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[glitchedgirly]

and yet, interestingly enough, the username is one of the last things I’ll look at in a post

im probably biased but i feel like tumblr's username game is stronger than every other website. sometimes i just go thru my activity feed looking at them for entertainment

[mad-as-a-box-of-frogs]

So, after some pretty intensive counselling, I realized I wasn’t in love with the real Sam Winchester. I loved his character. So instead of reading your stories, I kept writing my own. [...] Where the guys didn’t have to hunt monsters all the time. They just sit around and do laundry and talk, you know? I mean, that’s what people like the most, anyway.

Becky Rosen in Atomic Monsters (15x04): Best of SPN Ladies [340/?]

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Jamil Viper

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Jamil Viper x Reader 🐍🦐

TAGS: Fluff; a little angst; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Jamil’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 6.220 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I would also like to say: I kept the endings "sama" and "bocchan" because I thought they would make more sense, and since "sama", from what I researched, is gender neutral it could be used with Yuu. I don't know if Jamil's shawl has a specific name. And I'm not good with color names.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy 🐍

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / (Jamil) / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

Kalim seemed to have enjoyed the dream-to-dream journey, and even compared it to his carpet rides. But Vil didn't look or feel very well. It seemed like some kind of motion sickness specific to those dream travels. Everyone agrees that Vil should rest. Silver and Ortho stayed with him in the shade, while you, Grim, Sebek, Kalim and Idia, or rather his tablet, went for a walk to analyze the world of that dream a little more.

After walking around for a while, Sebek comments that it is as hot as in Kalim's dream. Which is explained by the fact that both dreams take place in Scalding Sands. Kalim recognizes the Camel Bazaar and suggests that you all should buy Vil some coconut juice, it's cold and refreshing and might help him feel better. Grim agrees, but Idia and Sebek fear that this could cause problems because they don't have the local currency. However, Kalim assures that everything will be fine.

Kalim orders, to everyone's surprise (or almost everyone's), TEN coconut juices. The vendor gives him a heap of whole coconuts with an opening at the top and a straw each. Kalim encourages you all to try a sip and you do so. It really felt good in that heat. Kalim prepares to leave with the coconuts when the vendor calls his attention.

“Excuse me, sir! You need to pay.”

“Pay? Sorry, I don't have any cash on me.” Kalim responds too naturally and tells the vendor that he can just bill his house like usual.

But the vendor didn't know what Kalim was talking about. When Kalim told him his name the vendor recognized the name, however...

“Al-Asim, huh? If that's true, that's even less reason to put anything on a tab. You think you can dine and dash at MY stall? You've got some nerve, kiddo!”

“This is going south fast...” You say. “There's no returning the juice now that we've drunk it...” You approach Kalim to talk to him about that situation and that's when the vendor finally sees you well.

“OH! (Y/N)-sama!” The vendor practically stutters your name and completely changes his attitude. “I-I didn't see you were in this group. Are they your friends? I am so deeply sorry for my bad manners. If you don't have money with you either, I can just bill the Viper's house if you'd like.”

“The Viper's house?” Kalim wonders. “Why Jamil's house?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Grim whispers loudly at your feet. “Just say yes and get us out of this!”

You accept the vendor's offer and he lets you go with all those coconuts and a smile on his face. But a slightly scared smile. Returning to Vil, Silver and Ortho, you all discuss what happened.

“So, (Y/N) seems to have more power here than Kalim.” Ortho observes. “And apparently they are also somehow connected to Jamil Viper's house.”

“But how?” Sebek wonders. “And why?”

“Well, by the way the vendor reacted when he saw (Y/N)...” Idia says. “I have an idea... but let's analyze this place better first.”

Vil and Ortho exchange glances with each other, probably thinking the same thing as Idia.

“We can start by checking my place.” Kalim suggests. “Jamil's place is on our grounds.”

Arriving at the place where Kalim's house would be, it was deserted... Literally.

“Wh... This can't be right... MY HOUSE IS GONE! The main building, the annexes, Jamil's home, they're all gone! Where'd everybody go?!”

A local resident who was passing by asked if you were tourists and told you that the Asim Palace had a change in ownership years back. The new owner had it relocated to high ground on the outskirts of town. He didn't know who the new owners were, but he know that the Asims had to give up their house after their business failed.

You go look for the palace.

You all go to where the palace was now and Kalim is shocked to discover that it was true that his house really did get relocated to higher ground. And not only that, but it looked like the exterior's been repainted too. The roofs have gone from teal to red, and the walls from white to black.

“Hey!” A Guard suddenly approaches. “What are you kids doing here? This is a private－ ah! (Y/N)-sama! It's you, and Kalim. My apologies, I hadn't recognized you from afar. Jamil-bocchan has been looking for you to go to school together.”

“Jamil?” Kalim steps forward. “Jamil is here?!”

“What kind of question is that? This is where Jamil-bocchan lives... Viper Palace!”

You discover that the one who bought up Kalim's home was Jamil's father, the head of the Viper family. He bought that manor from the Asims when they were in sore need of money, and know the Vipers were the richest family in Silk City.

After the guard's explanation, you hear music coming from somewhere and an elephant emerging through the front gates at the head of a whole parade. You see that the guy riding the elephant was none other than Jamil, wearing a uniform just like the one the fake Jamil wore in Kalim's dream, but this one was red and black instead of turquoise and white.You also see the dreamer's silver bird around his head.

“Make way! Coming through!” Another guard announced. “Make way for Jamil-sama!”

You all step aside.

“Why are YOU making way, Kalim?” The guard who was with you questioned him. “Take this parasol and join the procession!”

Since you were distracted looking at that guard and Kalim, you got startled when you suddenly felt something grabbing you by the waist and lifting you into the air. When that thing finally lets go of you, you are in Jamil's arms and you realize that that thing was the elephant's trunk.

“Where were you, my desert bloom? You are quite late.” Jamil asks you and then looks at your clothes. “Have you been shopping? Hm... no offense, but I've seen you in better clothes.” He smirks.

Jamil lands you on the elephant's back, but you can't stand on your own and cling to Jamil. He laughs.

“You haven't gotten used to it yet, have you? But let me just change those clothes real quick. You can't go to school without a uniform.” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a uniform similar to the black and red clothes with gold jewelry he was wearing. “Much better~” he says in a lower, slightly seductive tone. “Black already looks good on you, but red looks even better.” He grabs you firmly by the waist to hold you, before turning to the people in the procession behind you. “Get marching, and don't break formation!”

“Jamil looks like he's having a ton of fun!” You hear Kalim say right behind the elephant.

“You there, quiet down! Less talking, more walking!” Jamil orders him.

You look back and see two lines, in front of one of them is Sebek, followed by Vil and lastly Silver, in front of the other is Kalim, followed by Ortho and lastly Grim, who you imagine would be complaining.

“So...” You try to chat with Jamil. “How long is the path to school again?”

“Is it just me, or are you more spacey than usual?” He looks at you slightly suspicious. “Unless... Oh, you're asking because you're tired from shopping, aren't you? Well, Jahar Sahir College is on the other side of the city, but the path is straight so you'll see we'll get there in no time. Enjoy the parade.” His watchful gaze returns to the people behind the elephant. “You there － your parasol is drooping. Hold it properly!”

“Whoops, sorry! I'll fix that right away.” You hear Kalim apologize.

Jamil is very suspicious and attentive. If you take too many risks, he might realize that you are not one of the NPCs from his dream. And it’s not a good idea to take that risk more than 2.5 meters above the ground.

Suddenly, in the midst of the euphoria of the moment, Jamil pulls you to lie on his other arm, making you lose your balance and scaring you. Even if you shouted in fright, it was just another scream in the middle of the cheers. Jamil laughs before pulling you back to your feet and grabbing you to hold you steady. If you hug him or cling to him, he will like it even more.

“What was that?!” You ask, it really looked like you were going to fall off the elephant.

“Ha ha ha!” He laughs in a way you don't remember ever seeing. “I just felt like surprising you.” He smirks. “Or maybe it was a little punishment for disappearing on me and arriving so late to the parade.”

And as another surprise he kisses your lips quite lovingly, but only for a couple of seconds. When he breaks the kiss, he laughs at your surprised face.

“I know, I don't usually do this with so much attention on us. But no one will dare tell us anything.” his smile had a hint of menace.

“All right, we're here.” Jamil finally announces. “Parasols closed, elephants to the stables!”

Jamil leads your elephant to a special platform for you to get off, and he helps you, giving you his hand to support you. You look around and see a school just like the school in Kalim's dream, but once again red and black instead of teal and white. And the statue in the fountain was also different. It wasn't the Ruler of the Oasis's, but you recognized this one, it was a statue of the Sorcerer of the Sands, the same man from the Scarabia Dorm.

“We should go look for Kalim.” Jamil bends his arm to invite you to intertwine yours with his. You do so and he starts walking towards the fountain. “Kalim! Where are you?!” He shouts displeased.

“Oh, I'm right here!” Kalim waves with a big smile. “Hello!”

“Don't give me that!” Jamil retorts. “How can you loaf around without looking after your boss...? Wait. What's with that outfit? Did you botch your color-changing magic again?”

It was as if all that joy of his had disappeared as soon as he approached Kalim. It was a little sad to see, both from Kalim and Jamil's side.

“Huh? I didn't botch this.” Kalim explains. “It's supposed to look like the Ruler of the Oasis. Cool, right?”

“The Jahar Sahir College uniform uses traditional red and black colors like what the illustrious Sorcerer of the Sands wore. What were you thinking, bleaching them to your whims? The nerve.” Jamil takes his magic pen and changes the colors of Kalim's clothes to the same as his.

“Ooh, the colors changed! These are pretty nice too, actually. Thanks, Jamil!”

“I think you mean to say, 'Thank you very much, Jamil-sama, sir.’” Jamil corrects with an offended expression. “Honestly... You'll never let go of that pampered rich boy demeanor, will you? Look. The Asim family owes the Viper family more money than you could pay off with a lifetime's worth of work. So you should try to make yourself at least a LITTLE useful to me.”

“Jamil!” You say, as if asking him to moderate his words.

“I know, you don't like it when I'm like this to Kalim, but he needs to know his place.” He looks at you strangely, almost sulking. “You always had a soft spot for him that I never understood.” he addresses the group again. “By the way, who are you people? Jahar Sahir College isn't open for the general public to just waltz in.”

Silver explains that they are from Night Raven College and Vil says that the reason they came to Scalding Sands was a Film Research Club project, but that they had heard so much about Jahar Sahir College that they had to visit it. He said they were looking for the reception and it was shortly after that Kalim spotted them and approached them. Jamil seems suspicious at first, but after thinking about it for a while he supposes there is nothing strange about it.

“Considering their shabby attire and vapid expressions, I'm sure they're simply students.” Jamil murmurs.

“Hey, I heard that!” Grim informs.

“Oh dear, I beg your pardon.” Jamil says smugly. “I let my inner voice slip out there...”

“Wait a minute...” Grim notices the way Jamil talks to him. “You don't recognize me?”

“Recognize you?” Jamil repeats, confused. “My apologies, but I don't remember ever meeting a little beast like you.”

“WHAT?! You know (Y/N) but you don't know me?!”

“What does one thing have to do with the other?” Jamil turns to you. “Do you know this strange cat?”

As Grim complains that he's not a cat, you think about what to say. But what should you say? That you don't know him? That you met him once? But when? And how? The more time you let pass, the more suspicious Jamil would become.

“We crossed paths with (Y/N) before the parade.” Vil saves you. “I think Grim developed a special liking for them after meeting them.”

You see Grim look surprised at that excuse and then lower his ears a little sad, reluctantly accepting his new role in Jamil's dream.

“I can see why.” Jamil smirks. “I've never met anyone who wasn't enchanted by (Y/N). Which is ironic coming from someone who is not a mage. Allegedly.” He looks at you with that mischievous smile and raised eyebrow.

“Forgive my indiscretion if so.” Ortho says. “But would I be correct in concluding that you two are a couple?”

“Yes, you would.” Jamil answers casually.

“However, you said that they are not mages, but they are students of Jahar Sahir College?”

“An exception was made due to personal circumstances.” Jamil said defensively. “Nothing you need to... worry about.” He finished in a slightly threatening tone despite the smile. “Returning to the subject of your visit. As the student council president, I would be a far more fitting person to show you around campus than Kalim.”

“Oh, truly?” Vil smiles. “How fortunate for us to receive hospitality straight from the student council president himself.”

“I wouldn't want Kalim giving them the impression that our students are subpar.” He mutters.

Jamil says that, personally, he is interested in hearing about Night Raven College. He knows about the Dark Mirror and says that Scalding Sands also has long been a flourishing producer of magical artifacts.

“There's the Magic Flying Carpet, the Great Serpent Staff, the Hourglass of Clairvoyance...” He looks at you for a split second with a smile on the corner of his mouth, when talking about the hourglass. “And the Magic Lamp.”

Jamil says that the Sorcerer of the Sands himself employed such artifacts in his great deeds, and that to this day many people in Scalding Sands, including students from Jahar Sahir College and Jamil himself, are interested in them. He also brags about his family's treasure being bursting with artifacts collected from all over the world.

“I'd love to hear more about the ones housed at your school.”

“Ooh, wow! You liked (Y/N)? I had no idea!” Kalim says. “I'm so happy for you two. And you're the student council president? That's great, Jamil!”

“Why are you acting like this is the first you've heard of it? Not only do you GO to this school, but you and (Y/N) are friends. Now stop standing around and prepare a proper reception for our guests”

“Whoops! Right, I'm supposed to work for Jamil. Okay, a proper reception means a party, right? I got this!”

Kalim starts by asking someone to prepare a party, until Jamil reminds him that this was HIS job. Then Kalim says that a party needs drinks, but instead of going to the kitchen to get some, he uses his signature spell, Oasis Maker, to make it rain.

“You fool!” Jamil says to Kalim as he uses his own shawl to cover you and try to keep you from getting too wet. “Who goes around spraying water without any warning?!”

“We'll need food, too.” Kalim continues, oblivious to what Jamil was saying. “I'll go grab some food from the kitchen! Be right back!” The rain dissipates as he runs away towards the interior of the main building.

“What's gotten into him?” Jamil mutters again. “He's never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's usually not THIS bad.”

“Maybe he's just too excited that we have guests from so far away?” You suggest.

“Trying to alleviate his incompetence as always.” he mutters to you, slightly disapprovingly, before turning back to the others. “Ahem... I'm sorry you all had to see that.”

“Please, don't worry about it at all.” Silves tells him.

“Here you are, Jamil - uh, I mean, Jamil-sama!” Kalim comes back. “I brought a bunch of your favorite foods. Look! I've got a whole pot of curry, some dates... Oh, and lots of silky melons! Where should I put them?”

“I had a bad feeling, but seriously... Who brings the food out before they even set out rugs and tables?! This is beyond bad. You're utterly useless!”

“Ah hah hah! Sorry about that! I've never done this sort of things before.” Kalim apologizes, good-humored as always. “Jamil-sama, could you hold the pot of curry? (Y/N), Grim, you hold the dates and melons.”

“Mrah! Don't plop a whole pile of melons on my head!” Grim appeals unsuccessfully. “Geez, this is heavy!”

“Okay, I'll get some rugs next!” Kalim announces excitedly and runs away again.

“Hey, wait! What kind of staff makes their bosses and guests do the work?!”

“I thought you hated dates.” You say, looking at the large basket full of them that Kalim passed into your hands.

“And I do.” Jamil confirms. “At least someone remembers. Ahem... I'm so sorry about this.” he apologizes to Grim too. “I'll keep the dishes levitated with magic. You don't have to hold them.”

“Ooh, it's all floatin' now.” Grim says relieved. “That's much better!”

“Ugh, that dimwit gets on my last nerve. Mom and Dad are far too lenient. And so are you.” Jamil tells you.

“I see you don't like that about me.” You concluded as the others spoke amongst themselves.

“It's not that I don't like that side of you and you know it. But there are people who don't deserve it.”

“Well, I think Kalim deserves it.” You defend him.

“How stubborn.” Jamil sighs. “But I'd be lying if I said I disliked it. Depending on the situation, it's quite attractive.” he smirks.

You didn't know, but while the two of you were talking about Kalim, the others were also talking among themselves about Jamil and you.

Grim wondered if Malleus's spell wasn't supposed to be giving people happy dreams, but Jamil was in a snit, he didn't seem all that happy to him. The Shroud brothers concluded that this dream followed the same pattern as Vil's dream. Kalim was a source of stress for him, just like Neige was to Vil. But Kalim exerts an outsized influence over Jamil's personality and capabilities in reality. Removing a figure that influential would make the dream more prone to major paradoxes. Unlike Grim, and maybe that's why Jamil didn't remember him.

“Nonetheless...” Ortho sees Jamil smiling at you, even after that silly little argument. “He seems pretty happy with (Y/N).”

“True, he seems more relaxed with them.” Silver agrees.

“We must not deviate from the main point!” Sebek reminds them. “We need to make Jamil realize this is a dream as quickly as possible!”

“Right.” Silver agrees. “Between this place and the bazaar, Jamil's definitely got a strong imagination. I don't think a simple shock would do the job. How do we approach this...?”

Kalim returns, saying he went to Zahab Market and got some nice pieces from the rug merchant. Vil comments that those "nice pieces" look like they'd cost an arm and a leg. Jamil finally seems satisfied with Kalim's work, taking the opportunity to boast again about his family being the richest and most influential in the city.

“Anyway, check this out! Doesn't this carpet take you back?” Kalim shows him a carpet almost identical to the flying carpet of his that you knew, but instead of red, this one was purple.

“Take me back? Why would it?”

It was a regular, unenchanted replica of the flying carpet. Kalim talks about a time when the two of them and his father went to a rug merchant, Kalim thought it was a real flying carpet, spread it out on the ground and walked right onto it. That got him a scolding.

“How could I forget? The look on that merchant's face when you stepped on a vintage silk carpet with your muddy shoes－HRK!” The dream world begins to distort. “Wait... I would never take someone as overeager as Kalim to a high-end store. Rgh... What's going on?! I suddenly feel dizzy...”

Seeing Jamil wavering, the others encourage Kalim to keep talking. Kalim remembers a time when they snuck out of the manor to visit the Camel Bazaar and drank coconut juice together, but Jamil says that Kalim was the one sneak out on his own and Jamil had to scramble after him. Then he remembers a time, just before they enrolled in Night Raven College, when Jamil used his signature spell to make the bad guys fight each other to get him and Kalim out of trouble. But this time Jamil insisted that he didn't know what he was talking about.

Kalim says that he was always the best and most dependable friend he could have, and that he trusted everything would work out just fine as long as he left it in Jamil's hands. But he was the only one of them who felt that way and now he know that Jamil hated it all along.

“That's why you used (Y/N), Grim, and the students in Scarabia to try and get me kicked out and sent home, right? Winter break sure threw me for a loop. I was super crushed when you betrayed me and told me you hated me.”

“Used (Y/N)?! How dare you... I would never... I... I did... What I did... That Winter break...? Betrayed? Augh! My... My head!”

The world distorts a little more.

Kalim says he doesn't know what Jamil is thinking, but he knows that the person he is right now isn't the person he really wanted do be. He wanted to be the best version of himself, but that isn't this.

“Remember who you truly are!” Kalim transforms his clothes into his Scarabia Housewarden uniform, which makes Jamil start to remember.

“What was that scene just now? It shouldn't be familiar to me, but... it is. The... The real me is...”

“JAMIL-SAMA!” You hear someone shout, and a second Kalim, wearing a Jahar Sahir College uniform, appears running.

“There are two Kalims!” Silver says. “That means...”

“Yes, it must be the darkness.” Vil completes.

“Jamil-sama, when I heard you went to school earlier than usual. I scrambled to catch up...” Fake Kalim says, worried. “Oh no, how could this be?! Please, hold on! I'll get you to a doctor! Guards! GUARDS!”

The ground was painted black and Jamil began to sink rapidly into darkness, surrounded by a dark fog that prevented him from seeing you all well. And guards of black goop formed to prevent you from approaching them.

“Kalim...?” Jamil says with some difficulty.

“Yes, that's right. I'm the real Kalim, your loyal retainer.”

“Huh? Jamil, look again! That's not me!” the real kalim tries to warn him.

“He's an assassin sent to end you.” the fake Kalim tries to convince him “Don't listen to a word he says.”

“Wait...” Jamil looks directly at you with heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. “(Y/N)... they...”

Black goop rises from the ground and forms a figure, a perfect copy of you, also wearing Jahar Sahir College's uniform.

“I'm right here, my love.” your copy tells him. “They had the nerve to impersonate your beloved as well. But I'm here now. The real me. The real (Y/N). Look in my eyes. As long as you stay here, you can be a ruler forever. Money, land, freedom, love... Everything is yours!”

“Yes... That's the truth...” Jamil gives in. “You're absolutely right, both of you...”

“Wait! Trust us, not them!” Kalim shouts again. “JAMIIIL!”

But none of that stopped the darkness from swallowing Jamil.

“Stop disturbing Jamil-sama's sweet dreams, you street rats!” The false Kalim commands you.

“As if we'd listen to you!” Sebek retorts. “Let's do this!”

You all change your clothes and fight the darkness. And after defeating it, Kalim jumps into the pool of black goop without hesitation behind Jamil, followed by all of you.

When you open your eyes again, you see that you’re in the Hallway of Scarabia Dorm. By the red light that dimly illuminated the place and the dark fog, you realized that it was the same scenario as when Jamil overbloated. Suddenly, you hear a creepy laugh you've heard before and you all go to the lounge.

“I did it... I finally got Kalim ousted from school and claimed the position of housewarden for myself!” Jamil is the center of attention in the room, wearing his drom uniform, and had that psychopathic smile on his face. “Bring on the food and drinks! This calls for a celebration. The foolish king is gone, and the true power behind the throne has risen in his place!”

While the Scarabia students follow his orders, you see Azul next to Jamil with that red glow in his eyes.

“Wait a minute, those eyes...”

“Hey, (Y/N). You put it together too, right?” Grim tells you in a whisper. “Looks like Azul ain't fakin' it like he did during winter break. He's really under Jamil's control.”

Most of the dorm's students, who were all actually the darkness in disguise, were gathered in the lounge. You were decidedly outnumbered. Idia says that the best thing would be to get into a more advantageous position and make a surprise attack, so you will quietly make your way behind the students and then launch a coordinated strike on cue. Silver says that Idia should give the signal and the others would carry out the attack.

“Ahh, I feel on top of the world. So this is freedom! How sweet it is.” Jamil keeps chattering. “The biggest thorn in my side, Kalim, is gone. Azul has fallen into my hands.” he looks to his right side to see Azul standing right there. “And (Y/N)...” He looks to his left side, but finds no one. “...is trying to escape again? *sigh* Bring them back to me!” he orders the Scarabia students.

Silver pulls you behind a pillar and you all hide.

“Mrah! What do we do now?!”

“Hand (Y/N) over.” Idia says to everyone's surprise.

“What?! Have you gone insane as well?” Sebek protests as quietly as he can. “What about the surprise attack?”

“Listen, if Jamil really likes (Y/N) he won't hurt them.” Idia explains. “And (Y/N) can help distract him and provide a more effective surprise attack.”

Sebek, Silver and Grim are reticent, but you are the one who takes the initiative and gives yourself to the Scarabia students while the others remain hidden. Two students hold you by the arms and take you to Jamil. And to your surprise, as soon as they let go of you the darkness forms shackles around both of your wrists.

“It pains me to see you reduce to this, (Y/N).” Jamil tells you and pulls you by the chains of the shackles to bring you closer to him. “But you insist on resisting me. Oh, and those clothes... Let's give you more suitable ones, shall we?” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a Scarabia Dorm uniform. He laughs with satisfaction. “A beautiful desert bloom such as yourself should be on the arm of the most powerful housewarden in Night Raven College. What do you say, my dear? Why refuse to be my new Vice Housewarden, and partner?”

“To be honest... I also have a crush on you, Jamil.” you admit and he smiles, too pleased. “But not this version of you. The real you. Or rather, the best version of you, that I know exists behind this senior psychopath.”

“The... real... Hrk!” his head hurts and the world distorts a little, but Jamil pushes you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

“I'll teach you some respect... but until then...” he orders that the Scarabia students grab you by each arm and lift you up. “Let's just calm that rebelliousness of yours for a while.”

As the students hold you by the arms, he holds your chin to make you look at him. You knew what he wanted to do to you and struggled to keep him from using Snake Wisper on you. You are saved by Kalim, who attacked Jamil before the signal with a solid blow.

“Wh... Kalim?! What are you doing here?!”

Silver and Sebek attack the students who were holding you and free you from the shackles by breaking them.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Silver asks you, holding you in his arms in case you need a little comfort.

“Huh? I don't understand...” Sebek says. “The students aren't attacking us...”

“YOU BIG DUMMY!” You hear Kalim say.

“D... Dummy?!” Jamil responds in disbelief.

“The biggest one there is!” Kalim punches him again. “How can you treat (Y/N) like that?! I may not have realized you liked them, but I know you would never do these things to them. You don't want to force them to like you. You want them to like you for who you are. That's why you started getting nervous whenever we met with (Y/N), right?

“Nervous? ... Hrk!”

The dream world begins to distort as he remembers the first time he felt good around you and then begins to worry if you secretly hated him for what he did to you and Grim on Winter break.

“You don't want to use them, you don't want to deceive them.” Kalim continues. “And the same applies to competing with others. What you wanted wasn't a prize earned through dirty trickery! And you know it! Wake up right this instant, Jamil!”

“What I wanted? ...Hrk!”

The world distorts again with another memory: Jamil telling Kalim to shut up! Telling him not to give him orders! That he was through following other's orders! That he was going to BE FREE!

“Argh, you keep trying to tell me my business...” Jamil says, annoyed. “What would someone as oblivious as you even know about me?!” he punches Kalim.

And the two of them begin to fight while insulting each other. Until the insults are reduced to one adjective at a time between punches. Cynic, Imbecile, Jerk, Airhead, Blockhead...

“Such childish bickering...” Sebek comments. “The other students and Azul are all pawns made from darkness, but they're just standing there staring.”

He suggests that you aid Kalim, but Silver stops him.

“Let them get it all out of their systems.” Silver says. “Sometimes a fist fueled by emotion is more effective than any words. ...It definitely was for me.” He gives a small smile.

After some time of fighting, Kalim starts laughing.

“Huh? What could you possibly have to laugh about right now?” Jamil questions.

“Y'know, Jamil... I think this is the first time in our 17 years together that we've ever fought like this!”

“What?! Well, obviously! If I beat you up in reality, it would spell disaster for... Ah?!” The world distorts again. “Gaaah! Augh! It hurts... My head! In reality...? Why did I say that? Rgh, augh...!”

“That's right. This is all just a dream! Please, Jamil, remember! Remember the real you!”

“Right... That day... What I did to you... What I did to... Ah, aaagh...” Jamil remembers what happened on winter break, the dream shatters and he wakes up. “Heh. Haha... Ahahaha... That's right. I failed to oust you that day.”

Kalim celebrates that you all managed to wake up Jamil, but after a little chit-chat the ground starts to shake and fissures began opening all over the place. The dream was starting to break down because Kalim wasn't supposed to exist in it.

Idia warns everyone to get out of the dream as quickly as possible, but then the floor started giving out beneath Kalim. Jamil dove in to save him and the darkness began to dragging him in. Kalim grabbed Jamil to try to get him out of there, but Jamil told him to leave him and punched him when Kalim refused to do so. If you had also tried to help Jamil, he would have just push you too. And Jamil was swallowed by darkness.

When you returned to the dream after the Shroud brothers informed you that it was safe, you landed in Jahar Sahir College. And when you see Jamil he is wearing his Scarabia uniform. Kalim ran to hug him but Jamil dodged successfully.

You and Silver say you're glad he made it back, and Jamil says that he owe all of you a great deal before asking if someone could please fill him in on what was going on.

After the Shrouds show him the explanatory video he says he gets the general gist, and admits that he wasn't entirely sure the rest of you weren't more illusions he subconsciously conjured up, but he never would have thought of the cheat tools idea that Idia came up with. And continued talking about the possibility that it was part of Malleus' spell but it didn't make sense to bring it up to him at all, if that were the case.

“So it's probably safe to accept that all of you aren't illusions created by me or Malleus.” Jamil finally concludes.

“Dude, you were questioning our whole premise...” Idia comments.

“Why wouldn't I, after having my mind, my memories, and my whole world rewritten? But... if you're all real that means...” Jamil looks at you and starts to get worried. “W-when exactly did you get here?”

“Some time before you appeared riding an elephant at the start of the parade.” Ortho answers.

“Yes, we were even part of it!” Kalim adds smilingly. “It was super fun!”

“S-s-so... those people at the parade...” Jamil stutters as the panic grows. “T-the person w-who was with m-me on top of the elephant...”

“Aaaall that until we lost you to that black goop after our fight.” Kalim adds, oblivious to the main point.

“So... that means... that (Y/N)... that whole time...”

“Jamil Viper, please breathe.” Ortho asks him. “I am detecting worrying imbalances in your aetheric structure.”

“Jamil looks like he's going to explode with embarrassment.” Idia says. “I don't even know if that's possible in a dream, but I'd rather not find out.”

You realize the best thing to do is to calm him down, he was unable to say a single word anymore. You take his hands, tell him everything is okay and ask him to breathe.

“I-I-I'm really sorry...!” He says still in panic and almost petrified. “I-I don't know why I did that... I-I didn't want to... I didn't...”

You hug him and feel how tense all the muscles in his body are.

“It's okay. I don't blame you.” You say in a whisper close to his ear. “We don't control our dreams. If you remember what happened, do you remember what I told you?”

“W-what did you tell me?”

You confess that you like him too and that you knew that wasn't the real him. Maybe you even say that you’re willing to forget all that and start over as it should be when you return to the real world.

You then feel Jamil’s muscles begin to slowly relax. Until he reciprocates your hug, is as gentle as it is strong.

“I'm sorry...” He apologizes in a whisper, probably the most sincere you have ever heard or will ever hear from him.

“Aww, GROUP HUG!” Kalim says excitedly.

“NOOO!” Everyone else grabs him and stops him from joining you.

“My goodness, Kalim!” Vil scolds him. “You really need to learn how to interpret social insights.”

When you break the hug, he still tries to look you in the eyes, but can't. You chuckle and cup his face to make him look at you.

“Ironic.” You say with a reassuring smile. “You being the one who doesn't want to look into another person's eyes.”

A small smile begins to form on his lips and he brings a hand to one of the ones you have on his face. He looks at your lips for a second and when he sees you smiling connivingly, he kisses you.

A kiss that lasts until Grim loudly clears his throat. As soon as Jamil breaks the kiss and looks at the others, remembering that they exist, he... isn't embarrassed. He smiles smugly at them, still holding you.

“Hey, last time I checked, it was still my dream.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[4bsurdcreature]

Something is wrong.

Something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong.

You don’t drop your drink on the bar floor, you place it gently on the bar it was served on, as you feel your heart pulse in cut time, while your face flushes and your hands shake. Next to you, a warm smile, a gentle hand, a deep voice asks,

“Are you alright?”

And your heart sings, your pulse leaps, all you can think is I love you, I love you, I love you! and you feel sick with the infatuation of it all. “I’m fine.” is what you eventually say, but it comes out unstable, higher pitched, than you want it too, and in turning away you watch your friends trade glances with one another.

“She’s in love!” One of them, Rachel, says to the other.

“I never thought I’d see the day!” The other, Beth, replies.

Something is wrong! You try to tell them, but you can’t get the words out, as they trade giggles and hushed tones while you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

----

Inside, you face yourself in the mirror. Water has done nothing to calm the fire in your gut, and the butterflies in your stomach swirl to a stampeding rhythm.

You’ve never been in love before, and you never thought you would be. You love, you have always loved, or sometimes loved, or kinda sorta loved, before. But you’ve never been *in* love; beyond passing curiosity, you’ve never wanted to be. It took a while to be okay with that, and an even longer time to acknowledge it, but this is how you are and regardless of how you, or other people, feel on putting a term to it, it’s how you imagined your future remaining.

Asexual. Aromantic. The bane to love-song propaganda. The constant butt of every joke that cries “This is what it means to be human! To Love! To Love! To Love!”.

Right now, you don’t feel human. This feels wrong, like a violation, like someone reaching into your nerves and burning them with the uncomfortable jolt of electricity, forcing you to jitter and move against any conscious choice. Forcing your blood to rush, and your mind to fill with him, him, Him!

Ants bearing love notes and centipedes scrawling heart-felt confessions skitter and scrape across the undersides of your skin. You would cry, you think, if your mind wasn’t cotton stuffed full of Love.

“There you are!” Rachel says, entering the bathroom to find you, shaking, wiping down your face one last time with water and crumbling brown paper towels.

“Something is Wrong.” You tell her, finally able to think without that man drowning your thoughts, content to be a constant undercurrent for now.

“I’ll say!” She laughs, “Look at you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Joshua back there!” No, no no, she has it wrong. You’re not here to think about Joshua’s soft blue eyes- Stop it! Blue: ice scrapping, chilling you to the bone.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t normal. I can’t stop thinking about him. I’ve never felt like this before.” You try to impress. You want to scream. You want to throw up, a little, too, but you can’t tell if that’s you or the Love.

“Twenty-seven is pretty late to get a first crush, sure, but Joshua’s a nice guy, I get it! Not to mention big, strong, and handsome~” She does that thing with her voice. That double entendre waver that you always thought was a little gross, when talking about someone in love.

Why doesn’t she understand- “No, I mean- Don’t you think it’s weird? Isn’t this out of character? I don’t-” You can’t, “But now-” You can’t even say it, “It won’t let go. It won’t stop. I want to be with him, I want him to be with me! I feel weird! This isn’t right!”

“You’re being dramatic... but I guess that makes sense- it’s your first time, after all! Oooh, I can’t believe I got to be there when you fell in love for the first time! This is so romantic, it’s like a fairy tale! No one was right, no one fit, you had resigned yourself to living a Loveless life, until suddenly, He appeared!” She sighs, dreamily. You think you’re going to be sick again.

But still, you stop and think. Stop to partition the little idiot in your brain that keeps designing cursive versions of your name next to Joshua, blossoming with bloodstained hearts in-between. Resigned, that’s how Rachel phrased it. Is that how she saw it, saw you? The bathroom door opens- it’s Beth. She’ll understand.

“You two were having a gossip party without me?” Beth says, but there’s no hurt in her eyes as she gives a sly smile.

“She’s In Love~” Rachel taunts you, incriminating flush branded deep in your flesh burning all the brighter.

“I saw!” Beth squeals, and your stomach drops, hope failing, while your Love soars.

“Beth, you’ll listen to me, won’t you?” You ask, desperate, a last ditch effort “This isn’t normal, this isn’t right- I think maybe someone poisoned my drink-”

“Oh, she just won’t stop.” Rachel cuts you off, rolling her eyes, “She’s convinced, that just because she’s never been in love before, that must mean there’s something wrong.”

“Being in love isn’t wrong!” Beth responds to Rachel, sympathetic gaze turned towards you, reaching out to hold your hands like you’re a child needing comfort, “Sure, you’ve never been in love before, and change can be scary when you’re not ready for it, but shouldn’t you be celebrating? Now you know you were wrong! It is possible for you to love! Isn’t that wonderful?”

You’ve known Beth the longest, you’ve confided in her the most. Every moment of your life had been charted out and experienced with her by your side, your best friend and confidant. She knew you before you had a name for what you were, and she had always acted supportive of your decisions. She was the first person you told, when you discovered your relationship with love.

Beth looked so happy, as she said those words ‘Now you know you were wrong!’

You can’t. You can’t look at them. But you also can’t stay here.

“I’m going home.”

“Already?” Rachel scoffs, arms crossed, looking at you like you’ve said something ridiculous.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Beth calls out to you, as you shoulder your way past her to leave.

----

No one believes you. You think that’s the worst thing you’ve discovered, about being in Love.

They see how your rash of a blush spreads when you talk about him, how you choke and stammer out praises mixed in with your loathing. They think you’re an idiot, new to your feelings, bumbling about them like a hormonal teenager, Love too big to think clearly. That last one is true, (Love all but suffocates you) but not in a way that you can make people listen.

It’s amazing, how few people truly care, when they think it’s about Love.

You ask for help, but it’s not the kind anyone wants to give.

‘Self Sabotaging’, ‘Repressed’, ‘Denial’, you’ve learned there are a million different ways to tell you that you’re wrong for thinking it’s wrong you’re in Love.

----

It is with vindictive satisfaction that you eventually prove your claims correct. When enough time had passed without you throwing yourself at Joshua like he undoubtedly assumed you would (and you were terribly grateful you were able to prevent), you caught him in the act of poisoning another drink. You had proof, and you took it to the right channels; you were cured and he would never do it again.

You were overjoyed, for a bit, but the victory itself was tainted. You stopped the villain, but the damage had already been done.

How quickly did those close to you turn, and how alienating it was, for no one to believe you. Puppeted by Love, reciting poetry of rotting verses, they mistook sweetness for healing rather than underlying disease. They must have seen the festering spread of Love as something to fill in the cracks of your character, instead of covering what little of you there was left beneath it all.

A gift in disguise, you think bitterly to yourself, as you wash the whole event clean. If your friends and family wanted you to be in Love, they can hold onto that fantasy- you don’t plan on speaking with them again, after all. They can read about what happened to Joshua in the news, and you can find a better group of people to spend your time with.

It is with peace you find yourself, in a life without Love.

"Aro/Ace person gets given a love potion" story but instead of them being immune or whatever, it DOES work, and they realize IMMEDIATELY that they've been fed a love potion because this feeling is so wrong and foreign but everyone keeps laughing off the idea of it being a love potion because "they were probably just a late bloomer" or "no, you just finally found the right person!" and it's just a horror story about how no one believes them even though they know, they KNOW this isn't right and they can't stand it.

[daycarefriendpickup]

Mermay Is Upon Us!

Heello all! In light of Mermay being only a couple days away we have put together a list of daily prompts throughout the month! This is a NO pressure event so don't be worried about not completing them all, this is purely for fun!

There are also some bonus prompts at the end as well should you complete the rest or simply wish to have extra options! Prompts can be completed in any order preferred! Should you post your finished works to tumblr, please tag it with #DCFPUmermay25 and/or ping this blog so we can find it and reblog it!

Happy Mermay everyone!

Mermay prompts:

1) Seashells

2) Ocean Storm

3) Pirates

4) Mythological

5) Space

6) Injury

7) Saltwater

8) Scales

9) Crash

10) Net

11) Nap

12) Abyss

13) Hook

14) Fins

15) Oil Rig

16) Hunt

17) Blind

18) Siren

19) Moon

20) Deep

21) Surface

22) Caught

23) Tank

24) Small

25) Freshwater

26) Reef

27) Octopus

28) Play

29) Twins

30) Colossal

31) Aquarium

Bonus/Substitute Prompts:

32) Turtle

33) Scar

34) Subnautica

35) Dive

36) Fish

37) Pair

38) Dance

39) Boat

40) Pearl

[deep4ried]

Who says machines don’t have souls? / Aren’t we machines, too?

[yellowhollyhock]

very much this, and got me going on a tangent that didn't fit in the tags

This is maybe just me and probably has to do with the order I watched tmnt (03 then rise then 87, all three very different, and then the rest of em, but also part of idw somewhere early on there)

but I always felt like, while their personalities are certainly different, Rise Leo and Raph had more of a focus change than a role change

Like, with 03, and many iterations, the focus is on Leo. The show's about all of them but his arcs take center stage, his understanding of the conflict and what he believes about familial roles colors what the audience gets to see. The other brothers have their focus episodes, but it's Leo's worldview we're kinda following if that makes sense

And that does very much come across as Leo constantly trying to be responsible, follow Splinter's teachings and look after siblings, Raph looking for opportunities to contradict him largely just because he doesn't like authority as a rule, and sure Leo showboats a bit but that's because it's super cool to be a ninja

But Rise followed Raph more. The show is still about four brothers, and possibly Rise would have changed in later seasons, but the first two focus on Raph's emotions, how events influence his worldview, how his flaws affect his family, etc. (until the movie which threw Leo into the limelight ajdhkdksk)

And that comes across a lot more like Raph trying to be responsible, follow Splinter's teachings, and look after siblings, while Leo pokes holes in his plans, complains about the risk, and showboats way too much. When will he relax and just let Raph smash things?

idk, Leo and Raph have always been pretty similar, with Leo's style being more observe and wait for the perfect Moment, manipulate the situation from the shadows, while Raph's style is more go straight in and get it done, hit hard and fast and powerful. In the other shows there are absolutely times when Raph feels like Leo is trying to get out of a mission due to laziness or cowardice, and we see more of Leo's pov where he's stressed and trying to keep Raph safe, but the Raphs see... well y'know, Pizza Puffs episode type shenanigans

And I thought it was neat Rise showed more of Raph's pov

Anyway the shows are definitely different. The personalities were absolutely switched up a bit, on purpose. But it's not that different, just a little flavor and angle change

1987 Raphael is his own type of creature

The dynamic in Rise between the rest of the team and Leo is. so fucking funny. Because like you've got these three extremely talented individuals who all seem like perfectly reasonable people at first glance, right, but then if you squint hard enough you realize they're actually all batshit insane (affectionate) and the clown boy standing behind them is secretly their common sense.

Clown boy will occasionally put himself and the others in danger to Prove Himself or Prove Someone Wrong (see Minotaur Maze and the movie) but like otherwise... i think people forget Leo's overwhelmingly the voice of reason in most situations?

Raph, Mikey, and Donnie are all incredibly powerful boys with very specific skill sets. They are also, as a direct result of this, the WORST decision-makers on god's green earth lmao. When presented with a problem, Raph will smash, Donnie will blow shit up, and Mikey will razzmatazz. They will all run straight toward death with the same oblivious enthusiasm of a dog about to run straight into a screen door. None of them realize this and all of them think they are Extremely Good At Problem-Solving.

And the guy cursed with the common sense to realize this is literally the LAST person anyone would expect.

When you look closely, the entirety of Rise is actually a chronicle of Leo trying to find new and creative ways to keep this team of superpowered fools alive while simultaneously white-knuckling his Cool Fun Guy persona so the others don't realize he's secretly the Boring Responsible One. Haha, you know what would be Cool and Fun, guys? Not going after the Spine Breaking Bandit lol. Getting home before the sun goes up lol. Evacuating that civilian lol. Not telling the guy dangling me off a roof "you won't, no balls" lol.

The sacred struggle of every iteration of Leonardo is thanklessly wrangling the most trigger-happy siblings in the world, and Rise Leo has not escaped it. He just does an occasional shenanigan to avoid detection and his brothers fall for it every time.

[inquisitor-apologist]

People will be like ‘the Jedi are all evil failures who abused children’.

And then you will ask them who they think was the best Jedi and they will say ‘guy who killed 10000 children’.

And then if you point out that perhaps the reason they think the Jedi are so bad is because they’re using Mr. 3 On-Screen Genocides as a standard they will get very mad

[chocochiffonnn]

MEDDLE ABOUT

➸ Pairing: Tattoo artist Jake! x Reader

➸ Word Count: 23k

➸ Synopsis: In which the experience of your first heartbreak led you to the wonders of getting a tattoo. But surprise, surprise— the tattoo artist is hot. As in, mouth-watering hot. So you keep coming back for more— both the tattoo and the hot artist making it.

➸ Themes: Friends With Benefits, Porn With Plot (smut tags below) , Strangers To Fuck Buddies To Lovers.

➸ Warnings: Jake is IMPLIED to be a playboy, he's also gives mixed signals, BLONDE JAKE!! I REPEAT, BLONDE JAKE!! Lots of cursing

➸ Smut Tags: dirty bathroom intercourse, drunk sex, Jake is mouthy and loves babbling his mouth off, dom Jake, he LOVES praising, Jake is rough with his hand, squirting, fingering (f receiving), hand job, mouth job, making out, unprotected sex, teasing, cum dumping (or whatever).

➸ Author's Note: this took me forever to finish, life + school + work has been ROUGH! sorry for the wait guys! hope u enjoy reading this as much! also, this is my first smut don’t judge pls

➸ Taglist: @titttuaf @beomgyus11 @kristynaaah

NEEDLES WERE NOT MUCH OF YOUR STRONG SUIT— the mention of something pricking your skin bears chills down your spine, though quite figuratively. There was something so odd and intolerable about it.

Some people liked to assume and correlate one’s fashion with their personalities. Adorning one’s body with dark palettes and accessories automatically meant for some that it was practically a basic practice to be relishing the skin with hundreds of tattoos, or to be acting like a delinquent in the midst of the streets.

Not for you, though.

Needles creeped the fuck out of you.

You pricked yourself with it once, the moment still replayed in your head whenever it had the chance. Sometimes, even being the cause of such a nightmare.

You hated being pricked with something so sharp, literally.

Figuratively? It was even worse.

Experiencing your first heartbreak during the first day of the second semester was ass. Correction— is ass. The moment you entered the shared room of your apartment, craving the need of a long day’s rest after endless hours of classes and work, pins and needles came crashing down and pricking upon you like a voodoo doll.

Like the ones you used to play with at the ripe age of ten, poking through your dolls as you mumble the names’ of your enemies. Like the toys you used to thrash around whenever it was all sparkly, and pink, and pretty princess-sy.

You hated it.

You dreaded the feeling, walking up with heavy steps as you see your boyfriend of five years that certain October— Doyun, making out with your best friend, on the very same sheets you cleaned. The very same pillows you fluffed, the very same room you’d design alongside him.

They felt like needles.

Thousands and thousands of it.

And it hurt like shit.

You’d left that very same room after a much deserved slap to both their faces, claiming, hoping you never see the two of them again. Fate had other plans, but at least, it was enough on your end. It was too much.

And months later, you find yourself laying down at that very same room, the space feeling empty and dull without the shared laughs and moments with your cheater of a boyfriend. Your phone clutched in your hand, scrolling through the ceaseless Pinterest inspirations of your feed, going as far as creating a board for it, labeled:

Tattoo inspos.

Needles were fucking ass, but what the fuck about it?

“Maybe this one will look good…”

It was a small sword, embedded with a sort of crisp fabric around it.

“Too tacky.” You say, scrolling through another inspiration. A skull tattoo, with wings adorning the back of it— freedom and death? “Too emo.”

You frown, clearly, there was no visible tattoo thus far to catch your attention. Feeling a bit dejected and worried, you scrolled a bit farther down the app in order to find something, anything, before you had the chance to change your mind and wuss out.

Then you notice it— a dime sized butterfly tattoo, black in color, melting in ink. It was like drawing with a gel pen on a random piece of paper, then smudging that pen to achieve a blurry effect. Except this one, except of a smudge, the butterfly looked like it was melting.

It immediately caught your attention,

“Perfect.”

~~~~~~

You really just hoped there was no shady business going down here.

Contrary to well-received reviews on their service, you must say— the place definitely looks suspicious and odd. Located beneath a train station with uneventful sights and not necessarily the most aesthetically pleasing background, safe to say you are more or less suspicious.

Tats.

The little sign above the room sparkled, the room itself was clean, decored in black and white, perfectly matching your vibe. With but prayers on your side, you entered and soon find out that contrary to what you’ve been assuming, this place does seem sterile and clean. At least… More so than the outside.

Someone greets you upon entering, a small woman who had tattoos from her arm up to her neck. He her hair was auburn, she had freckles painting her face like it was also a tattoo. From the counter, she smiles, “Welcome to tats. Walk in?”

You nod, “Yes, if that’s okay.”

The woman turns her head, grabbing some sort of paper for you to fill in your personal information. It was rather cold, and from your peripheral, you can see the stationed little booths that perhaps each tattoo artist resided and do their work in. Your hands felt rather clammy as you reached the end part of the paper, it felt like you were going to throw up, seriously.

“Alright! There’s an available artist right now, would you like to have yours done straight away?”

You nod, she smiles. “The only problem is it’s a man so… If that’s okay with you?”

“It’s okay, I’m not getting a tattoo done up my ass.” You quip, the auburn woman geniunely laughs at your joke, mumbling an ‘okay’ as she gestures to one of the nearby booths. Taking it upon herself, she exits the counter and leads you to where she’s been pointing at. “Sim Jaeyun?”

The receiving end was silent.

The woman sighs, grabbing the curtains and haphazardly opening the stall. “Jake!”

Oh no.

“What? Stop nagging.”

Sim Jaeyun— or so she calls him, rubs the back of his blonde hair as he lifted himself up from the tattoo chair, he looked like he’d just gotten out from a nap.

He’s hot.

As in— chiseled by the gods and goddesses type of hot. Like, what in the actual fuck type of hot.

“You’re sleeping again? I can’t believe you.”

Sim Jaeyun laughs sheepishly, “Sorry, sorry.”

Oh fucking no.

You visibly winced as you feel yourself checking him out. Dressed in all black, his neck up to his ears were adorned with necklaces and accessories that had you going feral.

He is exactly your type, the very epitome of you. Only difference is that he’s a man.

“Who are we getting done today?” He asks, the rasp in his voice visible as he attempts to regain consciousness. Complete Australian accent. Hot. Sexy. What the fuck?

“This is Y/N. She’ll tell you the design she wants,” The woman turns to you, “This one’s Jake, he’ll be the one to tattoo you.”

You nod. You had to retract what you said a couple of minutes prior. Maybe you just had to get a tattoo done up your ass.

“He looks like he may bite, and he actually does—” Jake cuts him off, “Yah!”

“But he’s a pretty talented artist so you’ll get your money’s worth. Just be careful, though.” The auburn woman laughs, pointing a finger towards a Jake who was visibly pouting as he arranged some of the equipment needed. “She might not end up getting a tattoo from me anymore.”

You grin, “I’ll see your skills for myself.”

“Oh?” Jake turns around, leaning against the table as he pulled the latex glove fit on his hand. “Gladly.” He smiles, you can feel him visibly stare you down. The way his eyes lingered from your head down to your feet. At this point, the auburn woman had already left to tend to another client and it was just you and him alone.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a word. He just blatantly stares. Hardly being subtle about it, and being all the more obvious. Was he checking you out?

“You can sit down now.” He says with a shrug, eyes still glued to you. You nod, knowing his burning gaze pierced through you. It made you all the more excited and thrilled. Usually, things like this weren’t one for the books given your pitiful relationship months prior.

But nobody ever plays things by the books now, everybody wants to have a little edge— to think outside of the box.

“So, Y/N.” Jake starts, holding the head of the chair as he hovers above you, “What tattoo am I making for you today?”

You shrug, pointing towards the spot just below your collarbone. “I want a butterfly.”

You notice how Jake pauses, stifling in a laugh. He turns his head to the side as his broad shoulders vibrate a bit. “What?” you ask him, not quite getting the reason as to why he’s laughing. Were butterflies outdated now?

“You don’t want one that covers the whole arm? Maybe a back tattoo?”

You physically shiver, shaking your head as a response. “Hell no. I’d appreciate it if I don’t die at my first tattoo appointment.”

Jake raised a brow, “your first time?”

Nodding, you rub your below to calm down your nerves. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” You feigned offence, Jake laughs. “No, sorry, I don’t mean it that way. It’s just that— you do look like someone who gets tattoos pretty often.”

You shrug, “So people say. Is it because of the way I dress? I also get told I’m brazen.”

Jake grabs some of his tools, the gun, needles, ink— whatever it was that was to be pricked upon your skin. You find the way he sets it up to be so distracting, men who know what the hell they’re doing has you going feral.

Paired with the nerves and the jitters of that thing, and the idea that you were actually getting a tattoo?

Any second and you might actually pass out now.

“Maybe both, I mean you do look tough.”

“Am I not?” You quip, Jake shook his head with a smirk. “Someone who gets chicken skin from needles isn’t necessarily the most toughest person out there.”

“Hey!” You counter, rolling your eyes. “We all have our own fears. Mine just happened to be needles.”

“Valid.” Jake snorts, holding the tattoo gun with his right as he sat down on one of the chairs, spreading his legs for balance. “Can I see your reference?”

You nod, pulling out your phone to show him the specific post from interest you saw last night. Jake takes a long look at it before he nods, “are you ready?”

“No.” You say honestly, holding in a breath. Sim Jaeyun smirks, fingertips brushing across your piercing collarbone. His clad fingers were cold to the touch, yet at the same time, it electrified a part of you. “I thought I’d show you some of my skills?” He whispers low.

You whisper back in response, though force and strained, “I’m not sure I’m the person to be testing that out on!”

“Shh,” He cooes, “Just relax. It won’t hurt.”

“I really hope it doesn’t.” You hold in a breath as Jake’s precise needle came into contact with your supple skin. It felt way less worse than what you’d dreamed about, what you thought about. Like being bitten by an ant, thousands and thousands of it.

From the corner of your eyes, Sim Jaeyun’s focus was unmatched. He bit the bottom of his lip, his head unimaginebly close to your shoulder. God, he smelled divine. He had his undivided focused locked on the piece of art, hands precise and delicate as it poked the ink through your skin. Strands of his blonde hair collided wit your shoulder, making you shiver all the more.

Minutes pass with Jake’s unnerved focus on your skin. Once he was done, you feel him pull back, his face unreadable. It was rather awkward on your part, eyes straying anywhere but his hair. The paintings on his wall, the equipment on his desk— anywhere but him.

“Do you want me to fill it in?” He asks, gaze boring into yours. For a moment, you forgot how to breath as you responded, “No, it’s um. It’s fine that way! Looks perfect.”

He nods, standing up from his chair and turning towards his equipment. He fixed his stuff as he spoke, “It’s best if you avoid submerging it in water for a little while. Scratching, exposure to sun, tight clothing— you know, the things any sane person would not do with a fresh tattoo.”

You nod as Jake turns towards you, handing you a piece of something from his pocket. It was a small card, with not the place’s number, but his number on it. It looked professionally made. “You hand these out to everyone?”

Jake smirks, shaking his head. “Only to those I want to send ‘em out to.”

“Oh,” You laugh, “Should I be thanking you or what?”

Jake shook his head, shrugging, “Up to you.”

You nod, perhaps slightly getting the hint of his words, the fire you were playing, and more or less, the danger this thing resided in. The danger he resides in.

“I’ll take note of that.”

“You really should,” He smiles, “I have a feeling I’ll see you around more often.”

~~~~~~

Needless to say, the urge to keep coming back for more proved to be compelling enough. You woke up that morning with a banging headache and an immense amount of urge to scratch your newly-placed tattoo.

A headache didn’t matter, the moment you woke up, it felt like all you wanted to do was go back and have your skin imprinted with another piece of ink.

Or perhaps to go back and have Sim Jaeyun’s touch somewhere else. Up your ass, maybe?

Last night, however you were immediately hit with the unfortunate announcement of an exam. With not much time to think or even let your fingertips touch Jake’s given card, you had immediately stayed the night up studying for the written exam. But you thought about it the entire time— Sim Jaeyun’s lingering touch.

Damn, does he know the effect he has on people?

Procastinating and being under time pressure worked wonders.

Waking up late twenty minutes before the said exam also worked wonders, and you find yourself scurrying around your apartment the following morning as you settle for whatever clothes and stuff you had in display to bring.

Walking along the campus of your university in a rush with a cup of coffee in hand, you rushed towards the exam site in hopes of making it in time. Then, you stumble upon something that had your eyes intrigued. You pause momentarily, gazing upon the small poster that stuck itself onto your department’s floor.

The poster of Jake’s tattoo shop. Not his tattoo shop, but the place he worked at. It offered a promo for this month, a free tattoo for one person as long as the latter was paying.

And you think for a few seconds about it until eventually, an idea popped into your head.

You had just the right person in mind.

~~~~~~

The routines that followed the rest of that day remained subtle. Classes in the morning, work in the afternoon. Until eventually, afternoon came down and you’d decided to make the eventful choice of getting another mark.

“You got a tattoo and didn’t think to even tell me?!” Lee Heeseung, one of your co-workers said dramatically. You worked at a particulary run down CD shop that had the vibes of something from the 90’s, but what you sold was only part of it.

CD’s of music ranging from classical genres to newer ones, even limited editions that artists had either cancelled or no longer sold. In the art of music, there wasn’t really anyone better than Lee Heeseung for the job. He had not only the place memorized, but also the music and its soul in general.

Not to mention, he was the attention and the focus of the customers who dropped by here. The apple of everyone’s eye— also part of the reason why this place hadn’t shut down yet. No one ever really buys CD’s anymore, yet what some fail to notice is that music is always timely— regardless of what age you lived in. Or so, Heeseung always liked to ramble on about like a philosopher.

“Come on, Hee! It’ll be like— fun.” You say the last part flatly as you fix a particular stack of CDs. It wasn’t particularly fun or satisfying on your part. Heeseung looks at you suspiciously, mouth twitched upward, looking utterly disgusted. “You are fucking scared of needles, am I supposed to believe that?”

“Uh— Yes? Cause its literally coming from me. Look,” You drop a particular CD, inching Heeseung’s finger and unveiling a part of your collarbone. “I got a small butterfly.”

Heeseung stares at it long and hard before he choked in a laugh. “Are you sure that isn’t like made with a pen or something?” his fingers attempted to brush against the mark, only for you to pull back swiftly, glaring at him intently. “Don’t touch it! It’s healing.”

Heeseung was laughing at this point, clutching his stomach as he struggled to speak, “And there I thought you got your whole arm tattooed or something!”

You pout, “I wouldn’t do that for my first tattoo! That’s like a one-way ticket to hell.”

He shrugs, “fair point, still no.”

“Come on Hee!” At this point, you were shaking Heeseung’s shoulders around, jumping up and down as you coaxed him to getting a tattoo with you. Contrary to public opinion, Heeseung was not such a big fan of tattoos, claiming he doesn’t like putting such marks on his body. But it doesn’t hurt to try, especially since you kind of know the way to Heeseung’s mind.

“You can get a CD tattoo, or an ipod, maybe a quote from a song you like the most?” You suggested with a sweet voice. Heeseung looked at you, unconvinced. Yet, his eyes were a bit more gentle and less tense than last time. Oh, you were so getting him.

“I’m paying for the tattoo, you just have to show up! It doesn’t matter if it’s small, it’s free anyways. So just accompany me— please?”

“What if I get a dick tattooed on my back, like a huge one?”

“Well— that’s your choice. Nobody’s stopping you.” Heeseung rolls eyes, “Fine, until when’s the promo?”

You grin, “Tonight.”

~~~~~~

The shop closed at 5PM with you and Heeseung traveling to the same alley you got your tattoo at, the suspicious corners and parts of town.

The sole idea of Heeseung getting a tattoo— you try and sweet talk him— is absolutely a very smart move. Girls would consider him more attractive, more customers would flock in, the sales would increase, and eventually, everyone would be happy!

“If this thing gets infected, I’m totally blaming you.”

“I’m not holding you back, I’m scared mine will get infected too.”

“You’re planning my demise, aren’t you?”

“How’d you figure out so easily?”

“You’re literally the type.”

You laugh, brushing Heeseung off. Eventually, you were met with a rather pungent smell of some dog shit as you walked along the alley. “You’re definitely planning to kill me, what the heck is this place?” Heeseung asks, disgusted as he held his nostrils with his fingers.

“I know,” You say, covering your own nose, “Trust me though, the place isn’t dirty.”

“I sure would hope not cause I’m bolting the moment you leave me here.”

Eventually, you were met with the black doors of the tattoo studio, the neon lights of the name lighting up just above— Tatts.

“Tatts? That’s exuding some immense aura.”

“I know right.”

You enter the stall with much anticipation, you hadn’t even thought about what tattoo to get next, only adamant on being here. Which is weird, you’ve never had such a stronger urge to be somewhere so fast. Like some magnet was pulling you in.

You were greeted with the same auburn woman— who you learned was named Kaiza, who entertained you during your first session. She recognized your presence, immediately smiling once she saw you, smiling even wider when she saw the person you were with.

“Y/N! Came to get your second tattoo?”

You nod sheepishly, “Yes. Is your promo still on?”

“You are currently,” she checks her watch, “lucky, because the promo ends in an hour.”

You turn to Heeseung, mumbling an ‘I told you so’ and he simply sticks his tongue out. “Are you getting a tattoo, too?” Kaiza turns towards Heeseung who nods his head, showing one of his captivating smiles. Weirdo.

“Yes, I’m with her.”

Kaiza grabs a piece of information paper, handing it towards Heeseung, he filled it in. Meanwhile, you looked around the familiar the room. Still the same as you last left two days ago. Dark, well lit, and very much gave the vibes of a tattoo studio.

Heeseung finished filling his paper up, Kaiza leads the two of you to the stalls. You hoped, you really hoped—

“Sim Jaeyun is here today, would you like to get your tattoo done by him?”

“Yes! I mean— yeah, yeah, that’d be chill.”

You can sense the way Kaiza’s face contort into that of mischief, Heeseung remains oblivious to the way you so eagerly give way to such a statement. He was too busy admiring the room, and ultimately, Kaiza.

You can’t blame him, the auburn woman is sure as hell attractive.

“There are two other people here who can do your tattoo, Heeseung.”

“Do you do tattoos?”

“Me? Yes… Why?”

“Can you do mine?”

Damn!

You swiftly look at Heeseung with a smug look, nudging him ever so slightly with your elbow and wiggling around. Heeseung knows what you’re implying, and he chooses to ignore your little antics and teasing, opting to shoot his shot instead.

You feel Kaiza laugh, “Hmm. Do you want me to?”

Heeseung shrugs, “I’d want my first tattoo to be memorable.”

Oh you had to give it to him. If there was ever a time where it rained of cockiness and confidence in flirting— perhaps Heeseung was there, with his arms wide open, catching every single drop. Kaiza bites into his oblivious flirting as she drops you off to Sim Jaeyun’s corner.

She opens the curtain, only to find the man, once again, splayed out nonchalantly in the tattoo chair. His black clothes blended in a bit with the chair, aside from part of his arms, shoulder, and head. He quite literally just wore a tank-top, exposing his muscular arms which surprisingly, had no tattoos.

“Jake, Y/N’s back.”

“Oh, really?” This time, Jake wasn’t

napping. Rather, he was playing a random game on his phone, eyes focused on tapping the screen. Once he heard your name roll off Kaiza’s tongue, he closed his phone and threw it to the side. Jake ruffled his hair, looking at you with quite an unreadable look. “I’m guessing showing my skills worked?” He quipped, you rolled your eyes, “Shut up, I have a growing interest for tattoos now.”

Kaiza and Heeseung bid goodbye, with the latter harshly patting your back and mumbling a short, ‘this the dude? pretty valid.’

Despite the fact that you hardly told Heeseung anything, he just somehow seemed to know. But you can tell he wasn’t really here to scold, with the way he followed the auburn woman around to get his, “tattoo.”

“What are we getting this time? Don’t tell me its an ant now.” Jake stands from the chair, going over to his equipment. “I haven’t really thought about it honestly.”

“Oh?” Jake stops momentarily, turning around to look at you. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this for fun.”

“Maybe I am doing this for fun.”

He leans back in his desk, arms crossed. ”You probably just came over to see me again.”

Dead serious, you looked at him straight in the eye and responded, “Yeah, that’s actually the reason why.”

Part of Jake’s blonde hair covered his left eye, the other low yet unnerved towards your body language. You felt a little clammy and small under his gaze, but you kept yourself still and grounded even with the way he strips you bare with his gaze alone. That same look he used the first time he saw you, the first time you spoke. Then, Jake laughs.

“You weren’t lying when you said you’re bold and brazen.”

You shrug, “Can you blame me? You’re like—” pointing towards him, “that.”

He leans his head to the side, an amused look on his features. ”Like what?”

“Like an absolute meal.” You say, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing ever. Jake laughs, twisting his head to the side. “You find me that attractive?”

“Just alright.” You had to somewhat humble him. Jake does his usual routine of setting his equipment up, until he was already sitting beside you and you layed down the chair. “Where’s your next tattoo gonna be?”

You think about it for a moment. Though you’ve no particular interest as to what design you wanna do, there is a specific place your mind desires for his craft.

“Beneath my chest, ribcage.”

“Y/N, are you serious?” Jake deadpans, pulling his gun back. You nod, “Dead serious. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You know that’s like, one of the most painful places to get a tattoo at?”

“I’m well aware.”

“So you’re fully aware of the consequence this may bring, yes?”

You shook your head. You know it’s going to hurt, but how bad it’s going to hurt, you absolutely did not know. “It’s probably going to hurt like hell.”

“It’s going to hurt more like hell,” Jake clarified, “What design are we doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me."

“I’ll tell you?” Jake feigns amusement, he was surprised. Usually, when people come in to get their tattoos done, they already have something in mind. “What do you mean I’ll tell you?”

“I don’t really know what tattoo I want, you got any suggestions?”

He can put a piece of dick or shit on your ribcage for all you care and you would absolutely thank him for it. Jake thinks about it for a moment, leaning back against his chair, “are you letting me decide your tattoo right now?”

“Yes, it’s why I’m asking you.”

“Are you sure? You may not want to trust me with something like that.” He leans forward, fingers pointing towards your black shirt. Taking the hint, you lift the hem of the fabric, exposing part of your stomach and ultimately, the part just beneath your bra. Jake stares, inching his hand towards the spot effortlessly, as if he’s done this hundreds of times before. And he probably has for the most part.

His cold touch sent electric shivers down your spine as your ribcage felt the sensation of his crisp fingers. “What have you been into these days?” Jake asks.

“What specific category are we looking for here?”

“Nothing in specific, just…” He shrugs, “anything general you’ve been obsessed with?”

“Tattoos maybe?” He laughs, “just that?”

“Well, I’m a med-student so probably any thing related to that.”

In your eyes, perhaps Jake thought of you as a colorless book, someone who sought out the adventures of being bad because you always bury your noses in those textbooks. Like a nerd or something, like most people would assume for such students.

“A med-student? Really?” He asks, with a surprising interested glint in his eyes. You nod, “I know, might seem boring but—”

He quickly intervenes, “no, no. I mean, you’re out there what? Training to save lives? That’s so fucking cool.”

“You think of that as cool?” You ask, surprised. Jake nods like a little puppy, the tousle of his hair straightening along as he agrees. “That’s the most overbearing course you could possibly take.”

“It gets me overstimulated all the damn time so pretty understandable.”

Jake laughs, “so like, a stethoscope or something?”

You shook your head swiftly, “Oh, hell no!” As much as you somewhat appreciated your course, never in your life would you leave remnants of such in your body. Simply traumatizing, too traumatizing.

“Think of something that represents you as a whole, Y/N.”

Something that represents you as a whole…

“I can’t think of anything.”

“If that’s the case, do you trust me enough?”

You nod almost too quickly. “I do.” Jake laughs, the corners of his face tugging along into an expression of mischief. Never in his career has he tattooed someone who doesn’t precisely know what they want. Usually, something like this would require decisions. And for you to throw that choice out the window for him?

Jake felt his pride begin to swell up.

“Do you go to college, Jake?” You ask amidst the silence as Jake nears your ribcage. He nods, “Surprised? I go to the same campus as you.”

If anything, you were the one surprised. “Really? What course are you taking?”

“Applied Physics. I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to that.”

Oh. You definitely did not peg Jake as someone who is into anything Science. You can see the way part of his face turned slightly sheepish, yet the jolt of pain in your ribcage came following along straight after. You winced, “oh shit, you weren’t lying when you said it’d hurt.”

“I told you.” Jake mumbles, feeling you wiggle slightly. His other hand which stabilized itself onto your ribcage settled just around your waist, attempting to keep you still. “Don’t move around, stay still, yeah?”

“Sorry…” You mumbled, wincing as he poked the gun and the ink into your skin. You don’t know what he was doing down there, but for the most part, you kind of trusted him. “I didn’t think you’d be the— shit,” you bit your lip as another jolt of pain came pushing through, “type of person to be interested in courses like those.”

“So people would say. I’ll brag, I’m pretty good at what I do.”

“You look like you’re good at everything.” You quip, rolling your eyes as Jake laughs along. It was a subtle conversation of asking each other one’s interest, hobbies, things in life, and things that may spark some interest between the two of you.

Eventually, you learned that Jake was currently on the second year of his course. A total physics nerd, with the way he randomly inserts some of his knowledge of his topics over to you. Jake also was quite the opposite of what most people would assume someone working in a tattoo shop would be like.

He’s gentle, he loves dogs, he’s always been rather crafty, he enjoys dancing. But one certain assumption that sits just right for his entire image?

Sim Jaeyun is a playboy at heart.

A big ass fucking playboy and heartthrob.

Sounds like a cliché statement to say the least, like something from a 2000’s romcom, but his stories were testimonies enough that indeed— Sim Jaeyun loved to meddle around.

You asked him how many girlfriends he’s had for the past year (choosing to be a little brave), to which he said none, because he said he absolutely hated committing but wouldn’t mind the thrill of just one night stands.

You asked him if he’s ever been to a bar or a club before and he’s been to plenty.

The tattoo itself eventually finishes after what felt like forever, Jake was intent on his work, every detail, precise and accurate. And once he was done, he pulls back and lets you judge the moment for yourself. The skin had reddened just a tiny bit, fingers came to graze along the spot just near the tattoo.

The tattoo extended from the bottom of your ribcage down to the curve of your hips. “I hope you don’t mind, but this one doesn’t really have a specific meaning. Just something that I think would suit your whole vibe.”

You stare at it, long and hard. In absolute awe of what Sim Jaeyun was capable of doing. “You really know what you’re doing…” you mumble as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Jake laughed as he cleaned up the rest of his stuff, “Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“It swells my pride up, you know.”

He meant it as a joke, but perhaps Sim Jaeyun truly lived by the compliments he gets on his work. You smile, “but you are good.”

“You’ve thought about it?”

“Hmm? About what?” You were still gawking over your tattoo. “The card. My number.”

“Oh?“ Your face turns into that of mischief, “I thought that was purely for business, Sim Jaeyun. I didn’t know you wanted me to get your number.”

“And here I thought I made it pretty clear.”

You laugh, “I’m just kidding, I’ve been so busy I haven’t gotten time to go over it.” Jake crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side as he eyed you, the same mischievous look on his face. “Am I blatantly being rejected right now?”

You shrug, “Gotta think about it, you know?” But you know there was nothing really to think about it. The clear answer: absolutely yes.

“You’re a bit difficult.” He mumbles, inching closer ever so slightly. He stood in front of you, his chest and arms flexing unintentionally. Going to the gym must also be one of his habits because– damn. “It’s not anything new.”

Jake smirks, “And yet you’re interested?”

You’d forgotten all about your tattoo at this point, shamelessly exposing yourself as you check him out. How could you not? He always looked attractive, smelled good, you bet he’d probably feel good too.

God, you know the consequences this would entail, yet you’re jumping in anyways. “I am interested, Sim Jaeyun.”

Jake chuckles, “You’re cute.”

You bit back a, “I’m quite well aware.”

He leans down, head coming face to face with yours. Surprised, you retracted your head away. Jake was suddenly being bold now, closing the distance between the two of you. But from this angle, you can see the sharpness of his features more clearly. The slight slit on his right brow, the tip of his nose, his long lashes.

He felt even more handsome and attractive up close.

“And a bit bratty too.”

Shrugging, you level his boldness and cross your arms as you inched your head a bit closer, “So they say.”

“Just my type.” Jake’s fingers brushed against your chin, keeping it in place. He lifted your head slightly, eyes glued over to the way you wet your tongue. There was this tension gnawing away in the air, as if mumbling— who’s going to break it first?

And Sim Jaeyun’s eyes were tempting you in the most oddest way possible. But he wasn’t doing anything but edging and dragging this out, so why should you make such moves?

It goes on for a while, the endless suffering of trying to keep your cool, until Jake eventually breaks the ice, “You’re really just my type, you know?”

It swells your pride a bit, despite the gut feeling in your stomach telling you he’s pulled this certain script hundreds of times before. “How many times have you said this to other girls?”

Jake pursed his lips, “does it really matter?”

And you think about it for a moment— your entire situation with him. You know you’ve been playing with fire the entire time, adding fuel and gasoline each time you come here and flaunt your presence like some sort of prize. “No, it doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

“To answer your question, Y/N—” He diverts his touch away from your chin, “You’re the first one I’ve used this script on.”

~~~~~~

Heeseung left the booth with not a tattoo, but with a huge kiss mark on his left collar.

Oh, and his right collar, his neck, his— everywhere. You can faintly see the poor attempt at trying to brush and clean it off, but Kaiza painted her lips a enticing crimson red— that same color on the said man’s existence.

He looks at you with a smug grin, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here.”

“Did you really get a tattoo? Or did you just get laid?” You teased Heeseung, nudging him. He shook his head, “I got one at the back my neck, look.”

He shows you the colorful mark on the nape of his neck— a tiny music note, noticeable but not so much with a collar on. “It looks sick, you are absolutely welcome.”

“I may have gotten a bit of her lips, too.”

You roll your eyes, “Heeseung, I don’t really think you got just a bit?”

Heeseung laughs, opting not to answer your own question and leave you to wonder on your own. It didn’t matter for you, though. You had your own matters to ponder about.

You must be crazy.

Jake must be crazy.

But he was even more crazier, because how the fuck was it even possible for a human to kiss and makeout that good?

“I think I need a fucking drink.” Heeseung drags along as the two of you exited the shop with less enthusiam, putting his arm around your shoulder. “You literally told me you don’t drink, Hee.”

“That changes today, this calls for a celebration!”

You laugh, “a celebration for what? Getting your first kiss?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, sharing a frown. “I’ll have you know, that was not my first kiss.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You weren’t really having it, though. As far as you know, Heeseung’s lips were as virgin as the color white. He loved flirting, but he never really went to the point of actually kissing somebody.

“Middle school kiss is not considered, though.”

”Well fuck— then that was my first kiss.” He feigns defeat, throwing his arms in the air. You snort in response, “absolute amateur, and yeah, I’m down for a drink.”

“Heck yeah! See? You’d agree in the end anyways.”

“Only beause I need it too.

And you really do.

“Perfect. Same time, same club later. Wear something nicer.” Heeseung removes his arm from your shoulder, shrugging his. It was a bit of a routine, really. Clubbing, partying— since the unfortunate incident of your breakup, the idea of having fun hadn’t really crossed your mind for a few weeks due to keeping yourself cooped up in your room.

That was until, Heeseung introduced you to drinking and releasing your problems away in a certain club you now frequented. A dangerous and tempting hobby to wallow in, but hey, you’re still a pretty well maintained pre-med student with complete control over your identity.

So, it didn’t hurt that you you indulge yourself in the manner every once in a while.

Always with a guy, and always with Heeseung, that is.

“Are you telling me I look ugly in what I’m wearing right now?” it doesn’t take a second before Heeseung was snorting and patting your back harshly, enough to have you fling over and lose your balance.

“Don’t pull me with that shit, you know what I mean.”

“Whatever.”

And you know that Heeseung entirely meant going wasted tonight and getting laid.

~~~~~~

Contrary to what most people would assume about medical students— you are a bit of a troublemaker yourself.

Buried beneath textbooks of foundational sciences highlighted only five days of your week. For the remaining two days? You absolutely relished on going full out. Not so much as to drink liters of alcohol every weekend, but exploring wild things had grown to be a hobby of yours after your relationship ended.

Right now, it seemed the end of the week greeted you with clubbing and wasting away.

“Stay close to me as usual unless you like— double, triple check the dude, okay?”

This was one of Heeseung’s usual routines, keeping you in line and making sure you don’t get yourself into a little trouble. You nod as usual, grateful for the concern as you felt you might need it. With the way you dressed and exposed more than a half of your bare skin, perhaps hands were definitely going places towards your figure.

Heeseung and you enter after the bouncer checked your IDs, and you were immediately met with the booming music of Rihanna’s— We Found Love— coming in full volume.

“Perfect timing!” You shout to Heeseung’s ear, and he grins, responding, “Let’s get drinks first!”

The two of you entered through the mixed bodies and sweat, absolutely in love with the way everything just seemed to unveil and ungrasp here. No professors screaming at your ear, no missed deadlines, no piles of homework due the following day. This, was the life. The fucking paradise, really.

After much mingling with random strangers, you eventually reach the counter filled with alcohol, a random bartender shaking away the order of another. “What’re you getting?” Heeseung asks you through the loud noise, “Daiquiri!” You respond back.

Heeseung chuckles, “Feeling the summer spirit, ‘aye?!” copying the accent of a British man. You smacked him in the arm, “Shut up!”

Heeseung nears the bartender, claiming a drink of his own. He hands you your own drink, and you down it with much enthusiam, the cold sensation of the citrusy alcohol rushing through your throat and making shivers run down your spine. At this point, you sat at one of the high stools as Heeseung stood in front of you, relishing his old fashioned whiskey cocktail— like an old man.

”Gonna need like a few more drinks to have my feet jumping around.” Heeseung admits, you nod along. It isn’t necessarily fun doing anything sober, when you can be a little tipsy and on edge. Finishing the first drink with much ease, you soon followed by ordering a different beverage from the bartender. And another Daiquiri, and another, and another.

It was a process of going back in forth for drinks, with Heeseung somewhat forgetting his starement from earlier and drifting off to— well, god knows where, probably swaying his hips along to the music in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t mind though, enjoying a bit of the company you provided yourself, relishing the way you looked— the way you felt tonight.

Strangely enough, you felt odd. Not in a unfortunate sort of odd, but certainly a feeling that sent your senses in a bit of alert. You can’t help but feel that someone was watching you, taking in the way you sip your drink, or the way you cross your legs.

You scan your eyes across the room, squinting through the radiant party lights and trying your best to make do. You were, perhaps, just feeling a bit paranoid.

Shrugging, you chose to brush the feeling off, heading straight to the dance floor to get your mind away from whatever that was. The groove of the music made it easy for you to occupy your riddled mind, swaying your hips along the tune of the music and raising your arms up in the air. Yeah, that tattoo on your collarbone and ribcage definitely made you feel times sexier and more… Untamed?

“Careful there.” A voice chimed in, gripping you by the waist in an attempt to balance your figure. You mumble an apology back, though not really a hundred percent sorry, and grinding your behind on the random stranger instead. As in— full on grinding and rubbing it against their pelvis.

You were even giggling, repeating your apology a couple of times beneath your breath, but your body swaying around proved otherwise.

“Are you comfortable shaking your ass on random strangers?” The said voice whispered on your ear— all too familiar and recognizable on your part. You shrug your shoulders, shouting, “It’s a club! Let loose a little.”

And let loose you did, letting your body fall along the rhythm, disregarding the fact that a pair of arms were most likely on you. It goes on for a little while, the music changing for a little while and you danced around. One thing remained certain, that grip never left you at all.

Feeling rather curious and perhaps a bit annoyed as to why someone could be so possibly clingy in a club, you turn around and discovered the reason why.

Oh. Yeah.

You were glad you turned around.

Because what in the fucking parallel universe or plot is this? Discovering it had been Sim Jaeyun’s strong grip of arms keeping you close was one thing, seeing him this fucked out and wasted? It was another thing completely.

It looked like the alcohol consumed him partly, evident on the way his cheeks flushed and his hair felt like it had been raked way too many times. Time had gone slow motion for a bit, with Jake’s piercing eyes treading holes through yours— those same ass eyes he used during your first and second tattoo session, only this time, it seemed or felt like all control was gone.

Is it really?

That’s why the strong scent of something was familiar, that’s why there was this feeling that someone’s eyes were glued to you the entire time.

But Jake doesn’t speak, neither does he move. And when he sees he’s been discovered, he merely grins and nears your ear to whisper, “You wanna fuck?”

And your response?

“God, I’d love to.”

~~~~~~

Sim Jaeyun is anything but patient.

Frankly speaking, the moment he laid his eyes on you at the bar, all sense of self-control had dissipated and gone through the roof.

How was he supposed to control himself when he saw your skirt raked up exposing the curve of your ass? How was he supposed to remain calm when you were grinding that ass on him like it was your last dance?

God, if anything, you were lucky he opted not to tackle you the moment you entered that dance floor, swaying your hips around feeling all needy for attention. Sim Jaeyun hardly goes to the middle, deeming it as too crowded and overstimulating, but hell— the moment your heels clicked and took a step forward, he just knew he had to keep you close to him.

Partly because he doesn’t want any other creeps getting to you, and also because he really is fucking thirsty and hungry, too.

So when the small of your back harshly hits the bathroom wall, you don’t argue. When Sim Jaeyun’s lips crashed onto your neck, breathing and inhaling you in— you don’t argue.

Holy fuck. This was an entirely different scenario from days before.

“Nice to see you again, too.” you mumble through heaved breaths, Jake’s lips marking kisses all over your neck. He rakes a hand through your head, groaning as he did so. “Mmh. That was fucking torture.”

You laugh, “I didn’t know that person I was dancing on was you. What did you drink tonight?”

But if you were being honest?

You felt it was him.

It seemed Jake felt that too, parting from your neck for a moment to ghost his lips over yours, “really? Hmmm… Boulevardier.”

Oh, so that’s why.

And he gives you a gentle peck on the lips— like a lover’s kiss. He doesn’t dwell on it long though, resuming his business down your neck. “Can I touch you?” Jake asks for permission, as if he wasn’t already doing that by keeping both of your hands still up your head.

You giggle, feeling him bite down the sensitive skin. He absolutely reeked of alcohol, but Jake’s sense of control and stability was insane. “Been wanting to touch you the moment you got that fucking tattoo.” He admits truthfully, sneaking his other hand down your trembling legs.

It was hard to bite back a moan, to filter out your reaction, yet you pull yourself back, letting Jake do all the talking for now. “You know how sexy you looked in this dress?”

His fingers fully slips in, grazing the hem of your panties. Fuck. “How badly I wanted to just get this off of you?” in a split second, he pulls the underwear down, the cool air hitting your bare skin. The way you shivered underneath his grasp didn’t go unnoticed, and he laughed at the way you attempted to close your legs for some heat.

Jake prods one of his legs to keep yours open. And then? He dips down and he shit— he devours your bare pussy like a man starved for years. It must be the alcohol consuming you, because when in the hell did he get there?

But it didn’t matter now, for Jake was full on licking, slurping, nourishing your cunt.

Now you don’t hold yourself back, now you moaned out his name in full pride and glory. “Jake— fuck, I—”

The sounds were pornographic at best, with Jake’s tongue absolutely wrecking your arousal filled pussy, two of his hands gripped both cheeks of your ass as he spreads it open— as he spreads you open much wider. “Mmh, yeah— s’good.”

You grip his tousled hair, feeling your back slide down due to the immense pressure his mouth provided. But Jake wasn’t having any of that shit, lifting himself up for a second, wiping the remnants of your juices from his mouth. He carried you with ease over to the toilet chair, closing the lid as he unfurls your thighs once more.

He doesn’t eat you out this time, taking two of his long fingers, slipping in the same hole. “So wet babe— hell, it’s taking my fingers in so well. Shit.” Jake nears your fucked out face, letting his left hand caress your hair as he peppered kisses to your forehead. He must love kissing and making out because the amount of remnants his lips left on parts of your body was uncountable at this point.

Jake couldn’t really be blamed, though. It felt like you were a fragile little doll in his hands, even if you are anything but that. Such a precious little thing beneath his grasp, god— he felt himself go absolutely insane. He didn’t expect to see you here, over at the bar he frequented, but hell was he glad.

Jake continued to scissor you open, in out, in out, his fingers were completely disappearing and reappearing from the slick juices of your cunt. And he absolutely fucking loved it. His boner at this point was already uncontrollable, but he hadn’t really payed much attention to his own needs given that you were here. And you needed much attention.

Scratch that, he really just wanted a taste of you.

“Jake, you’re hard- fuck!” You moan when he hits a particular spot that had you rolling your eyes back. Jake chuckles, “Shh, baby it’s alright. I’ll let you deal with it later, yeah?” fingering that particular spot with much force and enthusiasm. Sim Jaeyun was a fucking menace— he was absolutely divine with the way he worked his fingers and prodded into your throbbing hole with ease.

“You see how well it takes my fingers in baby?” Jake babbles, keeping his eyes glued to his motions. “I fucking wonder how well you’ll take my throbbing dick.”

The way Jake spoke is something surprisingly different. You half-expected it, this particular image of him loving all the dirty talk when he gets his fair share of sex. But experiencing and witnessing it first hand is a different story altogether.

You stick your tongue out, oblivious to the way Jake stares in awe. The absolute fucking guilt of having fantasized about something like this during your first meeting with Jake had long disappeared. Somehow, you just knew Jake thought of this too.

It wasn’t hard to believe, given how he seemed to be so adamant on pleasuring you, praising you, all while his own boner and hard-on left him wincing every once in a while in pain. It hurts every time he sees your pussy clench and drench his fingers. He doesn’t know what came over him, you were just so sexy it hurt.

Taking matters into your own hands, you free your grip from his shoulders, swiftly grabbing hold of the belt of his pants and unbuckling it with shaky hands. “Damn- you want it?” Jake groans, momentarily stopping all sorts of pleasure on your cunt.

You barely muffle out a hum, pulling his pants down along with his boxers, his throbbing, leaking dick bouncing against your supple cheeks like a scene from a porn movie. Jake has had his fair share of porn movies, but nothing came close to the way you stroke and teased his skin and massaged his balls.

Jake straightens his posture, keeping his hands on your head as you minded your business on his already leaking cock. It smelled musky, slightly tangy and sweet like the alcohol that tainted his mouth minutes prior. Slowly, you took one languid lick at tip of his dick, then dragging that very same tongue down his length.

Down, down, down.

Until your muscles eventually reached his balls, the warmth of it soothing your face. You cupped it with both hands, relishing each and every part of Jake’s dick. You’ve thought of this before— Jake’s ridiculously long and girthy cock tracing itself on his dark pants. It was torture, you think every time.

Because Jake is big.

And it seemed his member’s only getting bigger everytime you touch or do so much as tease it.

Without much of a warning, Jake takes full control of your head and shoves his entire cock whole inside of your mouth. He just stuffs it inside your mouth, completely ignoring the fact that you were choking. “Fuuuck— yeah, take it in just like that.” he whined. Hearing Jake whine was enough of an indication and a button for you to bob your head up and down, down and up— fully intent on getting him to release those sounds just as much as he did with you.

“You know what you’re doing– shit. Taking me in so well…” He pats your head, retracting it for a second then slamming in with full force. You could hardly breathe, but you fucking loved the sensation you were feeling— the sensation you were fucking feeding Sim Jaeyun. This was all such a catch. Despite the slightly smelly and sticky feeling of having sex inside the bathroom of the bar, the thrill of possibly getting caught any time now has you more aroused than ever.

Hell, you only wished Jake locked the door before entering here.

“Mmh, don’t worry about the doors. I made sure I— fuck!” Jake threw his head back as the entirety of his cock reach unimaginable lengths down your throat. You kept your hands glued to the side of his thighs, looking up at him with such eyes. Jake felt his warm member twitch at the sight alone. So feeble, so adorable— so not mouthy with your snarky mouth stuffed with cock. His own cock. Jake caressed your cheeks, smiling as he did so, “I made sure I didn’t lock the doors. You want the thrill, don’t you?”

Frantic, you pat his thighs and tried to pull yourself away from him. Tried. Jake wasn’t having any of it, stern on keeping your head bobbing up and down his length. “The thrill of getting caught, yeah?”

You stopped fighting all sense of sanity, and instead, focusing on swallowing down Jake whole.

Who cares if you get caught anyways? What the fuck ever. This was worth taking the risk for.

It takes a little while more to get him to finally release and whimper out your name, “Oh- I’m cumming. Take it in, shit. Take it in—”

Jake’s spurts his white semen inside your velvety mouth, the warm bitter taste coating it. He keeps your head close, making sure you were taking in every ounce of his liquid. Sim Jaeyun felt stars circle his eyes— that was the best head he’s gotten in his lifetime.

“You’ve done this before?” He asks as you retract from his head and wipe the side of your mouth with the back of your hand. Shrugging, you nod, “had a boyfriend I used to do this to.” admitting the fact that this wasn’t your first time. Surprised, Jake smirks and rubs your lips gently. You still kneeled beneath you while he towered over you. “Oh? Why’s he your ex now?”

“For the record,” you stood up from your position, grasping Jake’s cock once more as you prepared for the finale. The next big thing. And gosh, you were thankful because he was immediately rock hard, absolutely unbothered with the way you sucked and teased him earlier. He must be enjoying this too. “He couldn’t eat me out very well, couldn’t place his dick inside here either.”

Jake halts your hand from going any further, his restriction now coming into play.

“As much as I’d really love to fuck you right now, Y/N–” he laughs, “it’s kind of smelly in here. My car, instead?”

And as impatient as you were, you nodded, because it was damn repugnant in this public bathroom.

~~~~~~

“I’ll go straight to the point, it’s making me so damn impatient.”

Exiting the club and slipping out from the mindless people was easy, after the alcohol had somewhat left your system from the tension that occured minutes prior, it felt like you were ready to take Jake in. As in— as a fucking whole with a big cock like that.

It seems he shared the same sentiment, immediately pulling you over the back seat and letting your back meet the plush mattress. It smelled divine inside his car, a mix of licorice and something woody at the same time. You know he uses the same scent on himself.

Jake immediately prods the hem of your already raked up tight skirt, clutching your worn out pussy and circling your clit with his thumb. Giggling, you pull his head closer to yours and kissed him. Jake gladly reciprocated the action, you feel his lower half fumbling about as he unfurls his pants.

Getting it back on was such a pain in the ass.

“You taste like candy, god- you’re making me go insane.” he then attacks your neck by riddling it with marks. One mark after another, each one more darker than the next. “Gonna fucking mark you mine, show that ex of yours what he’s missing out on.”

“Mmh, please do, Jakey…” the nickname felt foreign and new against your tongue. He must’ve loved this though, cause the second after, he was all up your lips and whispering random praises. Jake’s good at this— pampering you, peppering you, absolutely fucking needing you like it was his last. “You want that baby?”

He twirls his thumb and index finger at your clit. “Want me to show you who’s doing this better?”

And there was absolutely no question about it. In perhaps any other universe out there— he will and will always do shit better. But you nod, choosing to swell his ego and pride a bit. This causes Jake to smirk as you feel something wet and warm hit the opening of your cunt. “You on the pill?” he asks and you nod.

Something ignits within Jake, a sudden idea coiling in the back of his mind as he says, “I’ll paint your walls clean, that okay?”

And you?

You whine pathetically, “all yours, Jake… Just please put it in.”

Hell, if Heeseung or if your parents knew what in the fuck you were saying right now, you don’t think you’d honestly live through it. But in the spur of the moment, it all feels so sexy and so erotic. Nothing has ever felt so raw and shameless before. Not with your ex who could barely get you to cum, most of all not with anyone else.

Without a warning, Jake pressed his entire cock inside your unaware cunt. It was practically a given at this point that Jake was big. As in— humungous. You visibly winced, feeling each and every corner of your insides being stretched out from his cock alone. This wasn’t your first time having sex, but this is is your first time having a cock this big down your pussy, feeling just right like a puzzle piece.

“Shit, you’re squeezing me too much, baby…” Jake groans, feeling his hips go numb for a moment as he falls forward and kisses the nape of your neck. He caressed your waist, gently pecking your cheek. “Relax…” He tells you, and you do, welcoming his member after each and every breath. The comfort Jake offered made you chuckle a bit, a sense of ease allowing your tightness to loosen up a bit from the tension.

“I’ll move, yeah?” He whispers through tight breaths, as do you, clutching his bicep. Jake feels you ease in to his cock that protruded your entrance, and he slams it. Hard. Fast. Definite. Hitting the walls of your cervix so damn good.

You feel your ear go numb at the sensation, Jake faltered too, pressing some of his bodyweight on you as he mumbled curses, “Mhm, you’re squeezing me still— shit. I can’t last long with your pussy like this.” He drunkenly says.

Sim Jaeyun was fucking intoxicating.

Doing all this.

Speaking like this.

“God, Jake, you make me go- i-insane…”

Jake chuckled, “Do I baby?” kissing you once more in places he finds accessible, “do you like me being this deep on your little cunt?”

You nod.

“This feels so good, yeah? Bet you’ve been eyeing my cock too the moment you got your tattoo.”

Jake was practically moving on autopilot at this point, swaying his hips back and forth, and your fucked up pussy attempting to accomodate his fast movements.

And you agree.

Not only because it felt good.

But also because he was the one doing this to you.

This night might as well go on for forever.

Jake hits a particular spot down your squelching cunt, erupting the tiniest whimper from you. He grins, “this—” pushing his cock a little harder down that very same spot. “one?”

And you’re absolutely gone. Babbling his name, screaming for him to hit it farther down. And Sim Jaeyun fucking does, he pistoned his hips, eyes travelling down to the way you soak him in so good and refuse to let his cock leave your pussy, enveloping him in such a way that had him going dizzy.

It doesn’t take long before he was on the brink too, cursing as he licked your lips and gave you marks around your neck, not tattoos this time. “I’m coming baby- so close.”

“‘M too, Jakey— keep going.”

“Gonna paint you clean, okay?” he mumbled, “make this pussy mine yeah? You want that too right? You need this too?”

It felt like he was begging with the way he spoke, but it was so hot and so sexy that you can’t help but nod and agree with his fucked out statements. You tell him you’d want to be fucked like that, you tell him he can absolutely fucking paint your walls pure white with his cum.

The last thrust, and Sim Jaeyun loses all control and you feel his warm liquid spurting through your squirting cunt, each and every drop of it not going to waste as he made sure to keep his cock inside your throbbing hole.

He merely watches as he keeps his cock there, pouring all of his cum erotically.

The sweat was nothing compared to the bar earlier, the hot humid air in the car making you feel so sticky and warm all together. Jake pulls his member out of your pussy, wiping the excess and inserting it back to its rightful place— your hole. He smiles once he sees you shiver when his fingers delved in. But you were too tired, too worn out.

And without much of another word, the next thing you saw was black.

~~~~~~

Caramel. Vanilla. Coffee beans.

The scent of something stirs up your system awake. The perfect breakfast.

Suddenly, you were hit with something far, far greater. This did not feel like your sheets, and you never cooked or had breakfast around.

Swiftly, you opened your eyes to find yourself wrapped in a whirlwind of emotions. You weren’t naked, clothed in a shirt that was twice your size, and you were certainly not in your room, either. The remnants of last night scrambled through your brain, your head pounding like never before.

You remembered everything.

From Jake’s eyes glued to you the entire night, to his body connecting with yours.

It was abominable, but it was so perfect at the same time. You cringed at the fact that you were truly experiencing this, getting laid with your hot tattoo artist you met for a few days.

It’s stupid.

Really stupid.

You slap yourself in the cheek with far more force intended, cursing beneath your breath. Looking around, you saw how organized and clean Jake kept his room. Contrary to yours riddled with sticky notes and papers for reviewers, he had minimal stuff around (as do most men) with only a bed, bedside table, closet, and a large desk with his devices.

The room was relatively dim and dark, the design catering perfectly up to Jake’s taste. Then, the smell of bacon intrigued your nose.

It must be Jake, cooking something up.

You picked yourself up on your feet, only to discover that you physically can’t. Or at least, it was hard to do so given your legs felt so bruised and incapable from the sudden gush of pain hitting your thighs and your— yeah, well, down there.

“Fuck, was it that brutal?” you whisper to yourself, attempting to make way to the kitchen and navigating Jake’s space. You eventually made it there, only to find the culprit with his back turned on you, holding a pan and flipping the food around.

He had only his back turned but his sculpted shoulder blades was enough to make your knees buckle again. Jake hears the footsteps nearing his way, turning around to greet you with that same warm smile. So indifferent.

“You’re awake just in time.” He greets, putting the last piece of bacon down on the plate. He had pancakes, scrambled eggs, fruits, bacon, and a cup of hot coffee all prepared.

It kind of felt like he’s your boyfriend for a split second.

“I didn’t know where to drop you off last night, so I hope you don’t mind that you’re here.”

You shook your head, feeling ashamed with the situation at hand. For sure, your hair was disheveled, your makeup was all over the place, and your breath smelled like absolute ass. “I’m sorry for um… Causing so much trouble last night, that’s kind of rude of me.”

Jake shook his head, rubbing the nape of his neck. “No, I should be the one apologizing after all… That.”

Upon his last word, the two of you fell silent and numb. “I think we should talk about that.”

Jake immediately agrees, placing the pan on the sink. “We really should.”

You make your way over to the table after he insisted, getting you a plate of your own. The two of you ate in silence for a little while, the words hanging upon your tongue but never fully letting loose.

That was until Jake speaks up, breaking the ice. “What do you want to happen with this?”

You halt the piece of pancake you were just about to bite, “With what?”

Jake shrugs, putting his utensils down. “With this whole thing that happened between us. You remember it too, right?”

You did. The whole entire night. As clear as day.

“Just… Parts of it, I guess.”

Jake nods, though you can tell from the look on his eyes that he wasn’t having it. “Y/N, to be frank with you— I’m not looking for anything serious. I’ve told you that before, right? I don’t do girlfriends, just—”

“One night stands. You’ve mentioned, yeah.”

It wasn’t such a hard pill to swallow, really.

“Right. Just wish this didn’t get your hopes up on anything or what.”

You raise a brow, feeling rather pissed off at what he’d just said. You? Hanging on his thread? He was absolutely correct. But to hear it straight up from him was brutal and quite frankly, bruised your ego. “Trust me, I don’t get my hopes up over things like these–” you take a bite out of the bacon, “takes too much time and trouble.”

Jake grins, unaware of your bitterness towards the matter. Instead, he felt glad you supposedly feel the same way. “Glad we’re on the same wavelength. So, what’s your choice gonna be?”

“My choice?” Jake nods, “We can pretend this never happened or we can… Continue if you’d like.”

The way the word continue rolls off his tongue

felt odd. “Continue?” You clarify, “as in- you’d want to continue this fuck and run thing?”

It wouldn’t necessarily be forced in your end, but damn.

Jake shrugs. “Admit it, you and I both get a good fuck. It’s a win-win situation.”

Sim Jaeyun was more heartless than you’d thought of him to be. Then again, you half expected this to happen. “And? If we continue this… Whatever this is— where in the hell do we even draw the line?”

You bet you’ll catch feelings first.

“Catching feelings is where we draw the line. You know? Typical friends with benefits type of scenario.”

Typical friends with benefits type of scenario.

Something tells you Jake has pulled this exact script plenty of times before, like the lines he’d said over at the tattoo shop. Not necessarily programmed— but it was expected of him to say… That.

You ponder over his words.

And Jake merely eyes you.

You could refuse right now and tell him that— no, you absolutely cannot risk where he begins to draw the line because for you, crossing it was fatal trouble. You’re never one to catch feelings very quickly, but sooner or later, when this goes on, you know very will you will.

Jake is the epitome of everything your ex wasn’t.

The complete opposite.

Just your type.

So how in the world were you going to assure yourself you weren’t going to fall for him?

It was half and half, really.

But the moment you came back for your second tattoo, you knew full well what you were getting yourself into.

It was fucking dangerous.

And it was a risk you were more than willing to take.

“I mean, why not? Harmless hookups here and there wouldn’t be so bad.” it was more so of you trying to convince yourself rather than Jake. But the latter agreed to your sentiment, saying, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Y/N.” the tiniest, but snarkiest grin appearing onto his features. “We’re playing with fire, and its dangerous.”

“So do I. But here I am anyway.”

~~~~~~

Following the rather… Eventful incident over at Jake’s place, he drops you off over to your place as an apology to what happened the previous nights. Checking your phone hours later, you find that Heeseung’s been riddling you with calls and endless drunk texts as to wherever the hell you’ve gone off to.

11:30 PM.

Seungie: where tf r u???

Seungie: …. im serious beuh UGH i canr do dis rn im dancinf w some randok gurl and she smeels like shit 💩

Seungie: kind of smellsnlike u lol

Seungie: lolololol

1 AM

Seungie: hope u fgot laid or smthn lol i gor scolwdwd by sunghoon dor reeking like alcogool hahaha 🤣🤣

Seungie: i feel SOOOO ELEVATED RIGHT NOWWWW!! WOOOOOO!

1:30 AM

Seungie: beatch how tf r u like u got laid THAT good to be ignoring my calls n shi???

Seungie: bruh

9:47 AM

Seungie: hey i just woke up, i got so wasted last night. lol ignore the weird ass messages

Seungie: Y/N are you okay? please reply omfg i’m sorry i wasn’t able to guard you properly last night

Seungie: not that it was my responsibility or what but

10:30 AM

Seungie: now i’m seriously getting worried, where the hell are you?

Seungie: please reply back, your location says you’re not at your home right now???

11:00 AM

You: Omg Hee, Cafe. In ten minutes. Get dressed. I have so much to fucking spill.

11:05 AM

Seungie: WHAT THE FUCK

Seungie: FINALLY I THOUGHT YOU GOT LIKE KIDNAPPED OR SOMETHING

Seungie: ALSO WHAT YOU CANT BE MAKING PLANS SO FAST

You: Just did.

Seungie: What are we wearing?

You: im in my pajamas bruh

Twenty minutes after your said conversation with a very worried Heeseung, you swiftly made your way over to the cafe you saw randomly on the way to work. It looked nice and aesthetically pleasing, a small run down coffee shop owned by a few college students.

Heeseung arrived shortly after, quite literally embracing you until you can’t breathe anymore. That’s how much he was worried and scared.

“I thought you got like kidnapped or something.”

He mumbles, apologizing for the way he swore to take responsibility of you, only to get lost in the crowd minutes after. “After promising me you’d like— guard me or something like that.” You roll your eyes, sitting down across from Heeseung. Your drinks arrived, and he looked somewhat guilty, eyes avoiding yours. “Got too lost with the ladies.”

“With the ladies my ass.”

“Enough of that, what the heck are you going to tell me anyways? Come on, give me some credit for being worried sick.”

Another roll of eyes came his way. You had to hand it to him, though. Thirty missed calls and like- a spam of messages throughout the night. Despite being wasted and all that, he really was worried.

“So… Remember Jake?”

“The hot tattoo artist you fawned over? Yeah. What about him?”

“I fucked him.”

“Your left middle finger or right?”

“No— as in— I fucked him.”

“Yeah, and I’m asking whether—“ and then, Heeseung stops. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” He was an edge away from spilling his coffee all over the place, standing abruptly. “You did— WHAT now?”

Stoic and composed, you sipped on your drink. “He was at the bar last night, we danced, we made out in the bathroom, and we… Did the thing in his car.”

“You are not serious right now.” Heeseung slowly sinks back to his seat, “You are absolutely not serious right now.” he was in total disbelief. You did not aid to his surprise though, shrugging your shoulders and leaning back against the wooden chair. “I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t. I literally feel like my heart is like pumping way more blood than it’s supposed to be.”

“There’s a term for that, medical student.”

“Sinus Tachycardia.”

“Thank you smarty pants— do you-” Heeseung shifts in his seat, “do you like regret what you’ve done? Also, are you on the pill and is he clean?”

His questions came gunshotting in.

“No. Yes, and yes.”

“Do you like him? Or do you just want to have fun with him? He’s attractive but he looks like he’s a playboy.”

You confirm Heeseung’s statement, saying, “he’s more than that. I bet he’s had like a hundred girls up in his alley before.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“It’s not that I don’t mind, it’s just that—”

Heeseung beats you to it, “It’s just that you want to play this game with him, am I right? He’s probably offering you the spot of like, I don’t know— fuck buddies or something.”

“You know what? That’s exactly what he said.” You point to him, gaping your mouth as if he’d just solve the biggest mystery in the world. Heeseung shrugs, “see? You absolutely wouldn’t mind getting fooled by this man. I cannot blame you though.”

“Right?” he sips on his drink dramatically, setting it down. Then, he crossed his legs over the other and meticulously intertwined his fingers like some sort of diva. A freaking dork stuck inside a hot body.

“You are getting yourself in a very sticky situation, missy.”

“Okay, you sound like my dad right now.”

“But you know full well I’m right.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

He pinched the bridge of his noise, still in that same poised manner, “it’s not the first time you’ve pulled this shit, so I guess go for it.”

“Wow, real supportive.” the two of you simultaneously roll your eyes at the back of your head, chuckling at the sudden coincidence as Heeseung spoke, “just be careful.”

“Can’t promise you that.”

“Of course you can’t.”

~~~~~~

The days following your unfortunate incident with Jake— you discerned one very unsettling thing.

You were well aware you go to the same university as him, as he mentioned previously. It always gnawed at the back of your head, but obviously, the department of his course differed and his line of field was over at the other building, not here. Never here.

So chances of bumping into him were low. Or so you thought.

But oddly enough, you’ve been seeing him more than usual. As in— he’s just always somehow appearing out of nowhere. Often with perhaps a friend named Sunghoon who you shared a class with at Anatomy and Physiology. Note that he shared a common mutual with Heeseung, much to your surprise.

A small world, you were beginning to think he was doing it on purpose, waiting for Sunghoon to finish his classes (you were on the same few class), and deliberately hanging by, leaning against that same wall with his arms crossed as if he hadn’t just done the most sinful thing days prior.

Like right now. Moments after you’ve left the lecture hall, you were half expecting this to happen. Sim Jaeyun, leaning against a pillar a few distances away from the room, headphones on his ear as he sucked on a lollipop. The sweet treat caught your attention, eyes observing the way his to gue swirled around the candy.

Wow, that’s so… Hot.

You knew Jake had a distinct sense of fashion, matching yours in a way that made it look like you dressed together. But god, seeing him with no contact made warm things appear down the pits of your stomach. It wasn’t helping you weren’t reaching out to him at all these past few days.

The man names Sunghoon eventually appeared from the door, nearing Jake and greeting him. He returned the favor, momentarily locking eyes with you— intentionally.

He grins.

You grin back.

His left hand holds the stick of the treat, swirling his tongue around the strawberry flavor.

And that absolutely does it for you.

~~~~~~

You’ve pictured yourself in this scenario plenty of times before.

It seemed it was going to become an occasional thing now.

You, wrapped in the silky sheets of Jake’s blankets, your body bare and exposed to his touch alone. He wasn’t touching you now, though, the scent of cherry flavored air unveiling from his mouth. You hardly knew he vaped, but now here you were, leaning against his bed’s frame, watching the way he neared the lip of the vape to his mouth, then releasing that breath of air so nonchalantly and unfazed.

Jake merely stared at the ceiling as you stared at him.

His chest flexed upon your cold fingers touching it, sculpting and tracing part of his well defined abs. He chuckles, “What? Another round so suddenly?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m just touching you, is that so wrong?” Jake shook his head, tilting his head over to your direction and releasing the cherry flavored air straight to your face. Normally, you’d consider it as rude, but when Jake does it, something about the deed felt so hot and attractive. “You’re not helping when you touch me like that.”

And once more, something builds up down the pits of your stomach.

Jake feels this. He knows. And he acts upon it, lifting his leg, raking it across as he hovered above you with ease.

He neared his head, lips ghosting over your plump lips.

“Let’s try something new, yeah?”

~~~~~~
It goes on for a month.

The routine goes as follows: You make some sort of eye contact with Jake at the hallway, when classes end, he either goes to your place or you go to his. An endless cycle of quite literally fucking and playing around.

A terrible habit you’ve garnered from Jake was the act of vaping. When he comes over, a guilty pleasure of yours was to puff from his pod, enjoying it as much as he did, especially when the flavors differed.

Sometimes it was cola, sometimes mint, sometimes even coffee flavored.

His vape was as addicting as him.

And it wasn’t long before Heeseung began to notice the particular change in habit. It’s not that you’ve fallen off of your arrangement of studying, going to work, and generally— being the goody-two-shoes you’ve always been. Something’s definitely shifted, though.

Seungie: lemme guess, ur sleeping w jake again

You: how’d u know. lol

Seungie: i can SMELL his disgusting ass vape from here, dont lie, ik you’ve been doing the same

You: am not.

Seungie: i literally smell you at work, no point in denying

You: …

You: okay fine. dont scold me.

Seungie: wasnt planning to, ur an adult i think u know what ure doing w ur life bae

Seungie: but just incase u need like advice, maybe pull out from your situation while its still early.

Seungie: your eyebags are so visible now, i feel like youre STRESSED with this man

You: kind of. he’s been keeping me up until god knows what time

Seungie: your quiz results?

You: still passing them.

Seungie: submissions?

You: still on time.

Seungie: okay. thats good, text me when u need something, ‘kay? i’m coming over to kaiza

You: okay so the two of you are at THAT stage now

Seungie: ;))

You: creepy.

The message ends there, you giggled like fool as Heeseung reacts to your message with a smirk. It seemed like you were not the only one moving things on your end.

However, unbeknownst to you, a frowning Jake hovered besde you, clutching his vape with much more force than intended. His hand grasped your phone swiftly, turning it off and placing it down your bedside table.

“Hey! What was that for!” You frown, attempting to reach for your phone only for Jake to have you pinned down with his strong and muscular arms. “I wasn’t informed your time spent with me would be shared by someone else.”

The latter part of his statement felt forced, strained even. You don’t fail to notice the way he grinds his teeth ever so slightly. “I was just texting Heeseung!” you counter, feeling the slightest hint of idea coming into play.

Jake rolled his eyes, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. His head stood a good distance away from you, but you could feel his willingness and urge to absolutely pound and devour you this very moment. Again. “And you’re with me right now.”

You couldn’t sense if he was just greedy or if he felt a bit of jealousy for the man. “I don’t think it’s right to be putting your attention on him—” Jake breathed in the scent of your nape, “rather than me?”

And the rest was practically history.

~~~~~~

It goes on for two months.

Jake’s made it clear anything personal will never get into matters like this.

And he’s done a pretty good job at keeping his word. The everlasting silence, glances, and hint everytime you passed each other down the hallway was enough of an indication that he wants this as much as you do. But never enough. You feel as though you’d want him so bad things may overflow, but for him— it felt like it was just alright. Never truly enough on his end.

Today marks the second month mark of your hookup with the man. He’d left your apartment just minutes prior with no word beforehand, during, or even after.

He really was just there to fuck the living shits out of you.

And it hurt too.

You thought as you stared at yourself through your bathroom’s mirror, fingers lightly grazing the hickeys he left splattered all around the neck, now turning purple. You’d have to wear a turtleneck to school tomorrow, but for now, you had bigger things to worry about. The marks were the least of your concern.

You don’t know what to make of it, don’t know what to assert of Jake’s actions towards you. He was crude when it came to sex, but the gentle touches were there. The aftercare was there. The love in his eyes at times felt like it was there. Everything a boyfriend should be doing, but he was not such.

And it hurt.

~~~~~~

The mark stretched on for three more months.

Eventually, the warm breeze had long dissipated and you were greeted with the winter snow. You had to start wrapping yourself up in multiple layers now as you went to work. As for your course, you had a few more months before you finished your pre-medical program. If granted the opportunity, your next stop would be to actually pursue the real deal.

Now?

The months felt like they were bearing more days by the second, too slow to halt at Christmas, the long awaited break simply being too slow.

An old record player sits idly atop the counter of the registrar.

The sound of ‘Come and Get Your Love’ by Redbone plays along, one of Heeseung’s personal picks for today’s tedious shift. He sways his body along the rhythm of the music to keep himself at bay from the intense heat the summer was bringing along.

He’s in a pretty good mood today, sipping a green apple flavored slushie despite the weather already being so cold.

“What got you so jumpy today?” You ask with a snort, shoving a box inside one if the counters. “Baby ‘cause you’re mine and you’re fine~” he does one of his obnoxiously good footworks, moonwalking owards you. Once face to face, he pulls something out from his pocket, showing you a picture of Kaiza.

“And you— look so divine!”

You roll your eyes, “Come and get your love!” swaying along with his antics despite not truly syncing with the beat. “Let me guess!” you say in between the music, “you asked her to be your girlfriend? And she said yes?”

“Correct! That’s why you gotta let me celebrate this.”

Another snort came down Heeseung’s way. He was always oddly energetic when something good happens, but you didn’t expect they’d move forward much better than expected. Way better than your stupid excuse of a relationship.

He sings along until the music is down, and eventually, he spoke, “I heard the engineering department is holding one of their annual music festivals again next Saturday.”

It was a particular Monday, the beginning of the weak already making you feel so weak.

“You down to go?”

“Yep. They got the best organized any department could have.”

Usually, each departments creates a festival or some sort of event all together as a final bang for the last semester. The engineering department upholds one of the best ones, if not the best— inviting big time artists and creating booths that are actually affordable and fun to buy from.

You attend the festival every year.

“You sure? For sure your ex is gonna be there.” Heeseung grabs classic vinyl record, placing it inside the player. Killing Me Softly.

Your ex, Doyun. The stupid fucker who cheated on you, happened to be one of the students in the very same department. He’s in a band, one of the overglorified ones at his department. A vocalist and a guitarist that’s simply too cocky for his own good.

You shrug, playing it off. “Not a big deal.” Hell, you might even see your sorry excuse of a best friend over at the festival. But it wasn’t anything to you now. If anything, it gave you all the more of a reason to not trust people.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,

Singing my life with his words.

“Heeseung, are you intentionally doing this right now?”

Heeseung grinned, “hey, the lyrics just happened to match up!”

You seriously want to skin this man alive.

“Ugh. Just organize the damn piles, please, before I hit you in the face.”

Killing me softly with his song.

Killing me softly… With his song.

~~~~~~

One of the things you realized during your whole agreement with Jake: you’ve never gotten his phone number.

You don’t know how in the world the two of you managed to keep a few months of hookup without communication, but it must be some sort of talent because you were only realizing it now.

Jake’s presence stopped showing up after your class to pick Sunghoon up for the rest of the week.

Last week, it was three days of the week; his usual.

Now, there was barely anything.

It was probably how you noticed the sudden absence of communication the two of you actually had in the real world. Simply being too engrossed in the bedroom to even think about texting. But somehow, it seemed to work so smoothly. The subtle glances, the cues— all of them were more than enough to act upon.

You watch as a mindless Sunghoon pops out of the class, walking along the hallway with no one by his side.

It was Friday now.

It seemed you weren’t going to get a glimpse of Jake anytime soon.

~~~~~~

The weekend was overbearing, spent on the couch munching away junk foods and watching your favorite seriouss— seriously hoping Jake would magically appear. Even if it meant him asking for sexual intercouse straight away.

Yet nothing came.

Monday came hitting again like a truck, and after a stressful class at one if your most disliked subjects— Physics, something td you it was a sign. A positive sign.

So when the bell rang and Sunghoon came out, you half-expected something. Anything to prove your jittering heart and brain.

But when you see nothing, all you do is heave out a sigh.

“Are you waiting for Jake?” Sunghoon spoke much to your surprise, strapping his bag to his back. Stunned, you turn around and said, “What?”

“I said are you waiting for Jake?”

You think about it for a second, whether or not this man is someone you could trust. Though eventually, “Ah— yeah. You know where he is?” you cave in. Sunghoon shrugs, “you’re the girl screaming his name out in his bedroom at twelve midnight am I right?”

God. You’ve never ran towards someone so fast, almost stumbling him back as you covered his mouth with your hand. What a ridiculously honest man! “You don’t say things like that in public!”

Sunghoon raised a brow, prying your hand off his mouth. “And I’ve told Jake plenty of times to keep the weird noises down especially during my quizzes and exams, but here we are.”

“What?”

Jake never told you that.

“You guys are roommates?”

Sunghoon nods his head, “Obviously? Besides, it’s already pretty obvious. You guys are fucking noisy as hell.” You can feel the frustration in Sunghoon’s voice, and you couldn’t really blame him, in all honesty. But had you known Sunghoon was there during your… Funny businesses, you would’ve kept things down.

Sheepishly, you scratch the nape of your neck and avoid his gaze. “Sorry, I— didn’t really know…”

Sunghon shrugs, “It’s a disturbance but whatever. I’ll ask again— are you looking for Jake?”

You nod.

You’ve never deemed Sunghoon to be so straight to the point and strict given that he always sat himself at the back of the class and hardly spoke. But it felt like you were being scolded by your father.

“If it answers your questions, I haven’t been seeing him much at the dorm as of late. He’s been going home much later than usual, not sure about his classes though I’m sure he still attends.”

You try and take in all of what he’s saying— in the fucking name of Jake!

“He might be preoccupied with things at his tattoo job or something, or like doing something odd like he usually does.”

Something odd?

“What odd thing exactly if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sunghoon shrugs, “hooking up with random girls, things like that.”

Oh.

Oh.

The man seemed to sense your sudden change of mood, as he shifts around uncomfortably, piecing together what to say. “Just ask him yourself, it’d be better that way.”

There was silence.

Until Sunghoon exasperatedly sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t tell me you don’t have his contact?”

Another silence.

“Ugh. I cannot believe this,” he pulls out his phone, opening his contacts and handing you the number written on his screen. You swiftly took your phone out albeit haphzardly, typing in the letters so fast your fingers began to shake a bit. Once done, Sunghoon puts the phone back in his pocket.

Though it kind of pained you to be gaining access of Jake’s phone number not from the man himself, but from his friend- you chose to disregard the pride for now.

“I’m done, that’s all the help I can do.” Sunghoon turns around, waving one of his hand up, “Oh and if you patch that up— please keep the moans down otherwise I’ll kick both your asses out.”

God fucking dammit.

~~~~~~

The number, if anything— it scares you to death.

You’ve been staring at it for god knows how many hours now, memorizing it at some point as you fumbled to send out a message.

What would Jake even think of you sending out a, ‘hey Jake, this is Y/N. I was hoping to know when we can hookup soon?’

Frankly speaking, on your end, it would sound possesive, obsessed even, given the fact that his number came from not Jake himself but from his friend.

Your fingers were inches away from touching the send button.

Until, eventually, it stopped.

Yeah. It wouldn’t make sense. You weren’t his girlfriend or anything.

~~~~~~

You were beginning to think nothing ever happened between the two of you.

The second week of December, the third month of your hookup is the mark, the remembrance that this, this is exactly where everything started.

Yet as abrupt as everything came to be, things ended way too soon the very same way.

That particular Wednesday, you visited the tattoo shop in hopes of getting a, ‘tattoo’ from none other than Jake.

Kaiza said he wasn’t there and refused to entertain anymore questions.

Came Friday and Heeseung was practically drilling holes into your back.

“Dude, you’ve been mopping around since the moment you entered, what’s up with you?”

No response.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N!” He snapped a finger in front of your face, bringing you back to harsh reality. You blinked, “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” reasoning it out. Heeseung wasn’t having any of it, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“I just know this is about Jake. What did he do this time?” You sigh, knowing there was no point in arguing. “This is stupid. Fucking stupid.”

“What is?”

The odd urge to spill everything came down, and before you knew it, you were telling Heeseung the whole story. How you expected for him to at least reach out, how he disappeared without so much of a trace, how you had to go to Sunghoon to ask about him, how you went to the tattoo shop.

Heeseung listened earnestly, and when you were done, it felt like he was some sort of philosopher, thinking way too passionately for an answer.

“Ending it while it was early would have been the best option.” He starts off saying, “but given your… Maybe desire for him I’d say it’s understandable.”

You nod. “But if Jake’s acting like that… Well, it’s best to let it go. You can’t be the one chasing him after swearing to yourself you’ll play his game. That looks desperate, right? And that is so not you.”

It really isn’t.

“You have to show him you’re capable of living without that— whole fuck buddies thing, because you do have a life outside of him.”

If there was anything unbearable about Heeseung, it was his capabilities to become so freaking annoying. But if there was anything that you loved about him, it’s the fact that he cares. He knows, and he actually understands whatever the hell’s going through your brain.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he asked, you gave him the signal. “Why is that when Doyun you know— did that shitty ass thing, it affected you but from what I saw, it never really phased you as an individual?”

He was talking about the fact that following your breakup with the said man, all it took for you was a single tissue box and a few hours to get over him. As well as a much needed bar session and a couple of drinks. Now? You weren’t even hell-bent on taking a trip down the bar to have fun anymore.

“I think you know what I mean with what I’m saying, right?”

You nod, thinking of some sort of response.

The word traced itself down the tip of your tongue, the scary one, the absolutely forbidden word that you aren’t supposed to mention.

It’s been kept there for so long, refusing to be acknowledged by you. Yet at the same time, it was way too obvious, way too transparent to see that—

“It’s because I actually like him. I like Sim Jaeyun.”

~~~~~~

Saturday felt like a huge burst of energy pulsing through.

You plowed through your morning shift at the record shop that morning with Heeseung, and that evening, the two of you made your way over to the department’s festival. You assured Heeseung to enjoy his time with Kaiza, given that it was thsir first experience together and that you didn’t want to be a cockblock.

But god, you wish you hadn’t insisted that now.

Mixed between different bodies of sweat and people, despite it being less worse than a club, god you felt overstimulated with everything. A particular band was playing something at the stage, while people jammed along and jumped to their hearts’ content.

It was a vibrant event, if anything. You do remember this event being way more fun when you used to have a boyfriend to share the moment with.

Eventually, a new band enters the stage as the previous one finished, with only the endless muttering and cheering of the people coming into play.

And you recognized the band all too well.

“What an evening everyone! We are— daybreakers!”

You recognized that voice way too soon, too.

The crowd cheered, it was clear they were the fan favorite. It was for a moment only, but you saw the way the vocalist— god forbid you mention the name— had glanced over your direction, fingers strumming his electric guitar.

He knew you were there.

“Today, we’ll be playing a couple of songs for you all!” he says, hyping the crowd up. The crowd takes his bait, his band strumming along the tune of what sounded like— She Will Be Loved.

“I’ve had you so many times but somehow I want more—”

Your ass.

”And she will be loved.”

Loved or cheated on?

The song finishes, the head of your stupid ex lulling back and strumming the last notes of the song. You can’t help but roll your eyes. At least he still had the passion and the talent for this.

“This next song, I’m dedication to the person I’ve loved the most but was stupid enough to lose.”

The audience shouts a handful of, ‘awws.’

"Someone I truly love and want back— if you’re out there in the crowd—” he sighs.

“Y/N, this song is for you and I want you back.”

A complete shift of genre— the song ‘I Want You Back’ by 1969 plays. Your mouth was agape like a fish, processing the situation at hand.

You could tell from your peripheral vision that people who knew you or at least were from your peripheral point of view turned their heads around to look for you. You know Doyun saw you around, why bother to even mention your name if he hadn’t? And you’d safely assume him and your best friend didn’t quite work out given the fact that she wasn’t anywhere near the stage.

Served them right.

But goddamn you hated this fucking spotlight, the endless cheering as this man sang.

“When I had you to myself, I didn’t want you around, those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd.”

When Doyun looks over your direction, so does the crowd. Eventually, some were able to put a face to the name, with some even swaying around and calling it romantic.

Romantic your ass.

“Oh baby give me one more chance,” Doyun jumps down from the small stage, walking towards the center of the crowd. Like acting on command, the audience makes way for the man, “Won’t you please let me back in your heart?”

He stood before you now. Doyun, the same man you’ve come to love and cherish for years, serenading you with this song. It wasn’t romantic on your end, just purely laughable and pathetic even.

All the while, you pondered if Jake ever attended these events and if he was seeing this right now. God, you hope he wasn’t. You really, really, really do.

“Oh darlin’ I was blind to let you go, but now since I see you in his arms—” Doyun hands out a singlr rose, “Will you let me in again?”

Everyone chimed like it was their last performance on earth, like it was the very first serenade they’ve heard. If only they knew the boiling rage you had for this man, if only they knew how much he really acted off stage.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes locking onto his persistent ones.

Then, you took his microphone without permission, shouting—

“Fuck no.”

~~~~~~

Sunday was a lost of control for everything.

You went home that evening, the entire performance of a single man dampening your mood more than you’d like to admit. Heeseung bombarded you with messages, but you responded with a mere, ‘let’s talk about it next time, I’m exhausted’

And he seemed to take the hint, laying off for the rest of the night.

Sunday morning you find yourself up in your living room, contemplating whether or not you should text Jake and ask him how he’s doing or worst case— if he wants to hook up again.

But you don’t.

Sunday afternoon, by some odd circumstance, your feet dragged you along the heavy pavement and you find yourself back to square one— Tatts.

It was gettung unbearable by now. The lost of him without so much as a word or a simple hint to his disappearance or whereabouts. Jake just vanished, or at least, from your sight.

You enter the shop, the dark room hitting you as a welcome. It was a different person at the counter now, and much to your surprise, he gladly let you took Jake as the tattoo artist.

Jake.

Just thinking about his name and seeing him again made your head hurt but your heart excited at the same time. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

The man opened the curtains, only to see Jake like the second time you saw him— playing games on his phone with not so much as a care in the world. He didn’t see you yet, too preocuppied with his business as he spoke, “it’s a Sunday, why’s there a client–” then he looked up from his phone screen, only to halt his words and stare in utter shock.

You stared at him, not uttering a single word.

He stares back.

From anyone’s point of view, they’d assume he looked stoic and unfazed. But you know. You just know he was surprised to see you, just as much as you were.

“Ah. I see. Thanks.” Jake nods toward the man who left you with your business, and you hesitantly went inside his booth with clammy hands. With not so much as a word, Jake stood up and started doing his usual routine of preparing the things he needed. He was silent all the while, and you attempted to collect your thoughts until eventually, you spoke, “are you avoiding me?”

There was a pause, then he says, “avoiding you? Why would I do that?”

But his back was turned to you, and the way he spoke was monotone, devoid of emotion. “You haven’t been… Reaching out these past two weeks.”

“Is that something to be concerned about? Aren’t we just doing this for the fun of it?”

His words hit you like a truck coming in at full speed.

“Besides, what makes you think we’d be on that stage after a few good fuck sessions?” Jake turns to you. Through mixed emotions and albeit it being difficult, you tried and gauged his emotions and expressions.

“Not sure if you’re well aware but you really should be. We’re nothing more than mere hookup sessions.”

You feel a huge sting prick you through your chest, “then why aren’t you asking for a hookup these past few weeks?”

God, you felt and looked so desperate but it didn’t matter now.

Jake seethed, straightfroward, concise, and unattached— “because I simply don’t want to.”

He sat down at the small chair, you weren’t one to give it up easily. Given the fact that his head was down and he was absolutely avoiding making eye contact with you— the smallest hope for emotion or at least something more sparked within you.

“But I want to. What are we supposed to do when it’s me who wants it?”

Jake stays silent for a moment so you continue, “why is it that when you’re that one that wants it we should play along but when it’s me, it should be pushed aside?”

You turned to Jake, fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt. “Why is it that when I ask for something you refuse?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“It’s not fair Jake! Then you should’ve told me in the first place this whole thing was one-sided. I would have never agreed then!”

The desperation in your tone was evident, pieces of emotion crumbling down like a tall wall. You wanted him to talk to you, tell you what’s wrong, tell you that this whole entire thing which was completely his idea is worth fighting for.

Because frankly speaking, you don’t want to fight for it anymore.

Jake merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he says, “what tattoo and where?”

God fucking dammit.

“Are you even listening to me Jake?!”

He doesn’t speak.

As frustration bubbles up in your throat, your fingers finally caved in as they touched Sim Jaeyun’s chin, tilting it up ever so slightly to finally see the expression hidden beneath his covered face.

Sim Jaeyun’s eyes— they were tainted with desperation and pain. His orbs glossed, indicating that he probably wants to cry or at least he tried not to.

You’ve never seen him like this before.

“Are you— are you okay?” you muster, but Jake was quick to remove your hands from him as he ruffled his golden hair in attempt to calm himself down. “I’m fucking fine.” he seethes.

“Jake, no you aren’t. You aren’t fine. Tell me what’s wrong—” he cuts you off harshly, “I told you, I’m fine. Stop it.”

“Please. Please just tell me."

“I can’t.” Jake choked through.

”But why?”

“I can’t tell you anything. We’re nothing, remember? Fucking nothing.”

And then, unbeknownst to you, the words spilled— “We don’t have to be. Why do we keep pretending like we’re nothing? I just like you Jake— I really like you.” you push a little louder, a little more desperate, “can’t we act up on those emotions?”

Every pent up emotion came crashing through, and oddly enough, you find yourself crying despite swearing you would never do so again in front of a man. But those two weeks felt like they were the longest weeks of your life, trapped between endless classes and just wanting to see Jake somehow.

Jake understands why you’re crying. Panicked, he took a tissue and handed it to you. You weren’t taking it, letting the tears free fall as you stared at him with determined eyes. Jake however, took matters into his own hands and started wiping the tears off your face, cooing and telling you to stop crying.

“Don’t cry like that.” He whispers, but his tone was contradicting. “Like what?”

“Like that. I can’t bear it. I fucking can’t– shit.”

“Bear what, Jake? Your dislike towards me? Your hatred? Please just tell me now cause—”

Without any word, Jake quickly shuts you up by kissing you. His head was way too fast, pressing his plump lips against yours in a passionate and desperate kiss. Your eyes were wide, but you kept your composure, closing your eyes and feeling the sensation at hand.

It was just a kiss, and as Jake pulled back with a breathless sigh, he kept his eyes glued to yours, and his fingers intertwined with the strands of your hair.

“I can’t bear this. God, I can’t bear you.”

“Why?”

“It’s because I fucking like you too, goddamit. I was scared to acknowledge that, I was scared I’d get attached too much and—”

You pressed your lips against his again, shutting him off this time.

Then, you pulled back, a huge grin on your features.

“We can try. We can try this time.”

~~~~~~

“Butter… Butter, where’s the damn butter.”

7:30 AM Monday morning, the sun’s rays spark through the curtains as you cooked breakfast for two with nothing but Jake’s t-shirt on you which was twice his size.

The morning after the huge bursts of emotion, once the two of you finally calmed down, one thing led to another and eventually, you find yourself in your apartment, preparing breakfast for you and him.

You swiftly cooked up just a simple meal for the two of you, eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Perhaps you’d see to it to tease him later of what this meal reminded him off.

The thought of it made you grin.

Everything felt like it was falling back to place with Jake finally in your arms, and no more denying of what you actually feel for him, and what he feels for you.

As you flip through another pancake, a pair of arms came wrapping around the small of your waist, enclosing you in a tight hug. Something heavy sits atop your shoulder, followed by small kisses leading up to the nape of your neck.

“Mmh. Good morning baby…” Jake greets with a raspy voice, still peppering kisses. You smile, taking the pancake off the pan and putting it on the plate. “Good morning.” you greet him.

Jake stays silent for a little while, keeping his eyes glued to your cooking and never once letting go of his arms on your waist. This feels… Homey, somehow. Like the two of you are a married couple experiencing an average day together.

“That’s what we ate when I asked you to be fuck budddies.” you laugh, nodding along. Guess it wasn’t too much of a tease for him, then. “Yes, I’m making it again as a remembrance.”

“Remembrance?” Jake whispers, and without warning, he easily slips his fingers beneath your– his t-shirt, his hands coming into contact with your bare stomach. He started rubbing circles, until eventually, he asked, “can I?”

With a nod, Jake pressed his large hands farther up your body, reaching the spot just below your boobs. He caressed that too, gauging your reaction. You bit your lip, trying to show that it wasn’t affecting you, but when Jake inches further and caressed your nipples this time, you couldn’t help but shift slightly.

“What— what’re you doing?” You ask, but Jake didn’t respond, twiddling your nipples with his fingertips all the more. Suddenly, you feel something prod your butt, something sharp and hard. “Jake are you hard?”

”Mmh. Sorry baby, can we solve this for a minute?”

He mutters beneath your breath, the growing hardnesd on his dick very evident, pressing against your barely covered area. “Aren’t you tired from last night?” you ask, though if anything, what you had last night was nothing compared to past hookups. Filled with love and passion— not being driven by lust and power is something you never knew you needed until now, and also something you never knew Jake was capable of giving.

“I’ve charged up plenty, what about you?”

You smile. “Mmh. I guess we can give one shot, I’ll just finish these up.” You say, but before you even had the chance to finish the last batch of food, Jake turns you around, turning off the power from the stove and pinning you slightly to the left where a counter resides. He traps you with both his arms, never separating his lips from your neck. “I’d rather have you as my breakfast, that okay?”

“It’s okay, but—” with not another word, Jake sucked on a particularly sensitive spot just below your neck. You couldn’t help but wince, fingers grazing his bicep as you attempted to keep yourself still. Jake parts from your neck, licking the bottom of his tongue and grinning at you innocently, “you’re so sweet, baby…”

His kisses travelled down from your neck to your collarbone, biting the the bone ever so slightly. It seemed he loves biting as much as he loves making out.

“Stop biting me…” you giggle, feeling all too ticklish with his touch. Jake smirked, biting that very same touch. “Like this baby?” you try and push him off, but Jake was far too strong, carrying you bridal style in a split second as he headed over to the couch.

Surprised, you hit him by the chest, “what’re you doing!”

Jake laughs, pecking the tip of your nose intimately. Then, he throws you gently at the couch, following suit and keeping his right leg at the edge of it, his left leg stabilizing him, and his arms locking you still. “Doing this.”

He dips his head down, intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss. He wasted no time letting his tongue roam your mouth— the hot, wet, smacking resonating around the room. Jake’s right hand find its way around the waistband of your shirt, lifting it up slightly to reveal your thin underwear. He quickly puts it aside, rubbing the clit gently.

You whimper beneath the kiss, parting from him slightly to huff and ruffle your fingers around his soft fluffy golden hair— so well taken of.

“Keep doing that, Jakey, mmh…”

Jake grins, rubbing the clit with much more pressure, “like this baby? Call me Jakey again one more time, yeah?”

So you do, whimpering his name like it was the most precious thing in the entire world. And perhaps it is.

Jake keeps his undivided attention on the way he pampers you, inserting his middle and ring finger in. You gape in surprise, disregarding the fact that your neighbors might hear the noise— but let them know for all you care.

“Don’t hold back, yeah?” Jake whispers, keeping his eyes glued to his fingers which scissored your throbbing cunt. God, you looked so fucking divine all splayed out for him like this. He keeps his pace relatively fast, your moans pouring out with each movement of his finger.

When you feel a particular coil boil down the pits of your stomach, Jake halts and licks his mouth clean. You whimper, complaining, “Why—"

But Jake quickly shuts you off with a kiss, pulling down his boxers as he did so and letting his already hard and erect cock spring free. He wastes no time, positioning his girthy length– the tip of it against your hole. “You ready?” he asks and once you nod, he slams it in full force.

The energy Jake had early in the morning is insane, pistoning his hips back and forth like it was the easiest thing to do in the entire world. He grips the edge of the sofa, keeping his movement stable in and out of your pussy. He hits a particularly sensitive spot, “Fuck— no, no, Jake!”

“W-what—” something squirts, hitting Jake’s abdomen. It was warm, liquidy, and as the rest of the juices coated his legs, your still throbbing cunt pulsed down and squeezed him. Jake couldn’t help but throw his head back, his hand reaching out to grasp and lock your hair within his fingertips. “Fuck, you didn’t tell me you could just do that.”

Jake kept his ballistic pace. “Yeah? Do that for me again, please? Hmm?”

He pulls his dick out in one languid movement, spinning you around so you kneeled at the couch, hands clutching the edge of the sofa tightly. Jake needs no further words, quickly inserting his cock inside your slippery cunt. He takes hold of your waist, leaning you back towards his chest.

Fuck. He’s good.

“Give me another one baby? Mmhhh— pretty please…” Jake was begging, but it didn’t feel desperate. Rather, it still felt like he was in full control, licking your neck and twisting his fingers down your clit all at the same time. He was eager, seeing you squirt all over him like a pretty little play toy.

Jake has never seen anything like it, god he’d kill the world just to see it again. You whimper, “I can’t— I—”

“You fucking can baby, come on, I’m close too.” He urged, hitting that same spot seconds prior, which caused you to moan and scream his name out as you orgasmed and gave him the squirt he’s been so longing for. The couch was dirtied, but Jake pays no particular mind, staring in awe at the way your pussy convulsed and the way you felt like putty around his hands.

“I’m close baby— I’m close…” Jake repeats like a broken record, the controlled movements becoming a bit more careless as he did so. Eventually, after a few more thrusts, Jake pulls out and let his cock squirt his juices down your back and to your ass.

He groans, palming the rest of the juices out while still keeping his other hand close and supported around your waist. You were exhausted, crashing down the dirtied sofa breathlessly.

Jake laughs, grabbing a piece of tissue to clean up the mess around your body.

“I’m sorry baby.” he apologizes, gently taking care of your body. You smile at him, holding his head and pecking his lips.

“You bastard.” you say as an offense.

But god, you loved him like this.

~~~~~~

Your first tattoo was a butterfly.

The second was the one Jake gave you. 
The third was taking you a little bit more time to decide.

As you lay on your comfortable bed with Jake wrapping his arms around you (grace the heavens for having the apartment all to yourself as you were too embarrassed to even face Sunghoon’s too honest mouth after that interaction), you realize that perhaps now is the time to mark another piece of ink on your body.

“Hmm. Would this look good?” You ask him, you were suddenly reminded of this moment months prior, when you were in your bed, deciding on a tattoo after a much needed breakup.

Now, you had someone by your side.

Jake laughed, pointing at your inspiration’s crevices, “the edges look odd, it’ll bleed after a few days. Trust me.”

You roll your eyes, somewhat being annoyed with the way Jake is always so specific with his tattoos. It made sense, though. You never saw him with much in his sleeve or anywhere in his body, contrary to stereotypes about tattoo artist.

“What should I get then?”

“I have this brilliant idea,” Jake pops the lollipop off his mouth, leaning slightly towards you, “let’s get a matchy one.”

You grin, the idea not so half bad. “Where should we get it?”

“Hmm. Wrist? Thigh? You decide, it’s my first tattoo.”

Or maybe he’s never had a tattoo at all.

“Really?”

Jake deadpans, “you’ve seen me naked hundreds of times, you of all people would know, baby.”

You laugh, “I kind of assumed you got one in like your ass or something, I barely see that.”

“I can flash you right now—” Jake attemps to stand up, perhaps flash you his ass in full glory but you quickly stop him, “stop! Stop! I don’t wanna see your ass! Let’s get a matching tattoo!”

Jake snorts, popping the sweet treat right back to his lips. He’d stop vaping now days after you started this. You wouldn’t call it dating, as he never really asked you out, but it wasn’t entirely nothing either. Perhaps between the line of being his girl, and his friend?

At least he isn’t ghosting you anymore.

“I’ll decide on what to get, baby. Give me a few days.”

“Bet.”

~~~~~~

handsometattooartist: I’ll pick you up in a bit, wear something nice.

You: Wow, is this the day you finally ask me out?

handsometattooartist: Just trust me, okay?

You: Are you going to kidnap me?

handsometattooartist: Maybe ;)

You: Whatever lol, what tattoo are we getting?

handsometattooartist: Trust me on that too.

You: It better not be a dick.

handsometattooartist: Awh. Too bad.

You: I swear to god. Fine. You better ask me out after this.

You grin at your phone, Jake doesn’t reply after. Days after your tattoo planning with him, it seemed Jake was a little bit more busier than normal due to his finals and activities piling up.

He doesn’t fail to update you, neither does he fail to treat you like his girlfriend.

So naturally, the need of becoming officially his was growing each second. As you stand in front of your vanity, contemplating which attire would be appropriate for perhaps a possible date, you realize, that you may actually be very well getting what you want by now.

With the thougt in mind, you grin and hurriedly made your way to prepare.

~~~~~~

You opted to dress in something a little bit casual.

A pair of denim jeans and red halter top, and kitten-heels sandals. An outfit that gives you both comfort and style at the same time. Something a little out if your all black comfort zone.

Eventually, the doorbell rang and you excitedly ran to open it. There, you saw Jake in his full glory, dressed in pinstripe pants and a maroon short sleeved open collar shirt which coordinated with your outfit coincidentally. His hair looked cleaner, styled in a side part. (the urge to gobble him up is insane)

Hell, if you weren’t going after this, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.

“You’re copying me.” you quip, but Jake rolls his eyes, “no, you are. Copycat.”

He laughs, extending an arm towards you. You took it, letting him lead you towards his car. “You look really pretty.”

Grinning, you extend your gratitude, careful enough to not let him see the massive smile forming on your face.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He opens the car door for you, the two of you eventually reaching the tattoo shop as it was only a couple of minutes away from your apartment. Kaiza was on her day off today, spending her time with Heeseung. Who greeted you at the counter was another employee.

She pays no mind to Jake as the two of you entered the booth and hs start setting things up.

“Give me your wrist.”

You follow his instructions.

“You decided on the wrist, after all?”

Jake nods, “do you trust me?” eyeing you with his gaze that screamed to be a mix of encouragement and perhaps anticipation all at the same time. You smile,

“Of course I do.”

~~~~~~

The pricking of the needles was nothing new to you, but it still stung a little everytime it happens.

Minutes pass and eventually, Jake finishes his own to compare with yours.

It was not as distinguishable— scratch that, it really isn’t noticeable at all that the implication of the tattoo is to match with. You half expected something rather cliché, like half a heart on your wrist, and another on his.

Instead, what you got on your left wrist was the smallest hint of Daiquiri, particularly the same drink, same bottle, and even same shape of ice you’d drunk back at the club before you got to dirty business with Jake.

And his?

The one he drank— his glass of Boulevardier. The exact detail of both drinks coming into play as the ink patches itself into your skin. You stare at it for a moment. Well, you don’t hate it. It’s good, you just thought it’d be more… Obvious.

“You don’t like it?” Jake asks blunty, to which you shook your head, saying, “no! I think it’s great, the detail you put into it is insane. It’s just that… You know, doesn’t feel like we’re matching, does that make sense?”

Jake stares at the tattoo, then back to you, then back to the tattoo, before he says, “I think it matches our story just fine, you know? It looks nice, don’t have to be too obvious about it.”

The detail he put into it is nice, but you couldn’t help but ponder whether or not he wants to hide this, or perhaps this was just a Jake thing. You couldn’t really tell.

Jake sensed the way you shifted around a tiny bit, staring at the ink embedded into your skin. He grins, lifting your chin up to give you a small peck on the lips.

“Don’t overthink it. I’ve got more planned.”

Jake keeps your attention away from the tattoo, holding your hand and leading you out and back to his car. The car ride is silent, usually the noise would be filled in by the music Jake plays. But this time, it was utterly quiet.

“You wanna play some music? Or…"

Jake nods, letting you pick the music from his phone. As you scroll through his music playlist, a sudden notification pops up on his phone. In a group chat named— party planner.

Heeseung: jake u better hurry tf up u, me and kaiza drank all the liquor u’ve got lol

Kaiza: is ur rizz not rizzing today? why u so slow

You tried ignoring it, picking a random song from the playlist and setting the phone down. Why did they have a random group chat together? Most especially, why were you not included?

He was unusually jittery, tapping his fingers against his legs or shaking it. “Are you okay?” you ask him, Jake looks at you and nods. “Yeah, ‘s fine.” but the smile on his face was anything to go by. You choose not to press, opting not to ruin the day by riddling it with useless overthinking.

Eventually, after an hour of so, you were met with the outskirts of the city, a beach that situated itself in the midst of the hustling and bustling of the urban streets. He leads you out of the car, the sunset hitting the rays of his parked car perfectly.

It was quiet, not a lot of people go to such placed especially when the city is everything they’ve dreamed of. But away from all that— leads you to somewhere more tranquil and relaxed. You hardly visited the beach, almost forgetting how the sun’s existence aligned perfectly with the sea and how the sand was more white unlike any other, and how the sea crashed with ease.

Jake typed something in his phone swiftly as he did so, then turning his attention back to you. It felt like he was some sort of secret agent, making sure you couldn’t take a glimpse of the conversation.

“You ready?” he asks, extending his hand out. You took it carefully, the two of you walked away from the sidewalk and into the white sand, some of its remnants getting stuck between your toe. The sunset aligned perfectly, the cold wind washed against your skin as a sort of greeting.

And much to your surprise, Jake leads you to a small gazebo situated at the beach, decorated with tons of colorful lights. Petals of flowers riddled around the exterior as well as the wooden floor beneath, heart balloons decorated all around, and a small table for two at the very middle of the gazebo.

The table was clothed white, and on top of it, laid tons of food, particularly the ones you liked and enjoyed and what you’ve shared to Jake the most. Two drinks as well— a glass of Daiquiri and Boulevardier.

You were in total awe, too busy staring at the set up Jake had prepared to even notice that Jake had already helped you sit down. He chuckled at your gaping mouth, “I wasn’t sure if you were a fan of… Beach dates.”

“Shit— you- you made all this?” you cover your mouth, still surprised. Jake shook his head, laughing. “I asked help from Kaiza and Heeseung, you must’ve seen the messages at the group chat earlier.”

Oh, so that’s what it was.

“I was restless the whole ride, Kaiza kept telling me Heeseung ate the whole entire food here as a joke. But it didn’t seem like a joke."

You laugh, “it would be something Heeseung would do, where are they now?”

“Probably frolicking around, who cares about them, yeah?” Jake quips, you laugh along with him. He really put a lot of effort into this. Jake hands you the glass of liquor, raising his own, “I figured since these were the two drinks we drank at the bar that time, we could toast to it.”

You raise your own drink, bumping it against his and swallowing it whole. The sweet, tangy, bitter taste hitting your throat, reminding you of that time at the bar. Jake then plates you some of the food he’d prepared, even the container and baskets had designs and cute little flowers riddled around it.

You took a bite out of the food, letting it accomodate your taste buds. “Wow— you even cooked this?”

Jake nods. He must’ve cooked all, it must’ve also taken a lot of time, effort, and money to be doing all this. You never deemed Sim Jaeyun to be much of a romantic, but now, here you were. Upon seeing your positive reaction, Jake smiled to himself and prepped his own food. “I know the tattoo may not be such a match as you’d hope for it to be, but for me, it’s kind of like a hidden code only the two of us would know.”

Only the two of you would know.

“And—” Jake holds your hand from across the table, kissing your knuckles gently. “I like it when our shared moments remain between us.”

You stay silent for a minute, basking in all of this and waiting for him to—

“We may not have started off in the best terms possible… And I was a complete jerk.”

“You are.”

“And you know how I work.”

“Sure as hell do.”

“But I’m not gonna let this go– I’m not letting you go so easily, Y/N.”

Jake stands up, inching closer to you.

He holds your shoulder close as you sat, his fingertips travelling to your supple cheeks. On instinct, your legs straightened to you leveled Jake’s gaze.

“Does this mean I get all the tattoos I want for free?”

Jake chuckles, pecking your forehead, your eyes, your nose— then finally, your lips.

“All the tattoo’s you’d want in the world."

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

[kiwriteswords]

Wilted, Yet Wonderful [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Florist!Reader Masterlist|| Main Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 2.3k|| AN:  I am in the midst of the craziest week of my professional life and needed to finish this because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it! Tags/Warnings: mentions of wine, alcohol consumption, Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, pre-relationship, pre-established relationship, Sassy!Reader, Flirty!Reader, first dates, flirting, pining, fluff, pure fluff honestly Summary: Everything was set up for a perfect first date: the perfect dress, the perfect man, the perfect pairing...except the perfect schedule.

The thing about Aaron Hotchner was that he didn’t do anything impulsively.

Which made the way he kept “finding reasons” to stop by your shop all the more suspicious.

First, it was Jack’s teacher’s birthday.

Then, a condolence bouquet for a neighbor.

A “just thinking of you” arrangement for Jessica.

At one point, he even ordered a “Congratulations on Your New Dog” bouquet, which you were ninety percent sure he made up.

And every time he walked in--

Stoic, devastating, tie a little loose, eyes a little soft--

You felt it.

That pull.

That inevitability.

You flirted. You teased. You played it cool.

But the truth was, you’d bought a new dress two weeks after the first “chance encounter.”

A little over the top.

A little more extravagant than necessary for a first date.

Still hanging on the back of your office door.

Waiting. 

Waiting to be worn. 

Waiting for him to finally ask.

It was a Thursday afternoon when it finally happened.

You were elbow-deep in a last-minute baby shower arrangement when the bell jingled, and you looked up, expecting another frantic client.

Instead--

Hotch.

Tie loosened. Jacket slung over his arm. Eyes darker than usual.

He crossed the floor with more purpose than usual, stopping just short of your workspace.

You arched a brow. “Forgot another fake dog birthday?”

He smiled--

Small, genuine. “No.”

You wiped your hands on a towel. “Then to what do I owe the honor?”

He hesitated. Just for a second. The kind of pause that meant something. Meant something for a man like Aaron Hotchner: calculated. 

Then he said, steady and low, “I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner.”

You froze, towel halfway across the counter.

Your heart did a weird, hiccuping thing in your chest.

You managed--barely--to keep your voice even.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The catch, of course, was this:

You were a florist. 

He was a federal agent.

And life, as it turned out, had other plans.

You cleared a Friday night. Even closed early.

Your hair? Perfect. That dress? To die for.

Five minutes before you locked up, a funeral home called.

Emergency casket spray needed. Tonight.

You guessed there really was some weight to the “to die for dress” since someone really had to die before you could even wear it!

You texted him, fingers flying: I’m so sorry. I have to save a funeral. Rain check?

Hotch replied almost immediately: Of course. Go save the day.

You melted a little. Okay. Not dead yet. (No pun intended.) 

New plan: Sunday brunch.

You pulled the dress out. Smoothed it. Stared at it like it owed you money. At this point you did. And a goodnight kiss from those lips you just couldn;t keep thinking about. 

Twenty minutes before you were supposed to meet him--

Your shop’s phone rang.

Biggest wedding you’d booked all season?

Thousands and THOUSANDS of dollars hanging on this one? 

Canceled.

Needed every arrangement reworked into “congratulations on the divorce” bouquets. “Too bad you already got legally married before the big day, now you need a lawyer” arrangements.

You called Hotch, mortified.

He answered on the first ring.

“Go handle it,” he said, so gentle it made your throat burn.

Most men would have already written you off as uninterested, problematic, or too much to handle (rightfully so). 

Third time’s the charm, right?

Right? 

…right?

You rescheduled. Thursday night. You did your hair. Your makeup. Even slipped into the dress, heart hammering against the zipper.

Then your phone buzzed.

You didn’t even have to look.

This dress was bad luck, you assumed. 

Sure enough--

Hotch’s name.

A voicemail.

You pressed it to your ear.

“I’m so sorry. We caught a case out of state. Jack’s with Jess, and the jet leaves in twenty minutes. Rain check? Please? I want this. I just--"

You shut your eyes. Listened to the strain in his voice.

The honesty.

You texted back: Stay safe. I’m not going anywhere.

You weren’t. You really, really weren’t. 

You hadn’t felt butterflies like this in…in…well, ages. It had been so long, and something in your gut (which was annoyingly always right) told you that he was so worth it. 

So, the dress stayed on the hanger.

You walked around the shop that night barefoot, music low, half arranging, half daydreaming.

You thought about him--

Exhausted, fighting monsters across state lines.

And you thought about you--

Fighting your own quiet battles with petals and grief and celebration and apology.

You thought about how love--real love--wasn’t about perfect timing.

It was about showing up.

Even if you kept missing the mark.

Even if the universe threw every damn wrench it could find.

Because eventually?

You were going to meet in the middle.

It had been a day from hell.

The kind of day that made you seriously consider shutting off your neon OPEN sign and fleeing to some remote corner of Maine where no one would ever ask you for "something simple, like a dozen custom corsages" twenty minutes before their event started.

First, it was a man in khakis and a Bluetooth headset trying to mansplain carnation symbolism to you.

("Tacky," you muttered the second he left, slamming the register shut.)

Then, it was a woman with sharp nails and sharper words, complaining the "white" roses for her late husband’s memorial were "too cream-colored." (As if you could bleach the petals yourself.) 

You wanted to ask if the dead knew the difference between stark white, cream, and ivory. There was none! Not in flower-land. Maybe at the Home Depot picking out paint swatches, but not in garden roses.

Then, a six-year-old threw a full-blown war tantrum over bouquet ribbon colors, knocking over two display vases and turning the aisle into a slip-and-slide of glass and gerbera daisies.

And to top it all off?

A corporate client cancelled a $700 custom standing order after you'd already made it--

Costing you precious materials, time, and, arguably, pieces of your soul.

By mid-afternoon, your hands were cut and sticky from thorns and tape, your back ached, your head pounded, and your patience?

Nonexistent.

Gone. Out the freaking window!!

You were halfway through re-tying a sympathy bouquet (at this point, you needed a sympathy boquet) when your phone buzzed on the counter.

You sighed, ready to ignore it--

But the name flashing on the screen stopped you cold.

Aaron Hotchner. 

Your heart did a little stutter step in your chest.

You wiped your hands on your apron and answered, trying not to sound as drained as you felt.

“Hey, you,” you said, voice lighter already. Ah, there it was. The little beacon of peace he brought you. 

“Hey, yourself.” His voice was warm, low, steady. Like a hand on your back.

You leaned your hip against the counter, closing your eyes for a second. Just listening.

Rough day?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“The kind where you consider setting the shop on fire and starting over,” you deadpanned.

You could hear the faint smile in his voice when he said, “Need backup?”

“Only if you have a riot shield and a bottle of wine.”

There was a pause. A shift.

Then--

“I was calling to tell you,” he said, “I can see you tonight.”

You froze.

“What?”

“I’ll be back by seven. No cases. No cancellations. Nothing standing between us this time.”

You swallowed hard, heart hammering.

“I--” you laughed a little, breathless. Looking over to yourdress hanging in your backroom, “So, I have this dress.”

“You mentioned it once.” His voice got a little quieter. A little rougher. “You said it was a little much.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks heating. “It’s covered in sequins and flowers.”

There was a low, amused exhale through the phone, “That sounds very you.”

You smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear automatically. “You really want to see it?”

“I really want to see you.”

Your chest ached in the best way.

You leaned harder into the counter, as if your body needed the support against the sudden weight of happiness.

“I’ll make sure I’m there,” he said.

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

You closed your eyes, the tiredness in your body sinking a little, but the excitement thrumming harder.

You talked for a few more minutes--

Nothing urgent, nothing critical. 

Just… normal. Him asking if you’d eaten. You teasing him about his inability to distinguish between peonies and garden roses. Both of you dancing around how much you just wanted to be in the same room already.

When you hung up, the shop still smelled like roses and regret.

The vases were still broken.

The sympathy card still needed signing.

But it didn’t matter as much.

Because in the back room, on a hanger above your workbench, there was a dress waiting.

Sequins and silk.

Wild and beautiful.

Just like the way you felt when you thought about seeing him tonight.

And for the first time all day--

You smiled.

You still had chaos to deal with.

You had no business wearing the dress.

By the time you dragged yourself into the back room, every part of you ached--

Your lower back, your ankles, your wrists from tying bows too tight, your pride from one too many cranky customers.

But you’d made a promise.

You slipped the dress on slowly, sequins catching the overhead light like they were mocking you. It felt heavier than you remembered--

Maybe because your limbs were made of cement today. You pulled on your heels, gritting your teeth as your poor, abused feet screamed in protest.

At the mirror by your desk, you dabbed concealer under your eyes. It barely made a dent in the dark circles hollowing your face. So you swept some glitter across your eyelids too, because screw it, maybe they’d distract from everything else.

You looked at yourself for a long second.

And then laughed, a little breathless, a little defeated.

You looked like a raccoon who’d crashed a New Year’s Eve party.

Perfect.

The bell over the shop door jingled.

You didn’t even have the energy to call out. You just grabbed your purse and stumbled toward the front.

And there he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Leaning in the doorway like he had the weight of a thousand worlds on his shoulders. His dress shirt was rumpled, tie hanging loose around his neck, hair tousled like he'd run his hands through it a dozen times. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. He looked like someone had physically dragged him through the worst day imaginable.

You stopped short, blinking at each other.

Two poster children for a sleep aid commercial.

You snorted before you could help it.

He smiled, slow and genuine, like seeing you was the first good thing that had happened to him in days.

And then--

Hotch actually blinked, taking you in fully for the first time.

The dress.

The glitter.

The heels.

You shifted on your aching feet. “This was supposed to look..better.”

He shook his head, slow and certain. “You’re perfect.”

You scoffed, walking past him and locking the door behind you. “Liar.”

He grabbed your hand before you could turn back, lacing his fingers through yours with a firm squeeze.

“I mean it,” he said, voice low. And wow. Could you believe it. 

You turned to him fully, heart flipping over despite yourself.

“You look good too,” you said, grinning. “Very ‘FBI agent whose soul just left his body.’ It’s a strong aesthetic for you.”

He laughed under his breat--really laughed--and you felt his hand tighten around yours.

You tugged him toward the door. “Come on. I’m not wasting this dress on a bunch of dead hydrangeas.”

“Where are we going?” He looked at you confused, “I have reservations for us at that tiny italian place downtown?”

“Do you see us right now?” You raised an eyebrow at him, “My place. Wine. Couch. Mutual commiseration.”

“No kidnapping involved?” he teased.

You grinned over your shoulder. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

You barely made it inside your apartment before both of you were kicking your shoes off like they were instruments of torture.

You plopped onto the couch, dress flaring around you, head falling back against the cushions with a groan.

Hotch followed, loosening his tie and dropping it on your coffee table like a white flag.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you said, reaching for the bottle of wine you kept in your emergency stash, right on bar cart that was just within reach of your sofa, “but you look like shit.”

“You’re not far behind.”

You giggled, handing him the corkscrew.

He popped the bottle open with military efficiency, pouring two glasses without even sitting up fully. You clinked your glass against his and muttered:

“To almost dates.”

“To surviving another day.”

You drank. Deep.

Halfway through the first glass, you shifted closer, curling your legs up under you.

Hotch turned his body toward you, watching you over the rim of his glass, something soft and fond blooming in his eyes.

“I think,” you said, swirling your wine lazily, “this is the best first date I’ve ever had.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying that while we’re both dead on our feet, covered in floral debris, drinking emergency wine?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Exactly.”

“High standards.”

God, he was so quick and smooth. Always. You were almost a little envious. 

You leaned your head onto his shoulder, feeling him chuckle quietly against you.

“Maybe I just like the company,” you murmured.

You felt him shift, felt his hand find your knee, steady and warm, “I do too,” he said, softer now. “More than you know.”

You didn’t even make it through the second glass.

Somewhere between laughing about the angry carnation guy and ever the dramatic, Hotch pretending to die of exhaustion across your couch, you both slid lower, lower--

Until you were lying tangled up in the same blanket, your dress half crumpled, his shirt wrinkled beyond recognition.

No funny business. (not yet anyway.) 

Just warmth.

Steady breathing.

The occasional brush of fingertips.

And the unspoken truth humming louder than anything:

You’d found each other.

Even when the world made it impossible.

Even on the worst days.

You’d come to know, especially then. 

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy @stilestotherescue @midnghtprentiss @thebestqueenoftheworld @Bookaddictlatina @superlegend216

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

I grew up poor in the 2000s, and I remember all my friends played games like Club Penguin, World of Warcraft, Toontown, and eventually Wizard 101. It was THE internet for my friends, but all those games had a subscription service option which was either fully required or almost entirely required, and if the latter then there were very minimal things you could do without the subscriptions. Leveling up became entirely stagnant and nigh impossible after the tutorials, events and event maps were exclusively for paying gamers, you could not wear 99% of items and often lost access if you stopped paying for the membership.

We had plenty of completely "free-to-play" games like MapleStory and Star Wars: The Old Republic, yes, but they often HEAVILY relied on microtransactions, and the economy in-game always got so insanely horrific that nobody could do anything without paying outside parties irl money by the hundreds or even thousands to achieve the things needed for game progression.

And when the games got to this point, there was nothing fun about them.

I remember BEGGING my mom for the Club Penguin membership, it was just $5/month!! But she couldn't afford it and so I had to sit there and hear all my friends in school talk about seeing Rockhopper or Aunt Arctic at the pirate ship or in the town. I heard my friends talking about doing WOW raids together, or I'd call my friend to play Wizard 101 only for her to go to a place and find I couldn't follow because I wasn't paying.

I couldn't pay. For fucks sake I didn't even get an allowance for my chores! I had no money. At all. Nothing. On a good day I had $1 in my wallet, and I saved that baby for the lucky moment in 10 months from the day I found it when I could buy a peppermint patty at the store!

And yet the internet was entirely rooted in pay even in spaces for children.

I had a shitty childhood of inaccessibility due to lack of money, and no available offline public spaces.

Now I'm an adult, and I see this still. It comes in the form of battle passes and season passes, loot boxes for items and characters because the games are impossible after a certain point without them.

And outside we're seeing less and less places for children to play, too, without money and transportation by a parent/guardian.

There aren't many rec centers, and if so they're miles and miles away with no easy access to get to them. I don't even think there's a single one within 30 miles of where I live in any direction, and I'm in a dense, bustling suburban area. Playgrounds are being abolished for warehouses and "luxury" apartments or retirement homes. I see average skate and sports parks that are exclusive and require country club memberships for anyone to enter, or you have to be a resident of the housing community it belongs to, with community IDs, in order to use these things, and there's nothing special to them. Often those communities even require the renters and homeowners to pay for the access to them for the family. Besides these, the nearest fully public parks are miles and miles away with no convenient way to reach them unless driven there by someone else because public transit is not available in the majority of my state, and it costs a lot of money which children do not have.

Children have so few spaces to exist in outside without needing to pay or get transportation. They don't have any online spaces to be in without needing to pay. But since they can't play outside easily, parents give them the iPad or laptop to play games online and use the internet instead.

Less and less homes have a back yard or even front yard to play in. No apartments here have any play space at all.

Kids aren't given anywhere to exist offline that is convenient, free, and accessible. Parents are therefore now calling for the internet to be sanitized for children to have access to safety, but thing is, this is destroying what spaces adults have as well.

We see Tumblr implementing auto filters and tagging anything with a flesh tone, including photos of deserts, as being inappropriate. These services are crusading to ban all NSFW content on adult-only spaces because children might still be using them. States are trying to ban access to porn websites for adults, more and more social media platforms are banning the ability to post anything remotely suggestive with art and writing, they are banning swears and anything that may remotely be interpreted as an inappropriate keyword, etc.

Adults aren't given freedom because there are "righteous" warriors trying to make the internet safe for kids without fixing the actual issue which is that we need public spaces for children, and even adults, that are entirely free and which can be easily and conveniently accessed.

We need easily-accessible public free parks, rec centers, game shops and the likes. We need places where people can go without needing someone to pay to take them there, or for someone such as a parent or guardian to take them there at all! We need places for kids to be able to have fun without money, and that includes online spaces as well!

We need parents to actually fucking parent their children online and ensure they're not accessing adult spaces, that they're sticking to sites where they can play games and have fun with friends their age! Because there's so little to do as an adult that's different from what kids can do at this point, and so little room to be an adult thanks to parents who don't fucking bother to check on their children and what they're doing.

We need to fix the fact that the world fucking relies on profit even for kids, and make free stuff accessible!! Because if the whole world is made neutral so both children and adults can use it equally, but neither is convenient and remotely usable for either party, then what the fuck is the point?!!?!

What we’ve gotta understand is that “the modern Internet is abolishing spaces for adults” and “the modern Internet is abolishing space for children” are compatible phenomena. Neither group is being favoured: the modern Internet is abolishing spaces for adults (i.e., because grown-up topics aren’t advertiser friendly) and the modern Internet is abolishing spaces for children (i.e., because online communities which consist principally of people who have no money are hard to sell things to). The Internet that contemporary corporate interests are trying to build isn’t a space for anyone – it’s the digital equivalent of an Ikea showroom.

[wholoveseggs]

Hello love, I love your storiess <33

Could you maybe write something with Elijah and the reader being in a relationship for years now, and they have really good sex, but the reader is annoyed that he never lets go and tries to rile him up and turn him on and in the end the reader gets fucked by a very annoyed Elijah.

It would be so cool if you'd include like maybe he spanking her with his belt or maybe he edges her

Behind Closed Doors

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} You knocked on the red door. Elijah answered.

♡♡ Thank you for the request beautiful anon!!! This is pure filth...enjoy♡♡

5.4k words - Warnings: smuttt, some {tender} red door elijah, rough sex, light bondage {with a belt}, spanking (also with belt), oral {m receiving}, overstimulation, chasing, giggles, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, choking, teasing gone wrong {or very, very right}, possessive behavior, mild blood-drinking, some sibling gossip && elijah hating pda ...

Rousseau’s was packed.

The music was low, thudding underfoot, glasses clinking somewhere behind the bar, and the warm press of bodies made the air thick. You had squeezed into a corner table with Rebekah, Kol, Klaus, and Elijah... which meant it was already a little cramped.

When Kol stole your chair…loudly and dramatically, claiming his legs hurt … you didn’t even hesitate. You just smiled sweetly and slid sideways into Elijah’s lap.

His body tensed the second you settled there.

You felt it, the way he stiffened under you, like a live wire pulled too tight. His hand landed on your thigh almost instinctively, meant to steady you, but his fingers dug in a little too firmly to be casual.

You pretended not to notice.

You leaned back against him, all innocence, tucking your legs across his lap and resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

Across the table, Kol snickered into his drink.

"Looks like someone's getting cozy tonight," he said, raising his eyebrows at Elijah.

"You steal my chair and then comment on where I chose to sit next? Rude," you quipped back.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh no, darling. You can sit wherever you want." He winked. "I'm just not used to seeing my big brother allow such blatant PDA."

"What's PDA?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and even, his face carefully blank.

Rebekah and Kol burst out laughing, and Klaus shook his head in amusement.

You didn't say anything. You just smiled, sipped your drink, and ran your fingers lightly over the back of Elijah’s neck. 

"PDA, brother, means public display of affection," Kol said, still snickering. "It's not your style. Always the gentleman, never letting on what goes on behind closed doors."

"How enlightening," Elijah replied coolly, taking a long sip of his bourbon. 

He didn’t look pleased that this was the subject of conversation. He was still tense under you, jaw set, breathing measured. He was clearly holding himself back, fighting his darker instincts. You knew Elijah tried very hard to keep his more violent urges locked away, hidden behind that invisible red door he never fully opened for anyone.

Not even you… at least not yet.

Klaus raised his hand to order another round, and Rebekah and Kol began discussing the latest gossip in New Orleans. You didn't contribute, too busy pressing a soft kiss to Elijah’s neck, just below his ear.

"If only they knew what you're like in private," you murmured, lips brushing his skin. "They'd never look at you the same way."

He turned his head slightly, looking down at you. Not amused … but you could see the heat burning in his eyes.

"Don't start something you don't intend to finish," he warned, it was clear he wasn't in the mood for your teasing.

"What would the gentleman do if I did?" you prodded, unable to resist chipping away at his resolve, biting his earlobe softly.

"Careful," he said, an edge sharpening his voice now.

"Or what?" you asked, tauntingly.

He ignored you, turning back to his siblings. Rebekah leaned forward, smirking playfully.

"So, you know how I keep in touch with Matt Donovan?" she began, looking around the table.

"Unfortunately," Klaus said dryly, earning a chuckle from Kol.

Rebekah shot her brothers a glare but continued. "Well, apparently Elena and Damon were caught in a rather compromising situation."

"Classy," Kol snorted, shaking his head.

"Wait, there's more," Rebekah insisted, eyes glittering with mischief. "Stefan was the one who... uhh, discovered them."

"Ooh, scandalous," Kol joked.

Klaus tilted his head thoughtfully. "I never understood the doppelgängers' fondness for Damon. He always seemed rather insufferable."

Kol snickered loudly. "We all know you'd choose Stefan, Nik, you don't have to say it."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, amused. "What do you think, then, Kol? Damon or Stefan?"

"Please," Kol scoffed dramatically. "Neither. Elena is far too lovely for the Salvatores."

"Aww," Rebekah crooned. "That's rather sweet coming from someone she killed once."

"I'm a man of forgiveness," Kol shrugged. "I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

Klaus smirked. "You want to sleep with her, don't you?"

Kol raised his hands, laughing. "Who here wouldn't?"

There was a brief silence before they all began laughing again.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Klaus chuckled.

"She does have a certain charm," Rebekah agreed with a grin.

Elijah sighed loudly, drawing all eyes toward him. "Frankly, it’s beneath us to gossip about the romantic entanglements of a young woman we are no longer associated with."

You had to fight not to smile at the irritation in his tone.

"Yes, yes, old man," Kol sighed dramatically. "We were only having a bit of fun."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Elijah shot back dryly.

You decided it was the perfect moment to step in and make things worse. "So if I were to call her up and ask her to join us in the bedroom," you said sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes, "you would object to that?"

His siblings barely contained their giggles as they waited eagerly for his answer.

Elijah's jaw tightened slightly, but his tone remained measured and diplomatic. "I only have eyes for you, my love. And I do not share."

"Oh, I'm so lucky," you crooned dramatically, reaching up to pat his cheek lightly.

His siblings laughed, raising their glasses in a mock toast, and the conversation drifted into lighter territory. It was the perfect cover.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, "You're wound so tightly tonight," you whispered, tracing a fingertip slowly down the sharp line of his jaw. "I can't wait until we're alone. I wonder what will happen…"

You felt him swallow hard, his entire body going taut beneath you. His fingers tightened almost painfully on your thigh, betraying the effort it took to keep his composure.

"Careful," he breathed, so quiet that only you could hear him.

You smiled softly against his skin, knowing you had finally broken through. "I keep thinking about how good your cock would feel stretching my throat right now," you murmured, deliberately filthy, knowing every word would hit its mark. "How heavy you'd be on my tongue…"

His breathing went ragged, uneven, his composure visibly fraying at the edges. You knew you had pushed him to the brink, soon to shatter whatever remained of his careful restraint.

You sat back, smiling innocently at his siblings as if you hadn't just whispered pure filth into Elijah Mikaelson’s ear.

The others were completely oblivious, still joking and laughing, watching a live performance that had begun. But Elijah was silent, his eyes dark with barely-contained heat.

"When can we leave?" you asked quietly, so only he heard.

Elijah turned his head just enough to brush his lips against your ear again. His voice was velvet-soft, but held a promise sharp enough to make your breath catch.

"Be careful what you wish for."

You barely made it through the lobby of your building before Elijah’s footsteps were right behind you. Sharp, deliberate, closing in fast.

Your heart was pounding, breathless laughter bubbling out of you, caught somewhere between genuine excitement and playful panic. The stairwell echoed with your footsteps as you raced upwards, gripping the railing, nearly stumbling in your haste. 

For a fleeting second, something primal tightened low in your belly. It wasn’t fear exactly, but the dizzy, thrilling knowledge that the man chasing you wasn't just anyone. There was something else prowling beneath his skin, something he kept caged behind that door you were foolish enough to keep knocking on.

"Elijah-!-wait!" you gasped, voice pitching up into a squeal when you felt his fingers just brush the edge of your dress. But you didn't want him to wait… not really… and he knew it, because he laughed softly, a low, wicked sound that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

Your laughter dissolved into a breathless gasp as you rounded the landing, fumbling for your keys. He was right there, close enough to grab you if he wanted, but he let you feel the rush a little longer, your blood pumping wildly.

You barely got the apartment door open before Elijah made his move, catching you easily around your waist and hauling you off your feet. You shrieked in delight, your pulse hammering wildly as he kicked the door shut behind him, pressing you firmly against it, trapping you between his body and the wood.

His breath was warm and ragged against your ear, his voice low and dark and deliciously threatening. "You wanted my attention," he whispered, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. "Now you've got it."

Your head fell back against the door, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he pressed closer, his mouth trailing a hot path down the side of your neck. Your knees felt weak, your mind cloudy, drunk on adrenaline, desire, and the heady sensation of being hunted.

You didn't have to worry about staying upright, not with the way his strong hands were pinning you to the door, lifting your thighs so that you could wrap them around his hips.

"What are you going to do with me now that you have me?" you breathed, trying and failing to keep the needy tremble from your voice.

Elijah chuckled darkly, nipping at the soft skin at the base of your throat. "Oh, I think you know."

One hand tangled in your hair, pulling just hard enough to expose your throat. His fangs sank into your neck, a sharp, stinging bite that made you gasp and squirm. He drank deeply, tasting the wild, heady rush of your adrenaline … it made his own heart beat faster.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, his eyes clouded with lust.

"You're so hot like this," you cooed, brushing your fingertips across his bottom lip, smearing your blood there.

Elijah smiled, flashing his teeth, and then his mouth was on yours. Warm and demanding. The kiss was all fire and friction, teeth and tongues, messy and rough.

Still holding you against him, Elijah scooped you away from the door, your legs locked around his waist as he strode swiftly toward the bedroom. His mouth never left yours, the taste of your blood still sharp on his tongue.

Clothes became an obstacle and Elijah dealt with them swiftly, tugging your dress up and off in one fluid motion, barely breaking the kiss to do it. You fumbled impatiently at the buttons of this shirt, fingers shaky with need, then finally pulling it open and pushing it from his shoulders.

He dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark and dangerous as he stripped away his pants. Your pulse hammered at the sight of him above you. You had never seen him quite this worked up, you knew you were scratching at that door again, daring him to open it. Daring him to show you what he hid behind it.

Elijah moved over you, his head dipping to capture your lips, his hands pressed into the mattress next to your head, caging you beneath him. Your hands slid along his biceps, down the strong planes of his chest, fingertips dragging over the lean muscle. You could feel the power coiled there, the strength he always kept leashed. He was the perfect predator, and you were helpless against him.

But you enjoyed being kept under him, to let him do what he wanted. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart beating fast, eyes wide and vulnerable as you looked up at him. Because how he used all that power, how he wielded control, was absolutely delicious.

Elijah trailed his mouth down your jaw, nipping and sucking, his fangs pricking your skin, one of his hands sliding along your ribcage, fingertips grazing your lower stomach, just above the edge of your panties.

"Why would you say such crass things in public?" he whispered, his tone soft but firm, like a scolding, "where I could not properly respond to them?"

You giggled breathlessly, your head tipping back as his mouth moved over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Because I know exactly how to drive you wild," you teased.

His tongue swept a long, slow line across the top of your breast, and your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, a soft gasp falling from your lips. You desperately wanted him to keep moving lower, but he had other ideas.

"You're a clever thing, aren't you?" he asked, his tone amused.

"I thought that's why you kept me around," you said, your words dissolving into a loud, startled gasp as his hand came down on your inner thigh, just below the lace edge of your underwear, the slap sharp enough to sting.

You felt a rush of heat as his fingers curled around the fabric, ripping it off without hesitation.

"Elijah—"

"Hush," he cut you off sharply.

You bit your lip but couldn't contain a needy whimper as he dipped his head, giving you one, slow, tantalizing lick, all the way from your entrance to your clit, and then he pulled back. 

You groaned, frustrated, and squealed in surprise when his hand came down on your cunt, a firm, sharp slap that had you gasping and shaking.

"What did I say?" he scolded, his tone dark and dangerous.

"Please," you begged, not caring how needy you sounded.

"You aren't listening." 

You yelped as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and hauling you up onto your knees.

"Keep your face down, and don't move," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You felt his weight leave the bed, heard the soft rustle of his clothes as he picked them up, then the unmistakable sound of his belt sliding free from his pants. Your heart was pounding, anticipation and fear and a rush of arousal tangling in your chest. You didn't turn to look, didn't dare disobey, even though every instinct screamed at you too.

His belt cracked through the air. A sharp, commanding sound that made you flinch, even though he hadn't touched you yet. You waited, counting your breaths, knowing he was watching.

"Will you listen? Or should I bind you?" he asked.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to taunt him, knowing you were already playing with fire. "I'll listen," you promised.

"Good."

The bed dipped under his weight, his hands curling over your ass, his thumb brushing along the curve. And then his palm cracked against your bare skin, hard enough to make your whole body jerk forward, your thighs trembling from the impact.

"We’re going to play a little game," Elijah said softly, dangerously, his fingertips gently stroking the reddened skin he just marked. "You count each one. If you lose track, I'll bind your wrists and do what I please with you. Understood?"

You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest. "Yes."

"Good."

His hand cracked down again, swift and merciless, making you jolt forward with a gasp.

"One," you choked out, fingers clawing into the sheets.

Another, sharper than the last, the sting blooming across your skin like fire.

"Two," you moaned, your thighs clenching helplessly.

Again. Again. The blows fell steady and cruel, each one breaking you down a little more, scattering your thoughts like leaves in a storm.

"S-six," you whimpered, your voice trembling with more than just pain now. With need.

Elijah paused, dragging his fingertips across the burning skin of your ass, the touch almost worse than the blows … too light, too knowing.

"Already struggling," he murmured, his voice dark velvet against your ear. "I thought you wanted to play, sweetheart."

You shuddered under his hand, humiliated, aroused, desperate.

Another crack. Another shuddering gasp. You barely remembered the number. "S-seven," you stammered, unsure.

He chuckled, low and wicked, the sound sinking into your bones.

"Poor thing," he crooned. "Already losing that clever mouth."

Two more sharp slaps, delivered in quick, brutal succession.

You cried out, your body jerking helplessly … pleasure and pain tangled so tight you could no longer tell the difference.

"Eight—no, Nine?" you whispered, wrecked, unsure, desperate to please him and failing.

Elijah's hand smoothed up your spine, his touch almost tender. Almost.

"You lost count," he murmured, with something dangerously close to affection. "You know what that means."

Before you could even beg, the belt was winding tight around your wrists, binding them behind your back. "There we go," Elijah whispered, kissing your shoulder. "Now we'll do this properly."

He guided you carefully onto your knees, his hands firm on your shoulders. Your wrists were still bound tightly behind your back, your heart hammering wildly at the helplessness of your position. 

The sting across your ass flared sharply as you shifted, the tender, bruised skin aching with every tiny movement. Elijah stood before you, one hand cupping your jaw, his thumb sliding across your bottom lip.

"What were your filthier words earlier?" he pondered, the dark velvet of his voice wrapping around you. "Something about wanting my cock stretching your throat?"

You felt your face heat, your pulse fluttering with embarrassment and need. But you didn't shy away, didn't back down. Instead, you parted your lips obediently, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Good girl," he praised softly, guiding the head of his cock to rest on your waiting tongue.

Your mouth stretched around him, a muffled moan vibrating in your throat as he pressed deeper, inch by slow inch. Elijah watched you intently, his eyes dark, his jaw tight with restraint, taking his time even as your breathing grew unsteady and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

He began to move, slow and controlled at first, sliding carefully in and out of your mouth. Your throat tightened around him instinctively, fighting the invasion, making you gag softly. He groaned at the sensation, gripping your hair and holding your head steady as he began to thrust harder, faster.

"Look at you," he breathed, his voice ragged and low. "So desperate for me, aren't you?"

You whimpered around him, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, slicking your chin. It was messy, filthy, but you didn’t care. You were entirely his to use, bound and at his mercy, and you loved every second.

The raw throb of your spanked skin only made you more desperate, made you squirm helplessly against the burn, even as you fought to stay still and take him deeper.

He fucked your mouth brutally now, deep and unrelenting, the thick head of his cock battering the back of your throat with every thrust. Tears spilled down your cheeks unchecked, your jaw aching, your breath coming in short, shattered gasps whenever he gave you the mercy to take one… but he didn’t slow, he knew you could take it.

"You begged for this," he rasped, tightening his grip in your hair until your scalp burned, forcing you to look up at him. His vampire nature was bleeding through, dark veins spreading beneath his eyes, his pupils blown wide, a flash of fangs catching the low light.

"Such a perfect, filthy little thing for me," he growled.

Your eyes rolled back helplessly, the combination of his voice and the relentless way he was using your mouth sending your mind spinning, lightheaded and dizzy with need.

"There," he crooned, as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. His voice was wrecked with arousal, slowing his thrusts just enough to grind deep on every pass, causing you to gag around him with every deliberate stroke.

You sucked him eagerly, your tongue curling and swirling around him, moaning brokenly. He let you, let you work him over as he twitched against your tongue.

"You like this, don't you? Having my cock buried in your throat? Knowing how good it makes me feel?" he whispered, his voice low and dark, filled with pride.

You whined in agreement, desperate to please him, your eyes fluttering shut as he kept up his perfect rhythm. He groaned at the way your hands twisted in their bindings, at the sight of his cock disappearing over and over into the warmth of your mouth. You were so eager, so willing, taking him as deep as he wanted, moaning around him, begging without words.

He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping for breath, a strand of spit stretching from your lips to the head of his cock.

"On the bed," he snapped. "Ass up. Now."

You scrambled to obey, your body trembling, your wrists still bound tightly behind your back, leaving you helpless, vulnerable. The bed dipped violently under his weight as he shoved you down, yanking your hips high into the air.

The second your knees spread, the raw sting of your earlier spanking flared across your ass, sharp and punishing, and you whimpered brokenly, pressing your flushed cheek into the sheets.

Elijah didn’t wait. He didn’t tease. He grabbed your hips, lined himself up, and eased into you with a brutal thrust that punched a broken scream from your throat. You sobbed beneath him, unable to move, unable to breathe, the stinging throb of your bruised ass and the unbearable stretch of his cock wrecking you completely.

"You're mine," he growled. "Tied up and dripping, taking every fucking inch like you were made for me."

He drove into you hard and deep, the headboard slamming against the wall with every brutal thrust. Your bound hands strained uselessly against the belt, your body arching into him despite the merciless pace. Without warning, he brought his hand down sharply across your sore ass. You screamed, the fresh slap setting every nerve on fire, your pussy clenching around him.

"You are the one who wanted to make a show out of our private life," Elijah snarled, spanking you again, making you jolt and squirm helplessly under him. "This is what you get."

His pace was punishing, ruthless, his grip bruising, his voice rough and dark. You whimpered, overwhelmed, the angle letting him hit your g-spot with every thrust, sending heat racing through your veins.

"You wanted them to know what you turn me into?" Elijah growled, his hips pounding into you hard enough to shake the bed. "You wanted to show them the side of me you alone get to see?"

You sobbed out a broken yes, barely coherent, every nerve-ending lit up from the brutal pleasure of his cock pounding into you.

"Careful," he murmured, slowing his pace just enough to make you feel the full, aching stretch of him. "You might just get your wish, sweetheart. Maybe next time I'll fuck you on the bar table while they watch. Let them see what I do to you."

He shifted slightly, angling his hips until every brutal snap of his body against yours crushed that sensitive spot inside you again and again. You couldn't hold it back even if you tried. The orgasm ripped through, tearing a raw, broken sob from your throat as your body clamped down around him, your vision going white.

"That's it," he purred, slowing only slightly, fucking you through the aftershocks, wringing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

You collapsed into the bed, boneless and whimpering … but Elijah wasn’t finished. Not yet.

Somewhere, dimly, you realized you had gotten exactly what you asked for. You had teased the gentleman and unleashed something far darker, far hungrier, from behind the red door he had always kept locked.

And now there was no more pretending, no more polite restraint … only Elijah, brutal and merciless, intent on taking every last piece of you.

Without warning, he pulled out, flipping you roughly onto your back. Your hands were still bound behind you, your body trembling, your eyes glassy with pleasure-drunk need.

He leaned over you, his face fierce and devastatingly beautiful, his fangs flashing just slightly behind parted lips. For a moment you felt real fear, a flutter of instinctual panic. Perhaps you had pushed him too far, that he wasn't temporarily indulging or even pretending, but actually taking what he wanted.

He seemed to sense it, and his expression softened slightly, just for a moment, his eyes dark with hunger, but not malicious. He leaned down, nuzzling the soft skin just below your jaw, the tenderness a stark contrast to the violence of his need.

"You're mine, understand?" he murmured against your ear, his voice rough. "You belong to me."

"Yes," you breathed.

His hands curled under your thighs, lifting and spreading them, pinning them back toward your chest, the angle made you feel so exposed. his dark eyes locked on yours, watching your face as he pushed slowly into you. You were slick, swollen, but still so sensitive that his sudden return had you squirming against him, whimpering with overstimulation.

You let out a strangled gasp as you felt the slow, maddening drag of his fingers over your clit. Light, teasing, circling, while his cock stayed buried deep inside you. You whined, needing more, hips twitching against his restraint, but Elijah only shushed you gently, his fingers never lifting, his cock grinding slowly inside you with the barest roll of his hips.

"So sensitive," he whispered, his lips brushing your own. "My poor girl..."

Your bound wrists were pinned and straining under you, your head nodding frantically, overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity of it, from how tender and ruthless he was all at once.

"You're going to come again and again and again...," he said, his voice so calm it almost broke you. "You're going to milk my cock like the desperate little whore you are. And I'm not going to stop until you're begging properly."

You tried to protest, the words barely formed on your tongue, but Elijah cut you off with a kiss, "Do you like this?" he whispered, swallowing your cry as he sank deeper, mercilessly rubbing your clit, lighting every nerve.

"Elijah," you pleaded, the word almost a sob, caught somewhere between a plea and a moan.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, his smile wicked, his eyes dark.

You weren't sure how long he worked you over, how many times he pushed you to the brink, only to let the waves subside, keeping you suspended in blissful torture. He kept you balanced on the edge, a desperate, needy, writhing mess. It was too much, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All of your senses had narrowed down to only him, to the heat of his body and the smell of his skin, the feel of his touch.

He watched you intently, the way your face flushed, your eyelashes fluttering, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the soft, helpless whimpers falling from your lips. You were perfect, utterly his, and completely undone.

"Come for me," Elijah whispered against your ear, thrusting just a little deeper, rolling his hips in tight, devastating circles. "Show me what a good girl you are. Show me how you come apart on my cock."

You shattered with a scream, your entire body locking up, pulsing and spasming around him, stars bursting behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. But Elijah didn’t stop … his eyes black and wild as he fucked you through it. He kept his pace slow and punishing, wringing every trembling aftershock from your wrecked body, his fingers still teasing your clit, driving you past the point of reason.

"I know, baby," he breathed when you sobbed, trying to squirm away. "I know it's too much. But you can take it. You always take it for me."

Your body trembled violently, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, but your pussy kept clenching around him, your body betraying you, desperate for every slow, deep grind of his cock inside you.

"You love it," he whispered, reverent. "My good, beautiful girl. You love being so full of me you can't think straight."

He leaned down, claiming your mouth in a kiss, licking away the salt of your tears, sucking and nipping at your lips.

"One more," he coaxed, his voice low and gentle. "Come on. Give me one more."

"I can't," you begged. "Please, Elijah, I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hand curling around your throat, the pressure careful but firm, holding you in place.

The angle forced you to look up at him, his expression so tender and adoring, a sharp contrast to the roughness of his movements, the tightness of his grip. Your hands clenched helplessly at the belt binding your wrists, unable to stop the soft, choked moan that fell from your lips as he began to thrust faster, harder. His vampiric nature had taken over entirely, his face savage and feral, his eyes black and wild.

And then he struck, his fangs piercing the skin of your neck, a bright, burning flash of pain. His bloodlust was raw and desperate, but he still had control, drinking only enough to push you over the edge, not caring about the mess you made on the sheets as you came with a helpless, broken wail.

You could barely breathe, could barely hear his broken, stuttered groans, could barely feel the rush of wet heat as he spilled inside you, reaching his own release. You lay there, shaking, limp and helpless, as his mouth found yours again. A tender, lingering kiss, filled with something far deeper than just the passion.

"I've got you," he murmured against your lips.

It took several long moments, and his careful, steady hands, before he was able to untangle the belt from around your wrists, tossing the leather aside. Your arms dropped limp once Elijah finally freed them, tingling and sore from being pinned so long. He caught them gently, brushing kisses along your wrists and the palms of your hands, checking the tender skin for damage.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his expression worried. "I didn't mean to be so rough."

"I'm fine," you hummed lazily, letting him fuss over you a little, sprawling back across the sheets like you had all the time in the world. You were wrecked, sure, your thighs still trembling, your whole body aching, but you felt good, wild and fucked-out and smug about it.

"I'm sorry," Elijah insisted.

You sighed, sitting up, cupping his cheek in your palm. "Hey," you murmured, drawing his gaze back up to yours. "Don't apologize. That was amazing."

"I hurt you," he said, his brows drawing together in worry.

"Yeah, and I loved every second," you teased, smiling up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "It's kind of the point, remember?"

His expression softened slightly, his arms winding around your waist and pulling you against him, your foreheads pressed together.

"You're a menace," he said, voice rough but amused as he brushed his lips against yours. "A beautiful, dangerous menace."

"Can't help it," you murmured, grinning. "You bring it out of me."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your skin. "Apparently I do," he admitted, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his voice softening, turning vulnerable. "Did I truly live up to your expectations?"

"Oh, Elijah," you breathed, tilting his face up to meet your gaze. "You always exceed them."

He smiled, his hands running soothingly up and down your sides, his lips grazing softly over the fresh bite mark on your throat.

Until you broke the moment.

"So," you said, voice a little too innocent, "would you really never consider sharing?"

Elijah stilled, then lifted his head enough to give you a dry, unimpressed look.

You batted your lashes shamelessly.

"I mean, Elena’s cute," you mused aloud, dragging a lazy finger down his chest. "Or Stefan. Broody in a hot way. Perhaps even Damon if I’m feeling particularly generous."

"You're impossible," Elijah groaned.

"I'm not hearing a no."

He sighed, "No, sweetheart," he said firmly, the hint of a threat in his voice. "I would rather gouge out my own eyes than offer you up to the Salvatores." His lips found yours again, the kiss hungry and possessive, filled with promise. "They're not worthy of you."

"I don't know," you whispered against his mouth, grinning. "Maybe I like the idea of you getting jealous."

Elijah growled under his breath, a low warning rumble, and kissed you again, even harder, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

When he pulled back, he hovered over you, his eyes dark.

"Say one more word about anyone else," he murmured, "and I’ll fuck you against every surface in this apartment until you forget their names."

Your thighs squeezed around him instinctively.

You smiled, smug and wrecked and unbothered. "Worth it."

Elijah shook his head, exasperated but smiling despite himself, the faintest trace of a blush coloring his cheeks. "You truly are a menace,”

You just laughed breathlessly, reckless and happy, already plotting how you would break him all over again.

[wordsofwhimsy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Angst, post-breakup blues, eventual payoff tho

Word Count: 2,299

Synopsis: Three weeks after a breakup he can’t shake, Mark finds himself aimlessly nursing milkshakes and regrets—until William drags him out for a night at the club to help him “move on.” But no amount of drinks, dancing, or pretty strangers can quiet the echo of what Mark lost.

Inspiration: 'All the Pretty Girls' by fun.

a/n: i’ve been sittin’ on this for a hot minute and figured might as well drop it in the chat – hope y’all don’t mind 👀

The Burger Mart smelled like fryer grease and teenage dreams deferred.

Mark sat in the booth by the window—the one you two used to claim like it was yours by birthright—hunched over a milkshake he hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. Chocolate. Your favorite. He wasn’t even thinking about it when he ordered it. His body just… remembered.

He stirred it absentmindedly with the straw, head propped on his fist, eyes unfocused. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days. His sweater was riding up just enough for his suit to peak out and show off a stain, probably from when he crash-landed into a taco truck mid-patrol. He hadn’t cared enough to clean it.

William slid into the booth across from him with a heavy sigh.

"Okay," William said, dropping his phone onto the table with a dramatic clack. "I let you sulk. I let you eat your feelings. I even let you cry while watching that one sad episode of Avatar—which was kind of weird but whatever. But Mark, it’s been three weeks. Get your head out of your ex’s hoodie."

Mark didn’t look up. "It's not hers," he mumbled.

William gave him a pointed look. "You literally only bought that hoodie because she said you looked hot in dark blue."

Mark opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but then closed it again. Fair.

William leaned forward, voice softening just a little. "You miss her. I get it. But sitting here rewatching your relationship in your head like it's a Friends DVD collection isn’t helping. You need to get out. Meet people. Let someone buy you a drink. Or at the very least, force you to smile."

Mark scoffed. "I smile."

"You grimace," William corrected. "Like you're doing emotional taxes."

Mark finally looked up, eyes tired but still warm. “I don’t want to meet someone new.”

“Then don’t. Just… let someone meet you.” William gave him a look that was way too sincere for how casual he was trying to act. “Besides, I’m an excellent wingman. And if I can get you out of this mope-fest, maybe the rest of us can sleep at night again.”

Mark sighed. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to feel like he was moving on. But maybe sitting in the exact place you used to laugh across the table from him wasn’t doing him any favors either.

“…Fine,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “But I’m not dancing.”

William grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “You say that now, but we’ll see.”

Mark shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the ghost of a smile from twitching at the corner of his mouth.

—

The club pulsed with bass so heavy Mark could feel it in his teeth.

Neon lights cut across the dark space like strobes, catching on sequins, jewelry, and sweat. He wasn’t sure if the drink in his hand was his third or fourth—William kept handing them to him, and he hadn’t been keeping count. The burn in his throat helped, though. It made everything a little blurrier. A little easier.

He was standing in a loose circle with William and two girls they’d just met—Talia and Jess, or maybe it was Jenna? It didn’t matter. They were cute, confident, clearly into the whole “tall, sad, broody” vibe Mark had going on tonight.

And Mark was… trying. He really was.

He laughed at their jokes, nodded along to stories he only half-heard. His smile was soft around the edges, his eyes still a little distant. But he looked good. Alive. Normal.

“So what do you do, Mark?" one of the girls asked, leaning closer to hear him over the music.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, college. I go to Upstate U. Technically an English major but don’t ask me why—I guess I like pain?”

William snorted into his drink. “This man hasn’t read a single book for class since week two.”

Mark shrugged, flashing that crooked little smile that made people lean in. “My ex was a lit nerd. I thought if I read her favorite book, I’d understand her better.”

“Did it work?” the girl asked, grinning.

He looked into his drink. “Nope. Still trying.”

He didn’t realize what he’d said until the girls blinked at him.

“Oh,” he added quickly. “Sorry. That was—yeah. Anyway.”

They moved on. Kinda. For a minute.

The conversation drifted toward the topic of favorite music, and Mark’s face lit up just a little.

“She used to play this indie playlist every morning while she got ready,” he said without thinking, swaying a little with the beat of the club's current song. “Had this dumb little dance she’d do while brushing her teeth. It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Another blink from the girls.

William’s eyes narrowed like he was watching a slow-motion car crash.

“So, uh, any siblings?” one of them asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Nah, just me. But her family kind of adopted me for a while. Her dad grilled me every time I came over. I think he secretly liked me, though—he let me have the last slice of pizza once.”

“Mark,” William hissed under his breath, elbowing him.

“What?” Mark blinked at him, genuinely confused. “I’m just talking.”

“You’re reciting your relationship timeline, dude.”

Mark blinked again. His buzzed haze shifted just enough for the realization to land.

Oh.

“Oh.”

The girl—Talia, he was pretty sure now—laughed, trying to keep things light. “Wow, she must’ve been something.”

Mark looked down at his drink again, swirling the melting ice around with his straw. His voice dropped just a little when he answered.

“She is.”

For a second, the noise of the club felt distant. Like the music was underwater and the lights were just colors bleeding together behind his eyes.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d come tonight. Maybe he thought being surrounded by people would help. Maybe he thought he’d forget how your laugh sounded when you were tired, or how you always ordered fries after saying you weren’t hungry.

But he didn’t forget. Couldn’t.

Because none of these pretty girls could measure up to you.

The night had worn on like a pair of shoes half a size too small—just enough discomfort to remind Mark he didn’t belong here.

The drinks had dulled the edges, but not enough. The music was still too loud, the lights too bright, and the ache behind his ribs just wouldn’t shut up.

William had drifted off somewhere—probably flirting with the bartender again—and Mark found himself leaning against the railing by the upstairs lounge area, drink in hand, trying to look like he wasn’t mentally replaying every dumb inside joke he used to share with you.

“Hey,” a voice came beside him. Soft. A little hesitant.

It was her—the girl from earlier. The one with the easy laugh and kind eyes. Jenna. Or maybe Jess. Definitely a J.

“You looked kinda lonely over here,” she said, smiling in that way people do when they’re trying not to scare off a sad dog. “Thought I’d come rescue you.”

Mark blinked. “Oh. Thanks. Yeah, I guess I… wandered.”

She leaned her hip against the railing next to him. “You wanna dance?”

He hesitated. His gut reaction was no, but then he remembered William’s voice in his head, practically begging him to try. Just give it a chance. Let someone meet him.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Sure.”

The dance floor was slower now. Not as packed. The music had shifted to something dreamier, bass still thumping but with more space between the beats. Moodier. Intimate.

They found a spot under a flickering pink light, and she stepped in closer, hands grazing his arms.

Mark moved with her. Gentle, unsure. Her fingertips slid up to rest on his shoulders. She was smiling, looking up at him with that cautious sort of hope. Like maybe tonight could mean something.

“You’ve got one of those faces,” she murmured, “like you feel everything really deeply.”

Mark huffed a breath, almost a laugh. “Yeah… that’s kinda my curse.”

Her smile widened. “Well, maybe you just haven’t met someone who feels the same way. Yet.”

Mark’s breath hitched. He didn’t mean to think of you. But there you were.

The way you’d look at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The quiet comfort of your hand in his. That time you whispered “I think I’m falling in love with you” so softly, like you were afraid of the words, but even more afraid they were true.

She stepped a little closer. Her head rested gently against his shoulder. It should’ve felt nice. It did. Kind of.

But not in the way he wanted.

Because even now—this close, this warm, this quiet—all he could think about was how your head used to fit there better.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her smile faltered at whatever expression was on his face.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

Mark didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “You’re… you’re great. Really. I’m just…”

“Not over it,” she finished for him, nodding softly. “I get it.”

He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have—this was a mistake.”

She touched his arm lightly. “Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. Sometimes we try to move on before we’re ready. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Mark gave her a grateful, sad smile. “Thanks.”

As he turned to leave the dance floor, he glanced over his shoulder.

She was still standing there, watching him go, that hopeful expression faded into something quieter. Understanding.

Mark barely heard William over the music, his head still spinning from the failed almost-something on the dance floor.

“Dude! Where are you going?” William called, jogging up and grabbing Mark’s arm before he could disappear into the crowd. “You said you’d try. That was not trying. That was—I don’t even know what that was.”

Mark exhaled sharply. “I did try. I talked, I danced, I smiled. I mentioned my ex so many times I probably traumatized that poor girl. I’m done.”

“No, no,” William said, spinning him back toward the dance floor with all the force of a drama teacher trying to save the spring musical. “We came here to get your groove back, not to spiral in a parking lot. One more song. Just one. Then you can go do your sad-boy brooding in peace.”

Mark sighed deeply, already halfway to saying no. But William was giving him that look—the one he only used when he meant it. The “I care about you too much to let you rot” look.

“…One song,” Mark muttered, defeated.

“Atta boy,” William grinned, grabbing both their drinks from a nearby ledge. “Now pretend you’re not dying inside and maybe I’ll even buy you fries on the way home.”

They were only on the floor for about thirty seconds before Mark knew he couldn’t do it. The bass thudded in his chest, people bumped into him from every side, and all he could feel was wrongness—like he’d wandered into someone else’s life.

He turned to William, eyes apologetic. “I can’t.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Just pivoted, already pushing through the bodies, ready to find a wall to lean against or maybe just the nearest door—

And then it happened.

He crashed right into someone. Hard enough to stumble. He blinked, startled, ready to apologize—until he looked up. And the world just… stopped.

You.

Your eyes locked with his like magnets snapping together. Your mouth opened a little in surprise, but no words came out.

Mark’s breath left him like someone had knocked the wind out of his chest. “Y/N?”

Your eyes were wide. “Mark?”

He looked around for a second, almost like he was checking the sky for signs of divine intervention. “Are you real? Am I—?”

You gave a stunned half-laugh. “Yeah, I’m real. I came with my friends. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were,” he said, heart beating so loud he could barely hear himself. “Jesus. This is—”

And then, right on cue, the next song started.

Your song.

That one you used to scream-sing in the car. The one that played the first night he kissed you. The one he hadn’t been able to listen to since the day you walked out of his life.

His mouth opened. Yours did too.

Neither of you moved for a second.

But then—like gravity had finally remembered what it was supposed to do—he stepped forward. You did too.

His hands found your waist like they never forgot how. Yours curled into the fabric of his hoodie like it was still yours.

He searched your face, not for permission—he already had it—but for something real. A signal. A yes.

Your lips quirked—barely. Just enough to say, I’m still here.

He kissed you.

And the world, for once, got it right.

The lights blurred, the bass fell away, and the only thing either of you could feel was the truth humming between your mouths: You hadn’t moved on.

Not really.

Because how could you, when nothing else felt like this?

You melted into him, arms looping around his neck, and it wasn’t desperate—it was homecoming. It was the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. It was everything crashing back and still somehow fitting together perfectly.

The song kept playing.

And somewhere behind you, William saw it happen, and just raised his hands to the sky like, Finally—thank god.

[bylerfiles]

tysm to @star-41306 and @shadowyyyidk for the tag!

favorite color 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ blue and black

last song 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ the cut that always bleeds by Conan Gray

currently reading 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ The Kill Order by James Dashner

currently watching 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ stranger things!

currently craving 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ byler moments :')

coffee or tea 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ coffee!

npt ── .✦ @bycharlie @pansexualdisasterrr @justwhenbluemeetsyellow @p3rs3ph0n3schild @kissboybyler @sadiesinkobsessedsstuff @busycryingoverthemarauders

get to know your moots tag game ! ✶ answer the questions, then tag six people

favorite color ꕀ green and brown last song ꕀ tú by maye currently reading ꕀ the luminaries by susan dennard currently watching ꕀ the great british baking show currently craving ꕀ massaman curry. like always. and like. alcohol and a couple cigs HAHA. a break too :P coffee or tea ꕀ always tea! i don't like coffee

ty for the tag @saltcxrcle ! tagging: @lelapine @toadspondofwhimsy @outof-spite @h0neyst4rz @hhoneylemon @our-lady-of-venom

[megapteraurelia]

matsukawa issei and his habit of calling you my darling girl in public, knowing exactly the way your panties would grow damp as you try to hide the onslaught of anticipation and fear; because he only ever calls you that when you've grown too bratty and disobedient and there's punishment awaiting you.

matsukawa issei and the way his fingertips would graze the back of your sundress, slight caresses of your skin yet refusing to touch you directly. pulling away with his hand as you try to chase his touch, but never once does he look at you, seemingly immersed in the conversation with his friends until his hand suddenly finds its way underneath your dress and he tugs your panties up, sharp, a warning.

matsukawa issei and the little tensing of his jaw muscles when you accidentally drop something during dinner, and you plant your hand right on his thigh when you try to support yourself to pick it up; the way his hand grabs your hair under the table in response and presses your face against his crotch until you have to dig your nails in his leg so he'd let up. sometimes, when he's feeling especially mean, he pretends to change seating positions to hump against your face. asshole.

matsukawa issei and the rings on his fingers disappearing deliciously slow into your cunt whilst you're both seated in the car with the others. he's taken the middle seat and his huge frame blocks the view of the others as he corners you against the car door, hand buried under your dress, between your thighs.

matsukawa issei and the messy way he eats you out, all tongue and suckling, plopping of your clit, and open-mouthed kisses, drool dripping from his tongue, thighs warming his ears, chin covered in your wetness. the way he doesn't stop even when you cum, and continues lapping at your pussy with his long, slender fingers continuously finding that spongy soft spot within you. until you're forced to cum a second time, until your legs are shaking and there's a funny feeling inside you that feels like the urge to pee and when you tell him that in a broken voice, moans spilling comfortably, he only hums against you, deep voice ordering you to mess up his face. to c'mon, not be shy. to give him all you got, you sweet thing you.

matsukawa issei and the way he never once stops looking into your eyes during sex, eyebrows furrowed, teeth digging into his lower lip, cheeks flushed as his hips stutter uncontrollably, his pace growing a bit sloppy as he continues to fuck his cum into you.

he can't control the way his forehed presses against yours, the sharp inhale and the i love you's tumbling from him, into you, with each kiss.

TAGLIST | @takes1 @classicalelephant

@kameyyy @captain-hawks (bc i know you both like mattsun :> sawwi if you didn't like the tag!!)

[ponderingmoonlight]

As a request, may I ask: How would Dante react if his partner got hurt ???

The gunfire's still echoing through the busted-out cathedral when you collapse behind a ruined bench, your hand pressed hard against your side. Blood soaks through your fingers. Fuck, this is way too warm, way too much. Almost immediately, that signature sharp pain starts occupying your abdomen.

You’ve been hit. Pretty bad this time, to be exact.

Dante’s voice cuts through the chaos, breaks you out of your numbness for a brief second. Right, you were on a mission together. You were supposed to stay behind him like he always instructs you to.  

“Hey! Where the hell are you?”

You try to call out, but it’s more of a gasp rather than real words forming. Fuck, this is even worse than you thought. Every breath you take feels like a knife stabbed into every inch of your skin. You hear his boots crunch stone, rapid and close.

Then he’s there. His eyes - usually glinting with some cocky one-liner waiting on deck - go sharp when he sees you, when he catches a glimpse of what definitely feels like a pretty ugly wound.

“Shit.”

“You already called me worse than that”, you huff out barely audible.

He’s kneeling beside you before you can blink, rebellion dropped with a clang. His hands hover for a second, like he wants to scoop you up and rip the world apart at the same time.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he mutters, voice low but ragged, carefully ignoring your last remark.

“Charging ahead like that…what, you think you’re me?”

You manage a weak smirk, a silent whine escaping your lips when his hand inspects the gaping wound you don’t dare to look at.

“Trying to keep up.”

That earns a shaky laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like usual. He presses his palm over yours, steadying it in order to stop the bleeding of your wound. Warmth rushes through the contact, demonic energy humming at the edge of your skin.

“Don’t do that again,” he replies, and you can immediately tell it’s not a joke.

“Next time, I’m the one taking the hit. Got it?”

You nod, and his expression shifts just a flicker. Softer. Like the world narrowed to you, bleeding and broken, and nothing else.

Then, in true Dante fashion, he scoops you up, arms gentle despite the strength.

“You know I hate it when you pick me up like a baby- AH!”

“You’re lucky I like you. Let’s patch you up before I go back and finish mopping the floor with that ugly bastard.”

And as he carries you out, blood-streaked and cursing under his breath, you know this isn’t just a job to him. Not anymore.

Dante is way more than your comrade.

Tags: @moonlighteevee @elrondswifeyyyy @levisbrat25 @dragon-lord-lysander @punem699

@sunshine7queen @dreamywisterias-blog @mizzowizzo