#“all pulp no juice” is cursed and i love it

[deconstructthesoup]

Fabian may be totally against the idea of having siblings but I guarantee you if Gilear and Hallariel ever did have a kid he would love that kid the second he got a chance to hold it

[sadprose-auroras]

hiiii i was wondering if i could make a request for a hazel x reader where reader is beaten up by someone not from fight club and hazel gets really protective and rounds up the rest of the club to retaliate

Hey, thank you for your request! Sorry it took a hot min, this one took on a life of its own. Not sure how I feel about it tbh, but please let me know what you think! xx

Content warning: targeted violence, themes of bullying, cursing

Word count: 3.7k

You were well aware that Jeff, star quarterback, most popular guy in school, widely celebrated asshole, completely had it in him to take his bullying way too far. You couldn’t ever forget the first time you saw him beat somebody to a pulp.

It was eighth grade, and you were an awkward, shy thing, just trying to navigate schoolwork and friendships. To put it simply, you were figuring out who you were and your place in the world. There were so many questions swirling around in your head. Why did you feel an immense swirling sensation in your tummy when your classmate, Hazel Callahan, would sit next to you in class when nobody else would? Was it normal to be so deeply enamoured by the clothes she wore, her hairstyle, her school supplies, so much so that you would try and emulate an outfit she’d worn, to beg your mom for a haircut like hers, to buy the same pencil case she had, just because she was the coolest person you knew? Reflecting back, of course, you had a crush on her, and didn’t know how to express it. But at the time, you thought you just really wanted to be her best friend and not leave her side for a moment.

At this awkward pre-pubescent stage, Jeff and all his football buddies seemed to be way older, more mature, and you were terrified of them. Jeff, especially. He had always been a bully, shoving kids out of his way in the school halls and calling people derogatory names. But he only seemed to be getting worse. And every time you passed him in the hallway, your heart was in your throat as you kept your head down and walked faster. Was this the time he was going to target you?

One day, you were in the schoolyard, sitting on a bench with Hazel chatting about a book that Hazel had lent to you. One that, to your surprise and deep excitement, included two of the girl characters sharing a kiss on the lips. Vampires, at that. You thought that was the coolest thing ever. You’d read that same passage over and over, enthralled at that even being a possibility. It had crossed your mind that you really wanted to kiss Hazel like that.

“So… did you like it?” she asked with an expectant smile. You nodded incessantly.

“Oh my god, it was AMAZING! The vampires were SO cool, Kali and Anna were my favourite characters by far! I wanna be a vampire,” you gushed, flushing a deep shade of red when Hazel giggled.

“Dude, I knew you’d say that!” she said. “You so don’t wish you were a vampire, you love the sun!” You laughed and shrugged. She was completely right.

“You know me well, Haze,” you laughed.

“Hey?” Hazel asked, chewing on the end of the straw on her juice box. She looked nervous.

“Hm?”

“I have to tell you something.” Your heart started going a million miles an hour.

“What is it?”

“Well-“ before she could finish, a commotion out of the corner of your eye caught both of your attentions. You whipped your head around to see a large group gathered around two people on the floor. It was Jeff, holding down a kid and punching him. Over. And over. And over. You quickly realised it was a boy in your English class, Thomas, who you’d never really talked to but was a shy nerd like you. He seemed nice; he had lent you a pencil once. To your horror, he didn’t even seem to be moving. And Jeff was cackling. Maniacally.

“Oh god, what do we do?” you asked frantically. “We should get a teacher, right?” Although there were a bunch of kids cheering him on, it didn’t feel right.

“Yeah, come on!” Hazel said, grabbing your hand and dragging you behind her as you rushed off together to find a teacher. You couldn’t tell if it was the handholding, or the life and death situation, that was giving you more adrenaline.

------------------------------------------------------------

Now that you were all seniors, you were only more terrified of Jeff. He had never targeted you, luckily, but you had witnessed his increasing violent nature towards many of your other classmates. As for Hazel, the vampire book situation all those years ago had been somewhat of an awakening for you; you were totally, completely in love with your best friend. You never, ever told her though, your fear of rejection outweighing anything else. The closest you got was telling her you liked girls when you were having a sleepover for your sixteenth birthday. There was something about sleepovers that made you feel like you could talk about things you usually weren’t brave enough to. To your delight, she told you the exact same thing moments later.

Shockingly, you and Hazel had finally branched out and spoke to people besides each other. Your other friends, PJ and Josie, made you a perfect little foursome. You had bonded over your respective codependent friendships. You first heard about the fight club when PJ and Josie told you and Hazel over lunch that they had created a self-defence club to sleep with cheerleaders.

“We’re teaching them how to defend themselves, next thing we know, Isabel and Brittany are kissing us on the mouths!” PJ addressed Josie, flailing her arms around.

“Can we join?” you asked, then realised how that sounded, laughing. “I mean-“

Hazel squinted at you from the sun, furrowing her brows in confusion. Your heart skipped a beat; her eyes particularly sparkled in the sunshine.  

“You want both of us” – she pointed back and forth between herself and you – “to join those two” – she gestured at PJ and Josie – “in kissing Brittany and Isabel!?”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “The club. Can we join the club?”

“Yeah, sure!” Josie said.

“I mean, I guess, except we don’t want the losers to outweigh everyone else. No offense,” PJ says, and you shrug, entirely not offended.

“You’re not wrong,” you chuckle. “We are decidedly losers.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Despite the murky intentions PJ and Josie had for starting the club, it began to take on a life of its own. The mismatched groups of girls really began to bond, and you found yourself emotionally fulfilled in a new way that you hadn’t really experienced before. Being able to talk about deep things with a group of girls you knew had your back, and vice versa, was life changing. You noticed a significant difference in how you felt at school. Before, you were on edge most of the time and relatively lonely in a lot of your classes. Now, you had people to sit with, to say ‘hi’ to in the hallways. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders that you didn’t know existed.

One evening after a particularly long club meeting, you were the last one to leave, packing up after everybody else had left. You were humming to yourself as you worked, the warm feeling you had inside from hanging out with your friends still lingering. It was ironic how beating each other up brought you so close. Once you finished, you left the gym, backpack slung over your shoulder and keys in hand as you walked into the carpark. You noticed a figure moving in your general direction out of the corner of your eye but didn’t think much of it; there were lots of people still around school, coming out of their extracurriculars. Just as you had unlocked your car, the footsteps neared, and you whipped around to be met with Jeff standing over you threateningly. You gulped.

“May I help you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even as not to show how terrified you were of him.

“Yeah, actually,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’ve had enough of your little girls group taking attention away from football. You’re all over the school, and it’s done. You’re all done.”

“I don’t know what you expect us to do,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” You shoved him away, going to get into your car. Before you could, he reached out and pushed the door closed.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, and your heart sank.

------------------------------------------------------------

The first place you thought to go after Jeff beating you up was Hazel’s house. You practically sped to get there, unable to stop the sobs wracking your body. As you pulled into her driveway, you let out a sigh of relief noticing that her mum’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Barely stopping to take off your seatbelt before rushing out of the car, you ran up to the door and rang the doorbell twice in a row. It didn’t take long for you to hear footsteps, and the door swung open to Hazel dressed in sweatpants and a cozy jumper. She murmured your name, eyes scanning your face with concern.

“What happened?”

Without speaking, you practically fell into her arms in a hug, only crying harder. She engulfed you with her arms, stroking your hair comfortingly.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” she whispered, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You hiccupped, pulled away from the hug and wiped some tears from your eyes with your sleeve.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You wordlessly took Hazel’s outstretched hand, following her to the bathroom. You hoisted yourself up onto the sink, swinging your legs. Hazel started collecting supplies: damp cloths, antiseptic, band aids, bruise ointment. As you watched her, face deep in concentration as she murmured to herself about what she needed, you felt a surge of love for her.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice dripping with sincerity. She looked at you funnily as if to say, you don’t need to thank me, don’t be ridiculous.

“Okay, I’m just going to-“ she said gently, stepping between your legs and beginning to gently dab the blood off your face. As she worked, you watched her, suppressing tears at the realisation that you couldn’t feel any safer and protected with her by your side. God, you loved her. As she applied antiseptic, she shook her head in disbelief.

“Who did this to you?” she asked, visibly seething.

“Jeff,” you said quietly, lip quivering. Steam practically blew out of Hazel’s ears. Her movements ceased for a moment, and she pressed her lips tightly together.

“He deserves to die,” she said matter of factly.

“I don’t disagree,” you murmur.

“Hey?” you ask, making eye contact with her. You realise how truly close your faces are, and your heart rate increases rapidly. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Can I stay here tonight, please?” you ask, desperately trying to suppress the urge to be embarrassed. You just really didn’t want to be alone.

“Of course. You don’t even have to ask, you know that.” Her voice was so gentle, you practically melted.

“Thanks, Haze,” you said, as she finished cleaning you up.

“All done,” she said, beginning to pack away everything. You hop off the bench, taking the painkillers and water she hands you gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say as you pop the tablets into your mouth and swallow them with a big gulp of water.

“Stop thanking me,” Hazel chuckled lightly. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” You followed her to her bedroom, suddenly feeling unusually nervous. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t slept in each other’s beds before. Sleepovers were a major part of your friendship when you were younger, and more recently were particularly convenient when you got a little too drunk to get home. Perhaps there was something about the added layer of vulnerability to your state that was making you feel shyer with your best friend. As you contemplated this, shuffling back and forth on your feet, Hazel retrieved a soft t-shirt and shorts for you to wear to bed. She threw them at you, and you caught them with a soft smile.

“Thanks, dude.” You moved into an alcove in the corner of her room, turning to face the wall as you heard Hazel shuffling around, presumably getting changed as well. You desperately fought the urge to turn around, unsure if the tension in the room you could feel just at the thought of you both getting changed at the same time was in your head. But you swore, you could feel it. You pulled Hazel’s shorts up, tying them at the waist and trying to ignore the fact that the t-shirt she had lent you smelt like her. Although it was difficult not to. You folded your clothes, placing them on a chair, then turned around to find Hazel in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and a white tank top, sitting on her bed scrolling on her phone.

“You look cute,” she remarked in an indecipherable tone, and you couldn’t entirely tell if she was joking or not. Since eighth grade, you’d definitely developed your own style apart from Hazel’s, and her clothes on you were not your style at all. You poked you tongue out at her, as you walked over and got under the covers, snuggling down. It was easier to fall back into your friendship as it had always been in those moments, where you were unsure if she was feeling the same way. Otherwise, you might have to actually confess your own feelings, which was completely terrifying.

Hazel followed your lead, placing her phone down on the nightstand and pushing the covers back so she could get in, pulling them up to her chin and turning over to face you. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you for everything, Haze,” you said, shutting your eyes. If you looked into hers for a second longer you might actually explode.

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispered, so softly you could barely hear it. Before you knew it, you were drifting off.

------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning you awoke to sun pouring in the curtains, and you slowly opened your eyes, stretching your back and yawning. Despite the events of last night, you actually slept better than you had in weeks. The pain in your face had subsided a lot already. You rolled over to face Hazel’s side of the bed, heart sinking when you found it empty. Confused, you rolled back over and reached for your phone, touching the screen. Realisation flooded in. It was 9:00am on a Thursday. A text from Hazel was waiting for you, which she had sent half an hour earlier.

morning! i let you sleep, hope that’s okay. wasn’t sure if u were gonna go to school today. text me if you need anything <3

You smiled softly to yourself, eyes focused on the heart she sent a little longer than necessary. You quickly replied.

Thank youuuu, needed that sleep in. I think I will come to school, I’ll see you for second period probs xx

After hitting send, you got out of bed, making sure to make it neatly before deciding to go and quickly take a shower. After you stripped out of your clothes and waited for the water to warm up, you took a moment to examine your face in the mirror. It felt significantly better than last night, as if Hazel’s touch was magic. The bruising around your eyes was starting to come out, you had a small cut on your cheekbone, and the eye that you could barely open last night was much less swollen. You stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to relax your muscles with a sigh.

Little did you know, as you were sleeping that morning, Hazel had called an emergency meeting of the fight club. She was on a mission, and absolutely nothing was going to stop her. All she kept seeing in her mind’s eye was your face when you showed up on her doorstep, beaten and bloody, sniffling, eyes brimming with tears. To see you like that, the person she loved more than anyone in the world, shattered her heart. She had to get revenge, and she needed some help.

“Are we all clear on the plan?” Hazel asked, looking around at the group. It felt strange for the whole club to be there with you missing; she certainly noticed your absent presence. Normally, you’d be next to her, sitting cross-legged, and tapping your fingers on your leg like you do, exchanging glances with Hazel when something funny happened. She basically ached at the thought.

“Let’s fucking do it!” PJ yelled, banging the handle of a broom on the ground. Everyone else cheered and clapped in agreement.

“Let’s kill him,” Isabel said, narrowing her eyes with determination. She had her own reasons to want to do this.

------------------------------------------------------------

By the time you pulled into the carpark at school, the bell was just ringing, indicating the end of the first period. You weren’t going to lie, you were nervous about running into Jeff, but you prayed that there were enough people around during the actual school day that he couldn’t get you again. Just as you stepped out of your car, you heard a commotion coming from behind you. You frowned, swinging your backpack over your shoulder to follow the noise of people shouting.  Rounding the corner to the other side of the carpark, your hand flew to your mouth. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Hazel, along with all your friends from fight club, were stood over a football-uniform clad guy on the ground, who you couldn’t see from your angle. As other students had gathered around to watch, whooping and cheering, your friends were taking turns to punch, kick, stomp on, and slap the guy on the ground.

“THAT’S FOR CHEATING ON ME WITH MY SISTER!” Isabel cried out, kicking hard. That’s when it dawned on you; the guy on the ground, who was barely moving, unable to get out of the girls’ grips, was Jeff.

“THAT’S FOR Y/N!” Hazel yelled, in a voice you had never heard her use before, swinging both of her fists down hard on Jeff’s face multiple times. You approached the group, pushing past the onlooking crowd. You couldn’t believe how many people were supporting this. The way Jeff was thoroughly worshipped in school was obscene. Perhaps everybody was just waiting for someone to get back at him first. You approached your friends, taking a deep breath to yourself. They all turned to look at you as Josie was kicking Jeff in the head blood dripping from his mouth. Isabel was watching on proudly. You placed your hand on Hazel’s shoulder, and she spun around.

“Hey,” you murmured, smiling softly.

“I-uh-“ she began, as if she was about to explain herself, then you shook your head.

“Can I get in on this?” you asked, and she visibly relaxed, grinning.

“You’re not mad?”

“Fuck, no! You’re so brave for doing this, to be the first to give him what he deserves.” With that, you turned your attention to the guy lying on the ground, smiling at the sight of him groaning, bleeding, looking like absolute death.

“Hey, remember me?” you asked, before bringing your fist down on his face. Hard. And then again. And then again. And once more. Your friends, as well as the crowd watching on, cheered you on. The last punch you threw caused Jeff’s head to fall to the side as he passed out. You stood up proudly, looking around at your friends.

“I love you guys,” you grinned, and you all engulfed each other in a big group hug, all congratulating each other and saying how much you all loved each other. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Hazel’s hand resting on the small of your back. You all pulled away, and as everybody fell into chatter you grabbed Hazel’s hand and pulled her with you away from the crowd.

“Where are we going?” she asked with a laugh, awkwardly trailing behind you in a half jog, half walk.

“Here,” you said breathlessly, stopping when you rounded a corner to a quiet spot.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Your voice was still breathless, your head spinning with anticipation. It was now or never. Before Hazel could respond, you leant against the brick wall of the building behind you, pulling her toward you by her waist. She cupped your face, and your lips met. Desire pooled in your stomach as your lips slotted together perfectly, moving together in sync. Her lips were way softer than they looked, and you had spent a lot of time looking at them.

Hazel pulled away slightly, and you instinctively chased her lips. She smirked, eyes scanning your face. You flushed deeply.

“Oh my god,” she said in that voice that made you want to melt into the floor, and you laughed in disbelief.

“I know,” you whispered before kissing the corner of her mouth. She smiled at this, pushing a strand of your hair out of your eyes. If it was anybody else, you would feel insecure about your swollen eye and bruised face, you would worry that you weren’t attractive, but it didn’t cross your mind once with Hazel. She made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

“I didn’t know-“ you both started to say at the same time, then giggled. You were literally giddy.

“You go,” you said.

“I didn’t know you liked me.”

“I didn’t know you liked me,” you replied, laughing.

“Do you remember-“ Hazel started, then cleared her throat. “Do you remember that book I lent you in eighth grade about those gay vampires?”

“That was literally my gay awakening,” you said with a laugh, unable to believe that she remembered that. “Wait, what does that-“

“I’ve been in love with you since then,” Hazel suddenly said, and your heart caught in your throat. You pulled Hazel even closer to you by her belt loops, and she gasped. You kissed her more passionately this time, your head spinning.

“I’m in love with you too,” you murmured when you pulled away, foreheads resting together.

[tachimichishrine]

i’ve found someone who writes for tachi?? omg?? you’re writing is so amazing i love it! can i req an x reader where she’s like chuuya’s subordinate in the pm so she’s higher ranking than tachihara but takes an interest in him bc, hello?? who wouldn’t? so she starts to play specific moves that draw them closer together (ngl im thinking mastermind by taylor swift if yk the song) and when they’re finally dating he confesses that he knew what she was doing the whole time? aka intelligent slightly manipulative reader thinking she’s being slick abt it. thank youu!

<welcome to the corner of tumblr where we worship tachi and have no shame about it !!!!!!!!!!! OH FUCK YEAH I love this ask I love the idea and I love you, i've never heard that song before but woah it got my brain juices flowing, sorry it took centuries but here you go luv ♡>

"mastermind"

⫭��⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! chuuya's subordinate! reader

warnings: mention of drugs/alcohol and drink spiking (dont try this at home kids) ; a little bit of gore/torture but it's one sentence ; for some reason there are some elements of kind of sort of yandere!reader that just manifested themselves grgrgr but barely i promiseee ; fluff + plot ; cursing n intended lowercase

it was the middle of the night, and your phone wouldn't stop ringing. you tried snoozing it, turning it on silent but it would keep vibrating on the night table aggressively. against your better judgement, you picked it up and took a look at the caller id.

"boss man 🤏🧍"

well, you couldn't ignore that.

"what the fuck do you want you short little shit, it's 2 in the fucking morning," you grumbled, then cleared your throat before actually pressing the green icon to pick up the line. "hello, boss. is there anything I can-"

"cut the bull, where the hell are you?"

"um, at home? sleeping?" you raised a brow that he couldn't see. "am I supposed to be somewhere?"

"you- forget about it. just get here, now."

now, he was really getting on your nerves. "get where? I can't read your mind, boss, what-"

he hung up.

you didn't have a problem with chuuya in general; he was a decent guy, sometimes. you got assigned to work under him in the fallout of his partner, the famed demon prodigy, disappearing. of course, he didn't want anything to do with you at first, and you would've felt the same if mori wasn't breathing down your neck to keep on it. so, you kept showing up on his missions a few minutes before he arrived, the information already extracted or people already beat to a pulp.

he still wouldn't budge, so you had enough of working so hard just to be his subordinate and exploded at him one day. he could barely get a word in as you yelled loudly and ranted about his inability to accept help. while he was speechless in the aftermath, you just sighed tiredly, handed him your phone number and said that you weren't going away anytime soon and you'd appreciate it if he would just let you work for him already. time passed and eventually you got his trust.

what you didn't get, however, was an explanation for why you were rushing to slide into clothing fit for the outside world and making your way to the port mafia headquarters. it was the only place he could mean, so you ran over there with guns strapped to your thighs and safety off. you had to plan for whatever the hell might've been going on, but all you saw was a nearly empty lobby.

you cursed under your breath, irritated that you busted your ass for no reason. from the corner of your eye, you found a familiar face and approached him.

"hirotsu," you walked over with a pissed expression, "do you know where chuuya is?"

"oh, chuuya isn't here. he told me he'd be sending someone to deal with it," he said following a polite nod of the head. "he needed the black lizard to perform a mission, but he's unavailable tonight. so, he said that he'd send you."

"he's unavailable?" your eyes nearly bulged straight out of your skull, but you caught the slight squint in his face. "oh. he's drunk out of his mind, isn't he?"

hirotsu nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so. mori only gave him this assignment tonight, and he was already intoxicated when he got the call. I was with him when it happened, so I suggested he call you."

"oh, he so owes me one after tonight," you chuckled, less angry now that you realized he was probably just collapsed on his couch at home and will have the worst hangover the next morning, which you could easily mock him for. well, at least that brightened your mood a little, aside from seeing the black lizard in action. you'd heard of them, ordered massacres through hirotsu but never been there to witness it. that would definitely be fun. "sooo, what exactly do I need to do? just be there or something? yell out 'fire!' like some kind of medieval war commander? 'cause I've always wanted to do that."

the old man was slightly amused by all of your excitement regarding the concept. he said that he just needed someone to be there in case, and you were technically of a higher ranking than he was. you told him that he was such a stickler for hierarchy; he retorted that you sounded like some guy he worked with named tachihara. who that was, you hadn't a clue, but you were assured he'd be there alongside another leader of the battalion.

the rest was a lot less interesting than you thought it would be. you strolled into an abandoned warehouse where the enemy was based with a small army behind you, and you stood there while they lined themselves at your side and waited for your word. you went against your inner child and ordered them to fire in a normal voice rather than a stupidly dramatic one, then you just watched the bodies fall. you glanced at the side to see hirotsu, who was intently scanning his surroundings to make sure there were no tricks. by his side, you saw a masked person and another man who was half-asleep, leaning against the wall.

you fell hard to the sound of gunshots.

maybe it was the way his entire body leaned onto the worn concrete, the way his foot was flattened against the wall and his hips slumped lopsidedly, the way his v-neck plunged down his chest from under his coat, the way his jaw sat tight and clenched despite his slender neck bending backwards to rest the weight of his head behind him. you pulled your gaze off of him since you were afraid of staring, but everyone was already dead and hirotsu was commanding the nameless suits back to hq. the man opened one eye - fuck, they were a glossy amber, some of the prettiest you'd ever seen - and scoffed while he followed them out. he walked like a textbook delinquent, hands in his pockets with awful posture, and you just watched him.

shit, what just happened? you exchanged some brief words with hirotsu as he thanked you for showing up, but all went over your head. you blurted out the question before you could think twice.

"which one of them was tachihara? out of the two who came with us. since, y'know, you were mentioning him earlier..." since, y'know, you couldn't get the picture of your mystery man out of your head and you needed to know his name.

following the affirmation that it was indeed the man with the bandage on his face, you at least had a name as you flopped back into bed at 5 in the morning. you didn't sleep, and you sure as hell couldn't get your heart to stop beating so fast.

something had unhinged inside of you, and all you knew was that you were going to have him.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"boss, what'd'ya want me to do to 'em?" you yawned, half-asleep as you sat next to the hungover mafioso who was holding some kind of mystery drink in his hand while the other shielded his eyes from the light of day. you came over to his apartment - something which you knew he hated but was in no position to protest right now - and were simultaneously nursing him back to health and being a pain in his ass. "if word gets out that we annihilated the organization but two of their executives are still alive, our rep would take a hit."

"can you shut the fuck up," he groaned, body slumping further onto his fancy kitchen counter while you continued to laugh internally at him and his slightly pathetic situation.

"look, boss, I'll tell you what," you leaned down to his crouched over height and placed a cautious hand on his shoulder, "I'll take care of it. the whole thing. I just need your permission to grab the black lizard if I need 'em for support, but I can make sure it all goes away. and you can just sit today out and spend all day in bed if that's what you want. how does that sound, boss?"

he grumbled and passed out again; you took that as a yes.

you smiled to yourself as you picked up the unconscious body bridal-style, walked over to his bedroom and set him down. he complained loudly in undefined slurring, but you just shushed him and tucked him in under the covers. he was still trying to argue with you when you removed his hat, placed it at his bedside and then gently kissed his forehead and wished him a good nap. it was a little ironic just how much your boss felt like an uncontrollable younger sibling, but you would never say it to his face as you enjoyed the use of your unfractured limbs.

you tiptoed your way out of the apartment and the building, despite being fairly certain that not even an earthquake could disturb his slumber, with parts and pieces of your plan coming together. what you said was true, you did need to take care of those surviving executives. but you didn't really need the black lizard.

you only needed him.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

tachihara heard a gentle cocking of the gun as you glanced in his direction, waiting confirmation that he was indeed ready to storm the facility. you had managed to track down the runaways and corner them in their hideout, and decided you'd call for "backup"; you asked hirotsu for someone who was good with guns and mid-range fighting, since you knew that if you didn't specify, you might end up with the other commander of the black lizard. you didn't like leaving things to chance.

you tilted your head to the side, giving the signal for him to go ahead and sneak down the next hallway. he was eerily good on his feet, light steps as if he were made to be a spy. you did a lot of infiltration work on chuuya's behalf (his face - rather, his short frame - were too easily recognizable on the streets), and every second got you thinking of ways to subtly suggest to him that he provide backup once more on any one of your numerous infiltration missions.

for his part, tachihara didn't seem to be noticing all the coincidences lately. he didn't appear particularly deft or clueless, just indifferent as if he truly couldn't care less. instead of a faint pang in the backrooms of your heart, you felt a sense of challenge, like it was your mission to get him to fall for you because the good things in life are worth fighting for. besides, where's the fun in it if he wasn't playing hard to get?

the mission went by in a blur. you mimicked his mannerisms, ensuring that your movements were perfectly synced with his so that your gunshots felt more like a dance, synchronized bullet ballet. when all was done and the bodies were dropped, you shot him a faint smile.

he raised a brow, perplexed at your joy among the sea of blood, but you began clutching at your chest like he'd shot you with his glare and he chuckled a little bit. you could've sworn you fell in love with him all over again.

"say, I was wondering..." you thought out loud as you crouched down to the body of the target, pulling out a knife from your calf, "are you new? in the port mafia, I mean. I've been here ages and I don't think I would've forgotten someone who shoots like you do."

leaning on the wall while he watched you carve out their skin, peeling off a specific section that had their organization's signature tattoo, tachihara scoffed. "what's it to you?"

"just makin' small talk, don't get your panties in a twist sweetheart," you snickered, albeit screaming a little internally; you didn't expect him to be so resistant. you bagged the proof you needed to show your boss that you got the job done, then rose back to your feet. "alright, we're done here. thanks for the backup."

"wasn't like it was my choice," he rolled his eyes, although you didn't sense any true irritation in his voice. good, this is good, you can work with that.

"wasn't your choice, huh?" you repeated to yourself out loud. "how 'bout this, then: I'm gonna go grab a drink, so it'd be your choice if ya wanted to tag along, no?"

he murmured something about being busy and you tried not to let him see you frown as you walked out.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

this was your fifth "coincidence".

coincidentally, tachihara ended up needing to hand-deliver a message to chuuya, but you coincidentally bumped into him and promised to pass it on. he looked at you a bit suspiciously, but didn't say anything.

coincidentally, you were out drinking with hirotsu on the same day he was going to join the old man. you wouldn't go so far as to say that you played a part in the veteran's sudden diarrhea that left you two alone, but then again it was quite odd that you slipped some sort of substance in his drink right before. not that anyone saw, of course.

coincidentally, weeks of coincidences paid off. every time you'd run into him, need the black lizard or the other way around, he was starting to loosen up. you had a number of inside jokes and he spoke a little more on missions.

this time, you had to go negotiate with a foreign organization from which you imported an important number of your firearms. chuuya was available to go, but you pleaded with him to let you do this on your own, making up some lie about how sending an underling instead of an executive would show them that they are not the ones in control. he seemed skeptical but let you go.

soon afterwards, you whipped out your phone to dial his number.

"it's so unfair!" you complained to tachihara, groaning loudly as you combed through your closet for the right outfit for the occasion. "like I get it, he's busy and all, but dumping a mission on me last minute? sheesh, that's a cheap move, especially from chuuya. I've got 2 hours to figure out what the fuck I'm going to say to these people."

you left the phone on speaker while you pressed dresses against your figure, glancing in the mirror to see if it was the right one. "and it's a big organization, too! I have no idea what I'm going to do if things go south except get my brains blown out."

lies. if things went south, you would easily be able to make your way out unscathed. you were the right hand woman to a port mafia executive, not a scared little girl, but he didn't need to know that right now.

"would'ya like me to tag along? if they see one person, it might look like you were sent as a sacrifice, but if we're two, they'll know we mean business," he offered, as planned. you pumped your fists in the air and contained a squeal.

"hm? oh, you don't need to do that, tachi," you said softly, sliding out of your clothes and into your form-fitting outfit, making sure to check out your ass and reaffirm that you looked stunning. "wait! I'm just kidding," you giggled playfully, "it would mean a lot if you did. thanks."

he chuckled the faintest amount, and you made plans for when and where to meet. you told him that it was a high-end restaurant, so he'd need to wear something fancy enough to blend in, but of course the high-end restaurant was your idea. you'd planned it all in advance, setting up a corner in the back of a place that the mafia had under their thumb and inviting the organization there.

a date, it was a date, and it didn't matter if he didn't know it.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"you look stunning, dear." he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it, looking up with soft eyes you'd never have expected. he pulled out a seat for you and called the waiter to get you a cold glass of water.

unfortunately, "he" was the executive from the other organization, not tachihara.

awkwardly, your plus one stood in the corner with the rest of the guards, shooting you occasional glares that basically screamed, "why did I volunteer to do this, again?" you just laughed internally and told yourself that you'd take him out again as a way to make up for it, which was your goal all along. you adored it when all the pieces fell into place.

the negotiations were flawless. the man across the table from you seemed to be very willing to cooperate, and you figured his slight cracks at flirting might've been a part of it. the other part was that he looked positively jet lagged and you might've put a little something in his wine to mellow him out. you were sure he would've reached the same conclusion if he was sober, this was just a harmless little nudge in the right direction.

"10% increase on the price for a 20% increase on the quantity of firearms imported, then," you reiterated, smiling sweetly at him while he agreed to double what someone in their right mind would ask for. "lovely doing business with you, sir. I'm glad this didn't have to escalate."

he smiled softly, offering you his hand to help you up then nodding his head towards the exit so his goons would follow him out. you looked at the piece of paper he'd slid into your palm, a phone number etched into it, then watched him looking back at you with a wink. for a moment, you could've sworn you'd almost forgotten about tachihara.

"that was boring as fuck," he strolled over to you, clicking his tongue as he complained about his feet hurting from standing there for so long, saying that he wouldn't have worn a goddamn suit and tagged along if he knew all he would be doing is watching you flirt with some guy."

"that," you stressed, pocketing the number but trying not to think about it, "was not flirting. if I was whoring myself out for the mafia, believe me I'd put myself down with my own hand."

"oh yeah? brave words for a woman with a dress that tight on her ass," he scoffed, crossing his arms before he realized what he'd just said.

"tachi, you lookin' at my ass?"

he seemed at a loss for words, huffing angrily as he walked out and you laughed to yourself. he was so cute when he got angry.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

tachihara michizou was not an idiot.

he, however, did not know what to make of your behaviour towards him.

all these run-ins, all your conveniently-timed missions where you were down one person, every text you seemed to send at the perfect time. he knew your gaze lingered on him and he knew that you wore that dress for him, but he couldn't be sure about it.

confirmation came when he was casually chatting with chuuya over drinks.

"my damn subordinate has been so fucking weird lately," the executive slurred, gesturing for another glass while he toyed with the empty one. "reminds me of that fucking dazai... always plotting some kind of shit..."

"she sounded kind of pissed with you 'cause of that last gig with the firearms dealers," he retorted before downing his shot and slamming his fist on the counter out of adrenaline. "since you dumped it on her."

"huh?! the fuck you mean, dump it on her? she was practically beggin' me for that job, said she didn't want any backup either. I'm telling you, tachi, that chick's gone mad."

so it was a lie, when you called him, complaining. he wondered what else was a lie, but then he wondered why you would lie about that.

as if on cue, a message popped up on his phone with your name on it.

"are you free tonight?"

so he wasn't imagining things. for some reason, it got his heart beating, thinking about the fact that someone would do that for him. but, before he could respond, another ping:

"I got shot sorry lol I have no idea why I made it sound like I was asking you out. could you bring a first aid kit or something? thanks a ton!!"

he concluded on the fact that you were confusing, and that he wouldn't say anything about it, especially since you probably think you're incredibly slick about it. instead, tachihara excused himself from a very drunk chuuya and said he had to go.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"ow, ow, ow! fuck, why don't you just pour the whole damn bottle on there, while you're at i- fuck!"

the whining was hard. you had to do it manually, making sure you actually sounded like you were in pain when really, your "fever" was from all the heat of feeling tachihara's hands on you as he dabbed the wound.

ironically enough, this wasn't planned. you genuinely did fuck up, the man you never called seemed to want revenge because he sent a few people to kidnap you. you only got grazed while you took care of all the henchmen, but it still hurt like a little bitch.

he was the first place your mind went to, as always. you managed to get yourself home but you couldn't reach the spot on the bottom of your ribcage where it sliced open without feeling a lot of pain.

and so, you just turned it into an opportunity to get him in your house, sitting on your couch, his hands on your skin that was barely covered by your shirt. the alcohol he was pouring onto the wound hurt but you couldn't feel anything except pure ecstacy.

"say, you're not bad at this," you fake winced as he pinched the skin together and just put a bunch of superglue on it. "you got... gah, you got experience as a medic or somethin'?"

"how exactly did this happen?" he ignored your question and instead helped you up slightly so he could wrap the bandages around your torso.

"remember the guy from the other night? well, he gave me his number and I never called, so he got butthurt and sent some goons to fuckin' kidnap me. or kill me, I'm not sure. I didn't really pause to ask 'em."

he looked as if he almost didn't believe you, pulling down your shirt and gently tapping on the spot he bandaged. "there, you're all set."

"thanks again," you smiled at him, groaning a bit as you sat upright. "I know it's late and you were probably doing some other shit."

then a slight pause. "if you want to crash on my couch instead of walkin' home, I don't mind."

the walk wasn't long, and he didn't feel tired at all, but he didn't tell you that. he just helped you walk over to your bed then got himself comfortable on your sofa.

you'd never been happier to get shot. maybe the universe was finally on your side, in its own weird way.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

the wound was fully healed and tachihara was yours.

it was the perfect excuse to him check on you, to have him come over and stay over as "protection in case someone tries to kill you again". both of you knew your excuse was bullshit, your plotting to get him by your side so painfully obvious now that he was getting closer and closer to you. by the time he was making visits on his own and smiling at you in the hallways at the port mafia, you didn't need to do anything anymore.

it was a wordless confession; both of you walking in the streets at night, going nowhere and not saying much. it was cold and you could see both of your breaths swirling in the air. you blinked and suddenly your faces were close, too close, and your body was leaning in on its own. his lips tasted like something your mind could've never guessed.

nevertheless, you were still addicted.

something about the kiss felt effortless, too. like you didn't need to do anything, say anything to get him to wrap his hands around your hips and pull you in close. this was the way it should be, easy and effortless. like you could wait patiently and he'd fall in love with you all on his own.

"have you seen my holster?" he called out weeks later as you laid down on your couch, reading a book as he looked around for the item.

"it's over here!" you called out, the holster expertly hidden in between the cushions because you wanted him to come over to you and find it. as he walked over to you, watching you wave it while dangling on your finger, a teasing look on your features.

"you're a conniving little shit, you know that?" he sighed with a soft smile, glancing at your hands as you set down the book by your side then sitting by your side. "if you wanna talk to me, you can ask like a regular person, y'know?"

his wide smirk as he looked at you pout, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you fake-sobbed into his chest. "you're so mean, thinking I'm lying!"

he grabbed your chin, gaze directly settling onto you with a look that said not to bullshit him. "you think I don't notice? when you kept bumping into me, us getting paired up on missions, even that time you said chuuya 'dumped' that job on you? yeah, you're cute but you're not a great liar."

you furrowed your brows. "if you knew, why didn't you say anything?"

"'cause I wanted you to tell me yourself."

"asshole," you pouted, laughing as you leaned towards him and kissed the tip of his nose. "I just didn't think... never mind, it worked, didn't it?"

he rolled over, laying you down on the couch and settling himself on top of you, making sure you were trapped. "being all cryptic now, aren't we?"

"maybe," you muttered between kisses, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him deeper. "... maybe... maybe you were just... I dunno, so pretty, and I thought 'fuck, he'd never go for me' and... I don't know, it's not important..."

"aw, look at you, gettin' all soft 'n mushy," he chuckled into your neck, smiling at your words while his teeth graze the tip of your earlobe. "keep talking 'bout how out of your league that I am."

"oh, shut up," you whispered, grabbing a handful of his hair and bringing his lips back onto yours so he would stop talking. "I'm tryin to open up here, you smug dipshit."

he grinned as his hand went down in between your thighs, parting them and opening up your legs. "I like the sound of that."

you squealed playfully and rolled him over, but the couch wasn't wide enough and you both fell onto the floor with a dull thud and a frenzy of laughter.

"seriously, though," he brushed your hair out of your face and pulled your hips so you were snug on him while you caught your breath and lowered yourself to kiss him again, "you're talkin' nonsense, baby."

"mmn, if you say so," rolled right onto his tongue. you believed his words, or maybe you didn't, but it barely mattered. he was here now, in your arms and telling you everything you wanted to hear. he said that he knew of your antics, yet the truth was that he couldn't do a damn thing about it if he wanted to.

all because you're a mastermind.

[sonder-paradise]

Can I request crack h/cs for the ADA playing wii sports pls

— 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐢 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐃𝐀

— 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢

somehow someway, this man cheats his way to victory. he's a menace that loves to get into the minds of his opponents to win. I'm not sure how he can keep that disgusting smile on his face as he wins for the ninth time today. literally all five games: baseball, tennis, boxing, golf, and bowling

is genuinely good at tennis though. he looks like a graceful ass fairy that has no clue how to fly normally when he smacks that little virtual ball over onto poor atsushi's court. do not let him win at tennis because he will never let it down.

calls himself a wii sports king. kunikida will give anyone permission to absolute rock his shit if they win. dazai also somehow makes it a competition as an excuse to slack off and let some poor soul (tanizaki, atsushi) do his work.

— 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚

leave this poor boy alone. please he doesn't understand sports in real life how is he going to handle swinging a virtual baseball bat into the sky?? but he's probably worried he's gonna drop the controller because he straps that thing onto his hand like it's his only life support. i mean listen if he's against dazai, it sorta is.

not very good at any of the five sports. he just tries his best and is more focused on how strange his mii character looks rather than his game. not because he loves his mii but... did he always have that fucked up of bangs...? (no atsushi we love your weird bangs)

kunikida coaches him when they play golf together. kinda wholesome, kinda kunikida triumphantly trying to get anyone else other than dazai to win.

— 𝐃𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨 𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐚

a true master at wii golf. but only wii golf. he seems like a golf man, you know what i mean? yeah. but anyway, he's going to be the one that ensures that everyone's playing by the rules. let's be honest here, dazai ain't the only one somehow cheating during this event. but hear me out here: if there was a fishing sport... he would win it every time.

is maybe just a little bit into the idea of turning the event into a competition but certainly not to slack off from work. thinks of it as a good bonding session for the agency. though i don't know much about bonding since everyone's this close to cursing yosano and ranpo for continuously winning tennis games together.

get's a little too into the whole thing and is adorably proud to have won his golf matches. look he had the most strokes out of everyone <3

— 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐤𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐨

literally a goddess at bowling. look at her form, she can do no wrong *-* but prefers to sit back and let the others play. lowkey makes atsushi play for her during the golf and baseball ones. but still laughs when he somehow manages to get multiple homeruns for her by some sort of cruel miracle.

okay but she's absolutely terrifying when playing boxing against the others. she's horrifying beaten dazai and tanizaki specifically into a pulp. literally orange juice by the end of it. the only ones she takes it easy on are ranpo, kyouka, and kenji. everyone else is forced to watch her start maniacally cackling at their upcoming demise.

is pretty competitive about it. she's been cooped up in her office all day, let her have some fun on the little wii sports game thing. okay, but her and ranpo are actual monsters on the tiny virtual tennis courts. their teamwork is unmatched.

— 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚

doesn't try to hard on many of these. most of the time he doesn't truly attempt at all. he's most likely the lowest on the scoreboard and doesn't quite see the appeal like the others. but he's pretty decent at tennis with yosano (primarily because he lets her do most of the work)

but when he does end up scoring pretty high by putting in the hella effort, he does that little thingy where he looks to fukuzawa to make sure he was watching. let him proud of his accomplishments goddammit. also brags about it like dazai will and on the occasion will cause dazai's cheating schemes or his bluffs when he's focused on winning.

has dropped his remote multiple times before. not sure how the agency keeps extras but he goes through at least three every time they do these game nights. they even bought him those covers for the remote but he managed to launch one out the window once still.

— 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢

pretty much in the same boat as atsushi. leave the poor boy alone man. it doesn't help much that naomi will make a lot of comments about his form and how he should play. but when he does do well, he's extra proud of himself. looks to naomi as if asking whether or not she saw.

honestly not the best at any of the games except maybe baseball. i could see him being really focused and into the moment but the second he goes to swing naomi will break his concentration. other than that, he's honestly decent at it. everyone's screaming when they watch him slowly start accumulating points.

is usually the designated snack-bringer to these things. it wasn't even supposed to be an actual event or game night before he started doing it. his seniors (*cough* ranpo *cough*) just started asking him to bring snacks so he did. honestly prided himself on that job in particular.

— 𝐘𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

doesn't play too often. he prefers watching all his kids i mean employees (who are all essentially orphans so no difference rlly) play instead. sometimes they'll insist that he play a round of tennis or something simple and he just doesn't understand.

he swore he swung right when the ball came into his court and does he move with the mii or does he stand in place?? who threw that ball again? wait he controls the back court mii too?? leave the man alone, he just wants to understand what this magical white box does and where the freaking sensor on this thing is.

and if you're wondering if he does watch ranpo, he does and he's very proud of him when he wins. usually just nods his head sternly in ranpo's direction and continues to watch the rest of them play. seriously though, how does that devil white box work?

— 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

absolutely joyful to be included. he’s so impressed that these little people can be controlled through the screen by these little white remotes??? “city people are so cool!!” he’s not good at wii or technology in general but he’s more than excited to watch

was very dedicated to making his little mii look as perfect as possible. might have accidentally broken the tv once or twice and then drastically apologized after wards. never gets frustrated when he loses but thanks his opponent almost instantly

— 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐤𝐚 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢

doesn’t play too often. she doesn’t find too much interest in it and it’s only when dazai plops the controller into her hand or when atsushi urges her a little that she actually budges. when that happens she’s actually pretty decent at the games and if she does win someone will buy her tofu

atsushi and yosano usually take it easy on her since she’s still getting used to the game. she’s fully aware of this fact but doesn’t say anything still. she does like teaming with kenji though since she has the most fun with him while playing

Taglist: @todorokichills @alittlesimp @greenshirtimaginesii @darlinqserenity @nameless-shrimp @whorefordazai @requiem626k @missrown @rirk-ke @kiyokoxd @jessbeinme15 @starglow-xx @shadyteacup @colourless-cora @scul-pted @kuraxmasha @yochicoz @pompompurin1028 @trashykawahq @swrdemon @life-sus @hanemiso @foolishestchildofchilds @fyodorscello @kur0-kawa @dazaiaiko @chuuyasboots @ruthdied @allisonlol @questioningmyownexistence @sebtomm @nullified-kiss @nathansside @cuteflowers-101 @sigmafied @boombboi @scarletta-ruan @skgch @daz8i @httpsobi @dazaiscum @thekaylahub @luciferspen @dazaisfavgf @thesatanofpizza @yuuotosaka3 @roiizuha @kisara-16reblogs @alice0blog @irethepotato @vinyicryes @monastary

[abbatoirablaze]

Teller Morrow Tragedy, The Prequel, Chapter 17

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, gun violence, murder, mentions of underage drinking.

Happy's POV

"So you got the plan?" I asked the kid.  He nodded.  I tapped his shoulder, "good.  Where's your phone?  They are probably tracking you."

He held it up to me and I took it, "you think this is gonna work?"

I nodded, "yeah.  You said Frankie is short, fat little Italian fuck.  Got a tattoo of a rosary on his chest."

"Yeah," he said, "I noticed it one time when he got blood on his shirt from beating a guy to a pulp."

"I don't need the history lesson," I said cutting him off, "just go into the club.  Exactly like we planned.  Jax and Chibs will be in there already.  I'll find my way in after I see where they take you."

I watched as his face went pale, "you think they are going to take me somewhere?"

"I meant in the building," I said quickly, "you hooked up the camera on your phone to transmit to mine, so I'll be able to see where on the blueprint they took you.  Okay?"

"Okay," he said, nodding his head, "can I...can I just call Alicia before we go?"

"No," I said simply, leading us out of the hotel room.  Jax and Chibs got into a cab, and we went to the parking garage where I had the van rented out already.  I got in and instructed him to walk to the club a few blocks away.  When he was out of site, I pulled up my phone.  He was making his way to the club. 

I saw the phone move, and suddenly I was parallel with his face.  I heard the numbers dial and a ringing began, "Hi, this is Alicia Morrow.  Sorry I missed your call.  I'm either busy chasing after my kids, or working but if you leave a message, I'll get back to you.  Leave your name and number.  Have a great day."

I heard the dial tone beep, and the kid sounded scared, "Hey...I just wanted to say I'm sorry.  For everything.  I know you said this isn't my fault...but I'm doing this because I want you and Mikey to be safe.  I-I love you, Alicia.  You are like a mom to me...I just want you to know that...wh-whatever happens.  I'm sorry."

I saw the phone go back into his pocket on his tee shirt and I felt a little sad as I started the van up.  I couldn't fuck up.  Not with this kid.  I had to keep him protected.  I pulled across the street from the club and sat in the back of the van.  It was starting to get dark out, and guys were going into the strip club.  I saw Juice coming up on the club when his phone rang. 

"Don't answer it," I pleaded, “Let it go to voicemail, kid.”

I heard him curse under his breath before answering it, "you got my message?"

"I love you too," was all she said.  I could hear that she'd been crying, "I-"

"Alic-"

"Stop," she sniffled, "I have to say this.  When Happy and I lost our son...a part of me died with the baby.  I think a large part of him died too...when I met you, and we had the same painful connection...and that’s what brought us together.  I can’t say that I agree with you doing this, but I understand it.  And I want you to know that you are my son Juan Carlos.  I look at you like one.  You will always be my son.  Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he whispered.  He shuddered and after a second he continued again, "I'm afraid."

"They'll protect you," she cried, "they won't let anything happen to you, okay?  Trust them."

"Okay," he replied, "but if so-"

"No," she said quickly, "don't you dare say that Juan Carlos Ortiz.  No."

"Okay," he said, "I uh...gotta go."

"I love you."

"I love you too, mom."

I saw him hang up the phone and put it in his pocket again.  I felt myself tearing up.  I’d felt dirty listening to the conversation, but also felt a little bit lighter.  She was right.  When we lost our child, a large part of my mentality had changed, and I was hellbent on destroying myself.  But then Jax asked me to come back…to protect her and the kid.  And I knew I couldn’t fail her again. 

As I was lost in my thoughts, the kid came to the entrance of the club.  He was stopped by a guy at the door, "where do you think you are going, kid?  You’re a little young to be here!"

"Tell Frankie that Juan Carlos is here."

The bouncer checked his list and nodded to the second guy.  He said something over an earpiece then nodded to his partner, "I'll take him up."

I watched as they led him past the main part of the club and up a flight of stairs.  I got out of the van and went two buildings over.  From there I crossed onto the roof of the club, down the fire escape onto the third floor.  It looked mostly abandoned.  There happened to be an unlocked window that I got in through.  I could see to the end of the hall where there was a set of stairs.  I made my way down them and found myself in a wine cellar of sorts.  From there I knew that there was an office set up to my left, and a hallway between us.  I grabbed my tarp and laid it out being as quiet as possible. 

I looked at my phone to see that Juice was just on the other side of the door.  Before the guy could knock, I pulled him into the room and Juice rushed in, closing the door behind us.  I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans and shot him. 

The silencer did its job and the tarp did the same, collecting the blood from the bullet wound in his skull.  I lifted him to see that there was no exit wound.  I cursed as a drop of blood got onto his suit.  I looked at Juice, "help me get him undressed."

"What?"  he asked. 

I didn't repeat the order.  I ripped his jacket off him and the pants before any large amount of blood got on them.  I threw the guy’s clothes on, and tossed my jeans and hoodie off into the corner.  I went to the door, "stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm getting Jax and Chibs.  Drag the body behind the wine racks.  Take my bag upstairs along with my clothes.  We'll be there in 10."

I walked out of the room and back to the main floor.  I could see Jax and Chibs nursing beers at the bar.  I tapped them both on the shoulder, "will you gentlemen follow me?"

"They're fine," a bartender said, trying to shrug me off, “they aren’t a problem.”

"Frankie wants em," I replied.  Her eyes got wide and she immediately went to the other end of the bar.  Chibs chuckled, “gentlemen?”

"Where's the kid?" I heard over the earpiece.

"On my way, sir," I responded, "kid said he had to piss."

"Well hurry up!" the earpiece buzzed. 

"On it."

I looked over to Jax and Chibs when we got to the door.  I knocked, "ENTER!"

I went through first and made my way up to him.  From the back pocket I pulled out my brass knuckles, "Where the hell is the kid."

Jax and Chibs followed, closing the door, guns raised at him.  I charged the desk and punched him in the face, knocking him out in one fail swoop.  I took the tie off and used it as a gag and fixed him to his chair before waking him up. 

He started freaking out.  I ripped open his shirt and saw the rosary.  I looked over at Jax and Chibs, "it's him."

Jax walked up to the guy and sat down on the desk, "Frankie Leone.  Do you know who we are?"

He didn't respond.  He just kept looking between us.

"My name is Happy Lowman," I said, pulling a knife from one of the holsters on my shoulders, "I was engaged to Alicia Morrow.  Your men beat her...and stabbed her...and my unborn son.  Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

The man shook his head. 

I smiled, "I'm going to make you feel the same pain she felt."

Juice's POV

You're running out of time, man," I said to Chibs.  I held a hand up to one of the sweet butts behind the bar and she handed me a beer, "you still haven't told her?" 

He looked at me, clearly agitated, "she asn't said a word to me since you guys came back." 

"You mean since you two had sex," I said with a laugh, "everyone heard you two going at it that night." 

His face got red.  I laughed even more.  He peeled his eyes from her, and looked at the beer in my hand, "who in the hell gave you one?" 

I pointed back at the sweet butt behind the bar and Chibs glared at her before taking it from me, "He's a minor ya fuckin' slag." 

She turned her attention away from us and I looked back at him, "that was uncalled for.  She liked me." 

"Yeah, and you're only 16.  That's illegal." 

"Whatever," I said, shrugging him off, "if you really want to push me in a certain direction though, Missy is the only one around my age." 

"If you want to go after Alicia's sister, that's your death wish," he laughed, "though, she does like those Mayans...so you're more in her wheelhouse." 

I shook my head, "I was joking." 

He shrugged his shoulders and went back to looking over at Alicia who was sitting on Jax's lap, playing cards.  He looked angry. 

"You know," I offered, "if you actually approached the situation like a man, she probably would tell you she felt the same way.  She's just afraid of another failed relationship.  At least when she goes back to Jax, she knows that it'll never work out.  No hope.  No risk" 

"Shite," he sighed, looking at me, "that's a dark outlook." 

"She told me that once when I asked her about you two." 

"You asked her about me?" 

"Around July 4th.  You two still hadn't said more than a sentence to another," I said, thinking back to that night, "at the party, she wanted to talk to you, but you started making out with some crow eater.  That's when she started messing around with Jax again." 

"You know more then you should," he said, downing his glass, "but I'll take your advice for once." 

I watched as he walked over to Alicia and a few words were exchanged.  I couldn't hear anything, but I saw Jax's arm get a little tighter on her waist, before she kissed him on the cheek and walked outside with Chibs.  

"God these whores are the worst," she said from beside me.  My eyes whipped to Missy who had taken a seat at the bar, "they won't give me any booze." 

"I know the feeling," I laughed, a smile reaching my lips, "and when they do the guys take it back." 

"You know," she said, leaning against the bar, "I haven't really talked to you much, but you guys have been here for like 5 months.  What's your name again?" 

"Juan Carlos," I laughed.  I saw her eyes light up and she pushed some blonde curls from her face. 

"Juan Carlos," she purred.  I tried to stifle some laughter as she tried her best to act sexy.  She was dressed scantily, but for some reason it just wasn't doing it for me.  Oh yeah.  Because she's 12, "so Juan Carlos how old are you again?" 

"Sixteen," I chuckled, "and you're twelve, right?" 

"I'll be 13 soon," she replied quickly, “so we’re kind of close in age…”

I patted her shoulder, "alright." 

With that I got up and walked over to the pool table.  No one else was playing so I racked the balls and broke it.  Jax grabbed a stick and walked up, "can I join?" 

I nodded, "sure.  You're solids." 

He nodded, and lined up his shot, before nodding in the direction of the bar, "Missy tried to get with you, didn’t she?" 

I laughed, "yeah.  How'd you know?" 

"You're her type," he laughed, sinking his shot, "you know she's 12, right?" 

"Not interested in the slightest," I replied as he missed.  I lined up my shot and got 2 in, "she's not really my type." 

"Good," Jax laughed.  He leaned against the pool table, "so...have you thought about my offer?" 

I nodded, "yeah..." 

"And?" 

"Alicia will kill me if I say yes." 

"Let me deal with her, when the time comes.  Do you want to be a son one day?" 

"I think I should worry about graduating high school first." 

"Come on, Juice, we both know that won't be an issue.  You're doing great right now.  Junior year seems like it's going pretty well for you." 

"Well Alicia wants me to go to school." 

"Fuck school," he laughed as he sank his shot, "what do you want to do?" 

"I don't know," I admitted, "I didn't really think about it too much before.  You know, when I was in New York, I was just some hacker.  When Alicia took me in, she helped me so much.  I don't want to let her down." 

"You won't," he said.  He leaned the stick against the pool table, "all I'm saying is that, if you want a spot with us, I've already talked to Clay.  He said that if you do want to join we can get someone to sponsor you...hell Chibs even volunteered." 

"He did?" 

"Yeah," Jax smiled, "now, I don't know if he's doing it to try and get into Alicia's pants, but he did offer it." 

"Speaking of my mom," I said, crossing my arms, "what are your intentions with her?" 

"Honestly?" he asked, "I'm just going with the moment.  Alicia is the first person that ever made me feel okay...she's great at giving you hope.  I know that her and I won't work out.  Our story was written and done with after we had Mikey...but there will always be a part of me that loves her...and I'd be the dumbest man in the world to reject any time she comes back to me.  Even if it's just for a night." 

"Did you ever think that it might affect Mikey though?" I asked, "I mean we have to go back to Chicago eventually...and you two are playing happy family.  I'm just a kid, but have you guys talked to Mikey about what happens when mommy and her and I go home?" 

He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a minute, before shaking his head, "I hadn't thought of that.  But I'm done being an absentee father.  My daughter needs a father...and I've already missed out on seven years."

Chapter 18

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @evyiione

[a-dorky-american]

Got a pocket full of headcannons about you and Alfred

-Alfred sometimes wakes up people by pounding two frying pans and does that “I didn’t get any sleep cause of you, you’re never gonna get sleep cause of me” thing

-Scout was the one who encouraged Matthew to propose Alfred did too but his way included fireworks

-every Christmas whenever Alfred goes Christmas shopping either with Scout or his dads or Matthew and they announce Santa is coming, Alfred will 100% go “SANTA!!! OH MY GOD!!”

-Alfred proposed with a ring pop (idk your favorite flavor is but he does know your favorite flavor)

-some mornings Alfred surprises Scout with breakfast in bed and Scout does this as well but only on Alfred’s birthday

-Alfred always hugs Scout super tight whenever he gets scared of a horror movie or game

-Scout loves to surprise Alfred with McDonald’s after a busy day (especially gets them a McFlurry to share)

-one of Alfred’s favorite things to do is sing the duck song and always wants someone to join in, this ends with Romano cursing about how messed up it is

LMAO! 😂😂😂😂

-Yeah, he's definitely done that a couple of times ever since I showed him that vine. I usually try to ignore it lol.

- We both encouraged Canada to propose to @piscesgirl2020. I suggested Niagra Falls when the sunset was just right. America's was similar to mine, but it involved fireworks shooting out from the top of the waterfall that spelled out "Will you marry me?" While Canada thought the suggestion was cute, he eventually went with my idea (but he said he could bring sprinklers if Ari said yes, which he did (he even gave me one 🙃)).

- Omg, YES! Ever since he's watched Elf, he won't stop referencing it around Christmas time. He did it one time when we were in the middle of Market Square and everyone wouldn't stop looking at us... It was embarrassing.

- America makes the BEST pancakes and sausage! It's always a joy to be surprised in bed with his cooking! For his birthday, I make him waffles, sunny side eggs, and bacon with a glass of orange juice (no pulp tho. He doesn't like pulp.) I usually use Canada's maple syrup (sorry Canada), but in my defense America does it too.

- In all honesty, we hug EACH OTHER whenever we watch a horror movie or play a horror game. I get just as scared with that kind of stuff. As much as that man is suffocating me, I'm suffocating him just as much lol. 😅

- It's the only time I EVER go into a McDonald's for anything lol. Whenever I notice that America is in a bad mood, I sometimes stop to get him a happy meal. I get myself Panera, but I do indulge in a McFlurry for the two of us to share as a dessert. As my Grandpa Tony always said, "You gotta finish off with something sweet!"

- I am guilty of joining in on the Duck Song. It's just so catchy! Romano can say all he wants about it, but I'm spending quality time with my boy, damnit!

@koolkat9 @piscesgirl2020 @newhetaliafan @elithegnome feel free to jump in on the headcannons!

[strawberries-and-creame]

What about if Dave's s/o found out how Bro treat's him and one day kicks his ass and moves Dave into their place?

It isn’t exactly as requested but I hope you enjoy anyways ^_^

You had began to notice the different sizes of bruises on his limbs. When he would stretch and his shirt would rise, you could see reddened and purplish bruises to ones that were faded into yellow, showing previous ones.

You’d see how tired he appeared when you visited. The bags that were dark and heavy despite his dark, slight opaque shades did little to hide it from others that were close to him.

It wasn’t until Dave had seemed more stressed out that usual that you’d decided to ask him.

“Dave, what’s bothering you?”

He posture stiffened. “What do you mean?”

You swished around the remaining apple juice in your bottle. “You seemed stressed lately?” You said in almost suggestion. Trying to pry but not out right say it. “You also look tired, more so than usual.”

Dave squirmed slightly in his seat next to you. “Nah babe, I’m cool. Just haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand and very forced smile. “How about we play some video games?”

You frowned. “Dave…”

____________

It what been a few days since that evening, and now your worry had rose to unhealthy amounts.

Dave had avoided you since that night, and barely replied to texts that you sent.

You looked down to your phone and with an firm grunt you texted him quickly.

‘Dave I’m coming over. Now.’

Your pace to the high rise apartment was quick. Your thoughts heavy as you keyed in the code to the buildings entrance.

He’s never like this. He’s usually the one to text first and constantly at that. Your chats could go into the early hours of the morning sometimes.

The elevator seemed to be moving in half time while your sneakered foot tapped impatiently.

Why was he avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Maybe you should have left well enough alone.

You pressed the button to his floor.

“Please be okay…” you whispered to yourself, the doors opening and you almost sprinted out them before they could open all the way.

You came to Dave’s apartment door and saw that it was unlocked. You decided to knock nonetheless before entering.

“Hello? Dave…? Mr.Strider? It’s Y/N.”

There was not a single person besides you in the entire apartment. Well you plus the countless puppets of Dave’s brother but you tried not to make eye contact.

You could hear something coming from the floor above you. Rats? It would have to be big freaking ones. Metal? Rats with knives? No that couldn’t be what it was.

You decided to investigate since Dave was no where to be found inside his home. You walked through his room, trying your best to not trip over the various cables on the ground that was hooked up to sound equipment and turntable.

You came to his open window and heard the sound of metal clashing and quickened footsteps coming from above more clearly.

“It’s a stretch but maybe they’re on the roof?” You said to yourself, already sticking a leg out the window to the staircase platform inches from the window sill.

As you made your ascent you stomach felt uneasy. Maybe as if you wouldn’t like what you found when you made it to the final step.

A familiar voice piqued your attention.

“Can’t abscond, bro.”

Dave’s older brother? Can’t abscond from what exactly?

You lifted yourself up to the final step and had to fight the gasp from escaping your lips at the scene you found.

Dave was panting heavily, in one hand one of the swords he kept in his room, the other was grabbing onto his side. His face was twisted in a combination of pain, fear, and anger.

He looked like he was about to fall right where he stood, his knees struggling to hold his weight above them. Which said just how bad he was seeing as how he didn’t weigh much at all.

Dave gave a loud grunt, forcing himself to a battle stance before running at his Bro with a strained battle cry. He pivoted the sword to face his older sibling head on, but was grabbed by his shirt and flung the way he had came.

His body skidded across the cement floor and came to a stop against one of the many air conditioner units for the building.

Bro walked to him slowly, his own sword still drawn at his side. His presence menacing to both Dave and yourself.

Dave seemed to shrink in on himself, arms already out in front of him. He brought them where they covered his head and his torso. “Bro… please. Can’t we stop for today?”

Before you could tell your body differently, it was already moving. Your legs spurred your body forward, sprinting towards the brothers.

Your lungs filled with air as you shouted almost helplessly. “Stop!! Mr. Strider, please!”

The two looked towards you almost instantly. One being stoic behind his shades, the other alarmed.

“Y/N what are you doing her-“ Your boyfriend began, his tone making your chest tighten with just how scared it sounded.

Before he could finish you brought yourself between the two, placing your arms around him from behind you, your front facing his brother. Your chest was heaving from sprinting and the anxiety that welded up inside you from the intense stare Bro was giving you.

“Mr. Strider, I’m I mean-“ you tried but cursed your tongues insolence. “Please, I don’t know what’s going on but can’t you stop for… today? Dave seems really hurt right now, and it’s getting late.”

You felt Dave’s body tense from his place behind you. You moved your hand to where it held one of his and gave a firm squeeze.

“Please Mr. Strider?” You pleaded, looking into the dark chasm of his sunglasses. If you had to beg, so be it. If it meant that Dave wasn’t getting the shit beat out of him, you would grovel.

Bro paused for a moment before sheathing his blade back into its holder. “It is late.” He replied in a low tone, placing Lil Cal on his shoulders. “We’ll go ahead and call it a day, Dave. Try to be with it next time.” He said, his eyes making their sight on the male behind you.

He then turned toward you. “Y/N, feel free and make yourself at home. I take it you’re here to see him?”

How could he act like he didn’t just beat the ever loving fuck out of his little brother?

You nodded stiffly, trying to not show the shakiness through your body. “Yes.”

He gave a small nod and without another word he jumped off the side of the building, but you could hear him on the staircase below.

A few moments passed in silence before you felt your knees give out and you landed on them with a soft sound. Your heart was still racing and you could hear it in your ears with every quicken breath you took.

Your turned on your knees and face Dave who would not make eye contact with you.

His normal stoic expression was plastered back on his beaten up face. His cheek a gnarly colored purple with his lip busted and blood pooling from the wound.

You didn’t even want to think about the injuries that you couldn’t see.

Words escaped you. What could you possible say to make everything that just happened seem like it didn’t? He got beaten to a pulp, by his own guardian. The person that was supposed to protect him.

You could see Dave’s eyes moving to steal a glance at you through the sun hitting his glasses. The red pools of his orbs made tour e/c ones start to water.

They screamed helpless behind the still expression he wore almost all the time. You knew that this instilled stoicism wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t often that he showed emotions, he had gone so long without them from such a young age, it was hard for him to break down those learned behaviors.

You’d do it for him, you’d let down your walls first.

Your eyes began to flood with tears, making their color shimmer against the sun that was now setting beside you.

“Y/N?” He questioned softly, a frown forming on his face. He raised a hand to try and place on yours. “H-Hey it’s okay, this stuff is normal at my house. Bro beat my ass, that’s all there is to it. I keep telling him I don’t want to be a hero, but he just doesn’t listen sometimes. I just wasn’t with it today.”

You instead flung your arms around him, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. You let out a sob. “This isn’t normal! None… none of this is normal.”

You squeezed him to your harder. You hoped and prayed that he could feel just how much you loved and cared for him with just how snug your arms were keeping him pressed against you.

“Getting the shit beat out of you isn’t normal! Having bruises all over your body isn’t normal! No one should have to worry about getting a beat down by their own family.”

You felt his body stiffen against you again, his hands pulling at your shirt from behind in fistfuls.

You pushed his head to your shoulder, locking your fingers in his soft locks. Your chest wavered as sobs erupted from your core for him. Tears streaked down your cheeks and you cried.

Dave’s shoulders sagged and he dropped his head on your shoulder and let you cry. Silently he too wove his fingers through your hair and comfortably stroked through them.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry that you’re not safe. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you.” You chanted in between sobs into his shoulder.

You felt Dave let out a strained laugh, the bone crushing hug causing him some discomfort. “I’ll be okay. I promise, Y/N.”

Eventually you and him descended back into his room, and you helped bandage him up from his bed. A little uneven with some of the bandages, but it made you feel better that he was patched up.

He would be okay, because you decided from then on, that you would protect him. You would be his knight in shining armor if that’s what it took for him to be safe.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Treasure hunt

Pairing: dragon!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, death of minor characters, minor depiction of violence.

Words: 2133.

Summary: No knight would dare to save a sacrificial bride of the dragon.

______________

When he lowered your body into a little pond, a cloud of blood dissolved into the water. You whined, looking at your wounded legs. They stopped bleeding when you were in the air riding on the flying dragon's back, but it still hurt too much for you to walk across the cave on your own. You felt the man leaving a gentle kiss on the top of your head while you sobbed.

"You will be alright, my darling." He cooed in your ear in a soft voice and let the water cover half of your body, soaking your long white nightgown smeared with blood. 

You shivered but stayed where you were. You were thinking of his eyes dark as the twilight sky when he came closer to you, tied to a stake and barely conscious after all the beating you took. You tried to run on the day of sacrifice, and the villagers didn't take it kindly. They tried to cover your wounds as much as they could, but the dragon only had to lift the hem of your nightgown to see the ugly shackles marks on your skin. He took away the cranberry beads from your neck and saw your chest, all black and blue, smeared with the red juice. Did they think these smashed berries could cover the bloody marks? 

When the dragon in a form of a man lifted his head, you felt an unbearable heat rising in his fiery mouth.

"Fear not, my lady, it's all being dealt with." 

Although you thought your bones could break if he touched you, he cleaned the cuts and bruises so carefully you barely felt anything at all. Was it his magic? Was the water in this pond charmed? You didn't want to know.

The man wiped your face tenderly and took off your earrings colored in red, scoffing at the piece of metal in his large palm. Apparently, they didn't suit his taste - you saw little, but one glance at the treasures he kept hidden in his cave was enough to see the dragon had more precious metals and gems than the King himself. You expected dozens of servants and concubines to meet their rightful owner, too, but there was not a soul around you two. Did they hide? You hoped so. Otherwise it meant the rumors were true - the dragon simply ate all those sacrificial brides given to him. Even if he cared so genuinely about your wounds, maybe it was because he didn't like to see your bruised skin.

"Ah!" You squeezed your eyes shut. The man above you was covering your cuts with an odd ointment, its smell fresh and somewhat icy.

"We are almost done." He assured you and left an airy kiss on your knee. "You are so young, my love. You will heal fast."

You timidly bowed your head at his remark. How old was the dragon? It was too bold of you to ask him that, of course, so you simply kept your mouth shut.

"I am a century older than you." The golden-haired man said to your suprise, and your eyes widened at his words. "And no, I can't look inside your mind, my lady, but I am able to read your face. Please, do not be afraid."

You nodded, too frightened to speak. You remembered villagers running away in agonizing pain, screaming and pleading and cursing; the smell of the burning flesh and wood; the mighty flame devouring everything on its way. Those people had never been kind to you from the moment they seized you a month ago, but you still did not wish to see them dying such a horrible death.

"Do you feel better?" 

It took you a few moments to respond, and you shivered.

"Yes, Your... Your Highness."

You did not know how to adress someone as mighty as him, and the dragon laughed at your words, making you feel even more humiliated.

"You do not have to call me that, my love. I am Steve, Sarah's son." The dragon smiled at you and kissed your knuckles with his soft lips. You were confused and ashamed. This moment felt too intimate. "I mean no harm to you. Whatever people have said to you before, I did not bring you here to kill."

You stared at him in disbelief. What? Did his words mean the dragon did not want to eat you? Maybe you were supposed to become one of the concubines, then. In the end, if there were many of them hiding somewhere deep in the cave, it could be true. You had never wished to serve any man like that, yet it was still better than to be eaten alive.

"Steve, Sarah's son." You mumbled quietly, looking at your drenched nightgown with a sense of deep shame - the white fabric became completely see-through, and you tried to cover yourself with your hands. "T-thank you for..."

It was hard to speak as you trembled in his strong muscular arms, and the man smiled at you, caressing your head as if you were a child. Before you could finish your thought, he lifted you up in the air, caring little about your soaked clothes that got him wet right away. You shut your eyes again, afraid to see where he was taking you and trying to concentrate on your pain instead. Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as before - the ointment Steve used was magical, indeed.

Once you realized both of your were up in the air, you held on to him for dear life. You still couldn't understand how the dragon was able to transform only a part of him - his hands caressing you were still pretty much human. 

You didn't utter a single word before you landed on something soft and fluffy, your nightgown oddly dry on your skin. As you finally opened your eyes, you saw Steve's large figure hovering over you and whimpered, balling up on a huge bed high above the ground.

"It pains me to see you like this, sweetheart." The dragon's voice was unexpectedly tender. "But I know how terribly those filthy brutes treated you. You are afraid I will do the same..." He became quiet for a few moments, and you gulped, suddenly feeling guilty. "Please know I am here to protect you, my love, from any danger from within. No one will ever hurt you again. You're safe here."

Your eyes glimmed with tears at his kind words, and you sobbed, covering your face with a fluffy blanket you found on the bed. He wasn't going to hurt you, he said. He took care of your wounds and brought you somewhere nice, giving you a chance to rest after all the horrors you went through. You didn't know whether he was just toying with you, but for now you felt better, laying on a huge bed covered with blankets and furs. 

"I know you would like to have some time alone, but I can't leave you as of now." The dragon explained when he lowered himself on the bed. "You will heal better with me close. You can handle it, my lady, can't you?"

You wished his hot hand was not on your belly as you shivered from his touch, but you kept silent and nodded. Even if you did not want to be close to the man who could burn you to ashes within a minute, you had no right to protest. Maybe you would heal faster just as he said. 

"Sleep now, my love." Steve pressed his burning lips to your forehead. "It will get better tomorrow."

You said nothing as he pulled the blanket over you and moved closer. This intimacy with a man was foreign to you, but he did nothing other than holding you in his arms. He didn't want to hurt or use you. He only kept you safe just as he said before, you tried to assure yourself.

Thinking of his gigantic scaled wings of blue and gold colors, you quickly drifted off to sleep.

____________

The next morning you woke up to the divine smell of fresh fruits and honey, the dragon placing some peculiar dishes right on the bed around you. When you gaped at him, he let out a low chuckle and gave you a wet towel to wipe your sleepy face. He insisted that you ate right after waking up, claiming that your body needed strength - most of your wounds disappeared during the night. Apparently, it was all his magic.

"Try this, my lady." He easily sliced an odd red fruit with his razor sharp claw. "This one is special."

"Why?" You asked timidly, but took a piece and saw the white pulp with little black seeds inside it.

"It is called dragon fruit." He answered, proud. "It tastes like nothing else, believe me."

You smiled back at the man and took a little bite, feeling something sweet and sour on your tongue. He was right, you had never ever tried anything like that. Snatching more pieces of the fruit from Steve, you started eating them so fast he ended up laughing and rolling over the bed. 

Then he took you to the pond again and gave you your new clothes, a white nightgown embroidered with golden threads and a blue robe, soft as a cloud. Once you changed, Steve showed you around his cave, giving you an opportunity to look at his fabulous treasures - golden and silver coins, gems, jewellery, armour, statues, all those things you had never seen before. He said you could take anything you wanted except for a few magic tools that were unsafe to use. You felt like you were living in a fairytale. 

However, you became frightened again once the dragon told you he had neither servants nor concubines. When you asked what had happened to all those women who were sacrificied earlier, he simply said he took them to the other kingdom far, far away as he had no need for them. But over the seven seas, where women were treated better than here, no one could take them against their will, he claimed, and all of them agreed to leave to start a new life. Did a place like that truly exist?..

"Will you bring me there too?" You whispered, afraid of your own thoughts. 

You didn't like that look in his eyes. It didn't sit well with you.

"I do not think it is... wise, my love." His quiet voice alarmed you. "The women I brought over the seven seas were stronger than you... smarter than you. No one was as fragile, easily broken. Look what had happened when those peasants kidnapped you. You barely stayed alive."

"But..." Your eyes were glistening with tears again. "... You said women were not treated like posessions there... Why won't I be safe?"

"Nowhere is safe if you can't protect yourself even a little. I pray you stay mindful, my lady."

You had nothing to say, lowering your gaze to your bare feet and clutching the silk fabric of your elaborate nightgown. Although the dragon was right, it was hard to believe now he truly let all those women go. Were you that bad? That feeble he decided to leave you with him? It was unfair. You had the right to decide your own fate even if he considered you weak. 

You didn't say it, though. He could still burn or eat you alive if you protested against his decisions, you thought. When his claws scraped over your gentle skin, you bit down on your lip and nodded again. 

You were trapped.

"Until I get stronger, who am I here? What do I do?" You whispered, not meeting his gaze, and the man softly caressed the top of your head. "Am I a prisoner?"

"Of course not, my dear." He shook his head at your words and took your cold hands into his own, his skin so hot it was almost burning. "You are my precious sacrificial bride, my treasure. The only thing I demand from you is obeying me, love. Do what I tell you, and you will always be safe."

He wrapped his hands around your back and made you lean on him, pressing your head to his wide chest and kissing your temple. There was so much tenderness in his moves it almost made you cry. Why did it have to be like that?

"Can you make me stronger?" You moved your head to look at him and saw his bemused expression.

"Forgive me, my dear, but women like you are not made to overcome hardships of life." The dragon's fingers stroked your flushed cheek. "I cannot share my strength with you, I'm afraid. But I can protect you. It is enough, isn't it?"

You nodded once more, keeping your eyes shut and listening to him breathing slowly. You knew little of how possesive the dragons were once they spotted a treasure they wanted to keep for themselves.

[selfetishizing]

In which Eiji grossly overestimates the amount of mandarins he and Ash can eat. / 🍊 / ao3

Eiji comes home with a carton of mandarins and drops them at the entrance step with a dull thump.

“It was a good deal,” he tells Ash between breaths. “Ten kilograms for six thousand yen.” And then something about Mikan mandarins being nothing like those Floridian jokes for citrus and how the season for them is coming to a close. Ash never asked in the first place. It was as though he was defending himself from something before Ash could even open his mouth.

“Okay.” Ash kisses him on the cheek and helps him out of his coat, always in that order. Eiji stands on his toes, balancing himself with the cords of Ash’s sweater to aim another on his mouth. Ash leans down to help him, unconsciously souring his expression as he pulls back. “Have one on your way home?” He kisses him again for surety and, well, sure enough, his lips taste like they had been doused with Tang.

“A couple. Two couples.”

Ash whistles. “Dang. These oranges must be somethin’.”

"Mandarins, Ash. Mandarins. Not that I’d know the difference,” he sighs. “Oranges, mandarins... They're all kind of the same aren't they? Maybe it's about the size, the firmness, the peel. Maybe it's about the taste. All I know is that mandarins are like candy, and whatever this is,” Eiji pushes his chest out and wildly gesticulates to the accursed box before them, “is not it. These must be clementines from— oh, I don't know!— Pensa-fucking-cola!” He erupts all at once, shooting up like a thermometer on a dog day June afternoon and fizzling out like cola foam.

Eiji leans back against the door and Ash on the bannister. They stare at it, Eiji with utter disdain and Ash with morbid curiosity. Like a pack of Tic Tacs magnified by one hundred, he muses.

Ash crouches down to pick one of the mandarins up. Eiji moves in accordance, hand reaching out as if to stop him— that the fruit would poison him if he so much as hovered over it. Despite this silent warning, Ash grabs three and plays court jester for His Highness.

He juggles.

He juggles and he absolutely sucks at it while Eiji watches in complete horror; seeing the mandarins not as mandarins, but clipped grenades ready to blow the very hands that handled it. The color had gone from his face. He is but a pale sheet reflecting the warm hue of the ball pit that tormented him from below.

Eiji flashes him a mortified look. What the hell do you think you're doing?

Ash concentrates. Trying not to mess up.

Eiji frowns. This isn’t funny.

Ash almost cries. Yeah it is.

And he messes up.

The mandarins drop to the floor, sad little balls with not a lot of roll in them. Their eyes trace them as they huddle next to the box, like they had desperately wanted to go home and out of the reach of these two men that were belittling them.

Defeated, Eiji's back slides down the door. He holds his head in his hands.

“I miscalculated,” he says exasperatedly. “What are we going to do with all of these oranges?”

“Mandarins.”

“Mandarins.”

Ash sits level with him on the first step, eyes gleaming with warrior morale. He grabs the enemy and thrusts his fingers unto him, peeling them from their leathery armor. Ash— the fearless brute!— sections his enemy into eighths and tears into their head, innards spilling down his chin. In savage fashion, he wipes their juices with the back of his hand, going as far as offering their remains to Eiji. He grins. “We’re gonna eat ‘em.”

──────────⊹⊱🍊⊰⊹──────────

The sun slowly filters through bleary eyes and he sees a blob of Eiji watching him, head propped on both elbows. Ash hums as Eiji runs his hands through his hair, neither awake or asleep.

“An angel,” he murmurs, grasping his wrist and pulling him in. He presses his lips on the inside of his arm.

“Not quite.” Eiji climbs over him, heartbeats tethered. He smooches his jaw, laces their hands loosely. “Your worst nightmare, actually. A real devil with horns and a pitchfork.”

“Oh no.” Ash wraps an arm around Eiji’s waist, keeping them fixed together. He aims— bullseye!— for his lips, scrunching his nose when he tastes him on his tongue. “Oh no.” Mandarines today. Tangerines yesterday. Clementines the day before.

The wisps of Eiji’s hair tickle his skin as he laughs into his chest. “Told you so.”

“Sugar, you’re sour!”

“You really won’t like what’s for breakfast then.” Eiji rests his cheek against his shoulder, looking up from behind his lashes. Ash stares at him, the world in his eyes. It's enough to mask his disappointment.

“Again?”

“Yes, again. It was your idea."

“Can’t I have you for breakfast?”

“No, silly. That would be cannibalism.”

“But you’d be so delicious." Ash brings their held hands to his mouth, playfully biting one of Eiji’s fingers. Oranges. Of course it tastes like oranges. “Actually, on second thought....”

“Poor thing,” patronizes Eiji, patting his head like he’s the star player of a losing team. “You poor, poor thing.”

“You’re evil,” Ash whispers.

“I know, and you’re absolutely mad about me for it.” Eiji winks and untangles himself from Ash’s cling. He swipes his bangs up and pecks him on the forehead. “It’s waiting for you downstairs.”

“‘It?’ What is ‘it?'”

Eiji is already out the door, down the hall before he can answer.

Ash rolls himself up with linen wraps and lays lax in their unmade bed, ruler of this citrus peel mausoleum. He curses to himself, at the sun, at his sweet-turned-sourheart. He wishes it was the weekend. Then, he'd have an excuse to stay in bed all day and never leave their room. He'd be able to snack on all the Eiji he wants without burning the roof of his mouth with acid fruit.

──────────⊹⊱🍊⊰⊹──────────

The low table is dressed with white lace placemats and their finest floral china— courtesy of Missus Mom Okumura. A carafe is the centerpiece, replacing the vase of lilies Ash had bought Eiji when he went into town. Ash looks through the glass, Eiji’s head bobbing in the saffron pool.

“Come sit,” beckons Eiji, motioning to the cushion adjacent to him. His smile is distorted by pulp. Cautiously, Ash enters. He keeps it cool, keeps it blasé as he shuffles his feet inside with his knuckles tucked into the waistband of his brief, elbows pointed outward. There, his place is set with wooden chopsticks and their granite stopper. And lo and behold, the main course’s presentation is that of a rose, blooming from its peel. He should’ve known.

“You’re joking.”

Ash would've laughed had the situation not been so ridiculous.

“I wish I was.”

“How is it that we have an infinite arsenal of mandarins?”

“Not infinite. The box is almost empty.”

“It took us four days of constant snacking to get to this point.”

“And it will take us one more to finish it.”

Ash points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna stuff myself with another one of those. My shit is literally orange.”

“Put me in a sanatorium then.” Eiji slides the plate in his direction. “Breakfast is served.”

──────────⊹⊱🍊⊰⊹──────────

Ash always liked train rides in Japan, liked how silent it was, and the comforting voice of the announcer telling them they’d arrived at their destination. Living in the countryside meant sprawling fields for hours until they reached the city, a scene Ash never seemed to tire of. A cow would greet him for a second before they were replaced by some grandpa with muddied ankles, before he was replaced by a young girl on a Tiffany blue bell bike, before she was replaced with…

As he stares out the window, he can see Eiji, sitting across from him cross-legged, peeling another offending mandarin. Ash sighs, trying to immerse himself back into his one-man game of I Spy. Eiji wins his attention again— he always does— and so Ash settles on watching Eiji’s reflection behind him.

Eiji always starts at the middle and digs his thumbs into the peel, pulling its skin off as if he were undressing it. Erotic, Ash thinks fleetingly. He strips it sensually, letting it unfurl into a sproutling. Juice drips down his hand when he carelessly breaks into its flesh. Eiji licks up from his wrist, the heel of his palm and sucks on a finger. Naughty, naughty. Ash smiles into his sleeve, letting the thought float up in his head and burst into a million soap bubbles.

Finally, for once this week, his mouth waters, parched. Ash supposes this is what it means to be in love. Even the most mundane of tasks can look enticing if your other half is doing it. He’s sure he’ll be over the moon about this snapshot scene for the rest of the month. He’ll count the replays of Eiji in the train instead of sheep just before slumber, ensuring him tender dreams.

“It’s a lucky sweet one.” Telepathic. Eiji seems to know exactly what he wants.

Ash nods.

Eiji breaks it into fourths, a fourth into a half. Instead of giving him a section, Eiji rises from his seat to sit beside Ash; crosses his legs, leans in, opens his mouth to say “aaaah” as he feeds him. Ash devours, nips his nail.

“There’s people in this car,” Eiji whispers sharply, eyes darting left and right. A man is reading the paper— a huge parrotfish is its cover story. There’s a teenage boy in the back fiddling with his phone, neon lights of his game reflecting softly on his face. A woman Ash presumes worked the night shift is sound asleep.

“No one’s looking.” Ash wraps an arm around him and scooches closer. “Quickly.”

Eiji, Mister Goody-Two-Shoes, puffs his cheek and scans the area one more time, switching his gaze from Ash’s mischievous stare to his near-empty surroundings. He surrenders and angles his head up, eyes closed, waiting, aching. Ash captures him.

“You taste like Sunday morning,” Ash coos, supping the remnants of his juice-glossed lips.

“Ever the poet.” Eiji, blushing, concentrates on turning more quarters into halves. “We still have four of these left. Hopefully they taste just as sweet.”

Ash is sure they will be.

He wouldn’t mind eating mandarins for the rest of his life so long as Eiji is peeling them for him.

[jockvillagersonly]

oh sierra. oooohhhh sierra. this was a bad idea. you should never have given me this opportunity. my love language is physical touch and my (be)love(d) writer is YOU so i am legitimately about to go absolutely feral about this i may explode. UM IF IT PLEASES YOU GIVE ME A #22/#37 (either or) with pangzi and wu xie (platonic or romantic, you decide), and/or #31 with wu xie and li cu, and/or #45 with literally anyone i'll take anything i'm BEGGING?? i'm?? this is the greatest day of my life

Did you know that you’re STUPIDLY nice to me? And that I adore you dearly? Also shout out to @humanlighthouse who read this! I’m trying not to edit these at all, but I was worried this was completely incoherent 🙃

Here is the middle prompt: Wu Xie, Li Cu, and pinky swearing 🥰🥺 I decided to write this in the teen AU!

Also I’m going to be out of town for a week but might try to write the other two on the plane 🥰 thank you so much 🥺

> other prompt fic (also on AO3)

~*~*~*~

Wu Xie inched forward, reaching out a hand to fiddle with the lock on the gate as silently as possible. His finger caught on the latch, flipping it up with a startlingly loud creak, and Wu Xie winced. So much for the added stealth bonus he’d gained by swapping out his typical shoes for his rattiest, most soft-soled pair of Converse. He sighed, internally; one of these days he should really remember to bring oil out here with him.

He didn’t have time to go back now, though, so he merely pushed the gate open, achingly slowly, teeth worrying at his lip with each tiny creak. After what seemed like an eon, he finally had the gate ajar enough to just barely slip himself out. He let out a gusty breath in relief, turning back towards the Wu manor for one final check —

— and looked directly into the curious, wide eyes of his 6 year old neighbor. Wu Xie startled hard, jerking back and nearly falling through the unlocked gate, arms flailing slightly as he let out a sharp, high-pitched yelp.

(Wu Xie was pretty sure Pangzi would call the sound a “squeak,” but Pangzi had forfeited any and all teasing rights when he got grounded. It was his fault Wu Xie was even here, sneaking out, at all!)

It seemed his adventure might be doomed to end before it even started, though, if his unexpected visitor gave him away. As if completely oblivious to Wu Xie’s predicament, Li Cu merely cocked his head and took a particularly juicy bite of his orange. Pulp dribbled over his small, round chin, and Wu Xie felt his panic at being caught screech to a halt in favor of a sense of horrified wonder at just how grimy the little kid was making himself. How was it even possible that one piece of fruit could produce such a mess?!

Unfortunately, his distraction cost him heavily, because it gave Li Cu time to start talking. Wu Xie looked around frantically, praying no one was coming to investigate this out-of-place childish voice, syllables as gummy as the orange juice on his face: “Wu-gege, where are you going?”

“Oh, uh...just out for a walk!” Wu Xie leaned in hurriedly, beckoning Li Cu towards him and cupping a hand around his mouth to whisper, “But it’s a secret walk, so you can’t tell anyone! Can you do that for me, Xiao Li?”

Li Cu nodded, solemnly, his floppy bangs shifting with the movement. “Yes, Wu-gege.” Wu Xie relaxed, starting to smile, but then the kid was continuing, voice conspiratorial, each word revealing a mouth still full of unchewed orange: “For a price.”

Wu Xie reeled back, shocked. What kind of shows were the Li’s letting this kid watch?? Surely he was too young to turn to a life of extortion?

...Li Cu didn’t seem to be joking, though, as he solemnly stared at Wu Xie with that unnerving focus so specific to small children. Wu Xie sighed, stumped; he really didn’t have much to barter, but he was already behind schedule, every minute ticking by making it more and more likely someone would stumble across him sneaking out.

It seemed discretion truly was the better part of valor.

“I can … buy you an ice cream?” Wu Xie would already be dropping by the convenience store to pick up Pangzi’s favorite snacks. At the reminder of his best friend, Wu Xie checked his phone for the time — already half past, and 3 more texts from his best friend, each likely just as dramatic about his current state of house arrest as the rest.

He looked up, ready to seal the deal, but Li Cu was looking at him skeptically, holding up two chubby fingers.

Wu Xie huffed, smiling despite himself; the kid drove a hard bargain! He should take Li Cu with him the next time he went antique shopping. Everyone would be so taken by his cherubic cheeks and bright eyes that they wouldn’t even notice the kid thoroughly fleecing them. “Fine, sure, two ice creams it is.”

“You have to pinky promise, Wu-gege,” Li Cu held out his tiny, grubby hand with all the seriousness of a top CEO closing a merger.

Wu Xie sighed, mentally cursing Pangzi’s proclivity for trouble and resigning himself to picking up hand sanitizer at the store as well, before lacing his finger through Li Cu’s small, somewhat gloopy one: “2 ice creams, I pinky swear.”

It wasn’t until Wu Xie was out on the street, soles pounding on the pavement as he took off running, that it occurred to him to ask: why exactly was his neighbor in the Wu’s yard to begin with?

(Back at the Wu manor, a tiny body wriggled its way under the shrubs, popping its head up in the yard next door. Li Cu shook a twig out of his hair and grinned. He’d thought he would be in big trouble when he got caught watching Wu-gege, but instead he had managed to score himself not one but two ice creams! Li Cu was getting better at this exploring stuff.)

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you watch porn? No. Do you think Sarah Silverman is funny? No, not really. What about Larry the Cable Guy? No. Do you like sour candies? No. I don’t like the sour sensation, but also sour stuff irritates my mouth. Do you sneak candy into the movie theatre? I have.

Don't you think Uggs are hideous? Eh, they’re okay. Have you ever passed out from heat exhaustion? No, but I’ve definitely felt like I could. I don’t do well with the heat. Would you ever want to be a radio DJ? Nah, but fun fact I did host a radio show on my UC’s radio station with a couple other people from a class I was taking for one of our school assignments. It was pretty cool. What about a club DJ? No. Do you have a rack to keep all your cds on? I don’t have any CDs. Or do you have a booklet of cds? -- What kind of car do you drive, if you drive at all? I don’t drive. Is anyone pissed at you right now? Not that I know of. Have you ever been stuck in traffic for more than an hour? Ugh, yes.  What do you do when you see a fly in your house? Get the fly swatter. I can’t stand flies. Do you like orange juice with pulp or no pulp? I don’t like orange juice at all. Does taking pills make you gag? I have to crush my pills. Have you ever drank cough syrup for the hell of it? No. Have you ever started laughing hysterically during church? I have. Uh, no. Have you ever cursed during church? Noooo. Have you ever cursed outside of a church? I’ve never cursed at or near a church if that’s what you’re asking. When people play with your hair, does it make you tired? I did used to like that feeling and found it relaxing when I was a kid.  Do you even like your hair being played with? Not anymore, but it is an ASMR trigger of mine in videos. Do you post in the Bzoink forums? I've just started. Nope. What do you think of Yoko Ono? I don’t think anything. Do you use fabric softener in your laundry? Yes. Does your mum have any good Chinaware? Yes. Would you ever go to Mexico? I’ve been once. Does the sound of acoustic music relax you? Some do, sure. What do you think would be the most painful piercing to get? Any would be for me.  Does Paris Hilton get on your nerves? Nah. I hardly ever see or hear anything about her anymore anyway. Have you ever stayed at a Hilton hotel? Yes. Do you think Jessica Simpson is stupid? No. I think like Paris Hilton she played it up.  Do you think hotels are fun? I do, actually. I love staying at hotels. Have you ever seen the movie Turistas? Nope. I’ve never even heard of it. Would you ever have sex in a public place? No.

[hear-me-growl]

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter V

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx ||  ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪᴠ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠɪ ⟶

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: holy shit, this one’s is a big boy. This chapter has been a nightmare. I’ve been stuck on it for weeks. I had it planned and all, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. The tone was getting way too angsty, so I rewrote the whole thing multiple times. 😩 Hopefully you guys like the end result!

Next chapter will be the final one, I think? Depends on how carried away I get 😅 Is anyone else excited for these two idiots? Let me know!

“My head is killing me.”

“Lightweight.”

A streak of sunlight filtering through the curtains reminded you both that life went on outside your smelly apartment. You opened the window to let in some fresh air, which makes your friend shriek and hide under the blanket. Last night’s scraps —half eaten chips and pulp-less lemon wedges— came to life under the light. The leftover still life accentuated the taste of alcohol on your mouth and you walked to the kitchen in need of something to wash it off.

Best friend bonding nights ended up inevitably in hungover mornings. That is, using the term “morning” loosely. It was a routine you both had perfected. First you sneaked shots at work and went to your apartment after closing. Then you did even more shots, talking and laughing over whatever sappy movie you were pretending to watch. Last but not least, you both fell asleep on the couch Tetris-style.

At the sound of you waking up, your cat-shaped demon strutted proudly towards you. She tangled between your legs, making you trip to avoid stepping on her and hitting something in the process. With a curse, you rubbed your sore knee while trying to remember where you set her food last time. She was a genius glutton, so you had to change the hiding spot constantly. Otherwise she would get to it, no matter how high or locked it was. Impatient, the feline followed you around. Shortie joined her high pitched meows, complaining about the noise. As you exited the bathroom with her precious pebbles, the feline purred happily. You kept the light on for your best friend, who hurried inside to purge any leftover mistakes from her stomach.

The flush went on while you poured some juice for her. Wiping her chin, she joined you in the kitchen with a grimace. 

“I’m too small to drink that much. Never again.”

“You always say that and never keep your word.”

“Don’t expect it to be any different this time,” she downed the glass desperate to wash off the taste.

“At least you’re consistent,” you quipped.

Sitting on the counter, you pushed a plate towards her before chomping on your breakfast. While you hummed a song you couldn’t remember, Shortie eyed the butter as it melted on golden bread for a minute. An annoyed groan brought you back from your thoughts.

“Ughhh… I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke last night all over again.”

“Are you dissing my breakfast-making skills?” You turned to her, quirking a brow. Her eyes widened, and she shook her arms, making a fuss.

“No, no! It looks amazing, really, but my stomach is—”

“Chill,” you interrupted her with a satisfied grin. “I’m just messing with you.”

“I hate you,” she glared while you picked up her plate. No way you’d let it go to waste. “Glad to see you’re enjoying the new toaster.”

The incredulous look you gave her, as if she hit her head somewhere, made Shortie giggle. She could tell you appreciated her gift. Bribe. There was a blurry line between those terms.

“Not enjoying, loving. Bitch, have you seen it? It’s yellow and says ‘I loaf you’. I loaf you. This is the peak of my existence,” you raved between mouthfuls.

“Well, at least you got something out of dating a millionaire...”

“Don’t start with your Seokjin crusade,” you warned with a groan. What nice way to ruin breakfast. 

“What? I didn’t say anything yet?” 

Feigned innocence always looked good on her, all doe-eyed and pouty, brows sloping at the end. She took advantage of it whenever she could, but hungover you wasn’t having it.

“I mean it,” you hopped off the counter, rounding her to wash the dishes. “It’s too early for that shit.”

“It's past 12.”

“Exactly,” you grunted.

Just a few seconds passed, silence only disrupted by your scrubbing. Your friend nibbled her lip as she did when she mulled over something.

“Well, it’s not like those old ones you are used to, but I’m happy you like the thing,” she chirped, standing next to the toaster. “You should listen to me more often. I mean, look at it! Beautiful, elegant, funny and it definitely knows how to toast your bread.” 

Her hand slid across the shiny surface distractedly, but still scanned your reactions from the corner of her eye.

“Very subtle.”

Ever since she met Seokjin at the bar, he seemed fixed on the idea of you dating him. She managed to shift the conversation towards him one way or another. A skill as impressive as it was irritating.

“He came by the other day. Again. I forgot to tell you.”

“Thanks for the report, soldier, but you don’t need to notify me every time he shows up. I don’t care.”

“The best sex you’ve ever had crosses Seoul, sits alone and orders a single drink just for a chance of seeing you. It’s my moral obligation to let you know.”

“He might like the place,” you shrugged. 

Shortie closed the faucet to get your full attention. No need to take a look at her to know exactly the frown she wore —the one that made you feel like a child being scolded. In a weak attempt to avoid it, you left the kitchen. She followed you closely, not giving you a chance to escape.

“He likes you.”

“I’m flattered.” Unfazed, you slumped on the couch.

“We talked for a bit, you know? Poor guy wanted to know why are you avoiding him,” she continued as she sat beside you. 

“Poor guy? Not your finest word choice,” you snickered, triggering an exasperated eye roll.

“I don’t get you. You say you don’t give a damn, but you hide under the counter whenever he shows up. You won’t respond to his texts, but you read them all. You say he’s just another random hookup, but then admit it felt different —good different.”

“When did I say that?”

“Last night,” she chuckled implishly, reaching for an empty bottle on the floor and shaking it teasingly. “You always spill your guts with tequila.”

She kept her gaze fixed on you. Shifting a bit, you scratched your neck to relieve the uncomfortable itch of the conversation. Why did she have to press you on the matter? If he was so damn perfect, she should marry him. You’d even hold her up for the kiss to spare him the back pains.

“Your point is?”

“Stop being so stubborn and give him a chance. Not just for him, for you too. I know you don’t need it, but you deserve someone who takes good care of you. He’s into you and you’re into him, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m not—” 

“Nope, can’t fool me,” she grinned. “I see the way you look at your phone. Sorry to break it out to you, but he’s got you hooked.”

“Ok, now I know you’re still drunk. He’s the opposite of my type.”

“Your type is crap. Plus we both know that’s not the reason why you push him away.” She took a breath after rolling your eyes and occupied yourself with a loose thread on the blanket. “It’s been three years since your ex, I think you should give Jin a try.”

“Hey! We agreed not to talk about The Maggot.” 

A well-deserved nickname for that wormy bastard. Just a few months with him, you’d reached the lowest point in your life. He feasted on the lack of self-love you’d accumulated through the years and wrecked all the progress you’d made since leaving home. He seemed to grow bigger the more wounded and hurt you were, so he made sure you felt like shit. Thus: The Maggot.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she stuck her tongue out when your face puckered. “Give him a chance, not everyone is like that jerk.” 

“Since your weird obsession with Seokjin is clogging those cute ears, I’ll say it again: I don’t want a relationship. It always ends up being a mess, I end up a mess and I’m tired of it. I’d rather have fun, no strings attached,” you shrugged.

“Look, babe,” the sudden tenderness in her voice formed a knot that you forced down your throat. “I know better than anyone that you’ve been hurt before. I get it, it’s scary. There’s nothing wrong with hookups, if that is what makes you happy. Just don’t let all the assholes before Jin scare you out of love. It doesn’t suit you, you’ve always been the fierce one.”

The both of you stayed like that for a while. Shortie rubbed circles on your back, waiting patiently for you to sort things out on your own. She wanted to hug you, but you knew she wouldn't push you anymore and you appreciated her understanding. With a heavy sigh, you turned to her.

“Let’s just take another nap, I have work tonight.”

“Ok,” she complied with a bright smile that made you forget the mess in your head before pointing to the couch. “But, please, not on this spine-wrecker.”

Late. Again.

The red bulb shined mockingly, brighter as seconds passed. The erratic drum of your fingers on the wheel only unnerved you further, but they had a mind of their own. Tonight’s event was big and you’ve spent extra time pampering yourself to look your best. No one wants sushi on hairy legs. However, your cat decided that it was as good a day as any to battle the living room lamp, which hit the glass coffee table when defeated. To top your exasperation, she had the audacity to look upset at your scolding. Insolent punk.

You arrived at the location, a tall mirror reflecting Seoul back at you and checked the address once more. Top floor, naturally. What was with businesspeople and heights? Must be nice constantly looking at the world from above. You checked yourself in the lift’s mirror, to put any hair that got wild with the rush back in place. Tapping your foot, you glared at the numbers passing by on the screen. For a spaceship-like elevator, it was pretty damn slow. Just your luck, Tanaka was in the kitchen tonight. Whenever you worked with him, you found a new level of stress you didn’t know you could reach. Being the best sushi chef at the catering, he could make anyone lose their job just by saying the word. To add to your luck, he hated your guts. You became his least favourite model since that one time you might have showed up a bit tipsy. However you absolutely did not fall asleep as he claimed, just rested your sight —two minutes maximum. Guests didn’t even notice. Next thing you knew, he was yelling something about his art being disrespected by a westerner, berserk mode on. So he definitely wouldn’t take well you being late. You sighed heavily, hoping that at least the froth coming from his mouth didn’t spray in your direction.

Ding

Shit. Tanaka had to be furious, he never texted. Hell, he barely even talked to you. Reluctantly, you unlocked your phone, mentally prepared for a scolding. You breathed once you saw the screen —Kim freaking Seokjin and his timing. Numbers increased in slow motion as you considered answering. You really should ignore him, but there were fifteen floors left. Enough time for you to try to get through his thick skull that you wouldn’t go out with him again.

Doors opened suddenly and you jumped a bit. Moment of truth. Anyone else would’ve been scared of the pair of sharp eyes that greeted you —disintegrating every single cell in your body— but you were no coward. After an uncomfortable apology, you took off your clothes and laid on the table so he could begin his artistry. 

You found out that Tanaka was even scarier when he gave the silent treatment. As you felt him and his kitchen helpers place food and decorations on your skin, you simply stared at the ceiling. Soon enough your head filled with a bit of everything: shopping list, your dad’s iconic moustache, the lightbulb that needed changing… Eventually, your mind gravitated to Seokjin. It was a common occurrence these days, much to your distaste. Not only did he show up at the bar or texted randomly, he had to pop into your head too. He just made way through your mind, pushing aside everything else. As if you didn’t have anything better to think about. Even his abstract self could be an arrogant jerk.

Was it cruel to let him believe that you were out with someone else? Perhaps, but that was your last resort to keep him at bay. Most likely looking for round two, he’d been persistent —obnoxiously persistent. To be honest, you couldn’t blame him. On a scale of one to ten, your night together made the scale its bitch. After almost a month, you still found yourself spacing out thinking about it. A little guilty pleasure that you’d never admit out loud.

Of course you could always give in. You’d call, ask about his day and go somewhere nice just to end up in his bed again. You could’ve stayed that morning with him instead of running away. But you knew those deals already. Love always came with fine print. Jealous outbursts even when they were the cheater or nasty comments about the things you were proud of. Maybe they enjoyed making you feel small and worthless just so they could look better next to you, like The Maggot. Or perhaps they just wanted to fuck the dumb, foreign girl because “she’s a freak in bed”. The list went on. No one knew better —you’d been through all of them. Dangerous men, all wrapped with charming personalities and big smiles to distract from the trail of broken hearts behind them. Given how your face lit up whenever your screen did, Seokjin was one to be especially careful around. His unread texts meant trouble. 

Blocking his number would’ve been the smartest solution. Quick, like ripping off a bandaid. Still, there was a part of you that wanted to wait and see if he’d grow tired of chasing after you and go find an easier target. Not if, when. So far, he’d lasted longer than you expected.

A heavy sigh was your queue to sneak a glance at the chef, currently wrinkling his nose at work in front of him. He checked his watch before turning to his ever-tense kitchen helpers.

“Guests are arriving soon, so this will have to do. I can’t do miracles. We’re 15 minutes short on presentation time thanks to someone’s incompetence and we don’t have nearly enough greenery to cover all the imperfections.” The not-so-subtle side eye at you didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m not proud of tonight’s piece, team. We’ll have to compensate for it with an impeccable service.”

Hearing disappointment in their superior’s voice instantly glued eyes to the floor. You winced, knowing it was your fault.

“Well? Don’t just stand there, idiots! Move, move!” He ordered, making them all jump and scatter like scared mice.

With that, he turned around and zeroed in on you. Upper lip raised, the chef got closer until he was towering you. His imposing demeanor had you squaring up as much as you could without the food on you falling. Tanaka’s favourite activity was intimidating others. Enough dealing with bullies taught you that is best not to show them fear.

“I know I’m asking a monkey to do magic, but try not to ruin my night further or I’ll personally make sure that you never work again,” he spat before walking away.

Silent treatment was definitely better. That man’s tongue was sharp as his knives. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and let your muscles relax. It was going to be a long night.

“Everything looks spectacular, Mr. Choi. Wouldn’t expect less from a man like you.”

An hour in and no incidents so far. Tanaka had relaxed a bit. Not around you, of course. Whenever he came to check, you could feel his eyes slicing you up like hamachi. However, the other cooks and the service left the kitchen far less horrified.

Two men chatted by the table you laid on. Head filled with nothing you kept your eyes on the intricate ceiling with a blank expression. Usually you didn’t pay much attention to the conversations around you —too much business talk. However they sometimes served as distraction for the ache of laying still for hours.

Tonight’s host, Mr. Choi, an older man with a neat haircut and small hands, turned his head to you. “I chose the model specifically for you. I thought you’d feel more at home with a bit of western flavor to your food, Mr. Harper.”

“Everything is perfect, I’m grateful for your hospitality.” He took a piece of sashimi, his gaze lingering on you. “Is this a Korean tradition?”

“Japanese. I find nyotaimori an exquisite showcase of artistry, although it is an unusual practice. Forbidden in some countries, even.” The older man got closer to the other, as they inspected you.

“I envy you, Mr. Choi. Your eye for beauty is as sharp as the one for business.”

“It is, indeed,” he chuckled. “My old friend Mr. Kim told me you and I would get along. His son has a gift for reading people and he speaks highly of your company. I think you’ve met him already?”

“Yes, I have. I’ll admit I was discouraged when Mr. Kim sent his son to talk business instead of doing it himself. Five minutes with the boy, and I realised my mistake. He’s a bit younger than me, but he has experience and confidence way above his age.”

“Just like his father, that old devil. Look, there he is. Perfect timing, as always,” he turned with a beaming smile and gestured for someone to join the conversation. “Come here, son! We were talking about you just now.”

With an odd feeling in your gut, you bit the inside of your cheek. Not him. There’s a Kim every two Koreans, please, not him. From the corner of your eye, you catched a glimpse of the man approaching before averting your gaze.

The universe hated you.

“Only good things, I hope,” Seokjin bowed and the other two chuckled. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Mr. Harper here was telling how happy he is to do business with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come, son. I know you’re not a fan of these parties.”

“I couldn’t miss yours, Mr. Choi. Anyone in business knows: if you want to make the right connections, here’s the place.”

“Ah, always working. I’ll warn you, Mr. Harper, Seokjin here is a professional even after leaving the office. Since you two are close in age, I’m trusting you to make him loosen up a little,” he patted Seokjin’s broad back. “Come on, son. Get something to eat.”

There was a pause and the background noise quieted for a moment. Eyes fixed anywhere but him, you didn’t see his reaction once he realised you there. Would he wear the smirk he gave you when he saw you the first time in this exact position? Or would he arch his brow slightly like he did when something picked his interest but didn’t want it to show? Surprised at your own knowledge of Seokjin’s expressions, you didn’t realise him approaching until his voice rang much closer than before.

“With pleasure.”

His silhouette blocked the ceiling light, that shined like a halo around him. The eclipse-like effect would cover his reaction even if you dared to look. You felt your cheeks heat up and your toes curled nervously. He made no further comment, but you did notice his slow movements as he chose something with chopsticks. Despite your breath quickening, you didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling. 

The conversation with his peers flowed casually, all business deals and market values, though you couldn’t focus on it anymore. Not with his efforts to draw your attention back to him. Standing near your table, Seokjin picked up something from your body every now and then. Whenever you felt his presence closer, something stirred deep inside you. A mixture of arousal and mortification. What if he told them about your night together? They’d probably lose their appetite, knowing their sushi platter made a mess on someone’s sheets. If you still had a job by the end of the night, you’d lose it. Though you doubted he’d even admit he’d fucked you, it would ruin his image in front of his partners. How many men like him admitted all the secretaries and maids and other nobodies they got frisky with? In his world, big names didn’t look good next to small ones. At the same time, the memory of his mouth on your skin and the dark ink of his lovebites on your neck the day after messed with your ability to think straight.

Eventually, he excused himself and greeted someone else, brushing your ankle when he walked past. You tensed immediately. Looking in his direction for the first time, you caught the faint outline of a smirk as sauntered away. The greater the distance he put between you, the easier it was to relax. Shortly after, you realised he wouldn’t allow it.

Time passed lazily, minutes turning into decades built up the stress of the night. First the incident with the chef, to whom you’d surely have to suck up to later in hopes he forgave your lack of punctuality. And then Seokjin and his cruel way of keeping you on edge. Without a phone screen or the bar counter as barrier, ignoring him proved to be tougher than you’d thought. All throughout the night you heard his voice, sometimes closer than others but never enough for you to figure out exactly where it came from. He wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about him, that he could approach and tease you whenever he pleased. At some point you grew tired of the tension. 

Body perfectly still, you scanned the room until your eyes met. He kept talking to the expensive suit in front of him, but his gaze was undeniably locked on you. Mischief and playfulness poured out of his dark orbs and a little bit of something else. Maybe annoyance, maybe lust. It was usually hard to decipher his expressions, but even harder when he masked them for the other attendees. He seemed a different man, giving plastic smiles for his plastic friends —the tiny creases around his eyes nowhere to be seen. You missed them.

The little exchanges and glances grew bolder since that moment. For anyone else in the room, Seokjin behaved as the heir of one of the biggest companies in Korea should. For you, however, he’d lick his lips while devouring your body from afar or wink at you whenever he caught you staring back. To your surprise, no one seemed to take notice. 

No matter how hard you tried, avoiding his gaze proved to be pointless. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to his before you could register it. It only spurred him to be more daring and it kept you on edge, afraid of him doing something that could cost you a paycheck.

At the end of the night, the clink of glasses and the frivolous chatter thinned and tangled with the slur of goodbyes and the buzz of waiters cleaning up. Only a small group was left. They smoked big cigars and discussed politics, faces red with alcohol, while you discreetly stretched your neck and counted the minutes. Just when you thought the night was almost over, your body tensed once more when you heard a familiar voice. 

“I don’t think ‘mouthwatering’ does you justice, sweet cheeks.”

His words ringed too loud for your liking and your eyes bounced around the room. The smokers were too immersed in their secret competition for the biggest, rarest cigar and the workers seemed too eager to go home to pay attention. Seokjin sensed your apprehension and placed a hand next to your head, resting his weight on it so he would look straight down at you. You took a sharp breath when his thumb caressed your temple and you jerked away on instinct, the contact scolding your skin. His eyes briefly shot up to check if anyone had noticed the sudden movement, but landed immediately back on you.

“I like your dress, by the way,” he added. “It matches your imaginary date.” 

An ugly scowl settled on your face, but he chose to ignore it. Tilting his head, he trailed down your form as you warned him with a huff. When his gaze met yours again, it narrowed dangerously. Even if his face was serene, his eyes weren’t. All the colors around you stirred in his black pools, a mysterious kaleidoscope you had never seen on them before. Your tongue itched from the unspoken expletives as you glared up at him. Without a sound, you gracefully mouthed a “fuck off.”

“Don’t look at me like that, the sushi is going to turn sour,” he grinned. “Can’t resist getting naked for me, hm? Next time I’d appreciate a warning if you are gonna show up like this. Do you know how difficult it is to do business with you teasing me?”

Your brows shot up at his words. Only if you could tell him to get his egocentric ass out of his mouth.

“It’s cruel to take advantage of my weaknesses, sweet cheeks,” he tutted. “Not fair play.”

“I am working,” you reminded quietly through a clenched jaw, voice low and gritty with irritation.

“It hasn’t stopped you from ogling me like you want me to fuck you senseless in front of everyone.”

Once again, his carefree tone felt dangerous. Although the remaining guests' cackles overpowered his words, for you they still boomed too loud. So much, that your traitorous body rumbled at his suggestion despite the fear of being discovered. 

He caught the subtle way your teeth trapped your bottom lip before it tightened in a line. Not even your frown could hide your pupils expanding and he smiled wolfishly. You’d tried so hard to keep him at a distance, to act cold around him. The weeks after he woke to the lingering bittersweetness of your perfume he’d been wondering why. Right there and then, he got his answer. 

“You’re gonna get me fired. Leave.”

“Then tell me why are you avoiding me,” he asked, although he didn't need to.

“Get a pen, there’s a whole list of reasons,” your quiet retort made him chuckle darkly.

“Will you read them to me after work? If you’re good, you’ll get a spank for each one,” he winked. If anyone looked in your direction, you would be in trouble. He was too close and the flowers on you laid off their designated spots.

“Just lea— ”

The rasp of a throat clearing tore the air and your body became stone. Seokjin straightened his back calmly, not even bothered by the interruption, but your head whipped to the noise at lightning speed. You felt the petals on you fall on the table, followed by a piece of sushi.

“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Kim. But the nyotaimori exhibition is over. If you wish to eat something else, our buffet is still open.”

Tanaka snapped his fingers and two waiters picked your table and brought you into the kitchen. You didn’t miss the throbbing vein on his forehead when he bowed for the millionaire.

The pleasant bell of the elevator mimicked the end of a boxing match after a knock out. Utterly defeated, your feet dragged on the beautiful carpet that led you out of the building. 

Your head was pounding with the echoes of the chef’s harsh scolding. A few of your coworkers chatted by the entrance, but quieted down when they spotted you. No need to be a genius to know the nasty things they whispered as you walked past them. They’ve witnessed the scene just moments ago. Tanaka yelled and yelled while you just stood there, drenched in all his anger. Pathetic excuse of a model. That’s what he called you. From his point of view, you broke your obligations and tried to get a millionaire’s attention. Someone who, as he kindly reminded, would never mix with the likes of you for more than a fun night. His hurtful comments didn’t end there, but that part stuck with you the most. 

Cold hit your face as you exited the building, freezing any lingering thought and you breathed out to fill your lungs with that same peace. Once outside, where the usually frency of Seoul slept, you could store the night in the drawer of moments that you’d rather forget. 

“Hello, sweet cheeks.”

Any prospect of serenity on the quiet night air crashed with just three words. Him, always him. Whenever you allowed yourself to relax, he always appeared. Like a fly on a hot summer evening, sticking to your skin and buzzing until it drew you crazy. You walked past the spot where he leaned against the wall with a huff.

“How about I take you on an actual date tonight? I sneaked a bottle of wine.”

Nothing. Maybe it was childish to ignore him, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with him, not tonight, so you kept walking.

“Should I take that as a yes?”

The more he talked, the faster your irritation started to boil. Without sparing him a glance, you kept your pace. Seokjin jogged a bit to keep up and frowned himself as he noticed your scowl deepening. 

“Baby, it’s hard to maintain a conversation if you don’t help me out a bit.”

The burning tick of your brow marked the countdown before the explosion, you knew that. It bothered you how his long legs could easily match your quick pace. You fished the car keys out of your pocket, taking a turn to cross the street.

“You are angry with me,” he stated.

A scoff escaped your throat, as you smiled dryly. 

“To be angry I’d have to give two shits about you, which I don’t.”

“Ouch,” he grimaced at your clipped tone and let you put some distance between the two, considering your words. Aware that he walked on thin ice, he caught up once again with a smirk. At least he got you talking.

“You sure about that? You seem pretty angry to me.”

Exasperated, you stopped abruptly, fire burning in your eyes. It took him by surprise how serious your expression became. Maybe he’d overstepped in his attempts to lift up your mood, maybe he’d really fucked up.

“What the hell are you doing here, Seokjin?”

“Just wanted to check if everything is fine with your boss,” he was cautious, approaching you as if he wanted to pet a lion.

“No, it’s not fucking fine,” you snapped with an accusatory finger to his chest. “I almost got fired.”

“I’m sorry, sweet cheeks, I shouldn’t have messed around while you were working. I didn’t consider the consequences.”

“Of course you didn’t. Losing your job is not something that ever scares you, hm? The little prince has his life sorted out already. Must be nice.” 

Voice loaded with sourness, you held his gaze. Apart from his lips tightening in a thin line, Seokjin kept his usual unreadable self. He didn’t even have the decency to look intimidated by your anger. Blood pulsed in your temples like migraine. God, he was so infuriating. 

“By the way, don’t you ever call anyone to clean up my shit again. I don’t need it. I can deal with my own problems.”

When Tanaka had been done yelling and calling you names, he contacted the higher ups. Neither of you expected the woman on the other side of the line brushing the chef’s complaints off so easily —the guest had cleared up the situation already. She hung up with a grin in her voice after praising your ability to “befriend” such a powerful man, and you were left dumbfounded. Since that  job covered most of your bills, it was a relief to keep it. That aside, you were fuming. One phone call, that’s all it took for him to make the problem disappear. Was life really so easy for him? Was he so dense to think his last name would solve anything? He surely didn’t give a shit about putting you in that situation in the first place, or your coworkers thinking of you as a slut. Above everything else, it pissed you off that he thought you needed to be saved, like it was his charity act of the month. 

“My behaviour tonight was unacceptable and you shouldn’t be the one to pay for it. Now I see I overstepped, so I apologise for that too,” he said after a pause. His eyes softened and you noticed his shoulders drooping slightly. “It’s just—  You do things to me, sweet cheeks, you don’t even realise. I can’t think straight around you. Not that that’s an excuse, but it’s the truth. I really am sorry, I didn’t want to cause you trouble.”

“Oh, thanks! That fixes everything. Glad that you got that out of your chest, wouldn’t want to make you feel guilty about it,” you sneered.  

Seokjin followed like a watchdog as you resumed your walk, taking big steps in a futile attempt to leave the man behind. Not only him, but the inconvenient flutter in your stomach too. Mulling over his words, you chewed the inside of your cheek. You do things to me, sweet cheeks. So casual about it, he could’ve been chatting about the weather with a neighbour.

“Let me take you home, at least, to make sure you are safe,” he offered, taking your wrist to stop you.

“No,” you jerked away, his touch blistering your skin. “Don’t take me home, don’t call me, don’t text me.”

“I can’t help it. I like you, sweet cheeks. A lot. One night is not enough, I want more than that.”

You felt it, the skip in your heartbeat. Deep within you, it faltered. Scared, wounded, hopeful. Occasional sex was your usual go-to for a good reason. That’s why you only got involved with the “not-the-boyfriend-type” kind of men, to avoid those kinds of messy, unnecessary feelings. You didn’t need anyone to take away your individuality or change your life —you liked freedom. However, your issues with love ran deeper than that. 

Admittedly, you were scared of letting anyone in. You’d been hurt and mocked many times, leashed and scolded enough to be reduced to a shell devoid of any worth. But you learned, hit after hit, and grew protective thorns everytime it happened. Yet, the sly bastard had managed to sneak behind your defenses. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get a hold of yourself.

“Well, it is for me. I’m sorry, but I don’t do the whole boyfriend thing anymore.”

“Tell me you don't like me back.” “Have I not been clear enough? I think I’ve showed you many times that I’m not interested.”

“You kissed me,” he countered, stopping you in your tracks. “The morning you left.”

You faced him after a deep breath, exhausted from his insistence. “That’s playing dirty. You were supposed to be sleeping.” 

“Why did you? If you wanted a one time thing, you would’ve just left. But you kissed me goodbye,” he pressed. “Not to be nice or polite or because you thought you had to —I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. And yet, you decided to kiss me. Why?”

“Goddamn, rich boy. It was just  a kiss, don’t read too much into it.”

“Fine,” he said, his tone stern with a hint of a snarl. “If you won’t, I’ll say it for you. You felt something that night and you feel it still, I can tell.”

“Let me get one thing straight: just because we fucked doesn’t mean you know me. Stop trying to decide what I do or do not feel. You can’t just magically appear in people's lives and expect to be the center of their existence. It’s so goddamn irritating, you are everywhere. If I’m at Dionysus, I get tense whenever that fucking door opens in case it’s you. Everytime I look at my phone there’s a stupid text, or worse, there’s nothing it messes my head up. Even my best friend won’t shut up about you! It’s like a horror movie, I swear. Just leave me alone, I don’t want whatever this shit is. It’s driving me insane.”

“This,” you gestured between the two after a heavy sigh, “was a one time thing, fun, nice sex. End of story.”

“Just nice?” Devilish smile already blooming, he stalked closer. “After all the screaming I was  expecting good, at least. I’ll work harder next time, I’m aiming for A+.”

The moment he was close enough for you to have to crane your neck up, your burning gaze mixed with his. His cologne hit your senses and you remembered how it stuck to your tongue when you kissed his body, sweat and lust making the scent borderline intoxicating. It fuelled your resolve to turn him down before his voice trapped you under his spell —saccharine and enticing, like a siren.

“There’s no next time, so go try to get someone else fired,” you tried to cover the lack of steadiness in your words with a dismissive gesture. 

“Oh, there will be, don’t you worry,” he chuckled before holding your glare with firm determination. “That pretty mouth might say one thing, but your body tells me otherwise. I know you can’t resist me, just like I can’t resist you. At some point you’re going to admit it and let me kiss you and fuck you how you want me to.”

He didn’t lean forward to level your eyes, didn’t let his hand wander on your body —he didn’t need to. Standing there, centimetres away from you, Seokjin knew he had a bigger effect on you than you anticipated. However, your pride took over. The right to decide your feelings wasn’t his and you were determined to show him.

“I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you.”

“Why not? I love winning.”

His cheshire grin set something ablaze in your gut. Unsure if it was irritation or something else, you took a step back. He looked stunning, his sharp suit accentuating those wide shoulders and dark locks neatly brushed back. But what really took you breath away was the glint in his eyes. Dangerous and playful at the same time, in complete dissonance with his impassive pose. 

“Good night, Mr. Kim.”

This time, only his eyes followed as the streets of Seoul swallowed the sweet enigma that was you.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ, ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ © hear-me-growl, August 2020

[highqueenofelfhame]

haunted, one.

It was just after eight in the morning on the twenty-fourth of April that I found myself alone in the healer’s quarters. It marked my first solo day as a healer, seeing as the twins had taken the morning off after a late night of work. In truth, I was excited for the independence I had been granted - it showed that they had faith in me as a healer. Mornings were usually the most quiet, people mostly sending for headache tonics or contraceptives — nothing that I shouldn’t be able to handle on my own. 

And then the chief advisor to the Crown Prince stumbled into the healing room. The Prince himself was half slumped and leaning heavily on the older man with sweat falling from his face like rain from clouds. I jumped to my feet from where I sat, the thundering of my heart like that of a thousand horses racing through the castle, hooves shattering the stone into spiderwebs that threatened to bring the whole palace down. Something was horribly wrong. I dropped into a quick curtsy anyway. 

“The twins? Where are the twins?” Delalieu asked, the strain in his voice made obvious by the slight tremor shaking his words. I blanched and the blood ran from my head only to pool in my toes like liquid metal, completely rooting me to the ground where I stood. 

“It’s just me this morning, I — they had a late night.” It seemed to dawn on both of us at the same time that I was the only option, the only hope. Sweat began to gather at my hairline, slipping down my temples in rivers and streams and rainstorms. I wiped my sweaty palms on my apron in an attempt to soothe my quaking hands, rushing to where the prince had collapsed on the bed face down. The shirt that was bone white from the front was blood red on the back. Had I taken it and twisted, I would have been able to make puddles on the floor. 

I began rushing, moving as fast as the beat of my heart and started by cutting his shirt straight up the center and carefully peeling it away from wounds. Slash after slash after slash marked his back, fresh wounds over old scars that left the prince’s back entirely mangled. Some of the marks slipped over onto his sides, rose up onto the rounded nature of his shoulders. It didn’t take much inspection for me to know what had happened. Prince Warner had been whipped: his back so ravaged by leather that his skin had ripped open and wept blood. 

I immediately grabbed the cart for lacerations and wheeled it to Warner’s bedside, pulling out a numbing serum and injecting it in several places to ease the pain, apologizing over and over for every little prick of the needle despite knowing it was the least of his worries. After a brief moment, his muscles relaxed and he let out a deep sigh as he turned to look at me. Red bloomed across my cheeks like roses in spring, his green eyes glassy and bloodshot while he watched my face. Beautiful. Prince Warner was breathtaking and inhumanly beautiful and I didn’t know how such a person could be real, how someone that looked like that could exist, that someone with such a perfectly smooth face could have a back made of maps of rivers and streams and lakes of blood. 

With the prince on my table I was in no rush taking my time and being gentle. I  glanced at the prince every so often to ensure that nothing I was doing was causing pain and every time his eyes were on me and every time my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. My nerves flickered like flame in the wind beneath my skin but somehow I managed to ease the shaking of my hands. I couldn’t relax my shoulders that were being pulled too taut or my jaw that was wired shut by the anxiety of the prince bloody and broken on the bed or the fact that he looked nowhere else but my scarlet face. 

It wasn’t just the prince staring that had me unhinged. It was that someone had done this to him, someone had willingly whipped the nineteen year old boy that lay before me. Someone had beat him until his back resembled the pulp of a blood orange, his blood dripping dripping dripping onto the too-white sheets in stains that would never come out. It wouldn’t be something that I would be able to forget, it was burned and branded into my mind with red hot iron.

“What’s your name, love?” When he spoke I nearly jolted and dropped another blood soaked rag to the floor, shifting my eyes in his direction and bowing my head before speaking.

“Juliette, Your Highness,” I replied, cursing the way my voice quivered. Everyone knew how awful the prince was - it was the biggest reason that my anxiety constricted my chest so horribly, so tightly until I was taking the shortest breaths to keep my body oxygenated. Stories of Warner were whispered among staff like legends passed down through generations. Warner as a skilled soldier in war, Warner who never smiled or spoke to anyone. When he did speak to them, it was typically to bark out an order. I had only seen him around the palace once during my training, and it felt odd and foreign to see him so relaxed as he was now. But that was just the tonic at work because this boy was nothing like the man of reputation that so greatly proceeds him. 

“Juliette,” he breathed, turning my name over on his tongue like fine wine. He said my name so softly, the way you might whisper to a lover whilst sharing a pillow before bed. The way he said it made it difficult to believe the stories, but I couldn’t exactly ignore them either. 

Prince Warner was capable of -- and had done -- so many horrible, unspeakable things. These weren’t things that I could turn a blind eye to. It didn’t matter that he said my name like he might caress a lover. It didn’t matter that he was handsome, perfectly gorgeous in such a way that it didn’t feel right for a person to look like that. But pretty men with devastating faces were just that: devastating. 

~*~

It took a handful of hours to get all the wounds clean and properly bandaged. When the twins came in mid-morning and insisted on taking over in the midst of the apologies, the prince had refused and said he wanted no one but me to tend to his injuries. As I finally finished doctoring the wounds, Delalieu helped me get Warner into a sitting position. He seemed to hate needing the help, his lips tugging down in a smile and his brows knitting together, but he was still and patient while I wrapped his torso with bandages. Delalieu helped him into a clean white shirt that he’d retrieved sometime while I worked and I watched carefully was the prince pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled. 

“You really should stay here to rest,” I advised all too casually, so I slapped on, “Your Highness.” Warner’s lips twitched at the corners like he wanted to smile while his fingers buttoned up his shirt. It was an effort not to stare at his body that had been carved from marble. He was unfortunately perfect. 

“I can’t do that, I'm afraid. I thank you for your assistance, Juliette. I’ll send for you when my bandages need changing.” Warner bowed his head before looking me in the eye again. God, they were so green, but a clear crystal kind of green. The green that matched the jade ring he wore on his pinky finger. “Could I get a pain tonic before I leave?” I merely nodded in response, turning to go to the cabinets where we kept the tonics but Sara was already there behind me, a clear bottle with a clear liquid in her hand. I thanked her and offered it to Warner, suppressing a shudder when his fingers brushed mine - and then he was off, downing the contents of the bottle while Delalieu spoke to him in hushed tones as they left the room. 

~*~

“What’s bothering you?” Adam whispers against my palm, a growing frown on the lips that he presses against my skin. It takes me a moment to pull my focus from the pattern of my dress and to his eyes. Eyes that threaten to swallow me up in dark waters every time I look into them. 

“I met Prince Warner today,” I finally admit, squishing the blueberry I hold between two fingers until the juice is running down my fingers. My lips are turned down as I wipe them on the skirts of my dress, anything to keep from looking at Adam. The more I look at him, the more I want to be honest and tell him what I know. But I also know that I can’t tell anyone about the Prince, why he was on my table, or why I would be sneaking to his chambers in a few hours time to doctor his back once again. 

“What did he do to you?” Adam demanded, sitting up straight. We had been lounging against a large oak tree in the courtyard for a rare evening snack. My toes were buried in soft grass that Adam insisted on ripping from the earth to give his hands something to do. Adam was a soldier in the royal guard, always standing outside the gates to the palace or assisting the prince on trips out of town. 

“What do you mean what did he do to me? He needed a cut bandaged. He was perfectly nice.” I didn’t know why I was defending him. Maybe because he had seemed to helpless and nothing like the ruthless ass that he was rumored to be. But Adam had witnessed his cruelty first hand, had seen him force swords through men’s hearts. 

I’d seen a broken man in the hospital wing. 

Maybe it wasn’t as easy to take the punishments that he doled out. It’s fleeting thought, and one that I regretted instantly. I want to heal people - I don’t want them to hurt. Nobody deserves to be whipped like an animal. 

I am pulled from my reverie by shouting across the courtyard and am instantly on my feet and moving in their direction. One of the twins, I can’t tell which from the distance, is running toward me with her skirts in her hands. I hear more than see Adam jogging next to me, but as soon as Sara whispers that it’s the prince in my ear I’m bolting back toward the hospital wing. 

I can’t be bothered to give any sort of farewell to Adam, my only thought is the memory of the ravaged back I had worked so tediously to mend this morning and the way that Warner had swayed on his feet as he stood. 

“What’s happened? Where is - ” I am breathless with a heaving chest by the time I all but slide into the healing room. Gasping for air, I rest a hand on the stitch at my side that my lungs may have fallen out of somewhere down the hall. To my surprise, Prince Warner is leaning against the table he had bloodied this morning with crystal eyes skimming over a handmade journal of parchment that’s so crumpled I already know what it says. A quick dig through my pockets confirms it.

“I’m flattered that you’re so concerned with my safety, love, but you didn’t have to run.” A smile is tugging at his lips and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. 

Maybe he was every bit the bastard they all said he was, after all. 

please reblog this as i’m unsure who wants to be tagged in warnette. 

[travelingbytastebuds]

JORDAN WHERE: Bawadi Mediterranean Grill (6304 Leesburg Pike, Falls Church, VA 22044) (now with Turkish traveling companion Yusef! And a chef's daughter from Jordan! So much love!) Now that I'm getting to some of the smaller countries, I've started a new method of my madness wherein I parse through some menus online of miscellaneous Asian/Mediterranean/African to find restaurants that have at least one item from the country I'm searching for-- this miscellaneous Mediterranean grill for instance had Mansaf from Jordan, but when I tried to go there for a late lunch today I found that the problem with this new game plan is that some items are not offered all the time. After some asking around, I found that Mansaf is only on the dinner menu. I told them I would come back for dinner, but the manager suggested I try their lunch buffet because he assured me it was good. I still decided to come back for dinner. It was a good thing I did-- when I returned for dinner, the restaurant manager was waiting for me and he asked if I still wanted the Mansaf. I said yes, so he told the waiter who was serving me to get me the best piece. I didn't even have to look at a menu. I think he even did that side clap and I kind of felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Um, okay, wow! The place itself was really beautiful. Incredibly authentic. I have never seen so many hijabis in my life. Everyone was so polite, very happy-- the girl next to me was also eating alone. So she introduced herself and joked about me really being interested in the Mansaf. I explained a bit about my project and that I wanted to eat some traditional Jordan food. She said it was a very interesting project and then asked what I knew about the country of Jordan. "Not much." I said sheepishly, "I'm going to have to start learning." "I'm the daughter of the chef. We're from Jordan, that's why I asked." And suddenly I realized that my new gameplan for smaller countries was working AMAZINGLY. So I started asking her all about Jordan. Then I did some learning on my own when her break was over and she had to get back to working. She was really sweet and motivated me to get my learning on post haste. I found out that Jordan is a very peaceful and loving country, which seemed perfect for the grand finale on Valentine's Day. It's one of the only countries in the Middle East that is pretty peaceful and one of only two countries that has made peace with Israel. It's also where Petra is located, the historical and archaeological city. And it's biggest claim to fame is that it was featured in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. “Aren't you going to eat something?” A guy next to me who was also sitting alone asked and caused me to pause my research. He was really cute and gestured to the buffet. I guess he was wondering why I hadn't gotten a buffet plate. I told him I was there for one of the special dinner items that wasn't on the buffet. I ended up explaining a bit about my project when he asked. He was really fascinated and asked how far along I was on my travels. I showed him the app with the map and the colored-in countries. Then we started talking about how he was from Turkey himself and he suggested some good restaurants that served Middle Eastern food. And before I knew it we ended up in a two hour long conversation-- about food and traveling, families, blogging, different languages, the fact that THREE different people tripped or broke dishes within the course of our time there (heh, there was like a curse) and how we were both eating alone on Valentine's Day. He asked me to email him my Master List of restaurants and asked if I would like someone to go food adventuring with in the future. So.. basically met a cute Turkish guy at a Middle Eastern restaurant while eating alone on Valentine's Day just because we were seated next to each other. Totally blew the past few Valentine's Days away. It was a perfect ending to my day, what a perfect grand finale! The restaurant's food was AMAZING as well! Mansaf ended up being “lamb cooked in jameed/yogurt soup served on top of rice and shrak bread with jameed/yogurt soup on the side” (though at the time I was confused about the soup.. I thought it was like dipping butter). After Yemen, Saudi Arabia and Jordan food all ending up on the top of my favorites list, I think Middle Eastern food in general might be my favorite cuisine I wouldn't have tried without this project. Top marks all around! The things Jordan does with lamb and yogurt... just wow. I love lamb, I really need to eat more lamb. So soft and sweet. The mango juice on the side was good too, a bit more pulp-y than an Indian mango lassi. I'll be very pleased when I get to go back to Bawadi for the Palestinian meal they offer if it's anything as good as their mansaf. :) ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ JORDAN REDUX Holiday Yum Yum Box has arrived! It's their annual holiday box with a bunch of assorted countries and snacks based on the holiday traditions from those countries. Gingerbread from Poland, raspberry chips from Spain (they eat raspberries if they want love in the new year on New Year's Eve apparently), Baklava from Jordan for Ramadan (which is sometimes in winter but not this year), ect... Perfect for hibernating, drinking wine and watching bad Hallmark movies, which is all I've been doing this week (other than working).

[mendesmelancholy]

Iris [Part Two] - A Shawn Mendes Fic

Part One // Part Three Synopsis: Part two of Shawn meeting an interesting girl after one of his shows. Warnings: alcohol, swearing, mentions of sex, suggestive language Word Count: 4k Author’s Note: Part two of “Interesting”! I changed the title to Iris because I didn’t like the original one. Let me know if you’d like a part three! I’d love to do one. Taglist: @shawnsunflower @shwnmndsx @tnhmblive @someoneunimportantxx @justordinaryjen @versacebutera @xmtd5 @chubsluda @hehemendes @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson @lovingchildperson 

     “Who says I was trying to seduce you, honey?” He teases, picking up the small banter they had started. She quirks her eyebrow at him, realising he’s starting to play her game right back. And part of her wants to drop her act and beg him to take her the way she wants, but she’s not easy. She’s a challenge. And she embraces that.

     “Well, if you’re not…” she trails off, beginning to peel herself from Shawn’s grip, but his grasp on her waist tightens, pulling her back to him in a millisecond. Her own cheeks split into a grin, winning this round of her game. Shawn sighs deeply, pressing his forehead to her before looking her dead in the eye and whispering,

     “Alright, sweetheart, I’ve been sweet, but if that’s the game you wanna play, I’ll seduce you.”

     “You’re more than welcome to.”

     A glimmer sparks behind Shawn’s eyes and sets her soul ablaze in a way no man has ever managed to. A simple look has her resolve crumbling and she’s no longer sure if she wants to play her little game. His brown eyes are focused solely on her own and she gulps. Shawn notices the bobbing of her throat and grins to himself slightly, ducking his head to be even closer to her, their lips slightly blushing. The sight of Shawn’s grin makes Iris return to her original plan… to tease the living hell out of this man. She perks up slightly, pushing her chest even farther into Shawn’s torso.

     “Can I kiss you?” He asks, glancing down at her lips that has one tucked between her two front teeth.

     “Yeah… no,” she slurs, pulling back and twirling around. She’s drunk at this point, but the confidence surging through her veins keeps her upright and unwavering as she finds her way to the bar to buy herself another drink. She doesn’t even need to look behind her to know that Shawn is looking at her in complete shock. And he is. He can hear her friends giggling slightly before Alexandra approaches him,

     “She wants you to chase her.”

     “Fuck me,” he groans, running his hand through his hair and following her through the crowd of people. When he finds her again, she’s leaning against the bar, successfully catching the attention of the bartender. He’s clearly hitting on her and Shawn examines him quickly. He’s buff, tall and blonde with short hair and glasses. He feels a little twitch in his mouth as jealousy puddles in his stomach and the blood rushes out of his jeans. Shawn squares his shoulders and approaches Iris at the bar, confidently sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her tightly to him. He doesn’t look down at her as he orders their drinks,

     “Two shots of tequila, a Screwdriver and Henny and coke,” Shawn orders. The blonde bartender adjusts his posture and grunts, going to fix their drinks. Shawn’s lips pull into a smirk, seeing Iris looking up at him from the corner of her eyes. Her lush lips that he had just brushed were pursed to the side of her mouth, her chocolate eyes not quite glaring at Shawn but not looking thrilled either and she moves to put a hand on Shawn’s chest. This forces him to look at her and he quirks an eyebrow,

     “Pissing on your territory, Mendes?” She asks, clearly not happy with the way Shawn became possessive, “One thing you must know about me if you actually want to see me again,” she says in a challenging tone, “is that I’m not anyone’s property. I don’t do territory or jealousy.”

     “Feisty…” Shawn laughs to himself, nodding to the bartender who’s returned with their drinks. Iris goes to pay for her drink, but Shawn beats her to it, “Just add it to my tab.”

     He then turns his attention to her and he nods, “Understood.”

     “Good,” she smiles, “Now, do this shot with me.”

     “Can’t disobey the princess,” Shawn teases, picking up his shot glass and not missing the shiver that crawls up her skin at the nickname, “But, how about we make this more fun?”

     “And how could we do that?”

     “Get your friends over here and I’ll show you. You might want a crowd for this.”

     Iris furrows her brows, but obliges. Shawn watches as she walks away, noting the sway in her hips underneath the black silk of her dress. He groans to himself, feeling the blood rush back to his groin. He bites down at his lower lip, switching his shot glass for his whiskey and coke. He takes a long sip from it, ignoring the dirty taste of the whiskey and focusing on the sweetness of the coke. He thinks he should’ve gotten rum instead, but he doesn’t have time to reorder by the time Iris returns with her friends in tow. Even though they’ve been gone for a few minutes, the group appears to be significantly drunker. Shawn then wonders if it’s him who’s significantly drunker.

     “Alright, how are we making this interesting, Mendes?” She challenges, jutting her hip out.

     “Body shots.”

     Iris’s eyebrows raise to her forehead, jutting her chin out slightly as if she didn’t hear him, “Are you serious?”

     “As a heart attack.”

     “‘No offense, Scully,’” Alexandra butts in and Iris lets out an adorable snort at her friend’s addition. She wraps an arm around Alexandra,

     “You wanna do body shots, bub?”

     “Fuck yeah,” she cheers and it’s Shawn’s turn to raise his eyebrows,

     “Only way I’m doing body shots is if Iris does them off of me and I do them off of her.”

     “Calm down, Alpha. Alexandra is gonna do them off me and I’ll do them off her and I’ll get to you after.”

     Shawn contemplates this, but already knows his answer. As long as he gets Iris’s tongue on his skin, he doesn’t care if she also does them off her girl friend. Hell, she could kiss and make out with the girl for all he cares, but he needs her afterwards. All to himself, “Fine.”

     “More shots please!” Iris shouts at the passing bartender with a wicked smile on her face. The bartender rolls his eyes, clearly bitter about his flirting being cut short, but obliges. The group of friends make a circle around Shawn, Alexandra and Iris, waiting, phones ready, to film Iris doing body shots off The Shawn Mendes. But at this point, Iris doesn’t even see him as the man she just watched perform. He’s Shawn, who’s allergic to animals but pets them anyway and is absolutely stunning. He doesn’t carry himself like he’s famous. He’s just Shawn. 

     When the bartender returns with the shots, Shawn gives him a nod and the bartender lingers to see the two girls do body shots off each other. Alexandra jokingly pushes Iris’s shoulders so she’s seated in one of the few barstools around the countertop. Shawn hands Alexandra the salt shaker, where Alexandra pours salt in her left clavicle. She then feeds Iris the rind of the lime wedge, so the pulp is facing the girl about to do the body shot. Shawn nudges the shot glass to right next to Iris for easy access.      He watches intently as Iris makes eye contact with him, tilting her head back, exposing more of her collarbones and throat to Shawn and Alexandra. She doesn’t even flinch as her best friend licks through the salt line on her skin, grabbing the shot and downing it, before leaning forward and snatching the lime wedge out of her mouth with her own. Their lips don’t brush, but Shawn’s heart pounds at the sight. He curses himself inside for getting turned on at the sight of two best friends acting sexually towards one another, but he can’t help the tightening in his jeans. His eyes don’t leave Iris’s as he observes the way her eyes have become glossy and her pupils even larger from the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

     “My turn,” Alexandra slurs. Iris breaks eye contact before standing up on wobbly legs and letting Alexandra take her place.

     “You know what would be fun?” Alexandra mumbles, clearly a lot more intoxicated than Iris.

     “Hmmm?” Iris hums.

     “If you put the salt on my nose and forehead.”

     “You have makeup on.”

     “Oh. Right,” Alexandra leans her head back like Iris did. Shawn doesn’t even watch her as his eyes follow Iris. She does what Alexandra had done with the lime and salt. She holds her shot in her hand as she flicks a look to Shawn. Iris winks at him and bends her head down, slowly running her tongue along the salt in her clavicle, allowing her tastebuds to collect absolutely every granule of salt left on her skin. She wordlessly takes the tequila shot, glancing over to Shawn as she takes the lime wedge from Alexandra’s mouth, lingering slightly. When she straightens her back, she removes the fruit from her mouth and Shawn can’t help but notice the little trickle of juice out of the corner of her mouth. He steps closer to her without thinking and presses his thumb to the stream. He runs his thumb along it before bringing it to his own mouth and sucking it off. She’s watching with intrigue before a devilish grin appears along her lips,

     “You want to go next?”

     “Yes, I do,” he replies, nudging her towards the seat. When Alexandra giggles and stands up, curling into the side of their friend Catie, Iris sits down again, parting her knees so Shawn can slide in between them.

     “Can I put salt on your neck?”

     “You’re more than welcome to,” Iris repeats for the third time that night and the devilish grin becomes even more evil.

     “Good,” Shawn says shortly, leaning down to her neck and using his hand to tilt her head to the side, exposing the left side of her throat to him. He grabs the salt shaker from the countertop and dips his head all the way to the bottom of her throat. He sticks his tongue out, starting small before flattening it and licking up the expanse of her neck. He can feel her moan slightly from the vibration of her throat as he runs it slowly, slowing down even more when he presses the spot below her ear. He uses his hand with the salt shaker to push her hair even farther over her shoulder and moves her hoop earrings. He pulls back, looking into her eyes and mindlessly allowing the salt to drip from the shaker all the way down her skin. Her eyes are hooded, but the confidence that lingers has wavered and Shawn can sense it. He bites down on his lower lip to avoid smiling at her submission to his actions and puts the salt shaker down. Her eyes have weakness and desperation lingering behind them and he so badly wants to drag it all the way to the front. To have her on her knees in front of him, the desperation so clearly scrawled on her face as he undoes the buckle on his belt.

     This time, he grabs his shot glass. He moves his other hand to collect her straight hair in his hands and bunch it to the other side of her neck, not letting go. He can feel her hands settle on his hips, digging her nails into his shirt and he smiles to himself. He continues to look into her eyes until he can’t anymore and his lips are too close to her skin. Iris closes her eyes and tips her head back, Shawn’s grip on her hair tightening and she can’t help but let out a weak whimper at his actions. She can feel him chuckle underneath her fingertips but she doesn’t care anymore. Her game has ended this very moment and she just needs Shawn to lick up her neck and to her mouth and to kiss her so hard her lips bleed. The huff of laughter blows across the wet strip on her skin, forming goosebumps along her thighs and forearms and she has to fight off the urge to shiver at the sensation. He breathes against her skin, once, twice, three times more before he fully presses his tongue to her neck and begins collecting the salt on his taste buds. He’s even slower than he was before, savouring the sweetness of her skin and perfume, mixing with the saltiness of her sweat that’s collected along her own hairline and the salt on her skin. She allows her lips to part the slightest bit at the sensation of his smooth, hot tongue running along her nerves. When he reaches that one spot under her ear, he tugs slightly on her hair before running his teeth along the spot and she gasps. The sound makes Shawn moan and glance at her closed eyes before he removes himself, downing that rancid tequila shot and leaning forward to clasp the lime wedge in between his own lips. And as he’s getting it, he makes sure his lips brush her own just slightly before he uses his teeth to pluck it out of her mouth and suckle on the bitter fruit. When he stands to his full height again, smirking down at her, who’s closed her lips. She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes. They’re hazy and glazed and etched with pure sex as she stands up and moves so Shawn can sit down.

     If he wants to play that game still, she can put on her best poker face.

     Iris draws out her movements, playing it off as being drunk, but it’s all deliberate. She parts his legs for him, slotting her hips in between them before reaching behind him and to the bar to grab the salt shaker. She makes sure she leans forward slightly, pushing her cleavage together and in front of his face. She throws a glance at Shawn and he can’t seem to take his eyes off of her bare skin. She smiles to herself before grabbing the salt and standing straight in front of him. Even in her platforms and with Shawn sitting down, she isn’t even at the same height as him. But, she hopes her posture and confidence compensates for her shortness. Shawn watches her every movement, lips slightly parted and if he didn’t close them soon, he would be drooling. His eyes are dripping with intrigue and lust as he admires her figure in her tight silk dress. His fingers itch to run the full expanse of her bare legs, caressing her skin with the tips of his skin. He wants to set her on fire the way she’s set him on fire.

     Little does he know, she wants the same thing.

     She slowly moves the necklaces from his chest, to the side and resting on his silk shirt. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches Iris. She bends closer to him, eye level with his chest as she flutters her eyes to look up at him quickly. Her left eye drops into a wink before she returns to her placement of salt. She takes a deep breath before licking the middle of his chest and up to his Adam’s apple. She’s slower than Shawn was, taking her sweet precious time, teasing the living hell out of him. She presses her tongue hard in some spots and removes most of the pressure in others. She rests her free hand on one of Shawn’s pecs, steadying herself and feeling his breath and heartbeat picking up with each inch she licks up his skin. When she reaches his Adam’s apple, she bites down slightly, making Shawn groan at the contact before she quickly soothes it with a faint kiss. Shawn can’t help but think how soft and lush her lips are, pressing against his sweaty skin. At this angle, she can smell his cologne and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head at how good he smells. He smells expensive and luxe and musky and she presses her thighs together slightly. It makes her think of sleeping in his sheets with him, how they’re coated with his scent. It makes her think of burying her head into his neck as he’s fucking into her.

     When she stands up straight again, she makes eye contact with Shawn. His eyes are hazy and drooping, but they never waver from her. She gives him a knowing smile, beginning to pour the salt down his chest and throat. He tilts his head back slightly, giving her access to the area on his neck that she had run her tongue along. She follows his movements, making sure the trail of salt reaches his Adam’s apple. When she’s done, she puts the salt back on the counter and grabs the tequila shot and the lime. She taps Shawn’s lips with the lime and he parts them even farther as she places the wedge between his teeth. He gives her a small wink, making her quirk her eyebrow at him. If he thinks he has the upper hand, he was about to be extremely incorrect.  

     She also hands him the shot glass and he looks at her with confusion, but takes it.

     “You ready, honey?” She asks, her own voice dripping with honey and sweetness, but her eyes saying anything but. He just nods, licking his lips.

     “Okay,” she trails off. She crouches slightly, resting her hands on his thick thighs. She drags her hands up his thighs slowly, making sure to scratch her fingernails to juxtapose the softness of her finger tips. She’s watching Shawn and Shawn is watching her. He can’t take his eyes off her. His chest begins to heave as her hands inch closer and closer to his groin, brushing the fabric just slightly and ghosting her fingertips along his strained cock and he moans out loud, but none of her friends hear. Her hands then begin to coast up his torso, brushing over his abdominals and up to his pecs. When her fingertips reach the taut skin, she digs her fingernails into him slightly before beginning to lick up the salt trail on his chest. His chest hairs tickle her lips and are rough against her tongue, but she’s closed her eyes and is basking in the way his body is responding to her. His thighs are tight, his abdominals are flexed and his cock is so unbelievably hard. His heart seems to be pounding out of his chest and his breath is uneven. She did all of this to him and she’s so proud of herself. When she reaches his Adam’s apple, she moves her hands to the sides of his neck and tangles her fingers in the curls at the nape. She gives a tug as she begins to suckle at the bobbing part of his throat. She can feel him groaning, or growling, at the sensation, the vibrations brushing along her lips.

     Iris eventually pulls back, nodding towards the shot glass that Shawn holds loosely in his hands at his side. His eyes had been shut and his head had been thrown back at her touch, but when she removes herself, he opens his eyes. His whiskey coloured pupils are gazing at her, completely blown and drunk and horny, but he watches her intently. He brings the shot glass up and she uses one of her hands to hold onto his wrist. Her touch on bare skin feels even more intense than the fire of her touching him through his jeans and silky top. He feels like every cell in his body is vibrating and he can’t stop watching her. She guides the shot glass, still grasped in his hand, to her lips. She wants Shawn to pour it down her throat and he’s more than happy to oblige. She parts her lips as he rests the bottom of the glass on her lower lip and tilts the tequila to spill into her mouth. She has her eyes closed on purpose as she downs the bitter alcohol, the warmth and saltiness of it so comforting to her. When there’s nothing left, she closes her lips and opens her eyes and swallows, making eye contact with Shawn as she does this. She notices his own throat bobbing as he gulps at the sight of her swallowing, his mind clearly in the same place as hers. He takes away the shot glass, setting it behind him as she leans forward and prepares to take the lime out of his mouth. But right as she’s about to pucker her lips around the fruit, he drops it from his mouth and lets his lips press onto hers. 

     Iris is surprised, but welcomes the touch of his lips against hers finally. His lips are as soft and plump as they look, tinted with the taste of salt and tequila and lime. Her head begins to spin and she knows it's not from the alcohol. His lips send a tingling to not only between her legs, but throughout her entire body. Her entire body is hot with fire and intensity, his touch setting something alight inside of her that she’s never felt before. It is so much more than desire, it is a longing that is finally being fulfilled after so many years on earth. It’s perfect to her. And Shawn can feel the perfection too. His entire body feels like it’s floating, not only from the relief that he feels about finally being able to kiss her, but feeling a connection he’s wanted for so long. She moves to slot her lips between his and he moves with her. But after she initiates the slotting, he completely takes over. He finally places his hands on her lips, pulling her impossibly closer to him and digging his fingertips into the fleshy spot. He moves their lips in sync, adding pressure with each movement of their lips against one another. Her one hand in his hair tangles even further, tugging slightly at the roots as her free hand fists his green top in between her palm. His hands wander to her lower back and then eventually the curve of her ass and lord, is it incredible. Both let out gasps and whines as Shawn kneads her flesh in between his hands.

     When they’re both out of breath, Iris is the first to break the kiss. Her lips are brushing against his slightly as her chest heaves and lets out puffs of air she didn’t know she was holding in. Shawn’s doing the same, his hands still resting on her ass and her hands still threaded into whatever she can grab onto, trying to ground herself. Both of their eyes are closed as they snap out of their little bubble, the music from the club spills into their ears and the whooping and cheering and shouts of her friends bleed into the music. Their skin is sticky with sweat and want as they break apart even farther. The lights of the club flash against their tinted skin and a few flashes from her friends cameras. 

     They don’t say anything originally, lost for words and a million and one thoughts flooding their minds as they try and process the intensity of the moment they just shared. But their minds both end up in the same place. If a kiss is that explosive, what could even more be like?

     “Wanna get out of here?” Shawn asks tentatively, opening his own eyes. Iris’s are closed and decorated in an eyeshadow look that he loves on her. The silver and black contrast against her olive toned skin and dark eyes. When her eyelashes flutter open and she’s looking at him, the confidence has subsided and she reveals a small piece of vulnerability as she replies.

     “You really want to?”

     “Of course I do,” Shawn smiles, moving to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She smiles, her vulnerability and confidence mixing as she looks into his eyes and nods,

     “I thought you’d never ask.”

     Shawn stands up, pressing her tightly to him as he bends down and drops a peck to her forehead before grabbing her hand and excusing himself from her group of friends. She follows along, threading their fingers together and saluting to her friends as they whistle and laugh.

     As they weave their way through the crowd back to his bodyguard, she hopes that Shawn actually does want to see her again. Because what she felt when she kissed him... she needs to feel it for the rest of her damn life.

[staggeringsmite]

3, 14, 20 👁👁

thank you!

3. How do you like your eggs?

scrambled because i’m baby, and the only time any other form of egg doesn’t gross me out is if it’s a fried egg huevos rancheros style

14. Type my username without using your fingers and post results (and what you did)

shorthalt that was my nose baybeey (i am,,not proud of this)

20. Your most controversial food like/dislike.

i can’t pick because i’m a cursed hellion so have a range of awful takes:

pineapple and black olives on a thin crust pizza is my go-to

those sweet lil’ baby pickles are Fantastic

i put a bit of salt on watermelon, honeydew, and grapefruit

pulp in orange juice,, bad

tomatoes in my mac n’ cheese all the time i love it

send me a number!