to ignore him, so you went back to reading e-mails and forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. “We’re at work. Please stop distracting me; I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like a creep.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ll try to be less distracting next time, though I can’t control my charisma, you know!”

You jotted your thumb to your desk outside, “I can walk back to my desk where you can’t see me. That’d be a great for both of us.”

“Stay right there, I was joking!”

“Do you promise to be quiet and actually do your job if I stay?”

“With you disciplining and ordering me around like that, why not?” Mouth open for another heated retort, Satoru stopped you before you could say anything, his aura more serious this time. He was always like this; fooling around and maturing the next second, only for the cycle to repeat and test your patience. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N, I’ll shut up now. You’re free to end work as soon as you’re tired though; the driver is waiting in the parking lot whenever you want to go home.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Home. It felt weird to say that, but also…natural.

“You’ll stay with me at work today?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and you responded with a one-shoulder shrug. That seemed to be enough for him, however, and it wasn’t long before Satoru found the oh so rare and fleeting motivation to work hard.

Once he was settled, sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms and brows furrowed as he centered all his attention on the pile of paperwork before him, there was no stopping him.

Roles reversed and positions switched, you were now the one unable to take your eyes off him.

In this light, in this moment, Gojo Satoru had never looked more beautiful. He was much the same as you in the manner you never really noticed each other this way before; not romantically, but even just person to person. In your eyes, he was nothing but your irritating boss whose boisterous self always crowded over your peace, and in his eyes, you were nothing but his secretary who he knew always silently hoped would leave you alone.

But things were different now. You were different now.

Boundaries there may be, you couldn’t help that fluttering forming in your stomach. Contentment, happiness, relief, nervousness – all of them jumbled into one big mess. Out of them all, however, there was most definitely adoration, either out of respect for his unexpected kindness, or simply because it felt nice to feel for once.

Turning away from him until your back was the only thing he could see, you hid your smile as you secretly held your belly.

You’d never been reckless before, but what was to be a good story when there wasn’t a mistake or two made?

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hey! I read for dad! Lucifer post and seeing that your requests were open I wanted to know if I could ask for a second part to it, maybe how things evolve between Lucifer and his child and your relationship?

If not, could I request a similar scenario (the dad angst) with Mammon? Thanks a lot!

Much Better Off (Dad!Mammon x F!Reader)

A/N : Wew boy, at this point the only brother's who haven't been made into shitty angsty dads are Leviathan, Satan, and Beel (who already has a dad!fic I just can't make him an asshole... I just can't see it, he's a teddy bear, he would never do anything to hurt MC) Word Count : 3K Warnings : pregnancy; maternity; children; babies; child birth; labor; angst

Mammon would do anything for you, that much was made very clear. He loved you wholeheartedly, he was devoted to you, he was the perfect boyfriend all around. That’s why you weren’t worried, you felt like you didn’t have to be worried, you assumed that he would be there with you, for you, standing right beside you as you both went through this together. Who would have thought that this was the one thing that he didn’t want to take part in with you? Not you…

“Are ya kiddin’ me!? I ain’t ready for a damn kid! Look at me!” He shouted as you sat on the edge of his bed, twirling your fingers as you waited for him to stop ranting. The worst part was that you hadn’t even told him the news, you had just asked him how he felt about having a child together. Seeing his reaction made you want to turn, walk out now before he got any more upset than he already was. “Why’re ya askin’ anyways? We don’t need no kid, we got each other. How we gonna do anything with some baby screamin’ and cryin’ all the time? Gotta think about these things babe.” Your lip quivered as you continued to listen to him, his stance on the situation already clear to you before you had told him anything at all. The sight of you on the verge of crying made him shut up, cocking his head to the side as he studied your expression. “What’sa matter? Why’re ya cryin’?” “Whatever, Mammon. Just leave me alone. You think you can do that?” You snapped at him, quickly wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeve as you got up from the bed, walking to the door as he watched, clearly confused and unable to think of a time when you had snapped at him, let alone told him to leave you alone. He didn’t get it, and he didn’t think that he had said anything wrong. Asking him how he felt about having a kid was a silly question, especially considering who he was. Did you really think he’d be able to put his money towards some infant? It was hard enough already to share his money with you. You walked into your room, staring at the little white stick that laid on your desk, the two pink lines that had sparked joy in you only moments ago now felt like two walls, and they were closing in on you much too fast. “I’m sorry…” You mumbled, unsure of who you were even saying it to, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Sorry to yourself for believing that Mammon was capable of actually growing up, of taking responsibility. Sorry to Mammon for having that much hope in him, for almost placing so much responsibility on the shoulders of someone who couldn’t even zip up his pants without getting his dick caught in the zipper on the first try. But most of all, sorry to the child that you were carrying who had an absolute imbecile as a father and a mother with poor judgement for even thinking that he would potentially make a good father.

Mammon stood outside your bedroom door, his hand raised as he wondered whether he should knock or just walk right in. Surely you’d be pissed at him either way, but he heard the soft sounds of your breathing and he knew that you were sleeping. He should have walked away, he should have waited for you to wake up so he could actually talk to you, but he needed to know what was wrong, what the reason was for bringing up a child, and he hoped that he’d find the answers somewhere in your room. He opened the door carefully, making sure the hinges didn’t squeak or squeal to alert you that he was there. Seeing you curled up on the bed, holding tightly onto your pillow with the blankets wrapped around you, it hurt just a little. You should be holding onto him like that. You would have been holding onto him like that if you hadn’t walked out the way you did. He sighed quietly, turning away from your sleeping form on the bed to go back to searching, his eyes going straight to your desk. There could be something in your notebooks, or maybe in your bag. He wasn’t against going through people's things, it just felt strange to do it when they were in the room. Before he could even start flipping through the pages of your books though, his eyes focused on the little white stick. He didn’t know what it was, he had never seen anything like it before. “What the…?” He clicked his tongue, studying the stick for a little bit more before shoving it in his pocket and leaving your room. He may not know what it is, but surely one of his brothers would know, and the main brother he was thinking of was right down the hall, most likely with his face stuck between the pages of a book. “Hey! D’ya know what this is?” Mammon asked, walking into Satan’s room unannounced as usual, grabbing the stick out of his pocket and holding it up in front of his brother's face. He didn’t understand why Satan looked so disgusted, or why he smacked the stick away and out of his hand. “Jeesh… I was jus’ askin’. What’s yer problem anyway?” He mumbled, bending down to pick the stick up off the floor and shoving it back into his pocket. Satan looked on at his brother incredulously, like he was looking at the biggest idiot in the entire universe, and he was pretty sure that he actually was looking at the biggest idiot in the universe. “You don’t know what that is? At all? What’s it like being so clueless all the time?” Mammon didn’t have time for his little brother’s ridicule or mocking, he just needed to know what the stick was, it might give him some answers as to why you’re so upset. He stood there staring at Satan, his hands on his hips as he waited for a real answer. “It’s a pregnancy test, you dunce! How do you not know that?” Satan groaned, flipping his book open once more, only for Mammon to drop the test between the pages, looking down at his brother with wide eyes. “What’s it sayin’?” He whispered, almost too scared to ask too loudly. He didn’t want any of the other brothers to hear him, he didn’t need them to know. He didn’t want Satan to know either, but he was the smartest brother in the house aside from Lucifer, he was just too scared of how Lucifer would react. “She’s pregnant. Congratulations. Can I get back to my book now?”

The news was out, and you didn’t know if it was relieving that you didn’t have to tell him yourself or if you were more pissed than anything that he had gone into your room and snooped through your things without you knowing. “So when was ya gonna tell me, huh?! Or did ya jus’ plan on hidin’ it till the kid popped out? Betcha was gonna try’na surprise me… Well now ya know… I don’t like them kinda surprises! I don’t want no kids!” He had stormed into your room screaming it, out the window with his plan of keeping it a secret from his brothers. They had all gathered around the door to listen to the fool and watch as he made a scene. You watched on in complete disbelief, holding your pillow tighter against your body as he continued ranting and raving. “All yer fault too! Ya got all jealous ‘cause the ‘ttention I was gettin’ so ya try tah ruin my modelin’, tie me down with some kid that I ain’t want. Who’s the stupid one now? Huh?!” You were on the verge of tears, bringing the pillow up to your face to hide behind it as he continued spewing whatever nonsense his brain could come up with, anything to shift the blame off of himself. “Mammon!” Lucifer’s voice rang loud as he pushed through the crowd of brother’s that had all been looking on in shock. “All of you, back to your rooms. Now!” No one dared to go against him, not even Satan and Belphegor, they all scurried away, but you didn’t doubt for a second that they would be listening from the doors of their rooms, waiting to see what kind of punishment Mammon would get for not only talking to you that way, but also getting you pregnant. “Down to my office.” His voice was stern, he wasn’t messing around. For once, Mammon stood up to Lucifer. He was on a power trip after yelling at you that way, and there was no end in sight. “No. I’m gettin’ outta here. I ain’t lettin’ no human hold me back, and I ain’t lettin’ no human kid hold me back or take my money. The Great Mammon is leavin’, and I don’t want no one ta follow me either.” He strode out of the room, his head held high as if saying all of that made him feel more powerful than ever. Maybe it did, maybe he got a rise out of it, you weren’t sure. Hell, you weren’t sure of anything anymore. “Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything?” You could tell that Lucifer was enraged. The way Mammon had spoken to you and him was unacceptable on every level, but with Mammon gone, you had become his priority, the center of attention. He smiled weakly to you, walking over to sit on the edge of your bed as he awkwardly patted your legs through the blanket. “Are you thirsty? Do you need anything to eat?” You could tell that he wasn’t good at this. Comforting others wasn’t his forte, but he was trying his best, and it was appreciated. “Tissues?” You said weakly, finally letting the pillow fall away from your face. Your eyes were puffy and red from crying and repeatedly wiping them against the pillowcase. Your nose was just as red from sniffling so much and Lucifer pitied you. He knew that this wasn’t entirely your doing, Mammon was just being an asshole and trying to find a way out of any responsibility, as he always did. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, handing it to you with a soft smile, but you were a little confused. Why was he being so nice? “Aren’t you mad at me too?” Lucifer chuckled, reaching out to pat your head softly before standing up again. “Mammon is an idiot, but he somehow has charm. Humans cannot deny him, try as they might, and you were no exception to that charm. He wasn’t careful, which is the case with most things that he is involved with. You didn’t know that something like this could happen, you most likely didn’t believe that it could, but he knew, and he didn’t care. Such are Mammon’s mistakes.” He sighed heavily, grabbing the pillow that you had dropped and placing it behind your head again. “You need to relax, be calm. I’ll bring you some tea and soup. How does that sound?” You nodded slowly, relaxing against the pillow as you dabbed away the tears that had begun to fall. It was strange that Lucifer was

acting this way, you weren’t used to him seeming like he cared, but it was welcomed and much needed.

Mammon rarely ever came back to the house after he left, only dropping by to pick up clothes or random items that he might have left behind, but he never looked at you or talked to you. He never asked about the child that was on the verge of busting out any day now, he didn’t even ask his brothers how you were doing or how you were feeling, never asking if you needed help. He didn’t care, he never cared. “Y/N, how are you feeling today?” Lucifer asked as he walked into your room. It was something that you had now gotten used to, his constant appearances to make sure that you and his brother's child were healthy and well rested. He had, in a sense, taken over, not wanting to leave you to go through this kind of thing on your own. “You’re very close to the delivery and you haven’t gotten a crib or bassinet yet? Is she going to be sleeping on the floor?” He asked, looking around the room. You giggled lightly, shaking your head as you watched him walk further in. “I’m feeling good, thank you. And no… no crib or bassinet. I was thinking she could sleep in the bed with me.” You mused, rubbing your hand over your swollen stomach and feeling your daughter kick against your touch. “A lot of parents do that so they don’t have to get out of bed in the middle of the night. At least until she’s old enough to sleep on her own.” You shifted, swinging your feet over the side of the bed and quickly walked over to help you up, tsking his tongue at you. “If you spoil her from the moment she comes out, she’ll never willingly sleep on her own. I’ll order one from Akuzon and have it shipped here, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes at Lucifer, patting the side of your bed, motioning for him to sit down. “What is it? Contractions? Do you need me to hold your hand?” He was taking this so seriously, you still weren’t sure whether to be shocked or happy that he had stepped in when Mammon had walked out. He sat down, grabbing your hand before you had even told him what you needed, brushing his thumb along your knuckles. You bit your lip, looking down at your hands and then back up at him, letting out a small giggle. “I was actually just thinking that you’ve done so much… And I’m not even sure why… But you’ve never actually felt her kick. Do you want to? She’s moving around a lot this morning, I think she’s trying to get out.” You pursed your lips, watching for his expression. You could tell he was thinking, his eyes landing on your stomach as he watched the little waves that your daughter made beneath your skin. It was oddly satisfying to watch, and he had been wondering what it would feel like, so he slowly reached his other hand out to place on top of your stomach right before she kicked again. “Does it hurt?” He wasn’t exactly asking you, more so asking himself as she continued kicking against him which had a small smile forming at his lips. “She’s definitely trying to get out… I should order that bassinet now. I don’t think she’ll be in there much longer.” He quickly got up, standing straight as he smiled kind of awkwardly down at you. “Let me know if you need anything while I’m gone.”

Lucifer was right. Your daughter decided that she wanted out that night, and he was with you the entire time. He never left your side at the hospital, and he had even been the first one to hold her, placing his finger in the palm of her tiny hand for her to wrap her fingers around. “Let’s just hope you’re nothing like your father…” He whispered before handing her off to you, leaning in to kiss the top of your head as he brushed the hair out of your face. “You did wonderfully, Y/N. I’m so very proud of you.” Going back home was nice, all of the brothers were standing in the entryway waiting for you. They were all lined up, waiting to hug you and extend their congratulations before all getting a look at your daughter who Lucifer held close to his chest. If none of them had heard Mammon’s outburst at the beginning of your pregnancy, they all would have assumed that she was Lucifer’s based on the way he looked at her alone. With all the excitement and everything that was going on, you hadn’t even noticed Mammon who was standing next to the stairs, his eyes focused on Lucifer, but you couldn’t read his expression, not clearly. “So yer back home…” He muttered, finally stepping forward. “And ya brought the kid with ya…” You heard Lucifer growl quietly, not even realizing how close he had gotten until you turned around and saw him standing right behind you. Mammon’s eyes squinted as he looked between you and Lucifer before he started laughing loudly, waking up your daughter who had been sleeping peacefully in Lucifer’s arms. “Oh! Don’t tell me, Lucifer… yer datin’ my girl now… and ya tryin’ ta play dad ta my kid. Is that what this is?” What you weren’t expecting was to feel one of Lucifer’s arms wrap around you, pulling you a little closer to him, still growling, but much more quietly. “That’s exactly what this is. Except I’m not playing anything, I’m sure the child will be much better off with a more responsible father such as myself. Anyway, thank you for dropping by, have a great night.” Your eyes went wide as you turned to look back at the oldest brother. Was that what this was? You hadn’t even known… but… he was so good to you, and you could already see how good he was with your daughter… When was he planning on actually telling you though? He smiled down at you, rolling his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you, and you could barely hear Mammon’s gasp over your own. “I’m sorry, dear. I had a much better speech prepared for this, but as per usual, Mammon ruined it.” He brushed his thumb across your bottom lip before handing you your daughter. “I’ll be right up, I just want to show Mammon out the door this time.”

[sarayoon]

Being this height for at least since her teenage years, Sara was more than used to seeing the back of people's head's. From her fathers', to Hyun Woo's, Jesse's, JJ's and even some girl friends of hers, it wasn't like Khalil's would have been any different, too. Still, a faux gasp escaped her lips, as if he'd just said one of the biggest absurdities she had ever heard. "How dare you speak badly of those broad shoulders?" Her small hand flew up to cover her lips and add to the little scene she was making, before she apologized to his girlfriend and was met with news she didn't know whether they were bad or good.

She remembered from their previous interaction, back at Ver and Emmy's wedding, that Khal and his significant other had been together for quite some time, and, given the short answer he gave her, she assumed he was still in a healing stage.

A thing she understood quite well, though, she had been doing way better about her own predicament these days. Her mind had been occupied with other problems and her body was being taken care of, which, was one of the problems that had been fogging her mind lately: using her ex for the selfish purpose of satisfying herself sexually.

Her hand rested gently on his shoulder blade, rubbing the spot in an attempt to probably soothe his pain? Maybe? It wasn't like she would manage to, but hey... sometimes people just needed to know there were others there for him. "So sorry about that, Khal. Hope you're doing okay, though." With that, Sara gently pulled him downward and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "I'm a great listener if you ever want to talk about it." And talking about one's heartache, usually helped. Or so they say.

When the question was turned to her, the petite brunette simply shrugged. Overall, she was okay. Despite the mess she had recklessly decided to put herself into, she was okay. Her son was okay, she was focusing on her art more while also applying to work at art galleries and be closer to what she really liked... all in all... fairly okay.

"I'm doing well." The short-haired woman nodded. For the first time in a while, it didn't sound fake as those words came out of her mouth. "I've been focusing a lot on my art lately, and I've been applying to work in art galleries in Denver." She then let out a soft sigh. "My son is happy and healthy... I can't exactly complain, you know?" / @khalilhassan

The general buzzing in his veins couldn't be curbed, no matter how hard he tried. He'd found a viable distraction in a woman that he'd vowed to help and his defense, he had been doing just that. The agent smoothly pulled in a deep breath, surprised in the lack of the ache in his chest, or maybe he'd grown used to it. Anxiety had bloomed there long ago, making a home between his ribs. Happiness never lasted long and if it did, it would crumble in his palms at his self-made sabotage.

Brows lifted, amusement spiking his veins. "Still, I think it's a shame to pay for a ticket to see this," he tapered off, gaze shifting back to the glass, "and end up seeing the back of my head." The apology that followed cause an inaudible sigh to roll off his tongue. Girlfriend. He'd lost her weeks ago. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

Guilt washed over him in waves, but truth was, their undoing had been inevitable. It was only a matter of time before the truth spilled and trust was broken. The career he had given up everything for had only forced him into a life of making it a pattern. The lofty agent nipped at the inside of his cheek, his hands finding solace deep in his pockets. "We broke up," he added, tone low.

A hint of a smile showed on his mouth, her reassurance not all too surprising. She'd always been kind in the few exchanges they'd had. "That's what I heard." And in believing so, he felt hopeful that perhaps he still stood a chance too. The simple question left his head tipping back as a low hum of laughter was exhaled. How was he doing? The honest answer wouldn't suffice. "I've been alright considering a couple of things. How about yourself? You doing alright?"

@sarayoon

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)

Switcheroo - ao3

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.

It seemed like the only logical course of events.

He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.

The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.

He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.

Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!

Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.

Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.

He'd wolfed it down.

“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.

No one questioned it.

No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.

He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.

“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”

From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.

It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.

“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”

Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”

“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.

“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”

She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.

From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.

Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?

No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to – but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.

Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.

The sect leader had accepted it.

Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.

Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.

Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.

Probably violently.

Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.

So he packed up what he could and headed out.

He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.

Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.

For the first time, it wasn’t.

The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”

Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.

He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.

Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –

Someone picked him up.

It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.

Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.

It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”

The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.

“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”

“I will not. What is your name?”

“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.

He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.

“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”

“…we?”

“Wei Ying and myself.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.

“Mo Village.”

Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.

“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”

“In my…I’m still alive?”

Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”

That was reassuring, mostly.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”

“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”

“Yes?”

“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”

[spideymarvelws]

Playing truth or dare with college!Peter and MJ dares you to give him a (private) lap dance

This turned out to be much longer than expected

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

Warnings : SMUT! (Lap dance?ish?kind of? i went a bit of script im sorry, thigh riding, grinding, dirty talk, dom!peter, innocence kink, corruption kink?, masterbation, oral[male rec], mild degrading), alcohol consumption, everyone is 18+, kinda fluffy in the beginning but we do be getting smutty real quick tho, MJ being your personal wing woman

Also please dont take drinks from strangers this is fiction and not real life, always drink responsibly :)))

Word Count : 4.8k

Behind Doors

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

You tried to keep your staring to a minimum, you really did. But how could you when he stood in the middle of the crowd, glowing like an angel amongst everyone. He was laughing with his friends, his head tilted back with his eyes squeezed shut and a smile that could make anyone's day so much brighter. You wanted nothing more but to run your hands through his floppy brown hair bouncing on his head as he told his mates a story, his facial and hand movements lively when he moved them around, accentuating the words falling from his mouth.

His fit didn’t help either. A tight white t-shirt paired with blue jeans and a gold chain that hung from his neck, begging to be played with in any way. It was simplistic but made you swoon all the same. His muscles printed through the fabric didn’t help much either, his biceps almost tearing through the sleeves a mouth watering contrast to his cheerful face.

It was like staring at a greek god that radiated puppy dog energy.

“You’re not being subtle you know,” MJ whispered into you ear nudging your side with her elbow, “Just go talk to him,”

You shook your head, heat rising to your face as you averted your eyes from the brown eyed boy, turning to face your best friend, “You know i can’t do that,”

“Not with that you aren’t,” she pointed at the red solo cup you held in your hand filled halfway with orange juice. She quickly snatched the cup away from you, dumping the contents in the grass of the backyard.

“Hey!” You gasped, but made no effort to stop her.

“You need to loosen up,” she stabbed her finger into the middle of your chest, shoving her drink into your hands, “All of it, now,”

You took the cup hesitantly swirling the contents inside around for a bit, watching as the liquid moved smoothly around the sides of the plastic. You looked back up at MJ, feeling small when she stared you down with a stern look. You knew you weren’t finding a way out of this one.

“Fine,” you grumbled before tilting your head back, chugging the alcohol down. You let out a few coughs afterwards, giggling as MJ started to cheer.

“That’s my girl!” She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side, “Now for about five more,”

Two hours and four drinks later, or maybe it was six you weren't keeping count, the party finally started to die down. The liquor running through your system did its job well in letting you loosen up so you could enjoy the party without being distracted by a certain brown haired boy.

You had lost MJ halfway through the night, your mind finally processing that she wasn’t by your side when you reached for her to dance with you. As you busied yourself by looking around the room, you felt someone place their hand on your lower back, sending shivers up your spine with the touch. You whipped your head around, expecting your equity intoxicated friend but only to be met with the same brown eyes you’ve been fawning over at the beginning of the night.

“Hey,” he said into your ear so that you heard it over all the noise. He moved his hand off your back after he got your attention. You tried your best to keep the tiny whine from escaping your throat at the loss of his touch. The free feeling you felt with the alcohol completely vanished with the sound of his voice turning you into that shy nerd all over again.

“Looking for someone?” He said, pushing the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his pants.

You stood speechless, you mouth agape that Peter Parker, the Peter Parker was talking to you. MJ was wrong, no amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for the moment. At least you didn't scurry away like a mouse like you would’ve if you were fully sober.

“I- uh,” you coughed, trying to get some words out but failing miserably.

“Sorry, It’s just I saw you looking around,” he scratched the back of his neck, chuckling at your flustered state. His cheeks starting to turn a light pink which made you swoon even harder, “I assume you’re looking for MJ, since you were with her for most of the night,”

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, laughing awkwardly, looking down to the ground, “How did you know I was with her?”

“You guys are always together!” He smiled showing off his pearly whites, “Around campus you know? I’ve seen you guys together in my classes as well,”

“You noticed me?” You whispered, mainly to yourself but he managed to pick up your words, making you even more embarrassed than before.

“Of course!” He passed his hand through his hair, looking straight into your eyes, “How could I not Y/n?”

You stood speechless, your mouth opening and closing as if you wanted to say something but changed your mind last minute. Millions of thoughts ran through your brain per second, the most frequent being your name rolling off his tongue.

“Anyways, uh, the main reason i came was to bring you to MJ,” he chuckled nervously, seeming just as flustered as you, “She’s in one of the spare bedrooms with some of the boys, we’re playing a good ole’ game of truth and dare,” he voice raised adorably, making you giggle lightly, “You don’t need to join or anything, but i don’t think you would want to be alone out here,”

“Yeah!” you replied a bit to quickly, shaking your head at your enthusiasm, “I mean, yeah, I would like to join you,”

“Sick!” He smiled brightly, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widened at the action as he pulled you through the crowd, you looked down at the ground, allowing him to maneuver you around the mass of bodies.

“Just so you don’t get lost,” he said, looking back at you, pointing out your intertwined hands.

“Of course!” You said back, holding back your squeals of excitement.

You were honestly surprised with how sweet he was acting towards you. Despite his status as part of the biggest frat on campus, his reputation upholded him as the good boy of the group, the one who helped old lady’s across the street or bought lunch for you when you didn't have the money. Sure, you saw this on multiple occasions but to experience it for yourself was a nice change, and just solidified your crush on him even more.

When he reached the stairway vacant of anybody, he still didn't let go of your hand, only tightening his fingers around yours. He walked down the dark hallway and approached a door ,giving you a reassuring smile before turning the knob and pushing it open, revealing around eight or nine people. Some laid on the bed, beers in hand as they laughed while others sat on the couch. You spotted MJ on the floor, laughing with Harry Osborn.

“Who’s the chick Parker?” One of the boys said, silencing the room and putting everyone's attention on you.

“This is Y/n,” he gestured towards you, “Y/n, everyone,” Peter finally let go of your hand, popped himself on the edge of the bed, picking up a beer from the side table and nodding his head at the empty space besides him.

You looked towards MJ panicked, but all she did was mouth ‘go’ with a shit eating grin. You sneered back at her, rolling your eyes as you walked up to the bed, bending your right leg back to sit on your calf while the other dangled over the edge.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Peter leaned into your ear, whispering gently, “Again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t have to,”

You pouted at his actions, melting at the fact that he was so observant with you. You looked down at his beer, before looking back up at him. If you were going to get through the rest of the night, you needed to be absolutely wasted.

“Do you have another beer?” You asked him, pointed to his bottle.

“You could just have mine,” he offered his drink, passing it off to you.

You bit your lip, taking a long swig of the liquid, “Thank you,”

Before the both of you could converse any longer, a girl with short blond hair you knew from English, called out from the corner, “Okay, okay, who wants to go next?”

“I think Y/n should go,” flash said, holding up his bottle towards you, “She’s the new one isn’t she?”

Peter looked at you, silently asking if you needed him to say anything. But you decided to take things into your own hands for the first time that night.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you said, taking another swig of beer.

“Alright Y/n,” Harry said smugly, leaning back on his forearm, “Truth or dare?”

You thought about it for a bit, missing the smug look on MJ’s face as you muttered, “Dare”

“I dare you to give Peter a lap dance,” she said immediately, leaning back as she held in her laugh at your washed out face, “I mean we could send you to the other room if you want more privacy,”

You sat speechless and once again wanted to melt into the sheets beneath you. You felt Peter’s hand wrap around yours, giving him your attention.

“Only if you want to,” he muttered, giving you a soft smile.

“I-,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather the little confidence you had left, “Which room?”

Hollers and shouts bounced off the walls, as everyone hyped both of you up. Peter stood, pulling you up with him, leading you out the room.

“Take as much time as you need!” You heard MJ shout after you before the door closed, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as Peter guided you once again to another room. You gulped, wondering if you had made the right decision so give a lap dance to your crush. He didn’t say anything as he knocked on a door, opening it when he didn't hear any noise come from the room.

“After you,” he said politely.

“Thank you,” you said shyly, walking to the middle of the room.

Peter closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood, “Sooooo,” he dragged looking you up and down, “I- uh, didn't expect you to say yes,”

“Me neither,” you chuckled, looking down to the floor.

“I mean if you don’t want to, it’s just a silly bet,” Peter said, fiddling with his fingers.

“Do-,” you coughed, “Do you want me too?”

“It’s up to you really,”

“But would you mind if i-“

“I mean I wouldn’t be against it-,”

You both laughed nervously falling into silence after that. You looked around the room, finding interest with everything besides him. You were fidgety, playing with your fingers while tapping your foot on the floor rapidly to calm your nerves. It was stupid, you’ve been dreaming about him for so long, and now that you were finally in a room together you clamed up, not knowing what to do in his presence.

Peter on the other hand kept his gaze on you, his eyes racking your body up and down. He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he’d never thought of this moment, the moment where you and him were finally together, in a room, all alone.

You were different from the girls he was used to in the frat. You were untouched, well to his knowledge, you were a clean slate and from the small confrontations he’s had with you, he could tell you were obedient too.

He wanted so bad to just have his way with you, to absolutely ravish you like he did in his dreams. But he wanted to savour it. After so long of watching you pin over him, purely to feed his ego, he was ready to take things to the next level and what better way than with a good lap dance. Sure he was the good guy, both as himself and as his alternate persona as a hero, but when it comes to you, all his morals were thrown out the window.

Besides, you were both intoxicated and he didn't want your first time together to be at a stupid party in a room he was barely familiar with.

After a few more seconds of silence, Peter decided to take things into his own hands, to make his fantasy a reality, or to just get it started at least. He was the first to make a move, walking right up to you, taking your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him while his other hand made its way to the side of your waist, pulling you closer.

“Y/n?” He asked, swiping his thumb across your lips. He may have an unhealthy obsession with them but it didnt matter because in the next few moments he would make them his, “I’m not stupid you know,”

You blinked rapidly, tilting your head to the side at his statement, confused and slightly hurt.

Peter only chuckled, slipping his thumb between your lips for a split second before pulling it back out and resting it back on your plump lip, testing the waters, “I said i noticed you, and when I mean I noticed you,” he leaned forward, placing his lips near your ear, “I meant everything, down to the constant heart eyes,”

You held your breath, not knowing how to feel, what to think. Peter Parker, the Peter Parker, was standing in front of you, playing with your lips with such close proximity, telling you that he was aware of your existence. That there was a chance that he might feel the same way about you.

You had to remind yourself that this was just a bet, that he didn’t mean anything he was saying. He was only doing it because he had to. Even if he was a sweet boy by heart, he still had a reputation for sleeping around, that to him you were just another girl to add to his collection. 

But when he pushed his thumb into your mouth, you knew you'd fall victim as well.

“Mhh,” he hummed, “such a good girl, just like i knew you’d be,” suddenly, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and sat back down on the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap, “Now, i believe you have a dare to fulfill,”

“I- uh,” you stuttered, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulder as you settled into his hold.

“You’ve never done this before, have you princess?” Peter mumbled, hovering his lips over yours.

“i-,” you shook your head, lost for words when he called you princess.

He hummed, one of his hands gripping your waist while the other laided on your cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb, “Let’s start off slow then,” his thumb moved to your mouth once more, playing with the bottom lip. You sat frozen, letting him take control. You didn't trust your body to move, you could barely even talk.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to kiss these perfect lips,” he whispered, moving to kiss your neck, trailing his way up to the corner of your mouth, “I’d imagine you’ve though the same,”

You nodded, tightening your hold on his shoulders. Peter laughed, his breath hot on your face.

“You’re going to need to say something if you want me to continue princess,”

“Yes,” you squeaked, clearing your throat, embarrassed by your quick response, “Yes, I-uh, I’ve thought about this, yeah,”

“Hmm, good,” he mumbled before finally latching his lips on yours, keeping your face close with his hand.

His lips were rougher that you imagined, probably from constantly licking them for most of the night. But the more you kissed, your mouths opening and closing with each other like its own dance, the more wet and lustful it became. You could feel your body begin to relax into his, melting into the warmth. His confidence only grew with the soft moans escaping your mouth, quickly slipping his tongue inside when your lips parted, exploring your mouth with vigour and purpose.

Your breath hitched in response, using your own tongue to match his movements and tangling it with his, fighting for dominance you were sure he was going to win. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the short curls at the base of his neck, smiling when he groaned into your mouth. You beamed at him when you finally pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips.

“This seems more than just a lap dance,” you let out a shaky sigh, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled, using his hands to bring your hips closer to his crotch, your dress rolling further up around your waist.

“Then what are you waiting for,” he said cockily, leaning back on his forearms, looking back at you expectantly.

You let out a breath, readjusting yourself on his lap before moving your hips slowly. Your pussy barely made contact with his now hard cock poking through his jeans, teasing it ever once in a while when your panties brushed the tent. You smirked, despite not knowing what the hell you were doing, it seemed like you were doing a decent job.

“Don’t get to cocky princess,” he groaned, squeezing your waist tightly, “You forget that I’m the one in charge here,”

You bit your lip, muttering a soft sorry.

He hummed, nudging his nose with yours, “Let me help you then,” 

He grasped your hips, pulling your it closer to his crotch, grinding it against your core. You let him guide you with his hands, following his lead supporting yourself with your own hands clutching on to his shoulder.   

He let out a long sigh, his head falling back. You took that as the queue to grind faster, enjoying the effect you had on him with such a simple movement. Your confidence grew with the noises escaping his throat along with the occasional praise only fueling your need.

In a rush of the moment, you moved your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him into a needy kiss. It was much more sloppier and messier than the previous one, your focus more on moving your hips than keeping your lips in sync with his.

But you wanted more. As much as you enjoyed Peter’s eyes trailing your body, his hands exploring your waist and the angelic look on his face, you couldn't help but wonder if it stopped there. If you could make his moans louder, his hips jut against your with need, just as much as you needed him.

After a few more moments, an idea popped into your head with the faint sound of music coming from downstairs.

“Peter,” you decided to purr in your ear, biting your lip when his eyes fluttered open, dark and filled with lust.

“Yes princess,” He cooed, moving his hands back to your waist while keeping eye contact, brushing his lips over yours. But before he could fully kiss you, you pulled away, giggling at the little whine he let out.

“What is it?” he pouted, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond, only biting your lip in thought. He grabbed your jaw, focussing your gaze back on him, “You were being such a good girl, what happened hmm?”

“I- I have an idea,” you gulped, the confidence you felt seconds ago melting away under his stare, “Do you have a speaker?”

He nodded his head, pointed to a desk in the corner with a small black speaker sitting on top. You smirked, hopping off his lap and running to the box. Peter leaned back on hands, watching with curious eyes as you pulled out your phone from your jacket pocket, tapping it open and typing in your password.

“What’s going through that head of your princess,” he mumbled, but loud enough for you to hear.

You only giggled in response, playing around with the speaker to turn in on. After a few more seconds of fiddling, you spun around with your phone in hand and a teasing smile on your face. Your finger pressed down on the screen, the room filling with the song Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet.

He scoffed, “And here I am thinking you were just an innocent little thing,” 

You bit your lip, looking down shyly and placing your phone on the table, your back facing him, “I just wanted to set the mood,”

“Was grinding down on me not enough?” he teased, “Are you always this greedy?”

You let out a breath before turning around, your heart practically beating out of your chest, “Only with you,”

You glanced up at the brunette face, nervous that maybe you took it too far. It was just a simple lap dance, nothing more and nothing less and you should've kept it that way. But the kiss was addicting, keeping you in a daze where all you wanted was more. More of his touch, his mouth, his taste.

You’ve wanted him for so long and now that you dipped your toes in the waters, you wanted to dive in and never come out. What really kept you going was his reactions to your touch, the small grunts and moans escaping his mouth because of you. He wanted this as much as you did or else he would’ve shut you down by now, right?

You were just getting ahead of yourself.

“Come here Y/n,” he almost growled, his eyes never leaving you while you shuffled your way between his legs, yelping when he gripped your waist and pulled you back down. Instead of straddling his waist, he moved you so your legs were on either side of his left thigh.

You went to speak but the gripped your jaw with his forefinger and thumb, forcing your eyes on him.

“You never fail to surprise me princess,” he whispered, his free hand trailing up your waist, brushing past your breasts, “I thought I had to treat you like a good girl, take my time with you” he chuckled darkly, “Turns out you need this just as much as I do, my greedy, desperate little thing,”

You bit your lip, tucking your head in the crook of his neck to avoid his stare. The pet names he gave you was already enough to leave you a mess but adding ‘my’ in front of it made you melt. You wanted to be his, you wanted him to take control of your body and use you as he pleased. He adjusted his thigh, having it bump against your clothed pussy. Heat rose to your face when you let out a small whimper, settling back on his leg, craving the friction but you didn’t move, waiting for specific instructions.

“You weren’t so shy before, what happened?” he kissed the shell of your ear, “Go on princess, ride my thigh like the desperate whore I know you are,” 

Without thinking you began to grind your pussy along his thigh, your face growing hotter when you felt the wetness seep on to his jeans. Peter kept his hands on your waist, keeping your movements at his own past, occasionally bouncing his leg, enjoying the little whines you let out. When you started moving faster, he knew you were nearing your high.

“Princess, look at me,” he grunted,“I want to see that pretty face when you cum,”

You let out a shaky sigh, pulling your head up to face him but you could barely keep your head up, too concentrated on moving your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans. He quickly recognised this and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly to get some of your attention. 

“Peter,” you whimpered, near to tears with how close you were to climaxing, “Peter please,”

“What is it princess? You want to cum? Is that it?”

You nodded quickly, “Please,”

“Go ahead princess,” he grinned, smashing his lips against your to swallow your moans as you came on his thigh, your hips moving in slow strokes to prolong the feeling. You pulled away after a few moments of feverish kissing, your arms falling limp around his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your forehead falling against his with the breathless laugh, “That was-”

“Great? Amazing? The best experience of your life?” he laughed, falling back against the mattress, pulling you down with him. You giggled, shoving your face in his neck and inhaling his comforting scent.

“Yeah,” you turned your head to face him, pouting when a piece of his hair fell in front of his stunning eyes. You moved it out of his face, kissing his nose in the process, “I liked it a lot,”

“That’s good, that’s good,” he whispered, tightening his arms around you.

All of a sudden you felt something poke at the inside of your thigh. It took you a few moments to realise that he was hard and was probably aching to get off at this point in the night. 

“Do- do you want me to help?” you said shyly, sitting up on your hands to fully face him.

“You don't have to princess,” his hands passed up and down your waist, “Seeing you fall apart from my thigh is all I needed tonight,”

The twitch of his eye and dryness of his lips told you otherwise. 

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip, moving your hand slowly down to his hard on, “because I don’t mind helping Petey,”

You didn’t know where the nickname came from but it was too late to take it back. Judging by the dark look in his eyes and the almost cynical look on his face he didn’t mind.

“You want to help me princess? Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”

You shook your head eagerly, “Just tell me what you want,”

“And what if i want you to suck my cock?”

“I would do it,”

“Do what?”

“Su- suck your cock,” you replied bashfully looking down at your hands now intertwined on his stomach.

“Aww, is my princess getting shy?” he fake pouted, “After getting off on my thigh like a slut, you’re getting shy about taking me in your mouth?”

“I-”

“It’s alright princess i’ll guide you through it,” he reached down to unzip his jeans, shuffling awkwardly to push them down so he could get his member out. You watched as his hard dick slapped against his chest, big and throbbing.

He moved your hips back so that you straddled his legs this time, taking your hand and raising it to your mouth.

“Spit,” he instructed, looking up at you with hunger, “Now,”

You hesitantly spit into your hand, watching in awe as the wad fell into your hand.

“Good girl,” he sighed, moving your hand to wrap your small finger around the base of his cock, “Have you ever jerked someone off princess?”

“Just two,” you respond hesitantly.

Peter gritted his teeth, trying to get the idea of you touching anyone else out of his mind, “Well let's make this your third and final guy hmm?” his breath hitched when you started to move your hand up and down his cock, “You’re mine now princess,”

In the spur of the moment you leaned down, licking the red tip of his member, “Only yours,” you whispered before taking him halfway in your mouth, gagging and pulling yourself back up.

“Take your time princess,” he gulped, “fuck but you could do that again if you’d like though,”

You giggled, licking and kissing the sides of his cock and taking it once more, reaching further than this time than you did the last. You bobbed your head continuously only raising your head to take a breath and going in again.

“Fuck princess, I knew your mouth would be good,” he groaned, “You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good down your throat, fuck!”

You smiled around his length, the back of your throat contracting around the tip making him moan your name. Before he could praise you even more, someone's voice cut his words off.

“Everything alright in there?” MJ said through the door but you were too lost in your daze to answer or recognise her voice.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Peter smirked, pushing you to take the rest of his cock, “We’re just going to take longer than expected,”

...

Part two maybe??

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Crossed out means i couldn't tag :(

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[stardustincarnate]

Dating Light Yagami Would Include :

— assuming you begin dating in high school

— one time he casually asks if you want to go on a date with him. with him being collected as usual he looks as if your answer won't even matter. but honestly he's lowkey panicking on the inside. i mean he really likes you, for years even, so if you were to reject him it would leave him crestfallen

— what does she not like about me i'm everything you wish to have for a boyfriend

— how he asks you to be his girlfriend?

— " [y/n], would you mind? "

— " mind what? "

— " being my girlfriend? "

— can't look at you in the eye. i mean, sure, but for like 2 seconds before he finds the walls suddenly interesting

— wait is that light yagami really sweating?

— boy basically almost stutters you find it amusing and almost chortle

— i mean this boy right here have always been collected so to see him lose a wee bit of his composure is straight-up entertainment

— LIGHT INVENTING THAT “BOYFRIEND VIBES” LOOK

— I MEAN HAVE YOU SEEN HIS WARDROBE

— he's not exactly the biggest fan of PDA especially when you're at school

— school is a place to study not to flirt

— though sometimes he will in the most SUBTLE ways that you don't even realize it

— protective boyfriend check ✔️

— someone catcalling you? he'll look at them in the eye and they'd be dead right on the spot

— you don't want to mess with yagami

— when you two walk together you walk side by side. occasionally holding hands but if not then at a really close proximity

— though he likes it too if he were to walk behind you real close just so he can watch over you from the back

— feeling down?

— " it's okay to let it out [y/n]. i'm here to listen, okay? "

— forehead kisses 🥺

— gives the BEST advices like oh gosh where does he get all that stuff from and how much has he actually experienced in life???

— and he's sort of like a mom friend actually

— not the biggest fan of small talks. well, sure, sometimes it helps him. but often it wears him out and he doesn't really get the point of why he and the other party should be talking about something that isn't conducive in any way

— being good at socializing doesn't mean he always enjoys it

— some peeps honestly wear him out tsk

— he's the type of person who looks deeply into stuff that has your brain turning its wheels at 3a.m. so if you're that type of person too then he'd be more than happy to discuss it with you and he'd be so in love ugh

— i mean he doesn't sleep at 3a.m. because that definitely is very much unhealthy but you get the picture

— though sometimes he has trouble sleeping because of overthinking

— he won't admit but it really helps if he can talk about it with you before the day ends

— you two often debate lightly but at some point it gets a wee bit serious

— but no one gets mad ofc it actually clears both your minds and gives you new perspectives

— if you're that person who asks someone else for homework answers then i'm sorry but light says N O

— he loves you, really

— but please learn to do it yourself

— he will help you understand the lesson if you had trouble doing so but it only goes that far

— oh AND I CAN TOTALLY SEE HIM HAVING A STUDY SESSION WITH HIS S/O <3333

— IT HAPPENS OFTEN

— AND IT'S ACTUALLY VERY RELAXING

— just there in the silence enjoying each other's company while reading

— either in his room, yours, or in a small coffee shop that's barely visited by anyone

— classrooms can work too only if the other students had already left

— also when he's really really bored he picks up the most random things he can see

— coughs the notebook coughs

— then proceeds to stare at them for like five minutes straight

— " why is he staring at a pencil like that— "

— " i think he's about to make-out with it "

— don't disturb him he's somehow managed to get lost deep in thought and if you dare interrupt it's adios for you

— when he stumbles upon the death note, he contemplates about telling you about it but thinks better and decides to keep silent at first

— but once he's sure that the notebook isn't just some kind of prank he gravely swears to himself that he'll never tell you about it

— he's not himself for the next few days because he. just. killed. a. bloody. person. and has a shinigami wandering by his side how. messed. up. is. that.

— and when you ask him what's the matter, he'll just look at you—look away—then shake his head

— because of his pride shyness he will not ask you to comfort him

— but when you do he'll just close his eyes, sigh, and indulge himself in that very moment

— then he'll whisper a barely audible " i love you "

— and he MEANS it

— once he recovers from the shock and knows just what to do with that bloody notebook a point where he has to break up with you will come

— the thought will pain him at first, but he's got to

— which is probably for the best because if you were to stick with him any longer he'd eventually kill you since he says you're not a very useful piece on his chessboard

— but that happens only if he survives

— in which case he doesn't

— well. . . moving on

— in conclusion, he's that type of bf who shows his love for you subtly. he respects your personal space because he has his own too. and he knows that although you two are in a relationship there are other things that require your attention more. being in a relationship does not mean smooching nearly every second of the day. love can come in many forms.

— please distract him so he doesn't find the notebook i just want my cinnamon roll back

[raibebe]

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized​ who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?”   “Nope.”   “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.)   “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again.   You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now…   “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.”  You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe.   “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless.   “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.  

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

[storiesforallfandoms]

talent that runs in the family ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2128

request?: yes!

“Being rooks sister and substitute him while he recovers and slowly start to fall in love with colson”

description: she steps in to replace her brother when he is seriously injured and ends up gaining feelings for his friend

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Thanks so much for doing this (Y/N),” Rook said over the phone. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “But does Colson know that I’m...y’know...not a seasoned vet?”

“You’ll do fine.”

I refrained from reminding him that he didn’t actually answer my question.

After Rook’s accident left him out of commission for some time, he came to me to ask if I’d fill in for him. I jumped at the opportunity. Rook had taught me how to drum when I was young and, much like my big brother, it became a passion of mine. How could I turn down working with one of the biggest artists of the year, even if it were just for a short while?

Well, my nerves were definitely telling me I should’ve said no as I walked into soundcheck that day.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll call you after the soundcheck.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do great.”

I said my goodbyes and hung up. I tried not to focus on how big the venue we were playing in was as I made my way to the otherwise empty stage. I thought I was the first person to arrive until I heard someone calling my name.

“(Y/N), up here!”

I looked up to see the guys sat in a booth in the balcony. Colson was all but leaning over the railing, waving for me to join them. I had no idea how to get up there on my own, but luckily a security guard showed me the way.

The guys were eating pizza and drinking from plastic cups as if they were the ones attending the concert and not performing in it.

“Pre-show ritual,” Colson told me. “Especially when we have someone new joining the band. Sit! Have a slice!”

“Shouldn’t we be practicing?” I asked, but still sat with them. I didn’t want to completely mess up my first day.

“We have hours to practice,” one of the other guys I remembered as Slim said. “And we don’t really need to. We do this every night. A soundcheck is basically just to make sure everything is working tech wise.”

I just nodded, not wanting to point out that I hadn’t been doing this every night. I hoped that I’d have some time to figure out the songs before the shows.

Colson nudged me, bringing my attention to him. “Don’t stress. You’ll do great.”

I smiled at him, wishing I’d believe him.

After our small feast of pizza and beer in plastic glasses, we finally got to our soundcheck. I was so nervous that I kept messing up during the first song. My hands were shaking and I kept hitting the wrong drum by accident. My face was burning with embarrassment as I buried it in my hands and groaned.

Colson walked up to me, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I can get this, I know I can.”

“I know you can, too,” he said. “Just take a breath, relax. We’ll try again when you’re ready. And remember, it’s just drumming. Rook says you’re great at it.”

I smiled at him and nodded. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured myself back in my bedroom from my childhood, playing my drums super loud until my parents had to call out for me to keep it down.

When we started practicing again, it went off without a hitch. We did most of the setlist all the way through and did quick takes on the last few songs before our time was up.

I was proud of myself as the soundcheck came to an end. I was still nervous about performing during the actual show, but I felt confident enough in myself not to make too many noticeable mistakes when we actually had an audience that night.

I was walking to my car when I heard someone calling for me. I turned to see Colson running to catch up with me. Or rather he was taking long strides to catch up with me considering he was so tall.

“I told you you would do great!” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “It’s like drumming runs in your blood or something.”

I chuckled. “That’s what mom and dad always said too, but neither one of them can keep a beat to save their lives and no one else in our immediate family plays either.”

“You and Rook are the start of a long line of drummers then I guess.”

I shrugged in response. We both stood awkwardly for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. His arm was still around my shoulder and I didn’t want to pull away and make it seem like I didn’t enjoy the contact because I definitely was not complaining about it.

I guess Colson also realized that he was still touching me, though, because he pulled his arm away and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you need a run to the hotel or anything?” he asked. “We have the tour bus.”

I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks. I have my car, and besides I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet so I should probably go do that.”

“Oh, yeah you definitely should. Get some rest before the show, too. It’s a lot more physically demanding when it’s an actual show, even if you’re just sitting at a drum set the entire time. I’ll see you tonight then I guess.” He turned to walk away, but paused and turned back to add, “What were you planning on wearing tonight?”

I looked at him, confused. “Uh...this I guess.”

I was wearing a hoodie and a pair baggy jeans and my most comfortable pair of sneakers.

Colson raised an eyebrow at my outfit before looking back up at me. “I mean, it’s definitely comfy, but I would recommend something a little less...well, just less. It’s going to be hot as fuck on that stage, especially with all the lights on you and shit.”

I nodded, taking note of this as I got into my car and internally panicked a little because I didn’t know if I even had anything to wear.

~~~~~~

A few hours later, after checking into my hotel room and promptly wrecking it by throwing my clothes everywhere, I was heading back down to the lobby to meet up with the guys. We were going to the show together, which would’ve been my first tour bus ride. I couldn’t lie, I was super stoked for it.

I was the last one to the lobby. All the guys were stood around, loudly talking to one another. You’d think they were just a normal group of guys and not a group about to play a sold out show in a massive arena.

Colson spotted me first. I smiled at waved at him. His eyes widened and his jaw basically dropped, which prompted all the guys to turn. Their reactions immediately matched his as they looked me up and down.

“Rook would kill you guys if he could see you right now,” I teased.

“Damn (Y/N),” Colson dared to say first. “You look...you look hot as fuck.”

I had decided on a loose muscle shirt with a bralette underneath since the shirt showed a little more than what I was used to, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and kept on the comfortable sneakers I had been wearing earlier that day.

I giggled. “Thanks, but again, Rook would kill you for saying that. Also, it’s not anything super attractive.”

“You got a nice body,” Baze pointed out. “Anything showing it off even a little is hot.”

I could feel my face burning as I waved their comments away. “Okay, enough with this. We have a show to get to.”

We boarded the tour bus and started towards the arena. The guys were distracted amongst one another again, completely forgetting about me and my “hot outfit”. Besides Colson, who had come to sit next to me on the couch while the rest of the guys were already drinking whatever was in the mini fridge.

“Do you guys always get drunk before your shows?” I asked.

“Not always. Usually we get high,” Colson responded.

“Now that I can get behind. I’ll probably be less afraid if I’m high.”

Colson held out the joint in his hand to me. I took it and took a quick puff, the smoke immediately burning my throat and lungs as I tried to inhale it. Colson laughed as I started to cough.

“I still say you have nothing to worry about,” he told me. “You’re gonna do great tonight. You can’t even really see or hear the audience with all the lights and the inner ear pieces.”

“That’s even worse cause then I’ll just imagine how big the audience is.”

He put a hand on my leg, something I assume was just instinct for him to do to comfort someone, but the minute he made the contact I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. Colson quickly pulled his hand away and I wondered if he had felt that too.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking,” he said.

“You can if you want,” I assured him. “I wasn’t mad about it or anything.”

Colson looked at me and I realized how blue his eyes were. Rook had always made jokes about how Colson could seduce any woman with just his eyes because they were such baby blues, but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I was looking in them myself. Now I was lost, completely forgetting everyone around me as I felt myself moving closer towards him.

The bus jerked to a stop, causing Colson and I to nearly be thrown from our seats. The guys started off the bus first, running towards the entrance to the arena as I could hear the waiting fans screaming outside.

Colson stood and offered a hand to me. “It’s showtime.”

~~~~~~

After the first song went perfectly, I stopped feeling nervous. Colson was right, I couldn’t see the audience in front of me, but I could faintly hear their screams of excitement over my inner ear piece. It was weird to have it in and not only hear all of us playing, but also the crew talking backstage. It was almost distracting, but it became easy to tune them out.

During one of Colson’s talking points in the show, I reached for my water bottle to take a sip. Colson was hyping the audience up, which made me smile a little.

“Before we continue the show,” he said into his mic, “you guys may have noticed that we do not have our regular drummer tonight.”

I immediately knew what he was about to do and I wanted to hurtle my drumstick at him before he went there.

“As you’ve probably heard, Rook was in a bit of an accident and is off recovering for the time being,” he continued. “So, we decided to get some family to fill in for him for the time being. Everyone, I want to hear y’all make some noise for Rook’s little sister, (Y/N)!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Colson turned to me and waved for me to stand. I glared at him, which I hoped he could see, before standing and awkwardly smiling and waving at the audience.

“All the cool drum shit you guys have been hearing all night has been (Y/N),” Colson said as he started to approach me. “She’s a bad ass fucking drummer, and she’s a pretty fucking cool chick, too.”

I was confused where he was going with this as he came to stand next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder the way he had earlier that day after soundcheck.

“Which is why, (Y/N), I gotta ask: will you go on a date with me sometime?”

Slight embarrassment was swelling somewhere inside of me at being asked out in such a public way, but that embarrassment was overshadowed by the fuzzy feeling of excitement inside of me. I looked up at Colson, my eyes wide and a smile on my lips.

 He lowered the mic so he could privately add, “I’m being serious. I wanna take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

My words were stuck in my throat, but I was able to nod in response. The smile on Colson’s face stretched so wide that I could’ve been convinced he was the one lighting the show.

“Okay,” he said, then lifted the mic to say to his audience, “Let’s get back to the show guys!”