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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 1 day ago

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"Young and Beautiful"

Prologue

ya'll, I cannot sleep with my arm in this stupid cast, so i started rereading "the great Gatsby" (my comfort book) and i got this idea. i know, i know, i have 3 unfinished fics buttttttt i'm injured and this is my blog and i have free will so i'm writing this. This is yandere romantic batboys and bruce x reader. BUT set in the roaring 20's. Send in asks, requests, ideas, and just what you think about this! Likes, comments, reblogs and asks are encouraged and keep me going! Love yall <333. This is written in 1st person, reader is recalling events in her journal. This is a rough draft for the prologue! Sorry if it doesnt make sense, i'm high off pain meds writing this bc i'm BORED.

The first time I saw Jason Todd, he was nothing to me Just another boy in my father’s estate, covered in dirt, hands rough from labor, his bruised knuckles proof of a fight he hadn’t won. His blue eyes were sharp, full of something wild, something untamed, something that made you bristle, the kind of fire you knew to stay away from, even at 12 years old.

The first time I spoke to Jason Todd, two years after I saw him, I thought he was filth.

He was a boy covered in dirt, his hands stained with mud and the smell of horses, his knuckles raw from a fight he clearly hadn’t won. His face was sharp, bruised, skinny and too wild for someone who worked under my father’s name. He was nothing, just another street rat lucky enough to be given work in my father’s stables, another nameless stray that old Mr. Wilkes had dragged in from the gutters of Gotham. He smelled like sweat, hay, and something sharp, something angry.

I was fourteen years old and wore pearls around my throat, a silk dress with delicate lace at the sleeves. My father’s estate stretched over rolling green fields, our mansion standing tall like something out of a dream. My mother’s hands were soft, her perfume sweet, and I had never known hunger or want. My world was a world of glittering lights and expensive champagne, of high society and grand parties, of people who smiled with their teeth but whispered behind painted fans.

Jason Todd did not belong in my world.

Yet, somehow, he slipped in like a stain on silk.

We met on the back steps of the estate, where the stable boys cut through to the gardens. I was waiting for my automobile when he nearly ran into me, boots dragging dust over my polished shoes.

Jason Todd? He was filth beneath my shoes.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

Because the first time I met him, he nearly ran into me.

He didn’t bow like other servants did, he didn’t apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness.

He barely even looked at me before muttering, “Watch it,” like I was in his way.

I had never been spoken to like that in my life.

I hated him immediately.

I took a startled step back, wrinkling my nose at the smell of sweat, hay, and horse.

The nerve.

I straightened my back like Daddy told me to when I wanted to look serious and I tilted my chin up as I stared down at him. "Excuse me?"

Jason smirked, slow and lazy, eyes glinting with amusement. "Did I stutter?"

I had never wanted to slap someone so badly.

Instead, I remember turning and walked away, forgetting my plans of going into town, heels clicking sharply against the stone, vowing to never look at him again and to hate him forever, no matter how handsome he was,.

That vow didn’t last long, especially when he took off his shirt.

Jason was everywhere.

I saw him at the stables, his shirtless back slick with sweat, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he worked. I saw him sneaking apples from the kitchen, disappearing into the trees, laughter on his lips. I saw him in the streets, fists flying, always coming back with fresh bruises, always alive in a way no one else was.

And then, you heard about him.

"That stable boy got into another fight," the maids whispered. "Damn near killed the other boy, apparently the other kid got smart about his lady."

At the time, I thought the strange burning feeling in my gut was disgust at even hearing Jason's name. Now I know, what I felt was pure jealousy, not knowing the 'lady' Jason nearly killed a boy over was me.

"He’s trouble," my mother warned when I asked about him at dinner. "Keep away from him, sweetheart."

"He won’t last long here," my mother sighed. "That kind of boy never does, no matter how much of a soft spot your father has for him."

My father pitied Jason, told me I oughta be nicer to him like I am to the other workers (he would regret that statement soon.)

He had no one. No mother, no father, no family, nothing but the clothes on his back and determination. He had what my father called "the look of a man who'd rather die than fail" and my father respected that.

But Jason did last.

I hated him.

Hated the way he smirked at me from across the gardens, like he knew something I didn’t.

I hated the way he never bowed, never apologized, never treated me like the others did.

I hated that when I was alone, when my father’s friends spoke about marrying me off to the sons of their business partners, I thought of Jason Todd instead.

The first conversation I had with Jason Todd was after I had fought with my father.

It was about marriage. About duty. About a boy I didn’t love.

I ran into the garden dramatically ignoring my father's desperate calls, pearls at my throat, tears in my eyes.

And Jason was already there.

Sprawled under an oak tree, cigarette between his lips, watching me like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.

"You rich girls cry over the dumbest shit," he muttered.

I whipped around. "What did you just say to me?" How dare he speak to me like I was any other girl, like this wasn't my home, like he didn't work for my father.

Jason pushed himself up, boots kicking up dirt as he smirked. "You ever go to bed hungry?"

My breath caught. He had a point, you were privileged.

"Ever steal to survive?" His voice was low, teasing, sharp. "Ever wake up in the morning and wonder if you’ll still have a roof over your head by sundown?"

I didn’t answer, for the first time in years I felt something close to shame.

Jason tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with resentment. "Didn’t think so, princess."

I hated him. He made me feel childish. He humbled me. He burst my perfect bubble.

And I loved him for it.

I loved him for making you feel something real.

And that was the beginning of everything.

I loved Jason Todd.

I loved him when he me you out of the house at midnight and made me ride my horse bareback through the fields.

I loved him when he knocked the rich boy who called me a tease's teeth out.

I loved him when he threw pebbles at my window on the third floor and scaled the walls to my balcony.

I loved him when he kissed me for the first time at 14 under the summer stars, hands gripping my waist, mouth desperate against mine.

"You’re my Jason, my Jaybird," I whispered against his lips. Corny, but nothing felt better to say, especially when I saw his face.

Jason smiled like I had given him the whole damn world.

And he? He was my whole world.

When Jason was seventeen and I was fifteen, he walked into my father’s grand house, dressed in his best suit, nervous but determined and proud, his hands clean for once, his boots polished.

He asked my father for my hand in marriage. He asked my father for my hand and I thought he would say yes. Daddy always thought he was a hard worker, called him a real good sport.

He stood before my father and said, “I love her, sir. I’ll make her happy. Give me a chance. I ain't got much now, but one day I will. I'll give her what she's got and more.”

My father just laughed.

“Boy,” he said, shaking his head, “she’s not meant for men like you.”

Jason left that night, whispering a promise against my skin.

"I’ll come back for you, I'll be great. Be a man like how your daddy wants, rich and proper, he'll have to say yes."

I waited, god knows I did.

I wrote letters to the last address he gave me every single day.

For five years. Till I turned twenty. I never looked at another man, I had my Jason.

I waited for him to reply, fought off suitors and pressure from my mother. I waited for a reply, that he was coming soon, that he missed me.

I waited.

And my Jaybird never came back.

My father loved me.

He regretted turning Jason away five years later, when I still refused to marry. He never forced me to marry, not even when the years passed and my suitors grew frustrated with my refusals.

He saw my misery, my longing and admitted, “I should’ve said yes. I should’ve let you have him.”

He thought my Jason was a passing infatuation, he wondered what people would say about his daughter marrying the stable boy.

He wished he saw my love for Jason sooner.

But love wasn’t enough to keep the debt collectors away.

I knew something was wrong when my father began to look stressed, when my parents began to argue, and when I heard my mother cry herself to sleep after selling her favorite pearls.

My father was going to loose everything all at once.

The steel business wasn't what it used to be.

And then suddenly, Bruce Wayne arrived like a knight in shining armor.

He was older than me, 18 years my senior. Refined, powerful, and dangerously charming.

And most importantly, rich. He was exactly what I needed to stop my family's fall from grace.

Bruce courted me like a gentleman.

He sent roses every morning, took me to the finest restaurants, whispered in my ear about a future where I would never want for anything again.

He was patient.

He never forced me to love him.

He only asked for one thing.

"Let me take care of you."

I kept Bruce waiting for three months. All I could do was think of Jason. I knew he was not returning, that he either was dead or found some other pretty girl to make promises to.

I told myself love was not enough to fill an empty stomach and keep my parents happy like they did for me.

I told myself that Jason Todd was not coming back to save me, yet each morning I woke up waiting for a letter or pebbles thrown at my window.

After four months of courting, I decided.

And at twenty, I became Mrs. Bruce Wayne.

Jason Todd never sent me a single letter, but I still dreamed of my Jaybird even as I looked at the massive ring on my finger.

OKKKKK SO WHAT YA'LL THINK??? CONTINUE OR DELETE??? FLOP OR BOP? SEND IN ASKS!!!! I MISS YALL! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ROMANCE W JASON AND BRUCE. I REALLY LIKE THIS AU!!!! WHAT DO YALL THINK IS GONNA HAPPEN? SORRU IF IT SUCKS OR DOESNT MAKE SENSE, I'M SO HIGH BRO.

BE NICE PLEASE, I'M IN PAIN! THIS IS NOT EDITED OR PROOF READ.

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adieutristana · 3 days ago

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vanity; jinx x fem! reader

loosely inspired by this fic by @moshuka.

summary; jinx used her looks to flirt her way out of a situation. her girlfriend isn’t happy.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; nsfw, porn w (some) plot, sub!jinx, dom!reader, brat!jinx, mirror sex, rough sex, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as a dick/cock, hair pulling, crying, humiliation ig?, slight degradation, use of the word ‘whore’, size queen jinx, squirting

men and minors dni.

at first, you were worried.

jinx tends to get herself into dangerous situations more often than not, way too often for her own good. it's what she's known for, after all. jinx: the mad bomber. the loose cannon. zaun's princess.

but she has a way of getting herself out of those situations. her reflexes are impeccable, her strength nearly inhuman for someone of her stature. it is inhuman, considering the shimmer coursing through her veins. weapons that she's built herself regularly save her in battle, and most of all, she's got a smartass mouth.

one that usually comes in handy, but clearly not this time.

"jinx," you start. your arms are crossed over your chest, one hip popped. you're trembling in frustration- coming apart at the edges. "i heard you were flirting with some guy who cornered you. i'm gonna be graceful and hear you out."

she bristles, and the girl's breath catches.

"what i do depends on if i like what you have to say."

you'd heard from passersby on the streets gossiping about what jinx had done. nothing stays a secret for long in zaun; there's almost always a witness, someone who can't keep their mouth shut. people love to gossip, and with that, they love to twist the truth.

so you're hoping to janna above that what you'd heard was a simple rumor. jinx being cornered by one of smeech's goons. a new one, a guy seemingly too good for the likes of this line of work. apparently not. he'd threatened jinx, gotten close to her, nearly hurt her. but instead of her usual solution of whipping out her gun and pressing the cold barrel to someone's neck as a warning, she'd flirted.

told the guy that he's young, attractive, promising. he's too good for a business like this. if he'd just leave her alone, she'd let him go without any fuss, and there would be no mess to clean up. maybe they'd even cross paths again someday.

"i didn't mean any of it, toots," her hands are raised in a mock-surrender. "he was ugly, honest!"

"i didn't ask if he was ugly," you bite. you're inching closer to her, until your noses are nearly touching. the tone in your voice tells jinx you're not fucking around- yet that makes this all the more exciting for her. "i asked you to tell me what happened."

"i didn't do anything, just flirted a little. no harm done."

"you have a gun. why didn't you use that?" you push.

jinx huffs, rolling her eyes. it only serves to piss you off even more. "i just wanted to switch it up, yanno? try something new. and it worked, didn't it? didn't have to spill any blood or nothin'. no cleanup."

"so what i heard is true?"

"depends what you heard."

"oh, you-"

that's it. you take jinx's wrist, and just about drag her to her cot. she's giggling all the way, that signature shit-eating grin plastered on her face. you wish there was blood to clean up. although you know nothing happened- jinx wouldn't dream of being unfaithful to you, this feels calculated. like she'd done it on purpose, just to get under your skin. she was probably sitting in her hideout, just waiting for someone to start talking.

you want nothing more than to slap that grin off of her, make her grovel and apologize and make it up to you.

but you won't. with a quick motion, jinx is flung onto her cot. she gasps, but doesn’t move from her sitting position, doesn’t stop fucking grinning.

"come oooon! you're always telling me i'm soooo pretty. i’m like a work of art.” she comes to lazily toss around the end of one of her braids, playing with it the same way she’s playing with you. “maybe i just wanted to use that to my advantage.”

gods damn it.

you come to stand closer to jinx, looming over the girl. she’s still sitting on her cot, nice and pretty. she looks so innocent, so sweet, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she actually was. too bad you do know better. your forefinger and thumb grasp her chin, forcing her to look at you. your thumb lazily traces along her plump bottom lip.

“oh, you’re pretty, alright.” your thumb pushes past her lips, flattening against her tongue. “gorgeous, even. but that doesn’t mean you go around using those looks like a fucking whore.”

jinx would be smiling right now, but her mouth is… occupied, not sucking, not licking at your thumb, but letting you do what you must. you withdraw it as quickly as it was put in, wiping her spit on her bare shoulder.

“you’re all talk,” she gasps. “not gonna do a damn thing about it, are you?”

“do you want me to?”

“sure.”

“do you deserve it?”

“does it matter?”

it’s then that you flip her onto her stomach.

“take those clothes off. get back on the cot- face down, ass up. i’ll be back.”

no time is wasted walking to another platform in her hideout and swiping the shattered mirror from one of her tables, and a strap-on from one of her drawers.

you place the mirror directly in front of jinx’s cot, and to no surprise, jinx is completely bare now. her perfect heart of an ass in the air, pussy nearly glistening in the dim light with her arousal. she’s braced herself on her hands, and she isn’t moving, but you can tell by the way her arousal is already dripping down her inner thighs that she’s eager.

it’s a sight straight out of a porn film. the mad bomber, desperate and wanton. maybe you’ll buy a polaroid camera for next time, really capture the moment.

“ugh, toots, are you just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna fuck me?” she whines, only interrupted by the sound of the harness fastening around your hips.

“you’re not exactly in a place to make demands right now.”

you lean over her, your breasts pushing into the smooth skin of her back and your lips almost touching her ear.

“‘revolver’, if it gets too much.” you whisper.

and with that, the tip pushes past her folds. bright pink and dusted with glitter, about 8.5in and girthy. a large task for a small girl, but jinx insists she can take anything you give her.

“hngh- fuck!” she whines out, already beginning to buckle. you’ve got one hand rested on jinx’s hip, the other trailing down her side- her shoulder, the grooves of her ribs, her tiny waist, until it finds purchase on her other hip and you push into her.

another lewd cry falls from her lips. you’re barely even halfway in, and she’s already panting and moaning so pitifully. maybe another day you would’ve taken pity on jinx, but not after the shit she pulled.

“come on,” you coo. “can’t take it?”

“i didn’t- agh, say that-” she pants. the girl’s form is beginning to tremble, but you don’t waver. you ram the rest of the toy into her hole, which brings a borderline pathetic wail from her. the way her greedy hole is impaled by your cock is a sight you wish you could burn into your mind. if she were on her back, you bet you'd be able to see it from inside her stomach, but that can wait for another time.

“fuck- fuck! too big!”

“too big, huh? should’ve thought about that before you went and threw yourself at some guy.”

you ease the strap out of her, before slamming it back in. positively prying your girlfriend open. you then take one of jinx’s long twin braids in your hands, looping it once around your wrist and yanking. forcing her to look up.

she gasps with the motion, yet somehow, she still has the willpower to defy you. squeezing her eyes shut and grunting. you jerk her braid farther back, jinx hissing at the stinging pain.

“look at yourself.” you demand.

it’s then that you move. a slow pace at first, in, out, in, out. drawing wet squelches from her cunt with every thrust. she’s shaking and thrashing and whining, but you can’t deny the way jinx’s cunt sucks you in, clenches around you. greedy and sopping, as if it was made to take your dick.

“aah, hhhng- oh! oh!”

your pace is quickening, and you can hear the skin of your hips slapping into her ass. jiggling ever so slightly with each movement, but the best thing is the mirror.

there’s multiple images of the scene in the shattered glass. the sight is something right out of a dirty magazine; you pounding jinx’s poor, abused pussy from behind. jinx struggling to support her upper body despite her strength, you tugging at one of her braids and forcing her to look directly at her reflection. small tits bouncing with each thrust, plump lips open and the slightest bit of drool dribbling down her chin.

“do you see it?” you pant, the base of the toy nudging your clit with each thrust. “the- hah, way you look right now? while i’m fuckin’ you?”

“yes,” she breathes out, her voice a high shrill. her strength is starting to fail her, shaking on her arms and eventually dropping down to her elbows to support herself. a smirk tugs at your lips at the sight, seeing jinx being broken down so quickly. she brought this on herself, really.

"f-fuck, you look a mess," snapping your hips against jinx's, pathetic whimpers and whines falling from parted lips like a stream. "feels good, huh?"

"feels- hmmph, so good!" she groans. her body is being forced forward and back ever so slightly with each motion, and to see herself being fucked in real time is both thrilling and downright humiliating. jinx never knew this is what she looked like, so wrecked and sloppy, but she can't be bothered to care right now. all she can care about is you fucking into her relentlessly.

arousal dripping down her inner thighs, a stinging sensation in her scalp while you hold onto her hair. she knew you'd get jealous if she flirted- expected a thorough spanking, maybe, or for you to sit on her face and use her mouth until you were satisfied. never did jinx think you'd force her into a front-row seat to her own punishment.

“you’re not gonna do that again- mm,” you groan, base rubbing against you so right. “are you? hngg- tell me you won’t.”

“i won’t, i won’t! unghh, i’m sorry!”

she nearly screams out. the pleasure is mounting, it’s painful, she’s being stretched open and almost split down the middle. but it’s so fucking delicious, the feeling of you fucking her so thoroughly. so deeply. tears are beginning to well in her eyes, her mascara already running down her cheeks. it’s filthy. the tip of the plastic dick kisses her cervix with each thrust, coated in sleek juices.

"oh- oh, please," she breathes out. her bangs are sticking to the thin sheen on her forehead, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "pleasepleaseplease-"

there it is. jinx is close, that much is obvious from her flushed expression, her straining against your grip, trying to push her hips back onto your cock like some needy slut. your own climax is building, but you want- need to see jinx get there first.

you reach underneath her with your free hand and press against her neglected clit, which draws a high-pitched squeal from jinx. you revel in the sound. right now, it’s as if jinx is an instrument, fine-tuned for your playing. making these beautiful, obscene sounds.

you can see hot tears running down her face in the mirror, lips parted and the pale expanse of her neck bared. her lipstick is smeared from the dribble running down her chin, and thin black streaks run down her cheeks.

“i’m- i’m gonna-!”

the girl doesn’t have time to finish her sentence before she squirts over your hand and the cot beneath her- coating you in light pink. she’s boneless, panting beneath you, collapsing as soon as you pull out of her and release her braid. she can’t muster up any words, she’s spent- laid on her stomach, sniffling and simply trying to breathe.

maybe next time, she won’t be so fucking vain.

#jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #jinx smut #arcane x reader #reader insert #arcane x you #sapphic #lesbian #idk how i feel about this one tbh

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hrtwayne · 2 days ago

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Take my Breath Away || Alexia Putellas [Part One]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Physiotherapist!Reader

Summary: Where the girl Alexia kissed at a bar ends up being hired as the new physiotherapist for the Barcelona team.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: None, except for the two being completely oblivious!

Next Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

The night before, Y/n had gone out to celebrate her new job with some friends at one of London's trendiest bars. Amid laughter and conversation, the light and relaxed atmosphere allowed her to let loose, at least for a few hours, from the pressure she felt after securing a contract with a Spanish team after years of working in English football. The night took an unexpected turn, and under soft lights and loud music, Y/n found herself sharing a kiss with a woman with blonde hair and a captivating smile.

The next morning, the headache from the celebration's excesses throbbed intensely, and Y/n struggled to recall the details of the previous night. She blinked, still feeling dazed, until the image of the woman she had met the night before, with her blonde locks and mesmerizing gaze, returned to her mind.

"Damn," she muttered to herself as she sat up in bed, the fragments of memory starting to piece together. "Did I get her number?"

She wasn't sure, but she wasn't the type to let herself be distracted by such things, at least not for long.With her mind scattered, at 8:15 a.m., Y/n entered the Barcelona Training Center. Although she was familiar with the environment, having worked in similar centers before, there was something different this time, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was the weight of being back in Barcelona or the new challenge that awaited her.

As she crossed the main entrance, her eyes narrowed, taking in every detail of the place with the familiarity of someone who knew it well but the seriousness of someone who wanted to do everything perfectly. With her hands in her jacket pockets, she remained focused until she was approached by a man with a firm posture and a warm smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Doctor. I'm Pere Romeu, the coach of the women's team," he said, extending his hand in greeting.

"Pleasure," Y/n smiled back, shaking his hand confidently.

Let's go, I'll introduce you to the players," the coach guided her through the center's corridors to a gym where the players were training intensely. "Ladies, take a break, please."

The athletes paused their activities and turned to Y/n and the coach. The physiotherapist, maintaining her professional demeanor, began to analyze them one by one, recognizing movements, observing postures, and identifying potential points of concern. However, what she didn't expect was to see, among them, the same blonde woman from the previous night. The shock was instant.

The woman, Alexia, stood still, her eyes wide in surprise as she recognized Y/n. A brief moment of tension filled the air, but it was quickly masked when Y/n bit her lip, hiding her nervousness before formally introducing herself.

"It's a pleasure, ladies. My name is Y/n, and I'll be your new physiotherapist," she said, approaching and shaking each of their hands firmly.

Alexia, who had been quiet until then, flashed a shy and charming smile at Y/n, still trying to process the coincidence. The two, visibly uncomfortable, tried to hide the tension, but it didn't go unnoticed by their teammates.

Ona, with her typical humor, shot a teasing look at Alexia as soon as Y/n and Romeu walked away to talk.

"Now I understand why you wanted to get her number last night," Ona commented with a mischievous smile.

Alexia, awkwardly, muttered something inaudible as she felt her face flush. She knew it would be hard to keep that secret with her friends around, especially with Ona and the other girls always paying attention.

"Don't you dare say anything!" Alexia grumbled, trying to avoid further teasing, but it was obvious the situation was far from going unnoticed.

Y/n, on the other hand, tried to stay focused on her conversation with the coach, though the image of Alexia and what had happened the night before was becoming clearer in her mind. She would have to figure out how to handle this coincidence and, more importantly, how to work alongside the woman who, without realizing it, was already stirring her emotions.

At the end of the day, when most of the players were already leaving training, Alexia told her friends she needed to stay a bit longer for a medical evaluation. The discomfort in her left knee, the same one that had suffered previous injuries and surgeries, was bothering her, and Coach Pere Romeu had recommended that Y/n take a careful look.

Alexia walked through the quiet corridors of the training center to the medical wing. The place was almost empty, the sound of the captain's footsteps echoing softly. When she reached the office door, she knocked lightly and waited for a response. A muffled sound of approval came from inside, and Alexia entered.

"Are you about to leave?" Alexia asked, her hands in her jacket pockets, as she saw Y/n sitting at the desk, focused on some papers.

Y/n, distracted by the paperwork, looked up at the familiar voice. Her eyes met Alexia's, and she took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her professional composure.

"Did something happen?" she inquired, trying to hide the concern she felt. The tension between them was still palpable, but Y/n knew she needed to focus on her work.

"I felt some discomfort in my left knee during training, and the coach asked you to take a look," Alexia replied, trying to mask her growing anxiety. She couldn't believe she was in the same room, alone, with the woman she had kissed the night before.

The previous night had been a whirlwind of emotions, and now, face-to-face with the physiotherapist responsible for her physical well-being, Alexia felt the thin line between personal and professional life being tested.

"Alright. Sit on that examination table, please," Y/n instructed, standing up from her chair. "I want to make sure it's nothing serious. The coach told me about your ACL injury, so I'll check to see if there's any connection."

Alexia did as she was told, sitting on the table as Y/n approached. The physiotherapist began to examine her left knee with skilled and gentle hands, pressing lightly on critical areas. Alexia let out a soft curse as the pain intensified in one specific spot.

"I want to make sure you're in condition to play the next game. If you feel any major discomfort, let me know immediately, okay?" Y/n said, massaging the captain's knee lightly. Her touch eased the pain, and Alexia took a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily.

The warmth of Y/n's touch was comforting, but it also stirred something in Alexia. She hated to admit that this closeness was affecting her. The memory of the previous night was still fresh, and now, with the physiotherapist so close, Alexia's emotions were in turmoil.

"Is there something you want to say, Captain?" Y/n asked, sensing the tension in the air as she pressed gently on another area of the knee.

Alexia hesitated, her heart racing. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but this wasn't the time or place.

"I don't think it's something I should mix with work, Doctor," Alexia replied, trying to keep her tone professional, even though she was conflicted inside.

Y/n, however, didn't seem willing to completely ignore what had happened between them. Without losing her composure, she replied with a subtle tease:

"That's exactly why you should have left me your number, Putellas."

Alexia felt her face flush, averting her gaze to avoid direct eye contact. Y/n's comment, delivered in a low and calm tone, hit her hard. The physiotherapist's sweet perfume filled the space between them, bringing back memories of the previous night.

Without prolonging the tension, Y/n stepped back, grabbing a pen from her lab coat pocket. With quick movements, she turned to the desk and wrote something on a small post-it note. Then, she handed the note to Alexia, who looked at it curiously.

"You have my number now. You know you can call me if you need to," Y/n said with a small smile, placing the note in Alexia's hand.

Alexia, unsure how to react, tucked the post-it into her jacket pocket and nodded without saying a word. Her heart still racing and her mind in overdrive, she knew this interaction was just the beginning of something much more complicated.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso imagine #woso x reader #fem reader #barcelona femeni #woso fanfics

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fanged-fanfics · 3 days ago

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hey broski! I hope you don't mind, requesting

Pure Vanilla/Shadow Milk x Sorcerer! Eldritch Magic User!Reader, Oneshot if you can :) Their gender is whatever, They/Them

Reader was Pure Vanilla's assistant or bodyguard like Wild berry, and they weren't from vanilla kingdom, but they worked as Pure Vanilla's and tries to fit in, they have a special abilities(Doctor Strange's magic bcuz yes, also bonus if they used to be non-magic cookie) They're mature and responsible.

Reader was a older sibling/Parent-figure to Gingerbrave's friends.

They all visit to Beast Yeast together and yeah, I don't know. You can add and go crazy. Thank you!

☆ A Stroll Into Town — Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk (seperate) x Bodyguard!Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You walked dutifully along Pure Vanilla, a contained Shadow Milk being dragged behind you both. While the deceitful beast was passive, you'd decided it had been far too long since visiting your friend Gingerbrave. He'd attempted to write you a few times to tell of his adventures, and you missed seeing him in person. "We'll be coming up in just a moment, I think" Pure Vanilla said through the silence. Shadow Milk struggled against the restraints you had him in "I'm so BOOOOREEDD!! Can't I have a little break? I'm gonna crumble away at this rate!" He cried.

You spun around, pointing your sword in his direction "Quiet. You will be detained when the time calls for it". Shadow Milk didn't seem deterred, and he blew a raspberry in your direction. You leaned back with an unamused look, Pure Vanilla patting your shoulder. "Patience, my knight. He'll have his due time". You grumbled, but gave an obedient nod, walking forwards and dragging the fallen beast once more.

You soon entered through a thick patch of trees, peering into a building Kingdom on the other side. Many Sugar Gnomes flooded the place, building stones up with shovels and saws to make the walls. You walked in perfect tandem with Pure Vanilla, and a familiar Cookie turned to see you, his blue eyes shining with excitement. The next thing you knew, you were being tackled to the ground in a hug. "YOU MADE IT!!! The castle is being rebuilt right now, but I'm SOSOSO happy you're here!" Gingerbrave exclaimed brightly.

You grunted while sitting up, patting the shoulder of the crushing hold you were in "Wouldn't miss it for all of Earthbread. Now let me breathe-" you replied. Gingerbrave pulled back "Oh- sorry! I've been getting so strong recently" he said, grinning as he flexed one of his thin crispy arms "Must be all that adventuring". You smiled, chuckling a little "I'm sure. But I bet you still couldn't beat me". "Oh yeah? I bet I could!" Gingerbrave shot back confidently.

You glanced up to Pure Vanilla, who was smiling warmly at seeing you so relaxed. He gave an approving nod, and you stood, facing your now-opponent "Come on, let's put it to the test" you said. Gingerbrave got a running start, causing you to chase after him. Meanwhile, Pure Vanilla positioned Shadow Milk onto a nearby bench. The beast was still grumbling, practically pouting now "This is what we came here for? Ugh, you're making me think a jailcell would've been a better option"

"On the contrary, this is exactly the kind of exposure you need" Pure Vanilla said, taking a seat nearby. When Shadow Milk glared at him in confusion, he went on, "Look around, Shadow Milk. All these Cookies coming together to build something great. Not just a kingdom, but a home. Even our dear knight can't help but join in". He turned his eye staff to the Cookies running about, using it to see the scenery "They're family, friends, comrades. It's everything you need to learn"

"BOOORRIIINNNG" Shadow Milk interrupted, leaning back in his seat "Sheesh, and just when I wanted to think you couldn't get any worse, you bring out the friendship speech. Give it a rest, you fool". Pure Vanilla just gave a shrug. He was always irritated with Shadow Milk, but it wasn't in his nature to lash out or snap. Not after that first time... he focused on his deep breathing instead, finding comfort in watching you battle with your pals.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, but found his gaze going to the same area. You looked so carefree out there. So unapologetically yourself. Just you, the sun beaming down, and the thrill of battle. He didn't remember a time where he ever saw you look happier. Maybe there could be something there.. a spot carved out in the earth for something even as vile as him. Maybe a spot right beside you, if he wanted to really hope. But he shoved the thought back down when remembering the scowl you always fixed him with. It was stupid to get his hopes up, he figured. But for now, he was drawn to your form, awestruck by you, and he felt no need to look away.

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jazziejax · 2 days ago

Text

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐤 ‘𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Cowboy!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - They had always had this lingering tensions between them. But not it seems that whatever feelings were there have now boiled over and at the Sweet Tooth Saloon, things get a little hot.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!, MINORS DNI, Heavy tension, sensual dancing, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), soft!Terry, mild dominance, tender aftercare, implied feelings

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - since yall only like me when I write about Aaron Pierre 🙄 I’m not good at wiring smut and I don’t even like doing it but this is something to hold yall over in case I drop off the fave if the earth soon. I have Finals next week :( UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. There probably many because my laptop over heated…also, I can’t write a short fic to save my life.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭- 9,567+

The small bell above the door jingled as the large man stepped into the beauty salon, ducking slightly to avoid the low-hanging dried herbs strung up near the entrance. The scent of lavender and bergamot mixed with the faintest trace of hot iron and other chemicals, the kind used to curl or straighten a lady’s hair.

He had never set foot in a place like this before. Not because he didn’t believe in looking presentable—he just never trusted another person with a razor near his throat. And, to be honest, he didn't mind looking rough sometimes, but he was starting to become a little self-conscious whenever a woman looked at him for too long. Especially her. But the dust of the road clung to him, so his beard and his hair had grown past the point of comfort as he and his comrades spent more time than they thought in Sugar Cane Creek. Everything needed a trim. At least, the mirror at the bar last night told him as much, and Jim had made a comment about him “starting to look like a wild man”.

Terry didn’t care much what people thought, but he cared about feeling like himself.

A woman stood behind the counter, fingers-deep in a bowl of soapy water, scrubbing a comb. The early morning light that poured through the shop window was caught in her dark hair, making it shine like polished mahogany. She looked up, recognizing him instantly—because who in Sugar Cane Creek didn’t know who he rode with? But she didn’t stiffen or frown like some folk did when they saw a man from the Nat Love Gang.

Instead, she wiped her hands on a cloth, tilted her head, and smiled just enough to let him know she wasn’t afraid.

“Well, well." She mused, setting her rag aside. “Never thought I’d see the day you walked in here.” She said, a soft grin on her face. Her voice was as rich and smooth as honey fresh from the comb.

Terry removed his hat with a sigh, brushing a hand over his curls that had gotten a little thick on top of his head. “I think I'm in need of a trim.”

She raised a brow. “Hair or beard?”

“Both.”

Her gaze flickered over him, lingering on the rough edges of his beard. “I’ll say. Starting to look real close to a mountain man.” She quipped. Terry, however, didn’t smile, but something in his dark eyes did shift, a flicker of amusement that only she would catch. They had always danced around one another. Something they had been doing for a while now—exchanging looks in town while Terry earned his keep over at Cotton's and she began to start her work day at The Blush and Brush Parlor, brushing shoulders when they shared time at The Sweet Tooth Saloon. He was a quiet man, but she liked that about him. A man who didn’t talk just to fill space.

Her eyes flickered over his face, then lower to where his suede, dark brown, coat stretched broad across his shoulders. “Take your coat off." She said, already gathering her scissors. “You might be here a while.”

Terry hesitated, looking down at the shorter woman with a tired look. "Don't talk about me like I'm some sort of ruffian, now." He said, his voice deep and his country drawl thick. The brown skinned woman gave him a faux pout with a small laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, bright eyes, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Now take a seat and let’s get you looking decent again, okay?" She grinned, playing coy with him. Terry didn't flinch at the name, but a small twitch was his lip was noticeable to her before he then shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the empty chair not far from him. He then sat down in the chair she stood in front of, allowing the woman to drape a sheet over his front, tying it at the back of his neck with nimble fingers before combing through his hair. She was gentle, but precise—no wasted movements, no hesitation.

"You know how to do men's hair?" He asked.

"Yup." She said. “Been cutting my daddy’s since I was eight. Used to say I was better than any barber in town.” He could hear the smile in her tone at the thought, though it veered off into something a little sad.

Terry hummed, the closest he’d come to laughter anyways, but he could also tell that the subject was a little sensitive to her. He let her work, let the soft snip of the scissors fill the quiet. Every so often, he felt the barest brush of her fingertips against his skin. He could also feel her large chest brush against the back of his neck every now and then, causing him to look up into the mirror in front of him, watching the woman work. He wasn’t a man who flinched easy, but something about that gentle touch made him tense in a way he couldn’t explain.

The shop was quiet except for the snip of her scissors. She worked with practiced ease, combing through his hair, trimming away the weight. Every so often, her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, light and deliberate. She felt the way he tensed, barely noticeable, but there.

“Relax, cowboy." She teased. “I ain’t gon' hurt you.” She said softly.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, settling into the chair.

She then suddenly grabbed the side of his head, straightening his head and looking at him though the mirror. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he didn't question it as he watched her intensely though the mirror.

“Alright." She murmured after a while. “That’s the hair. Now the tricky part.”

She brush the excess hair from him before she turned to the washbasin, dipping a cloth into warm water before wringing it out. He expected her to hand it to him, but instead, she pressed it against his face herself. She held his head steady with her other hand, gripping his chin. And he couldn't help but wonder if she did the same procedures with all her clients, because even though his hair looked better than before, the way she was touching felt oddly intimate. The heat from her touch as well as the warm cloth sank into his skin, soothing the roughness of travel and the dry air. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

She worked carefully, rubbing a mixture of soap and oil into his beard before picking up the straight razor. She tested the blade against her thumb. She hummed before moving over to the leather strap against the wall to give it a quick sharpen. She tested it again, obviously to her liking since she walked back over and tipped his chin up with two fingers.

“You ever had a woman shave you before?” She asked, looking up from inspecting his unruly beard to lock eyes with his bright ones. It was a simple question, calling for a simple answer, but their gazes were intense. Terry shook his head, just barely, caught in her big eyes and soft touch as he licked his lips.

His response, or lack there of, caused her to grin. “Good. Means you’ll keep still.” She said, only leaning in briefly as she joked with him, but her sudden contact made allowed him to catch a whiff of sweet scent like, something like Ambrosia.

“Lean back,” She instructed, her foot hovering over the pump that allowed the chair to recline. Terry hesitated, blinking at her. It's not that he didn't trust her, he'd known her for quite some time now. He trusted her hands in his hair, but a blade near his throat? That was different. He never trusted anyone that much, not even his closest comrades. It's the reason why all his self-cut's were a little choppy. Something that wouldn't have mattered if he was still up to his outlaw duties and on the road. But now he was spending his time in saloon's and around beauties they didn't offer at home.

She caught the shift in his posture, her smirk turning knowing. “You scared?” She questioned.

Terry met her gaze, his own steady. “No.”

“Then sit still.” She said before she pushed down on the pump under the chair, allowing it to recline. And that he did, opening his growing facial hair to her, ample room left in case of his worst fear. But he had no reason to fear her and her intentions, because her blade was steady. Her hands were sure, and he trusted her, even though he had no reason to.

The razor glided slow, careful. She kept her grip steady, the blade sharp and sure as it skimmed along his jaw. The heat of the late afternoon pressed into the shop, thick and lazy, but it wasn’t what made her skin prickle. It wasn’t what sent that slow, creeping flush up her neck, settling warm in her cheeks.

No, that was him. It was his eyes that were watching her.

They were unblinking, steady, tracking her every move like a man who had nowhere else to be. He was always like this—silent, still, and always looking—but something about it felt different now. Maybe because they were closer than usual. Maybe because she could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the slow rise and fall of his chest under the weight of her touch.

She set her jaw, trying not to let on just how much she felt him. The every move he made under her touch.

Instead, she focused.

“Bet you’re the kind of man who don’t like feeling vulnerable." She murmured, trying to make small talk with staring man.

Terry’s eyes stayed on her. “You talk too much.” He said, quirking a brow at her. She chuckled, dragging the blade along his jawline. “Maybe. But you don’t talk enough, so it evens out.”

Her hand shifted, fingers pressing just beneath his chin as she tilted his head for a better angle. He was warm beneath her touch, his pulse steady, but she felt it jump when her nails scraped lightly against his throat. She tilted his chin just slightly, her fingers light under his jaw, and dragged the blade down his throat in a slow, deliberate motion. He let her, not moving, not even swallowing, though she could see the tight pull of his muscles beneath his skin, right at the peek of his shirt.

She shouldn’t be looking there, but how could she not? This hunk of a man was lying below her, almost open and willing as he gazed up her with a soft look in his eyes. The air between them was thick, something unspoken curling at the edges. Her grip on the razor tightened just a little as she worked, and his gaze burned hotter for it.

“You always watch this hard?” She asked finally, keeping her tone light as she wiped the hair she cut on a rag after shaking it off in the water basin and then wiping it away. She glanced up some, catching sight of his lips—pink, full, and slightly parted—tipped up at the corner. “Always.” That single word, rough and low, sent something straight to her stomach.

She swallowed as she continued working, trying her best to focus, steadying herself. She wasn’t about to let him get the better of her, no matter how much heat curled between them. But she also took her time finishing the shave, enjoying the rare sight of the outlaw that is Terry Richmond—silent, still, and at her mercy.

“You’re awful quiet for a man with so much to say in his eyes." She murmured, brushing away the lingering shaving foam with the pad of her thumb. Her hand lingered a second too long, caught in the shape of his jaw. Terry still didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her.

“Didn’t know I needed to talk." He said, and she could’ve sworn she saw his blue eyes flicker to a sea green as the light hit them. The warmth in her cheeks…and else where, deepened. She pulled back, making quick work of the last stroke of hair she had to eliminate, but her hands weren’t as steady as before.

And he knew that.

By the time she was done, the shop felt too small, too warm, too much. She grabbed the cloth and wiped his face cleaning, looking at her finished product around his mouth. Her eyes met his briefly as she took in the goatee she set him up with, a small smile beginning to grace his feature as his eyes bounced across her face. She cleared her throat softly, wiping an imaginary spot of lather from his jaw and leaned back to admire her work. “There. You clean up nice, cowboy.” She said with a grin.

She turned, quickly wiping the blade clean, setting it aside, and moving a few steps away to compose herself as she gathered the material she sat out in front of the mirror.

But then she felt him stand up from the chair, taking the cape off. She felt the shift in the air when he got close—just behind her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. She glanced up, watching as he inspected his face in the mirror from behind her. He rubbed his large hands across his face, taking in his fresh look. He only did that for a few seconds before his gazed dropped to the round woman below him. He her her eyes in the mirror, nothing but an exchange between their eyes. She was the only to look away first, cleaning the station.

Terry sat the hair cape he had in his hands in the chair, looking as himself one last time before he hummed in content. He place his hand on her shoulder, large over her breakers that was far from small. “Good job.” He said, voice low near her ear. He then stepped away, his hand dragging down and across the back of her waist as he moved over to shoulder on his coat. She froze at the feeling of him touching her, and then gulped at his fingers tracking off her body. She looked up, looking herself in the eye and blinking, making sure this was all real, before looking in the mirror to watch him put the coat over his large frame.

Terry ran a hand over his chin, feeling the smoothness. He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

“How much?” He asked after putting on his hat, straightening his clothing, and she tried not to get distract by the way he grabbed his belt, using it to adjust his pants. She turns, tiring her head at him as she gave him a noticeable once over. “Hmm.” She stated with a hum, placing her hands on her hips as she stepped closer. “Well, if you were any other customer, I’d charge five cent. But for you, Terry Richmond, I’ll charge you three.” She smiled.

Terry’s lips twitched, his expression unreadable as he glanced off into the distance out side of the parlor’s windows. He adjusted his belt, the large buckle dinging softly while the leather shifted under his grip. His eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked back to her.

“Three cents, huh?” His voice was smooth, lazy, but there was an edge to it—like he was turning something over in his mind. “Mighty generous of you. Can’t help but to think I’m special.” He quipped, though his tone never really wavered from his deep baritone and his serious manner.

She lifted a brow, arms still crossed as she tilted her head at him. “Well, I’m feelin’ kind.” She smiled, playing along to the game she knew she started, all for the hell of it.

That little smirk of his deepened. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing some of the space she’d put between them. She felt it immediately—his warmth, his presence. It was impossible not to.

“You always this kind? Or only to me?” His voice had dropped, rough and low, like gravel dipped in honey.

Her pulse skipped. She held his gaze, not backing down, but he knew what he was doing. He knew the way his voice curled around her, the way his eyes made her skin prickle. Her breath caught, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she kept her expression even, playful, letting her smile linger as she tilted her chin up at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She murmured, voice smooth as satin. “Mr. Special.” She finished, a certain glint in her eye as she tilted her chin just slightly—like she wasn’t the least bit affected. Like she wasn’t keenly aware of just how close he was now.

Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, knowing. His gaze flickered down, just briefly at the Lowe part of her face, before settling back on hers. His presence was suffocating in the best way, heavy and warm, filling up the little space between them.

“I would.” He admitted, voice slow and deliberate, like he was testing the weight of the words. “Got a feelin’ the answer might keep me up at night.” He said, crossing his arms.

She let out a soft laugh, looking away from his heavy stare as she shook her head. The heat curling in her stomach was unmistakable. He was good—too good. And she didn’t now how’s long she last in this little game they always played before she pounced on him.

“Don’t go losin’ sleep over me, Richmond.” She teased, even as her pulse thrummed in her ears. She breezed past him, making sure her side brushed against his as she moving over to the small counter on the left side of the door. His eyes trailed down her figure once her back was to him, taking in her round and voluptuous curves from behind. “Wouldn’t wanna be the cause of your troubles.” She finished as she turned to look at him from behind the counter. She leaned her weight in the counter, her hand clasped together with her forearms resting on cold wood. She watched as Terry stood there for a moment, the look in his eye darker than before as he stated at her. He then blinked before moving, not taking his eyes from her with his pace slow and deliberate before he stood on the other side of the counter, looking down at the woman.

Terry tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was seeing something no one else had the sense to look for.

“Too late for that.” He said. The words were quiet, but they landed heavy between them, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Before she could find something clever to throw back at him after gulping, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver dollar, and placed it on the counter in front of her hands. His fingers brushed hers, Cushing him to glance down at the small touch.

He then looked back up, his blue eyes staring into her brown ones. “That oughta cover the next few visits.” He said, voice even, but there was that flicker of something else in his eyes again—something smug, something dangerous.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s too much.”

Terry simply shook his head, glancing away from her. “Nah.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, lips parting slightly, but he was already shrugging into his coat, the weight of his scent—tobacco and something deep, something him—lingering in the air. “And here I thought you didn’t like to talk.” She mused, watching him, arms placed on the counter as she thought over all their silent but pleasant times together in the Saloon while the rest of the gang chatted.

Terry confined to gaze at her, his eyes taking across her face. “I don’t.” He said, his smirk lazy, knowing. He paused, casting her a slow, lingering glance—one that made her stomach twist up in knots. He then turned to the door, but before pausing and casting one last glance over his shoulder. His gaze swept over her—slow, deliberate, enough to make the air feel thick with something unspoken. Then, after a beat—“But you make it worth it, Mrs.Special.” Then he tipped his hat and walked out.

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, staring after him, her heart racing, her face burning hotter than a summer’s day in Cane Creek, her fingers gripping the counter a little tighter than before and the lingering ghost of his eyes still burning against her skin.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Sweet Tooth Saloon was alive tonight—thick with the scent of whiskey, tobacco, and the heat of too many bodies pressed close together. Laughter and conversation swirled beneath the hum of string instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor. The music was thick, rolling through the air like smoke, wrapping around every body packed into the space. Heat clung to the walls, thick with whiskey, sweat, and the deep, throaty hum of anticipation.

But all of it quieted—just a little—when she stepped onto the stage. Her deep red dress hugging her curves, sinching in her waist and pushing up her breast.

The pianist struck a slow, rolling tune, and a hush fell over the crowd like a held breath. She let them wait, dragging her fingertips along the microphone stand, tilting her head slightly as she took in the sea of faces before her. Then, just when the tension thickened, she let her voice pour out, smooth and rich like warm molasses.

The song was sultry, the kind that curled its way around a man’s spine and made him lean in just a little closer, made him think about things he shouldn’t in a room full of people. And Lord, did they lean in. The entire saloon was hanging onto her voice, watching the way she swayed, the way her fingers trailed down her own arm, the way she made every lyric sound like a promise whispered against bare skin.

Men leaned closer, their drinks forgotten, their gazes fixed on the woman commanding the stage. Her voice was rich, full of promise, of something dark and sweet.

But there was only one pair of eyes she felt, steady and unwavering through the thick haze of smoke and lantern light. In the very back, where the light barely reached, where the smoke curled the thickest—she saw him.

Terry Richmond.

He was leaning against the bar, broad and still, his hat tilted low but not enough to hide the way his bright eyes. He was half-shrouded in shadow, his bright blue gaze cutting through the dim like a knife. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking—just watching.

Her heart skipped a little.

Heat licked up her spine at the intensity of it, but she didn’t let it shake her. She didn’t falter under his gaze. Instead, she let it fuel her, let it shape the way she sang, the way her lips curved around the lyrics, the way she dragged her fingers over the curve of her own waist. If he wanted to look, she was gonna give him something worth looking at.

She kept singing, dragging out the final note, letting it settle over the room like the last flicker of a candle before it goes out. By the time the last note left her lips, the saloon erupted in cheers, men whistling, clapping, stomping their boots against the floor. She gave a slow, knowing smile, dipping into a slight bow before stepping down from the stage.

She didn’t make a show of looking for him, but she knew exactly where she was going.

The moment she reached the bar, a whiskey was already waiting for her—on the house, as always. She took a slow sip, letting the burn settle deep before finally turning, finally meeting his gaze up close. The bar was crowded, but somehow, the space next to Terry was clear. He didn’t look at her right away, just lifted a hand slightly to catch the bartender’s attention. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just looked at her, that same unreadable expression on his face.

“Whiskey?” He asked, voice low, smooth like dark molasses as he gave a small gesture to the glass she already downed. She leaned against the counter, close enough that the edge of her skirt brushed his leg. “You know me too well.” She grinned, already feeling the buzz that the alcohol as giving her. At that, Terry slid a silver coin across the counter, and within seconds, a glass was in front of her. She looked away from him as she took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in her chest. She could feel him watching her, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. That was the thing about Terry—he could say more in a look than most men could in a thousand words.

“You always stare this hard, Richmond?” She asked, looking over at him with a tilt of her head once she had enough of the hard liquor, her voice still thick with the remnants of the song. His lips quirked, just barely, his eyes drifting over her figure. “Only when I like what I see.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, but she kept her expression even, playful. “That so?” She asked, a smirk in her lip and quirk of her brow. “That’s so.” He repeated in confirmation, then kicking his lips. Terry then leaned in just a fraction, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and cedarwood clinging to his coat.

“So much so.” He murmured, “That I might just have to get my hands on it.” Her breath caught, pulse quickening, but before she could say something sharp, something smart—before she could even decide if she wanted to—Terry’s head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering to the dance floor.

A new song had started.

Something slow. Something meant to be felt more than heard. She barely had time to set her glass down before Terry’s hand slid to her waist.

Without another word, without giving her the chance to refuse, his other hand reached for hers, his grip warm and sure as he led her away from the bar. Her breath hitched. Her heart pounded as she let him pull her into him, his palm settling low against her back. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a damn word. Just pulled her onto the dance floor.

If he wanted to play with fire, she was more than happy to let him burn.

The moment they stepped into the space, bodies made room for them. Not out of fear, not tonight, but out of knowing. Because everyone in Sugar Cane Creek had eyes. And at that moment, everyone had seen the way Terry Richmond looked at her. The way she looked back.

The tension wrapped around them thick as smoke, curling in the air, pressing against their skin.

Terry moved slow, deliberate, his hand firm at the small of her back, the other clasping hers as he pulled her close—closer than what was proper, closer than what was wise. She let him, her breath shuddering as she settled into him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. The saloon blurred around them, the lights dim, the chatter distant. None of it mattered. Not when his blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when she could feel the slow drag of his thumb against the back of her hand.

“You dance?” She murmured, her voice teasing, her lips dangerously close to his jaw. She felt him take in a breath with her chest against hers, and if she paused attention, she could’ve sworn she felt the way his heart was beating. “Only when I got reason to.” He answered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “You given me plenty.” He said, his lips close to her ear as they danced.

She swallowed that his tone so close, heat curling in her belly. “Is that so?”

His fingers flexed against her back, pulling her that last inch closer. His breath, warm and slow, ghosted over her cheek. “Mmhmm.” He hummed with a lick of his lips, the sound causing his body to rumble against hers. She exhaled softly, turning her head just enough that their noses brushed, just enough that if either of them leaned in—just a little—they’d be past the point of no return.

The music swelled, the rhythm thick and slow, wrapping around them like a promise. The way they moved now—close, slow, like something dangerous just beneath the surface—only confirmed what they both had long suspected.

His hand was firm against the small of her back, his other clasping hers as he led her through the steps. It wasn’t a fast dance, nothing rowdy or wild, but it was just as electric. Every turn, every shift, had them pressing together. His breath skimmed the shell of her ear when he leaned in, his grip tightening just enough to let her feel the strength in his arms.

“You always hold a woman this close when you dance?” She whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Terry’s lips barely curved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Only when I don’t plan on lettin’ go.” He said, his eyes inspecting every crevice her face had to offer. He didn’t know if he’d bee be this close to her again, and he was taking advantage of the blessing he had to hold her in this way, and gaze at her face as he did.

Her breath hitched.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

Lord, the way he watched her. He looked at her as if she was the only thing in the room. Like he was memorizing her in real time. She met his gaze, bold as ever, and let her fingers trail slow up his shoulder, tracing the line of his coat until her nails met the hot skin of his neck. A muscle in his jaw ticked at that. His grip on her waist flexed. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

And then, just when she thought he might tip his head and close the space, just when she thought she might lose her damn mind waiting for it—

He pulled her into the next step of the dance, smooth as silk, a satisfied glint in those blue eyes of his. He was teasing her. Daring her.

If he wanted a game, she was more than happy to play.

“Oh, is that how you want to play?” She asked, feigning innocence while her pulse quickened with anticipation.

Terry’s smirk returned, a challenge wrapped in his expression. “You started it, darlin’.” He replied, stepping into her space that was no longer available due to him, their bodies flush against one another. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, lulling her in despite the playful facade they each wore. He controlled their movements with a firm yet gentle lead, the world around them fading as she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze and the cadence of their bodies moving in sync.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smirk was knowing. Two could play that game. She let her body press just a little closer, her curves molding against the hard lines of him, her breath a warm whisper against his cheek. He swallowed, his fingers tightening against her waist, a sharp inhale the only sign of restraint.

She felt it, that slip of control, and it sent something hot through her veins. "Careful, cowboy." She murmured, voice all honey and silk. "You might not want to let go, but I ain't so sure you can handle holdin’ on."

His eyes then darkened. His grip flexed, strong fingers digging into the curve of her waist, keeping her against him like he had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not ever. Now, Terry didn’t scare easy. Didn’t flinch and didn’t fold to many.

But her?

She was dangerous in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her voice, all thick honey and slow-drawn silk, wrapped around him, testing, teasing, tempting as it spilling through his ear and ran though his veins like it was his blood. Keeping his heart pumping. He could feel the shape of her, soft and warm against the hard planes of his body, the sway of their dance turning into something far more dangerous, far more intimate.

He leaned in, just enough that his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You think I can’t handle you?” He asked, his hands drifting lower as he practically engulfed her in his body. She let out a breathy little laugh, conveniently covering the way she took in a sudden breath at his touch, one that made his pulse jump, made his restraint strain at the edges. "Wouldn’t be the first man to try and fail, cowboy.” She whispered to him, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, feeling the freshly shaved haircut he had gotten only hours prior.

Terry exhaled through his nose, amused, darkly so.

She was pushing him, daring him. And he welcomed the challenge. So he let his hand slide lower, fingers grazing the base of her spine, just above the curve of her ass, applying the slightest pressure that had her breath catching. She was quick, though. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she placed her hand on the back of his head, nails scratching ever so lightly. That same muscle in his jaw ticked again.

Her smirk widened.

That was it.

The last frayed thread of his patience snapped.

Without warning, Terry spun her, pressing her back against his front, effectively caging her in. The movement had her chest rising, her lips parting, and damn if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen as he looked down at her. His voice dropped, a low murmur only for her.

"Darlin'..." His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the side of her neck, lingering at the base of her throat. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his touch while his other hand rested low on her waist in the front, easing down to a place unimaginable in front of folks. “You’re playin’ with fire." He muttered.

She tilted her chin up, leaning her head back against his chest, gaze smoldering. "Good thing I ain't afraid to burn.” She whispered. And that was all he needed. He quickly spun her around and his mouth was on hers, rough and consuming, his kiss leaving no room for question, no space for anything but him—his hands, his body, the heat of him pressing against every part of her.

She met him with equal fervor, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth when he pressed himself fully against her. The saloon around them might as well have disappeared.

Nothing else existed in that moment. Just him and just her. That and the fire threatening to consume them both.

One moment, they were moving with the rhythm of the music, spinning slow in the dim glow of the saloon lights. The next, he was leading her off the floor, through the press of bodies, past the thick haze of cigar smoke and whiskey-scented air. The second the cool night air hit her skin, she was backed against the wooden frame of the saloon’s outer wall, the rough grain pressing into her spine, his body caging her in.

There was no more teasing, just as there was no more space between them. She barely had time to breathe before his lips found hers again. Slow, at first, like he was still savoring, still memorizing, but the second she sighed against his mouth, the second her fingers slid into his hair and pulled, something broke between them. The kiss turned hungry and deep.

Like he’d been starving for this—for her—for longer than he cared to admit.

She gasped when he gripped her thigh, hitching it up against his hip, pressing her flush against him, making her feel a bulge she that didn't know was his belt buckle, the crease of his jeans or his manhood. Heat coiled between them, urgent and burning, his mouth trailing from her lips to her jaw, down the curve of her neck. She tilted her head, giving him more, losing herself to the feel of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the quiet growl he let slip when she dragged her nails down his back. "Oh, Terry," She breathed, and damn if he didn’t shudder at the sound of it.

He lifted his head, his forehead pressing against hers, their breath mingling, their bodies still tangled together in the shadows. "I ain’t lettin’ go," He murmured, voice rough, edged with something dangerous. "Not tonight."

She grinned, breathless, running her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the slight roughness of his freshly shaven jaw. "Good." She said before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to place her lips against her. The kiss lasted for mere seconds, a mash of panting breaths and slick tongues before Terry pulled away. He didn’t say a word before he took her hand, his fingers wrapping firm around hers, rough and warm. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes, the quiet pull of his grip, said enough.

She followed him back through the saloon, past the clinking glasses and low murmur of conversation, past the haze of cigar smoke still hanging thick in the air. The wooden stairs creaked under their steps as he led her up, slow and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles against her palm like he was trying to keep himself anchored. Or like he was memorizing her touch.

She should’ve felt nervous. Should’ve felt some sense of hesitation as they moved further away from the music, from the people, from any excuse to slow this down.

But she didn’t. All she could focus on was him.

The broad stretch of his shoulders. The slow, deliberate pace of his steps. The way he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable, something that made her stomach dip and heat coil between her ribs.

They reached his door.

And for a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, facing the wood, his breath slow and measured like he was giving himself a second to think—to decide if this was a line he was ready to cross. Then, without a word, he pushed it open. The second they were inside, it changed.

The tension that had been simmering, stretching between them in the dance, in the way he watched her, in every unspoken moment leading up to this—it snapped.

She barely had time to take in the room before she was against the door, her back pressed against the worn wood, her breath stolen by the press of his body. Terry’s lips crashed against hers, no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for too damn long, like he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance again, and she felt it all. The hunger. The need. The slow, deep pull of something dangerously close to devotion.

She gasped when his hands—big, warm, calloused from work—spanned her waist, dragging her closer, molding her to him like he needed to feel every inch of her against him. His hands tacked down, bending slightly to gather the bunch of her skirt. He hiked it up, catching a feel of her warm thighs that molded under his grip. The feeling of her hands caused her to moan in his mouth, her hands moving over him feverishly as she was filled heat she was giving her. He didn’t hold back, moving his hands up for the back of her legs and gracing over the smooth skin of her ass. He tightened his grip, needing it and causing her to gasp into his mouth. He took his as an option to slip his tongue deeper, almost sucking on hers while he moved his hands to begin to untie the strings of her corset.

She didn’t hold back either. Her fingers found the buttons of his vest, fumbling with them, her hands eager and desperate to feel the heat of his skin. His breath hitched against her mouth when she dragged the fabric from his shoulders, then she felt the quiet rumble of a chuckle against her lips when she yanked his shirt free and ragged her hands down his ribbed abdomen, impatience getting the best of her.

"So eager.” He murmured against her lips, voice low and teasing.

She narrowed her eyes, nipping softly at his bottom lip with her teeth, her nails grazing down his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he took at the touch. "So are you." She purred.

And he didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he reached back down, cupped her though just under her ass, and lifted her, carrying her further into the room like she weighed nothing at all. She barely had time to register the shift before she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her, his weight pressing her down, his mouth trailing slow, lingering kisses down the column of her throat. His touch was slow and sensual, his hands finding any place to rub and caress. Like he was still memorizing, like he was savoring.

But the moment she whispered his name—breathy and wanting—something shifted again. His slow, deliberate control had snapped.

And neither of them held back anymore.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him closer as if she was trying to meld them into one. Terry's breath caught as his bulge hit her core, his hands gripped her tighter, holding her as if he were afraid she might slip away. The world outside faded -no clinking glasses, no murmurs, just the vibrant thud of their hearts battling for attention in the silence between their kisses. Their mouths slid together with a hunger that left her breathless. Every kiss deepened the fire sparking between them, waves of adrenaline crashing over her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer as he dipped down to claim her throat once more. He kissed his way down, worshipping her skin with heated touches and soft bites, igniting every nerve ending in her body.

"Tell me what you want.” He murmured against her collarbone, his breath hot against the cool air of the room. “Come on, tell me baby. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He breathed out. There was something dangerously tender in his rough but needy words, as if he genuinely wanted to know-not just in the heat of the moment, but in that space where everything was laid bare.

She didn't hesitate. "You. All of you. Right here, right now, baby. Give it to me." It was a wild and brisk admission, and a thrill shot through her at the honesty in her voice. She could feel Terry's pulse quicken at her words, a primal urge coursing through him. He raised his head, looking directly into her eyes, and in that moment, she understood. This was more than a fleeting encounter. This was a collision of desires that had been simmering for far too long.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dove back into her mouth, a feverish kiss that stole her thoughts and drowned her in pleasure. She felt the weight of him press into her, his body a delicious contradiction of strength and softness. He paused for the briefest moment to catch her gaze, the heat in his eyes burning deeper than before, and she sensed the shift—not just in the proximity of their bodies, but in the intensity of everything that hung between them.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, pulling back just enough for her to see the uncertainty mingled with desire in his eyes. She could sense it— the weight of the moment, the gravity of their choices. "Absolutely.” She replied, her heart racing with certainty. She reached for him again, pulling him closer, and felt a grin split his face as he dove into her once more, taking her breath and leaving nothing but a breathless gasp in its wake.

Their clothes were off in an instant.

Once her corset was off and the full expanse of her skin was showing, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart's content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. "I love the way you sound." He said before grumbling out her name.

"Yeah?" She sighed, eyes closed as she took in the feeling of his tongue as he licked up her sternum. "I love the way you say my name." She breathed.

"Yeah?" Terry releated as his hands drifted lower in her body. “ I love your body. Your perfect." He paused to place a kiss on her stomach. “Perfect.” Another kiss, this time below her belly button. “Perfect, body.” He finished, his warm breath blowing on her core. His hands moved from her waist, deriding lower to ease her legs apart as he took in the sigh before him. He audibly moaned at the sight, practically drooling as he looked at her. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered. He wanted to taste all she had to offer. Before she could sink in, She placed her hand on his head, pushing his head back. “Wait.” She said.

Terry looked up at her, his large blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “What is it baby?” He asked, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her form laid out before him. Her eyes sifted away from his stare, biting at her bottom lip before she spoke. “I…I’ve never had a fella go down there before.” She said softly.

Terry’s smirk faded, his expression shifting into something softer, something reverent. He rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs stroking slow and reassuring circles against her skin, before he placed his head on her bender knee. “Ever?” He asked. His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, but there was no judgment—just understanding, just care. And something a little more that neither of them knew.

She shook her head, eyes darting away, almost shy. “Ain’t never been with a man who wanted to.” She shrugged a bit, still biting at her lower lip.

Terry exhaled sharply, his brows pulling together for the briefest moment, like the thought alone frustrated him. He cupped the side of her thigh, grounding her, making sure she felt him, felt the sincerity in his touch.

“Well.” He said, voice warm and steady, “You got one now.”

Her eyes flickered back to his, searching, cautious. But all she found was certainty. His lips brushed against her skin, his breath warm as he murmured, “You just tell me what feels good, darlin’. I got you. I just want you to play back. You ain’t gotta worry no more.” He said, his voice going back into the deep ruble that set her ablaze. And the way he said it—so sure, so gentle—made something deep in her chest tighten. Because she believed him.

So that’s what she did, ladies back against the pillows and open her legs further, barring it all and offering it to him. And Terry took it with life, gratitude, as well as pure lust. Like a magnet, Terry's fingers found their way to her slick lips as he gathered wetness before dragging his skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle before he pressed his lips against her plump thigh, squeezing with the other hand. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

He then lunged forward with hunger, letting his tongue do all the talking, slithering inside of her warm walls as his nose nudged her clit. She tensed up with every nudge, let out small pants at the unfamiliar yet raviging feeling that washed over her. He glanced down, watching as he freely put his face in her center. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of her, her pussy glistening like he just doused her in oil.

"Ohh, look at you, baby.” The grumble that came deep from within his throat as he watched her cute clenched around nothing as she continued to whine from the loss of contact from above. And his green eyes on her most intimate parts made it so hard not to get hot and bothered even with him not doing anything. Her poor nub was jumping with excitement as he used his large fingers to spread her lips open. “Look who’s happy to see me." He said as he took in a sharp breath, feeling her slick coating his fingers, the sound of her wetness loud within the room. “You happy to see me, hun? Huh?“ He questioned, looking up at her.

She moan and nodded eagerly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth at the stimulation he was giving her down under. Terry smiled at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, looking into her large orbs that were filled with pleasure and a slight sheen of tears at his touch, but her pussy that just kept sucking his fingers in had him in a trance as his sick standing at attention in his underwear. “Tell me you’re happy I’m down here. Making you feel so good.” He demanded. His tone didn’t leave anymore for defiance, which she took as she angered him. “I’m so happy you’re here, Terry. You feel so good, baby.” She whined out as best as she could, breaths short and rocked her hips into his fingers.

"Mmm, yeah, I know.” Terry grinned. “When the last time sometime touched you, huh?" He asked, but this time he got no response watching as she began to reach her high and feeling her clench around his finger. Tweeting pulled his hand back at that, causing the woman to whine at the loss of contact. “Tell me, hun, and we can continue.” He said.

"I-I don't remember.” She said, and she was telling the truth, she truly couldn't. It had to be nothing worth remembering, especially in comparison to what he was making her feel now.

"Well, I’m gon’ make sure you remember this, hear" He then bent down to deliver a bite to her plush thigh, almost as if he was warning her for what's to come before he dove his face back into her heat, slurping at her hard and soaked clit. Her belly was doing summersaults, she could barely contain her volume at the feeling of his long and warm muscle working a magic she’s never felt before. But her sounds were the last of his worries, they were actually only fuel to his already burning fire.

As he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned in her, letting he know and feel that he was having just as much fun as she was.

Her legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, her hands gripping onto the white sheets of the inn bed since that was all she had to hold on to after he practically ripped her’s and his clothes off beforehand.

"Yes! Yes, oh, yes! I'm so close, Terry baby.” She struggled to keep her eyes on him even with his staring back up at her over her pudge, his eyes low lidded and dark. They beckoned her to stay, to not go levee the edge just yet, but her pleasure had came rolling through like a monsoon and wiped all the thoughts from her brain. She was a shaking, blubbering mess under his weight as he continued to lick and eat at her juices. He moved his mouth away from her pussy only to replace it with his hand, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he subconsciously moved her hips.

"Just feel it, baby. Let it happen.” He cooed in that sexy country drawl. She tried to fight against his hand, her thighs subconsciously closing around his wrist. But he smacked his large hand into her juicy thighs and kept at it with his other hand until he felt like he was done. "Be still and met it happen, baby." He cooed, enticing another moan from the woman. She felt like she was literally about to float up into the heavens, her back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

"Okay! Oh, Fuck!" She screamed. “Yes, Terry!” He moved his hand to allow her to go through the motions, watching as she twitched until that special feeling left her center. "Good job, baby.” He said, pressing a soft kiss on her thighs. “Good job, my pretty girl." Another kiss from him was placed beside her opened mouth as heavy breathing left as he moved up her body.

As the tremors faded from her body, she lay there, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim lights of the room. Her limbs felt weightless, boneless, as if she’d melted right into the bed.

Terry was still there, right where he had been, his hands firm on her thighs, holding her steady like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. He pressed slow, lingering kisses to the inside of her knee, then another, trailing up, as if savoring the aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his expression unreadable at first—like he was memorizing her in this moment, like he was trying to etch the sight of her pleasure into his bones. A slow, lazy smirk then tugged at his lips. “Ain’t never seen somethin’ so damn pretty.” His voice was rough, thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers finding their way into his hair, rubbing lightly. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, cowboy.” She smirked. Terry hummed with chortle, leaning into her touch, his hands sliding up to rest at her waist as he crawled up beside her. “Ain’t about makin’ you feel special.” He murmured against her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You already are.”

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way he said it—so simple, so certain. She turned her head to look at him, finding those piercing blue eyes already on her, unwavering. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no need to.

Instead, she reached for him, guiding his face to hers, and kissed him slow—letting him feel exactly how much she believed him. She slowly came back to herself with her lips attached to his, still basking in the warmth of his touch. She let her fingers trail down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his briefs. She could feel the way his breath hitched, bus bulge rubbing against her. The tension still coiled tight in his body despite the easy way he lay beside her.

A slow smirk pulled at her lips as she traced top of his boxers, slipping her hand into them with practiced ease. “Reckon I should return the favor.” She murmured, her voice soft, teasing.

But before she could go any further, Terry’s hand caught hers—not rough, not forceful, just firm enough to stop her in place. She looked up, brows furrowing in confusion, but the look in his eyes made her pause. “Ain’t about that.” He said quietly, his voice still thick, still warm, but full of something deeper. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing slow circles into the back of her hand. “You just came down from somethin’ real intense, darlin’. I just wanna hold you right now.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his words, by the tenderness in them. “Terry, I—”

“I know.” He gave her a small, lazy smile, shifting so he could pull her closer against him. “We got time for all that. Just… let me have this. Let me have you right here in this exact moment. We might not ever get it again.”

And the way he said it, like holding her in his arms was just as much of a pleasure as anything else, sent something warm through her chest. They wet her already planned for this to be sitting more made her body flutter in a way only he can make happen. She sighed, settling against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s my good girl.” He said before placing a kiss on her warm skin.

And with that, they stayed there, tangled up in each other, letting the night stretch out slow and easy.

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cowboyschumi · 3 days ago

Text

MUSE

Summary: Oscar is known for being bad at padel, which is why he tries other hobbies, like photography. Now, he clearly needs something to take photos of.

Author's note: Oscar trying to play paddel 🤏

I'm a huge fan of taking inspiration from songs, so you can listen to this. Don't forget to enjoy the reading and show some love. <3

Warnings: None ig.

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Oscar had to be grateful for being that good of a driver. Man, he was really bad at other sports. Everyone pointed it out and made fun of him, some people even pitied him or found it cute. He even tried golfing, but that racket was his last straw. He was a bit frustrated, but Oscar wasn’t the type to get frustrated and give up. He just accepted the fact that he wasn’t gifted enough.

His Instagram was— for his luck because he wasn't a media guy— managed by a social media professional, who made him posts and even took charge of taking pictures. Yes, none of his dumps, captions, or stories were posted by his own hands, which was crazy. He wanted some sort of control over that, after all, he had a voice and a platform. Not taking advantage of that would be a shame, besides there was no fun and genuine part if he wasn't the one behind his Instagram. So he decided to take it more seriously, it made his brain hurt in the most untolerable ways but he started to post more, engage with his fans.

Instagram dumps are such a religious thing for some people, he wasn't in that group until now. Having a picture perfect Instagram would let people have more connection with the places, his interests— perceive him differently and not some boring and flat boy with not much to say.

Like any driver, he had a stylist, a PR team, and other fancy stuff—which he didn’t like much because the main focus was on him, physically. His content was different now; it was full of sunsets, yachts, cars, and food pictures. He had to thank his team for lending him a professional camera—it made the quality ten times better.

"It's a lost cause." Oscar spoke as he carelessly dried his hair with a towel.

You vividly remember the first time he stepped into one of your classes—the typical shy kid who barely spoke. Other drivers came along with him, doing most of the talking, but they weren’t consistent in attending. For them, padel was just a way to kill time. Oscar, on the other hand, wanted to know everything about it—from the size of the court to executing the perfect shot with his racket. A few weeks after his first class, he started booking lessons on his own, demanding more focus and dedication.

He came around twice a week, and seeing him so often, you quickly grew close. So it wasn’t surprising to find him frequently emerging from the showers at the padel club. You had even learned to tolerate his wannabe tennis grunts when he hit the ball. At this point, you had already seen the worst of him.

"You’re just being hard on yourself. Not everything has to be perfect."

Like in any common locker room, there was a bench where people placed their clothes after showering. You sat there as you two talked.

No matter how comfortable you were around Oscar, you respected him, so you made a point of not looking at his shirtless torso.

"Don't give me a pity speech. I’ve heard enough of that." He really did sound tired of hearing it. But it was true—no one should be too hard on themselves for not meeting their highest expectations. Striving for perfection in everything wasn’t normal. Oscar’s mindset was too rigid, and being optimistic felt like an impossible task for him.

"Webber told me you started… photography? He even sounded worried about what you might do with that." Chuckles and laughter echoed through the warm changing room.

"Yeah, I mean, it’s pretty great. Still got a lot to work on," he admitted sincerely, making that classic uncertain face he always did when he wasn’t sure about something. His facial expressions were always amusing. "I got bored of photographing the plants on my balcony at home. Took some photos of Lando, and Hattie doesn’t even want the lens near her."

Laughter filled the room again—it felt like a comedy show at this point. But when it faded, you exchanged a tense glance, as if communicating telepathically. A mischievous smirk lit up his face.

"No." Your answer was immediate and firm, anticipating what was coming.

"I haven’t even said anything!" He raised his hands in mock innocence, his guilty smile still in place. Oh, you knew him too well.

"I won’t. I’m not photogenic."

"Please, just one time."

Oscar always swore on one-time things. But when something felt good, you tended to repeat it. He knew exactly how to take advantage of your kindness, always asking for harmless favors—because, in the end, you never said no to him.

————————————————————————

And there you were, in his Monaco apartment, on a morning when rain was pouring outside. Oscar always pointed out the differences between his current lifestyle and the one he had in Australia, the daily longing for home. That small place in Europe had its charm, and he wouldn’t complain, but he missed the wide-open spaces, the warmer weather, and even his mom’s cooking. Now he lived on the highest floor of the busiest avenue, in a cramped apartment so small that he barely had space to walk around.

"I brought donuts and coffee," You announced while cleaning your boots on the entrance mat.

"Cool, thank you. Would you mind sitting by the window? The light is majestic." His attention was focused on his camera, probably adjusting some tricky settings.

"Already bossing around?" Unbelievable. The kid already thought he was a professional photographer, giving orders and having the worst attitude.

You had a big trench coat on, surprisingly still soaked after the unstoppable rain. And it kept coming—people still struggling with their umbrellas, cars almost floating down the street. That’s what you could see from how high his apartment was.

The brown-eyed boy placed his face behind his huge, intimidating camera, yet somehow, you didn’t feel intimidated by it—after all, he was the one taking the photos. But then, an unexpected expression of discontent crossed his face, confusing you. Your brows furrowed instantly, maybe you weren’t pretty enough to be photographed. You relaxed your body, stopped posing—that was it. At least you tried.

"Take it off." Oscar’s index finger pointed at my jacket, his face continued hidden behind the camera. The view was limited, but his expression remained unreadable—no emotion, all seriousness. Clueless.

"It's freezing cold outside, you're insane." Despite your protest, you did as he told you—just like always, hating yourself for it. Your body leaned against the nearly immense open window, the breeze sneaked through with ease, making your skin shiver. Your face card wasn’t your main attribute, maybe your toned padel body was. Still, you couldn’t quite grasp why he chose you, considering all the contacts and friends he had. Favors were an unbreakable thing between you two, but, of course, you never owed him a thing.

A few more adjustments, and his camera was down again, poker face still tattooed all over him. With slow, measured steps, he walked closer until he stood right in front of you. His mannerisms were always soft and gentle, like he had been written by a woman. Not exactly naive, but delicate enough to make you feel safe and comfortable in his presence.

Oscar set your coat aside, draping it over his vintage couch. His whole place had that aesthetic. You especially loved the Abu Dhabi carpet that stretched across the floor, its deep reddish tones were delightful. His eyes couldn’t help but dart down your slim silhouette. Your white sleeveless shirt, drenched from the rain, clung to your curves, turning entirely translucent against your skin.

Finally, your eyes connected, and you desperately searched for answers, whether in his gaze or through words. The driver was entirely focused on his task, calculating angles, observing the natural lighting, and analyzing your body. Over-analyzing your body.

You knew that look—the one men gave when they stared too long, leaving a disgusting feeling. But Oscar wasn’t like that. Yes, he was staring, but with such admiration and adoration that, for once, you didn’t mind. For the first time in a long time, you felt pretty. Feminine. Reaching that level of femininity wasn’t easy. Padel and sports had always shaped your image, conditioning you to appear tough, stereotypically masculine. But under his gaze, all of that melted away.

You broke eye contact as the staring became too overwhelming for your liking, exceeding your daily dose of attention. You couldn’t just escape him because he was there, and you were working, or something like that. Your breathing hitched, and you involuntarily let out a low gasp at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch was cold, just like your body. The only warmth came from the fire igniting in your cheeks. His fingers hooked around one of your white straps, which had fallen out of place.

God, you wished you could say a word, anything, but you were petrified.

“You look gorgeous.”

“You just say that hoping I’d say yes to another photoshoot. Your guinea pig.” The back-and-forth banter and sarcastic flirting didn’t end, but now you were playing silly enough to avoid any heartfelt compliment. You didn’t like those types of things because you never knew how to react, especially when they came from him. His contagious laughter filled the room and your world turned upside down.

Something always lingered between you two, and it was the expectedly obvious, taking into account the amount of time you spent together—padel mornings or sometimes afternoons, dinner nights if class ended late, and when he actually managed to wake up to his multiple alarms, cycling together. But it was casual because you never knew what could cross a man's mind; spending a whole day together could mean nothing to them, maybe he even saw you in a sisterly way. So you tried to chill, not giving it much importance—because, again, a compliment could mean nothing.

His free hand found its way to your nape, resting his palm there, barely cradling it. You had no choice but to regain eye contact; he had you cornered with his gaze—physically, too. Any cold once brought by the winter weather had vanished. Your skin was hot, almost burning. Oscar's gaze didn’t reflect frenzy or desire; he looked lost, even stunned.

“Let me kiss you, please.” He murmured hopelessly, his words caressing and sweetening your ears in the most shivering way.

“Oscar, professionally is not the best to-” It was just a matter of seconds before he silenced you in the most cliché way possible. His kisses mirrored his personality—timid and shy, as if he were afraid to go too far. Yet, at the same time, they were sweet and innocent, like a first kiss, completely inexperienced.

Something that you clearly weren't used to.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even more close, letting each other feel how you teetered, how you edged by just a kiss. Your consent gave him more confidence, turning the encounter into something deeper, sloppier. His lips parted against yours with more urgency, the hesitation melting away as the two of you let each other get lost in the moment. His breath was uneven, intoxicatingly mixing with yours. The kiss grew needier, desperate, and hungry. The sound of your teeth crashing messily together was secondary as his tongue brushed against your lips, savoring, tasting, before he dared to explore further. The slick warmth, the breathy sounds between kisses, the way his body pressed against yours—it was thrilling in the best way.

“I never really liked padel that much, nor was I good at it. There was no chance of improving. But you know why I kept coming back.” Oscar's smile emerged in the middle of the kiss, his tone playful, hinting that he knew he’d been doing something wrong just for the fun of it. Paying for extra classes just to see your face more than once a week? Genius move.

“Oh, I'm so gonna kill you.” You warned him, still in disbelief, that he’d been such a fool, especially since you would’ve said yes to any date prior if he’d only had the courage. There was no need for this extreme and unnecessary padel. But, still, seeing him struggle was part of your routine—and you enjoyed it. Not wanting to hear any lame excuses, you pulled him in, deciding to stay glued to his lips for a very long time

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 drivers #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fic #cowboyschumi #cowboyschumi writes #formula one fic #op #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 fic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff

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gnohomotho · 1 day ago

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May I play with you?「✦Pt.2✦」

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: Oh man, you're screwed. Can you save your friend? Can you play the game right? Or are your cards all wrong, closed off with a deranged man who is enthralled with you? Simple truth or dare, or is it far worse for you? And is that large hand caressing your thigh more intricate than you thought? This one is roller-coaster, please strap in. Warnings: I think I may see what everyone saw in this hot lunatic NSFW language, obsession, kidnapping, bondage, gagging, guns, using said guns, abuse, fondling, drugging, no consent and dubious consent, mentions of death, threat of death, mentions of sexual themes and a very enamoured maniac. MDNI, 18+. Porn with a plot. Word count: 6k A/N: *chuckles* I'm in danger. ˙ᵕ˙ Seriously, this man is quite something, doing my best here but I do finally see why so many requests featured this handsome mother----. Link to previous Link to next If you enjoy my works, I'm grateful for every like // reblog // follow // request // message! ♥

Mishko, Mishko, Mishko…

You ran.

The train would take too long.

You dodged dark streets and glittering puddles, streetlamps casting an orange glow that only helped fuel your desperation. Your eyes, momentarily dizzy from each scene leaving a burnt image of itself the faster you ran, darted to your phone screen, and you followed the little red square as if life depended on it. Masterfully dodging inhabitants, your own feet, reflecting puddles.

Every light was hope you clung to. The rhythmic move of your dark tights blurring against the reflective surfaces reminding you to hurry.

Surely he isn’t that unhinged, surely this is all a big stupid joke. Maybe Mishko put you up to this.

Maybe he’s in on it, yes, you huff as you turn another corner into a dark alley, coat flying behind you. You didn’t even notice it start to rain again. Droplets cling to your hair which clings to your face.

You stop before what looks like a motel. A tall building with a burnt-out sign, barely flickering a pink glow around letters that no longer work. It has begun to pour.

Your hair clings to your head and your shoulders, as if trying to shield you from the oncoming inevitable.

You walk up the soaked path, noting the dead flower garden. Though you detest roses, you’d give anything to see some kind of life reassure you that life indeed has a place in the decrepit building.

Doorbell? Knock? Tear down the door? No time for that, you look at your phone one last time to make sure you’re breaking into the right place and run against it shoulder first.

It was unlocked and you fall inside unceremoniously, catching yourself mid-stumble.

Your coat only just now catching up whooshes past your legs and swings back, the crinkling sound and your hurried breaths the only thing you can register. Everything is so eerily…silent.

Like a forest with no life, indicating a predator on the prowl.

“Mishko?!”

You yell into unlit hallways, the ominous reddish pink barely reflected from the outside the only means of light. This place won’t even let light in, let alone hope.

Nothing. Nobody answers.

Just the tapping and flow of rain on a tin roof, drips and water hitting the ground, the downpour covering all else.

You begin to check each empty room, each room with a door, anything. So hectic you don’t notice your breath and vision unable to keep up. You’ve wrapped your arms around you, and you don’t even notice. If anyone were to see you, they’d think someone stole Death’s cape and was trying to blend in with little success.

All you get in return is creaking floorboards, the stench of rotting wood, and a place that looks at best deserted. At worst like the cliché scene of a murder.

How did I manage to turn this into such a tragedy in a matter of minutes?

You drag the hair out of your face and stare ahead. The way up is blocked. One room left. One more shaky breath, as deep as you can muster in your burning shallow lungs. Your fists clench.

You dart to the door, but rest your hand on the doorknob, not moving. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You’re…so sure yet terrified.

It all feels so…gaudily maquette-like. Fake. Like you’re unknowingly on a theatre stage, not knowing the play for the amusement of an unseen audience.

Until you open the door, this is all just a bad dream and none of it counts. No real-world repercussions. Until you twist the knob on the door. You feel water on your cheeks and realise it is no longer rain. Almost angrily does your hand shoot up, pushing the moisture from your eyes – you need to see clearly, not cry, for goodness’ sake. Even though your lips are quivering and your breath running through a barely open throat, your resolve strengthens.

You kick the door open ready to jump at or be jumped, but you are ready.

Yet the sight that greeted you left you as unprepared as could be.

Your colleague, your friend, sits tied up, mouth gagged, eyes carved with terror and tension.

They meet yours with utter confusion and blind fear. The moment he sees you, he immediately stops blinking, pleading at you with no words, arms wrestling against the ropes. His head is shaking so vigorously you see droplets of sweat fly away, even in the pale-yellow light from the streetlamps outside. You’re almost paralysed but act on nothing but impulse and placid resolve to get him out.

“Mishko!” Your voice is barely a cracked tone, you’re chilled to the bone and shaking but cannot let your friend be hurt. Continue to be hurt.

“Hold on, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

You run to him, kneel to him, softly placing a hand on each cheek, his forehead, checking his body for harm. No blood. No bruises. Yet. You put his shaking face in your own shivering hands and cup his cheeks.

“Please, just nod or shake your head. Are you hurt?”

You gaze into his soft dark eyes darting back and forth chaotically, tears streaming down his face.

But he shakes his head, and you feel the vibrations going through him, his stifled breathing, his attempts to speak.

You pull his face to yours and lay your forehead on his, knowing that calms him down when he’s panicked. “Oh, thank god, Mishi, Mishi...” And you’re also providing a human shield should anyone wish to visit.

With a gentle whisper, you try to assess the situation and look like you’re not panicking out of your mind yourself.

He’s tied to a chair, there’s furniture in the room, a window. The dark red carpet doesn’t do anything to ease your mind, and the walls are ostentatiously empty. No potential weapons. One way out.

You look back at him, his eyes visibly wishing to convey something. With a slow gaze you follow his chaotic movements and whisper once more, slowly, barely above the rain outside.

“Are we alone?”

His eyes stop darting like tennis balls across the room and gaze into you with utter desperation. Very slowly his head moves to make an almost unnoticeable motion from left to right.

Your heart drops.

You guide your hands to his cheeks and try to hush both him and yourself again.

“Shh, Mishi, it’s ok. I’ll get you out of here.” Fuck fuck fuck… “It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” Why are you lying to the both of you?

You fling the coat down for more range of motion and resolve to compartmentalise – the gag. Then ropes. Then window.

Although the light provided should be enough, and your fingers are usually long and nimble, the gag is well knotted, and you can’t seem to get rid of it yourself even though you’re doing your level best.

Fingers shaking, paralyzed, losing feeling. Rain pouring through your thoughts. You feel your own mind begin to try to leave the horrendous situation but you drag it back kicking and screaming.

With exasperation and a huffed curse you leave the back of his head unable to undo the gag, instead endeavouring to fish out your phone---but suddenly your friend starts frantically shaking his head, staring above you and behind you, looking to your phone and vigorously trying to convey disagreement.

“No…phone? Ok…don’t worry.” You go back to him, trying to undo the ropes instead, but you did dial out a small emergency number. Just didn’t press ‘call’.

“Got it. I’ll get you out.” You both inadvertently yet subconsciously hold him through the ropes as you lower to get rid of the restraints and search for a way to undo the knots. They’re good, but the ropes were too thick for any intricacies.

“Almost…almost…”

You’re breathing so fast that the sharp intakes of air are actively hurting your throat.

The sharp movements and concentration against your own cold shivers and the hush of rain outside completely envelop you, and you don’t notice something very important.

Your friend has stopped fidgeting under you.

Even though your arm is halfway around him fighting with the restraints, his heart beating into it is the only motion you feel now. His breathing is low, turned to muffled whimpers. His body language is pointed to a single source, no longer aiding your rescue attempts. A chill runs through you.

“Mishko?” You barely utter his name, fear gripping your shoulders.

Just as you were before the door, now you do not wish to continue the next few seconds lest you find out the source of his paralysis and breath turned to whimpers. Your eyes are caught in a wide look into nowhere, clutching your friend’s chest with your arm unmoving, and you do not wish to recognize what made his startled breath stop.

And the source was delighted to make itself known.

❥❥❥

The voice carves through the thick silence; through rain, through caught breaths, through your shivers turning the atmosphere blurry, like a hot knife through butter.

��What a pair of lovebirds.”

The familiar voice.

That self-satisfied smile.

That curve of inflection that could be making a sales pitch.

All have been burnt into your brain; you don’t even have to turn around to see. And you don’t. You cup your friend’s face once more and stare directly into his eyes, ignoring the visitor entirely for one last whisper.

“Look at me. Mishi. I’ll get you out. It’s ok. It’s all ok. I promise, I’ll get you out.”

A firm hand on your cold, soaked through shoulder reminded you of how futile your words felt. The shirt clung to your skin so closely that his fingers felt like they were directly on you with no layer between, exacerbated by the sensitivity of your tingling neck.

You shake out of the grip, pushing the hand away as you would a worrisome insect, and spin around. Now face to face with what you knew was waiting for you, but hoped against hope against it.

In dim light reflecting orange streetlamps and burnt out pink signs, half enveloped in shadows now in full height driving nails of frost through your spine…

Is that charming face, reptile-like smile, the smart suit, and the eyes…eyes far darker than you remember from the subway.

Looking down at you with such feigned pity your heart skips several beats, and your breath catches in your throat anew.

❥❥❥

“Clever girl…” he articulates to himself with feigned surprise, as he rests his hand back to his side, almost hurt that you deprived him of your touch so fast.

But he continues, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. His eyes are following your friend, reminding you of a predator satisfied with its ensnared prey and enjoying the seconds before its feast.

“The lady got here so fast I didn’t even get a say in the way the evening was going to go,” he sighs, leaning into the area behind you as if he’s reading the latest headline of Gardening Weekly.

Calm. Jovial. Nonchalant.

You cannot even gather a reply; you’re in a state of shock. Your friend’s muffled crying slaps you in the face and you shake through and through, mustering the words.

“What the hell, what in the god damn hell is wrong with you?! He didn’t do anything---”

The salesman’s hand lifts to his face with a single finger resting against his smiling lips.

“Hush, miss Y/N. Nobody’s harmed…just yet.” He smiles his cheshire grin and steps closer. You don’t step back, firmly planted between the man and your friend.

Amusement flickers in his eyes. Almost a hint of affection curled in something depraved and waiting, yearning to leap out.

“Brave little lady, aren’t you…” his hand lifts to your cheek and you still.

Refuse.

To move.

His eyebrows lift, and he makes a small, cut off movement to your skin. Teasing. Closing the distance.

Then another.

Those lips slightly open, the plastic smile, those dark eyes piercing you…was that an “ah?” sound as he moved to you?

You still don’t flinch.

“And. One. More.” He smiles as he brushes your skin.

Eyes so sickeningly soft and hands so falsely gentle you feel nauseous.

Suddenly, the salesman grabs your cheeks into his hand, his large palm and long fingers easily able to hold your jaw and dig into your skin with no effort at all.

“Very brave little lady…” his words curl into a slow purr in exaggerated amusement. He pulls his hand away, leaving you with red indentations on each cheek and an aching shivering jaw.

“Perhaps…a very naïve little lady. With such adorable new dimples.” His head cranes to one side, studying you. As he straightens slowly, brushing down his suit, he simply asks as if nothing were terribly wrong:

“Now that we’re all here, how about a game?”

❥❥❥

Truth or dare?!

Did you hear that right?

“Truth or dare…?” You utter, the salesman nodding with a polite, closed-lip smile. Somehow, the man is closer to you than he seemed before. You can once again smell his cologne, the spicy mix of his contemptuous persona and effort he must be putting into this play.

“Quite self-explanatory. Dare – one of you must do as they are told, or there will be consequences.”

You don’t even manage to muster a flinch as he pulls out a gun in place of a spinner.

You know you’d flinch back into him, slowly realising how far ahead he thinks in the game behind the game.

As he lays his briefcase down beside the table, he leans into you, brushing the tip of your ear as if whispering a secret.

His hand strokes your hair as he does so, periodically, ever so lightly.

You feel his hot breath on each millimetre of your earlobe and neck, driving ice through your back anew. He remains there before speaking, as if knowing exactly what he’s doing to you and relishing it.

“And truth, as in, ‘truth be told, I would far prefer my little lady in place of her boring paramour as we speak, tied and pleading with those big doll eyes of hers that leave me no rest, begging for me’ but rules should be respected.” His smile never fades as he pulls away and sees you visibly shiver from your toes to your ears.

❥❥❥

All three of you sit at the dingy table, the gun lying in the middle.

The salesman kindly did undo your friend’s gag but left him tied up. You can see Mishko's mind racing and his mouth uttering unsaid words, eyes darting from you to the salesman and back to the gun on the table repetitively. His soft brown hair clings to his forehead as yours does to your skin, though it’s through sweat and tears – and you want nothing more than to reassure him.

Yet you’re very aware that every word can and will be used against you.

You don’t want to tempt the volatile substance of a man now uncomfortably close to your side – you feel like you’re swimming in a room full of ether trying not to light a match with each breath.

The salesman remains ever jovial.

“I think the lady should go first.” He coos, cocking his head to you, sinking those eyes into yours. How is his hair still perfectly in place, how does he still look charming while I feel like I’m the one to blame and doing everything wrong?!

You touch the gun and make sure to not even brush the trigger, motioning it to spin. The barrel points to the salesman.

“Oh my…” he turns to you, self-satisfied eyes closed into coin slots and a smile playing with each corner of his mouth. He leans into you, so close your noses threaten to touch and whispers:

“Dare.”

“I dare you to let him go.” You reply, in monotone, not pulling away. Not playing his game.

He pulls away in feigned disappointment, mouth curling into a frown.

“How disappointing…but no, I can’t do that, we wouldn’t have enough players. The game wouldn’t work. Try again, little lady, and…try to play fair.” He nudges the gun with a single finger never letting his gaze off you. “I don’t like to be bored.”

“Take away any weapons you still have on you, your phone, any recording devices – all electronics, anything – take it out and place it far away from reach.” Your mind was racing, you tried to think of something better – like daring him to take out every single bullet from the gun’s chamber, but you were sure the rules wouldn’t let you sabotage the game.

Wordlessly, he shifts through his pockets, still gazing at you. Nothing.

Breast pocket, nothing. A pat in a playful manner to indicate emptiness, you hate him so much in this moment your eyes will set fire to the table.

With a single circular elegant leg motion, he slides his briefcase away from the ground below the table, circling his leg back and laying a hand on your thigh as he straightens back into the chair.

“Such a clever girl.”

He spins the gun, still resting his other hand on your thigh. The place where he caresses seems to burn straight through into the chair. You daren’t move and feel the outline of his watch digging into your skin as he ever so teasingly moves his hand up.

The gun lands on your friend, whose eyes dart from the barrel to your face, wordlessly pleading for help. Your lips curl into a voiceless whisper of his name, trying to say “don’t worry, it’s ok” but he doesn’t look like he’s even remotely there.

His eyes dart to your legs to see the contrast of a large hand covering your upper thigh, almost digging into your tender flesh as you sit, paralysed, and it seems the gears in his head are spinning for dear life.

Once more you understand that you’re behind on the game behind the game; he’s not the only piece of collateral in this room. He’s playing you against each other while the both of you are each other’s bargaining chips.

“T…truth…” his shaky voice stumbles out, and you realise it’s the first time this cursed evening you’ve heard him speak. It hits you like a brick of reality – it’s not a game, the gun is loaded, and you’re fucked.

“Mishi…” you whisper, unable to contain the fear and sorrow and in your voice, unable to stop the worry lining your face from spilling out. Don’t try anything. Please let me take care of it.

The salesman smiles and rubs your thigh, momentarily letting you go as he gathers his hands under his chin, gazing from you straight into your friend. He leans into his words and the table creaks in utter indifference.

“Do you love her?”

❥❥❥

That self-satisfied cheshire grin, as if he laid down a royal flush. Your heart stopped in your throat. The man before you, frozen in place. Everything could have stopped breathing and held its breath, and you wouldn’t notice.

You’re growing dizzy, this must be a bad dream. Just a bad dream. This is so stupid, so fucked up, so stupid!

Your friend looks like he’s going to be sick.

“As…as…a…friend…friend…y--yes…”

Perhaps it was your hypervigilance, your head-counting proclivities, but you could sense the atmosphere stiffen around you, air growing hard to breathe. Did you imagine it, or did the man beside you somehow darken without moving a brow? You say nothing, but your eyes growing wide and inability to speak say enough. You don’t take another breath.

Both your hand and the hand of the salesman darted for the gun at the same time, only yours failed to grab it first and landed straight on the salesman’s wrist.

With undue resolve you do not let go, trying to keep his pinned arm locked and unable to raise from the table.

From the corner of your eye which is darting from your friend to the gun, you see a head lift in amusement and slowly lean down to one side, mouth growing from an open expression of entertained indulgence into a closed mouth grin, watching you from your periphery.

“Amusing, little lady. As much as I enjoy your tender fingers grabbing me, do let go. Or I will be forced to end the game prematurely for lack of viable players.”

With heavy reluctance, you let go of his wrist, pulling your arm away.

“Don’t hurt him. Don’t break the rules. Please.”

It’s barely a whisper and he doesn’t react. Merely takes the gun and places a finger on the trigger.

“I truly dislike people who do not listen. People who speak so much and say so little. I detest people who are impolite, people who break the rules so carefully put in place to protect them, people who think they can just skirt by and cheat and…” he stands up, gun pointed straight at your friend, “…waste my time and my breath. Say it once, why say it again? Let’s see…” he lets the gun grow limp in his hand, checking the chamber.

“Mhhm.” The gun is pointing at your friend again. The salesman’s stance is straight, arm outstretched, a perfect line with the gun’s barrel.

“First time player’s privilege,” he says, the joy leaving his voice entirely. “Answer truthfully, one last chance.”

“Y…yes, I do, I …I…love her, please…please…don’t shoot----I----”

The gunshot rings through your ears leaving your head a ringing, blurry mess and your voice sounding screams without your influence into a slow-motion void.

For a moment you cannot see, won’t look, growing sick from the sudden chaos and noise and a heart stopped with the unforgiving shot.

Forcing yourself to open your eyes into the smoke and horror, you see the salesman still holding the gun. He is unmoving, dominant arm cocked slightly to the side of your friend’s shivering form. A bullet hole gapes in the wall behind him, narrowly missing his head.

“Was it that hard?” He purrs, sitting back down, straightening his suit as he does so. Treating the gun as a mere extension of his arm, nothing more.

He lays it back on the table and spins it. Through the fog and frozen shock, you register something about your friend being in no position to spin, favours, you don’t know anymore, you want to drop dead or faint or just wake up…

“Be glad there is a lady present, young man – I could have just as easily asked you how often you’ve touched yourself to thoughts of those ethereal legs alone.”

His tone darkens, and a very short glance in his direction shows something…ominous in his penetrating, dead eyes. His movements have grown slow, underlined in their oddness, as if he were moving in honey. The way he cocked his head with that smile frozen in place as he spoke could chill a corpse.

“Or…how often you’ve offered her tea with a little bit of that pesky white powder still undissolved…hm? Poor little thing doesn’t even know why she missed our dates – she’d never stand me up like that! I thought it so odd. When I found out. I was a tad. Angry. Hm…My little lady. Helpless in the crude intentions of another. Tell me. Will she or I ask you first, just what exactly did you have planned? The two of us know your sick answer to that...”

The salesman lifts his eyebrows, his hand teasingly back to caressing your thigh – this time, with added fervour. His unblinking eyes, his speeded breaths, his focused demeanour – he’s grown excited. And the fingers of his large hand echo it directly in the way he grabs at the inner side of your thigh, almost prying your legs apart the more you push them together.

“…Does she know about the photographs? Does she know about where your dirty, undeserving, pitiful little hands have been? I bet she’d be very eager to find out…where the audacity you had when she was conscious ends and the depravity of the trash you are once she is not begins.”

As if on cue, the hand stops and merely rests in your lap. You realise that a large part of his words was reverberating through the walls and the rain, loud and sharp with something resembling cold venom, cold anger, cold…abhorrence. You look down at the hand in your lap.

Resting there. Perfectly cut nails. Strong fingers. Still.

You think you’d very much like to hold it, but don’t move.

❥❥❥

All of a sudden, you shiver straight through.

You've grown so cold.

The tension in your thighs gives way to weakness.

The words turn poisonous in your ears and against your wishes, you feel violated.

Less by the hand on your thigh stroking its fingers upwards, now having stopped, satisfied with your surrender.

As silly as it seems, even to you in your current state. Violated.

More so by his words, because...you know. You know it's true and feel disgusting. Your brain somehow compartmentalised too hard and the scene in front of you fades away leaving only your thoughts and fears; circling a maelstrom to drag you down with no sound.

His clingy love, his unwanted touches, his abuse of your kindness – your gestures of care swallowed by shallow need and hormonal outbursts.

On those late evenings.

Wherever you were, he was.

Wherever you tried to make a place for you with boundaries.

There he was.

Playfully violating them.

Ignoring your tenth 'no thank you'.

Stealing touches and hugs and even playing on your compassionate strings, asking for cuddles and head pats and telling you to softly caress his hair as he leaned into your chest and dragged his head down to your breasts pretending to search for a tense heartbeat.

All because he was stressed. He needed it. He needed you and pretended that what he gave back was adequate. Though all you wanted was safety, peace, and to be left alone. That never featured in the equation.

You remember how it was always suddenly four, five in the morning. The bitter taste in your mouth. The way the tea tasted funny. How clouded your head was.

Suddenly, the soaked shirt clinging to every inch of your skin feels so very exposing. The mess of a friend in front of you blurs as you try not cry.

So fucking stupid, Y/N. So fucking stupid.

Naked, violated, stupid.

You register the lower, slow voice, almost mocking in its sympathy and disdain.

"Oh, now, look at what you've done. And I was being so very reserved, ignoring a chance to ask for a truth I thought better of asking sooner. Anyhow. No matter. Tell me, young man…"

The salesman lifts a hand, leaving it to hover over the gun but only caressing the air above it.

"Tell us what you told your colleagues, when discussing that interesting study you grew so invested in. I hear it was quite the riot among men of your position. Tell me what got you so mesmerised, so...worked up as miss Y/N worked hard only a few rooms away. Careful, don't let your trousers grow too tight when you do..."

His hand lightly brushed the gun's trigger.

"...my fingers are itchy."

"That's…that's against the rules," you half-whisper, half-rasp into air that barely carries your words.

The hand on your thigh begins to slide up and down, as if reassuring you. The whole dynamic is so fucked up you feel your limbs losing sense of touch, growing colder. So cold they might as well be stone.

"So is making my little lady so disconcerted. Pardon the rudeness, miss Y/N, if you may. But I am so very interested and want you to hear it with me. Let the trash talk."

You know he's making that puppy-eyed expression in your direction, toying with you. You don't even have to look.

"Making my dear so very…" his hand finds yours and holds your dead fingers between his warmth, rubbing them in what has to be faux, manipulative, performative care. This is all pretend. He's lying. You know he's lying. One worse than the other. Your sister was more correct than she knew.

Funny. It would remind you of a play you liked, a fun performance where a bloke goes by each member of the audience with a list, yelling as he scratches out lines - "Twit, dumbass, twit, dumbass..." he stops mid-performance and gazes with hope to the back of the audience and announces: "Ah! But back there! There's a change! Two dumbasses right next to each other!" You don't laugh, but feel that is very much your situation.

"…cold." He frowns and rests his hand in your lap with yours still inside.

Now you look. His face isn't smiling. His voice isn't warm. His lips aren't cheeky, his eyes are zoned in and glassy. Aimed at the man ahead like a bayonet right under the chin.

What's happening to you? Is it the transfer of affect? Your emotions both high and subdued? The tension, shock, adrenalin find each nook in your body and mind, forcing you to cling desperately to the safest thing around?

Or spewing over everything like a sickening cloud of mustard gas and clouding rational thought? Which is it?!

Your breath had grown slow, shallow, and the walls of the dingy room were fading together in nondescript floating blurs. You heard him. You heard someone you trusted, cared for, when all was said and done, speak of what you were aware of but didn't know the details of.

A study concerning human behaviour and what some men would do, should they face no consequences.

The salesman nudged the gun if the words were growing slow.

You learned that the friend you trusted would endeavour to do things to you that you hoped were only categories in bad adult content. You learned he thought of you that way and dreamed of it, even if he hated himself for it afterwards. He did try it, over and over. He lied to you. Over and over.

Couldn’t help himself.

Limp, lifeless, dead eyed – no consequences.

Fair game.

You felt like being sick and setting the whole building on fire, the two of them included.

❥❥❥

So, you did what any rational person in your situation would do.

You stood up.

“I need some fresh air,” you hear your lips mumble and don’t even register that the hand doesn’t try to stop you. Mechanically you turn around and walk slowly towards the exit. Two voices follow you out:

“Of course, miss Y/N. The game is paused. Do come back as soon as you can. We’re having such fun, aren’t we?”

And:

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way…I thought you felt…I thought you would…”

You don’t even turn around as you hear the blunt sound of something slapping against something else hard. No more voices follow.

You only walk to the very first door and when you are nearly sure you’re at least partly alone, you sink to your knees in sobbing shivers that make no sound, only force your face to grimace and your hands to hold you around your body in nothing short of desperation and being done.

Why don’t I just play a truth and lie? He’ll shoot me. Everything works out. Boom. Peace. Maybe a dare, so I can ask to shoot the gun into the wall. And shoot myself. Fuck. Such a dumb bitch you are, Y/N. All your fault.

You’re leaning against the doorframe, half outside, and the rain is helping wash your thoughts away. How you wish it would go straight through and dissolve you with it.

“Tender flower, tender flower…” a voice humms behind you as if caught in a fond memory. You don’t look up or behind you. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re beginning to feel like you have nothing much to lose, over something so...silly.

“You know, you remind me of my favourite flower, little lady.” The voice stops beside you and you still don’t lift your head. You just stare into the pavement, far away from yourself.

The salesman bends down to be level with you, hands behind his back. Head cocking to the side in his usual manner, almost in a play of affection. Your heart sublimates from frost straight to anger and then…nothing. You grow numb again. But do look into his eyes as he speaks, noting the small smirk.

“Beautiful white blossoms, sharp, geometrical. Elegant. Everything in place, everything in order. Even closed, the flowers seem to sleep in a manner that exudes quiet beauty. Leaving one waiting for them to open, just to see them in bloom.”

Is he truly that mental?

“But what I appreciate most about this flower is the fact…that its leaves have nothing but sharp prickles around every edge. They themselves carry a smooth surface with unnoticeable little hooks should anyone try to touch their flowers. The stems are thorny, even in their dark, mesmerising stature and grace. And the parts hidden below ground…where the life of the plant resides…are safely covered by a shell enclosed in sharp thorns.”

He is truly that mental.

“And…” he leans closer, making sure to not touch you, but you can see that small smile and those piercing dark eyes almost caressing you through the rain, “the whole plant is deathly poisonous. Not only does it help you die, but you will desire death every second that your hallucinating brain cannot see its own lungs unable to lift…as you suffocate on dry land, slowly, slowly…so very slowly.”

He smiles as if remembering a fond memory.

“The blossoms carry the poison. The leaves carry the poison. The stem carries the poison. The seedpods and their precious seeds are the most poisonous parts of the whole plant. Imagine that. The grace of the plant, the beautiful life-giving hidden piece, the essence itself…so very lethal.”

You look up at him. You know the plant he’s describing. You know it because it happens to be one of your favourites too. Your lips open just a tiny bit and you see something else in those eyes for only a little fleeting while. Something you’re surely placing there yourself. You really must be damaged, out of it, desperate.

But you speak nonetheless:

“…Funny…the whole flower, in its beauty…with each sharp edge and prickle…simply says…don’t touch me. It won’t hurt you until you transgress and grab at what doesn’t belong to you…But the being wordlessly says…Don’t touch my flowers. Don’t touch my leaves. Don’t touch my stem. And don’t fucking touch me.”

You see his smile grow in a small act of genuine amusement. The salesman’s eyes are looking at you, through you, but you sense no lies in that look now.

He genuinely looks…affectionately satisfied. Am I high? He looks…sweet.

“What if I were to be very cautious with each blossom, and ask the plant for permission when she’s feeling shy? Would she bloom in my presence? I know her well, I know where I may and may not lay my fingers – I have studied her quite closely. I know when to let her grow in peace and gather strength in solitude. Tell me, miss Y/N. Would she bloom for me if I tended to her?”

“Depends. What if the plant asks you to throw her into a wall?”

A very surprised chuckle escapes his lips and wanders into the night rain.

“Then I’ll take her upstairs and arrange for that to be possible. Anything for her little lethal, tender heart.”

100 notes · View notes

larluce · 3 days ago

Text

Merlin arrives with a baby in Camelot AU

(co-writing with @roxineedstosleep )

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

Chapter 2: A Baby's Call (Part 2)

In Gaius' chambers.

Merlin: (sits down, holding the baby to feed her)

Gaius: Here (gives him a baby bottle)

Merlin: Thanks. (takes the bottle and starts feeding her. Then looks around, spots some broken things and laughs) I see the baby got you a bit of trouble too.

Gaius: She was upset when you weren't around indeed. But she calmed down eventually. (serves Merlin his food on the table) Do you want some vegetables with that?

Merlin: (snorts) I know you're still angry with me.

Gaius: Your mother asked me to look after you both. What she didn't tell me is that I'd have to look after two babies instead of one.

Merlin: I got it. I was stupid.

Gaius: (softens his expression as he looks Merlin feeding the baby, murmuring to himself) In a way, you are a baby looking after a baby.

Merlin: Uh?

Gaius: (outloud) What did your mother say to you about your gifts?

Merlin: That I'm special.

Gaius: You are both special. The likes of which I have never seen before. But it seems you are not the same kind of especial.

Merlin: (lifts his head, confused) What do you mean?

Gaius: Well, magic requires incantations, spells. It takes years to study. What you both do is elemental, instinctive. However, while your eyes glow gold when you do magic, the baby's stays the same.

Merlin: Which means...?

Gaius: I don't know. You both are a question that has never been posed before.

Merlin: Did you ever study magic?

Gaius: (pauses, hesitant) Uther banned all such work twenty years ago.

Merlin: (thinking) That's not what I asked... (says) Why?

Gaius: People used magic for the wrong end at that time. It threw the natural order into chaos. Uther made it his mission to destroy everything from back then, even the dragons.

Merlin: (surprised) What? All of them?

Gaius: There was one dragon he chose not to kill, kept it as an example. He imprisoned it in a cave deep beneath the castle where no one can free it.

Baby: (falls asleep) 😴

Merlin: (stands up and walks to the improvised crib they made for the baby and puts her there carefuly)

Gaius: Now, eat up. You can stay with the baby this time. I'll take Lady Helen the preparation for her voice.

Merlin: (smiles) Thank you (sits to eat, thinking) If the king managed to kill almost all the dragons. Then we can't stay here for long. I hope Gaius can contact the druids soon.

Time skip. In the Lower Town. Merlin looking for somewhere to buy milk when he encounters Arthur and his gang.

Merlin: (just passes by, ignoring them, thinking) Don't talk to me, don't talk to me, don't talk to me.

Arthur: How's your knee-walking coming along?

Merlin: (thinking) Shit... (keeps walking, ignoring them)

Arthur: (mocking) Oh, don't run away!

Merlin: (stops) From you?

Arthur: (sighs) Thank God. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb.

Merlin: (turning) Look, I've told you you're an ass- (cuts himself, not wanting to be send to the dungeons and be taken apart from his baby again) And I apologise for that.

Arthur: (surprised) Really?

Merlin: No, but I can't exactly speak my mind without being sent to the dungeons again, can I? (smiles forcely and bows in mockery) Your Higness. Please, go bother someone else.

Arthur: (amused And curious) And if I allowed you to speak your mind?

Merlin: Will I be sent to the dungeons after that?

Arthur: No.

Merlin: The stocks?

Arthur: You have my word no harm will come to you.

Merlin: Alright. (takes a deep breath) You are a spoiled, selfish royal prat. An ungrateful little shit, blind to the suffering of those who keep you fed, clothed, and alive. Do you even know what it is to work? To bleed? To starve?

Arthur: (his smirk falls) Hold on-

Merlin: And how do you repay the people who serves you? With cruelty and mockery. You think yourself noble because of the blood in your veins, but there is nothing noble about you. You are a leech, feeding off the labor of others while contributing nothing!

People around: (gasp)

Merlin: (bows) My lord.

Arthur: (angry) How dare you. I have fought for my people since a very young age, went to dignitary visits to maintain peace between kingdoms. So yes I do know what is to bleed and to work. But of course an ignorant peasant like you wouldn't know that.

Merlin: And yet you act like an idiot, using people as targets just for fun!

Arthur: Don't pretend you know me.

Merlin: I don't NEED to know you and I don't WANT to know you. Just. Leave me. Alone.

Knights: (wait for Arthur to tell them what do)

Arthur: (furious, his jaw tensed, but shows a serious blank face) I'm a man of my word, so I will let you leave. But if I see you again I'll have you flogged.

Merlin: (with a very fake smile) Thank you so much your highness, you are so kind. (bows in mockery again and leaves)

Time skip. In Gaius' chambers.

Gaius: (enters) How could you be so foolish?!

Merlin: (changing the baby's diapers) I don't know what you're talking about.

Gaius: Don't take me for a fool! Everyone is talking about how you humilliated the prince!

Merlin: (grins) Really?

Gaius: It's not funny. You could have gotten yourself in the dungeons again!

Merlin: He was the one who gave me permission to speak my mind! So I spoke my mind. I wouldn't have done it if he hadn't and he needed someone to tell him his truths. It's not my fault he can't handle them. (finishes to change the diapers) There you are! 🤗 (lifts her)

Baby: (babbles adorably)

Gaius: (sighs) I guess I should be glad you weren't idiotic enough to get into another fight with him or use magic to toss him around.

Merlin: Oh, I was tempted. A lot. (looks at the baby fondly) But, as you said, I can't afford acting like an idiot. I have a lot more to lose if I'm discovered. (his face turns sad) You don't know why we are like this, do you?

Gaius: (shakes his head sadly) No. I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't possess that knowledge.

Merlin: (pauses) You know, I used to think I was a monster. For being the way I am. For so long I asked myself, why am I like this? Why would the Gods give me so much magic if I can't use it? What is my purpose in this world that rejects everything I am? Everytime my questions came without answers, I felt like dying.

Gaius: And now?

Merlin: (smiles fondly at the baby again) I'm holding the answers in my arms.

Time skip. In the Dragon's Cave. A deprived sleep Merlin enters.

Kilgharrah: Merlin! Until you finally answered my calls.

Merlin: (looks around for the owner of the voice, exhausted) Where are you?

Kilgharrah: (flies to land in front of Merlin) I'm here! How small you are for such a great-

Merlin: Oh, so you are the one who has been talking in my head in the middle of the night.

Kilgharrah: Indeed. As I was saying-

Merlin: I don't care what you have to say! 😡 You know how many hours I've been able to sleep these past few days?

Kilgharrah: (taken aback) Ehm...

Merlin: 3 HOURS! I can only sleep 3 hours a day, because if the baby is not crying, she is making some stuff fly or break! And if she is not making some stuff fly or break, she needs changing or cleaning! But it's okay because I have my 3 hours of sleep, my precious and sacred 3 hours of sleep. And when I finally, FINALLY find some time for my myself to have my fucking 3 hours of sleep, YOU! (points at Kilgharrah with a savage expression) INTERRUPT MY FUCKING SLEEP! 😤

Kilgharrah: ...

Merlin: So don't ever interrupt my beautiful 3 hours of sleep again or I'll make sure you are with the rest of the dragons very soon. (turns and leaves)

Kilgharrah: (watches as Merlin leaves in shock and then thinks) So there is a magic baby too? Interesting. Though I couldn't sense her (closes his eyes feeling the magic around him) And I still can't sense her. Interesting indeed.

Time skip. Next day. In Merlin's room.

Gaius: (enters Merlin's messy chamber and gathers his clothes) Oi!

Merlin: (wakes up) AH! The baby! (quickly turns to see the crib and relaxes once he sees the baby is fine)

Gaius: Have you seen the state of this room?

Merlin: (rubs his face, tired) It just happens.

Gaius: By magic? Or are you going to tell me it's the baby's fault?

Merlin: Well... (points the baby's crib where everything seems to float or move near it)

Gaius: ... It's the baby's fault.

Merlin: Yes. (yawns) And I haven't had time.

Gaius: Yeah. Well, I'll give you some time to clear it up (warns) without magic. And then I want you to get me some herbs: henbane, wormwood, and sorrel. And deliver this to Morgana. (gives him a small bag with a vial) The poor girl's suffering from nightmares, she can't hardly sleep... (gets a better look at Merlin) Although I think at this rate I'll have to make something for you too. You look terrible. (tosses some more clothes at Merlin and leaves)

Merlin: Mmm, can't hardly sleep? I know the feeling.

Time skip. In Morgana’s chambers.

Merlin: (enters the open door, eyes not really focus on anything, very sleep deprived)

Morgana: (as she walks behind her changing screen, looking just as exhausted as Merlin, but entertained by the conversation) You know, I've been thinking about Arthur. (yawns) I wouldn't touch him with a lance pole. Pass me that dress, will you Gwen?

Merlin: (pauses uncertainly before fetching the dress)

Morgana: (begins undressing) I mean, the man's a total jouster. And just because I'm the King's ward, that doesn't mean I have to accompany him to the feast, does it? (yawns trying to hide it)

Merlin: (yawns too, as quietly as he can, and places the gown on the screen with slow movements, not really paying attention cause he's so SO tired)

Morgana: Well, does it?

Merlin: (manages a high pitched yawn)

Morgana: I mean, If he wants me to go... Oh, Gwen, don't tell me I'm spreading you my yawns?

Merlin: (tries to figure a way out of this situation, but he yawns louder instead)

Morgana: I thought so. Well, as I was saying- (looks over the screen, spots Merlin and covers herself quickly, screaming) AAAAH!

Merlin: (blushes furiously, very embarrased, not knowing what to do or say) Uhm... 😳

Morgana: ... You are not Gwen.

Merlin: No. 😅

Gwen: (enters) I'm here.

Merlin: (turns to her)

Gwen: Are you here to drop off Lady Morgana's medicine?

Merlin: Yes! That's exactly why I'm here. I didn't mean to- (yawns) spy or-

Gwen: (smiles) It's fine. Leave it there. (points to a small table in the entryway) Thank you, although I think you should get some rest.

Merlin: (leaves the vial where Gwen indicated and turns to Morgana, head hung in shame) I'm so sorry. (leaves quickly)

Gwen: (helps Morgana behind the screen)

Morgana: (comes out from behind the screen in a new dress) Who was that?

Gwen: A new servant it seems, my lady. And a really tired one.

Time skip. In the Banquet Hall at night. Court members gather.

Gaius: (stands on one of the walls closest to the servants' door, looking around and grabbing some snacks to put in his pockets for Merlin)

Arthur: (joking around and laughing with his companions)

Morgana: (enters with her breathtaking dress, making every men stare at her)

Arthur: (Cursing internally) Gods have mercy. (goes to her)

Morgana: (smiles at him, inocently) Hi, Arthur.

Arthur: (protective brother mode) What is it that you are wearing?

Morgana: It's called a dress. You should try it some time.

Arthur: You know what I mean. Change it.

Morgana: Why?

Arthur: It's... too revealing!

Morgana: (laughs) Who are you to tell me what to wear?

Arthur: I'm the prince!

Morgana: A prince that got humiliated by a peasant boy yesterday.

Arthur: (Taken aback) Who...who told you that?

Morgana: Everyone is talking about it. And if you keep bothering me, I'll make sure no one forgets it. (passes him)

Arthur: (fumes, but lets her be)

Merlin: (appears through the servants' door, completely in a hurry and looking for Gaius in the crowd)

Gaius: (spots him) Merlin! (approaches) I thought you were with the baby? What happened?

Merlin: (very worried parent mode) She just fell asleep, but she hasn't stopped crying! It's not her diaper or her food or a bump, I checked. Maybe is a cold. Or worst! She could be dying-

Gaius: Calm down! It's probably just colic, it happens frequently to babies that age. I have several vials labeled for that in my cabinet. (checks that the prince hasn't seen Merlin, not wanting Merlin to get into trouble again) Now, leave before-

Celebratory horns signal King Uther's entrance and everyone present falls silent and still as they notice the king passing them. The servants' entrance is blocked by all the maidservants and manservants trying to leave so as not to interrupt the king.

Merlin: (stands still next to Gaius. Unable to leave)

Uther: We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity. It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures, but few can compare with the honour of introducing Lady Helen of Mora.

Applause. The music begins and Uther and the court take their seats. Merlin takes the opportunity to move through the servants who move to serve again, trying to remain unnoticed. However as he passes and Helen starts singing, Merlin notices the members of the court begin to fall asleep. Merlin covers his ears with his hands as cobwebs begin to form over the enchanted sleepers.

Merlin: (thinking, confused and scared) What... what is happening?

Lady Helen: (stares at Arthur as she walks forward and then pulls a dagger from her sleeve)

Merlin: (thinking) Wait... She wants to kill the idiot! 😱 I get the feeling, but it's wrong! Oh, what do I do, what do I do... (spots the chandelier) That's it! (magically drops the chandelier on her as she raises her arm to throw the dagger)

Court members: (wake and pull the cobwebs off, muttering, confused)

Uther and Arthur: (just as confused, stand up to see Lady Helen, now Mary Collins, lying on the floor)

Merlin: (thinking) Oh, shit. Did I kill her?

Mary Collins: (suddenly raises herself up enough to throw the dagger at Arthur)

Merlin: (slows down time instinctively to reach Arthur and pull him out of harm's way)

The dagger slices into Arthur's chair as Arthur and Merlin fall to the floor.

Mary Collins: (gives her last breath and dies)

Arthur and Merlin: (stand up)

Arthur: (thinking) What the hell is he doing here?

Uther: You saved my boy's life. A debt must be repaid.

Merlin: Oh, well. I don't really need-

Uther: Don't be so modest. You shall be rewarded.

Merlin: No, honestly, you don't have to, Your Majesty. (tries to leave)

Uther: (stops him by the arm) No, absolutely. This merits something quite special.

Merlin: Well, if you insist. (thinking) I guess some money wouldn't hurt to buy some things for the baby. Just, please hurry, she'll wake up at any moment!

Uther: You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant.

The Court: (applauds)

Arthur: (complains in a whisper) Father!

Uther: (ignores him)

Gaius: (tries to approach, but the number of people standing up and approaching the King and the young men is such that it is impossible for him to even object from his position)

Gwen: (claps with a pitying smile on her face, knowing what awaits Merlin at his new job)

Arthur and Merlin: (look away from each other, completely irritated)

Time skip. In Merlin's room. The baby seems not to have woken up, but everything that is close to her levitates. Merlin, completely exhausted, tries to put everything back in its place, but again some things float or start to roll.

Gaius: (knocks on the door and enters) You seem to be a hero.

Merlin: With a shitty reward. (gives up on putting the things back to place and sighs) Can I resign?

Gaius: No. Once Uther has something in mind it's impossible for anyone to oppose him. His word is law, remember?

Merlin: But... We had not planned for me to stay.

Gaius: And now, it seems you'll be here for an unlimited time. And even if I find a camp right now, it's unlikely I'll be able to get you and the baby accepted. I wouldn't worry too much though. It's a relatively easy job to do. And a short term one too.

Merlin: What do you mean?

Gaius: Servants who are dedicated to the prince's care don't usually last very long. He'll probably sack you soon. All you have to do is avoid getting into trouble with the prince and serve him-

Merlin: (worried) Oh no! I can't do that!

Gaius: Be with the prince? It's just following him around all day… (realises) oh, the baby.

Merlin: (sighs) I can't leave her alone, but I can't have her with me all the time either. Or can I?

Gaius: It's been a long time since anyone had a baby in the castle. And almost all the children are already teenagers of the servants or maids. Don't worry, I'll help you with her. (hands Merlin a book wrapped in a cloth) This book was given to me when I was your age, but I have a feeling it will be of more use to you than it was to me.

Merlin: (opens it and looks inside) This is a book of magic! I thought the king had destroyed everything related to magic.

Gaius: He kept a dragon alive, a magic book that pretends to be an herbalist's book won't kill anyone. Not if you are careful that is. Keep it hidden and then take it with you when you go with the baby to the druid camp.

Merlin: (smiles) Thank you, Gaius. I will study every word.

Guard: (knocks from outside, pretending not to notice the baby bottles in the room) Merlin, Prince Arthur needs you immediately.

Gaius: Well, you'd better find out what he wants.

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

...

So Arthur and Merlin had an even rockier start this time. How do you think this will affect their relationship?

Tagging @chaosofbelievers , @blackgigglypuff , @stressed-but-chill , @nocheaseforyougoodsir , @thedragonlies , @evedaser , @lolazoel , @sammythetoaster , @caraspud , @g00pygunkyguy , @bertoliosis35-blog , @purpuraffe , @lordemryspendragon , @herstarlight , @justaz , @myalchemicalgnomace , @haunted-glassesgurl , @exmintha , @dumbdemjin , @a-line-drawn , @itsjustmeandmyanxiety , @beebsnas , @rem-the-moth , @tmarauder101

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merthur #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merthur prompt #merthur fic #Merlin arrives with a baby in Camelot AU

92 notes · View notes

enhani-ki · 1 day ago

Note

idk if you're open to it but i feel like you'd give a good representation of writing ni-ki anyway! can you make a story of him falling in love with a male reader? like its just hits him out of the blue and baam ... he likes *a* guy .. crazy stuff!

love all your works to the fullest!! 💕

double take - male!reader x ni-ki

warnings: a little suggestive, cursing, etc.

the sun was just starting to set. it casted long shadows over your small town as you made your way towards the gathering at ni-ki's house.

his dad had invited your family over, just like old times. the whole neighborhood was going wild because after all, it wasn't every day that nishimura riki, the kid who used to play hide and seek with you, racing you to the vending machine, and played video games with you until your thumbs ached, just came back after years of living in Korea.

you had heard bits and pieces about his life through your parents, but you never really reached out.

what would you even say? "bro, remember when we used to dance together?" you doubted he had time for nostalgia, not when he had debuted as an idol, traveling the world, and living the dream he always wanted.

still, his dad's invitation left you no choice. and part of you was a little bit… curious.

he was taller, way waaay taller. you knew you had grown too, but next to him? you weren't sure if it was enough to count.

his once soft cute features had sharpened. he's got more defined jawline now and his nose got even more pointy, and despite everything, he still looked easygoing, laughing shyly as family friends and neighbors showered him with compliments.

does he even recognize you?

his eyes met yours and you looked away, not really sure why.

"hey, y/n!" he called out with his now deep voice, lifting his hand to dap you up just like old times.

ni-ki clasped your hand and pulled you into a firm hug. and he's so strong now too.

"hey," laughed awkwardly. "i guess you're ni-ki now?"

"you know i'm just riki." he smiled, scratching the back of his neck again.

you felt a little relieved, maybe he hadn't changed too much.

the two of you stepped aside and started catching up. a little strange at first but the conversation picked up quickly as you both tried to bring up old memories and filling all the years you had missed.

and at some point, he sighed resting his head on your shoulder without warning.

"i'm so tired from the flight," he murmured.

your body tensed.

you felt relieved again knowing he's still comfortable with you but you also felt nervous

because he probably didn't notice… but you like guys now.

i mean, you always did.

and to ni-ki's defense, he was just always like this too, he became comfortable with physical touch especially with guys after years of being surrounded by his group members.

the next day, you were walking through the neighborhood talking about some dumb story from middle school when, out of nowhere, his arm draped over your shoulders.

ni-ki was smiling, listening to you while looking ahead. "man, i miss this place," he said, completely oblivious to how stiff you had just gone.

"y-yeah," you replied, forcing yourself to act normal.

and it made sense that he wouldn't think twice about casually leaning on you or wrapping his arms around your shoulders,

or pulling you close during a game.

"let's see how good you are." ni-ki said, dribbling the ball between his legs, smirking smugly before passing you the ball, like he know he's about to win.

he was on you again, guarding so close. his body pressed against yours, chest to back, arms spreading wide as he tried to block your movements that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his breath came fast and uneven... just like yours.

and your heart was already racing from running around, now it feels like it's going to burst out for a completely different reason.

it's okay, focus. just play.

you tried to step back but ni-ki was right there and he was just so fucking big. his hands kept trying to swipe at the ball.

you moved fast because you were too distracted, and-

foul.

you had practically shoved into him, and he stumbled slightly, blinking at you in surprise.

"whew," ni-ki said and laughed, still panting. "you play dirty like that?"

"sh-shut up," you muttered, reaching for the ball again to distract yourself.

and then in a desperate attempt to shake off whatever this was, you threw it at the hoop with way too much force that the ball smacked against backboard so hard it ricocheted off and bounced into the grass.

"…bro."

"i'm sorry! you're just... too close."

he walked towards you and patted your head. "my bad, sorry."

later, you had just stepped out of the shower. the steam were still clinging to your skin as you ran a towel through your damp hair. the only thing covering you was the towel wrapped loosely around your waist, while water droplets sliding down your chest.

you weren't expecting company.

which is why you froze the moment you saw ni-ki in on your bed, strumming nonsense on your guitar.

both of you just stared at each other with wide eyes. the silence was probably thick enough to choke on.

and ni-ki? he should've been used to this, right? because after all he lives with six guys, sharing dorms, and seeing shirtless bodies all the time.

this shouldn't feel different.

his eyes flicked down just a quick second before he turning his head to the side.

you gripped your towel tighter, "what the hell are you doing in my room?"

"i-" he swallowed, still refusing to look at you. "i was waiting for you."

"In my bed?"

ni-ki groaned, rolling onto his stomach, wishing he could just disappear into the mattress. "we were supposed to go spy on the date, remember?"

his sister's going on a date tonight and he convinced you to go with him because he needs "something" he could find so he can use it against her later.

such a little brother.

but yeah, you did agree to that.

you sighed, running a hand through your damp hair. "you could've knocked."

"i thought you were done..."

your fingers curled around the edge of your towel with your heart still beating a little too fast.

and ni-ki, while still half-buried in your bed, exhaled a breath and peeked at you from the corner of his eye then quickly, he shut his eyes and groaned into your pillow.

"put some clothes on."

"yea- yeah," you muttered, already turning away. "good idea."

"…you're killing me here."

it was late, way past midnight, and he was lying on your bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling.

you were on your bed, already half-asleep, but still mumbling about how he could've just gone home instead of insisting on staying over.

he said it was easier this way, he said he didn't feel like walking.

but he just doesn't want to leave.

you rolled onto your side, your arm dangled off the bed, and your hand peeked over the edge, right in front of his eyes.

he swallowed before reaching out. he let his fingertips ghost over the back of your hand, touching and tracing the lines of your skin.

then your hand twitched.

and ni-ki can't help but intertwine his fingers with yours.

you stirred awake, mumbling groggily. "that's not a ghost, right?"

ni-ki let out a breathy chuckle. "it's me, dumbass."

your heart ached at his touch, biting your lip as you curled your fingers tighter around his.

"...come up here."

next day, you stood next to him. ni-ki didn't know but he was staring, reaally staring because he was.

your head barely reached his shoulder as you walk together, he also had to slow his steps just so you wouldn't fall behind. and when you stretched to reach something high, it was instinct for him to reach over and grab it for you.

it made him smile.

he didn't even realize he was smiling until you turned to him, brow raised.

"what?" you asked, giving him a weird look.

"no- nothing."

and you weren't convinced. "no, seriously, why are you looking at me like that?"

he shrugged, tilting his head slightly. "just… you're kinda small, huh?"

you blinked at him. "no, i'm not?"

ni-ki chuckled before leaning close to your face, "yeah, i bet you are."

he said it like he was challenging you or something.

your jaw dropped, stopping in your tracks as he continued walking. "what the hell?"

you glared at his back before quickly catching up, grabbing his arm and pulling it over your shoulders, forcing him closer.

ni-ki stiffened for a second. his heart were stuttering, but he gave in easily too, pressing a quick kiss to your head, before resting his head on top of yours.

"don't react."

a/n: thank you so much for showing love! it keeps me going.

also this is my first time writing ni-ki and male!reader pairing, so glad this was requested! ><

i know i should've leaned more towards him falling for the reader but i also feel like it wouldn't really be a big surprise to him because it's you/him, the reader.

i actually wanted to make them strangers instead of already knowing each other then i also saw a video (the video attached below) where ni-ki was singing the song double take by dhruv during live and omg i just got so inspired by it lol!

hope you like it! <3

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

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marauder-misprint · 1 day ago

Note

Hiii! So I wanted to request a Remus fic where the reader is really cheerfull flirty outgoing physical with everybody and bubbly but her English is not that good. If her native language would be hungarian would be great. So she sorta struggles. And like fluff. I'm so sorry if I come off as rude. 🫶

Hi! Thank you for this request and I'm sorry it took me a while to write it. I really hope you like it and that the Hungarian isn't too horrible. And your request isn't rude at all ❤︎ All of the Hungarian words/phrases are translated at the bottom

Édesem

Remus Lupin x Hungarian!reader

2.5k words

cw: fluff :), Hungarian from Google Translate

So many people loved you at Hogwarts. You sported a bright smile everywhere you went. If someone forgot their quill, you let them borrow one of yours. They forgot their book? You offered to share yours. When your words didn’t fail you, you were the first to compliment people when they gave an insightful answer or looked especially nice or whatever could earn them a compliment. You were also quick to offer hugs and high fives, to give someone a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, to ‘boop’ someone’s nose or ruffle their hair.

Your biggest issue? English wasn’t your first language. It meant you missed things in class and in passing with other students. Maybe that was part of why your smile was so prominent. You didn’t get half of the negative things that gossiped about. You could live in your world at times and spread the positivity that you saw.

But then Professor Flitwick held you back after class. He had your most recent essay in front of him and a frown on his face.

“This essay is simply illegible,” he said.

You mimicked his frown as you looked at your impeccable handwriting.

“Mit?”

“It’s incomprehensible. Makes no sense.”

“Ah. Can I… ah, írj… write again?”

“Yes, I was going to ask you to. With the help of Remus Lupin. He’ll meet you in the library tonight after dinner.”

He handed you the essay. You reread your work. You thought that it made sense, but apparently not. You tucked it into your bag and offered the professor your thanks before leaving his classroom. For the rest of your day whenever you had downtime in classes, you took out the essay and reread what you wrote, trying to see where you had room for improvement. Something must’ve gotten dropped or left out during your translating. It’s your main focus for all of dinner, making it easier to block out the conversations that are happening around you.

You hugged your friends after you were done eating. You’d see them in the common room later and now, you needed to go to the library. You quickly scanned the library when you got there, trying to see if Remus was there already. You found him at a table near the back.

“Remus, hi!” you said as you sat down right night to him, moving your chair as close to him as you could and knocking your knees together.

The look he gave you was unreadable. You were blissfully unaware of how your closeness and brief moment of touching threw him off. He was relatively closed off to anyone who wasn’t a close friend. As bubbly and sociable as you were, you didn’t qualify.

“Rewriting that essay for Flitwick, right?” he asked before subtly moving his chair away from you.

“Yes! Thank you for help.”

You pulled out your first attempt of the essay along with your Charms book, fresh parchment, your quill and ink. Everything you needed.

“And….” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed your Hungarian to English dictionary that you carried with you. “Okay. Where do we start?”

“May I read what you wrote?” Remus asked, slowly reaching for your essay.

You slid it toward him with your hand barely brushing his. While he took the time to read your essay and occasionally scribble notes in the margins, you opened your textbook to the section you were supposed to be using. The air was still for a few minutes. You prepared to rewrite an entire essay and handle the criticism.

Remus cleared his throat when he finished reading. He placed the essay down back in front of you.

“It’s not bad, but I agree with Flitwick. There are sections that, erm, I can’t read. I noted which ones.” He reached to point to what he was referring to. “But the overall content is fine.”

You placed your hand over his. “You think so?”

“Wouldn’t have it if I didn’t mean it.”

You read over his notes and started to rewrite your essay. Remus watched you work for a few minutes before he took out his assignments to work on. He snuck glances at you, telling himself that he was just checking your progress. It definitely wasn’t to watch you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you focused. It wasn’t to see you twist your lips as you reread your essay and his notes. And he most certainly didn’t smile at the way the candle light made your eyes shine.

“I think… I think I fixed it? Can you read?” you asked, setting your quill down.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can read it.”

Remus set aside his own work and took your essay. Without the confusing segments, the essay was much better. Remus nodded, giving it back to you once he finished reading it.

“Flitwick will like that one. Much better.”

The smile that you gave Remus took his breath away. Almost as much as when you then leaned in to hug him. He awkwardly patted your arms as they wrapped around him from the side. You barely knew him and yet here you were, hugging him as if you were lifelong friends.

“Thank you, Remus,” you said before letting go.

You started to pack your things away and Remus returned to his assignments. He tried to steady his breathing and heart rate. He expected that to be the end of the interaction. You stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder, pausing to look at Remus while he worked.

“Could you help more? Essays are hard,” you said, your voice soft.

Remus looked up to see your pleading eyes.

“Yeah. We can meet here on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

Your smile somehow widened.

“Thank you!”

Then you left. He watched you leave, curiosity about you flowing through his veins. He knew everyone loved you and with this short evening together, he absolutely understood why. You emanated joyful energy. You were beautiful. You were… fantastic. And you had just asked him to spend more time with you. Was it for homework? Yes, but Remus wasn’t going to let that deter him from enjoying your presence.

From then on, Remus looked forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays. He had classes with you and could see you during passing or meals, but those evenings in the library? You were all his. You sat mostly in silence, but you were always right next to him. Sitting too close, touching his hand, smiling at him, hugging him. He could sneak glances at you without the risk of anyone noticing how often he did so.

“Can you read, Édesem?” you asked, sliding him a Transfiguration essay you had been working on.

“Of course.”

Since that first session together, Remus didn’t usually make notes on your essays. In sections when your Hungarian messed with your English, he tapped his wand to the essay to make grammar and spelling changes. The only notes he made were when the content of the essay needed edits. He couldn't help pride he felt when he noticed your essays having fewer and fewer errors. He told himself that he was part of why that was happening.

Most of the time, you busied yourself with something else while he read over your work. Not today though. You watched him read, your eyes tracing over the scars on his face, forearms and hands. Because he was reading your essay, you stopped yourself from brushing his hair out of his eyes. It had grown a fair amount since your first session.

You sighed. “Jóképű vagy…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, not looking up from the parchment.

You flushed and looked away. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. And then Remus said your name.

“Mit?” you asked.

“Did you say something?”

“No.” Did you say that too quickly? Did you sound uncertain?

“Oh… I thought… Ah, never mind…” A moment passed. “Here’s your essay back. It’s good.”

“Thank you, Drágám,” you said with a slight smile.

“What’s that mean? Dragon?”

You knew your blush was becoming more prominent.

“It’s…” You couldn’t tell him what it actually meant. Your Hungarian pet names were supposed to your secret way was expressing your feelings. “It means friend.”

“Huh. Cool.”

He seemed to believe you. You had been calling him Drágám and Édesem for a few sessions now. He had never explicitly asked what they meant until now. He assumed that they meant something along the lines of friend, but he wanted to be sure. And now he knew.

You hugged him again before you left. Then you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks, again, Remus. I appreciate the help.”

As soon as your back was to him as you walked away, Remus brought his hand up to his cheek where your lips had just been. He used to think that the hug was overkill for the level of friendship you had and the amount of help he was giving you. A kiss, albeit on the cheek, but still a kiss? It felt like a lot.

Then he noticed the small book you accidentally left behind. The Hungarian to English dictionary. He put it in his bag. He could give it back to you when he saw you in class. Remus was positive it wasn’t something you’d want to lose. He worked for a bit longer before returning to his dorm.

As he lay in bed that night, he flipped through the dictionary. He came across words he heard you say from time to time and words you mixed up for English ones. There were a few that caught his eye as he lazily scanned the pages. Édesem and Drágám were two of the big ones. The little nicknames you had called him and they certainly didn’t mean friend.

He closed the book, setting it on his bedside table with a deep blush covering his entire face. You had been calling him terms of endearment in your native tongue. Did you call everyone that? As he observed you in the past few weeks, he noticed that you hugged a lot of people. You seemed to have a lot of love to give, not that it was a bad thing. But he hadn’t paid attention to how you spoke to others. He knew he needed to. He needed to know if these terms were your normal vocabulary or reserved for your study buddy.

He found you the next day before Charms to give you the dictionary back.

“You left this last night. Thought you’d like it back.”

“Remus! Köszönöm, jóképű! Thank you!”

As if to enforce his observations, you pulled him into a hug and then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I would be dead without this,” you said as you pulled back.

He gave you a polite smile and made his way to his desk. He knew he had interrupted your conversation with your friends and now he was kicking himself for not trying to listen to how you spoke before he interrupted or lingering after you let him go. He also regretted not having the dictionary any more. Jóképű? That was a new name. What if that one really did mean friend?

He figured he’d just have to wait.

And he did. He waited until your next study session together. He planned to wait until you let one of the pet names slip and he’d ask you about it again.

It didn’t take long.

“Hello, Drágám,” you said cheerfully as you walked up to your usual table.

Remus waited until you sat down and subconsciously moved your chair closer to his, like you did every time.

“There it is again, Drágám.”

“Mit?” you asked, tilting your head as you looked at Remus. There was something new in his warm honey eyes that made you melt.

“Drágám. The name I asked you about.”

You cleared your throat. “Right. Friend.”

Then he chuckled.

“It doesn’t mean friend,” he said matter-of-factly. He gestured to your bag where he knew the dictionary was tucked away. “I… I, ah, I looked it up.”

Your face burned bright red within seconds.

“You looked it up?”

“I was flipping through the pages. Curious, you know. And I, erm, I came across it. Precious? Honey? And the other one… Éde-something.”

“Édesem,” you whispered, the sinking feeling of embarrassment covering you from head to toe. You wanted to disappear into your chair.

“Sweetheart,” he said.

He didn’t look angry when he said that. If anything, he looked nervous.

“What was it that you called me when I gave you the dictionary back? I couldn’t look it up… Obviously.”

You bit your lip before saying, “Friend?”

Remus chuckled and then gestured to your bag. “Do you mind if I check?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached into your bag to grab the small book. You handed it to Remus without looking at him.

“It was… ahem, jóképű,” you said in a small voice.

Remus flipped through the pages until he found it. Then his face was covered in a matching shade of red. Handsome. It seemed to glare at him from the page. He swallowed thickly before allowing him to look at you.

You were staring at your hands, which were clasped in front of you on the table. He slowly reached out and placed his on top of yours.

“Do you say that to all of your friends?” he whispered.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice or your own words.

“Édesem, please look at me,” he said.

Your heart leapt at him using the endearment back at you. He was using it to refer to you, right? The sweet look on his face only made you think that he was. He leaned in slightly.

“Do you really think I’m… joke… ah, I can’t pronounce it…”

“I do…”

You slid one of your hands out from under his to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“It’s a… um, előnye… a…” You then held up a finger and reached for the dictionary. After a moment of you scanning a few pages, you continued, “It’s a perk of studying with you.”

“And I thought I was the only one with that perk,” Remus said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?”

“Having a pretty study mate. Bit distracting for getting work done, but nice all the same.”

You gave him a confused look so he continued.

“Édesem, you’re breathtaking. And I really like being near you, working with you, helping you. It’s the highlight of my day.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your blush once again deepening.

This time it was Remus who removed a hand to move some of your hair. He tucked it behind your ear before letting his hand rest on the side of your face.

“Can I… ah… Can…” he stuttered before leaning in more.

You could feel his breath on your face as he kept moving closer. And then you realized what he was doing a moment after his lips brushed yours. You leaned into the kiss as your silent way of accepting it.

Translations from google translate

Mit - what

Írj - write

Édesem - honey/sweetheart

Drágám - my precious

Jóképű vagy - you’re so handsome

Köszönöm, jóképű - thank you, handsome

Előnye - advantage/benefit/perk

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #Hungarian!reader

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organic-bloodbath · 1 day ago

Text

Knife Princess – Part 6

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You and Chishiya get trapped in a closed space together, both of you getting strange flashbacks.

Warnings: Claustrophobia, panic attack.

A/N: I didn't plan to write this so fast but i just blacked out when i started writing it.

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

Niragi's friend, Jae-sung, gave you a place to stay for a while until you'd find your own place. It was rather small apartment, but you and Niragi got the room which belonged to Jae-sung's roommate, who apparently would be visiting his in-laws in Korea for three weeks. Or something like that. You and Niragi would have about two weeks to find another place to stay the night.

The room had one single bed, so you slept on it and Niragi would have a mattress on the floor, being the usual gentleman he always was (not). You didn't personally know Jae-sung, but by the first impression you got from him, he seemed nice enough. Not anything like Niragi atleast, but what did you know.

For the first few days you didn't do much else than rest and go for a walk. You met up with couple of your friends, who luckily had been out of Tokyo that significant day. You didn't keep regular contact with them anymore, all of you having your own lives, but hey had immediately reached out to you when they heard you had been one of the victims.

Your boss had given you two weeks to rest and recover, which was more than you were prepared to have. You worked an office job as a graphic designer so you could have easily started the job sooner since you weren't physically restricted to work which was mostly sitting around. But your boss didn't want to take chances on your wounds suddenly getting worse in the middle of a work day. You knew you'd get bored after a few more days, since your social life was overall extremely dry as well.

You had decided to go to the grocery store nearby, craving for something sweet. Cookies, ice cream, chocolate – probably all of them.

You arrived back inside the building, carrying a bag full of groceries with you. You decided to walk up the stairs, your eyes on the screen of your phone, typing a text to your friend. You would have taken the elevator, but it was all the way up on the 9th floor so you'd rather walk up, getting a little exercise too.

But you didn't manage to reach the stairs at all when you crashed on someone's chest, stumbling back but managed to keep your balance. Although, the crash made you drop the bag on the floor by your feet, spilling some of the items out, making you curse under your breath.

You looked up and saw a familiar face in front of you. Well, not exactly familiar, but a face which you'd seen before not long ago.

"We should stop crashing on each other like this," the guy suggested, slight smirk on his face. The same guy who was at the hospital and fell on you the first time you met him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows, and kneeled down on the floor, bare knee touching the cold ground. You started collecting the packages back into the plastic bag.

"Well, i happen to live here," he answered and lowered himself to your level to help you gather the items. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Might be because i haven't been here more than a few days by far. It's just for couple of weeks," you said, making eye contact with him as you stood back up. A small smile appeared on your lips, though you weren't sure if he noticed it. "Don't worry, then i'll be out of your way."

"Your home got destroyed, huh?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, a genuine apologetic look on his face. You didn't want strangers to be sorry for you, but now you kind of appreciated that, surprisingly.

"Thanks," you said quietly and started to leave, walking past him back towards the stairs, like your original intention had been. "Well, i'll be seeing you then, i suppose."

"See you." He was watching after you for a moment, until he spotted something on the floor by his feet. "Hey, Y/N?" the guy shouted after you, making you turn around.

You furrowed your eyebrows as he approached you again.

"You, um, dropped this," he said and handed you a cookie, but you didn't immediately grab it.

"How do you know my name?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He fell silent for a moment, not knowing the answer himself. It had come out of his mouth so naturally he didn't know what to respond. Like he had always known it without needing to ask about it. It had only appeared in his mind just by looking at you.

"Uh, i probably overheard it when you were talking with your brother," he figured out. "Not that i meant to eavesdrop." Maybe he had overheard it but just forgot when it happened? He had always had a good short-term memory and would certainly remember where he had learned your name. Especially since he hadn't known you long at all.

But he didn't remember the reason. No matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn't grasp why he knew it.

"Hm, i guess," you mumbled, feeling suspicious. He was still handing you the cracker.

Stuff these into your pockets, your voice said when you grabbed the cracker into your hand from his hold.

"What?" he asked.

"What what?" you asked.

"What did you say?"

"Um, i didn't say anything," you denied.

He went silent for a moment, just looking at you in your eyes.

"You're a strange man, you know that?"

"So i've heard," he smiled. "I'm Chishiya, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Chishiya," you smiled.

Your smile made his heart flutter and twist his stomach in knots.

You were gone before he could say anything else. Chishiya didn't know how long he kept standing there after you had left, but it took him a while to get himself together and continue his way back to his apartment.

♤♡♧◇

Two days later, you had gone to a library to read for couple of hours, not wanting to stay in Jae-sung's small apartment the entire day. You had visited this library once in a while when you were younger, but hadn't been here in a long time, not after you moved further away from here. Now, you had taken a comfortable position on a couch which was usually taken but was now available to sit.

After a while, someone approached you. You looked up, your heart starting to beat faster when he looked at you.

"Y/N?" the man asked, furrowing his eyebrows but then his eyes brightening. "Hi, how are you doing?"

Your throat felt dry when your one-night hookup was looking down at you.

"Um, fine," you mumbled.

"May i sit?" he asked, pointing the spot next to you on the couch. You only stared at him for a while, until slightly nodded. "What have you been up to?"

"You lied to me," you said quietly, not able to start doing any small talk with him. You weren't going to cause a scene in a damn library but you weren't going to pretend acting friendly either.

"Lied about what?" he asked, genuinely confused. He had seemed to be in a good mood before he approached you, but now it started to fade when he saw the unwelcoming look on your face.

"That we slept together," you gritted between your teeth.

"Um, i already told you," he said. "Nothing happened. For real."

"Okay, so how am i pregnant then?" you spat, anger starting to boil inside you.

His eyes widened. "You're pregnant?"

You crossed your arms against your chest, leaning back against the couch. "Yes, thanks to you."

"I swear, Y/N, we didn't do anything after you told me to stop," he insisted, starting to panic. "I remember it well enough to know that we did stop. After you passed out i simply went to the shower and then fell asleep next to you, okay?"

You eyed him for a moment. He seemed genuine, truly meaning every word, but you weren't buying it. Just because there was simply no other way how you could have become pregnant. If you weren't bearing a child inside you, you might have actually believed him.

"I swear through my mother's grave, hand on my heart, that i did nothing to you. I'd say it directly in front of God," he promised, starting to be desperate, seeing the look on your face – both hurt and angry. He could tell that you weren't so sure to trust him. "Can't you take, like, a paternity test or something if you don't believe me? It's not mine, i promise."

God, how much you wanted to believe him. He looked so serious and genuine it was hard to blame him on things you didn't even remember.

The moments you remembered with him, he had been gentle with you and asked for final permission on everything. When you had said 'no', he had let you go.

"Please," he pleaded. "I did nothing to you. I don't sleep with unconscious women, no matter how wasted i am."

You shut your eyes and held your forehead. How could you believe him when there had been literally nobody else than him?

"I, i came to talk to you now because you forgot a few things in my apartment that day," he said. "I thought i could meet up with you later so i could return them. You just never left your number so i couldn't reach you."

You did forget some of your things in his place but had just accepted the fact that you'd never see them again.

"You can keep them."

"We don't need to hang out, i can just-"

"Keep them, okay?" you insisted and got up from the couch, leaving him to sit by himself without another word.

♤♡♧◇

On your way home, you tried your best to calm down your racing heart and keep your breath steady, but it was turning out to become challenging. You wouldn't be about to cry in public. All you wanted to do now was scream, but you couldn't do that either at a bus stop.

You had promised Niragi to be back at the apartment in about 15 minutes because he wanted to introduce you to his friends and be social, since all you did right now was mostly staying by yourself.

The elevator in this building was ancient and looked like it could break any time soon. The sound of the floor creaking under your feet with every step didn't make you feel very safe either. Still, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to the 6th floor, not having the energy to walk all the way up there.

The door started to slowly close until someone's foot stopped it and opened the door again, letting the person to the elevator as well. You locked eyes with Chishiya.

"You're literally stalking me," you stated as he came to stand next to you. It wasn't a big elevator at all, it was made to fit to exactly four people. Three if you wanted to move a little and not only stand with your arms touching each other, not able to take a step to any direction without stepping on someone's foot.

"We live in the same building," he pointed out.

"And yet i haven't bumped into any other neighbor except you and someone's grandma. You now twice," you said back.

"I suppose we have similar daily routines," he responded.

"Mhm," you said, lifting your left eyebrow and turning away from him.

He was going to the 7th floor, only one floor above you. You didn't speak anything, just stood next to each other in silence, an inch between your shoulders. You felt awkward, but didn't care to start even more awkward small-talk.

You were on the 4th floor, when suddenly the elevator stopped, so hard as if it had hit a wall, making you almost lose your balance.

"What the hell?" you mumbled. The doors didn't open and you assumed you were between two floors. Anyway not able to get out.

You suffered from claustrophobia and being trapped in a small space with no way to get out was one of your worst fears. You had never been a fan of elevators, but you had gotten used to them, as long as you didn't have to stay in one for a long time.

You started breathing more rapidly, feeling like the air was running out and you were going to suffocate. The elevator started shrinking, the walls coming closer to you. Chishiya looked at you, worried look on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

You didn't answer, you were too caught up in the panic attack that was about to start. Your hands were shaking and you just really, really needed to get out of this elevator, starting to hyperventilate. You felt pain on your chest, pressing your trembling hand against your racing heart.

He put his hands on your shoulders, turning you towards him. You avoided eye contact with him at first, looking at the wall over his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," Chishiya said, realising what was going on. "Look at me. Y/N, look at me."

You turned your face towards him, allowing yourself to make eye contact with him.

"Take a deep breath in a count of three, okay?"

Your eyes started to water as you looked at him, having a really hard time to take deep breaths and calm down. You tried your hardest, his hands gently rubbing your arms. Eventually you were able to calm down.

"That's good," Chishiya smiled. "You did really good."

"Is it weird if i hug you?" you asked quietly, nervous for his rejection or making him uncomfortable. Chishiya contemplated your request a little bit, until gently wrapped your arms around you, massaging your back with his hand.

Another person's presence and touch always, or most times, managed to calm you down properly. You heard his steady heart beat.

Was there someone else? Or was i... was i your only one?

You pulled away from him, furrowing your eyebrows when you looked at him in his eyes. "What do you mean someone else? We're alone here."

"I didn't say anything about someone else," Chishiya mumbled, furrowing his brows too.

"Yes you did, i heard you," you insisted.

You were always really embarrassed when someone saw you have a panic attack and you could feel your cheeks burning up this time as well, now that you had properly recovered from it and realized the entire situation.

"We've been trapped in this elevator for barely ten minutes and you already start to hallucinate," Chishiya stated. He sounded serious, but the small smile on his lips gave it away, wanting to cheer you up and lighten your mood.

"Shut up," you mumbled and hit his shoulder, his words making you a little amused as well.

"I'm going to make a call to get this thing fixed and us out of here. You okay now?" he asked and after you nodded, he took his phone from his pocket and dialed the correct number.

You were afraid of getting another panic attack if you had to be here for a long time, you didn't want to go through that again in such a short time. At least i'm not alone here, you thought. Right now, you were more than glad that he had put his foot between the door and stepped inside with you, even though it had been awkward at first.

"Alright, they said they'll be here as soon as possible, but it might take a while to get this running again," Chishiya explained turning to look back at you.''

"Amazing," you huffed.

"Hey, it could be worse," he pointed out.

"Mhm, and how exactly?" you asked, crossing your arms against your chest.

"Well, you could be stuck with one old man from the 2nd floor, who doesn't shut up about facts about toilets and bicycles," he answered.

"Toilets and bicycles?" you huffed.

"Yup. So, be glad it's me and not an even stranger man than me."

You looked at him for a moment, until you narrowed your eyes, looking again directly at him. "You sabotaged this thing, didn't you?" You widened your eyes and pointed a finger at him. "I knew you had been flirting with me at the hospital!"

"Hey, even if i wanted to get to know you better i wouldn't go to the length of trapping you in a small space with me," he swore, one hand on his heart and the other up in the air.

"Mhm," you hummed, crossing your arms. Then, you pouted a little, pretending to be upset and tilted your head. "So, you don't want to get to know me better? At all?"

You were incredibly close to each other, a few inches between your bodies.

"Well," he said slowly, glancing at the ceiling for a moment to avoid your intense gaze. "I didn't say that."

"But you implied it."

"You're putting words into my mouth," he stated when he had locked eyes with you again.

He wasn't matching your 'i'm just joking' vibe at all right now.

You eyed him up and down, starting to grin. "You're kind of cute, you know that?"

"Cute?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yup," you confirmed and bit your lip. "Nobody told you that before?"

"Hm, not that i recall." You smiled wider when you noticed his cheeks turn slightly pink.

"So, you figured out already where you know me?" you asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "You admit that we've met?"

"No," you said. "Other strangers just haven't thought before we might know each other – without considering it flirting."

"Well, i haven't found an answer to that yet," he admitted.

"Hm. Well, let me know when you do."

Your phone let a sound of a new text message, making you take your phone from your pocket. You were feeling hot and pulled your sleeves up to your elbows as you took the phone in your hand.

Assface: are you still out? we're running out of beer

When you had exposed half of your arms, the tattoo on your arm was revealed – two knives crossed with each other, surrounded by roses and couple of skulls. It picked Chishiya's attention, making him analyse it with his eyes.

I didn't find a pen and paper. And i'm bored.

Chishiya looked at your face when he heard those words, your lips not moving at all. Not letting out a single syllable. He could swear that he hadn't imagined those words, spoken by your voice in his head, by himself.

I have a second knife, you know.

You turned your face towards Chishiya when he had fallen quiet, noticing his concentrated stare on your lips.

"What, you want to make out?" you asked with a playful smile, then biting your lip.

You put your phone away and backed him against the wall, standing barely an inch away from him, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"We can play 7 minutes in heaven if you want, now that we have enough time to spare."

Chishiya's face turned red, eyes widening. He swallowed the lump in his throat, stomach feeling funny. His usual calm demeanor shifted completely to something else he had very rarely experienced before. Probably never before. He shook his head a little to get a grip of himself.

"Oh, no, i didn't-"

"I'm just kidding," you giggled, enjoying what kind of effect you managed to have on him. "But it's okay, Chishiya, i know i'm pretty," you grinned and put your finger on his chin. "You can admit it."

"I'm not denying that you're pretty but i wasn't thinking of kissing you," he stated as seriously as he could but even he could tell his voice was trembling a little. "I was just, looking at your tattoo."

"My tattoo is on my arm, not on my lips," you hummed, then started to smile. "So you think i am pretty, hm?"

"Will you shut up about that if i say yes?" he asked, resting his head against the wall.

"Maybe, no promises though," you shrugged. "Well?"

"Fine, you're pretty," he admitted. "Now, end of discussion."

You just smiled, turning into pouting right after. "So, no kissing, hm?"

He couldn't help but glance at your lips but then he cleared his throat. "No kissing."

"Fine," you huffed, acting all disappointed even though you were just teasing him, and backed away from him. You sat on the floor, back against the wall, Chishiya sitting down next to you.

"Can i ask you a serious question?" he asked, the tone of his voice to a lot more serious one, he was back at his normal self. You listened to him now with closer attention. "Do you feel any different after the accident?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Chishiya started, trying to gather his words together to make sense. "I feel like there's a large piece missing inside me, you know?" You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't know if that sounds dumb, but-"

"It's not dumb," you interrupted. "I do feel like that too."

"You do?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.

"I mean, kind of yeah," you admitted, hugging your knees against your chest. "I feel weird. Like there's something crucial i don't remember. I can't really explain it. But i've just figured it's due some survivor's guilt and trauma or whatever, i don't know. I'm just trying to leave the entire thing behind."

Chishiya knew, was absolutely sure, that it was something else than simply survivor's guilt.

"Perhaps," he mumbled and looked into his hands on his lap.

You didn't know how much time passed the two of you being trapped in the elevator, but you'd guess it was anything between 30 minutes to one hour.

Suddenly, the elevator started to move again, startling you so badly that you collapsed against Chishiya, grabbing his shirt on an instinct.

He looked at you, hanging on him, until you turned your head towards his gaze, eyes widening.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, letting him go. "I just got really startled."

"It's alright."

Chishiya stood up and took your hand in his, pulling you up from the floor just as the elevator's door opened.

"Well, i guess this is my stop," you announced, suddenly feeling a bit awkward again, just like the moment in the beginning when Chishiya had stepped into this elevator. "See you around, Chishiya."

"See you around, Y/N."

♤♡♧◇

You walked inside the apartment, Niragi and two of his friends sitting at the table, playing cards together and drinking beer. Apparently they had found more beer somewhere after all.

"What took you so long?" Niragi asked, clearly not pleased for having to wait for you so long. "Did you bring more beer?"

"Got stuck inside the elevator," you stated. "So, no. I didn't."

"That shit finally broke?" Jae-sung asked and let out a laugh. "Took long enough."

"Join us, we saved a seat for you," Niragi invited, patting the chair next to him.

"Oh, i think i'll just go to read and-"

"Don't be silly, one game," another guy pleaded, you had never seen him before.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Fine, one game."

But one game turned into another and yet another, until it started to get really late. You were having a lot of fun, though, and you managed to win surprisingly often, shocking the guys a little because they had thought of being some sort of masters in card games themselves. Niragi knew you were a challenging opponent though, so he was amused by the reactions of his friends.

You now held the King of Spades card in your hand, looking at the King's cartoon face and felt it staring back at you, a little too intensely. You got a weird twist in your stomach, suddenly feeling sick.

Uncomfortable pressure formed inside your skull, some sort of flashes running inside your mind. The card dropped from your hand as you held your head in your hands, shutting your eyes.

You heard rapid shooting and screaming everywhere around you.

A man in a long black cloak approached you, pointing his gun at you, but someone pulled you out of the way of gunfire.

Swimming in a lake, being held against someone's bare chest but not seeing the person's face. An explosion somewhere in the distance.

Finally, Chishiya's face looking at you with worried eyes, a tear falling down his face and blood on his cheek. Saying something to you but you didn't hear what.

Every flash didn't last longer than one or two seconds, feeling like they were splitting your brain in half.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, Niragi looking at you with a worried expression on his face. You jumped on your seat, him scaring the crap out of you.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Niragi asked.

"My, my head just hurts," you muttered and stood up. "Migraine. I think i'll go to lie down." You were already walking away until turned around one more time and gave the guys a smile. "It was nice to play with all of you though."

You went to the spare room and sat on the bed, hands grabbing the edge of the bed.

What the hell was that?

♤♡♧◇

Chishiya fell asleep fast that night, faster than usual, even though his mind wasn't even closely free from all the storming thoughts about you and everything going on in his life right now.

He saw a dream which felt too real and familiar to be only a dream. He felt like there had been more to the dream, and he remembered only a small part of it.

He saw your face. You were standing in front of him. With a smile on your face, you pulled him into a kiss, hands on his cheeks.

You pulled back after a while, still holding his cheeks as you looked into his eyes, challenging look in them. "I've never done it in a lake, though."

Chishiya woke up, for a moment trying to comprehend where he was after opening his eyes, then fully realizing he had only dreamed the entire thing. You weren't there holding his face. You weren't there kissing his lips. You weren't there at all, your touch had been only his own imagination.

Had the moment between you two in the elevator really affected him that much? Surely not. No, definitely not.

His heart fluttered and for some reason, he had liked it. The idea of you being close to him.

He wanted to slap himself on the cheek which held a ghost of your touch, just to get this feeling spat out of him. Touch which hadn't been there at all in the first place.

He didn't know you. You were strangers to each other who simply went through the same trauma. He had never felt like this about a woman who he only knew by a name. He knew nothing else about you besides getting injured when the meteorite hit Tokyo.

He could tell you were beautiful and would get any man on their knees by your feet, he wasn't going to deny that.

Was this some sort of "love at first sight" moment he was experiencing? Definitely not. He didn't believe in love at first sight, no. It had to be something else.

Chishiya groaned, absolutely frustrated, and wasn't able to sleep anymore.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: Hope i didn't forget to tag anyone <3 The next part won't be posted this fast lmao don't get used to this.

Taglist:

@audiiix

@valexqpt

@spencersoneball

@queenofviolenceandnerds

@moonchild323232

@lizxoxeth

@crazzzyyyy

@kimsrie

#alice in borderland x reader #aib imagine #alice in borderland imagine #aib chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya

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jjkarmy091 · 2 days ago

Text

Second Best- Jungkook (part 10)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Warning: strong language

Wordcount: 8.5k

Author's note: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Give me your thoughts. I love you all !

P.S : I'm sorry for any mistakes. English is not my first language!

Y/n wasn't always insecure about herself. Early in life she was a lively, extroverted and free spirit person, but life is unfair and unpredictable. Having the trauma of seeing her father abandon her and her mother for another woman, saying she was the reason why he stopped loving and caring for her mom, left something inside her that it was never possible to mend no matter how hard she tried, making her more focused on studies and goals than boys and dating while growing up. For her, love was an illusion and she wouldn’t make the same mistake as her mother.

Thinking about it now as she heads inside the apartment she shares with Lisa, she never gave anyone an opportunity, but as soon as she saw Jungkook she was drawn to him immediately without any explanation for it. Independence was her thing and she never thought she’d be capable of feeling the way she feels about him right now. Even if that meant that her friendship with Sewoon had to end.

Looking back she knows Sewoon was never a good friend to her and she deserves better. Despite knowing their personalities were completely different from each other, Y/n accepted her anyway. After all, Sewoon had been her first friend, the first person to defend her when necessary and for that she was truly thankful for her. She also knew a little about her past and even though their priorities were different, they understood each other like that.

Sewoon wanted to live life, have fun, go out, drink. Everything a teenager is supposed to do. She lost her virginity at 16 to a boy three years older than her who she met at a party. At the time Y/n asked her how was she able to do something so intimate with someone she had only known for a short time. Her best friend replied no one cared about that anymore. Truth to be told, after that she changed. A lot. Maybe that was when they started to drift apart a little bit. Y/n didn't like this change, not when she tried to do the same to her. Sewoon would share her experience regarding sex, how she did it, what she did and how good it felt. She was sexually active and made sure everyone knew about it, bothering Y/n. It was a subject that she didn't feel confident or comfortable talking about, however Sewoon pressured her to go the same path as her and that pissed Y/n off, but she would let it slide.

Maybe that was the main problem, letting it slide too muc. She never thought they would get to the point they are at today and that's sad. Now, Y/n was envious of all the experience she had acquired over the years, because with Jungkook it worked. He was so enthralled by Sewoon's beauty and comfort around guys, not to mention the way she won over boys, the subtle way of touching and talking to them when she tried to conquer them. Honestly, she admired the way she could make people who weren't interested in her focueds on her so quickly. Y/n knew she would never reach her feet in that way.

Everything that happened today with Jungkook was just one more thing to confuse her. What if she was imagining things? As far as she knows he could flirt like this with everyone else. What if he thought she was easy just because she had feelings for him and he was in need of more than she could give him? She has known him long enough to know he wasn’t part like this but still... One never really knows someone, right? Sewoon is living proof of this.

Walking in her room, Y/n went to change clothes and do her skin care, she had cried so much during the day that her eyes were swollen. She washed her face with cold water and dried it and putting a facial mask on. It was a very cold night but the moonlight helped to alleviate the darkness outside and she took advantage of being alone to go to the living room with her favourite book in hand, sitting in a chair next to the fireplace. The Y/n from a few days ago would be unable to tell Jungkook how she felt, yet both yesterday and today she had already confessed twice and had even confronted Sewoon. She never thought she would be able to raise her voice the way she did.

She somehow feels that Jungkook came into her life to break down all these walls around her heart with his sweet gaze and magnetic smile. She fell in love with him, but didn't have the courage to admit it (to him or herself), which ended up in her best friend dating him and yet she continued to desire him. Damn, she was so happy to know they had broken up, so she could rekindle her friendship with him and although knowing this was not something a good friend would do, at that moment Y/n doesn’t regret staying close to Jungkook, otherwise the moment they shared today wouldn't have happened at all. For that she also has Lisa to thank. God, she was very upset with her, but she ended up opening a path she never thought she would have with him.

Suddenly, she heard the main door open, announcing Lisa's arrival. Lisa hadn't even noticed her since when she arrived it was all dark. When Lisa heard a voice calling her in the distance she screamed and now it was Y/n's turn to laugh. Lisa put her hands to her chest and threw her keys at her in protest.

“You really scared the shit out of me Y/n. What the fuck are you doing with every light turned off? Are you a vampire and I didn’t notice it?” Lisa throws herself on the couch “Huuuuufff finally home! I've never had a day as long as this one. Meetings after meetings, just boring shit. How was your day? Was it a nightmare or a cool one?” Y/n gave a half smile

"Initially it was shitty, but it ended pretty well" Lisa raised her head and made a suspicious face.

“That means something did happen. Oh my god, is it Jungkook related?”

“Yes and no” Lisa was confused. “Last night before going to sleep I sent a text to Sewoon, trying to talk to her about the things I found out on that trip regarding Tae, but she didn't give me an answer so I didn't think much about it anymore. Today, it was almost time for my break when I saw her come in. I told Sana that I was going outside and would be right back, but the conversation didn't go as I expected. She was horrible Lisa, she said tons of shit that affected me a lot. I never met this person before. I saw a person I didn't know existed.”

“What did she tell you?” Lisa whispered and Y/n lowered her head, sighing.

“She basically said that she was happy I had disappeared without telling anyone, that the only bad thing was that Jungkook was constantly wanting to know my whereabouts and not even with the pictures she showed him did he calm down. Ohh and that she prayed for news to arrive that something bad had happened to me. She also mentioned that I had stolen Tae from her and that she’d do everything to be with Jungkook, especially since they had already been together a few times, so she had no doubt that he would choose her over me. A bunch of shit.”

“SHE SAID WHAT? God that girl needs a punch to bring her back to reality I swear the next time I see her I’m gonna end her. Who does she think she is f--” Y/n interrupted her

“It’s okay Lisa. Actually, I need to thank her. After that, I was so upset that Sana told me to leave, I needed to clear my head and you were working so I decided to take a walk. Somehow, I ended up in front of Jungkook's workplace, he ended up seeing me and went after me and insisted on bringing me home, however, I told him I had to make a stop by La Dolce Perla and we ended up having dinner there. Although things were VERY tense at the beginning, by the end of the night I ended up letting some things out and he didn't judge me or anything, quite the opposite, he kept me calm and respected me. There was something in the air you know? Something that was pulling us closer to each other. We almost kissed” Lisa squealed in excitement but then stopped and made a funny face.

“So why didn't you?”

“I - I don’t know... I guess he noticed how nervous I was. We were saying goodbye and then he told me he’d wait for me. I don’t know what kind of waiting was he referring to but somehow that gave me comfort, but I’m not sure it’s a good thing, I mean it gives me hope for a future for us but with Sewoon in the picture I--”

“Why don’t you talk to him about Sewoon? A real and open conversation where both of you get all the answers to your questions. You guys have a lot of connection, don’t miss that over misunderstandings.” Lisa said while hugging Y/n, excusing herself to get ready for bed. She had a very busy day in her company and she was wrecked. Y/n was tired too, so she went to her bedroom, did her routine and fell asleep, or at least she tried to.

On the next day Sana wouldn’t be there so she’d be with the new guy. She never got to make a full shift with him and she was curious to see how it’d go. By the time her alarm went off Y/n was wide awake and ready to star her day. She had the weirdest yet the best dream ever. It was about Jungkook and she was enjoying it so much that when she woke up she cursed her neighbor for making so much noise at 08:15 a.m.

She was going to make a double shift. She hated when her boss asked her favors like these but she really needed the money, that’s what kept her going. Getting there she saw Namjoon cleaning tables. Sana wouldn’t stop gushing over him, how cute he looked or how mature he was for someone his age. Even though Sana didn't have the courage to admit her feelings for him (yet, according to her) there was a palpable chemistry between them. The few moments that Y/n witnessed, made her think about her example, how much she thought she and Jungkook understood each other until Sewoon appeared. The day was passing by very peacefully. Right now there were only two customers so she and Namjoon took the opportunity to get some things done earlier. While at it, they got to know each other better and when they finished what they were doing, they ended up engaging in a deep conversation.

Okay, she had to agree with Sana, he had a great view on life and knew a lot for a 20-year-old. They were so absorbed in their conversation they didn't even notice the arrival of a new customer. Hearing the chirping of a throat in order to draw the attention of the two of them, Y/n was surprised to see Jungkook there with a look she couldn’t describe. Namjoon must have felt the weight of Jungkook’s eyes on him because he used some lame excuse to get out of there as soon as possible, leaving her alone with him.

“Jungkook, hi! I – I wasn't expecting to see you here at this time of the day. Usually you come a little later... Is everything okay?” Jungkook took a whole minute to respond, glancing between her and the door Namjoon had «escaped»

“Yes, everything’s fine. I hmmm- I was around and I-- I know it's almost your lunch time so I passed by to see if you wanted to have lunch with me.” He looks at Namjoon when he sees him walking out with some boxes. “But if you’re busy yo-”

“Imnotbusyatall” she answered so quickly Jungkook didn’t understand a thing so she had to repeat herself, calmer this time. “Sorry. I meant to say I’m not busy. I have two hours for lunch since I'm working double shifts today. I just wasn’t expecting to see you so... early. I mean, for someone who usually shows up around 9pm, it's quite surprising” She smiled, turning her attention to the door, only to see Namjoon walk in again looking at her and Jungkook. He gave her a thumbs up, she flipped him off surreptitiously. Jungkook, on the other hand, was paying attention to all these actions. He's never seen this guy before, maybe he didn’t pay much attention to him. They seemed to have hit off pretty nice and for some reason he didn't like that at all.

“I finished the morning session earlier than expected so I Ieft early as well. It's 10 minutes to 1 pm, can I stay here waiting for you or do you think you’ll have problems with that guy?”

“With Namjoon? Naah, he’s cool. I'll just tell him to come replace me so I can change clothes and we can go. I’ll be right back.” As said, Y/n went to warn Namjoon and went towards the locker room. She left after 5 minutes, seeing Jungkook waiting for her near the exit. Weird, he usually used to wait for her at the counter where she and Sana usually stay, where Namjoon currently is as well.

“Why are you waiting here? It’s not your normal spot you know? Joon won’t bite you for standing there” Y/n said laughing while approaching Jungkook. Seeing her, he adjusted his coat and smiled, opened the door motioning for her to go through it first, leaving behind her.

“I didn't like him, that's all, so I preferred to wait here. Besides, I didn't want to cause trouble. "

"Why would you cause trouble? It's not like this is the first time you've come in here or waited for me to leave. And what do you mean you didn't like him? Do you know each other by any chance? Where's the Jungkook who says we shouldn't judge a book by it's cover?” Y/n was teasing him and he knew it, answering with a little shut up. About five minutes away down the road there was a small burger place. It wasn't the first time they went there to eat, she loved the burgers there and the space was heaven. When they sat down, the waiter took their order and went to get their drinks, returning two minutes later. They both said thank you, giving some sips on their coca cola’s. Jungkook broke off the silence first.

“So..you and the new guy seemed pretty close. Cool guy hm?”

“His name is Namjoon and yes we got along quite well. You wanna know a fun fact? it was our first day working together officially. He started when I was on vacation and he’s been doing more day shifts with Sana. But yeah, he’s pretty nice. I was surprised, he’s younger than us but he’s pretty mature for his age and he made me laugh a lot today. It made my double shift a lot easier.”

“Ohhh”. Jungkook gave a few sips on his drink. “Glad it only took him a few minutes for you to be able to feel comfortable with him. It took me ages for you to look at my face. No one would tell it was your first time working together. You must have really liked him” Was he jealous?

“There’s nothing going on between us if that’s what you’re trying to know.” Jungkook chocked on his drink and tried to look everywhere but her. “We made a great team today but that’s it. He’s not my type. Besides, Sana has a crush on him. I’d never do that to a friend of mine”. Jungkook understood the hint. When he was about so speak, the waiter came with their orders. He waited for him to leave again so he could say what he wanted.

“I’m sorry” Y/n frowned.

“Sorry? What for?”

"It was bad of me to come between you and Sewoon. It's a long story and I have to tell you all about it, but at the same time I want to respect your space and time. I should have talked to you as soon as I realized something was going on, but I was confused and--” Y/n interrupted him.

“Were you happy? While you were with Sewoon I mean. Did she make you feel happy?” For the first time Jungkook didn't know what to answer because he genuinely didn't know. Looking back, he knows he was never in love with her, it was just a momentary thing. He realized this too late and now he’s paying for it. Y/n noticed his discomfort so she changed the subject. “This place is without a doubt the one with the best burgers. This is my second favorite place, I really enjoy coming here and this is sooooo good or maybe it's just me being so hungry.” She said, laughing at her own words. Jungkook laughed too. One of the things he never felt with Sewoon: lightness and tranquility. With her, everything was always a competition and based on image. Very controlled, very fake, very rehearsed.

During their meal, they talked about basic things related to life, work and dreams, ordered dessert and drank coffee. Jungkook paid their meals and even though Y/n refused he didn't listen, telling her to pay next time. When they got outside, Jungkook took out a cigarette and stayed like that, grabbing it. Y/n looked at him with a questioning face.

"How come I didn’t know you smoked? I mean every time we went out I never noticed. I was so surprised to see you smoking the other day”

"And you said you hadn't noticed me." He said laughing. "I don't smoke much, usually after coffee or when I'm nervous/anxious. I've always tried not to smoke around you because I know you don't like the smell, so I avoid it."

"Is that why you haven't lit your cigarette yet?" Jungkook looked at the hand that had the cigarette between his fingers. "Maybe" he said wrinkling his nose, looking at her with those sweet bambi eyes. God help her because she can't stay away from this man much longer. During their way back to her work she expected him to light the cigarette, but at no point did he do so. She even told him that if he needed to smoke to do it, that she didn't have to be an obstacle simply because she didn't like it, to which he replied that there were priorities and at that moment smoking wasn't one of them. She didn't say anything back but Jungkook noticed the blush on her cheeks and the shy smile on her face.

“I wasn’t happy” Y/n looked at him wondering what he meant by that. He keeps talking. “You asked me if I was happy with Sewoon and my answer is no. Everything was a facade between us and now I can see how dumb I was to call it love. There were no feelings between us, only physical attraction and illusions. I know I messed up bad by getting together with her Y/n and I wish I could take it back. Even though I didn’t know your feelings for me but it was wrong and you have no idea how bad I feel for hurting you, even without meaning to. I’m truly deeply sorry.” Y/n felt so bad for him. It was a mix of emotions and she just wanted to comfort him so she stopped walking, grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her, hugging him tight, whispering

"You're not to blame for anything. If anything I'm to blame because I was the one who didn't speak up." He moved away a little, although they were very close. "We don't control our feelings. It's not your fault that I fell in love with you just as it's not your fault that you felt something for Sewoon, just as I don't blame her for having something with you even though she knew about my feel--” She stopped talking when she saw his shocked face. His face changed drastically when she said Sewoon knew about her feelings, he was angry and you could see it. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sewoon knew? She knew and you still insisted on pushing her to me?!” He was mad.

“What was I supposed to do? You’re my best friend and I was afraid of ruining it with you, then you wanted to meet her and I just couldn’t say no. I knew you two were perfect for each other. I- I didn’t want to be selfish- I -”

“FOR ONCE Y/n. Just for once you should’ve been selfish! Do you have any idea of how hard this has been for me? just to know that you were the one who gave me to her just like that? Was I not enough for you, was that it?”

“Jungkook, no... Wh- What are you saying? I was the one that wasn’t enough for YOU. That’s why I introduced you to her.” At this point Jungkook had already moved away quite a bit, running his hands through his hair.

“You were more than enough Y/n. You just didn't bother to face what was in front of you. Why do you want everything to be given to you? Is it really that hard for you to take control of your life for once? You would’ve avoided so many things Y/n. But you know what? I'm glad it was this way, maybe you and I weren't meant to be after all and we’re just realizing this now.” He sighed. “C’mon, I need to go and you have to go work as well.

The last minutes felt like hours. Y/n hadn't realized how things had gotten to that point, it wasn't possible to understand. She thought it was unfair that he was blaming her for not opening up, even though he was upset, but even so. When they arrived Y/n grabbed his arm once more.

“Jungkook, you can’t leave like this. You can’t drive being all raged up right now. Talk to me, please. I know I should’ve been more honest about things but I was scared and- and it’s not like you gave me any signs of any feelings either. I wanted you to be happy desp-” he released himself from her grip.

“I did gave you signs Y/n! I fucking did!That's why I'm so messed up. I - The only reason why I approached Sewoon in the first place was to have a reaction from you and to know things I knew I couldn't ask you directly.” It was Y/n’s turn to be shocked. What? “I know you avoid relationships and everything related to boys because you’re scared. If I told you how I felt or what I wanted I was scared you'd run away from me like you always do so I kept giving you signs Y/n but I had no reaction from you at all. I knew who Sewoon was from some pictures on your Instagram so when I challenged you to introduce me to her I was testing waters, however, your indifference remained there. It's not just my fault. I took you on dates and you would dismiss it, saying it was just two best friends hanging out. I left work every day and waited for you every day. In my free time I would come here to keep you company and be close to you while I sketch things that I could easily do at home. I have a cafe in front of my store and yet I’m- Always- Here- You can't be that oblivious Y/n. You were the one to put a label on us every goddamn time! You say you’re in love with me? No Y/n you’re not, otherwise you wouldn’t have given up so damn fast and give me to your best friend like a damn trophy the moment she asked. Hurts to know that I didn't deserve a second thought.” Y/n could only look at him. He looked so damn honest and he was so disappointed in her. There was hurt all over his face and that was killing her. She wanted to say something but she couldn’t so she did what she always does: let him go.

She shouldn't have let him go. The rest of the day was fulfilled with anxiety and guilt. Every day she discovered new things and every time she thought her and Jungkook were stepping forward, they took five steps back. She was ruining everything good she had ever dreamed of with her cowardice and lack of communication. She should've gone after him, yet pride got the best of her.

Like always.

After the argument he got in the car and left. At first she tried not to think about it too much, but then she felt the guilt consume her. When she was alone with just a few clients, she sent several texts to Jungkook, apologizing for the way things happened, for them to talk and clear things up once and for all.

No response.

Lisa was going to spend the night out, so once again she found herself alone in that giant apartment. Without thinking she called Jungkook, going straight to voicemail all the six times she tried. The only positive thing was that the next day it'd be her day off and she’d try to talk to Jungkook and clear things up.

Hopefully

The next day Y/n woke up with a huge weight beside her bed. When she opened her eyes she saw Lisa looking at her with a smile from ear to ear.

"Good morning, sunshine. I'm going to do something crazy and I want you to come with me. Hurry up, get even more pretty and let's go. If I’m late and loose my turn I'm going to kill you.”

That's what consisted being friends with Lisa: waiting for her to wake her up at 9:30 in the morning for something that had popped into her mind out of pure spontaneity was just an example of it. She was adventurous and left nothing undone or unsaid because, according to her, you only live once and she would rather regret what she didn't do than everything she tried and failed at.

That's how at 10 in the morning Y/n found herself in front of the tattoo shop where Jungkook works. The only thing she wanted to do was turn around and leave. Gosh, he's been ignoring her attempts to contact him, how could she just walk in there like nothing was happening? She remembers talking to Lisa about getting tattoos. She never had courage for it, besides, Sewoon would tell her all the time they wouldn't suit her, thus she gave up of the idea. Lisa encouraged her, saying that when she did hers Y/n would do it too, but now, her stomach was churning and it seemed like the only thing that was going to come out was vomit. When they arrived at the entrance Y/n stopped.

“I can’t go in with you. I’m sorry”

“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t leave me alone at it. Also, I booked you a session so you have to show up.” Lisa said innocently.

“You knew Jungkook works here, didn't you? You little bi--”

“Hey hey hey. There’s no time for that my friend. We're about to get hotter and have something marked on us. Let’s go.” She was fucked. Lisa linked her arm with her and they walked inside. It was a very peaceful place, with drawings on display, music playing and a diffuser. Of course. Jungkook was addicted to smells and very weird about them too.

The first person they saw was the red-haired lady Y/n had seen close to Jungkook the other day. Seen up close, she was even more stunning. Since Lisa was the one scheduling the session, the red-haired who introduced herself as Athena went to talk to Lisa to see what was she interested in. As she talked to her about the type of tattoo she wanted, presenting some sketches too for her to choose, Y/n looked around, praying she wouldn't see Jungkook while being there.

“What about you? What kind of design did you think of?” She asked Y/n, giving her a genuine smile. "First time? You don't have to stress about it honey, it's most likely for you not to feel a thing"

“Ohh I didn’t think of anything... You see I was totally caught up on this. I didn't know I was coming so I didn'--- "

“Her idea was to make a semicolon on her wrist. Something simple. Y/n, babe, we talked about this. You’re not gonna chicken out right?” Y/n looked at her friend and her answer shocked herself more than anyone else in the room. “Okay. Yes you’re right Lisa. I’m already here so why not?” Lisa opened her mouth, closing it up immediately, smiling. Change comes with little steps.

One step at a time

Athena showed Lisa some ideas until she finally chose what she liked the most. She was getting a sternum tattoo and the sketch Athena did was a piece of art, all those lines and details were just too perfect. She then excused herself to pick something up, disappearing for about 2 minutes, that's all it took for disaster to happen. While they were waiting for her to return they saw Jungkook walk through the door with two coffees. As he placed them on a small table in the entrance, Y/n realizes he didn't see them there, at least not until Athena returned to the room and spoke to him, causing him to look up where they were standing.

"Yooh Jkaay I'm glad you got here. Can you finish this design for me? I have these two pretty ladies here and the client will come by later to see if the drawing is ready but there are some parts I'm having trouble getting right, can you help me with this?” As soon as Jungkook looked up, he met Y/n's gaze, which was already focused on him. He had no reaction. “Hey lover boy. I know they’re pretty but I’m kinda waiting for an answer here”

“Hmmm.. Oh yeah- yes. You can leave it there I’ll be sure to give it a look.” his gaze was intense as it met yours but didn't say anything, as if he didn't know you. Athena thanked him and directed the two of them to a large room. While her friend took her shirt off and laid down on her back, Athena settled everything on the sterilized table. Y/n was inspecting the drawings on the wall, realizing Jungkook's signature on the end of all of them. After placing the artwork where Lisa wanted Athena grabbed the tattoo machine, filling the room with the sounds the needles working and Y/n got scared. She was sure that was gonna hurt. 10 minutes in there's a knock on the door. After Athena replied, Jungkook walked in the room with what Y/n thought was the drawing she asked him to check.

“This is fantastic Kook. If the idiot doesn't like it I'll have it myself. It's incredible." Jungkook smiled and looked at Y/n and then at Athena again. "This is going to be a lot of work Ath. It's full of details and has such a thin line. You have to be careful not to smudge as you clean it."

"I know, I hadn't realized that. It's going to be a challenge but it'll look cool on her body. I still have her friend to tattoo but that’s something small and quick.” Jungkook looked at her way.

“I can do it. I’m free and won’t have any client until noon.” Y/n froze in the moment. No fucking way.

"I can wait. It's okay, really." Jungkook looked at her, picked up some still-closed material and opened the door. "Come on, I'll take care of it." And for a second, Y/n didn't know how to breathe anymore

Jungkook was waiting for her to follow him. When he noticed she wasn't moving at all he called out for her name again. Unconsciously, Y/n ended up getting up and going after him but she didn't leave without looking at the place Athena and Lisa were, noticing the strange expression Athena made. Had Jungkook ever mentioned her?

He went ahead, taking her to a more private room which was on the first floor. It was quite far from all the other rooms and common area. When they arrived there, he motioned for her to sit in front of what she assumed was Jungkook's desk. There were photos of several people, she doesn’t remember meeting any of them until one got her attention: it was a picture of Jungkook and Sewoon together. He was wearing white and she was wearing a black dress. She remembers this day very well- It was in the beginning of their relationship and Sewoon was having a party with her agency and Jungkook was her date, they were both so pretty and cuddly and looked so into each other. Jungkook was treating her like a princess and it was the first time Y/n felt anger towards her best friend. She cried all night after getting home, spying Sewoon's instagram and all the love-dovey pics she was posting. What a night

He sat on the chair in front of Y/n, behind his desk to sketch what she wanted to tattoo when he noticed where her eyes were wandering at, grabbing the picture and putting it in a drawer. She didn’t say anything, looking everywhere but him.

“According to Athena you wanted just a simple semicolon on your wrist, right? So I did sketch want you wanted but added something more. If you don’t like it or want it you can say it and I'll do just what you initially wanted okay?” Jungkook showed her a design of a semicolon with a butterfly wing around it. It was honestly so beautiful. She remembers saying to him one time she identified herself as a butterfly, because no matter the situation she was going through she could always adapt herself and learn from it. Did he remember that?

“I- I love it Jungkook. This is so pretty and personal, I- Thank you, this is amazing. I’ll have it that way”

“Are you sure? It’s gonna be there forever”

“I’m 100% sure. Start this before I lose my courage” Jungkook gave her a nod, taking the paper and putting it on her skin with some wet liquid. He could tell she was nervous so he told her when he was about to start. “If you need me to stop let me know. We have time okay?” Y/n nodded

“You have amazing sketches here. Not that I didn't know but you're super talented, I feel grateful that it’s you doing this on me. When you become a world-renowned artist I'm gonna brag about it, I’m already warning you.” After their fight yesterday, Y/n was trying to ease the tension between them but he was making it hard. She missed Jungkook and wanted to clear things up with him. She was done with all the confusion and misunderstandings, however, Jungkook remained in silence. “Please Jungkook I’m trying. I miss you. I miss us. I don’t even understand what happened yesterday and I’m sorry for hurting you in any way. I’m tired of this! You're driving me crazy by leaving me in this void. I'm not like this Jk, you know it. I don't care about boys but just the thought of losing you is killing me. That's the effect you have on me!” He wasn’t paying attenton to her at all, or maybe he was just ignoring her on purpose, either ways she was getting more and more frustrated and did her best to keep her tears to herself since she couldn't get out of there. With her free hand, she surreptitiously wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve. What she didn’t know was that Jungkook was paying attention to all her movements.

“I’m sorry. I talk a lot with my clients for them to relax a bit but with you... I feel like if I talk I'm not gonna be able to concentrate and I don’t want to mess this up. You make me nervous just with your presence. That's the effect you have on me Y/n. When it comes to you I can't separate things”

"I could’ve waited for Athena to do it. Actually I think it’d be better, given the situation we are at right now. Damn Jungkook I put my guard down for you and now you're treating me like this, what for? You criticize me for avoiding things, yet you're doing the exact same thing, it's not fair. You can't say whatever you want, make me feel bad and then do the same to me. I know I messed up somewhere. I know I should've been braver, but you are such a special and necessary part of my life that I was afraid of you not feeling the same way, could break everything we built so far, which is stupid right now because that's exactly what happened. There is no way we can go back to what we were before” By the time she ended her speech, Jungkook was already putting the final touches on the tattoo, being done with it. Both of them remained silenced until he had picked up the tattoo protection to place it around her skin.

“Let’s do it then. Let’s put everything on the table and be honest because honestly I can’t handle this anymore too. Where do you want me to start? From the day we first met? I had the shittiest day ever it was raining so much. That’s what made me stop at the coffee shop. Then you looked absolutely gorgeous standing there looking at me and when you noticed I was staring back and pretended to have lost an earring, that caught my attention, how innocent and naive you looked. Then I started to get to know you better and it was it for me. It was so hard not to fall for you. I kept taking you out to places but you always friendzoned me somehow, I would tell you about non existing dates to see your reaction but you always had the same posture, I came to terms that it was a one-sided thing. Then Sewoon happened. When you introduced us, honestly I was very straightforward with her. I asked her about you, if you liked someone if you ever talked about me, you know, something to give me hope. But the answers she gave me weren’t the ones I expected to hear and I was so disappointed.” Y/n's system was soon on alert.

“What- - What did she tell you?” Jungkook took a while to answer which was making her impatient. She was about to lose her mind.

“She told me you were seeing someone and it was getting serious. That she was sorry but wouldn’t get in the way. After that, we kept talking a little more and when I was about to leave she was the one asking me to go out with her. Just a simple date so I said yes, maybe that would help me take my mind of you. Then things happened and time skipped and we broke up and yeah I didn’t take that well because no one likes to feel they failed at something, but I’m so glad we did. We didn’t align in anything, we fought a lot behind doors. Then came the party you and Sewoon went. I was already there remember? You looked so sad and the first thing I remembered was the guy you were supposed to be seeing. I was hoping you were long gone with the dude but the way you were acting and how you were talking to me ended up confirming Sewoon’s words about you and that special someone and I--- I lost my mind.”

“So you ended up kissing Sewoon to relieve all that anger, right?” She got up and slowly turned her way towards the door when Jungkook grabbed her arm.

“That was a terrible mistake. As soon as I realized what I did I stepped back immediately. After that I looked everywhere for you, but I didn’t found you. When I did, you told me you were leaving with someone and that was it. I tried talking to you all night but your phone was either out of reach or you wouldn’t respond.” There's this awkward silence until one of them spok again.

“That night broke me Jungkook. You broke me. I was there, I was hurt and you noticed something was up but all your eyes were looking at was Sewoon. I wished so many times it was me you were kissing, holding, touching. I'd see you with her and all I imagined was us. That was so toxic of me, that's why I left, because I couldn't see you leave with her knowing the next day I'd know everything about it."

They didn't realize how close they were until they felt each other's breath hitting their faces. Y/n doesn't know when things changed, but since the night at the restaurant there is something that pushes them towards each other. She gets a strange feeling in her belly, in her chest… down there. It's strange, she never felt something like this for anyone and it was confusing her. She knows if he asked her something she'd do it on the spot. It seems like Jungkook could feel the tension either because the hand that was previously on her arm was now around her waist, while the other caressed the right side of her face tucking some hair behind her ear. It was then that she felt the distance between them getting shorter and shorter, when all of a sudden they heard someone knock on the door, opening it, revealing Athena's slightly confused figure.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, I heard voices and came to check if you were okay, as it's not usual for you to bring anyone here. I-- hmm- just wanted to let you know that I finished Lisa's piece and we're downstairs drinking some coffee and talking in case you'd want to join us when you finished whatever you were.... doing, but no pressure, make yourself comfortable, I didn't see anything. Use protection, okay? You still have a life to enjoy before any surprises." Jungkook made a desperate sound looking at Athena and throwing something at her

"Don't be an idiot, it's not what it looks like and you know it. Anyone hearing you talk would think you see me doing a lot of dirty things here. Work is work and I take it very seriously." Jungkook paused, glacing at Y/n, just to speak again. " We'll meet you downstairs in 10 minutes, I just need to finish explaining how she should handle this in the next few days." Athena hummed, giving them a nod before leaving. However, they heard her tell Lisa that - they were busy and would probably take longer to joy them- They knew she spoke loud for them to hear. Jungkook went to a drawer and took out a cream, handing it to Y/n.

"For the next three days you must avoid direct sunlight on the area. This protection should last for 24 hours, then you can remove it in the shower or by wetting the area with warm water, drying it well and applying the cream two or three times a day. If you feel any itching, that's normal, but if you see red spots around it let me know so I can check it out. But in principle, everything should be fine." Y/n nodded and thanked him, grabbing her wallet, heading towards the door but stopped halfway and turned around, facing Jungkook.

"Did you sleep with Sewoon here?"those words came out faster than Y/n could control. Why the hell did she ask that. Jungkook wasn't expecting that either, because his mouth opened and closed several times, not knowing what to answer, a little embarrassed. This gave Y/n a feeling that maybe the answer was yes. "Never mind, sorry, I don't know why I asked this. Forget it." She turned around again ready to open the door. She was about to do so when a hand above her head slammed the door shut again with a bang.

"Why do you always put me in difficult positions? It's past and - aiish- No Y/n, I didn't. This is my office, my space, my privacy, I don't bring anyone for anything more than work, not even Sewoon. This wasn't exactly the space she liked to frequent the most" Y/n nodded.

"I don't know why I asked, I'm sorry. Being here knowing that you and her were- you know- that would be just weird and gross. I mean, who knows what kind of "things" would be around here and-- Okay, nevermind. How about we go down? They're waiting for us and will start thinking stuff about us being here."

"So? Let them think what they want to think.. I'm not bothered at all. Are you?" When Y/n was about to answer, the door opened without warning revealing an excited Athena again, but she didn't realize that when she opened the door she had hit Y/n with it. "Shit Ath be careful. Knock before coming in. Jesus"

"Dude, I don't know what the situation is between you two, but behind the door is definitely not the best place. Been there, done that. It's interesting but not comfortable. Also, why are you so bothered by the knocking thing all of a sudden? That was never a rule. Just put something on the door handle to when you're busy doing other things. That's what I do with your broth-"

"Aiiiishh Athena. I'm not really interested in what you and my brother do or don't do, How disgusting. We were just talking! Stop being nosy and up on my ass. What's the matter with you today? why are you always coming here thought? You never care when I’m upstairs”

“Well you’re always by yourself, there’s nothing for me to pry on. Either way, I came here to tell you that the client you had for noon called to inform he’s no longer able to come. His wife went into labour, so you’re free for now”

“Well at least is for some good reasons. I’ll call him up later to reschedule.” Athena would steal glances from Jungkook to Y/n with a funny look, trying to see something she could pick up to tease them more “Anyway, I think I’ll grab lunch with Lisa. She’s pretty rad. Do you wanna come?” It was Y/n’s turn to speak

“I actually have some things to get done, but you go and have fun. Maybe we can grab a coffee later?” All she wanted was to run. After that stupid question she made she just wanted somewhere to hide.

“Of course, just give me your number. It’ll be easier” they both switched numbers and Athena gave a final goodbye to her, giving her a hug and winking to Jungkook, whispering behave before shutting the door completely. What the hell.

“So... The girls are leaving and you probably have things to do too so I should get going as well. I have to meet up with Joon, he asked me if I could stop by so hmmm, yeah. Thanks for your time. If - if I have any questions I’ll pass by. Thank you once again." This was her cue to leave. Uttering those words she was out of the door, running down the stairs getting closer and closer to the main door but when she reached it, it was locked.

Goddamn it!

She was thinking about calling Lisa to turn around and wait for her when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn't dare to look back but in question of minutes she felt Jungkook's chest against her back, hearing him whisper

"Why are you always in such a rush when it comes to me? What are you so afraid of?" Jungkook turned her around to face him. "Let yourself go Y/n. For me, for you, for us. We've been over the friendship thing for a while now, don't you think? No matter how much you try to deny it, the attraction is here" He was so close to her she could feel his heartbeat.

"I can't" She whispered. "Everytime I look at you I get myself reminded of how you used to be with Sewoon. There was her before me and I can't compare. I can't erase that image of my head. I- I want to forget, but I can't"

"I'll help you forget. Let me help you forget, but mainly let me show you how there's no comparison between you and her" They were so close and there was so much desire so she let herself go and feel all she wanted, grabbing Jungkook by the hem of his grey shirt and closing the distance between them. The response to the kiss was automatic. Y/n felt Jungkook kiss her back as if he had already been waiting for this moment. Slowly at first, like they were testing each other, until he slowly pushed her against the door, placing his hand behind her neck, deepening the kiss. She never had a kiss like that. At this point she felt the entire zoo inside her and she was aware of everything around her: of how Jungkook's hands were hovering over her body, how their mouths were thirsty for each other, the way their bodies were so close yet so far.

It was just them and their desire for each other. And at that moment that was all that mattered.

Bonus: The famous tattoos made

Lisa’s OC'S

You're welcome ;)

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811 @cryingoverpixelsetc @11thenightwemet11 @rinkud @ayatie97 @jk-190811 @shaku1995 @blueberriesm @darkangelfei

#jungkook #angst #bts #jungkook imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #fluff #imagines #kpop romance #kpopangst #tattoos

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