#|I admit some of this improvised|

[11thsshadow]

Closed Starter

@anywherexwhen like for a starter

"Well look we have here." Dark sighed as he looked the Doctor over. Apparently it didn't take much to bump into old faces. He'd probably been sent here on some SOS call, which Dark may or may not have been responsible for....

"Been about 5 centuries since I last saw that pretty little face," Dark didn't bother to hold back a grin. "Let me guess, come to ruin my fun? You lot always do that., I promise this was mostly the Daleks."

[just-jordie-things]

you want to kiss me so bad! - fushiguro megumi

word count: 3k warnings: none :) summary: "ooh you just want to kiss me" "and what about it?" more info: aged up characters! everyone works as sorcerers for jujutsu tech, friends to lovers, yuji nobara and reader are besties with a gossip groupchat a/n: thank u stef for this idea, it was so much fun to write !!! (obvi i got carried away... classic me) but this one is ofc dedicated to u @delzinrowe here's the original brainrot ___

Normally, (y/n) and Megumi made a strong pair on assignments.  Having worked and trained together since high school and having known each other a bit longer than that, they shared a deep understanding on how the other fights, and normally this gave them a hefty advantage.  Having two capable sorcerers that could read each other like the backs of their hands was a threat to any curse.  Normally.

Or in other words, as long as one of them didn’t completely abandon their plan and start improvising halfway through a fight, they were the perfect pair.

If he gave her some benefit of the doubt, Megumi could admit that (y/n) disregarding her weapon and opting to use the sheer power behind her cursed technique actually meant exorcizing the curse quicker than planned.  

However, now she’s staggering on her feet, her blade retrieved and dangling loosely in her weak grip as she slowly makes her way over to him, grimacing at the heap of dead curse she had to sidle past.  There’s a lazy but proud grin that takes over her features as she assesses the damage, realizing her workload for filing this one would be far less than previously expected, seeing how quickly she’d handled it.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Megumi scolds her as soon as she’s in close enough proximity to hear him.  

He’s pissed.  His arms are crossed, his face is twisted into a scowl, and when he pauses after his question (y/n) thinks he might actually be looking for an answer.

“Pretty quickly, I’d say” She scoffs back at him, not taking his irritation seriously for a second.

She’d say Megumi was a friend of hers, given how long they’d known each other, but she couldn’t say he ever eased up around her.  He seemed to always be wound so tight that he didn’t even relax when they weren’t exorcizing curses.  Over time she’d grown used to his reserved demeanor, and she didn’t mind it, so long as they were still the perfect duo on assignments, she could put up with anything.

Except his attitude.  It rarely made an appearance when she was around- not nearly as much when he was paired up with Yuji- but on the off chance that Megumi got cranky, as she called it, it never rubbed her the right way, and it never went over well.

And currently, Megumi’s attitude and irritation knew no bounds.

“That was reckless and risky and you know it,” He chastised, only bristling further when (y/n) rolled her eyes back at him.  “You need to take this more seriously, you can’t just go dropping your weapon in the middle of-” 

“It was fine, wasn’t it?” She huffed out, already bored of the conversation.  “It’s done, we’re not scuffed up all that bad, and honestly, you should be thanking me” 

“Thanking you?” Megumi seethes the words back at her, and the way the corner of his snarl twitches does not go unnoticed by her.

“Mhm, you’re welcome,” She muses back at him, knowing that her little smirk was going to absolutely set him over the edge.  “I’ve pretty much scored us a half day-” 

“You pretty much just ignored me completely and could’ve gotten us both hurt…” He trails off, his features softening from their contorted angry expression for just a moment as something else washes over him.  Something that makes his face pale and his lips curl into such a deep set frown (y/n) thinks it could form permanent wrinkles if he held it any longer.  “... or worse” He finishes, a bit quieter than before.

“But we didn’t,” (y/n) shrugs back at him, and his annoyance creeps right back into it’s home under his skin.  

Why couldn’t she take anything seriously, ever? 

“We’re fine, it’s done, and we’re heading home.  Why are you holding onto this?” 

He gapes back at her, pausing long enough to give her a chance to take back her idiotic statement and actually take some responsibility for her actions, but she doesn’t.  All she does is look back at him with something akin to disinterest in her eyes.  It makes his nostrils flare.

“You’re ridiculous,” He huffs, eyes screwing shut with his annoyance.  “Seriously, (y/n), one day your lack of critical thinking skills is going to put me in an early grave” 

“Early? But you’re such an old man already,” She teases back, knowing full well she was poking a sleeping bear.  “C’mon, I’ll treat you to lunch on the way back, better?” 

“You can’t be serious for even a second can you?”

“Why would I?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, self preservation?” He snaps back at her, stepping closer so she could get a proper look at the glare in his eyes.

“My job is self preservation,” (y/n) rolls her eyes again with the dismissive comment.  “Maybe if you loosened up once in a while you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time” 

“So I’m cranky for wanting us to make it out of an assignment with our heads?” 

“Looks to me like we still get ‘em” She shrugs.

“That’s it.  I’m not taking another assignment with you until you understand why acting on reckless abandon is stupid and going to get you killed one day,” He spits back at her, and for a second, her brows raise, and she actually looks shocked by his words.  “Does that make me the bad guy, (y/n)?” Megumi hoped he was finally getting through to her, he was so close to her now that when his eyes bore into hers she could hardly see anything but angry blue oceans crashing behind them.

With another roll of her eyes and a short giggle right in her face she scrunches up her nose and gives him the greatest, wittiest line she could come up with to diffuse the rising tension.

“Ooh, ‘gumi you just want to kiss me” 

What she doesn’t expect is that with all of his anger and frustration brewing, Megumi had been pushed past a brink she’d never seen him reach before.  

“And what about it?” He snaps, brows furrowed with his anger, mouth still pulled into a frown.  (y/n’s) eyes widen at the response

So in a moment of pure vexation and poor decision making skills, Megumi’s shifting gears and muttering, “Fuck it” 

Next thing she knows his hands have seized her cheeks and they’re soft and warm but so firm as he yanks her forward while dipping his head to her height.  Is he going to kiss me? Is the first stupid thought that runs through her muddled mind before his lips are slamming against hers.

Her eyes are as wide as saucers before she truly registers how soft and warm and pleasant his lips feel against hers, and she finds herself giving into the whirlwind moment sooner than expected.  Her lashes flutter before falling shut, and it seems that she’s just as soon floating ten feet in the air, lifted by an invisible force.  One foot pops into the air, the other extending on to the tips of her toes to better reach him, sending her hands against his chest.

He rendered her breathless in the matter of instant, which she blamed on both the surprise and the passion behind his kiss.  She can vaguely make out the feeling of his hands moving from her jaw into her hair, but just as his fingertips graze the nape of her neck and she hums in delight.

That little noise was her downfall, because as soon as the sweet sound hits Megumi’s ears, he’s pulled out of his reverie and instantly pulls away from the kiss.

(y/n) has to gasp for air once they’re parted, but it takes her a minute to gather her senses and open her eyes.

Megumi’s frozen, his hands still cupped around the back of her head, his lips parted but no words or air was coming out.  All he can do is stare at her with the shock of what he’d done sinking in.

No words are exchanged.

She stares at him expectantly, waiting for something, anything, but it doesn’t come.  Megumi releases her before putting as large of a step of distance between.  If he won’t say anything, she knows she has to… but all she can do is gape as he takes another step away and quickly pulls out his phone to check on their ride back to Jujutsu Tech.

It stays silent as they wait for their car.

Even their exchange with their assigned manager is uncomfortable.

With Megumi still choosing the silent route, she’s left no other choice.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and rapidly begins to type.

[y/n]: S.O.S EMERGENCY !!!!!!

[yuwuji]: OMG DID U DIE ON UR MISSION D:

[y/n]: NO WORSE [y/n]: MEGUMI KISSED ME

[nocapybara]: W H A T

[yuwuji]: oh shit :D

[nocapybara]: what happened [nocapybara]: did you kiss back

[yuwuji]: was it good???

The incoming texts from her go-to groupchat for panic spamming shot up so fast she’s barely finished reading one before another appears on her screen.  At least it was serving the purpose of keeping her distracted in the tense car ride.

[y/n]: he got mad at me 

[yuwuji]: aww again??? :(

[y/n]: and then i said ‘you wanna kiss me so bad’ and he was all ‘so what?’ abt it and then he just…. fuckin kissed me

[nocapybara]: oh shit he actually made a move????

[yuwuji]: damn that’s actually such a good line 

[nocapybara]: no it’s not, megumi’s just dumb  [nocapybara]: and u didn’t answer my question (y/n/n)!!

[yuwuji]: or mine! >:3

[y/n]: i might’ve kissed back a little… [y/n]: and it might’ve been…. the best kiss of my whole life

[nocapybara]: how much is a little??

[yuwuji]: aww megumi is a good kisser <3 good 4 him

[y/n]: uhh my foot might’ve popped up like in the movies 

[nocapybara]: oh shiiiiiit so it was a KISS kiss

[y/n]: yeah. it was a kiss kiss.

[yuwuji]: and u kissed back?? are u guys boyfriend girlfriend now??

[y/n]: he didn’t say anything after

[nocapybara]: WUT???

[yuwuji]: HEH???

[y/n]: I KNOW THATS WHY IM FREAKING OUT U GUYS ITS SO AWKWARD WTF DO I DO HE DIDNT SAY ANYTHING AND NOW IM STUCK IN THIS CAR WITH HIM HELP MEEEE

[nocapybara]: HES A COWARD !!!

[yuwuji]: did you say anything??

[y/n]: no!! what am i supposed to say??? he kissed me his first!! this is HIS FAULT!!!

[nocapybara]: damn right!!

[yuwuji]: no!! :( [yuwuji]: maybe he’s just shy and doesn’t know what to say

[nocapybara]: sthu he’s an adult, he can voice is widdle feelings >:/

[y/n]: i don’t think he has feelings for me.  I think it was a mistake.   [y/n]: idk what’s worse tbh

[yuwuji]: … r u sure ? 

[noapybara]: what do you know.

[yuwuji]: no nothing i just meant he’s shy and awkward

[y/n]: VERY AWKWARD YEAH I GOT THAT

[nocapybara]: yuji ur his best friend.  u definitely know something.  spill. does he have the hots for (y/n/n) or not

[yuwuji]: hey i don’t spill secrets!!!!

[nocapybara]: SO THERE ARE SECRETS TO SPILL THEN????

With every new message, (y/n) felt her heart pounding in her chest a little harder.  She hoped the radio was loud enough to drown out the sound of it.  They were still a couple of minutes away from Jujutsu Tech, and she needed a solution by the time they got there.  She had a feeling that if she didn’t come up with a plan and fast, then Megumi would continue to ignore her, and it would never be brought up again.

[yuwuji]: well… i guess it’s not a secret that he talks about her a lot… 

It was easy to mistake Megumi’s silence for disinterest- and at first, he would say that he was ignoring the entire thing.  He didn’t have an ounce of desire to bring it up in front of present company, but after a few minutes of riding in silence, he thought maybe ignoring it forever was his best option.  It was just an accident, people caught up in the moment all the time, right? What was one little… perfect… kiss anyways? 

Suddenly watching all the trees passing by the window made his stomach twist with nausea, and Megumi had to redirect his gaze to the back of the headrest in front of him.

It wasn’t right of him to kiss her, if he really thought about it.  He’d never even confessed to her- and to just kiss her like that? Megumi could barely recognize himself.  He was never so brazen, he was always the reserved, calculated one.  He was the one that thought things through before making a final decision, he was never brash, never bold, and he would never make a move on someone without telling them properly how he felt…

His stomach lurched again.  Was he getting carsick? 

He’d never really considered telling (y/n) about his feelings for her before.  Sure, he’d known for a while that she wasn’t like the others, she was different, special, held in a different, more secluded place in his heart away from all the others.  If he was being honest with himself, he’d probably felt that way since high school.  The problem was Megumi was always realistic when evaluating his options, so when his feelings for her were fully realized, he’d weighed his options and decided that the potential of losing a friend and a phenomenal partner over a confession would be pathetic.

So he packed his feelings up in a box and left it in the back of his mind.  And that box would just have to stay there.

The ping of his phone drew him out of his spiraling, stomachache-inducing thoughts.

[itadori]: yo u kissed (y/n)?? hell yeah!!!

It felt like his heart imploded, and all of the air in his lungs was sucked out before he could try to gasp to preserve it.  His eyes nearly bore a hole through the screen of his phone before his head shot up, peeking at the front seat where (y/n) sat, typing away on her phone.  He couldn’t see who she was texting, but he didn’t need to, because the recipient of her texts just told on himself.

Now he was sure he was going to be sick.  He made a mental note to pack anti-nausea for the car rides after assignments.

When they finally got back to Jujutsu Tech, (y/n) was swift in her exit of the car and stride towards the building.  She not only didn’t utter a word to him, but she didn’t cast him a second glance.  Her eyes were glued to her phone and her walking pace was, well, she was nearly jogging away.

He could just let her walk away, accept that the both of them would mutually forget about the whole thing.

“(y/n)!” Megumi had to call after her as he broke into a light jog in order to catch up.  She glanced over her shoulder, and her speed walking slowed to a normal pace as he caught up to her.

She’s quick to lock her phone and tuck it back into her pocket.

Megumi lets out a sigh as he gives in to instinct.

“Look, I didn’t mean to do that, and I’m sorry, alright?” 

She stops in her tracks then, effectively halting him too, but it doesn’t seem like it’s because she’s suddenly inclined to focus all of her attention on conversing with him.

“Are you trying to say you kissed me by accident?” She frowns.

“Well, I guess-” 

“Because that’s not a thing,” She interrupts him.  “You kissed me, consciously, and, like, for a good minute-” 

“But I didn’t mean to, you practically dared me!” Megumi argued, only making her scoff and let out a laugh, humored by his ridiculous argument.

“Who cares? You kissed me!” She reminds him with a tilt of her head.  “Are you saying if I challenged you to jump off a bridge would you do that too?” 

“Well maybe the bridge isn’t that tall” Megumi refuted, before frowning and rolling his eyes at how stupid he sounded.  There was no taking that one back, (y/n) was already laughing.

“Just admit it, Megumi.  Some part of you wanted to kiss me, so you did” 

“Not until you admit that you asked me to, technically” 

“Fine! I did ask you to! Happy?” 

“Delighted, because I wanted to!” 

“Well if you’ve wanted to so bad then why are you yelling at me and not kissing me!?”  

“I don’t know!” 

With a simultaneous groan of frustration, the pair don’t waste anymore time arguing before acting.  She all but throws herself against him but Megumi’s just as swift at wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her off her feet and at a height that gives him easy reach to slam his lips against hers.  Every once of passion he’d poured into their last kiss is revisited in full with this one too, and (y/n) starts to get the idea that every kiss is going to sweep her off her feet all the same.

With her arms wound around his neck to better keep herself secure, she hopes that he feels every bit of electricity that she does.

And he does, he’s just a bit too preoccupied trying to balance taking in oxygen and kissing her like his life depended on it to communicate that to her now.  At least in words.  Wandering hands filled in the gaps for now.

It took them long enough, after all, there would be time to talk about it later. ___

a/n: i imagine the groupchat lights tf up after the second one :3

xoxo ~ jordie

[theosbaby]

lost in the fire

theodore nott x fem!reader x pansy parkinson

masterlist

SUMMARY ! you said you might be into girls, you said you're going through a phase... well, maybe you can bring a friend.

WARNINGS ! reader is bisexual, sub!reader, dom!theo, dom!pansy, SMUT, threesome (fmf), tribbing, oral sex (male and fem receiving), p in v, praising, dirty talk, unprotected sex. this is the first time i write a threesome, hope it doesn't suck.

NOTES ! english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. first time posting here, hope you like it!

inspired by 'lost in the fire' by gesaffelstein, the weeknd

it was a friday night. slytherin party night. best fucking night of the month. the common room was crowded, everyone was there, including some students from other houses, and you were dancing with pansy in the improvised dance floor. both of you were sweaty and a bit drunk as you rubbed your bodies together to the rhythm of music, teasing and seducing each other.

meanwhile, a couple of hungry eyes watched you from afar; theo nott was sitting in one of the couches, glass of whisky in hand, as he analysed every movement you both made. theo had been trying to get in your pants for months now, but you kept rejecting him because you had been having some doubts about your sexuality since you started being friends with pansy and you realised that you liked her as more than friends. "i'm going through a phase" you had told him, but theo wasn't going to give up that easily; he was determined to fuck you.

seeing you dancing so provocatively with his best friend ignited something in him, so he finished the rest of his whisky in one gulp and stood up from the couch, deciding to approach you confidently.

"hey there, beautiful," he whispered in your ear, pressing his body to your back while you kept dancing with pansy.

you jumped slightly at theo's touch, surprised by his sudden appearance. you turned around slightly to face him, still holding onto pansy's waist as you said, "oh... hey, theo..." your voice was breathless, and you glanced over at pansy, who grinned back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

theo and pansy were childhood friends, so she obviously knew about the guy's feelings for you. and she also knew that those feelings were reciprocated, even though you had never admitted it out loud. they both liked you and you liked them back, and she had no problem with sharing, so she pushed you against theo's body, sandwiching you between their bodies while she winked at her best friend.

you felt theo wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his free hand running through your hair. he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"you look incredible tonight," he said softly, before kissing your cheek gently.

he couldn't help but notice how well you and pansy complemented each other, the contrast between your personalities creating a perfect balance. and he wanted desperately to be part of that.

"dance with me," he asked you.

you hesitated, but nodded slowly, biting your lip nervously as you kept holding onto pansy's waist. you felt a thrill of excitement run through your body when you ground your ass against theo, moving sensually to the music. your eyes were fixed in pansy's green ones the whole time, feeling the heat emanating from their bodies as the three of you started dancing together.

the air became thick with desire in no time. pansy ran her fingers through your hair, pulling it back lightly to kiss your neck gently. at the same time. theo's hands roamed over your curves, feeling every contour of your body underneath your tight black dress. he could see the way your pupils dilated as you turned slightly to look at him, and he knew you were getting aroused. he pressed himself even closer to you, feeling the heat of your bodies melding into one.

"i wanna fuck you so bad," he whispered in your ear, pressing his hardening erection against your ass, "and so does pansy, you know?"

you blushed deeply at theo's words, feeling your heart rate increase as you tried to process what he was suggesting.

"you have us wrapped around your pretty little finger, love..." he kept talking, making your body flinch at his words.

"do i?" you inquired with faked innocence as you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

"oh you know damn well, baby."

you looked at pansy almost instantly when you heard her soft voice and you saw her smiling playfully back at you.

"so what are you gonna do about it?" you asked teasingly, looking between them with doe eyes full of curiosity and anticipation.

pansy reached out to stroke your cheek affectionately, before standing on her tiptoes to press a passionate kiss to your lips. you gasped in her mouth as you felt her lips against yours.

theo watched you both closely, his cock stirring in his pants as he imagined the three of you naked and tangled up between his bedsheets. he could hardly believe his luck; you were finally willing to have sex with him... adding pansy to the mix just made him harder.

"why don't we get out of here so we can make you feel good, love?" he suggested, his voice low and grave with need. "would you like that?" he asked you, placing some wet kisses on your neck as you kissed pansy.

you pulled away from her kiss reluctantly, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. you glanced at theo, biting your lip as you thought about what he was suggesting. you didn't want to make things awkward between them, since you knew they were such close friends, but at the same time you couldn't deny the thrill of being with both of them at the same time.

"yeah... i want that," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared deeply into his eyes.

"my dorm," theo replied simply, leading the way towards the boys dormitories without any further discussion.

when you arrived at his room, he unlocked the door quickly, pushing it open and gesturing for you and pansy to enter ahead of him. once inside, he closed the door behind him and locked it before turning back to the both of you, finding you already kissing again. "fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, watching closely as he started approaching you.

you felt theo's body pressing against your back as pansy devoured your mouth, slipping her playful tongue between your parted lips. his hands started roaming over your body and you moaned softly against pansy's lips, your own hands exploring her slim body while you pulled her closer to you.

after a few seconds you broke the kiss and turned to face theo, not wanting to make him feel left out; you grasped his neck and pulled him into a kiss too. he fucking moaned at the contact and the sound made you feel weak on the knees as you tangled your fingers in his soft wavy hair.

pansy started lifting your dress over your hips slowly, placing wet kisses on your shoulders and neck while her fingers caressed your thighs. when she exposed your black lace thong, she started toying with the hem of it teasingly, making your breath hitch.

theo pulled away from you reluctantly, gripping your dress to take it off completely. you stood almost fully naked and flushed in front of his hungry gaze, which wandered all over your bare form.

he grasped your jaw, lifting your head so that your eyes met his as he pressed against your body, muttering, "so fucking beautiful."

he captured your lips in another filthy kiss as pansy cupped your pussy over your soaked underwear, causing you to gasp in surprise.

"oh my god," you whined in between kisses.

you parted your legs to allow the brunette to touch you as she pleased.

"she's so wet," she said in a whisper that the both of you could perfectly hear and theo groaned.

"bed, now," he ordered, pulling away from you.

while you made your way towards his bed, you could hear the rustling of their clothing as it hit the floor. you sat on the edge of the mattress and pansy was the first one to approach you, already naked.

"You have a beautiful body, pans," you complimented her, opening your legs for her.

you saw her smiling as she positioned between your spread thighs, placing a little peck on your lips. you grabbed one of her breasts, toying with her perky little nipple until it hardened and she let out a soft moan, her eyes closing and head falling back.

pansy shifted slightly, intertwining your legs with hers so that your pussies were pressed against each other, and she ground against you, grasping at your hips to hold you close. you moaned softly, feeling a surge of pleasure shoot through your body as your cunts rubbed together through your underwear. immediately, your hips bucked against pansy's, wanting to create more friction between your clits.

"mmm... feels so good," you said breathlessly, getting wetter by the second.

your gaze drifted to theo, who was watching you both intently, his cock straining against his boxers as he listened to your breathy moans. you watched him approaching you, unable to hold back any longer. he kneeled on the bed next your body, taking his thick and long shaft out of his underwear; your eyes widened at his size.

"gonna be a good girl and suck me off, love?" he growled lowly, his voice rough with desire.

he brushed the tip of his cock against your lips, while pansy and you kept tribbing, and you nodded eagerly, opening your mouth and taking theo's cock in your mouth greedily.

you wrapped your hand around his base and squeezed him tightly, taking him as far as you could without gagging. then, you started bobbing your head up and down while you used your tongue to tease the sensitive head of his dick.

you looked up at him with a playful expression in your eyes and theo groaned at the sight, feeling his cock slide inside your warm, wet mouth. he ran his hand through your hair, pulling at it slightly to guide your movements.

"that's it, love," he whispered hoarsely, "such a good girl."

pansy moaned loudly at the sight, grasping hard at your thigh, and also praised you, "you look so pretty sucking theo's cock, baby."

theo glanced over at pansy, seeing her grinding slowly against your pussy, your panties damp with your combined juices. he couldn't help but think how incredibly erotic the scene was.

you hummed around theo's shaft, feeling a tingling in your core as pansy pulled your panties to the side and kept grinding against your bare pussy, her hand moving to caress your swollen clit.

"mmm... i want to see you come, baby," she whispered seductively, "i want to watch you cum for us."

theo groaned louder, feeling his own release approaching as he took in the sight of your soaked cunt pulsing with need; he was so close to cumming, but he managed to hold back.

your cheeks hollowed as you continued to suck theo's dick, despite your need to pull back and moan freely, feeling your climax building up inside of you. you kept sucking him until your breathing became so uneven that you felt like couldn't breathe with his dick on your mouth and you released it with a loud pop.

"so close... i'm gonna cum" you warned, your walls contracting around nothing.

theo leaned in to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking at it and making you moan. you looked up at pansy with a pleading expression in you eyes and she smiled, rubbing her thumb harder against your clit until your were coming.

"that's it, let it out, love," theo whispered with his mouth pressed to your breast, his fingers caressing the other one.

you came hard, letting out a loud drawn-out moan while you gasped for air, feeling your pussy spasm violently and your whole body trembling from pleasure. pansy came right after you with a loud cry, her back arching as you both tried to keep the movements of your hips to ride out your orgasms, finally, she collapsed onto your chest, her breathing ragged and her heart racing.

theo watched closely, his cock throbbing at the sight of two beautiful women writhing in pleasure beside him. he leaned in to press a kiss on your lips, you returned it lazily as you recovered from the aftershocks of your climax.

"gonna fuck you now," theo muttered between kisses, "you want that, pretty girl?"

"yeah." you nodded eagerly.

you reached for pansy's face, cupping her cheek to pull her into the kiss too, the feeling of both of their tongues and lips brushing against yours made you whimper. you couldn't help but smile, pulling back to watch them kissing while you caressed their faces; the sight only made you wetter.

it was theo who broke the contact after a few seconds, pupils dilated while he grabbed your hips and placed you higher on the bed, your head falling against the pillow. you spread your legs wider instinctively to make room for him as he positioned between them. his hands moved up your thighs, slowly caressing your skin, until he reached your thong and started pulling it down; you lifted your hips and closed your legs momentarily to allow him to take it off.

"such a pretty little pussy," he said, sliding the head of his cock between your slick folds.

you whimpered softly at the action and bit your lower lip, your hips buckled.

"you gonna eat pansy's cunt while i fuck you, yeah?" he commanded in a tender voice, still rubbing his tip against your puffy clit.

you couldn't form any coherent sentence, so you limited yourself to nod in agreement. then pansy approached you, placing a brief kiss on your lips before straddling your face. you grasped at her thighs, lowering her until she was sitting on your mouth and you sucked her pussy greedily, making her moan as your tongue lapped at her clit. you felt theo slipping one finger inside of you slowly and you hummed against pansy.

"so tight and wet for me, huh." his words made you tighter around his digit. "gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart."

he inserted another finger next to the first one to stretch you out, curling them to rub your g-spot. his actions had you moaning repeatedly as you practically made out with pansy's pussy.

"please," you begged, growing inpatient; you could feel your juices dripping onto his bedding.

the sound of your voice was muted by pansy's flesh, but he understood you perfectly and decided to comply. you felt him slowly pushing his cock inside your tight pussy, stretching you out until he was fully seated in your wetness; you heard him moaning loudly.

"god, your pussy is fucking heaven..." he groaned.

you whimpered against pansy's flesh and grasped hard at her thighs, licking a long stripe from her entrance down to her clit, capturing it between your lips to suck on it. she kept moaning and squirming and you knew she was close.

"doing such a good job eating pansy out, love," he muttered as he started thrusting into you, setting a slow pace at first. "gonna make her cum on your pretty face?"

you hummed in delight as you felt his cock hitting all the right spots, your hips bucking to try and match his rhythm.

"fuck yes!" you heard pansy moan while she ground her hips faster against your tongue, her legs started shaking underneath your touch.

you couldn't see anything since her body was blocking your view, but you could hear the sound of wet kisses and theo's skin slapping against yours as he quickened the rhythm.

pansy came with a series of moans while she rode your face, body trembling and head falling back. then, she collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily; her cheeks were flushed.

you looked up at theo, lips swollen and glistening with pansy's juices as you took in the sight that was thedore nott towering over your body while he fucked you. you wrapped your legs around his hips and he leaned in to press a passionate kiss to your lips, tangling his fingers in your hair.

"i've wanted this for so long..." he groaned in your mouth, breaking the kiss.

he left a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and towards your neck. your bodies were so close together that his pelvis rubbed your clit with each thrust, sending shivers down your spine. you grasped at his hair strands, forcing him back up to keep kissing him.

"fuck," you whimpered between kisses, "wish i've let you fuck me sooner."

he chuckled at your admission. "yeah?" he bit your lip teasingly, looking into your eyes with a playful gleam in his. "well, guess we'll have to make up for the lost time."

you nodded eagerly, moaning loudly when you felt pansy's hand slipping between your bodies to start toying with your swollen clit; for a moment, you had forgotten she was there too.

your orgasm started building up due to combination of the stimulation on your clit and his dick rubbing your g-spot.

"i'm gonna cum," you told him, your pussy clamping around him like a vice.

"go ahead, love," he encouraged you, "cum all over my cock."

he watched closely as your pussy engulfed his dick and the sight almost sent him over the edge, but he managed to hold back until you were coming around his cock with a loud cry, muscles tightening and legs shaking. the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him was all it took for him to spill inside you, filling you with his cum as he let out the prettiest whimpers.

"fuck, theo." you panted out, falling limp onto the mattress.

he placed a series of kisses on your forehead and temple as you both came down from your highs.

"yeah, i know." he chuckled while he pulled out, laying down next to you.

the three of you laid there in silence for a few minutes, completely spent and satisfied, as you cuddled.

"hottest thing i've ever done," you whispered, your gaze wandering between them both, "we should make this a habit."

you heard them laughing affectionately at your comment... they couldn't help but agree with you, though.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰CHARLES LECLERC.

xv. he was sunshine, i was midnight rain

— the one where you broke his heart 'cause he was nice.

❝𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘖𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥?❞ —𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐘, 𝟏𝟑.

warnings: angst, not proofread and pls go easy on me i'm coming out of the worst block everrrrrrrrrr. our girlie is making poor choices pls hate her a bit for it, the last bit is charles centered. 2.23k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

by Tom Gill

The worst time to have a carreer on Public Relations is when your client is as unhinged as y/n y/ln has proven to be. Many people, myself included, can't help but feel sorry for whoever is on her team because there's only so much someone can do to put out a fire when the person burning is the same one who keeps lighting the matches.

y/n just can't stop messing up, can she? Just when her fans thought she would rise from the ashes with an outstanding movie deal, the 'Queen of Romcoms' has to go ahead and mess things up by proving that people who aren't blinded by her master manipulations are right: y/n y/ln is in fact a cheating snake.

The Deuxmoi post talking about an actress involved with a Formula 1 driver and her presence at the Italian Grand Prix last Sunday are enough confirmation of the fact. y/n is not ashamed to be seen on broad daylight with the guy that broke off her engagement.

Don't kill the messenger, y/n fans. Aidan Kim and Victoria Presley did warn you.

New York, United States, September 10th.

It feels like you've just finished unpacking when you find yourself throwing stuff in a suitcase once again. There is little to none excitement in you as you decide between a couple of blouses and recite Amy's lines outloud inside your messy apartment.

"Wait—that's not right," you huff, unaware that you've let the blouse you like the least inside the suitcase. The lines slip your mind like butter on a pan. Honestly, you've started to wonder if several of your braincells died in the past month. Nothing other than 'I want to be great or nothing' seem to have stuck. So much for how well that single line applies to your life.

"'It looks like it's never done a day of work in its life'," you mutter, picking the script up from the dining table. You have studied it a million times, gone through lines and rehearsals and a thousand other things. You have called Greta and Timothée and Saoirse and they have called you on their own accord to agree the accurate tones of scenes and interactions, and yet you are sure you are still going to mess everything up once the camera starts rolling. "God, help me."

The clock on your phone tells you it's 9:30 a.m. and you are nowhere being done with your luggage. Also, Charles' plane lands in less than an hour and you are not making it to the airport in time. He has a busy month race-wise and he has still made some time to come to New York before you leave for Boston in a couple days and you are both turned upside down with the Asian race-tour.

There is one reason—and one reason only— that Mildred has agreed that you should have these two days off. That reason is not Charles Leclerc, given the fact that she has grown to hate him even if she can admit, albeit to herself only, that he has done nothing wrong. You are supposed to be preparing more interviews and then a prolonged stage of silence while you focus on filming Little Women. Mildred has a whole plan laid out and that is another script you have to follow. No improvisations though, you have been warned.

─────────

Time has a funny way of passing by when it comes to Charles and yourself. Your whole relationship feels contained in a moment and also in a century, and every time you see each other again, even after just a few days a whole other bubble of time seems to have passed. You think it's Charles' way of making it feel special, making you feel special by looking at you like you're a part of him he's constantly missing when you're not right next to him. A 'lovesick fool' you have heard him been nicknamed by people who try to be nice, at least a little bit. Others sneer at how they can't wait for the 'honeymoon phase' to be over.

And it's precisely the way he looks at you before he's crushing you against his chest that makes you hold your tongue for the rest of the day. You cannot bring yourself to tell him the plan the people around you have made without asking for your input—much lesser his— to salvage your career and your reputation.

It nags at you how stupid you're being. Maybe some part of your brain did die between Sunday and today, but you are certain you won't be able to bear the disappointment in Charles' eyes when he finds out what you agreed to.

This visit is less touristy than the last time Charles came to New York. He's leaving tomorrow and you, the day after for Boston, so you want to bask in each other's company as much as possible. You go to a cupcake place and take pictures, all while Charles re-tells everything people have said about his win on Sunday. He's become even more of the Golden Boy he already was in the eyes of Ferrari fans, and you feel love swell in your chest at the fact. You love that he's loved, there's nothing he deserves more than to be loved.

"Will you show me the script now?" Charles asks, taking his light jacket off as he crosses the door to your apartment. A slight feeling of embarrassment flashes through you when you focus on the different disasters around the house but Charles either doesn't notice or doesn't mind as he makes himself comfortable on the couch where several pairs of your shoes are scattered.

"I think it would violate my contract somehow if I did," you chuckle, noticing that your travel kit toothbrush and toiletries are on the coffee table. "I was sure I had those in my luggage already," you groan, pointing at them.

Charles laughs, patting the spot next to him and motioning you over excitedly. "Can I see it please?" he elongates the 'e', with a mocking puppy eye look on his face. "Read me some of your favorite lines," he's suggested so several times and you refuse him every single one. It's not like he hasn't seen you act, Charles admitted in one of your phone calls to have binged all of your movies.

"I can't," you fall into the couch next to him, wrapping one arm around his neck. "You make me nervous, it won't turn out good."

"You see me work all the time," he grumbles against your hair, "And you too, make me nervous. You're being unfair."

"Oh, booohooo," you mock, nuzzling into his neck. "Your job is far more exciting than me reciting lines."

"It is not—"

His complaint is cut short as you kiss him, once, twice, so many times you lose count and he kisses you back between snickers and fake complaints about how there's only so much his heart can take before it explodes. It's so cheesy it makes you both cringe and burst with laughter before starting the scene all over again.

A re-run of a Foodnetwork reality show is playing in the background when you open your eyes after a short-lived nap. Charles is swiping through his phone with his other arm around you, the light in the apartment has faded almost completely giving way to late evening.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" you ask pushing off of Charles' body and sit and rub your eyes. "Or should we order something?"

He locks his phone and stretches, still laying on his back. "Whatever you want to do, soleil."

You two are way too comfortable in your little cocoon to mess it up by going outside just to eat. Charles smiles, knowing you've already made your mind up.

You argue on the couch for ten minutes about what take-out to get and after you've finally placed the order on your phone, you get up to make some space the dining table.

"Here," you throw the bunch of papers at him softly. The 'Little Women' script is anotated from page one, and it is true that you probably shouldn't be showing it to him, but it doesn't really hurt anyone either. "Not a word, do you hear me, Leclerc?"

Charles laughs before crossing his heart with his index finger, eager to read about your next big thing.

You throw more stuff on your open suitcase, wipe the table down and look through your kitchen for an unopened bottle of wine while Charles reads and occassionally shouts something from the living room. He's so genuinely excited about seeing you bring Amy to life on the silver screen.

"Gooodddd, what's taking them so long?" you whine as you return to the living room. The 'your order is in progress' notification still alive on the screen of your phone. Charles doesn't seem to mind as he makes space for you to sit with him again.

"Couch potato," you stick your tongue out at him, placing your feet on his lap after reaching for the TV remote. You surf through a few channels, trying to remember what the name was of that crime documentary you wanted to watch on Netflix.

"...y/n y/ln making headlines again with her messy love life," the E! Show that's starting has your picture and Charles' next to each other.

Charles' eyes move from the last pages of the script to the TV and then to you. "Change the channel, love," he says as he reaches for the remote himself.

"Yeah," you click on the Netflix logo on the remote and the screen goes black as your phone pings, letting you know your food has been delivered to your apartment complex's lobby.

─────────

There is something beautiful about domestic life with Charles even if it just exists for scarce moments like this. The smell of coffee and the sound of his humming lull you into a peaceful state of mind as you prepare breakfast before once again leaving for the airport.

Messages from Mildred, three or four already, remind you that you must be ready for the list of things she had also reminded you of a million times already.

'how did he take it?' you read from your phone, Mildred again.

You look at Charles and open your mouth. Maybe now that he's leaving in a couple hours you'll work up the courage to tell him about how Mildred is staging your break-up right this second. Which means nothing, right? Keeping it lowkey is for the best, even for him.

Right?

You open your mouth and close it several times looking at your disheveled boyfriend and his sweet smile.

"What?"

"There's something I have to tell you," you breathe out, screwing the already too tight cap on the empty bottle of orange juice that rests on the table.

"So tell me," Charles' smile widens as he puts both elbows on the table, ready to listen.

"I'm really going to miss you." you chuckle awkwardly, and there is momentary gesture, barely perceptible, in Charles' face that tells you he knows that's not what you really wanted to say.

"Me too soleil, but we'll figure it out," he's reaching for your hand with a weaker smile on his face this time.

AFTER months of speculation about the nature of y/n's relationship with Formula 1 Pilot Charles Leclerc, a spokesperson for the actress has made an exclusive statemen for PEOPLE.

"They have never been romantically-involved," the source said. "Their friendship is undeniable but there's nothing more than that."

y/ln and Leclerc have been linked since April and spotted in public together several times, including at the Italian Grand Prix on September 3rd.

"Since becoming friendly they've ran into each other at several events," the source continues, "They are often surrounded by friends they have in common, such as Matilde Bassi and Timothée Chalamet. y/n knows it's too soon to put herself out there romantically."

Despite a rumor surfacing on an online gossip site that they took a romantic vacation together in Greece, y/n's spokesperson tells PEOPLE that "pictures are often released without context to create controversy."

Charles Leclerc has been blind-sided. Which, to be fair, in his career field is something he should be used to. But the feeling doesn't compare to being blind-sided by the person who is supposed to be your partner.

Charles understands, he always understands, or at least tries his best to do so. But this time, it really feels like he's reached his limit. It's not even about how he's become even more of the laughing-stock within his group of friends about how he's been parading y/n around and defending her honor for her to call their relationship 'casual' rather than not even getting a heads-up from her about the matter.

"Is there something you would like to talk about now, y/n?" Charles questions, trying his best not to let the anger flow into his voice.

Charles thinks the worst part is how long she stays silent, but it's not even close to what comes next.

"I tried telling you," she lies.

"When?" there is no point in hiding his anger anymore, even if he doesn't want to fight. This is one of those unavoidable things you expect to hit somewhere down the road in the relationship, not a month into it.

"I TRIED!" she repeats, unable to come up with any argument in her defense.

"You never tried! See that's the thing about you, you just wait for things to happen and then you 'try' to deal with the mess!" His accent is thickening with every word.

"If it bothers you so much—"

"What bothers me," he cuts her off, "Is how you cannot trust me with these things? What did you think I would say?!"

"Exactly what you're saying now, Charles," she sounds defeated and it manages to irk him an extra mile. "You don't understand—"

"I don't understand how you still care more about what people are going to say than about talking to me. I'm your boyfriend!"

There is another long silence during which he can hear faint yelling in the background of her side of the line. On his side of the world it's nearly midnight.

"I've been thinking," y/n nearly gasps, "That maybe we rushed things."

"Rushed things?" his voice is so small now he wonders if it can really travel half-way through the world.

"I— Maybe Mildred is right— I wasn't, I am not ready for a relationship." She stammers, and Charles can picture her pinching her thigh in that nervous tick she can't quite manage to get rid of.

"You can't even take responsibility for your own feelings?"

It's always Aidan, Victoria, Mildred... a handy list of people to put part of the blame on for when she doesn't want to say things herself.

And Charles accepts it. He accepts her messes because he wants her, but now apparently y/n doesn't even want him back.

"What do you even mean by that?" y/n scoffs.

"Can you even be honest with me, then? Say that it is you who doesn't want this relationship, y/n, don't put it on—"

"I'M NOT PUTTING IT ON ANYONE! THIS HAS BEEN A MISTAKE SINCE WE LEFT MYKONOS I—"

Charles didn't want to fight and now there is nothing to fight for, anyway. So he hangs the phone up, because sometimes things end in silence.

It's three am, and Charles Leclerc just got his heart broken.

─── team principal radio: ❝why hello there, i don't even know if you remember this fic but it is for my own peace of mind that I have to finish it!!! also i love these characters a lot, even when they're acting so selfish and stupid—looking at you y/n. Thank you if you are still here and like me, had to reread it to get to this chapter.❞

✰ paddock club members: NO PADDOCK CLUB THIS TIME BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF ANYONE STILL WANTS TO BE TAGGED.

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to think a little about Blitz's self-perception with regard to his lack of education/sophistication. In my opinion, HB gives us a very accurate portrayal of what it feels like to navigate relationships when you're a person with a long history of feeling like you're never good enough ("I can always do better").

Let's start with his friendship with Moxxie, though like a lot of my posts, it will find its way back to stolitz.

Moxxie doesn't necessarily have more formal education than Blitz. I mean . . . he likely had the economic resources growing up, but I don't think Crimson seems like the kind of parent to prioritize education. Besides an education in violence. I assume that both Blitz and Moxxie had some basic education as kids, but the difference is that Moxxie likes "high culture(ish)" things like musicals and bow ties, enjoys knowing details about history, and probably reads for fun. He's also the kind of ". . . um actually . . ." friend who can make even a secure person feel a little stupid. Not that Blitz doesn't sometimes need to be called out, but Moxxie does seem to take some joy in correcting him.

And yes, Blitz bullies Moxx and calls his junk tiny and tells him to eat a salad, but like . . . it's pretty obvious that to some extent, Blitz is covering up for feeling inferior to Moxxie on some level.

We see how Blitz really feels about this in Truth Seekers.

Borrowed observation from excellent reaction youtuber Omn1media: When Blitz hallucinates Moxxie lecturing him, Moxxie goes really hard specifically on the insults to Blitz's intelligence. Moxxie's speech is also much more rambly/laced with figurative language than it is in their real (non-imagined) interactions.

We can see from Blitz's face in these scenes that these comments really get to him. Of course they do- he's making them up in his own nightmare.

"Foolish flights of fancy" is the rest of the caption there . . ."

He's very upset by the idea that he's really inferior to Moxxie- under all of the bravado, he's deeply insecure. It probably doesn't help that the truth gas made him admit that he didn't like the musical that Moxx recommended. Yes, I know that was a Cats joke, but also, Blitz bothered to lie, and he doesn't seem allergic to hurting Moxxie's feelings, so I think he wanted to pretend to "get" the "higher art" that Moxxie likes.

Okay so if Moxxie (with an essentially equivalent status and education) manages to unintentionally make Blitz feel stupid and uncultured, how does this translate when Blitz falls in love with Stolas, who IS objectively very high status and very well educated and DOES speak in "fancy rich people" language?

Oh. Right. The pedestal, the impossibility, and all of that.

I'm not saying that Hell's strict hierarchy doesn't have a lot to do with how Blitz perceives a real relationship between himself and Stolas as impossible- it absolutely does. And so does his history of failed relationships and heaping backpack of trauma. But also, the education/sophistication piece is there, and it's major.

I'm on the fence about whether Blitz actually sees himself as stupid or is just worried about being perceived that way by others. He obviously knows he's very good at the work he does, and that takes both a certain level of strategic thinking AND some very brilliant improvisation. I think he knows this. But he also knows he'll never . . . let's say, be the best read person in the room (if you want to know my thoughts on Blitz and literacy, click here- but short answer, I think he's quite literate but also dyslexic).

I think that like many real people who are kind of out of the box in this way (disrupted education and/or neurodivergence) he's simultaneously aware that he's very intelligent AND deeply insecure about being stupid or having others devalue his kind of intelligence.

[moociaoafterdark]

Primarchs and the birds I think they would be able transform into (and why)

1) Lion - Golden Eagle. Just like lions are called "Kings of Jungle", golden eagles are sometimes called "Kings of Birds". Aside from the naming, I think Lion would love such a magnificent, pompous bird.

2) Fulgrim - Albino/White Peacock. Do I even need to say anything here? Lord Shen looking bastard. Flaunts his gorgeous tail feathers to everyone. Will start screaming at you very loudly if you don't pay him enough attention. That is especially the case if you are one of his brothers. Especially if you are Ferrus. Sorry Ferrus. Surprisingly, though, Fulgrim doesn't turn into a bird very often. Some speculate he regrets choosing the peacock as his transformation. Others believe he loves his human form way more.

3) Perturabo - Red Tailed Hawk. Just like the Heresy is named after Horus, despite Perturabo being the sole reason it got this bad for the Imperium in the first place, red tailed hawk's screech is attributed to a completely different bird. Perturabo will feel a spiritual connection with this bird species, which is why he is able to transform into it in the first place. He does wish the bird was bigger.

4) Jaghatai Khan - Peregrine. Peregrine falcons are the world's fastest birds, and one of the fastest animals on Earth. There's literally no better bird for Jaghatai than this falcon. Probably yells "falcon punch" when he dives in (The Emperor told him to do that to "intimidate his enemies")

5) Leman Russ - Pigeons. Now, fun fact - crows/ravens have a symbiotic relationship with wolves, as they often hunt together and share the spoils. As you probably guessed by now, the ravens/crows are kinda already taken by another primarch (in canon even), so I had to improvise. Enter pigeons. Just like wolves, pigeons got domesticated by humanity and have been our companions for many centuries. Pigeons, just like crows and ravens, are social birds, meaning they live in one big flock and help take care of each other. This is as close as one gets to a wolf pack dynamic in the bird world, so there we have it! Leman does use his transformation mostly for pranks or "party tricks". Never in battle. If you propose him to do that for a surprise attack, you can spot a little bit of a blush, before he angrily tells you off.

6) Rogal Dorn - Arctic Tern. I think Rogal would find the fact that those birds have the longest migration distance (48,700 km to 70,900 km) REALLY fascinating. He surprisingly takes this form very often and for a reason. Up above in the sky he gets a good look at both his own defences as well as those of the Imperium's enemies. Though he doesn't like admitting it, he simply just really likes flying and letting the wind carry him.

6) Konrad Curze - Bearded Vulture. Those fuckers EAT BONES and look like fucking dinosaurs. Konrad would LOVE to terrorize people as this bird. He'll take off the skin and meaty bits in his human form, then transform into a bird to finish the job. By the time he is done - NOTHING will be left of you... GOD I love bearded vultures. FUCKING LOOK AT THEM!!!

7) Sanguinius - Swan. Graceful. Beautiful. A symbol of love. Will break human bones with a flap of the wings (or at the very least make you bleed). Nuff said, even if the choice is a little basic. If you can't find him anywhere, chances are, he is chilling in the garden, swimming in the pond. Make sure to bring bread with you, the good one. You know, the one that's all fresh and soft. If you're still unsure, just call Warmaster Horus, he knows what bread his brother likes.

(Yes, this how swans are rescued. In Sanguinius' case, this is how he is restrained when he is being a tiny bit of a nuisance)

8) Ferrus Manus - Hummingbird. Similar to Rogal and the Arctic Tern, Ferrus would find hummingbirds fascinating by how strong and fast their wings are (and how they're the only birds able to fly backwards). Despite the birds being smaller than some insects, they have caught the attention of one of the biggest primarchs... Which is why it's hilarious when Ferrus, this gruff giant of a man, able to move mountains and wrestle wyrms, transforms into a tiiiiiny bird mid-fight. Well, it's hilarious until you are his opponent and realize you just completely lost sight of Ferrus, until he transforms back into his human form but, by then, it's too late. On the more lighter note, Ferrus loves resting while, in his bird form, nestled somewhere in Fulgrim's hair. Warm, soft AND he can be sure he wouldn't be bothered.

9) Angron - Roosters. Hoo boy. So, roosters kinda have a reputation for being aggressive, easily provoked AND also having a history of being used in bloodsports. However, roosters are very valuable if you intend to keep chickens, as they take care of the hens, protect them and, if raised properly, can actually be great pets. So, over all, we have a loving, protective and loyal bird, who is unfortunately often mistreated and misunderstood, as well as used in bloodsports even to this day, which often leaves the birds aggressive and traumatized... Sounds familiar?

God, I hate thinking about Angron, because the more I think about him, the more I want to cry. I'm actually kinda teary eyed as I'm typing this, haha.

Anyway, to lighten the mood, Angron, with nails or without them, is a local alarm clock. It doesn't matter where you are, you WILL hear his crowing and you WILL get your ass up.

10) Roboute Guilliman - Harpy Eagle. The only bird I don't have explanation for other than it looks cool. And I'm not even a huge Rowboat Girlyman fan. Would love to hear your opinion on why this does or doesn't work. And if it doesn't, I'm eager to hear your alternatives.

11) Mortarion - The Marabou Stork. If you know anything about those birds - you know they were handcrafted by Satan himself. Or, Nurgle, I guess. Morty would love them.

(Above is an attached photo of a very private meeting of the Death Guard Legion. Lord Mortarion is on the white pedestal.)

12) Magnus The Red - The Scarlet Macaw. I swear, Magnus' daemon form is supposed to resemble the scarlet macaw. The resemblance is uncanny. Perhaps he was always meant to be the Emperor's "parrot on the shoulder", instead of, what, powering the Golden Throne instead of the Emperor? Yes, he sits on his dad's shoulder and makes snarky remarks to everyone. Malcador once threw a shoe at him for that.

13) Horus Lupercal - Bald Eagle. Actually NOT bald, just like Horus isn't actually naturally bald, because he SHAVES. The fandom lied to me, this whole time I thought Horus was jealous of his father's and some of his brothers' hair, when in reality he CHOSE to be bald!

... Anyway, high key Horus (before the heresy) is the Imperium's poster boy, so it's only logical to give him the bird that is essentialy a US mascot. He loves perching very high and enjoying the winds stroke his feathers. Also, if you kiss him on his forehead, while he is in the eagle form, he will get all giddy and happy. Horus also takes his bird form to play with Sanguinius, trying to race with him in the skies. Goofs.

14) Lorgar Aurelian - The Mourning Dove. In Christianity, the mourning dove is used to represent the Holy Spirit. It's generally a bird that is associated with spirituality, being a symbol of peace, love and faith. It would be a crime for me not to assign this bird to Lorgar. In the early hours of the morning, Lorgar would take this form to coo prayers in the language no one will ever understand, making it somewhat safe for him.

15) Vulkan - Crested Auklet. These birds are mostly found nesting on volcanic islands, such as Kuril Islands and Sakhalin island. They also live in huge colonies and can form strong bonds with each other. I think this bird would remind Vulkan less of himself and more of Nocturne... Which is exactly why he would choose this bird for transformation. He is very cuddly in the bird form and smells like tangerines too. Just... Don't hold him for too long. Vulkan, even as a bird, is still a living furnace.

16) Corvus Corax - Common Raven.

... Do I need to say anything?

17) Alpharius and Omegon - Emus. What better birds for the local "Just according to plan" guys than the ones that literally won a war against humans. Seriously, what the fuck, Australia?

And as a little bonus:

The Emperor of Mankind - Cassowary. You thought it would be another eagle? Or, perhaps, the emperor penguin with the "penguins of Madagascar" joke thrown somewhere in there? Nah. He gets the bird that is literally THE tired single father of the birds. On the other hand, though, the Emperor gets to harass people in the cassowary form. Imagine having the honor of being invited to the Imperial Palace itself and as you explore you get approached by a huge, dangerous looking cassowary. You manage to befriend it, even fed it some food you had on you, before you hear panicked Custodes running in your direction, screaming for the Emperor to stop harassing the guests. The cassowary then proceeds to book it, screaming back in the very human voice that he can do whatever he wants. And now you have an idea of what a normal Monday in the Imperial Palace looks like to the Custodes.

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; finally awake, the pack must face the consequences of their unraveling—and the distance growing between them and the one they love the most.

★ warnings; memory loss, slight non-con elements, violence

☆ story masterlist

Ghost jolted awake, his heart pounding and skin damp with sweat, his whole body aching with the telltale pain of staying too long in his wraith form. His mask is gone and he’s drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around him, as if he’d been thrashing in his sleep. As he blinked away the haze, he recognized the dim, familiar space of his own room—the one he reserved for moments when he needed to be alone, away from the pack.

“Easy there.” Gaz’s voice cuts through the silence, weary but grounded. He’s sitting in a chair by his side, leaning forward with a flask in hand, his face lined with exhaustion. He looks a mess, his usual spark dampened by something deeper, something heavy.

"Drink this," he murmurs, pressing the flask toward him. The bitter, herbal scent fills Ghost's nose, and he recoils. It’s not your tonic—the one you tailored just for him—but something improvised. The smell is close enough, familiar in a way that unsettles him further. Still he takes the flask, grimacing as he gulps down the harsh liquid in one go. It burns down his throat, sending a faint warmth through his limbs, dulling the ache, but only slightly.

“This isn’t the real thing,” he mutters, passing the flask back.

“It’s what we’ve got,” Gaz replies, a hint of dry bitterness in his voice. “Better than nothing.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, thick and stagnant. Frustration claws at Ghost, his mind churning with broken memories, fragments of something he can’t fully grasp. He clenches his fists, the memories slipping through his mind like sand.

“Talk to me,” he finally says, voice low and tight. “What’s been happening? Everything’s blurred, like I’ve been… trapped in a dream.” His eyes flash with frustration, sharp and intense.

Gaz looks away, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggles to find the words. He inhales deeply, the silence stretching before he finally speaks, his voice low and tired. “You… we’ve been off, mate. The whole pack has. Lost, distracted, like we’ve been… obsessed.” He laughs bitterly, as if the word doesn’t quite cover it. “You especially.”

“Leah,” Ghost breathes out, the name slipping past his lips as his hands clenched into fists, his mind swimming with half-formed images of her��her face, her touch, her scent. But it’s all fractured and wrong, impossible to hold onto.

“How long?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. “How long have we been… like this?”

Gaz shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not meeting his gaze. “Weeks,” he admits. “Weeks of us barely recognizing ourselves. We neglected the house, each other, our own bloody lives.”

Ghost tries to stand, only for his body to betray him, a sharp pain shooting up his legs. “And you’re only telling me now?” he snaps, anger flaring up. “We’ve been falling apart, and you didn’t think to snap me out of it sooner?”

Gaz flinches but holds his ground, meeting his pack-mates' gaze with determination. “You weren’t exactly listening, Simon. None of us were. Tried everything I could—potions, wards, even talking sense into you, but you wouldn’t hear a word against her. And then, it got to me too....”

Ghost lets out a frustrated growl. And then, as if reganing some of his long-forgotten sense, he thinks of you.

“We need to see her. Talk to her. Find out what’s happening.”

Gaz knows exactly who he’s talking about, his heart and mind in sync with his.

“We haven’t seen her in days.” Gaz laments, hand rubbing his face in desperation. “Her phone’s disconnected, and I’ve been taking care of you while Price went to look for Johnny.”

“Are they okay?” Ghost cuts him off again, but Gaz, despite looking so tired and haggard, doesn’t mind.

“Johnny went feral, stayed in his werewolf form for too long. But he’s alright now; he’s resting in his room. We stacked it up with a few of our clothes and food, or whatever we had remaining. We just haven't been able to leave the house, Price and I. Especially not with Leah still around.”

His last words come out strained, verging on bitter. Ghost can feel the weight of Gaz’s frustration; they’re all trapped in this swirling chaos, and every moment feels like they’re slipping further and further away from you.

Gaz reached into a bag beside him and pulled out a neatly folded set of clothes. They were plain, but clean—washed, pressed, and smelling faintly of lavender, a welcome break from the stale scent that seemed to hang over everything else. A fresh black facemask was also neatly folded into the pile.

“Go and get cleaned up,” Gaz said, holding them out to Ghost.

“Didn’t think anyone would’ve had the mind to do some laundry around here,” he muttered, a hint of dry humour cutting through the weariness as he accepted the clothes.

Gaz watched Ghost with a steady gaze, studying the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. After a pause, he pulled out his phone, typing a quick message to the others.

"I’ll let the boys know you’re up,” he murmured, looking back at Ghost. “But before we reach out for any answers, we need to be together. Properly. You, me, Price, and Johnny. The whole pack.”

There was something grounding about that idea—that, whatever had happened, whatever answers lay ahead, they’d face it unified. The pack had always been his constant, and in the haze of recent weeks, he’d almost forgotten how much that meant.

Gaz finished typing and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his expression shifting to something softer. “Take your time, Simon. Get a shower, clear your head. I’ll wait right here.”

Without another word, Ghost headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The hot water beat down on him, easing the aches in his muscles and slowly peeling away the residue of exhaustion. He scrubbed his face, shaved, and let the water run over him, each drop lifting a little more of the fog that had settled over his mind.

When he finally emerged, clean and dressed, he felt steadier, like he was slipping back into himself. Gaz stood in the room, hands casually in his pockets, watching him with a faint but genuine smile. As Ghost approached, Gaz stepped forward, leaning up to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. Then, he took his larger hand in his, squeezing it firmly. Simon hesitated just a moment before squeezing back, a silent gesture of thanks passing between them. The steady weight of Gaz’s hand in his felt grounding, a reminder that he wasn’t facing this alone.

Ghost nodded, the last of his hesitation falling away. “Let’s go.”

. . .

The silence in the room was heavy, like a smothering blanket that none of them could cast off. The air held an edge of tension, cut only by the occasional creak of the old house settling. The room itself mirrored their state—scattered, untidy, and dimly lit by the fading glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the grime-streaked windows.

Johnny slumped deeper into the couch, the fabric of Ghost’s hoodie swallowing his frame. The scent of his packmate clung to it, earthy and metallic, a faint reminder of stability in a world that felt increasingly foreign. He tugged the hoodie closer around his shoulders, his hands hidden in the oversized sleeves. His overgrown hair and scruff shadowed his face, but his furrowed brows betrayed his unease.

Gaz sat at the table, his leg bouncing in a steady, erratic rhythm. The untouched tea in front of him had gone cold, a thin film forming on its surface. He stared at it like it might hold the answers they couldn’t seem to find. His jaw clenched as he tapped the table with a finger, the sound barely audible over the tick of the wall clock.

Ghost sat beside him, the chair groaning under his weight. The tension in his shoulders was visible even under his heavy sweater, his face-mask firmly in place. He hadn’t said a word since they sat down, but the intensity in his stillness spoke volumes.

John stood by the window, his back to them, puffing on his cigar with short, agitated breaths. Smoke curled around him, dissipating into the stale air of the room. His reflection in the glass was fractured and ghostly, distorted by the grime. He had always been their anchor, their steadying force, but now he seemed just as lost as the rest of them.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Gaz finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, as if it had been days since he’d used it. “We all felt it. That… pull. It wasn’t normal. But now? Now it’s like—” He paused, searching for the words. “Like my skin crawls just thinking about her.”

Johnny let out a sharp exhale, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Aye. Same. I can’t even picture her face properly. Feels like I’ve got glass under my skin whenever I try.” He glanced at Ghost, who remained still, his eyes fixed on the table. “Mate, you’re the one who’s best at keeping your head. You’ve got nothin’?”

Ghost’s fingers stopped drumming. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under the shift. “It’s not about keeping my head, Johnny,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s about the fact that I should remember. We all should. But there’s… nothing. Just a hole where the memories should be.”

Gaz slammed his palm against the table, making Johnny flinch. “And that’s the other thing, isn’t it? Her. And you.” His sharp gaze cut to Ghost, your name rolling off his lips. “We were ready to ask her to be part of the pack. It was all we thought about for weeks. Then—” He gestured vaguely, frustration radiating off him. “Now she’s gone, and it feels like—like someone yanked a piece out of us and then stitched us back up wrong.”

“Enough!” John barked, his voice rough from too many cigars. He turned from the window, his expression dark and weary. “We can’t sit here blaming each other or wallowing in what we don’t know. The fact is, something happened. Something we can’t explain. And until we figure out what it was, none of this”—he gestured at the room, at them—“is going to make sense.”

Ghost leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table, tension etched into every line of his frame. His voice was low but firm as he rasped out your name, “What about her?”

“She’s alive,” Johnny muttered. His voice was uncertain, his fingers trembling. “I can feel it. Somewhere out there. But she’s… out of reach. Like something’s keeping us from her.”

John’s gaze darkened as he looked at each of them in turn, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “We can’t do anything for her—not yet. First, we need to pull ourselves together. Look at this place.” He swept his arm, indicating the wrecked furniture, the dust and chaos surrounding them. “We’re a mess, and that mess isn’t just around us—it’s in our heads.”

He paced to the trash bin, tying off the bag with sharp, precise movements. “We’re no good to her like this. We clear this house. We clear our minds. Only then can we figure out what’s happened, where she is, and why we’re being kept from her.”

Gaz frowned, the sting of John’s words cutting through his frustration. “And Leah?” he asked bitterly. “What do we do about her?”

John’s jaw tightened, the embers of his cigar flaring briefly as he took a long draw. He let the silence stretch, considering his response. “We leave her alone,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “She’s dangerous, whatever she is. And right now, so are we. Until we understand what’s happened to us, we keep our distance.”

The room fell into an uneasy quiet, the weight of his words hanging heavy over them. Slowly, Ghost nodded, his knuckles white against the edge of the table. Johnny exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion and frustration etched into his features.

“Right then,” Price said, breaking the silence as he picked up the trash bag. “Let’s get to it. House isn’t going to clean itself.”

One by one, they rose to their feet, their steps slow and hesitant, but they moved. The weight of what lay ahead loomed, but for now, they focused on the first step—clearing the wreckage, both inside and out.

. . .

The clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the dull scrape of furniture being moved did little to mask the oppressive tension hanging over the house. Price stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, methodically scrubbing a stubborn plate with the kind of focus reserved for anything but the situation at hand. The faint slosh of water and the rhythmic clink of ceramic broke the silence, but not the heaviness in the air.

Nearby, a trash bag sat tied and waiting. Price gave the plate a final rinse, then stacked it neatly with the others before drying his hands on a worn kitchen towel. He grabbed the trash bag on his way out the back door, letting the screen creak open and slam shut behind him.

Meanwhile, Johnny tied his overgrown hair into a small, haphazard ponytail, the uneven strands barely staying put. His freshly shaved jaw—courtesy of Price earlier that morning—stood out starkly against his otherwise dishevelled appearance, making the lingering exhaustion in his eyes even more pronounced. He heaved another broken chair onto the growing pile near the back door, his movements sluggish but determined.

Ghost, nearby, silently swept debris from the floor, the steady rhythm of the broom punctuating the tense quiet. His broad frame was taut, shoulders coiled as though bracing for a blow that never came. Neither man spoke, their shared silence a testament to the strain hanging heavy in the air.

Upstairs, Gaz moved with a quiet purpose through his small workshop, tucked away in a corner of the house. The room smelled faintly of burnt herbs and candle wax, the aftermath of his earlier work lingering in the air. A faint golden glow pulsed from the fresh wards he had just set in front of Leah's door down the hall, the intricate pattern etched with precision into the wood.

He wiped his hands on a rag, the faint shimmer of magical residue clinging to his fingertips. The wards he had placed were strong, layered to shield her room from any unwelcome interference, but also to keep her presence confined. It wasn’t a solution, just a precaution—one that weighed heavily on him.

Suddenly, the sharp trill of the phone cut through the quiet, making Johnny start and Ghost stop. Price turned his head slightly, before nodding curtly, “I’ll get it.”  

He stalked over to the phone mounted on the hallway wall, snatching the receiver up with a practised brusqueness. “Price.”  

“John,” came Laswell’s voice, rough and harried.  

He frowned, his grip on the receiver tightening. “Kate?”  

“I need to see you,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “All of you.”  

Price’s frown deepened. “This isn’t a good time, Laswell.”  

“No, now’s exactly the time,” she snapped, frustration bleeding through the line. “This isn’t something we can handle over the phone. I’m coming up. Be ready.”  

His jaw clenched. “An explanation would be nice.”  

“You’ll get one when I’m there,” she bit out. Then, after a beat, her voice softened, weariness creeping in. “I’ve got answers, John. But not all of them. Just... be ready. I’ll be there in an hour.”  

The line clicked dead before he could press her further.  

Price lowered the receiver slowly, his eyes narrowing as he replaced it on the cradle with a deliberate motion. He turned back to the others, his expression grim.

Gaz descended the stairs, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stepped into the room. His brows knit together at the tension rolling off Price in palpable waves. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone cautious, catching the shift in the atmosphere like a physical blow.

“That was Laswell,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of his stress.

“What did she want?” Gaz asked, his tone cautious.

“Says she’s on her way here,” Price replied, his voice clipped. “She’s got something to tell us. Something about what’s been happening.”

Johnny tilted his head, suspicion flickering in his tired eyes. “She knows what’s wrong with us?”

“Didn’t say.” Price reached for the cigar resting in the ashtray and took a long drag, exhaling sharply. “Only that it’s too much for the bloody phone.”

Gaz frowned, his brow furrowed. “Think it’s about Leah? Or... us?”

“Could be both,” Price said curtly. He cast a glance toward the stairs, his lips thinning. “Either way, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Ghost’s grip tightened on the broom handle, his voice low. “An hour isn’t much time.”

“No, it’s not,” Price muttered. He turned toward the windows again, his profile cast in sharp focus by the dim light filtering through. “So get your heads on straight. Whatever she’s bringing, it’s not gonna be good.”

Johnny let out a humourless laugh as he tossed the piece of wood onto the pile. 

Gaz muttered something under his breath before returning to his workshop. Ghost, ever silent, resumed sweeping, his movements just as sharp and tense as before.

They had an hour to prepare—for Laswell’s arrival, for her answers, and for the storm they all knew was coming.

. . .

The moment Laswell’s car pulled up the gravel driveway, the tension in the house thickened. Price watched from the window, his third cigar of that morning, forgotten in the ashtray as he studied the vehicle. Two figures stepped out behind her, their familiar silhouettes making his jaw tighten. Alejandro and Rudy.  

“Well, this just got worse,” he muttered under his breath, turning to glance at the others. Gaz frowned, Ghost took a long sip from his tea, and Johnny stiffened, his eyes narrowing.  

The trio approached the house with purpose. Laswell led the way, her usual sharp demeanour dulled by weariness, while Alejandro and Rudy followed, their expressions unreadable but far from happy.  

Price opened the door before they could knock, his broad frame blocking the entrance. “Laswell. Alejandro. Rudy.”  

Alejandro gave him a curt nod. “Price.”  

John stepped aside without a word, letting them file into the house. The pack stood scattered in the living room, their postures defensive.  

“Stinks in here,” Alejandro muttered as he took in the room, nose scrunched up. His sharp eyes swept over the remaining clutter and the signs of disrepair before landing on Ghost. His gaze darkened.  

Ghost stiffened under the scrutiny but didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened as he rose up to meet Alejandro.

“You look better,” Alejandro said coolly, stopping just in front of him.  

Ghost grunted, a curt acknowledgment that sounded more like a growl.  

“Good,” Alejandro said, his voice like steel. “Now grit your teeth.”  

The punch came so fast no one had time to react. Alejandro’s fist connected with Ghost’s jaw with a sickening crack, the force sending him staggering backward. He hit the floor on one knee, his hand clutching his face.  

Gaz moved to help, but Alejandro snapped, “Stay out of it cabrón (bastard)!”  

Johnny let out a furious snarl, his body coiled to lunge, but Price’s bark stopped him cold. “Stand down, Johnny!”  

Johnny stopped, his eyes darting between Price and Ghost, his hands trembling with restrained fury.  

Ghost slowly pushed himself up, his expression stoic despite the bruise blooming on his jaw. His eyes met Alejandro’s, something resigned yet determined in his gaze. “I probably deserved that,” he muttered hoarsely.  

“You’re damn right you did,” Alejandro growled, shaking out his fist.  

“Now,” Ghost rasped, leaning back onto his haunches, “tell us everything. Absolutely everything.”  

banner credit

[diamondzart]

I know Toy Story 4 is not really loved by the masses, but I can’t help admitting that I’m that person who loves it just as much as the trilogy. I was really excited about it back in 2019 and even had a little bit of hyperfixation on it. I really adore the concept of lost toys who live on their own. As much as Woody’s choice in the end was unexpected, I think it opened big possibilities for post-canon ideas. Like this one! I decided to design his possible appearance after a couple of years of living outside with Bo. Description under the cut!

I noticed what was missing from those few fanarts on events after the end of Toy Story 4 that I found on the internet. Bo Peep is all so cool and fancy with her hook, raincoat and all sorts of useful thingies that she carries with her, and Woody is just clean and unscathed, as if he just yesterday got out of a dry and warm room. Naaah he wouldn’t stay like this for long 😆

Because what is lost toy’s life? Dirt, unforeseen damage and the need to periodically fight off stray animals. Moreover, we already know that Woody has a tendency to get into troubles. Moreover, he is a rag doll — that is, more than Bo is vulnerable to problems like unstable humidity, getting stuck somewhere with his limbs and getting attacked by cats / dogs / raccoons / whatever else they can encounter. He should become as hardcore as Bo after a couple of years, because otherwise there is no way to survive in this world.

The “raincoat” is of nylon, most likely cut out parts of an umbrella that someone conveniently lost in the park during stormy weather. The trick is that it’s waterproof, since when you are made out of natural fabric, it's important not to get wet as much as possible. Moreover, Woody is quite old, and he should be concerned about the condition of his fabric if he does not want to literally fall apart after a couple of years of such adventures.

The holster is used as a pocket for small things, here it’s used for matches and paper clips, which can be useful in different situations. For matches, a striking surface from a matchbox is attached to the outer side of the right boot. This will allow to quickly light a match by yanking a foot down while holding match to it and thus minimize extra full-body movements, which can be useful in an emergency situation. I think that this can be effective not only for lighting up spaces, but also for scaring away animals, especially small ones like rats.

The hook is a pencil and a fishhook with a broken tip, strapped with duct tape. Basically an analogue of Bo’s hook but made from improvised materials. As we have already seen in her example, it is an excellent utility for crossing various obstacles and, if necessary, for self-defense.

Stitches and scuffs. Both Bo Peep's arms were broken off and are taped back. That means, free living involves the regular risk of losing limbs. Even in an antique store, Woody got his foot stuck somewhere several times, which suggests that either himself or with the help of some stray animal he lost one or another limb and had to sew it back on his own or with Bo’s assistance. He will have to overcome his fear of being broken and accept this as a new part of his existence.

These were general notes on this sketch! Perhaps I will continue to develop this idea in order to find some new interesting solutions.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

could you write something with the hero and villain fake dating? (you totallt dont have to if you dont want to or something I just wanted to ask cus I loveee the trope!)

"Kiss me," the villain said.

"No fucking way." A horrible blush started to spread over the hero's neck. The worst thing about this was that this had been their idea in the first place.

They were ashamed to admit it but when they had arrested the villain a few months ago, they had suggested to the judge a different kind of punishment. At the time, there wasn't much evidence of the villain's criminal activities, so the hero had thought it to be more practical if the villain had to work together with other heroes. As a kind of community service.

After all, the villain was smart when it came to these schemes.

However, for whatever reason, they had been paired together. The hero didn't quite know what to do with themselves now. Ever since the mission had started, their brain wasn't functioning at all. It was quite self-explanatory. The villain was incredibly attractive and they were joking around, seizing every opportunity to flirt with the hero.

The hero suspected it to be some scheme to throw them off their game. But they couldn't be sure.

"These guys over there have been eyeing us the entire evening. If you ask me, they're not buying our little act." The villain let their fingertips ghost over the hero's knuckles and the hero's heart started to throb. The hero didn't turn around to look at the suspicious people the villain had been talking about. Their mind was somewhere else entirely.

On this after show party, they were supposed to observe highly influential people for suspicious activity. An election was coming up and although the hero loathed politics, it was obviously the right thing to do. They weren't supposed to be the ones being observed.

Usually, the hero wasn't very fond of undercover work. They were a horrible liar and improvisation wasn't their strong suit either. For the last few days, the villain had saved them more than once from embarrassing slip-ups. It was quite pathetic.

"And you have been flirted with already," the villain said. Somehow, their voice sounded bitter.

"They were just being nice," the hero said. They shifted on their chair. If someone was indeed observing them, maybe kissing the villain was the right thing to do. God, the hero didn't have much experience and they feared they would make a fool out of themsleves once again.

The villain probably had a new lover every week or so.

"They wanted to buy you a drink."

"Ehh," the hero said. "It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"It's compromising the mission."

"Is that person who wanted to buy me a drink one of those guys who have been 'eyeing' us the entire evening?" the hero asked. They leaned over and took the villain's hand. Whenever they looked into the villain's eyes, their stupid heart skipped a beat but they tried to come closer, to appear more in love.

It was quite strange for them to display physical intimacy in public. They had never really considered themselves to be fit for relationships - work got in the way every single time but the villain brought enough casualness into the (fake) relationship to somewhat ease the hero's nerves.

The villain didn't answer their question, though.

"All I am trying to say is: when someone wants to buy you a drink, we don't look like a couple," the villain said. Their eyes dropped to the hero's lips and the hero leaned over, holding onto the villain's hand.

"Well, you could have come with me to the bar," the hero said. They shrugged and took a sip of their drink with a shaky hand the villain observed a little too long.

"I will keep that in mind." The villain followed the little veins on the hero's wrist of the hand that was holding onto them. The hero was so nervous they weren't sure if they had to cry or laugh.

"Okay, be honest. Is someone watching?" the hero asked. They managed to scoot over towards the villain.

The villain's eyes were still on the hero, observed every little move. To say the villain could be relentless was an understatement.

"They have the audacity to check you out." The villain's voice was low, even though their mouth formed a sweet smile. The hero hadn’t even realised how tight their grip was around the villain's hands. "Probably some disgusting perv. I can’t blame them, though. You look incredible."

The villain leaned in, touched the hero's forearm gently and immediately, the hero’s heart sped up.

"You have to be very careful or I will actually fall in-"

And then, the hero kissed them.

For whatever reason, they kissed them. They put their flat hand on the villain's neck and pulled them close until their lips met. Later, the hero would blame their own nervousness but truthfully, they didn't know exactly why they did it.

The hero considered themselves inexperienced - rightfully so - and heard their own heartbeat in their ears as the villain smiled against their lips. The hero felt clumsy and stupid; they didn't know exactly what they were doing. So, it was even more embarrassing when the villain put a hand on their thigh, squeezed softly and responded with slow kisses, forcing the hero to adapt.

Although the hero was painfully aware of their own nervousness, they were also calming down slowly. The villain was guiding them through it perfectly and they hated themselves for being in need of it.

Eventually, the hero pulled away and found it to be quite hard to look into the villain's eyes.

"Impressive," the villain murmured. Their smirk wasn't leaving their face.

"Sorry, I- uh-"

"Don't apologise."

"Oh, yes, uh..." The villain leaned over once more until they could whisper into the hero's ear.

"You did so well, don't you know that?"

"Are - are they still watching us?"

"No, my love." The villain gave the hero a peck on their temple. "How do you feel?"

"Nervous," they admitted.

"You're not really a fan of being undercover, are you?" The villain took their hand and the hero squeezed it, trying somehow to stop their hands from shaking.

"It's my least favourite thing about this job," the hero said. They took in a deep breath and tried to gather their thoughts.

The villain could be so sweet - the reassurance and the gentleness were so foreign to the hero that it scared them. Most of the time, their job was focused on performance and results. There wasn't much space for emotions. They weren't used to someone praising them.

"Don't worry, you are amazing at this," the villain purred. "If it's too much for you, we can always leave."

"But the mission..."

"Well, if you want my honest opinion: I couldn't care less about it. I am just enjoying my time with you."

The hero had to chuckle.

"You are terrible."

"It's your call. I can take the blame if your boss gives you an earful."

"Really?"

"Really."

Once they were back in their hotel room, the hero dared to sleep in the bed with the villain next to them and awoke unsurprisingly in their arms in the morning.

[princessmaybank]

Never Have I Ever

Pairings: Rudy x Fem!Co-star!Reader

Warnings: Dual POV, Surprise kiss, alcohol, handjob, oral (both), unprotected p in v, etc.

Summary: You play Never Have I Ever in an interview and secrets get revealed.

Authors Note: This is my first Rudy fic and my first fic in a long time! Should I do more Rudy Fics in the future? Not proof-read and sorry it's so long! Let me know what you think!

"Hello and welcome back! I'm here with some of the cast of Outer Banks, not everyone was able to make it tonight, but we are happy to have all of you!" The TV host announced to the camera.

"Please go around the couch and introduce yourselves!" They said extremely excited. "Sup, I'm JD, I play Pope." "Hey, I'm Chase, I play John B." "Hi, I'm Rudy Pankow, I get to play JJ Maybank." "Hi guys! I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N! I play Harper!" "Heyyyyy everybodyyyyy I'm Carlacia Grant, I play Cleo!" "And I'm Drew Starkey, I play Rafe Cameron."

Everyone in the audience clapped when the cast was done with their introductions.

"We asked you, the audience, which game you'd like to see them play, and the answer that came out on top was *drum rolls with their fingers on the desk* Never Have I Ever!" The audience cheers, clearly excited to get all the juicy details.

"Now you guys can't get mad at me! These questions were asked by the viewers." The host lets out a laugh. "Sure, we all know these are the spicy questions you want the answer to." JD teases causing the host and audience to laugh.

"Let's get started! You each get a paddle with Have and Have Not on it. You'll turn the paddle depending on your answer, seem simple enough?" The host smiles. "You sure we can't do anything else with the paddle?" Chase smirked with a giggle, which made everyone start laughing. "Dirty mind Chase!" The host announced. "I never said what for!" Chase turned to Rudy and hit him on the arm with the paddle. Rudy didn't even say ow, he just began to pretend to cry.

The audience was loving everything they were hearing from you all. So far the cast has admitted to pranking people on set, forgetting lines, showing up late, improvising lines, things about childhood, some more explicit questions, etc. It was down to the last few questions at this point. Everyone was having fun just sitting and answering these questions, they all learned a bit more about each other.

Y/N's POV:

I can't stand the anxiety I felt when I heard the next question. I didn't want to lie because I'm not a good liar, but I also didn't want anyone to know. "Never Have I Ever had a crush on-set!" The host smiled, waiting for the drama that will ensue with this question.

One by one everyone changed their paddles.

Drew: Never

Carlacia: Never

Chase: I Have

JD: Never

Me: I Have

Rudy: I Have

My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw Rudy's paddle flip, but I tried to hide my reaction.

Rudy's POV:

She flipped her paddle to 'I Have'...I don't know if I should be hurt or excited about this. I wonder if she knows. I looked over to Y/N to make sure I wasn't seeing things and her eyes were already on me. I watched as she quickly changed her gaze to something different, it seems like she was flustered or embarrassed.

Y/N's POV:

After our interview was over, we all decided to go grab some dinner together. JD, Chase, and Rudy sat across from Drew, Carlacia and I. After we all ordered we just started a casual conversation about wrapping up filming.

As I reached for my drink I felt a pair of eyes on me. I looked up and immediately spotted Rudy looking at me, he seemed kind of nervous and quickly looked away. I couldn't stop my wandering thoughts. My eyes traveled to his hair, his beautiful, soft, blonde hair that looked so tuggable. I looked at his lips, those plush pink lips, I'd love to feel them on every inch of my body. My teeth bit the inside of my lip as I started feeling a wetness pool between my legs.

I excused myself from the table so I could use the restroom and get my thoughts in order. As I walked out of the bathroom I almost bumped into someone. Without looking up I say sorry. Before I could react I was slammed against the hallway wall with lips pressed against mine. My eyes widened as I realized who has me pinned against the wall.

Rudy's POV:

I couldn't keep myself contained anymore. I said I had to go to the bathroom a few minutes after she left, just so I could have a private moment with her. I just needed to talk. I needed to reveal my true feelings for her, I've sat back in silence for far too long. I thought I would have more time to think about what I would say, but instead she came out of the bathroom almost immediately after I got to the hallway. I panicked, I had no idea what to do so I grabbed her and pinned her to the wall, attached my lips to hers. We both moaned into the kiss and that's when we realized the kiss lasted longer than expected.

The two of us pulled away and stared at each other in shock. "We'll talk later." Is what she whispered to me before heading to the table. I hid in the bathroom for a few minutes before heading back to the others.

Y/N's POV:

'What the hell just happened?' Is what I kept asking myself. It came out of nowhere. When I sat back down Carlacia looked at me with a smirk. I give her a look that says 'what?'. She responded with a whisper in my ear. "Your lipstick is all smudged." She giggled and handed me a compact mirror. I hurry to grab it from her and inspect my makeup.

I felt someone's eyes on me and looked up. Rudy's mouth was covered in red lipstick. Carlacia was the only one to notice and you could easily tell by her face that she was shocked. So were we. Before he could make it to the table I pulled him back to that same hallway as before. "Woah- what'd I do now?" He questioned. I only held the mirror up to his face in response. "You didn't look in the mirror before coming back out?!" I whisper shouted. He only shrugged to my question.

I decided to check the women's restroom and realized no one was in there. I hurriedly pulled him in and towards the sinks after I shut and locked the entrance. I grabbed some paper towels and wet them so he could take off the makeup. "Can you take it off for meee?" He asked so sweetly with those gorgeous, enchanting, blue, puppy dog eyes. I smile and get close to him, inspecting his mouth. His hands found my hips and held me close. My hand with the paper towel found his face and I was going so slow, I didn't want this to end. In fact I wanted to grab him by the face and do it a thousand more times. Those perfect lips.. and I was able to feel them on one part that I needed him tonight, how lucky am I? Gotta get those lips everywhere else next.

We locked eyes for a moment. Rudy looked hungry for more. Before I could ask him anything, he backed me up against the wall as his lips attacked mine again. My hand dropped the paper towel from the sudden jolt. Our eyes were closed but I felt his hands wandering my body. As his fingers inched closer to where I needed him most he pulled away but his arms trapped me against the wall.

"It's me right...it was about me?" He asked with a slight amount of pain in his voice. I looked at him confused. "w-wha-" Before I could even finish my question he interrupted me. "Don't play dumb, you're a smart girl. The game. Your answer to the last question..." He stated with hurt riddling his face. I realized he was talking about the game of never have I ever back at the interview. "Rudy...who else would it be about??" I questioned. He shrugged his shoulders and looked a little insecure in the moment. "I've seen how you look at Drew, and I can't handle the back and forth Y/N." I look at him like he's crazy. "What do you mean how I look at Drew??" I was louder and sounded upset now. "You look at him like you want to marry him or ya know, like at least fuck him.." My eyes nearly popped out of my head when Rudy spoke. "Rudy. I don't like Drew like that! He's always been just a friend and more like a brother!" I take a moment to look into his eyes and it looks like they flash for a second. "I've only liked one person on set this entire time and that's you Rudy." He paints a sad smile on his face before speaking. "I'm sorry I assumed." His head drops along with his arms. I'm not sure what to say, so I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him close. My head rested on his chest and we just held each other.

Our moment didn't last much longer. We heard a knock on the bathroom door and I remembered the door was locked. I pushed Rudy into a stall and told him not to come out. I finally opened the door and I have to say Carlacia was the last person I expected to see at the moment.

"Are you okay? You've been over here a long time, JD is checking on Rudy too." My eyes go wide as she says Rudy's name. "Oh - I uhm I'm sure he's fine." Almost on cue JD runs over. "He's not in there and he's not picking up his phone!" He rushed, freaking out about his best friend. "I'm sure he's okay." I smiled but that made Carlacia give me a squint. "Let me in." She sounded firm, I just shook my head no as she continued to repeat her statement. "Y/N. I'm getting in there one way or another. I suggest the easier way." When the word 'no' left my lips she immediately pushed past me, followed by JD with his hands over his eyes.

"Rudyyyy, ya in here buddy?" JD asked from behind his hands. Carlacia moved his hands and pointed to the closed stall that had some nice dress shoes sitting at the bottom. "Just give it up, come on out.." I said slowly. He made his way out and we were immediately questioned. We told them everything besides the kissing and that we are deeply in love, but I don't think it's important information anyway. He came up with the brilliant idea of saying my lips bumped into his and that's why he had the lipstick on him. Note my sarcasm when I said brilliant.

They could tell we were lying and hiding information but they just let it be as we walked back to Drew and Chase.

It didn't take long for us to pack up and leave. Rudy and I decided to just take our food to go so we wouldn't be a burden to the others. Drew drove here and Chase lived nearby so he took him home. Carlacia also drove here and as I pleaded for her to let me get a ride home, she pulled JD into her car. "Enjoy your ride." She winked and looked at Rudy, causing a blush to run to my cheeks. Before I could say anything else she drove off. "I'll drive you home." Rudy smiled at me. I nodded to him as a thank you before getting in his car.

The ride was silent up until now, well except for the radio, but we had been trapped in a sexual tension that felt tighter any time one of us tried to talk. Rudy was the one to break it of course, I never would've had the balls to do it. "You're a damn good kisser.." he smirked. "but next time, don't smear your lipstick all over my face." He glanced over to me with a sultry smile. I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips when I heard him. The response I had stopped halfway up my throat when I realized he said 'next time'. There was a next time??? Thank fuck. My heart nearly exploded as I played his words over in my head.

The car came to a stop before I could get myself too soaked from the memories. "Welcome home." He said gesturing to my house. But when I turned my head to look at my house I saw that it in fact was not mine. "This is your house Rudy..." He only nodded in response before he got out and helped me out of his car. Rudy somehow persuaded me to come in for a little while to hang out or talk or something. It honestly didn't take much, I'm whipped for this man.

I was sat on his couch when Rudy came up behind me, handing a glass of wine to me. Before he came around the couch to sit with me, his hand lingered on my shoulder, squeezing a few times. His arm wrapped around my shoulders as he sipped on his drink I could only assume it was some type of whiskey.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked with a hint of liquid courage running through my veins. He nodded as he placed his lips on his glass once again. "How long have you liked me?" He let out some air he was holding in and set his drink on the table in front of us. "Well..." He started, snuggling closer to me. "it hasn't been too long...just since the second week of filming this season." That was nearly a year ago. Not too long my ass. "Why didn't you say anything?" I pried. "Why didn't you?" His crystal blue orbs finally stared back into mine. His lips were formed into a teasing smirk but when neither of us decided to break the silence, his face fell. Rudy's eyes never strayed from mine, in fact as I stared back into his, I noticed they only got darker when he began looking between my eyes and my lips.

Before we both knew it, Rudy's hand cupped my cheek and pulled my lips to meet his. Fireworks started to explode in my chest as our little kiss suddenly got more heated. He pulled me onto his lap and our bodies started to work together to create the friction we both desperately craved.

"Ah shit-" He pulled us apart. "how far ya wanna take this baby..?" He heaved out as my heart fluttered from the nickname. Without saying anything I slid off of his lap while his head was thrown back, gasping in air, trying to catch his breath. My knees touched the ground while my hands ran up and down his thighs.

"Before I continue...is this okay?" I ask with a squeeze to his thighs. "Yes.." He said so quietly I barely heard him. My hands spread his legs farther apart and my lips pressed to the zipper holding back his erection. I peppered kisses all around his bulge and thighs. "M-more please.." He begged, caressing my cheek.

My fingers laced around his belt buckle and tore the accessory from his body. While I was tossing it to the side, Rudy slid his dress pants down. I removed them from his ankles and threw them over with the belt. "These too.." I tugged on the waistband of his briefs.

He happily and eagerly obliged. When his cock sprung free from his fabric-jail, my eyes grew wider. Rudy was big, and I don't just mean 'big' to boost his ego, I mean I am actually scared this man will hurt me with his size.

Rudy must've noticed my stare and concern based on his reply. "It will fit.. I'll make it fit baby." He chuckled lightly. A redness rushed to my cheeks as I heard him call me that nickname again.

Before I could waste anymore time, I wrapped my hand around the base of his thick cock. He immediately grunted from the contact and threw his head back. Rudy only met my eyes after he heard me spit and felt my saliva running down his length. I quickly moved my hand to spread the wetness around, followed by a few more spits to completely cover him. His breathing was heavy, I could tell by how his chest was rising and falling.

Rudy's eyes met mine when my hand began moving for his pleasure. A small moan escaped his throat as I continued slowly. "f-fuck...fas-faster baby..." I pumped him a few more times then slid my mouth around him. This took him by surprise but he wasn't complaining. His hand met the back of my head, he wasn't pushing me, only rested it there, making sure I didn't stop. My head bobbed up and down as I gagged on his dick. Our eyes met, mine full of tears, his full of pleasure.

His thumbs pressed to my cheeks and wiped away stray tears, that I tried so hard to not let slip out. "Don't stop..please baby.." There were those butterflies in my stomach. He reached out and helped me go up and down on him.

Now he was forcing my head down and thrusting into my mouth and down my throat. "Ah..fuck..so good, so fuckin' good." He hissed. My eyes were closed, somehow helping with the blissful abuse I was receiving. "Such a good fuckin' girl for me...c'mon take my cum baby.." He groaned. His hips spasmed as his load shot down my throat.

I swallowed it all down and left his dick with a 'pop' sound. My lips licked at the fluids daring to escape. We both sat back for a moment and caught our breath. With a small smirk and light laugh Rudy stared at me. "What?" I chuckled. "I'm gonna fuck you so good..I haven't came that hard since high school." He said in amazement. All I could do was smile at his promise.

Rudy's POV:

She looked so good on her knees for me. Her hair is a mess no thanks to me. Also lipstick smeared, mascara running down her cheeks, a mix of cum and spit slipping from her swollen lips, once again all me. I saw her catch her breath and lick her lips, swallowing the mixture. She is so beautiful, I couldn't help but let out a giggle while watching her. "What?" She let her own giggle slip out. "I'm gonna fuck you so good..I haven't came that hard since high school." I meant it too. Every word. Her smile was enough to let me know she was happy about my statement.

We took a few more breaths before I pulled her up onto my lap. I held her close and captured her lips with my own. My hands cupped her ass and squeezed every time her hips grinded into me.

Y/N was desperate to get my shirt off. I sat there naked, with a pretty girl, clothed, in my lap. My hands wandered under her shirt, and she helped me remove it from her body. She whined every time our lips were pulled away from each other, which made my dick twitch under her.

When our lips found the others again, we kissed with much hunger and even more passion. What I said in the car came back to me. Something about not smearing her lipstick on me next time. Too fuckin' late. It's true we did like each other, and I'm mentally kicking myself for having sex with her before taking her on a date first. Though we both agreed to this, I feel bad that this is how it's starting. I promised myself to definitely take her out for a nice dinner or whatever the hell she wants to do, after this.

I was thrown out of my overthinking when she left my lap. "What's wrong?" Oh no. Could she hear my thoughts? I squinted and began to think of random things, testing out the telekinesis.

Pizza.

42.

Barbie.

Super Mario Bros.

Y/N.

Her perfect tits.

Her plump ass.

Her stripping in front of me.

Wait.

Her stripping in front of me?!

I was pulled back in, again. This time she was standing in front of me, giving me a strip tease. Y/N wiggled her ass in my face while she was bent over and shimmying out of her pants. My dick was standing at attention, waiting to get fondled. I couldn't help myself. My right hand found my dick and slowly pumped, I was still a little sensitive but I overall didn't give a shit. My left hand reached out and slapped her ass. She hadn't expected it based on her little jump. That only excited me more when I saw it jiggle. Her delicate fingers found her pretty lace thong and tugged down slowly. My jaw nearly dropped when I saw her dripping wet cunt.

Once again I couldn't contain myself. I let go of my cock and spread her legs. My hands squeezed her ass at the same time my tongue played with her perfect pussy. She tipped forward and placed her hands on the coffee table, trying to steady her shaky legs. I felt like I could bust again just from her moans alone. They were so small and precious, my eyes rolled back from the mix of her moans and the taste of her pussy.

Next I shoved my tongue inside her tight hole, swirling it around, making sure I reached every spot I possibly could. Like the needy little girl she is..she started pushing back onto my tongue. Y/N was fucking herself with my tongue. I could only ever dream of this moment.

"Fuck- I'm gonna cum.." She whined. Her legs were shaking as my tongue only quickened its movements. My fingers found her clit, and moved in harsh circles in hopes of tipping her over the edge. My other arm wrapped around her waist to support her when she releases.

"Oh Rudy, fuck-!" She humped my tongue again as her liquid poured out of her juicy pussy and onto my tongue. I swallowed every drop before I turned her around and pulled her onto my lap again.

Y/N took my head in her hands and our mouths made a mess together. Her hands pulled on my golden locks while my hands snaked between us. I grabbed my cock and teased her entrance with my tip. "Please.." She begged, gasping for air. "Please what baby? Use your words." I teased. "Mmm please fuck me.." She whined rolling her head back.

I didn't waste anymore time teasing. My dick slipped right inside of her. We both let out a hiss as she slid down onto my cock. "Mmm.. so good.." She whimpered while my hips rocked softly back and forth. Y/N gently grinded down on my dick, simply being needy. "C'mon Rudy... please..." She whined some more.

I couldn't handle it anymore, so I flipped our position, she was laying on the couch with me on top of her. My dick never slipped out of her either. Before I moved inside of her, I brought my lips to hers. Our moans consumed each other as my hips slapped against hers. "Oh fuck mmm...Y/N..." I grunted into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back and I quickened my pace. "Hard-harder..." She breathed out. What my girl wants, she gets, so I pounded harder against her. I felt her sweet little pussy start to clench around me and I knew she was almost there. I felt her nails start digging into my back which was almost enough to throw me over. "I'm gonna cum Rudy- I'm gonna cum..." Y/N panted. Never thought I'd hear those words come from her perfect pink lips, but I'm glad they came out. "Me too baby, mmm cum with me.." I said grunting as I pulled myself from her pussy. Her fingers found her clit and she screamed my name. That was enough for me as I fisted my cock. My cum shot out onto her, covering almost every part of her. Some hit her face, a good bit landed on her tits, and the rest spilled onto her stomach. We were riding out our highs together, catching our breaths.

We both let out a loving laugh when we came back down. "Can't believe that just happened.." She giggled. "In a good way or bad way?" I questioned. She rolled her eyes and told me good obviously. Just wanted to hear her say it. "So where does our relationship stand?" She asked sheepishly. "Where do you want it to stand? I'm happy to throw a label on this baby." I pointed my first finger back and forth between us. "I wanna be with you..." She said while twiddling her fingers. I could feel my heart nearly burst out of my chest from her confession. I nodded and pulled her onto me so we were cuddling. "I want the same thing baby." I pressed a small kiss to her lips. "Will you be my girlfriend?" I asked, praying that she wasn't playing with my feelings. "It would be an honor." She smiled and kissed my lips with a bit of passion. "Wanna go again?" Y/N asked, full of eagerness. She bit her lip as she awaited my response. I bit my lip and nodded. She came closer before I pulled her down to kiss me again. Never have I ever thought of a better way to end my night.

[crguang]

games people play

You belong on the stage, you think, under blinding lights and at the forefront of an applauding audience. Most importantly, you only care to play along if Kafka stars in the play right alongside you.

afab!reader, kinda fluffy actually, smut, toys used, kafka is strapped and im not talking about the gun, dom!kafka, sub!bratty reader, some edging, rope play, kinda possessive kafka, 6.3k words…

A/N: this got away from me. i have nothing to say for myself.

Infiltration missions are your favorite; slipping into another person’s skin for a few hours, coming up with traits both obnoxious and serious in nature and performing in front of a naive, ignorant audience fills you with exhilaration.

Improvisation is even better, the anxiety of making up things on the fly feels like a hundred little bees buzzing in your stomach and you’ve grown so accustomed to its uneasiness by now that you often seek it out, it’s become a sort of addiction. Your team doesn’t understand— Silver Wolf prefers causing trouble from behind a screen and away from the action unless she needs to stretch her legs, Blade has too much on his mind to bother adding different characters into the mix, Firefly dreams to only live as herself. None of them share your excitement for acting and it would have been a great disappointment if it wasn’t for Kafka. Beautiful, guarded, eccentric Kafka. Constantly in search of adrenaline and always in movement, she is the only other member of your little illicit troupe of performers. Being with her is often the same as stepping on stage, what with all the half-truths and misleading statements, she is hidden under layers of costumes sometimes extravagant and other times impressively mundane. Even now, if she truly wishes to keep you at bay, you won’t be able to read her. It’s intoxicating. She plays you like the lines of a movie and together, under glaring lights and unsuspecting spectators, you dominate the stage.

You’re clasping the buttons of your shirt at the wrists, often slipping and having to start over, but despite the faint feeling of annoyance as you get dressed, you’re excited. Another evening of performing is ahead of you and it’s in times like this where you truly enjoy the work of the Stellaron Hunters. Having to blend in, to navigate a crowd of arrogant businessmen and pretentious admirers of the arts in order to steal the prized item of this auction feels like a scene straight out of a spy movie. What’s better is that you’re not meant to do this alone; Silver Wolf will be on comms as usual, hacking into the building to assure that the infiltration goes smoothly and Kafka will be right by your side, gloved hand in yours. Pre-performance jitters tingle your fingertips and toes. The sensation is welcome.

You tuck your shirt into your slacks and buckle the belt around your waist. You can hear shuffling and rummaging from the bathroom connected to the bedroom because of its open door. You pick the tie you laid out on the bed with the rest of your outfit earlier and wrap it around your neck, fiddling with it for some time before accepting the fact that you have no idea how to tie a tie and letting out a sigh of frustration. This is your first time wearing such a professional-looking suit complete with the loafers and tie, and you don’t know how to feel about it. It was slightly altered by your request, so it isn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. You stand in front of the full length mirror with your undone tie, turning this way and that. Your hair is done in a style you like and with the shoes on you have to admit that you look nice.

You hear the faucet being turned on in the bathroom and stalk towards it.

“Can you tie this for me?” You ask as you step inside and glance at the mess of beauty products on the counter. Some of them are yours used in your hair, but most are Kafka’s. This is her room, after all.

Kafka’s applying a thin coat of mascara on her lashes when you walk in, focused on her reflection in the mirror. She doesn’t spare you a glance until she puts the brush back into its tube, flutters her eyelashes a couple times and deems her work perfect. She turns to you, an amused smile growing on her lips at the tie resting around your neck.

“Don’t know how?” Kafka steps into your space and runs her fingers over the fabric. She starts to loop it around and over itself as you stand.

“Never had to learn.”

From this close, you can appreciate the eyeshadow at the corner of her eyes and the highlights on the apple of her cheeks. She hasn’t put on perfume yet or finished doing her lips, but she’s dressed in a form-fitting dark magenta dress that ends a little above her ankles, with thin straps and an open back. You feel no shame observing her backside through the mirror since she’s facing away from it. She’s stupidly gorgeous; you bring your eyes back to the dangling pearl earrings in her ears and the few strands of hair that cover them. If for some reason she stands out from the crowd tonight, it’ll be because she’s the most beautiful person in the room.

Kafka finishes tying your tie and pats your chest twice. She steps back and looks you over with a hum and a couple knuckles under her chin. When her gaze travels back up to meet yours, you catch a shimmer of appreciation in it.

“Well, you look dashing,” she says, her eyes following the movements of your hands as you smooth out your shirt.

You grin playfully, approaching her to lightly rest your hands on her waist. “The suit is doing it for you, isn’t it?”

Kafka lifts your chin with two fingers. “It is.”

Her honesty makes you huff out a laugh and the smile on her lips grows somewhat at the sound.

“I’ll have to come up with excuses to get you to wear it more often.”

“You could just ask.”

“That’s boring.”

You roll your eyes, glancing at the watch on your left wrist. “We have to meet Silver Wolf outside in 20 minutes.” You lean forward to plant a chaste kiss on her lips before letting go and leaving her to her makeup.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re shrugging on your coat when Kafka emerges from the bathroom to clasp a necklace around her neck and put on her heels. She carefully handles her own coat as she takes it out of the closet, putting it over her shoulders to complete her look. Her hair is secured in a low ponytail, as usual. The chain of her pendant rests between her breasts and the low neckline of her dress draws your attention to her chest for half a minute while you wait for her near the door.

You meet up with Silver Wolf with two minutes to spare and set off for the venue. It’s this city’s grandest museum, its marble columns can be seen from a distance as you approach in car. The streets are bustling with activity, glowing lights are shining on skyscrapers and stores have their doors open to assure a healthy flow for the customers coming in and out of them. The arts are greatly valued here, it shows in the pristine buildings and advertisements all around. You know it’s only because this is a richer neighborhood and surmise that the rest of the city doesn’t look as well put together. The ride to the museum is filled with Silver Wolf’s rock music in the speakers. Everything is in place, the comms she gave you are installed and all that’s left is to put on a show that the audience won’t forget.

Silver Wolf acts as your valet when you reach the venue and step out of the car, Kafka’s hand in yours. She slips into the driver’s seat and drives off to park somewhere close and inconspicuous. She’ll be supervising the mission from the back seat while the two of you do the heavy lifting.

Kafka curls a hand around your arm as you walk up the steps of the museum. You feel a little smug knowing that she’s here with you, at your arm. Getting inside is child’s play; your invitations are checked and the metal detector is no match for Silver Wolf’s genius tech, not that you’d ever tell her that. The interior is as impressive as its outside, with high ceilings, ceramic floors and precious artifacts displayed inside tall glass cases. You and Kafka make your way to where the Attouine Universal Auction will take place in one system hour, stopping to mingle with previously chosen targets on the way. You mingle among the upper crust, politicians, businessmen, academics alike so that Kafka can use her Spirit Whisper on them. The guest list isn’t large, only up to a total of 67 people, including you two. Lying to them is easy, pretending to be in love with Kafka is easier and you’re actually having fun half an hour in.

Kafka doesn’t let you do all the talking, she has no issue following your train of thought and assuring her advantage in the conversation. It’s admirable and effortless, you don’t get tired of seeing her in action. She has a champagne flute in one hand, occasionally pensively stirring the clear liquid inside. Her smile is rehearsed and comes as naturally as breathing when a couple sparks up a conversation with you. You’re happy to play along in front of the short woman and her husband, judging by the wedding band on her finger.

“What a beautiful pair you two make,” the brunette says, an air of forced politeness about her. She seems a little out of place, like she’s not used to these kinds of events. You guess that she’s only accompanying her husband to them and that he’s actually the one with recognition.

Her husband, however, stands with his chin high and his shoulders straight. He belongs there, or believes he does, and makes a show of showing everyone else.

You take Kafka’s hand in yours and bring it to your lips. “Thank you. She’s a diamond, isn’t she?”

The man follows the motion with his eyes but his wife replies before he can open his mouth. You hear Silver Wolf gag over the comms.

“Oh, how cute! Have you been together long?”

“A year, just about,” Kafka answers, looking at you. “This one’s always a charmer.”

“I can see that!”

You smile. “I’ve got to keep you around somehow… I’m aware of what a blessing you are.”

A sparkle of amusement shines in Kafka’s eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly at your cheesy reply. You maintain your facade, but you also feel like laughing at how silly you sound. It’s not an untrue statement per se… it’s just weird to say such things out loud because all the both of you do is beat around the bush when it comes to genuine emotion. You’re playing a character but it feels a little like the lines between fiction and reality are blurring.

In your ear, Silver Wolf groans, “One more corny line and you’re getting muted. You both disgust me.”

The woman poses a hand on her husband’s arm, addressing him while keeping her eyes on you. “They’re just like us, aren’t they, Len?”

Your gaze flickers to his at the mention of his name and he immediately looks away into the distance to pretend he wasn’t staring at the necklace between Kafka’s breasts. You feel a faint tinge of annoyance flare up inside your chest.

“Yes, very lovely,” he says, faking the unbothered tone of his voice.

You don’t know what offends you the most; his atrocious acting or his unashamed ogling.

“I notice neither of you are wearing rings,” the woman continues with interest. “Will things be made official in the near future, perhaps…?”

Kafka lets out a chuckle— you can tell it’s a genuine one— and turns to you with a teasing smirk, “Oh, I don’t know… will they?”

You feel the familiar sensation of bees in your belly as you’re put on the spot. All three of them expect your answer so you decide to play Kafka’s game. You meet her stare with the most innocent, lovesick look you can muster, your thumb rubbing the base of her ring finger. You find that you don’t have to try that hard.

“I don’t know about the near future, but… I know I’ve never been in love before knowing her.”

Kafka’s face doesn’t change, her meticulously practiced mask never slips, and you look at each other with equally heavy stares. Time seems to slow if only for the few seconds it takes for your new acquaintance to make an exaggerated sound of excitement. The moment breaks, you both look away at the same time and the conversation quickly resumes with pointless inquiries about your (fake?) relationship and the auction.

After some time, you glance at your watch and feel somewhat vindicated by the fact that the auction will start soon, giving you a reason to excuse yourself from the conversation. You’re also excited by what will happen next.

“It was nice meeting you both,” you offer the woman a smile and a nod, not dwelling on the blush of her cheeks, “but we have to find our seats. It’d be a shame to be all the way at the back with so many almost priceless items on display tonight.”

She laughs quietly and you miss the furtive look Kafka sends your way.

“Of course, of course…” The brunette sighs, then smiles sweetly. “Maybe we’ll end up seated next to each other.”

You don’t say anything to that. Kafka politely bids them goodbye and walks in the opposite direction, the hand laced with yours tugging you along. You meet with the rest of the guests, spark up short conversations from every corner of the room. Despite enjoying your performance, you find your audience lacking. Arrogance and pretentiousness reside in every business man, celebrity, political figure that you talk to and you quickly develop disdain for almost every person at this event. None of them deserve the social advantage that they have; you feel restless with the desire to humble them.

With each guest filing into the auction room until all the seats are filled, it’s time for the next part of the script to unfold. You take your seats at the front right near the small built-in stage. Two staff members carefully roll out the auction items as the auctioneer steps before the microphone and greets his audience. Kafka’s hand is on your knee, forefinger tracing insignificant patterns into the fabric of your pants while you wait for the last and most important item to be presented. The Stellaron, trapped inside a large, almost translucent mineral, emits an energy felt by the entire room as it’s brought on stage in a glass case. It glitters in the light like a precious jewel and catches the attention of each buyer. Kafka squeezes your knee once. It’s go time.

Stealing the Stellaron is laughably easy. Due to Kafka’s Spirit Whisper, not a single member of the audience can find the strength to stand up from their seat as you hop to your feet and saunter on stage. The auctioneer stammers about it not being allowed, but he’s dealt with just as the others are and soon, he’s frozen where he stands, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Confused murmurs and panicked shouts fill the air when the guests realize their predicament, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kafka handles the Stellaron with care while you browse the selection of items on display with a pensive hum.

An antique vase catches your eye. It curves at the top and opens like a blooming flower; designs that mean nothing to you seem carved right into the glass, so you take it out if it’s case for a closer look. It’s a bit heavy despite measuring less than two feet. You decide to keep it and eventually gift it to Kafka knowing she would be able to find the beauty in it. As the clamor of people’s voices rise around you, an idea strikes you. You turn to Kafka.

“The script only said we would steal the Stellaron and leave the museum at 20:56 system time…”

A small smile appears on Kafka’s lips. “What are you thinking?”

“This place reeks of supposed social superiority,” you trail your fingers on top of a case containing an old ceramic disk with contrasting colors and patterns. You push it off the table and it explodes into cutting shards. Amidst the chaos, loud gasps of indignation follow. “I want to tear it down.”

Kafka’s smile widens.

Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way back to the base exactly as Elio foresaw, with Silver Wolf in the driver's seat making a quick getaway as the museum’s alarms sound behind you. You huff out a breathy laugh once in the back seat, heart thundering in your chest from the adrenaline. You had to incapacitate some security guards on the way out, the chase is your second favorite part. It feels great, your fingertips twitch with exhilaration as the car swerves between other vehicles on the road, ignoring red lights and stop signs. Kafka leans on the head rest next to you, looking at you with something you can’t fully decipher. In the darkness of the backseat it’s hard to read her gaze, especially with her contacts on, but you recognize the way her eyes flicker between yours, then to your mouth. She doesn’t have to say anything, your hands suddenly cup her cheeks and your lips crash into hers. The breath is knocked out of you with both her kiss and the lingering adrenaline. Her hand snakes around your neck to bring you closer, her teeth sink into your bottom lip when she pulls away for half a second. She’s rougher than usual with a sense of urgency accompanying her touches; her free fingers sneak under your coat to grip your shirt.

“Can you not?” Silver Wolf makes a noise of disgust and her sudden intervention pulls you out of the daze you were in. “I swear, I’ll crash this stupid car.”

Kafka chuckles, separating herself from you. Her hand stays beneath your coat. “Don’t be so dramatic. A mission well done deserves a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s not in front of me.”

“We’re behind you…” you mutter, inhaling deeply to calm your shaky hands.

You ignore the middle finger Silver Wolf sends your way. You lean into the seat, eyes closed, and regain full control of your body with a few slow breaths. Kafka’s hand trails down your shirt to your lap. As you turn your head to look at her, you find her gaze already on you. The unfamiliar glint in it is still present, seemingly making her irises darker, then the corners of her mouth lift in a softer smile than she’d normally offer you.

“Let’s play a round of Truth or Lie,” she says suddenly.

Apart from being a fun game you both enjoy, it’s somewhat become your way of discussing serious matters without having to lay yourselves bare. The existence of a lie adds a layer of protection that neither of you can go without. You tilt your head at the suggestion.

“Okay. You start.”

Kafka takes a few seconds to reply, as if thinking of how to phrase her question. You’re careful to school your features into a picture of neutrality so as to not be caught off guard. She hums, then speaks up.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, to that woman?”

You don’t need to ask for clarification on what she’s referring to. Though her smile hasn’t slipped off her face, Kafka’s expression is guarded.

“Am I that good a liar you couldn’t tell?” You tease, an eyebrow raised.

“Is that one of your questions?”

You look past her as you think. Yes, something in you meant what you said then. You recognize this certainty, it’s as real as the earlier thrill in your veins. Being with Kafka is never boring, always brings something new, and you’ve never felt this way before meeting her. It’s an electrifying feeling that travels from your toes to wake the rest of your body, not unlike a shock, except that this is something you can’t help but crave. Beyond the curtains of this beautiful stage you act in lies a sort of yearning for more of how she makes you feel, of her hand in yours as you reenact this rehearsed play of two emotionally guarded beings finding closeness in each other. Are you in love with her? Yes, you are.

“No,” you shake your head, “to answer your first question. I was in character.”

Kafka stares at you for a moment, searching your face for the truth. You smile at her.

“Mm. You turn.”

Your fingers fiddle with her hand on your lap. Silver Wolf takes a sharper turn than necessary and the car swerves to the right. “Are you disappointed by my answer?”

“…No. I’m not.”

You can’t read her at all. You suppose that’s the point of the game. You arrive at your destination before you can finish the round and Silver Wolf wastes no time in hopping out of the car and into the building. There’s a spring in your step as you follow suit with Kafka in tow.

You’re already working towards unbuttoning your coat and uncuffing your shirt when you step into Kafka’s dark room. She flicks the switch behind you, illuminating the room. She takes off her earrings and you take a seat on the bed after slipping out of your loafers. You stretch your arms above your head, letting out a long sigh. Kafka discards her jewelry on top of a dresser.

“You know…” she turns to you before leaning into the furniture and looking you over like she did earlier this evening. You stop loosening your tie as she speaks, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You feel a playful smile stretch your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm. You nearly had that poor woman combusting in place.”

Your brows furrow briefly as you recall the exchange. You viewed her interest as superficial, something she felt compelled to be because of how obviously uneasy social events of that nature made her. It showed in the way she clung to her husband and how clumsy she was at navigating the conversation. Still, Kafka’s words are laced with a tinge of possessiveness you almost never see in her. A smirk slowly spreads across your face.

“She had a husband,” you remind her.

“Who spent half the conversation looking at my chest. They likely had nothing between them. But you knew that.”

You did not. You genuinely thought she was overcompensating and were too busy playing a clip of her husband getting fatally injured over and over in your mind after catching his eyes on Kafka. It’s funny that she would think you were flirting on purpose, though.

Kafka takes slow strides towards you. She stands in front of you and a bare foot slides between your calves to nudge them apart. You take hold of her waist, looking up at her with an innocent smile.

“You liked the attention,” she states with a finger under your chin. She wears a smile as her other hand comes up to strike your hair.

“You sound jealous.”

Kafka laughs softly, fingers splaying out over your cheek. Her thumb soothingly rubs your skin. You resist the urge to close your eyes. “Cute. What’s there to be jealous of when you’re pliable in my hands?” Her knee sinks into the mattress between your legs and she leans closer. “A block of clay to be shaped and molded. That’s what you are.”

“And you’re so eager to put your hands on me, to have me for yourself that another woman laughing at my jokes tickles you.”

Her thumb traces the outline of your bottom lip. “Eager?”

“Like a pup.”

Her smile doesn’t waver. She pushes her digit past your lips and it gets caught between your teeth as you make a noise of surprise at the sudden intrusion. You relax after a second, your tongue swirling around her finger while you maintain eye contact with her. There’s a dangerous heat in the way she looks at you, an unsaid warning that you choose to ignore.

“Brat.” Kafka takes her thumb out of your mouth and observes how it shines in the light. “You know what I do with them, don’t you?”

“You fuck them?”

The smile on her face grows larger. The way she touches you is inherently condescending, the overly sweet strokes of your hair and fake gentleness as she cups your cheek and leans close to you as if to kiss you are subtle reminders of her control over you. You stare into her eyes with fluttering eyelashes.

“Sweet girls get orgasms. A brat like you, on the other hand…”

You feel her breath on your parted lips and expect a kiss that doesn’t come. Instead Kafka tears herself from you and straightens up. Your hands leave her waist as she takes a step back and brings her hand to her chin in contemplation.

“I think I’ll tie you up.”

She does just that. You bite your bottom lip to muffle a whine, wrists absentmindedly tugging against their pretty, silken restraints. Kafka’s ropes hold your arms above your head to each corner of the headboard and slightly dig into your skin the more your muscles struggle. She effortlessly ties you up like a lovely present before you can prepare a snarky remark. The pink webs obey her command, unlike you, and keep you in place while she climbs over you to leisurely undress you. She starts at your neck, loosening your tie to place wet kisses on your skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh and she is without remorse when you hiss at the sensation. She suckles the bite, her tongue occasionally darting out to soothe the mark in slow strokes. Her hands expertly undo the button of your shirt without needing to look at her work. You feel her warm tongue trailing down to your collarbone as she removes your shirt. One of her knees stays between your thighs, unmoving.

Kafka lifts her head to look at the reveal of your skin once your shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor. Her palms travel up and down your stomach, squeeze at the waist and knead your covered breasts over your bra, all the while following their movements with lidded eyes. You swallow. You don’t say a word because you know she’ll go even slower if pressured to pick up the pace, but your skin is hot and your cunt already pulses between your legs at her tame ministrations. Kafka pulls down the cup of your bra with a finger, freeing a hardened nipple.

“Erect already?” She teases. “I only took off your shirt.”

“Shut up,” the words leave your mouth without thinking and your lips part in surprise when she uses two fingers to harshly twist your nipple. “Ah!”

“Wanna try again?”

You take a breath. “Acting like I’m the eager one when I know you’ve already ruined your pan— Mmh!”

Pleasure courses through you as your nipple is pinched between her fingertips. Her hands run around your chest to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, then resume their work on your breasts. Her thumbs swipe over your nipples, applying pressure that pathetically quickens your breathing. Kafka licks her lips but doesn’t use her mouth on you. She watches how your plush mounds move under her hands and take whatever shape she wants them to. She grabs a handful of each breast, squeezing and kneading until you’re exhaling through your mouth. Then she slowly moves down to your hips, rubbing the skin. She has to adjust her position in order to take off your pants and she settles between your thighs once the task is done.

Your thighs spread apart to accommodate her body. Kafka looks up at you, amused, but doesn’t comment on the gesture. Her palms rub into your soft skin, trailing up and down your inner thighs. A dark spot spreads from where arousal dampens your gray underwear.

“If only you could see how wet you’re getting,” she sighs lustfully, “maybe we should do this in front of the mirror. What do you think?”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the suggestion. Kafka hooks a forefinger under your underwear and pulls to reveal your glistening sex. Her voice lowers perceivably.

“Mm? Is thinking about me fucking you in front of a mirror getting you all wet?”

Her index trails down your folds and touches your clit as it does, making you suck your lip into your mouth to keep in a low moan. Kafka observes her finger between your lips, how your arousal coats the better part of it as it teases your pussy. She’ll have you a complete sticky mess before the night is over. The thought makes her cunt clench. She slides your panties down your legs until they no longer hide your puffy pussy from her sight. She uses two fingers to spread your lips and looks up at you.

“If you were well-behaved, I’d be licking you clean right now. Too bad you’re not.”

You groan in slight frustration. “Come on. Just fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, I’ll fuck you.” Kafka’s eyes narrow. She pulls her fingers away from your cunt completely. “And when I do, you won’t be able to remember a thing but how good I feel inside you.”

Kafka stands upright, ignoring your little whine to rummage through her drawers instead. She picks up a couple of things and you’re breathless when you see the strap-on and vibrator in her hands as she returns to your side. Your thighs clench together in a fruitless attempt at relieving pressure in your lower belly. You feel your arousal on your inner thighs, coating them in sticky juices. Kafka waves a hand and silk threads wrap around your flesh, forcing you to keep your legs spread for her. You try to move but apart from the quiver of your muscles, nothing happens.

“You haven’t earned that one yet,” Kafka gestures with the plastic cock and tosses it on the bed. She turns the small vibrator over in her palm, messing around with the settings until she finally settles on the lowest one. It pulses as it’s pressed against your cunt and you don’t bother covering up the moan that escapes you. “This will do for now.”

The vibrations on your pussy are so good, so relieving you throw your head back with a breathy moan. You feel each one reverberate through your body and soon, your hips are trying to move along for more friction. You buck your hips, hoping the movement will make it touch your clit for even a second. Kafka watches your growing desperation with apathy. She runs the vibrator up and down your slit, purposely ignoring your aching clit. Positioning it at your entrance covers the head in arousal and she’s tempted to push it in just to see how your cunt greedily sucks in anything she gives you. She makes you suffer longer, caresses your labia with the toy and pulls it away when she sees you clench from the pleasure. With it being at the lowest setting, the throb is a welcomed sensation but isn’t enough to make you come. Trying to move your body is useless; the thin ropes around your limbs keep you exactly how Kafka wants you: defenseless.

You inhale sharply through your mouth as she rubs the toy into your cunt. You know begging won’t help your cause and will only serve to humiliate you. Pleading to her good conscience is just as worthless, but you need to come so badly and Kafka will only allow you to do it on her terms. So, you provoke her.

“That— Mmh, that woman from the auction,” you manage to breathe out, and Kafka instantly meets your eyes. “Bet… she’d be so eager to make me come if I asked.”

Kafka doesn’t move for a moment. The vibrator is still pressed against your pussy, making you let out little whines, but her hand isn’t moving and she’s simply looking at you like she’s trying to figure you out. You know she sees through you, your mind is too taken by the idea of pleasure to bother hiding yourself from her searching gaze. She seems to debate with herself on something and when you think she just won’t bite your bait, she turns off the vibrator. You watch as she stands to let her dress slip to the floor. Apprehension curls around your throat as she steps into the harness of the strap-on and adjusts it around her hips. Her silence makes your gut flutter with nervousness. Then she chuckles to herself and that only worsens the feeling.

Kafka hovers over you, fingers digging into your skin as she grabs your jaw and guides your gaze to hers. Her nails will surely leave crescent marks behind, but you can only focus on the dull pink of her irises. With her free hand, she guides the plastic cock between your folds, coating it in your slick and grazing your clit in the process. Your following moan is muffled by the grip on your jaw. She spreads your arousal over the dick, pumping it once, twice, three times before her sticky fingers grip your waist and she pushes half of the length into you at once.

You groan in surprise, unaccustomed to the sudden fullness. You feel the toy stretching your walls and Kafka doesn’t allow you to get used to the sensation before thrusting the entirety of it inside your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, w— wait…” you gasp out, wrists struggling against the ropes and thighs trembling. “I was—” A whimper escapes you as Kafka pulls out almost completely just to drive into you again. “Was joking, baby…”

“Shut up and take it.”

You have no choice but to comply. Kafka thrusts into you, unrelenting and apathetic to the way the sensations overwhelm you instantly after so much teasing. Her dick rubs your walls deliciously and the wet sounds of it pounding into you has you choking out a cry. You don’t get used to the pace, it’s too rough, too fast, and has your orgasm building after only a minute of her inside you. You can’t last, not with Kafka playing you as rigorously as she does the violin, fingers digging into the flesh of your love handle for stability. You take her cock as she orders you to and whimper against her lips when she leans forward to press her mouth to yours for the first time tonight. Her kiss is as rough as her strokes, leaving you breathless, a mindless puppet only able to mutter her name. As her tongue enters your mouth to tease yours, the hand around your jaw leaves so that her middle finger harshly rubs your clit. It’s too much for you to handle at once. Your cunt swallows her cock as you come with her name out your lips, squeezing her like a vice.

Kafka doesn’t slow down her thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm and maintaining the pressure on your pulsing clit until you feel another one coming.

“Kafka—” You whine, throat hoarse, “too much…”

“Mmh? That’s what you wanted. Be grateful I didn’t leave you there, cunt aching for me to fill you. You’ll take what I give you.”

Her eyes drink you in, she commits your twisting brows and trembling lips to memory; her mind takes live pictures of you under her, whimpering as you greedily take her cock, until there’s an entire gallery of your fucked out expression inside her head. The sight makes her wetter and needy for release, but it’s not enough. With an arm around your shoulder and the use of her webs, Kafka manipulates your weak body into straddling her lap as she sits up on the bed. Your wrists are still tied together, your arms around her neck, but your thighs quiver as the ropes vanish around them. She holds you up with two hands on your hips and pushes you down onto her length. Your eyes are closed, your lips parted, and you let her guide you up and down her cock until you’re coming again. Kafka watches your slick slide down the dildo and groans, wishing she could pump her own cum into your cunt and watch it leak out of you as she fills you. The toy is drenched in cum and she doesn’t look away as it disappears inside your throbbing pussy, can’t; she feels her own slick run down her thighs just from watching how messy you’re getting her cock.

“Can’t take it,” you breathe out, “mmh…”

Kafka looks up at you. She briefly takes your nipple in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, before letting go and murmuring into your skin, “You can, baby. You’re taking me so well.”

You whine, hips faltering. The length of her cock buries into you in a harsh thrust upwards and you can’t make a sound as you come hard, your face in Kafka’s neck. Your arms shake from the pleasure that assaults you at once. Your toes curl and the breath leaves your lungs. Kafka doesn’t pull out as you come down from your high a panting mess. Your limbs feel twice as heavy. Her hand strokes your hair while you breathe in and out sharply. She gives you some time to calm down, then pulls you away from her neck with the hand in your hair and kisses you messily; you feel her tongue on your bottom lip and her saliva mix with yours. She breathes out into your open mouth, a low moan escaping her.

Kafka squeezes your hip and mutters into your mouth, “You’ll give me another one, won’t you?”

Though it’s phrased as one, you know it’s not a question at all. This is what you get for provoking her, and she won’t stop until she’s entirely satisfied.

[musaslullaby]

Perfect hair

Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: Due to a dare, you have complete control over Carlos's hair.

Warning: Nothing just fluff.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·

It was an innocent game at least until they brought Carlos's hair into it as a dare. Honestly, he didn't care much, but he started to worry seriously when they told him I would be the one to style his hair.

"Come on, Carlos, don't you trust me?" I asked, pouting as my boyfriend quickly moved away from me.

"Mi amor, yo trust you, I just don't believe in your hairdressing skills," he replied, and I pouted at those words. However, our friends encouraged Carlos, who kept refusing to let his beloved girlfriend touch his hair.

Lando stood up with a mischievous grin, trying to push the Spaniard into the bathroom of our shared house.

"Okay, Carlos, we won't let her touch your shiny and silky hair." Carlos, naively, followed him, rolling his eyes. When he realized where his best friend was leading him, he pulled away from the grip and started running around the house, chased by his ex-teammate.

The scene was quite hilarious; I couldn't stop laughing at how cute they were.

With a stealthy step, I approached Carlos. "Please, my love, I promise not to burn your hair," I said, wrapping my hands gently around his torso.

"Ay, mi amor…"

And so, we all gathered in the bathroom. Lando was filming while I, like a true hairdresser, explained all the steps.

"First, we wash the hair," I said, smiling as I turned on the tap. Carlos grunted in disapproval at the excessively hot water.

"Sorry," I quickly said, and to make it up to him, I gave him a massage both when I applied the shampoo and the conditioner.

"Guys, here you see a relaxed Carlos for the first time," said Lando, capturing the paradisiacal expression on the boy's face as he closed his eyes, enjoying the attention I was giving him.

"I'm always relaxed, cabrón."

Shortly after, I dried his hair at a low temperature, trying in some strange way to style it.

"How is it?" I asked my boyfriend. He looked in the mirror, fixing a stray hair, and turned to me laughing.

"Mi vida, te amo," he said, giving me a sweet, light kiss on the lips.

The next day, at the track, everyone was complimenting Carlos's hair. During an interview in the paddock, instead of talking about race prospects, the journalist asked him about his new look. Carlos laughed, briefly explaining the story behind his new style and praising my improvised hairdressing skills.

"It was an interesting experience," Carlos said, laughing. "But I must admit the result was surprisingly good."

The race was exciting, and in the end, Carlos managed to get on the podium. When he took off his helmet, his hair was still perfectly in place. On Twitter, there was nothing else being talked about: Lando's video and Carlos's impeccable hair after the race had gone viral.

Back home, we celebrated Carlos's success. Sitting on the couch, Lando kept teasing him about his "new career" as a hairstyle model.

"You know," I said to Carlos as I hugged him, "we could make this a pre-race tradition. What do you think?"

He looked at me with a smile and infinitely loving eyes. "I would love that, but only if you're the one doing it."

We spent the rest of the evening laughing and reading online comments, happy to have shared such a special moment. And so, every time Carlos had an important race, I made sure to give him a little special treatment, becoming part of his lucky ritual.

[molotovmetro]

The 141 + König with a s/o who goes non-verbal

Tiny disclaimer: im autistic and have moments of being non verbal during breakdowns etc, so this is based mostly off of my own experience, but if anyone feels like ive said inaccurate or offensive things, please let me know as that would never be my intention. The way I've written this suggests this is a negative feeling (, since thats how i experience it) but I understand that might not be the same for everyone. For some people this might just be a daily or

Requested by @apocalypticseagull

Warnings: mentions of stress and the slightest hint at possible injury, besides that nothing I can think of

M!reader

Ghost

Ghost relates to you. While he wouldn't claim his experience is the same, he gets moments of overstimulation where he wants everyone to leave him alone, and will just stop reacting to people.

When he feels like this, he prefers to sit in his room, either completely in the dark or with only a small lamp on, and have as little noise around him as possible.

If you're in a stress situation, not knowing what else to do to help you, that's what he'll resort to.

He'll take you into either his room or yours, whichever you would prefer, and holds you while letting you get away from all the triggers for a bit. Unless you're dealing with life or death situations, whatever work you have left for the day can wait. Your wellbeing always comes first.

Soap

Soap is a lot more observant than people give him credit for. He's the king of avoiding stressful situations for you whenever he can.

But alas, he can't avoid it every time. Whether you start saying less and less as the minutes go on, or just stop talking suddenly, he notices immediately.

Not that he'd be quick to admit it, but he's got a written list of everything you like, even if it's just something you mentioned in passing. He absutely will use this list to do whatever he can to make you smile and relieve some of your stress.

He'll make sure to find a way to still communicate that both of you are comfortable with. He'll happily lend you his journal to write in, or he'll ask Roach for some lessons in sign language. He'd break his back bending over backwards to make you comfortable if he had to.

Gaz

No matter how often it happens, Gaz still feels a jolt of panic whenever you don't respond over coms when you're on a mission. He almost sags in relief as soon as he hears you hum, or even just hears the crackly static of you pushing your radio's button.

He knows you're a talented soldier and you're more than capable of handling yourself, he still prefers to be near you at all times. What if something happens and you can't tell him? You could be in trouble without him even knowing. He'll, just knowing you're stressed is making him want to reach for you.

He likes his job, likes helping people and ridding the world of danger, but his favourite part of every mission is when you're sitting in the exfil helo after a good mission, and you give him that wide smile he's been waiting hours, if not days to see.

Price

You and Price have been working together for so long, you both know the drill. When he starts to notice you going quiet, he makes sure he only asks yes or no questions. On your side; one click of your radio button for no, two for yes. Throw in some improvised morse code when necessary, and you've got a solid communications system.

Having this system is also a huge bonus during stealth missions, when he can't talk freely without risking being spotted.

He loves hearing your voice, but he doesn't treat you any differently when you can't talk. He'll support you in whatever way you need, without making it feel like he's babying you.

The two of you are a well oiled machine. No matter how stressful the situation, usually you can tell what the other one is thinking just by looking at them. You know you both have each other's back, verbal communication or not.

König

König doesn't mean to make a big deal out of it, and he won't if you don't, but he does worry.

After a situation like that happens once, he commits everything that helps you to his memory, and uses the knowledge to help you the next time it happens.

Even down to the tiniest detail, he'll remember. If you don't like a certain texture or can only stand a certain flavour of drink during moments like this, he's making sure you have everything you need and are as comfortable as possible. Whatever is stressing you will be dealt with by him while you're resting and calming down.

If you want to be alone, he understands and respects that, and gives you the space you need. But if you don't, there's nowhere he'd rather be than by your side.

[moonstruckme]

Omg omg omg I love you writing so so so much!

I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders (or can be just Sirius x reader) where Sirius goes to a tattoo shop and gets a new tattoo and the reader just gets a piercing.

Just rlly cute fluff with Siri holding her hand and babying her for the rest of the day, even tho his procedure (that’s a scary word) is more painful than hers

Thank you love

XoXo

Thank you sweetheart!!

cw: mention of needle

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 607 words

Sirius’ fingers are curled around the inside of your thigh while he drives with the other hand. He hasn’t let go of you for probably a couple of hours now, since you’d first gone into the tattoo shop. At first he’d let you pretend it was for him, holding your hand while the artist inked up the side of his ribs, but it became clear pretty soon after that his touch was your security blanket. You haven’t relinquished it since. 

“Feeling good, sunshine?” he asks, pulling up in front of your place. 

He’s being a little extra gentle with you, which doesn’t seem strictly fair. He’d sat through his whole session with little coddling, didn’t even complain about your bruising hold on his hand when it was your turn. Your eyes had watered something fierce as the needle went through your septum, and Sirius’ eyebrows had pulled together distressfully. He’d brought your hand to his lips, murmuring a You got it onto your knuckles. Meanwhile, his side had to be throbbing the entire time. 

“Mhm,” you reply, brightly as you can. 

“Yeah?” He turns toward you, smiling prettily. “You look good. It suits you, gorgeous.” 

He reaches for your face, and you flinch instinctively away, backing yourself up against the passenger door. Sirius’ eyebrows rise. 

“Sorry,” you laugh at yourself. “Sorry, I just got scared you were gonna touch it.” 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a deadpan look. “I wasn’t,” he says. “Fuck, babe, give me a little credit. I’ve had piercings before. I just want a kiss.” 

He leans forward again, and again, you dodge. 

“Actually,” you squeak, “I’d feel a lot better if nothing got near my nose. For like, the next several days.” 

He blinks. “You serious?”

“No, that’s you,” you remind him. 

“Funny.” He narrows his eyes at you. “You’re really not going to let me kiss you for the next several days?” 

You shrink a bit under his gaze, the unflinching intensity of it overwhelming. He’s doing it on purpose, you know. But you won’t fold. You know how to get him back. 

You let the pressure that’s stayed stuck in the back of your throat grow, your eyes watering. “I don’t want it to hurt worse,” you say pitifully. 

Predictably, Sirius melts like ice cream on a summer day. “Aw, it still hurts, baby?” He reaches for your face, then, checking himself, detours to your shoulder. His thumb rubs at your clavicle. “Maybe we need to do a saline wash already, it could take out some of the sting.” 

You worry at your lip. You can see Sirius itching to pull it from between your teeth, but he restrains himself, settling for giving you a stern look until you stop. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

“I can do it for you,” he offers easily. “Oi, don’t look at me like that. I’m not a fucking newbie. I know what I’m doing.” 

“After,” you say tentatively, “can we put on a movie and lay for a while?” 

He grins, slipping his fingers from between your thighs to take your hand in his. He smooches your palm. “I’ve got nothing else going on today, sunshine. And I got us that ice cream for a reason.” 

You perk up, joy sparking to life in your chest. “We have ice cream?” 

“Oh, so that can come close to your face but I can’t?” 

“I’ll be very careful with my spoon,” you tell him gravely. 

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes, pulling your arm closer to smudge a kiss onto the inside of your wrist. “I can improvise.”

[manszen]

lovers in denial

pairing. fem!reader x trafalgar law.

summary. you and law like each other but both of you don't want to admit it.

contains. fluff, crack maybe, depicted during wano arc before luffy's arrival.

word count. 1.3k.

note. woohoo, my first time writing for one piece!

“i mean this in the most friendly way possible, but you are easily the most attractive person i know.”

law trips over an imaginary pebble and immediately scowls at you.

it's a wonder how the conversation went from the current issues at hand as you wait for a certain captain to reach wano, to somehow gauging law as an attractive person — and by your words, the most one at that.

he blames his current rapport with the straw hats for being so strung up all the time. he prides himself as a collected person, but that patience wear thin whenever the straw hat and his crew skip some of the details in his well-thought plan that he's left with nothing but to improvise. and it seems the disease of being caught by ill surprise has spread further in his system that even you start to affect him.

"is it your height?" you ponder, leaving him glowering behind as you continue trekking back to your hideout. "no, that's not it."

he clicks his tongue in annoyance, catching up to fall back to your steps while keeping silent. still, you wonder out loud, determined to find the reason why you end up with such a statement.

"is it your looks?" you put a lone finger under your chin, head snapping his way as you ask yourself.

your eyes catch his golden ones, before trailing them down to his lips, settling at the rough sharpness of his jaw; and he itches to tug down his hat just so he could hide away from your intense scrutiny.

"maybe?" you still sound unsure even after a long time of observing him. "i think you're much more attractive when you smile. but maybe it's because of your smart, mysterious aura?”

before law can open his mouth for a due retort, you continue on, "or maybe it's your tattoos that makes you attractive.”

the last one doesn’t sound like a question. at all. it’s more like an observation — a bold statement, if you will. and the corners of his lips somehow curl up.

you don’t even notice that you stopped walking. your gaze shifting to the tribal heart tattoo peeking on his chest, barely covered by his black yukata; and for a moment, there's an unreadable expression in your face, as if you’re imagining the whole expanse of his chest, lean muscles and all that, within the safe confines of your mind.

it’s more than enough to burn through law's already warming skin.

"hey, you’re staring," he gruffly points out, stepping ahead of you.

your eyes widen before turning all defensive on him.

"like i said,” you huff as you catch the quick stride of his long legs, “i mean that in the most friendly way. there’s not much to see back in the polar tang, you know?”

“and? you think i’m attractive simply because you have no options?”

you almost skip a step, almost falling forwards as you digest at his newfound conclusion, chuckling how it’s been the right answer all along, “that’s it! i always knew you’re a genius, captain!”

he rolls his eyes, albeit smiling at the sound of your twinkling laughter, “and what else have you been mulling over instead of helping me gather intel?”

“boo, you’re such a killjoy, captain,” you pout, kicking some random dirt like a kid. “i take it back. you’re not attractive…”

law raises a delicate brow, glancing at you with an intent to keep the playful vibe between you two. he asks then, surprisingly with mirth in his deep voice, “are you lying upfront to your captain?”

he watches, amused, as you try all your might to keep your teasing smile at bay.

“captain!”

the easygoing trance is broken when the two of you recognize bepo’s call, followed by more greetings from shachi and penguin.

“this isn’t over,” law leans down to whisper in your ear. it’s odd, but he doesn’t want the conversation with you to end just yet. still, a captain is a captain with all the duties and responsibilities.

he leaves your side with a heavy sigh and hears you chuckle at his empty warning. then, ever so softly, you say ‘aye, aye captain’. unbeknownst to him, your words bring out an incandescent smile to his face.

as he reaches the others, he’s immediately grabbed and crowded in something similar to impish teenagers.

“captain, what was that just now?”

“i swear there were flowers blossoming behind your trail!”

“and here i thought wano’s land is not cultivable.”

“cultivable? honestly, it was like watching newly weds.”

“did you run off to get married, captain?”

“are you not a virgin anymore, captain?”

these are the questions that are thrown once you’re out of earshot. one by one, he eyes the three heads in front of him: bepo, shachi, and penguin, before forcefully smacking them with the hilt of his sword.

“captain! what was that for?!” they cry out, immense pain evident on their faces.

law pinches the bridge of his nose. his once light and airy mood dissipating upon the rapid interrogation of the three, his stress returning tenfold, “where the hell did you get that idea?”

he’s simply gathering intel with you. after all, wano is a country closed to outsiders. therefore, no amount of information has been leaked to rest of the world. that and it has been under kaidou’s clutches for so long. so how come these three idiots think he’d run off to marry? while on a mission? what’s more, run off to marry you? and penguin didn’t even hold back with the last question.

even asking his virginity, really?

he feels the urge to smack penguin again, with more force to it this time, and sensing his rising anger, penguin immediately backs away. his hands raising in surrender.

“c-captain, didn’t you say you like her?” he sweats, smile nervous and teary.

“since when did i say that?” one step toward penguin, penguin doing two steps back.

“oh, w-well… shachi told me!” he squeals.

law’s head whipped around to find shachi, who’s now tightly gripping bepo’s orange boiler suit from behind.

“c-captain! haha… bepo! bepo told me!” shachi shrieks and hides from his scornful glare, as bepo yelps upon being harshly put under the spotlight.

“captain…” bepo whimpers. his eyes in near tears, furry paws clasp together as if praying his captain sees the truth behind their tittle-tattles. as law gives his undivided attention to the helpless polar bear, he realizes then that he just made a definite mistake on his part.

“i never said that,” he glowers instead, settling for the only thing he can do: admit his truth and frown upon their claims.

“well, you never denied it either,” shachi bravely comments from behind bepo, deeming it’s the safest place to survive his captain’s fury. “that’s just the same thing!”

while in the far corner of his eye, he perceives penguin breaking into more tears, maybe regretting his decision for not running behind bepo. “shachi, shut your trap,” penguin sniffles.

“but, captain,” bepo starts and law sighs in defeat, “you do like her, right?”

law tries to cool down his expression, preventing even the slightest emotion to slip through that will feed these rascals their delusions. and yet at the back of his mind, he remembers your subtle, not-so-subtle observation of him, your cute ‘aye, aye, captain’ from earlier, and all of a sudden, every fluttering butterfly comes rushing back to him.

as a medical expert, he should know what an irregular, fluffy heart rate means.

this is getting ridiculous, he thinks.

he shakes his head, banishing it all away. too quickly, he feels exhausted. he knows that when bepo, shachi and penguin have something to put their minds on, there’s no escaping it. so he grumbles, lacing a captain’s finality to his words, “just don’t put her in a position where she’ll feel uncomfortable.”

and with that, the three heart pirates swoon as if they themselves are experiencing their captain’s springtime of youth.

stealing, modifying, translating, or reposting this work on other platforms is strictly discouraged.

[hinaaspanda]

pretty boy on lockdown! | k.gv

pairing: popular guy! kim gyuvin x fem, student president! reader warnings: swearing like three words, mentions of food genre: fake dating, reverse grumpy x sunshine, super fluffy, angst if you squint but even then it's not that much, crack fic wc: 9,752

Kim Gyuvin was begging on his knees trying to get away from his crazed fangirls. He just needed a moment of peace. Along came you, the stingy student president who didn't even know who he was! You were the final piece to the puzzle; the perfect addition to his perfect plan. It was simple; you two pretend to date and drive away all of Gyuvin's weird fangirls. You only had one rule, though; Gyuvin has to drive you everywhere!

a/n: hiii i'm back with my first fic for zb1! I love kim gyuvin with all my heart omg this fic was actually so fun to write! please support zb1 and their new song, crush, too! I tried to make this one super fluffy so hope u guys enjoy~

You were holding someone’s hand.

The hand was much bigger than yours, most likely a man’s. The metal surface of what you assumed was a ring had shocked your skin cool. His knuckles were calloused, rough—he seriously needed to invest in some hand cream. Contradictingly, his palms were warm and clammy; a sensation you didn’t particularly enjoy, either.

More importantly, however, you didn’t have a clue who this man was. 

It seems he didn’t catch that memo.

“I already have a girlfriend,” the owner of the hand bogusly smiled at the two girls who cornered you in the middle of the hallway. Stupefied, you gazed up at his towering frame and broad shoulders, with his sports bag flush against his chest. You glanced at his flushed red ears, sweat beading from his forehead, his puppy dog eyes that were full of determination. You admit; he would’ve been cute if it weren’t for this non-consensual hand holding habit of his. The creepy-hand-guy glanced at his feet. “I can’t date you, sorry!”

“Awe, Gyubinnee!” one of the girls whined, a sound synonymous with an air horn. “Since when were you dating someone?”

You seconded the air-horn girl’s testaments. Since when were you in a relationship you didn’t even know about?

His hand clung around your fingers tighter. “It just sorta happened, you know?”

The two girls took quick glances at each other, whining some more before ultimately walking away, their shoulders slumped to the floor. Creepy-hand-guy waited a few paces, his eyes tracking the girls like a sniper on the kill. The girls turned the corner at the hall, and only then did the creepy hand guy exhale from relief. He held a hand against his chest, as if his heart was minutes away from falling out of place. Clearly, creepy-hand-guy was forgetting something.

“Are you gonna let go?”

“Oh, shit,” he jutted, his hand flying away from yours. He took two lengthy steps away from your figure, as if he finally learnt the meaning of personal space. Took him long enough. You heave a sigh, using your finally free hand to continue what you were originally here to do; gathering your things to bus home. 

“I’m really sorry—those girls were killing me.” He cradled the nape of his neck with his palm, flashing the grin. A genuine one, this time. Though it was laced with nervousness. “Thanks for helping me out. I’m Gyuvin.” 

Gyuvin pushed a hand out to your direction, making this the second time you’ve ever held his hand. You hugged your books against your chest, leaving one hand open to shake his hand. “y/n.”

“Do you usually hold random girl’s hands in your free time?” Turning around, you took a jab at him as you shoved your books into your school bag. It elicited a nervous chuckle from his chest. Gyuvin clung onto his bag strap. “No, those girls back there—they keep harassing me and asking for my number. So, I, uh, had to improvise? Yeah.” 

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but giggle at his lack of coordination. Gyuvin fiddled with his fingers, lighting up at the sight of your amusement. He really did resemble a puppy. 

You clicked your phone open, your eyes scanning the time left you had to rush over to your bus stop. Shock ran though your spine, sweat beaded from your forehead. 8 minutes. You had 8 minutes before the bus would arrive, and the closest bus stop resided on the other side of a massive hill. Slamming your locker shut, you dashed to the exit, brushing past Gyuvin’s shoulder. You quickly turned back, greeting the puppy boy with a weary eye-smile. 

“Good luck with that—”

“Wait!”

His voice tethered you to the ground, your body frozen. You couldn’t quite figure out why you bothered to listen; the clock was ticking—fast. Gyuvin adjusted his figure to face you upfront before bending over in a 90* bow. Your brows furrowed, speechless. What was this guy doing?

“Can you be my fake girlfriend?”

You choked, eyes spilling from your sockets. This felt like some joke, like a prank camera crew was moments away from jumping out and exposing their true intentions. You glanced around just to be safe. You caught a glimpse of the boy before you, slowly straightening his posture—his eyes flooding with determination. Your lips part. He wasn’t joking, was he? 

The puppy boy continues his wild claim, his palms facing you in defence. “I know it sounds crazy, but those girls have never listened to me before! This is the first time they’ve actually back down after I’ve told them to go away.” Gyuvin held a hand to his chest. “If I make it seem like I’m in a believable relationship, I might actually have a shot at making those guys leave me alone.”

Gyuvins eyes drilled into you, his voice softening. “I really need your help—please.”

Feelings of guilt started to seep into your chest, but you quickly swatted them away. You barely knew this man, why would you give into his psychotic request? You checked the bus time once again; 6 minutes. Shit. 

“No thanks!” You jutted from your chest.

With that, you dashed out the door, your bag swinging side to side as you ran. As heartless as your actions were, you didn’t bother to look back. You simply let the puppy boy fend for himself. It didn’t matter, you’ll never see this guy again.

Right?

Running. Kim Gyuvin was running. His breath hitched against his chest, sweat 

beaded from his forehead, his sports bag swaying frantically at his hips. He barely took notice, though; his brain was too occupied with escaping the two random girls who asked him for his number this afternoon. 

Correction: girls who asked for his number and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Gyuvin tucked himself away, hiding behind a wall of lockers to catch his breath. He combed through his hair, his chest heaving. This wasn’t the first time this happened. There have been countless times where Gyuvin had to run for his life from random people in his school; people that claimed to be fans. It was one of the downsides to being popular.

Gyuvin knew it was vain. He knew people would die just to be in his shoes. He knew people would love to be adored the way he was adored. Yet one massive thing completely goes over their heads; it was exhausting. People didn’t fully understand his struggles; the constant noise, the lack of privacy in the classroom and the bus ride to and from school. The only reason he studied his ass off to get his licence the minute he could was to get away from those fangirls who had no clue about personal space.  

Now, they’re going so far as to wait for him after practice, and chase him down for his number. Gyuvin needed to put an end to this. Now. 

Hastily, Gyuvin scanned the barren hallway. Nothing but a sea of beige lockers; all closed. It was natural, it was well after school hours—almost everyone had to be home by now. Gyuvin’s shoulders sunk to the floor, his heart losing hope for a successful escape. 

The sound of rustling suddenly crept up to his ears as he turned his head to the left. He found the figure of a girl turned away as she moved books and papers around in her locker. Her face was buried into the nook of the locker, paying no attention to the world around her. Her surroundings, baren and quiet. Gyuvin envied her a little; she looked like she was having a peaceful day. 

Another glance at the locker girl and a lightbulb bounces from Gyuvin’s brunette head. The locker girl was none other than you, Park y/n. According to Gunwook, you were the bossiest class president in your year, and you often stayed late after school for your various class president duties. Ricky dubbed you a tryhard for it. Gyuvin, however, didn’t have much to say on the matter—he’s never had the chance to talk to you.   

Gyuvin found himself staring at you, time standing still. His eyes widen before he sends a swift slap onto his cheek. Yet, that didn’t stop from curiosity bubbling in his chest.

The echoes of steps and faint voices bounce from further down the hall, Gyuvin’s spine freezing in fear almost immediately after, his brain being thrown straight back into reality. Shit. They were back. Gyuvin had to act fast. In a panic, Gyuvin’s eyes landed on your hand, which was dangling nonchalantly against your side as you fiddled with your phone. An idea perked up in his mind, an idea he swatted away instantly. But as the steps grew faster, and his time ran shorter, he knew he had no other choice. 

Gyuvin gulped as he dashed over to you. Guess it’s worth a shot.

So much for your peaceful day.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up at 4, we’ll get something to eat, then we’ll head to the concert venue.” Your best friend, Matthew listed out; his voice muffled by the crunch of cornchips. His thumb swiped over his phone, his other hand tossing more chips into his mouth. You sat across from him on your living room floor, your frame buzzing with excitement as the two of you planned your most anticipated weekend yet. Your favourite artist was holding a concert in your city and you needed to go; your life depended on it. 

Cheerfully, you nod at Matthew’s rundown of your weekend plans, a grin plastered on your face. A grin that would disappear. The cause? Matthew's snoopy ass. 

“We’ll figure out the rest later—tell me more about that hand holding guy!”

Right. That was another reason for your best friend’s visit; for him to probe you for answers regarding the weirdo, Kim Gyuvin. You only sighed. You only graced him an ominous text about it last night before you went to bed, it was only fair. You took one last swing of your soda.

“He was running away from some girls. Apparently, they can’t get the hint when he tells them he's not interested.” You wave your hand nonchalantly when images suddenly pop into your mind. The image of Gyuvin bowing down like a dork, his puppy dog eyes full of determination. The image of Gyuvin’s cheeky smile—a smile that was plastered onto his face for the entire 10 minute interaction. Your brain lingered on that image for a little while, though you weren’t fully sure as to why. 

“Oh, and get this,” You finally continued, waving those weird thoughts away. “The guy asked if I could be his fake girlfriend. Like—what?”

“What, really?” Matthew erupted into a fit of giggles, his figure folding up into a ball and rolling around like some unbalanced egg. “That’s so stupid. Did he even tell you his name?”

You nipped at your lip. “Yeah. Gyuvin.”

Matthew choked on his chips, his eyes spilling from their sockets. You stood still, frozen as curiosity took over your frame. Did you say something wrong?

“Wait. Kim Gyuvin?”

“Yeah?” You furrowed your brows. “Does that matter?"

Matthew scoffed. "He's only one of the most popular guys at school? How did you not know this?"

You only shrug. Being class president didn’t leave much room for a social life. This was no exception. Matthew ran a hand through his hair, his jaw grazing the floor in awe. You, meanwhile, only brought your soda can to your lips, nibbling at the metal as you thought back to the puppy boy. The way he fumbled and stuttered on his words, the way he so desperately ran away from his supposed fans. This guy was supposed to be your school’s hotshot pretty boy? Nah. That was impossible. 

Matthew leaned back onto the couch, a mischievous grin stretched across his face. “Go for it.” 

You choked. “What? No!” You swat the air, huffing a sigh. “I’m way too busy for something that silly. Besides, it sounds like he’s got a whole roster of girls to choose from. He doesn’t need me.”

“I dunno, sounds like he does. No one just asks a question like that,” Matthew shrugs. You wince, memories from that afternoon with Gyuvin popping into your brain; your cruel rejection in particular lingering well past its welcome.  

“Maybe it’ll be fun for you, too! Your social life needs some work—OW.” Your palm smacked his shoulder. Deserved. 

“I don’t need a fake boyfriend for that, I have you.”

“Yeah. Your only friend. I can’t hang out all the time!”

“Whatever,” You swat the air again, not putting much thought into Matthew’s words as you dug your hands into a newly opened bag of chips. Matthew was just being delusional anyways. There was no point in listening to him. 

There’s no way you’d give Kim Gyuvin the light of day.

Luck wasn’t on your side this particular afternoon.

It started with the bipolar weather of your city. Blue skies of the afternoon quickly shrivelled up into thunderous grey clouds, and soon later, showers of rain drenched the outside. Luckily enough, your student council meeting had just ended, meaning you’d be trapped in the pouring rain. Without an umbrella. Yay. 

You pushed through your school doors, being immediately greeted with harsh rain as you took your first steps outside. You tried to salvage your face, at least. Pressing your hand against your forehead in a makeshift visor; but it was no use. Your makeup had practically washed off of your face, like a tiny floatie amidst a grand wave. You only nipped at your lip, the rest of the trek to your bus stop becoming a cold, shivering blur. As you finally approach the barren bench and bus stop pole, you pull your phone out, only to be met with another devastating piece of news. 

32 minutes. The next bus was 32 minutes late. Your heart sank into the drenched sidewalk.

A sigh escapes your lips as you look up at the droplets before you, the splotches of gloomy clouds crowning over your once innocent sky. You didn’t even have the energy to complain, it was no use. As much as you wanted it to, whining wouldn’t make the bus get here faster, or miraculously send a ride your way to get you away from this mess. And so, you stood your ground, convincing yourself that everything was fine.

Happy thoughts. Like the warm shower you could take the moment you arrive home, or the concert outfit you could plan even though the concert was still weeks away. Yeah. Just think happy thoughts, y/n. 

Your phone buzzed against your palm, your eyes scanning through the numerous water beads cascading off the glass.

matthew! [6:49 pm] GIRL I'M SO SORRY MY PARENTS JUST GROUNDED ME

matthew! [6:49 pm] I CAN’T FUCKING GO TO THE CONCERT

Your heart shattered. No. This can’t be happening. You and Matthew; that's how it was supposed to be. You couldn’t just go alone! Who else were you supposed to go to the concert with? Frantically, your thumbs swipe up the screen, summoning the phone keyboard. 

y/n [6:50pm] WHAT

matthew! [6:50 pm] I KNOW 

matthew! [6:51 pm] I stayed out past curfew like ONCE

y/n [6:51pm] is there really no way to change their minds?? 

y/n [6:52pm] like chores?? 

matthew! [6:54 pm] no :(( I already tried everything

matthew! [6:54 pm] just go without me 

You nipped at your lips. You doubted being able to go, yourself. Your parent’s hand one stipulation when allowing you to go to the concert. You needed a ride. Neither one of your parents were available, nor did they want you on a 2 hour bus ride to the other side of town. Matthew was your only option, and now he’s gone. Your heart beats rapidly beneath your chest. What were you going to do? 

“y/n?” 

The voice shook you to reality. You could tell the voice was yelling, attempting to overpower the crashing rain and its new friends; thunder and lightning. Your eyes move to follow the voice, your poor pupils meeting with a strong beam of light. You wince, using your arm to shield the light. A car sat in front of you, oddly enough. A car you didn’t quite recognize. Though the owner of the car would supposedly beg to differ. You bent down to get a better few of this mystery owner. 

You choke. 

It was Kim Gyuvin. 

You glance around before taking a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

“What?”

“I said; What are you doing here?” Your voice grew louder at the end. 

“Oh,” He picks at the nape of his neck. “I was driving by when I saw you. Who takes the bus in this weather?”

Your eyes fall to the ground; your soaked shoes. “Nobody could pick me up.”

The blanket of your silence was overwhelmed by the rapid taps of the rain droplet hitting against Gyuvin’s windshield. 

“Do you want a ride?”

Your eyes widen, spilling from their sockets. Was he being serious? Kim Gyuvin, the man who you knew for about 48 hours in total, just offered you a ride in his car. Was he insane? Between this and his little hand-holding habit, you were starting to get the impression that personal space was not in this man’s vocabulary. 

“What? No tha—”

A sudden strike of lightning flashes down near you, the earth below rumbling and jolting in fear. You clearly did the same, yelping out a shriek as you almost lost your own balance. Fear shot down your spine faster than the lightning strike you had just witnessed. Your eyes bounce back to Gyuvin’s car. Fuck it.

“Alright, fine.”

Cold. Your clothes were cold against your skin as you leaned back in Gyuvin’s passenger seat. The seatbelt pushed the wet fabric into your skin further, making you shiver at each movement. Your fingers fumbled with the straps of your bag, eyes boring into the neon green light of his car radio. Gyuvin’s eyes darted to you, overflowing with unease. “Music?”

“Uh, it’s fine.” Your eyes wandered to the crashing raindrops outside; the sky painted a deep navy blue. Your eyes followed each streetlight that flew by your view, desperate for a distraction. 

The two of you were drowning in awkward silence, nothing but the rumbles of thunder booming in your ears. You were suffocating. What else were you supposed to do? You didn’t exactly know what to say to the boy who asked you to be his fake girlfriend. You tapped your fingers against the nylon of your school bag. 

“Those girls from the other day,” Gyuvin’s voice suddenly peaked, his thumbs drumming against his steering wheel. “They hadn’t approached me at all, today. That fake relationship thing really worked.”

You only nod. Did people really think you were a couple?

The thought makes your stomach feel funny.

“Is it really that bad?” You looked over to him. 

Gyuvin huffed a sigh, his cheeks puffing up with air. “It happens almost every day. It drives me crazy.”

You gulp, Gyuvin’s response rendering you speechless. The most popular guy at school hated being popular. Ironic. Guilt clung onto your chest again. You had to admit; you felt bad for the guy. Having people chase you down the halls on a daily basis wasn’t an easy feat. And yet, he chose to stay popular. You couldn’t help but wonder why.  

Maybe you were a little curious when it came to the school’s pretty boy. 

You choke. What an absurd thought.                              

At that moment, intrusive thoughts flooded your brain. Thoughts of Matthew and the concert; thoughts of waiting for the bus on cruel, rainy days; the fact that this was the fastest you’ve ever gotten home after a student president meeting. You took note of the heater effortlessly thawing your frozen body, the shield of the windows protecting you from the crashing rain. 

Eventually, Gyuvin pulls into your driveway. He sets his car into park, fidgeting with the buttons to unlock the car doors. Your eyes met Gyuvin’s, which were already staring back at you. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Wait!” You began without thinking. Gyuvin’s brows furrowed together, confused.

“I'll do it. I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”

Gyuvin’s eyes split from their sockets. He leaned forward in shock. Maybe a little excitement, too. “What?”

“But,” You lifted a finger to the sky. With the way he stared back at you, you were convinced Gyuvin forgot to breathe. You continued. “I’ll only do it if you do something for me in return, got it?”

“Yeah, anything!” Gyuvin’s heart began racing.

“Drive me everywhere.”

Drive me everywhere.

Your voice replayed in Kim Gyuvin’s head. It replayed during the lacklustre lectures of his biology class; during the repetitive drills of his basketball practice warm ups. It was odd. The presence of you in his mind made his boring day a little less boring. 

As baffling as your demand was, Gyuvin couldn’t help but accept. In exchange for a fake relationship that would drive away the fangirls he had to deal with on a daily basis, Gyuvin would drive you to and from school everyday, as well as wherever else you wanted to go. It’s a win-win situation; a way to finally escape the horrors of those obsessive fangirls. A way to finally be at peace. Besides, he always felt a little bad watching you bus home everyday.

Gyuvin’s chest bubbled up with excitement. He wasn’t quite sure why. 

“No hugging? Really?”

The two of you sat in Gyuvin’s car, scribbling down what you both thought were important ground rules to have for this peculiar fake relationship. You’ve only agreed on three so far.

Kim Gyuvin drives Park y/n to and from school

Kim Gyuvin takes Park y/n to concert

Park y/n scares creepy fangirls away >:))

You grumble. It clearly didn’t dawn on you how much of a headache this would give you. Gyuvin leaned back on the driver’s seat, exasperated. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, his brow’s furrowing at your seeming outlandish claim. You only nibbled at your lip; unsure of what exactly was so wrong with what you said. “Yeah. No hugging. Or touching, for that matter.”

“How would anyone believe us if I can’t hug you?” Gyuvin throws his hands in the air like a big baby. 

“I dunno? I’m just not a touchy person—It’s not a big deal.” You shrug, swatting away his concerns. Gyuvin springs up from his laid back stance, snatching the notebook away from your unassuming hands. You stay stunned, brows furrowing at what he was doing. You watch as he scribbles profusely before facing the journal your way the minute he finishes. 

Kim Gyuvin and Park y/n MUST hold hands (to avoid suspicion!)

The notebook drops onto your lap as you gaze back at Gyuvin, an unamused stare lining your face. “Really?”

“What? Holding hands isn’t that bad!” Gyuvin grins. “It’s not like we haven’t done it, either.”

Heat creeps up to your cheek. His remark earns a punch to his shoulder.

“Are you obsessed with my hands or something?” You scowl. 

This time, it was Gyuvin’s turn to grow absolutely flustered. His cheeks grew into a deep red, the wash of colour spreading all the way to the shell of his ear. He coughed out a lump from his throat as picked at the nape of his neck. “What? No—shut up!”

Gyuvin gulped, slightly turning away from you. “It’s a nice middle ground.”

You sigh, your shoulders sinking into the plush of his passenger seat. “Fine.”

You never thought you’d be spending your Wednesday afternoon eating ice cream atop the trunk of Kim Gyuvin’s car. 

It happened seemingly out of nowhere. One minute, you were sitting peacefully in the passenger’s seat. Your mind wanders absently as you hum along to the faint radio emitting from Gyuvin’s crummy speakers. Your windows rolled down halfway; just enough for the wind to graze against your face, to refresh your skin.

The next minute? Kim Gyuvin gasps at a sight on the road. With the way his eyes spilled out of their sockets, his jaw grazing his lap, and his finger jutting out before him, you would think there was a bear on the road, or something. Gyuvin begins to literally howl at the sight, his figure bouncing in his seat like a kid with candy. You finally look over to what the puppy boy was currently losing his mind over. 

It was an ice cream stand. On the side of the road. It wasn’t candy, but it was close enough. You rolled your eyes. 

“Wanna get ice cream?” Gyuvin’s puppy eyes glimmered with whimsy and wonder; you were at a loss for words. You picked at your lips, eyes avoiding his. “I dunno. I gotta be home soon—”

“But these ice cream stands always change locations—and their stuff’s the best!” You felt the car slowly move to the side of the road before coming to a slow halt. There was no point in arguing now. Gyuvin shifted the car in park. “We’ll be quick, I promise!”

You glanced up at Gyuvin’s eyes once more. They bore into you, glistening in a way that made your heart melt. Damnit. 

“Alright, fine.”

“YAYYY THANK YOUUU!” Gyuvin yelped at the top of his lungs as he sprung out of the car. He didn’t forget to dash to your side of the car, opening your door for you before practically skipping his way to the ice cream stand. 

You sat on the roof of his car’s trunk, your knees tucked up against your chest as your arms hugged them close. Your fingers loosely latch onto your cone of chocolate ice cream, the frosty exterior stopping you from holding onto the cone with a firm grip. Gyuvin sat beside you, leaning back with his legs sprawled over the trunk’s surface. He brought his mango-flavoured cone up to his lips, about to take his first bite before latching his attention onto you. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

You gazed up at him. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

It was peculiar; the way you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He didn’t look different in a physical sense; same hazelnut hair, same basketball team jacket hugging his frame, same broad shoulders and tall physique. Yet, something was off. 

Kim Gyuvin was supposed to be the campus pretty boy. This elusive celebrity of the high school hallway. Completely untouchable to the masses. This Kim Gyuvin, however, was nothing of the sort. He was bubbly and bright. He was clumsy and jumpy. His energy worked overtime, it almost amazed you. He didn’t seem unattainable at all.

It was almost cute. 

You choke. What were you thinking? Kim Gyuvin wasn’t cute. Were you crazy?

“y/n!” The touch of a finger poking against your cheek pushed you back to reality. Your eyes once again met Gyuvin’s, now with a mad expression lining his face. “Hurry up and eat—I was waiting for you!”

You finally lick your ice cream cone, stupefied by the creamy consistency and perfectly sweet flavour. The treat melted in your mouth; it was addicting. You couldn’t stop eating it. In your peripheral vision you watched as Gyuvin watched you, a proud grin lining his face. “So? What do you think?”

“...Yummy,” You mutter in between bites. Gyuvin only chuckles. You watch as his puppy eyes fold into crescent moons and your heart melts faster than the ice cream in your hands. With his free hand, Gyuvin pokes out his index finger before lightly tapping the tip of your nose. 

“You’re so cute, y/n.”

Your heart performed backflips at his words. Maybe you were starting to prefer this bubbly Kim Gyuvin. 

Sweat beaded off your forehead. Nervousness drilled through your skin. 

The reason? Kim Gyuvin, who was currently standing outside of your classroom door. 

You knew that today was your first “official” day of the scheme. Hell, you planned the whole scheme out last night on call. Nevertheless, fear shot down your spine. You’ve seen Gyuvin’s fangirls first hand—you knew they wouldn’t handle this new relationship lightly. You weren’t sure if you’d make it out of today alive.  

Worst of all? It seems Gyuvin was actually enjoying this. 

Gyuvin’s shoulder leaned against the door frame as students funnelled through the narrow exit. Girls glance up in shock, whispering to their friends at the sight of the infamous Kim Gyuvin waiting for someone at the door. Waiting for someone that wasn’t them. 

Gyuvin’s eyes finally meet yours, a mischievous grin stretching across his face as waved at you. You glare back at him, looking around for a clear path before stomping over to him. 

“What are you doing here?” You seethed through your teeth, jutting a finger at his chest. 

Gyuvin only grinned. “I came to visit you before practice, baby!” 

The nickname summoned glares from all around you. You were done for. Your voice got quieter. “Didn’t we agree on meeting in the car? So I don’t, you know, die?” 

“That would take too long,” Gyuvin waved his hand. “I just wanted to see you.” 

Your cheeks flare up at his words. You frantically sweep your hands, gesturing to him to leave. “Well, you see me now, right? So shoo! Before more people kill me with their eyes.” 

“Alright, alright,” Gyuvin dragged on his words before his fingers laced in between yours. You jolt, most definitely not ready for the stupid stunt he was about to pull. 

Suddenly, Gyuvin gently cupped your hand in his, his thumb softly swiping against your skin as he lifted your hand up to his lips. Air stops right before it reaches your windpipe; you couldn’t breathe. Your heartbeat surged with energy as your eyes widened. He looks back at you one last time before grazing his lips against the heated, flushed surface of your skin. What was Kim Gyuvin thinking?

“Wish me luck at practice, love!”

You choked. Red paint smeared on your back, drawing out the image of a target. The stares of every girl in your homeroom burned through your skin. You glanced up at Gyuvin, a mischievous grin now sweeping across his face. A grin that calms you down in seconds. Odd, considering it's the same grin which sent your heart through turbulence just minutes before.

Maybe Kim Gyuvin is an idiot. 

Maybe he took it a little too far with that stunt he pulled. 

He couldn’t help it, though. He saw it in a movie once, and always wanted to try it out. Besides, your reaction was priceless. The way your eyes shoot out of their sockets, your jaw hanging to the floor. 

The way your cheeks flared up in minutes, like a milk bun in a toaster preheated way too high. The way you nibbled on your knuckle from your stress. The way your eyes glistened beneath the school’s building lights as you shot him a deathly glare. He could have sworn you carried a galaxy within them. 

Gyuvin couldn’t ignore how small your hand was compared to his, either. 

Soon enough, Gyuvin’s heart was pounding through his chest. Images of you clouded his vision. 

Gosh, you’re adorable. 

Gyuvin practically skipped on his way to practise.

Your stomps of fury echoed throughout the hallway leading up to your school's gym. The impact earned concerned stares from the students passing by, but you didn’t pay them any mind. You were laser-focused on one thing; getting answers from Kim Gyuvin. That cheeky asshole. 

What kind of stunt was that? Kissing your hand in front of the sea of fangirls at his disposal? Did he want you to die? With the way your heart was racing, you felt as though you were going to die anyway. You just chalked it up to your rage.

It couldn’t explain the way your cheeks ignited in flames, though.

Your frame burst through the gymnasium doors, the boom bouncing off every surface of the barren room. The facility was practically empty, save for a few students dressed clad in their gym strips and packing their bags to go home for the day. You counted maybe a handful of them standing around, gazing at you like a deer in headlights, but it didn’t matter. You were here for one person, and one person only. 

“Gyuvin!” Your voice leaped out of your chest without thinking. You gulp, watching as Gyuvin’s teammates slowly turn towards you, Gawking at you like some foreign creature of the wild. Gyuvin catches your figure in his gaze shortly after, a small smile hooking onto the corner of his lips. “y/n?”

“I need to talk to you.” Your voice softened this time around. A faux smile lined your lips as you made your way towards him.

“You miss me already?” Gyuvin innocently asked, a not-so-innocent grin smacked across his face. You only rolled his eyes. “Oh shush! What the hell was that stunt you pulled just—”

“Wait! These guys don’t know yet!”Gyuvin suddenly nudged your shoulder gently, interrupting you. Pressing a finger to his lips, he tilted his head towards his friends, his voice hushed. “They think we’re really dating!”

“So?” You crossed your arms, your voice meeting his.

“So, we gotta act like a couple!” Gyuvin’s hand gently traced the outside of your arm, slowly falling until he reached your fingertips. He clung onto your fingers loosely, the act making your heart race. “Remember the deal?”

Suddenly, a cog in your brain switched. All eyes were on you, each student curious what would happen next. All attention; laser focused on you. You weren’t looking for an answer, anymore. You wanted to make Kim Gyuvin pay for what he did; for drowning you in a sea of embarrassment. You wanted revenge. 

He wanted an act? Oh, you were gonna give him one, alright.

“I mean—Of course I missed you, baby!” Your voice sang sweet like honey. As you raise yourself onto your tippy-toes, your face inches closer to him. You watch as Gyuvin’s eyes spill from their sockets and his face plumps pink. He’s stunned to his core; you’ve turned him to stone. Your free hand cups the side of his face. A smirk lined your lips as they graze against Gyuvin’s cheek in a sweet kiss. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

You step away from the stunned puppy, clinging onto his fingers. You made sure not to miss the stunned faces of Gyuvin’s teammates, their jaws grazing the floor. And who could forget Gyuvin’s reaction? You certainly couldn’t, with the way his face drowned in red, his hands cupping over his mouth. You send him a flirty wink. “I’ll be in the car. Don’t keep me waiting!”

You skipped your way out of the gym, totally ignoring your racing heartbeat. It was just from the adrenaline, anyway. 

“What happened to Matthew, sweetie?” Your mom tilted her head to the side. 

You picked at your fingers, eyes darting between your socks and the coffee table just paces beside them. “He couldn’t make it tonight. Gyuvin offered to take me instead.”

Currently, you and Gyuvin are sitting on your living room couch, facing your parents. Barely facing, anyways; you have never been more nervous in your life than at this very moment. A gulp pushed through your chest. You weren’t fully sure why the campus pretty boy was currently in your home. You just wanted him to pick you up right before you had to leave for the concert that evening. Instead, he insisted on coming half an hour early to introduce himself to your parents. Was he crazy?

All of this felt so formal. Like it was a real date. It made your stomach swirl in on itself.

As his forehead proceeded to shed bullets, Gyuvin clumsily shot up from his seat, jutting a hand towards your dad. “My name is Kim Gyuvin, sir! I am y/n’s classmate and I happened to—uh—have tickets to the same concert as her—I have no ulterior motives with your daughter sir, we are just friends—” Gyuvin spat out in a rushed, single breath. Your body cringes as you watch from the sidelines. Your father hesitates, his brows furrowing as he takes the hand of the lost puppy. 

“Alright, then. Have her home by 11,” Your dad simply says. 

Gyuvin’s chest puffs up, determination swelling in his cheeks. “Yes, sir!”

You gaze up at him from your seat on the couch. The way his brunette head gleamed beneath your living room lights. You watched as his hands moved from fidgeting with his belt loops, to aggressively brushing through his hair, to clinging behind his back. You watched as his eyes burned with a passion you’ve never seen before. As if he was committed to making the best first impression to your parents. A weird feeling bubbled up your chest. 

You shot up from your seat and b-lined for the kitchen. “I’ll get everyone some water!” 

Escaping to the solitude of your kitchen, you swing open the cabinet door. You reach for the first cup you find before drowning it underneath the faucet water. The white noise of the water pressure flooded your mind. Your weird, weird mind. 

“Is that your new boyfriend?” The voice of your mother popped in your ears, nearly making you spit out your water. 

Boyfriend? Kim Gyuvin? Was your mother crazy?

You took another gulp of water. Your mother was only half wrong, you suppose. You were technically his fake girlfriend. But that wasn’t the same. Still, the thought made your heart race. 

“What? Mom—no!” You quickly brush the thought away. Or try to, anyway. “We’re just friends. It’s not like that.” 

You keep eye-contact with your socks as your mother’s voice peaks up again. “That’s too bad. I like him for you.”

You picked at your lips. Why was your heart beating so fast? “What do you mean?”

“The boy seems sweet. Not many guys your age are willing to drive someone around like that. He seemed so eager to meet us, too—that's rare. Plus, he's handsome!” Your mother sent you a soft smile. “Boys like that are hard to come across.”

Images of Gyuvin rush to your mind. Images you couldn’t swat away easily. With no final words, your mom slips out of the kitchen, leaving you to drown in your thoughts. 

It was odd, to say the least. 

Music was blasting in Gyuvin’s ears. It was blasting so hard, in fact, that Gyuvin could feel the bass ruminate in his chest. And when there wasn’t any music, the screams of fangirls filled in those gaps. Neon lights blared like sirens from the front of the stage; the brightness almost hurting his eyes. He was drowning in a sea of people; fans dedicated to the music of whatever band was playing before him. There were a multitude of distractions in front of him. 

Yet, Kim Gyuvin still had his eyes on you, standing beside him in the crowd.

The way your eyes sparkled the moment the band played your favourite song. The way you threw your arms in the air, dancing to the beat of the music and singing the lyrics with all your heart. The way your smile never failed to brighten up the dim concert hall. It was all Gyuvin could focus on. 

Gyuvin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as his heart beat beneath his chest, overpowering the pressure from the music around him. The heat creeping under his skin could have easily been chalked up to the crowd of people pushing up against his body, but Gyuvin had a feeling that wasn’t it. The culprit was you, taking over every thought he had in his mind. 

What if it wasn’t fake?

You and him. Park y/n and Kim Gyuvin. What if it was real?

Gyuvin’s stomach flipped in on itself. 

He couldn’t help but laugh as a stranger’s shoulder bumped into him, jolting him back to reality. There was no way you’d want to be with him. This was all just one big lie, anyway. Gyuvin was just reaching for the stars. 

Maybe front row tickets weren’t the smartest idea.

As expensive of a purchase as they were, many people were still able to afford them. As a result, you were swimming in a crowd of avid, committed fans—and you could barely float. Don’t be fooled, you loved this rare opportunity to see your favourite band perform live. Nevertheless, standing in this crowd was exhausting. 

Soon enough, the concert had entered its third and final set of the night. But rather than losing their energy, like what was expected to happen at the end of the night, the crowd gained energy. Slowly, the people around you surged with energy; jumping up and down, shoving left and right. Your shoulders roughly crashed against those of your neighbours, but nobody noticed. Everyone was too busy enjoying themselves. 

You, however, weren’t. With each strike against your frame, fear shocked through your body. You felt closed in, trapped. You held your limbs close to your chest, out of fear that you’d hurt yourself. You needed a way out. 

Suddenly, the face of a certain someone appeared in your mind. A certain someone that you couldn't quite find at the moment. 

Where was Gyuvin?

You whip your head around, eyes frantically scanning the blurry, messy crowd. No one resembled the tall puppy boy you grew so familiar with. Your eyes could practically dry out with how hard you worked on them, searching for Gyuvin in a heated frenzy, but he was nowhere to be found. You were enclosed by waves of strangers, not one face looked vaguely familiar to you. Your breaths began to quicken as fear shot down your spine. Your body froze on the spot—a deer in headlights. 

Without warning, the touch of a hand grazed against your wrist. You didn’t have time to react before the hand clung onto you, pulling your figure to your right. Soon later, you crashed onto the tense surface of someone’s chest, their body heat swiftly igniting your own. 

You glance up, your eyes meeting those puppy eyes you know and love. 

Kim Gyuvin looked down at your figure, his gaze overflowing with worry and fear. Your heart finally begins to calm down, your mind finally clearing. You watch as his free hand reaches up to touch you, but it hesitates at the last second. The hand that clung onto yours, however, never dared to let go. 

“Stay close, okay? I don’t wanna lose you.”

You gulped, butterflies fluttering at the pit of your stomach. Only now did you fully register how close you two were. You were snug against his chest, faces just centimetres apart. You gazed up at his figure; the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the way his once brunette hair blazed a cool indigo underneath the blaring stage lights. The way that his eyes collected stars as they hung onto you—only you. His breath wisps onto your skin, his shoulders effortlessly caging your frame in his. Your skin suddenly felt hot, flushed. 

There was something different about Gyuvin, tonight. You couldn’t put your finger on it.

You didn’t know what came over you, or what monster had possessed you just now, but you found yourself resting your head on Gyuvin’s chest for the rest of the concert. It felt safe there; a part of you never wanted to leave. 

“Thank you,” your voice didn’t reach past a whisper.

10:48pm. The sun retired beneath the sky. Stars peeked through the ebony fabric. The small glimmers of light you did see were in the form of streetlamps, quickly passing you as Gyuvin drove you home. 

It was night-time. It was dangerously close to your curfew. Yet you didn’t want to leave. 

Gyuvin’s car came to a soft halt as he drove into your driveway. He brought you home right before the hour of your curfew hits, like the gentleman he was. It made your stomach flip in on itself; made your head spiral in directions you didn’t deem possible before. What was Kim Gyuvin doing to you?

The air was tense, quiet. Neither of you spoke as you exited the car, the light outside your house cascading over your figures like liquid gold. You watched as Gyuvin’s eyes grazed through the gravel of your driveway; the leaves of your front yard hedge—but never on you. Though you did the same, it still made your heart sink a little. Was this really the end of the night?

“Hey,” Your voice peaked beneath the silence. “Thanks—for tonight.”

Finally, his eyes land on you. His hand reached up to cling on the nape of his neck. “I mean, you made me come here.”

“Hey! You started this, you know.” You roll your eyes to the stars above, crossing your arms and leaning back on the side of Gyuvin’s car.

Gyuvin’s eyes stayed on you as his figure inched closer. He shoved his hands in his pockets, the cool air condensing his breath into puffs of air every exhale he takes.  You felt your heart race beneath your chest again, forgetting to breathe, yourself, as Gyuvin rests a hip beside you. His eyes folded up into crescent moons. 

“And I don’t regret a thing.” His voice was soft, fragile. It made your heart leap.

It was as if the space around had faded away, leaving only you and Kim Gyuvin in its wake. This world was yours and yours alone. You felt your body shifting closer and closer to Gyuvin’s frame. Your figure slowly encases itself in his warmth; his body heat. Your eyes darted back and forth between your shoes and Gyuvin’s eyes. Butterflies bombarded your stomach. 

You thought back to your mother’s words from earlier that night. 

What if everything was real? What if you had something more?

Adrenaline shot through your chest. It was an absurd thought. But, you clearly weren’t thinking straight.

Your eyes latch onto Gyuvin’s lips. Your hands fiddled with the hem of your jacket. You took note of Gyuvin’s arm, reaching out to you before hesitating, eventually leaning on the roof of his car. His eyes lured yours in, holding them hostage as your hands developed a mind of their own; resting atop of Gyuvin’s shoulders. With your heart springing from your chest, your bodies move closer. Gyuvin’s palm slides up against your cheek as your eyes flutter shut. You felt the puffs of his warm breath graze against your skin. Sure, maybe you weren’t thinking straight. You haven’t been since the concert, but for once, you haven’t felt more sure about anything in your life. 

“y/n?”

The voice of your father jolts the two of you back to reality. You jump back, a wall of awkward space slicing through you. Your head darts over to your house’s front door, where you found your dad in his sleep robe and pyjama bottoms, leaning against the door frame. “What are you doing out here? It’s late. Get inside.”

You and Gyuvin simultaneously cleared your throats, your eyes dodging each other as you scramble to collect yourselves. You and Gyuvin said your hesitant goodbyes as you trekked into your home. 

Gosh, you’re so stupid.

Kim Gyuvin couldn’t move out of your driveway. His figure was frozen, immobile as he sat in the driver’s seat. His hands hung loosely around the stagnant steering wheel as his mind ran in circles. 

Kim Gyuvin is an idiot.

He was rash and reckless; a complete fool. He should’ve known better than to try and kiss you. He knew this relationship—this fake relationship, was nothing but a complex business venture. He knew that no real feelings were supposed to mix in this cauldron of lies. Things would turn messy if they did. You two had a simple deal; he would drive you around, while you drove away those crazy fangirls he had seemed to forget about. 

He also knew that none of that seemed to matter anymore. The more time he spent with you, the more he focused on you. You had his heart on lockdown; and he didn’t mind it one bit. 

He also knew that you could feel it, too. The way you leaned into him, your hands clinging onto his shoulders, pulling him in. The way you gazed up at him, your eyes glimmering golden from the streetlights above. Maybe it was too early to tell, but the excitement was already buzzing through his chest.

Maybe he had a chance. 

There was only one way he could find out. 

Sitting up straight, Gyuvin shifted his car in reverse before slowly backing out of your driveway. He opted to wait for another day, seeing how late it was in the evening. But that didn’t stop the adrenaline from coursing through his body. 

Kim Gyuvin is an idiot.

An idiot who has fallen for you.

“You almost WHAT?” Matthew’s voice jumped out of your phone like a fish out of water. You dug your head in your hands, a million different emotions rushing through your mind. You spun around in your desk chair, getting dizzy as you stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t matter though; your mind was already spinning. Spinning with thoughts of Kim Gyuvin. 

“We almost kissed.” You muttered, your head sinking onto the surface of your desk. “When he dropped me off yesterday. We just started talking outside his car. One thing led to another and—God, I wanna die.”

A series of incoherent mumbles erupted from Matthew’s line. “What stopped you? Why didn’t you just kiss him?”

“My dad caught us outside.” You groan, your fingers digging into your temples. “Besides, I was just being stupid. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss him.”

Matthew finally calmed down. You could hear him munching on a snack through the phone. “Why’s that?”

Wasn’t it obvious? You weren’t supposed to be with Kim Gyuvin. This relationship was supposed to be fake; a strict business plan. You had no real chance with Kim Gyuvin—he was the campus pretty boy, after all. You huff a sigh from your chest. 

“I can’t be with him. Everything we had—it’s all fake. A fake relationship so he could get away from those crazy fangirls, and I could stop taking the bus in the rain. We can’t just—”

“Do you like him?”

Matthew’s words cut through yours like a knife. You choke. Stubbornly, your mind ventures out to images of Gyuvin Images of Gyuvin’s puppy dog eyes—those very same eyes that would fold up into heart-wrenching crescent moons every time he smiled. You thought about his touchy tendencies and the ways he made your heart race. From booping your nose to kissing the back of your hand. You thought about how you first met; how he clung onto your hand for dear life. How you thought it was weird then, but now you didn’t seem to mind. No one seemed to make your heart flutter the same way Kim Gyuvin did. 

“Yeah.” You heard yourself answer without much thought. Heat creeped up to your cheeks.

“Then none of that matters!”

Your stomach flips in on itself. Matthew was right. You liked Kim Gyuvin; and you weren’t going to let anything get in your way. 

“I’ll call you back, Matthew.” You quickly swipe at your phone.

“GO GET YOUR MANS—” Matthew’s voice peaked through the mic before you hastily ended the call. 

You were more than disarrayed when it came to getting ready to leave the house. A haphazardly draped sweater hung over your figure. You didn’t bother to change out of your pyjama shorts as you slid on your house slippers. You weren’t fully sure if they were matching, either; you didn’t have the time to care. With your stare blazing with determination, you only cared about one thing; making your way to Kim Gyuvin. 

With more strength than you anticipated you swing your front door open, immediately greeting the harsh welcome of the afternoon sunlight and crisp breeze. After wincing at the light, you look up.

You choke. 

It wasn’t just the weather that greeted you with an extra shock factor this afternoon. With a rose in one hand, and his other hand balled up into a fist in the air—you assumed he was about to knock on your door—a figure stood before you. His puppy dog eyes stared back at you with determination as your heart performed backflips beneath your chest. 

Kim Gyuvin was already there; at your front door, waiting for you. 

“Gyuvin?!” You jolt, stepping out of the house and sealing the front door behind you shut. Kim Gyuvin towered over you, his tall frame shielding you from the blaring afternoon sun. But the warmth on your face stayed, all the same. You gulp, immediately aware of your less than tasteful current appearance. You swipe at your hair, taming any potential fly aways before fiddling with the handle of your zipper. You winced in embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

Gyuvin nervously scans his surroundings before looking down at the rose in his hand. He pushes it forward; towards you. 

“I, um—I thought of you.”

Your heart simultaneously surged with energy and melted into a puddle; were you having a heart attack? Your fingers grazed the rose, your chest buzzing with a feeling you couldn’t explain. You part your lips to say something, but it seems Gyuvin wasn’t finished. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, actually. Ever since I met you and randomly held your hand, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You gulp. “Gyuvin—”

The puppy boy gazed down at his shoes, the shell of his ear turning pink. “Maybe this is selfish, but I don’t like having to use some weird, intricate plan to spend time with you. I wanna drive you around, but not just because it’s a rule we discussed on a piece of paper. Everything in me is telling me that I need to be with you. Like—really be with you.”

“Gyuvin—” 

“I know you probably don’t wanna hear this. I just wanted to get it off my chest. I  guess I should’ve planned this out more, sorry about that—”

“Gyuvin!” You watched as the puppy boy jumped, his eyes collecting stars in broad daylight; it amazed you. 

Gosh, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

It all happened in mere seconds. Your heart danced beneath your chest as it heaved with energy. You were a balloon seconds before popping. Your limbs gained rebellious minds of their own, your legs inching closer to Gyuvin’s frame as your arms reached out to cling onto his jacket. Gyuvin only gazes back at you, his figure not daring to step away from you as he lets you pull him closer. A thread of space hung in the balance of your faces. With your mind splitting in different directions, and your heart finally leading your body, you squeeze your eyes shut; 

Capturing your lips in his. 

Candy. Kim Gyuvin tasted like candy as your lips melted into his. Slowly but surely, your figures began to move. Gyuvin’s touch was soft, fragile. His arm gently snakes around the small of your waist as the other supports your head by the palm. Your hands slip on either side of Gyuvin’s face, pulling him closer. He was snug against your frame—so close that he could feel the butterflies erupting from the pit of your swirling stomach. So close that he could touch the heart that was beating rapidly. Rapidly for him. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t dare to let him go. 

Your lips hesitantly pluck apart, both of you torn between reaching out for another kiss and taking a much needed deep breath. Your chest heaves as you glance up at him, your face drenched in flustered heat. Kim Gyuvin wasn’t any better, with his face smeared in red blush. It was gut-wrenchingly adorable. You gulp, still breathless. 

“I wanna be with you, too.”

Gyuvin only gapes at you, completely stunned as you continue. “From the moment I met you, you never failed to amaze me. Everything with you has been so spontaneous and fun—it’s all so new to me. But I don’t hate it. I wanna experience more with you, Gyuvin. I wanna be with you—for real, this time.”

The silence, accompanied by the squawks of the birds in the sky, drops you into reality as your skin runs hot from embarrassment. Gyuvin only gulps, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly. His eyes gaze into yours, practically forming into hearts as he pulls you close. 

“God—I like you so much, y/n” Gyuvin’s chest buzzed with excitement as he peppered small kisses all over your face. Your heated, flushed face. You reach up to play with his brunette hair, a smile staining your cheeks. 

“I like you more, dummy.”

Kim Gyuvin leaned against the doorframe of your classroom. 

You skipped your way over to your boyfriend as the clamour of students packed up their belongings for the day. Eyes of every girl in your class darted towards you and Kim Gyuvin. It was the school’s latest hot topic; the campus pretty boy and the stingy class president—a match made in heaven.

It was as if your bodies were made for one another; the way you folded into each other’s arms with immense ease. Gyuvin’s arm snaked around your waist as you clung onto the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. 

“You got practice?” You ask after pulling away. 

“Yeah.” Gyuvin huffed. “Just wanted to see you!”

“You’ll be late, Gyuvin.” You cross your arms, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re not just trying to stall and eventually skip, are you?”

Gyuvin only dragged on a long, indecisive hum before you sent a fist to his shoulder. “Go to practice!”

“Okay, fine!” Gyuvin bends down and places a quick peck on your cheek. Even as your boyfriend, Gyuvin never failed to make your heart flutter. “I’ll see you later, baby!”

As you retired back to your desk to retrieve your things, you felt the stares of various fangirls burning through you. But they didn’t matter. Unfortunately for them; you had Kim Gyuvin’s heart on lockdown, and you wouldn’t have it any other way!