#People trying to turn it around and make Will the heart…

[jarofstyles]

Line Work

Hello my ducklings. We’ve got a hefty one shot for you- featuring nervous cutie pie Har, blunt and bold Y/N, a bee tattoo, someone definitely needing to sanitize their whole station, wasted baked goods and a good helping of spice 😋

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WC- 14.1k

Warnings- slight anxiety/people pleasing, tattooing, needles, switch! Y/N and H, mean Dom!Y/N, soft Dom!Har, choking, impact play, pain kink, slight humiliation and degradation, unprotected sex, cream pie

Harry was nervous, and it was silly. It wasn’t like he didn’t have tattoos… he had so many he could barely count them, actually. He liked the pain, probably more than he should, he wasn’t worried about regretting them, but the thing that had him a little anxious was the tattoo artist herself. 

Y/N, or Angel as she was known to most people in the tattooing scene, was intimidating. She was beautiful, so beautiful that it had him feeling like his tongue couldn’t form words. He’d fumbled through his consultation, getting stuck on looking at her black liner that seemed sharp enough to cut, the tattoos covering her exposed arms, the pout of her vampy red lined lips.. it had made him feel like an idiot when she had to ask questions a few times to get his attention.

The thing was, she hadn’t been mean! Not in the slightest. She was just… quiet. More reserved. To the point. She hadn’t fed into his small talk too much, really hadn’t asked him much about himself, kept it only to the tattoo… and maybe he was spoiled for it, but he really wanted her to like him! Sure she was his tattoo artist but they could be friends, couldn’t they? 

…So maybe he had a bit of a crush on her and it was distracting. Sue him! But he just… really wanted her attention. Was that so bad? 

On the day of his first tattoo appointment, he’d tried to be prepared. Doing all the things he’d normally do to prep (this wasn’t his first rodeo even if it felt like it), on top of getting her a few pastries from the coffee shop he’d gotten his drink from. As much of a suck up it probably made him seem to be, he really wanted to impress her, make her feel like he was a good client. Maybe someone worthy of talking to after the tattoo was finished.

The tattoo shop wasn’t exactly like the ones he was used to. It was lighter and brighter, pale green walls covered with neatly framed examples of flash or other tattoos she and the other artists at the studio had in their portfolios. It felt a little more like a zen massage studio than anything else and he knew it should relax him, but he felt the nerves in his throat like a lump, sitting there as he got it together to greet the woman.

Clearing his throat, he held out the pastry box, trying to sound casual despite his racing heart. "Hi! Um, I brought some pastries for you and the team. I hope you like them, I wasn’t sure what t’get so I kept it but free and the separate box is something gluten free." He looked at her expectantly, hoping she'll accept the gesture- not think he was fucking weird for it. "I just wanted to show my appreciation for your time today. I know y’must be really busy, and I know your time is valuable. It was really kind of you to squeeze me in on your off day." He trailed off, catching himself in the babbling.

Her eyes looked him over, then to the box. A pink box with a red ribbon bow tying it all together, some fancy cafe name on the top of it that matched the cup in his hand. The corners of her lips twitched as she took the box, nodding as she placed it on the desk. “Thanks. I like money.” That… hadn’t been the response he had been expecting but then again- Y/N wasn’t exactly predictable. “It’ll just be us today, the studio is empty otherwise.” 

His cheeks turned slightly pink. He'd assumed there'd be more people around. Being alone with her? No one to cut the tension? That hadn’t been a part of the plan either. "Of course," he stammered, running a hand through his hair, trying to fix it. It had definitely been a nervous habit he’d tried to cut but… it still popped up. "I didn't mean to assume..." He trailed off again, cursing himself for being so awkward. Trying to regain his composure, he glanced around the studio again, admiring her taste and the peaceful atmosphere. At least the zen vibe came in handy. "Your studio is really nice. Different from what I expected but... in a good way..."

“Thanks, I think.” She nodded, moving from behind the desk. “I’ve got to get the stencil printed now, but you can get comfortable on the bench if y’want.” Her hair swished behind her as she led him towards her station. “Think we’ll be doing outline today, shading when you come back. Is that something you can do?” Her eyes went over his arms. “You’ve done this enough times, probably know the drill by now.”

Harry nodded eagerly, falling into step beside her, almost tripping over his own feet in his efforts to catch up. "Yeah, absolutely. I've got loads of tattoos but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. I went through a phase where I got a ton in a three year span and figured I should chill out before I lost space later on." He tried to sound casual as he glanced at the various supplies laid out on her station, swallowing nervously. Even though he'd sat through plenty of tattoo sessions, the thought of her hands on him sent a little shiver down his spine. He didn’t know what his body was going to do. "So uh, how long have you been tattooing? If you don't mind me asking."

She took a moment to answer, back towards him as she sat at her laptop to send the design she’d drawn up to the printer. Tapping her nails against the counter, she let out a hum in her throat before turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Legally? 5 years.”

He blinked, surprised by her frank response. Finding her through a friend of a friend of a friend, he knew she was exclusive and a bit hard to get into, but he didn’t know much about her apparently. "Only 5 years? That's impressive, though. Your work is amazing." He quickly seated himself on the bench, trying to appear nonchalant despite the compliments bubbling out of him. His fingers drummed nervously on his thigh as he waited for her to finish setting up. "I bet you've seen a lot of weird requests in that time, huh?"

“Legally is the keyword here. I got a shitty tattoo gun online and practice skins when I was in school. Got good enough that I was fairly confident I wasn’t going to completely fuck up people’s skin and have them fight me, started doing them to make a couple bucks at parties.” She shrugged, standing up to go towards the printer, loading the stencil on. “I’ve done a lot of shit. You don’t really say no as an apprentice either, but now that m’taking my own clients I can be picky.”

His eyes widened slightly at her admission. To be fair, he hadn’t asked most of his artists how they’ve gotten started. They were super big talkers, but he felt that pull towards her and wanted to know little things. "You're self-taught? That's insane." He watched as she walked over to him with the stencil, his heart beating a little faster as she came closer. "That's... really cool." He bit his lip, trying to think of something else to say. Anything that wasn’t stupid or cliche- but came up empty. Cliche was better than stupid, he supposed. "So uh, what kind of requests do you usually turn down, if you don't mind me asking? Like... anything too offensive or just..."

“No hate speech or symbols, no neck or face tattoos for someone who’s not heavily inked, try to avoid hand tattoos because they come out like shit, and I prefer not to do the stereotypical shit.” She recited, laughing under her breath. “N’then there’s shit I just don’t like. Clocks, roses, lions. They aren’t bad, but I’ve got no interest in doing them.” She looked back over at him. “Bees are cool. I like tattooing insects. So I accepted your idea.”

A small smile played on his lips as he listened to her standards, appreciating how serious she took her craft. "I get that. I've seen some questionable clock and lion combinations." He chuckled nervously, adjusting himself on the bench as she moved closer with the transfer paper. " I really love bees. We used t’keep them in my backyard growing up." His shirt was already rolled up to expose his upper arm where the design would go. "Although... I have to say I'm happy you don't want to do cliche designs. My last... well, my last girlfriend, she wanted me to get one of those heart and dagger tattoos." He felt his cheeks flush at the admission, wishing he hadn't brought up an ex around her. "Not really my style anymore. I like having... meaningful stuff on my skin, you know? Stuff that actually represents me. I went through the phase of getting random shit for the hell of it. I don’t regret them but they definitely aren’t my favorite. Wanted to be more intentional. Get stuff I really love, or stuff that represents that." He paused before adding quietly, "Like bees. For my mum."

Her smile was ever so lightly on the corner of her lips as she nodded, brushing the hair out of her face. “Good. Don’t get shitty tattoos for demanding girlfriends. Cardinal rule. Shit doesn’t turn out well.” Her hand gripped his muscular arm, turning it slightly to get a view of the gap where he had said he wanted the tattoo. “Alright. Any placement changes, or is here still good?”

"Yeah, that spot is perfect..." His voice trailed off as he watched her face, those dark eyes and lips distracting him from anything else. Probably not the smartest idea but it felt like a privilege to be up close like this.

“Alright. Once it’s on you’re going to stand up and take a look in the mirror. if you want to move it, even if it’s just an angle- tell me.” Her face was serious as she put on her gloves, prepping the skin for the stencil. “Don’t people please. It’s on your body forever, not mine. We can take it off and put it back on again when it’s just a stencil, not when I use the needles.” With a careful hand she used the pink disposable razor over the skin, clearing it completely and wiping it yet again before centering the image. She was precise, making sure it was where she deemed fit before placing it down, running her hand over the sheet to pat it into the skin.

Harry nodded obediently, trying to be still under her touch. "I trust you." He caught himself, realizing how weird that might sound, and cleared his throat. "I mean, I trust your expertise. Obviously." When she was finished with the stencil, he glanced up at her nervously. "Want me to look in the mirror now?"

“Yep.” Her attention was already on cleaning up the station a bit as he stood up, walking towards the full length mirror she had mounted on the wall. Giving him a few moments to see if he liked the placement, she turned back to see him flex slightly to watch how the ink moved with the muscle. Y/N was professional, but she wasn’t blind. Harry was a very good looking man, and the tattoo would suit him well. “Good?”

"It looks perfect." He met her gaze in the mirror, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You've got a great eye. S’exactly where I want." He turned back to her, hoping he didn't look too eager. "I can't wait to see how it turns out. It looks amazing just on here like this…." His fingers unconsciously traced the edges of the stencil, imagining the bee buzzing to life on his skin under her skilled hands. "So uh, how long until we start? I can try to relax. I don’t want to be in the way."

“You can sit down on the bench and drink your coffee if you’d like. I just need to get the prep started, wash my hands and change gloves.” Said hands made work of it, methodically taking out her supplies, lining up the needles and ink pot she had filled. “You know how it goes, I assume you don’t need the whole speech about how it’ll feel and all that.” Considering how inked he was, she was a bit confused at his questions so far, but she did tattoo some odd clients so it wasn’t anything too off putting. He was cute, in a way. Like an overly excited puppy at a training class. Nervous but eager.

He nodded, a light blush on his cheeks as he realized he was probably asking too many questions out of nerves rather than genuine curiosity. "Right, of course. I'll just relax and enjoy my tea then." He settled back onto the bench, trying to appear calm as he took a sip from his cup. The taste was smoothing, a stark contrast to the jittery feeling in his stomach. 

As hard as he tried not to stare, the way she moved captivating him. Her dark clothes, black liner, and the tattoos peeking out from under her tank top only added to her allure. Even the sterile smell of the shop couldn't mask her own subtle scent - something sweet with a little spice- that made him more excited for her close contact while she tattooed so he could figure it out. He took another sip of his tea, hoping the slight caffeine would calm his nerves, but he suspected the real cause of his excitement was seated right in front of him.

He really did want her to like him, wanted her to think he was a decent client, someone she could tolerate chatting with during breaks. Maybe even someone she'd consider going out with. The thought sent a thrill through him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on his coffee instead. The last thing he wanted to be was one of those guys, but it was hard to ignore her. As he sat there, he found his eyes drifting back to Angel, studying her from under his lashes. He wrinkle in her brow in concentration, the way her hair fell in loose waves down her back, even with it pulled into a ponytail... 

Fuck, he was in trouble.

“I’m going to go wash my hands but did you want t’use the bathroom or anything before we start?” She slipped her gloves off and stretched her arms above her head, trying to loosen her body up before she was hunched over tattooing. It was most definitely, 100% going to cause her issues one day- but at least she loved her job. Rather a creaking back over a creaking soul, her grandmother told her.

"No, m’good thanks." He nodded a bit too eagerly, trying not to stare at how her stretch made her tank top rise slightly, catching the piercing in her belly button. It was far more attractive than he could have imagined. Did he have a thing for piercings? Maybe it was just her.. Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes to meet hers instead of taking advantage of her casual pose. "Should I, uh... where do you want my arm? Positioned I mean. I want to make it as easy as I can." The nerves were making him babble again, but he couldn't help it. Her presence just did something to him. He knew he could get a little sappy over people he had crushes on but this was a whole other story.

“I’ve got the attachment for the bench. Give me a second.” Rolling it over from where she had it parked and prepped, wrapped in Saran Wrap, she placed it next to him and took his arm with her now bare hands to adjust it. “This is how I’m going to have you sitting, so figure out how you’d like yourself situated. I’ll be right back.”

Nodding dumbly, he watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips before forcing his gaze elsewhere. Get a grip, he chided himself silently as he settled onto the bench attachment, positioning himself as comfortably as he could. Why did he like when she ordered him around so much? He tried to focus on something other than her, like the sound of the water turning on in the restroom, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the feel of her hands on him.

Harry fidgeted slightly as he waited, adjusting his position again, trying to find the perfect angle. He couldn't shake the fluttering feeling in his chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He knew he was being pathetic about the whole thing, but that didn’t stop him from being that way. When Angel returned, her hands freshly washed and gloved once more, he offered her a slightly strained smile. "Ready when you are."

As she prepared to start the process, Harry found himself holding his breath. He could feel her hands on his arm, the gentle pressure as she adjusted his position, and he wanted more of that. Any kind of touch.. When she finally picked up the needle, he let out a slow exhale, watching as she began to work. There was no warning as she started, correctly assuming he didn’t need to be babied over it and given a countdown. At least she thought he was capable of that.  The sound of the needle moving across his skin was almost hypnotic, and he found himself relaxing into the process, his eyes drifting closed as he let Angel's skilled hands take over.

The pain of the tattoo needle was sharp, nothing he wasn't used to. Nothing he didn’t… enjoy. But the real reason he was enjoying this experience so much was the feeling of Angel's touch, the focus and concentration evident on her face as she worked. He couldn't help but sneak glances at her, admiring the way her face looked as she was set in concentration, the way her lips pressed together in a soft pout as she blew a loose strand of hair from her eyes. Fuck, she was pretty when she was working. She had to be pretty all the time.

Harry bit his lip, trying to keep quiet as he sat there. It wasn't easy, especially when the needle kept sending zings of pleasured pain through his body. It wasn’t like it didn’t hurt- it absolutely did. But he had always found himself to like it. Pain was welcome to him. Not many understood. The focus now was on staying as still as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was be annoying or break her concentration. So he just sat there, breathing slowly and trying to relax into the process. Occasionally he'd let out a soft hum or clear his throat if she hit a particularly sensitive area, but he kept his voice low and tried not to draw attention to himself.

After a few minutes of silence, her voice surprisingly broke it first. “I hear feel you thinking.” She laughed under her breath, wiping away at excess ink before peering up at him momentarily. “You alright?”

Harry's eyes snapped open at her comment, his cheeks flushing slightly- again- as he realized she probably heard him making little noises the whole time. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant despite the heat in his cheeks. He glanced down at his arm, watching as the bee began to take shape. "Just a little sensitive in a few spots, that's all." He hoped that was enough of an explanation to satisfy her curiosity.

 It was impossible to be truly honest with her. Harry liked the pain. He couldn’t tell her that it was arousing to feel the needle more than it hurt. 

The sharp drag of it over his skin, the pain mingling with something else entirely - a warm, tingly sensation that spread through his core every time it hit a particularly sensitive spot. It was fucked up, he knew it was, but he couldn't deny the way his heart raced or the way his stomach clenched each time she pressed down harder. 

He was getting hard, he was getting fucking hard from a goddamn tattoo and he couldn't tell her that, could he?

The feeling was wrong, so fucking wrong. He was supposed to be getting a tattoo, not getting turned on. But every press of the needle, every gentle drag across his skin, sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, trying to adjust himself discreetly, praying she wouldn't notice the growing bulge in his jeans. Fuck, no. No, no, no. There was no way this was going to happen. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his breathing even, to not make a sound that would give him away.

It was humiliating, absolutely embarrassing that his cock was twitching to life under Angel's hands. He'd always had a thing for pain, got off on it in ways he wasn't proud of, but Jesus Christ, this was a new low. An artist this pretty, this intimidating, tattooing him? It was like every fucked up kink of his was colliding.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying desperately to think of anything else. Baseball stats, grocery lists, his grandmother, global warming and its dire acceleration —anything to distract himself from the growing throb in his jeans. But every pass of the needle, every soft exhale from Angel against his already sensitive skin sent another jolt straight to his dick. It was useless. The more he tried not to think about it, the harder he got. He was screwed. Quite literally, it seemed.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard, fighting back a groan as the needle traced a particularly sensitive line. Hell, even the way she'd occasionally wipe away ink with her gloved hands was making him crazy. It was like a teenager again getting hard at nothing. A light sheen of sweat formed at his temples, despite the cool air conditioning in the shop. It wasn’t hot, but he certainly was..

Angel took notice, as much as he hoped she wouldn’t. “Harry, you look a little sick.” Her voice turned slightly concerned as she paused, taking her foot off the pedal. “Do you need a minute or something? Don’t keep quiet about this shit. If you’re going to get sick I’d rather you do it in a trash can or something.”

He blinked rapidly, trying to come up with a proper excuse. It was difficult considering his dick was starting to hurt now from being so hard for so long- it held all the blood, apparently. Licking his lips nervously, he tried for a reassuring smile that he knew probably looked more like a grimace. "Nah, I'm alright. Just... a bit overheated, I think." He shifted again uncomfortably, praying she'd buy the excuse. "Can we keep going? Really don't wanna waste your time." Lie.

Her darkly lined eyes narrowed at his blatant lie, giving him a raised eyebrow as she adjusted herself on the rolling stool. It wasn’t often that a client looked sick and didn’t just admit it after she pressed. “It’s not a waste of time. You’re my only client today. If you need a breather you can take it. I’ll go out for a smoke or something.”

Harry was a shit liar- he could feel the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. He didn't want a breather, not even a second of not feeling her hands, not even a moment of not smelling her perfume even if it made him feel insane. He was a masochist, plain and simple, sitting there getting tattooed while his body ached with unwanted arousal. Not only that, but he really didn’t want to chance her truly figuring it out. He would be mortified. "No really, I'm fine," he insisted, his voice coming out hoarser than intended. "Let's just keep going, okay?"

Angel's expression darkened, a hint of irritation mixing with her concern as she watched him squirm on the bench, looking flushed and sweaty. She knew that he was lying through his teeth. "You look like you're about to pass out," she snapped, her tone laced with a hint of her natural impatience. "I'm not gonna have you faint or vomit on the bench and waste a whole day because you're too stubborn to take a break. So tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes flickered nervously as he avoided her gaze, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. He knew if he told her the truth, she'd think he was a freak. Who gets turned on by getting tattooed, for God's sake? He was trapped in a cycle of lying and sweating, his mind racing with how to explain his strange behavior without sounding like a pervert. "It's just... the pain."

“Is it too much for you?” Her face lightened, looking over his arm. “You have a ton of ink. Is it like this for you every time?” Obviously that was something she could understand, to a degree. She had tattoos in places that really hurt, but the placement shouldn’t be too painful. And considering her casual perusal of his Instagram after their consultation, he had a sternum piece. This should be nothing compared to that. 

"No, no, it's not too much pain," he sputtered quickly, waving a hand to brush off her concern. "I mean, yeah, I've got a lot of ink but that's not... I'm used to it." He shifted uncomfortably again, realizing this wasn't getting any easier. His cock throbbed insistently against his zipper, reminding him of his embarrassing predicament. "It's just... really hot in here, isn't it?" he tried weakly.

She leaned up, gripping his chin with her gloved hand. “Are you on something?” The words were low and frankly, pissed off. That was one of the things in her waivers that she had him sign and she’d told him that when they first talked. “I don’t judge people for taking shit but if you’re high when I told you not to take anything before you came to the appointment I’m going to be pissed. I don’t work with people off their ass in my station.”

He felt his heart stutter at her touch, her dark eyes boring into his with genuine worry - and something else. Something almost intense, almost aggressive. Fuck, she was so close. "No, I'm not on anything!" he said urgently, meeting her gaze. "I swear." His breath caught slightly in his throat, realizing how she could easily mistake his flushed state and strange behavior. "It's... the heat, really." Another fucking lie. His cock throbbed again, seemingly mocking him.

Y/N didn’t buy it. Not when he looked so nervous. He was either high, or sick, or… Her eyes looked over his body, trying to find any tells, any obvious signs of discomfort- and it didn’t take long to find it.

 He was hard. She could see the sizable bulge, making her manicured eyebrow raise again, looking back to his face.

He was busted. Completely and utterly found out. He could see the question forming on her lips, the way her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was screwed. "Angel-" he started, trying to think of any explanation that wouldn't make him sound like a pervert.

“You could have just said you’ve got a thing for pain.” Releasing his chin, she shook her head and moved across her station to get on new gloves- no chancing any contamination. “Stressing us both out for no reason. I like direct communication. Don’t bullshit me anymore. I can handle a bodily reaction.”

Harry stared at her, mouth agape, a bit floored by her bluntness. She just... called him out, no judgment, no disgust, just straightforward honesty. It was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking witnessed. "Shit," he breathed, slumping back onto the bench. "Okay, yeah. I do have a thing for pain." No point in denying it now. "But not like, fucking weird pain," he added quickly. "Just... the endorphins, I guess?"

“I get it. I like it too. It’s fine, I’m not judging you. You haven’t been a creep or anything. Besides.” Placing the new gloves down on her station, she tapped her fingers over his cheek a few times. “You’re not the first to get hard on this bench. At least you’re cute.” Like she hadn’t said anything she moved her hand away.

Cute? He was cute? It was an one off compliment and yet his mind was spinning. Pathetic, his need for praise- How much he liked knowing he was attractive. She wasn't judging him, she understood his thing for pain, and she thought he was cute. He felt like he was dreaming, like this was some kind of bizarre, albeit wonderful hallucination. He watched, entranced, as she put her gloves back on and reached for the needle again. "So... you're used to this?" he asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly.

“Somewhat. It isn’t the most common reaction, but it’s something that happens. You haven’t been making weird comments or very obviously leering at me, which gets people kicked out. I understand why you lied. You didn’t want me to be uncomfortable. But you don’t have to be embarrassed. I can tell you are.” She shrugged her shoulder, picking up her gun with her freshly gloved hand. “You get hard at all your appointments? Or is it just me?”

His face burned with embarrassment, but at the same time, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. She wasn't disgusted, she wasn't judging him harshly - she was actually understanding, even a little amused. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "It's... not just you," he admitted quietly, feeling his heart trying to find its way down and out of his throat. "But you're the first artist I've told. M’usually better at hiding it."

“Yeah?” Pressing the needle back to the stencil, she watched as his eyelids lulled, a slight wince but a dash of what she now knew had to be arousal washing over his face. “Hm… That alright with you?”

Nodding slowly, his eyes fluttered closed as the needle resumed its work. It was alright, more than alright. It was fucking incredible. He felt so relieved, so understood. If it was possible, his crush on her grew tenfold. "Yeah, that's alright," he murmured, his voice deeper than it had been before. There was no hiding the effect it was having on him- and she had said he didn’t have to. "Really alright."

As the tattoo progressed, Harry found himself sinking deeper into a state of blissful discomfort. The needle continued its path on his skin, each pass sending a jolt of pleasured pain straight to his core. He could smell her perfume with every lean- which he was fairly certain was vanilla with sandalwood, maybe a bit of tobacco since she had mentioned taking a smoke- could feel the heat radiating from her body as she worked intently. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

He squirmed a little bit, making her pause. “Stop moving, yeah? Be a good boy.” It was teasing, really, but she saw the look on his face. Harry liked it. 

Harry froze, his breath hitching in his throat at her words. "A good boy," he echoed softly, his voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He felt his face flush an even deeper shade of red as he held still, trying not to squirm. Was she flirting with him? Or was his horny brain just hearing things he wanted to hear? Either way, the command had his dick throbbing in his jeans. “Uh- okay. I can.. do that.” 

Continuing the tattoo, all she could notice was that he was stiff- squirmy. She could tell he was trying his absolute best not to move, but he wanted to and it was distracting. Ten minutes passed, the outline almost done, and she really couldn’t keep up with this. She needed him to be relaxed, still, and calm… and not so distracting to her. Harry was cute. Really, utterly adorable. Hot in the way she liked but in demeanor he was nervous and twitchy. So cute… That she was going to do something about it.

 “Alright.” Turning the machine off again, she crossed her arms. “You’re too stiff. We’re almost done with the tattoo… but I need you to relax.” Moving a hand, she rest it on his knee and curled her fingers around it. “I don’t do shit like this, but you’re cute. Let’s get you off so you can chill the fuck out.”

Harry's eyes widened in shock, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as she spoke to him in such a matter of fact way. Did she really just... offer to get him off? Right here in the tattoo shop? Or was this a wet dream?  He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "You uh, you don't have to-" he started weakly, but even as he said it, his body betrayed him, a visible shudder running through him at her touch as soon as she moved.

“You can say no.” She trailed her finger up his thigh. “We don’t have to do anything. But you’re trying to be good, and you can’t help that all you can probably think about is that cock. Whatever you’re gonna do to it after. Stroke it, go find someone to suck it off. Kinda makes me jealous, if I’m honest.” It looked big. That’s something she wanted. She was so tired of mediocre, selfish lays and if anything, it seemed like Harry was the type more than eager to please her. “So if you don’t want me to touch you, I can stop…”

"Fuck," he hissed, his hips lifting slightly at her words, completely failing at maintaining his cool facade. How was he supposed to think straight when she was saying shit like that? Her hand on his thigh was making his head fuzzy, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans. "No, don't stop," he breathed out, voice trembling. 

“There we go. Finally being honest with me.” She hummed, her other hand stroking over his cheek. “So sweet.” Tapping over his nose, her hands retreated to take the gloves off completely. “Alright, off with your belt then. Let yourself out.”

He stared at her for a long moment, speechless. Something about how blunt she was, how she ordered him around.. it was something he hadn’t experienced much of before, but he had always wanted to try. Never had he imagined it would be today, with his tattoo artist that made him incredibly intimidated and eager to please but he supposed that’s what made it so good. 

Swallowing hard, he reached for his belt, unbuckling it with shaking hands before unlatching his jeans. He hesitated, looking up at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Like, all the way?" he asked hoarsely. God, he felt like a fucking teenager again. Nervous and excited and completely out of his depth. "And you're really just gonna...?"

“All the way. Yes, I’m going to touch it.” She discarded the gloves and pushed the tray table to the side- ink was a pain to clean up. “Don’t be afraid. As cute as being shy is, I have a feeling you’re really a needy little thing. Let me see your cock, sweetheart.”

His breath hitched at her words, his face burning with a deep, flush. Christ, she was so blunt, so fucking direct, something he had never dealt with in a woman before… And he ate it up, loving every second of it. With a shaking hand, he slowly pushed his jeans and boxers down, his hard, thick cock springing free. He was big, really fucking big, and the head was already leaking precome. "Fuck," he muttered, looking up at her with wide eyes, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his size.

His cock was long and thick, proportional to his tall frame. The veins were prominent, the head swollen and dark pink, almost painful from how worked up he’d gotten. Precum leaked steadily from the slit, making him a little embarrassed. He knew she’d be able to see just how fucked up he’d gotten from it all. The base was thick, the root of his cock visible under his neatly groomed pubic hair as it pulsed rhythmically, betraying how horny he actually was. 

As Angel wrapped her hand around him, she could feel how much bigger he was than most men she'd encountered. The velvety soft skin was hot under her touch. She couldn't help but run her thumb over the shiny, leaking tip, spreading the bead of precum around the swollen slit. "My god, you are a big boy, aren’t you?” She murmured in a honeyed tone. “Such a pretty cock, Harry. It was aching this whole time?”

Her hand felt like heaven wrapped around him. The most welcome damn relief he’s ever felt. Biting his lip to stifle a moan, he watched as she spread the precome around his tip, the sensitive cock jumping at the contact. "Fuck, yeah," he panted, his hips shifting. "It’s been hard the whole time. I-I didn’t wanna move and fuck up the linework or anything..." He trailed off, watching her touch him with wide, dilated eyes.

“How sweet. You knew I’d be pissed if you messed up my work.” She cooed. “You‘ve been a mess this whole time, though. Is it because you think I’m pretty, Harry?” She tilted her head to the side as she leaned over, pursing her lips and letting a trail of spit dribble down to his cock. Hand spreading it around him, she wanted an answer. “Hm?”

"Shit," he cursed softly under his breath as the spit slid down his length, her hand moving expertly to spread it around. He nodded quickly, his face flush with embarrassment but his eyes dark with desire. He knew he was kinda into it, kind of liked a bit of humiliation but actively getting it made him feel crazy in the best way. "Yes," he breathed out, totally caught. "I mean, look at you..." He swallowed hard, watching how perfectly her long fingers circled his shaft. "The tattooing, the... the perfume, those fucking lips... god, your whole vibe, you're..." He trailed off, face burning. "Killer."

“Killer, huh?” That got a laugh out of her. “That’s so funny. Big, bad, tattooed Harry… intimidated by me. Got all that muscle, all that money, and all it takes to get you to fold is a pretty woman and some pain?”

"Shut up," he muttered, trying to look stern but failing miserably. His cheeks were on fire, his heart racing in his chest as she laughed at him. But fuck, it was a good laugh, and the way her eyes lit up only made him melt more. "I'm not intimidated," he insisted, but his voice wavered. "I just... appreciate beauty when I see it, okay? And you're fucking stunning.”

“Oh, sweet little baby…” She cooed, squishing his cheeks with her free hand, making his lips pucker. “Better watch the way you talk to me, m’kay? I could make you cum like this…” She squeezed around him, twisting her hand as she stroked his cock. “I could let you fuck me. Bend me over the bench, or get on top of you. I could suck you off, or…” She took her hand away, letting his sticky cock fall back against his stomach. “I could stop. I’m in charge here.”

His cheeks burned at her words, her voice like honey and venom, sweet and dangerous to his well being. She may as well kill him. "Fuck." He panted out, watching her hand leave his dick. It throbbed, aching for her touch again. He knew the game, knew when someone had the power. Angel fucking had all the power right now. "You're a bully," he muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. "What do you want?" He swallowed hard, eyes flicking between hers and her hand.

“I want you to be nice to me. Where’s my sweet boy gone?” A faux pout painted her lips. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat. Took time away to try and make you feel good and you’re calling me a bully…” Shaking her head, she curled her fingers around the hem of  her tank top, pulling over her head to expose her tits. “You could touch them, if my nice boy came back. But you’re being mean to me.”

His voice caught in his throat as she pulled off her top, revealing her breasts, nipples hard and perfect and… when had he ever been shocked into stupidity? Was this a new record?. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "M’not being mean!” He tried to save, but his voice was hoarse, his eyes glued to her chest. He could practically hear his mom lecturing him, about disrespecting women, about using sweet words and gentle touches. And goddammit, he was gonna lose his hard-on if he kept thinking about that. 

“No?” Holding her tits in her hands, she lightly pinched her nipples between her fingers. “You’re ready to be nice t’me?”

"Yeah," he said quickly, sitting up properly and moving so she stood between his spread thighs. As her hands dropped from her chest, she stepped further between his legs and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to take her breasts in his hands, gently squeezing them. Fuck, they were perfect. So soft and warm, the nipples hard under his thumbs. “M’sorry," he murmured, looking up at her with wide, apologetic eyes. "I'll be nice. I'll be your sweet boy." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Please touch me again, Angel." He begged softly. 

His lips moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone and down to her sternum. He worshipped her chest with his mouth as he kissed and licked down to her tits, overwhelmed with opportunity. Lick, suck, bite, leave marks? Harry wanted to do it all. “I’ll be so good f’you, beautiful. I promise.” He wrapped his lips around one hard nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking gently. His hands stayed on her tits, palming and squeezing them together as he moved between them, giving attention to both. A big supporter of equal loving, he was.

He moaned softly as her hand pressed his face harder against her chest, the soft flesh yielding under his mouth.  Opening his mouth wider, he took as much of her breast as he could fit, sucking and nibbling gently over the sensitive buds. His hand slid around to her back, pulling her closer almost desperately. More. He needed more. "Fuck," he mumbled against her nipple, the word muffled. "Perfect fucking tits."

“Tell me how beautiful I am.” She requested softly, pulling his mouth from her nipple with a handful of his pretty hair. “If you were so distracted by me before… You should have no problem doing that.”

"You're so fucking beautiful, Angel," he said without hesitation, his voice filled with genuine awe. "Like, breathtakingly beautiful. Those tits, that face, that fucking body..." He trailed off, shaking his head in wonder. "I don't know how you do it, but you're just... stunning." He reached up to touch her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "You're perfect. Please, let me kiss you," he begged, his eyes pleading with hers. "Just one real kiss, Angel. I need t’taste you, to feel your lips against mine."

 He leaned forward, his hands settling on her hips as he looked up at her with the clearest depiction of desperation she had ever seen. "I'll be your sweetheart, your good boy, just please... let me kiss you." He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her chin, hoping to wear her down. "Pretty please, beautiful."

“How cute.”’She cooed, tracing over his bottom lip. It was amusing to get men on their knees, to hear them plead and beg for her, but especially when said men looked like Harry. Buff and inked and otherwise looking like he’d be a complete dickhead she’d find at the gym, but so sweet just from his own desires. “Alright. Go ahead, since you asked so nicely.”

As soon as her fingers left his lip, he surged up to capture her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss. Trying his best to be gentle and sweet despite the overwhelming urge to devour her, it was harder to control himself than he’d ever remembered. He kept his hands on her hips, not daring to pull her closer or wrap his arms around her like he desperately wanted to. Breaking the kiss after a moment, he panted softly as he pulled back. "More? Can I have another?" He looked up at her with puppy eyes, already addicted to the taste of her lips.

The softness of it had surprised her, fully expecting him to be completely lost in it. If she was truthful, it only made her feel a little more fond of the man as he asked for another one, pleading almost with the luck he wanted to have. “You really are a sweet little puppy, aren’t you?” She murmured, stroking over his hair. “Want to keep kissing me that badly?”

"Yes, please," Nodding eagerly, he pleaded for it like he hadn’t before. "I want t’kiss you all day, Angel. I'll do anything, just let me keep kissing you." He rested his forehead against hers, clutching at her to keep as close as she allowed. "You taste so good, smell so good... I just can't get enough of you." He opened his eyes again, looking up at her with pure need. It was intoxicating for her, considering she hadn’t met anyone this down bad in her life. The power of it went straight to her cunt, giving her that telltale second heartbeat. 

"Yes, thank you." the words were cut off, already pressing his lips to hers again as soon as she nodded in the most respectful kiss he could manage. This time, he pulled her a little closer, one hand sliding up her back while the other cupped her jaw gently, letting his fingers curl around and hold her where he wanted her- just testing it out. His tongue barely ventured out, just a hint of it ghosting over her bottom lip as he explored her mouth cautiously. Every kiss felt like a privilege, a gift. "You," he broke away just long enough to speak, "shouldn't be this perfect."

“But I am.” She hummed against his mouth, leaning into him as she allowed his hands to hold her. It was strange to feel a possessive hold on her body and yet see such a needy look on a man’s face. The juxtaposition of it all. 

"Your lips are perfect," he mumbled against them, stealing another deep kiss. "So soft, so full..." He pulled back slightly to look at her face, "Your eyes are gorgeous, your nose is perfect, your jaw..." Cupping her jaw again, he angled it where he wanted it. "It's so pretty. Like you’re art, carved from marble or somethin’. I can’t even think straight.” It was hard to when she felt as good as she did. “Your neck." He leaned down to kiss her throat softly, "So smooth. Jus’ want t’bite."

She loved being worshipped, was the thing- And Harry was giving her the taste that she had wanted, completely submitting to her agenda without realizing he was filling the gap she had always wanted filled. It was precisely what she wanted actually, exactly what she needed, and the slight crazed look in his eyes had her cunt hot. “Mm… Thank you, good boy.” Gently running her fingers over his scalp, she felt his teeth graze her skin. “You getting mouthy, Puppy? Trying to bite?”

"Maybe..." he murmured, his teeth grazing her neck again as he tried to suppress a grin. He could feel her pulse quickening under his lips, taste the salt on her skin. His hands tightened slightly on her hips, thumbs rubbing small circles as he tried to restrain himself from outright biting her. "Is that a bad thing? Wanting to taste more of you?" His voice, low and husky, hinted at his building need, his cock twitching against his stomach. There was no hiding how affected he was by her.

“Not at all. Just didn’t know you liked to nibble on people, is all.” She took a handful of his hair, tugging him back with a heavy hand. “I like pain just as much as you do, seeing how much your cock is jumping just from a little tug of the hair. But you don’t have the right to bite me yet, so you have to wait.” Leaning down, she grabbed his cock back in her hand and spit over it again, stroking slow and tight.

Harry groaned, his head falling back as she tugged on his hair again and spoke in that stern, commanding tone that had him putty in her hands. "God you don’t even…. You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me." His cock jumped in her hand, the spit making it slick and easy for her to stroke. He felt a droplet of precum leak out, and he whimpered, his hips bucking slightly into her hand. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Jus’ wanna… Want to make you feel good, too.’

She smirked down at him, her eyes glinting with amusement and a hint of something darker. "Is that so?" she said, her voice low and sultry. She continued to stroke him slowly, her thumb swirling around the head of his cock, spreading the spit and precum around. Messy and sticky, just how she liked it. "And how, exactly, do you plan on making me feel good, hmm?" She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "With that big, thick cock of yours? Do you know how to use it properly?"

His entire body shivered at her whisper, his cock throbbing aggressively in her grip. "Yes," he managed to choke out, every ounce of control slipping away. "Would you let me?" He looked up at her with pleading eyes, a hint of vulnerability. "You're... god, you're making me crazy." His hips bucked into her hand again, desperate for more, more, more. Greediness was overwhelming. "Want to feel those perfect tits against me while I fuck you deep," he breathed, his eyes dark with the ever building lust. "Want to watch your gorgeous face while you cum on my cock. Feel your pussy clench around me, squeezing me so fucking tight, cause I know it will." His words were coming faster now, his restraint slipping. "Been hard imagining pounding into you all goddamn tattoo session. Want to pinch those perfect nipples while I do it, make you cry out-" He stopped abruptly, realizing he was rambling shamelessly. The mixture of his dominate side peeking out with the submissive. A true switch problem, feeling them both rearing their heads.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” She laughed in disbelief. “You’re showing just how filthy you’re gonna be. Thinking about fucking me this whole time? Getting a needle in your skin but you’re thinking about my pussy?” It was filthy, it was dirty, but he had the privilege. She was attracted to him unlike most people, and that awarded him the right. “Keep going then, tell me what you want.”

"Jesus, you really do love hearing me say this shit, don't you?" He asked, a hint of a desperate smile pulling at his lips. Reaching up to cup her breast with one hand, he plucked her nipple lightly between his fingers. "Want me to tell you how I'd fuck you so slow at first, let you feel every inch, but then pound the hell out of that perfect pussy when you beg for it?" His tone was stronger, less nervous as he spoke to her about his hidden desire. She’d been blunt with him, so he was only awarding her the same. 

"And when you're about to cum," he continued, his voice dropping lower, rougher, "I might just flip us over. Pin your wrists down and ride you hard enough to make those pretty tits bounce. Would you like that? Me being rough while I fuck you?" He squeezed her nipple harder, testing her reaction. The pretty noise she let out from the pinch let him know what he needed to know. She was just as much for it as he was. "Do you want a sweetheart who makes love to you slow, or a man who makes you scream?" His cock jerked in her hand, betraying his desire for either outcome.

“Think I want to be fucked hard. I haven’t screamed in quite a while. No one is able to do it.” The smirk on her face said it all, wanting to see just what he was capable of. How his voice had switched from nervous to confident, showing two very different sides of him? She had no idea. All she knew was she liked it. The duality of a man.

His expression morphed from pleading to predatory in an instant, his eyes glinting with a dark light. "You wanna be manhandled, then?" He purred, his hand sliding down from her breast to her hip, his fingers digging in as he took charge. “Alright then.” Standing up, he took initiative without another word- flipping her stance, pushing her over the bench and letting that perfect ass perch up in the air.

Harry was quick with it, calculated. Gripping her waistband in his fingers and tugging it down, exposing her bare body to him. No panties, nothing. Son of a bitch. She’d been sitting there with nothing on under the thin leggings this whole time? Unable to help himself, his hand came down on the soft flesh with a sharp smack to make his palm burn momentarily."Fuck, this ass, baby." he groaned, barely giving her a moment to realize what was happening before he slapped her ass again, harder this time. He admired the handprint appearing on her skin, wanting it to stay on there the entire night. It just looked too good to fade away.

Running his hand over the curve of her, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You wanted rough, beautiful. Hope you can handle it." His other hand slid around to her front, directly cupping her pussy. "Already fucking soaked, aren't you?"

“Of course I am.” She laughed breathlessly. “You’re being sweet and then tossing me around. Smacking my ass. Did you expect me to not react?” Turning her head back towards him, she gave him a little attitude. “Do something about it.”

"Such a fucking brat, even after you call me one." he muttered, grinning despite himself. His fingers slipped up and down her cunt, letting out a grunt as he found that how soaked she actually was. Filthy wet, a mess, and he’d been the cause. "Look at that mouth, keep panting like that..." He moved his finger to stroke her clit, quick and firm, causing her to gasp. "Should I stuff it with my cock until you gag? Would that shut you up?" His other hand smacked her ass again as he spoke, leaving another hot mark in his wake. His voice dropped lower, more smug. "Or do you want me to just fuck you? Hm? The choice is yours."

"Damn," she muttered, her body wracking with shivers as his fingers strummed over her clit expertly. He may act nervous, but he knew what to do with pussy. "You talk shit," she threw back at him, "Like you’d actually shut me up with that dick. I'd bite it off." She snarled as she wiggled her ass to provoke him. "And who said anything about choosing? You asked if I wanted you to stuff my mouth or just fuck me. Where's the option to ride your face or have you eat me out?" She smirked.

“Trust me, I plan on doing it all.” He smacked over her clit a few times, feeling her jolt. It was such a pleasure, having her so reactive underneath him. “I have no intentions of this being a one and done. Not when you’ve made such a fucking mess out of me.” She had no idea, did she? “All I wanted was t’get you to like me. Wanted to hang out with you. Made me so nervous.. and then you tell me you want to get me off? Think m’not gonna go crazy?”

Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. The woman really didn’t have a proper clue. He’d wanted to go about it the proper way but she’d been true to her fashion, blunt and to the point. “Got all nervous just tryin' to talk to you. Thought you'd eat me alive, professionally and literally." He chuckled darkly, giving her clit one last firm tap before withdrawing his hand. “Now, m’not so sure I’d mind. Think we’re gonna take turns doing it.”

She let out a breathy laugh at his words, her head falling forward as she relaxed back against the bench. "Oh, you're something else," she murmured, her voice tinged with amusement. "Crazy, nervous, sweet boy who wants to make me like him and then wants to take turns making me cum." She reached back, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him down by his scalp as he looked over her body. "Fuck, I think I'm starting to like you, Harry. But I think I’d like you more with my cunt wrapped around that pretty cock.”

His face split into a wide, predatory grin at her words, his eyes flashing dark with desire. "For fuck's sake," he muttered, nipping lightly at her throat where her neck met her shoulder. "Such a filthy mouth for such a pretty face." One hand slapped her ass again, trying to get the skin hot while the other moved to grip his cock, lining himself up with her entrance. Pressing the tip against her, he applied just enough pressure to make her feel the stretch but not entering yet. "You wanna know something, beautiful?" He didn’t wait for her response. “I’ve never been so obsessed with making a woman like me the first fuckin’ times I meet her," he admitted, his voice rasping as he fought to maintain control. "I've never wanted to please someone so badly that it hurts." Flexing his hips forward slightly, he teased her with the tip of his cock. "And I've never, ever been this hard in my entire life."

"Goddamn," she breathed out softly, arching her back slightly to push back against him. "You get all sweet, talking about being scared of pissing me off. Making me laugh. Getting nervous..." She wiggled her ass again, wanting more of him. Just the preview of the stretch made her want more. "And then you spank me and talk dirty." Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. "Do you even have a filter? Answer me one thing, Harry." She asked, making him tense slightly. "Are you this sweet and this filthy all the time? Or jus’ when you get horny from tattoos?”

He chuckled, his hot breath fanning over her shoulder. "Both," he answered honestly, his hands roamed over her greedily, wanting to get very well acquainted with her body. "M’always sweet, always a gentleman when I need t’ve... but I've always been filthy in the bedroom." He bit down gently on her shoulder, his hips bucking forward slightly again, catching the tip of his cock on her cunt again. "And tattoos make me extra horny, so... here's your answer," he continued, his hands spreading her cheeks apart slightly to get a better view.

 "Sweet and romantic most of the time. Dirty talker and versatile in bed." He pushed forward again, this time sliding just the tip inside her wet pussy. "Feeling you tattoo me… made me wanna throw you down and pound into you hard. Was willing to do anything you wanted if it meant feeling this… fuck, just look at that." He muttered, looking down in awe at where his body met hers, watching himself disappear slightly inside her. "No filter when I'm horny."

“Shit.” Y/N winced slightly at the stretch of him, feeling the tip pull back out before popping right back in again. It was the good kind of pain.  “Thought you’d only be a sweet little sub but… You like both?” She wanted to know more, impressed with the so-called ‘versatility’. He’d been so sweet, nearly shaking earlier when she had caught him hard and now he was teasing her poor cunt.

On how the tables have turned.

He grinned against her shoulder, the motion making his hips move again and sending another inch of his cock inside her. "Mhm," he hummed, his hands squeezing her ass. "I like being sweet and submissive, but I also love being dominant and in control." He pulled back again, letting her feel the stretch of just the tip before pushing in further. "It's all about the situation and who I'm with." He nipped at her skin again, his words punctuated by slow, teasing thrusts.

"I can be your cute little puppy one minute, begging for your kisses, your touch..." His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he held her steady. "And then flip the switch and fuck you into oblivion the next, depending on what you need." He slid deeper this time, groaning at the tight heat enveloping him. "So is that what you want, Angel? Want me to ruin this pretty pussy with my cock?"

She nodded, her arms relaxing by her sides as she spread her legs further apart, giving him an unobstructed view of her dripping cunt and his thick cock disappearing inside her. "Fuck, look at that," he breathed, his eyes glued to the sight as he pulled back until just the tip remained inside her.. With a low groan, he pushed forward, watching her stretch around him. “S’so pretty. Wish you could see how gorgeous she looks, opening up for me.”

Harry wasn't small by any means, and he was more than aware that his size was intense for most women. He gave another testing thrust, watching her body swallow him up inch by inch. "Goddamn," His voice dropped lower, almost concerned. "You good?" He could feel her stretching around him, her inner walls quivering as she adjusted to his size. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest as he tried to push deeper, trying his best to soothe her. "Talk t’me," he rasped, pressing his lips against her shoulder. "You okay, sweetheart?" He flexed his hips forward again, burying another inch inside her. 

Was it a bit contradictory? Yes. It was. But he knew she liked it- he could feel it, hear it in her little sighs. One thing he would give himself was that he was an observant lover. Her pleasure was above his own and he was paying attention to every shift in her. If she wasn’t loving it, he wouldn’t continue. 

She let out a long, shaky breath, her head falling back onto his shoulder as she felt the stretch with each movement. "Fuck... it's been a while," she admitted, her voice strained. "You're really big." Her nails dug into his forearms as she tried to relax her body, to let herself open up for him. "I'm okay... just give me a second to... fucking... adjust." She hissed, wiggling her hips slightly, testing the feel of him inside her.

He felt her inner muscles clench and unclench around him as she adjusted, her body struggling to accommodate his size. He could see the stretch marks on her inner thighs, the way her pussy lips were spread wide around his thick shaft. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to slam forward and bury himself to the hilt. Instead, he held still, his fingers digging into her hips as he waited for her signal. "You look so fucking pretty like this, baby. Unreal." he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

“Thank you, puppy.” She tried, cooing the best she could as she relaxed her top half over the bench as he adjusted her back down. “There’s that sweetness.”

"Still trying to earn more brownie points with you." he teased lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder blade as his hand trailed up to brush her falling ponytail away from her skin. "Thought I might've ruined that when I spanked you." His hips gave her a little more, burying himself a tiny bit deeper just to feel her twitch around him.

"Mm?" She hummed softly, her body relaxing more around him. He could see the muscles in her back moving fluidly as she tested the stretch again, spreading her legs wider. He almost whimpered at the view - his thick length disappearing inside her slicked up, puffy lips. "This is all I wanted, baby. Wanted to be real fuckin’ nice to you. You think I’m being nice enough yet?” He tested softly, his voice dropping back to that sweet, almost innocent level..

"You're being a good boy," The reply came softly as she arching her back just a bit. "Sweet talking me one minute, spanking my ass and spreading me open the next. Making me take this cock inside me..." Moaning softly as he widened her thighs, he gave himself better access. "You're definitely being nice." 

He grinned mischievously, his fingers splaying wide over her inner thighs. "Yeah, you like that, Angel?" He cooed, his sweet demeanor belied by the way he was positioning her body. "You like me being sweet while I make you take all this?" Pushing his hips forward again, he pushed the final inch inside her. "You think I’m being gentle enough? Or do y’need something more?"

She moaned again, his words driving her wild as he forced her legs higher. "You're being more than fucking gentle," she panted out, her inner muscles convulsing around him. She shivered, reaching back to grab at him. "Less asking if I like it, more show me how you fuck when you're being sweet." 

"Yes ma'a." Harry echoed obediently, the same smirk playing at his lips as he pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the tip inside her before sliding back in with exaggerated slowness, letting her feel every thick inch keeping her open. He maintained that maddeningly gentle pace, his hips rolling against hers in smooth, controlled thrusts that hit deep but never rushed. “Such a perfect cunt. Christ.”

He peppered her neck with soft, open-mouthed kisses as he continued his slow, deep thrusts, his large hands keeping her right where he wanted her. "This is what you needed t’get you to talk to me, huh? Jus’ needed a thick cock t’fill you up. Didn’t need to be nervous… just needed to give the pretty Angel what she wanted." He murmured against her skin, his voice dripping with fake innocence "I think you’re ready for more." 

"Damn it, you're playing with me," She gasped out, her nails digging into his thigh as she pushed back eagerly onto his cock. "Sweet talk me more like that while you fuck me harder." She purred, her head tilting to give him better access to her neck. "Wanted to shut up that nervous rambling with my pussy, huh? Gave you somethin' better to put your mouth on than words."

"Mmhmm, exactly," he hummed softly, his large hands tightening on her thighs as he continued his slow, rolling thrusts. "Shutting me up real nice with this pretty, squeezing little hole, isn't it?" He sighed against her throat, his hot breath tickling her skin as he spoke. "You’re so pretty, sweetheart. So fuckin’ hot around this cock." He flexed his hips forward, burying yet another thick inch inside her.

"Want more, Angel?" he murmured teasingly, barely moving inside her. "Need me to fuck this greedy little pussy harder?" He punctuated his words with a sharp, quick thrust before returning to his torturously slow pace.

She snapped at him, her voice tight with lustful irritation. "Shut up and fuck me, Harry! Stop teasing and put your money where your mouth is." Her demand was abrupt and harsh, contrasting sharply with the sweet way she'd been talking to him moments before. Harry chuckled darkly as he finally gave in to her demand. Her wish was his command.

He snapped his hips forward abruptly, finally giving her a taste of his full length and girth as he buried himself to the hilt inside her. "Like that, you greedy little thing?" he growled as he began to thrust harder and deeper, filling her completely with each stroke. "You want me to ruin this perfect little hole?" He snarled, his voice laced with a matched aggression as he fucked into into her.

“God, yes. Finally.” She moaned, loving the sting she felt from his cock filling her. It wasn’t the easiest to take and it had been a while but it fit her so well, she knew she needed more. He’d done a decent job getting her worked up, and she needed him to do what he promised now.. “Shut up and fuck me.”

"Christ, baby. Okay. I’ll- I’ll give you anything y’need." he groaned, finally letting go of that last bit of control. His thick length slammed into her again and again, each thrust harder than the last.  One hand moved to her hip, holding her steady as he fucked into her, the sound of their bodies meeting echoing through the room.

The wet slapping of skin against skin filled the air, punctuated by his guttural groans and her own breathy cries. His thick cock slid in and out of her soaking wet pussy with ease, the sound of her coating his dick and making each thrust slick and, frankly,  obscene. It was lewd and hot and he knew that he was living a damn dream. Harry's own moans grew louder, more primal, as he lost himself in the sensation of her tight heat surrounding him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, his voice ragged with pleasure. “Pussy is so fuckin’ good, baby. I can’t… you’re too good.”

Leaning over her body, his face pressed against her shoulders as he kissed and bit at her skin, seeking comfort and reassurance even as he ruthlessly fucked her. His hands moved from her hips to wrap underneath her, around her waist to hold her in place as he buried himself inside her over and over, his movements becoming less controlled and more desperate.

“There you go, puppy.” her voice was strained as her knees wobbled, clutching onto the bench and his thigh as he filled her right up. He was wrapped all around her, kissing and whimpering into her skin. “Shutting up and giving me that perfect cock. Just like you should.”

"Mmm..." The endearment of 'puppy' combined with her nails dragging across his skin made him whimper softly. His hips stuttered as he continued to fuck her deeply and smoothly, submitting to her praise as his mouth sought more skin to taste. "Makin’  me feel so good, Angel... d’you? Want you to feel so good too..." He was fully reduced to sweet, submissive whispers now, in stark contrast to his intense pace.

"You asked for sweet..." His voice dropped lower, almost shyly. "You like this better? Me being all nice while I pound your cunt?" He spread her thighs wider as he adjusted, changing the angle slightly to make himself go even deeper.

She let out a long, low moan at the new angle, her inner walls clenching around him tightly. "Fuck, yes... just like that, puppy." Her voice was husky with pleasure, her nails digging into his thigh hard enough to leave marks. "You're being so good for me, taking care of me so well with this perfect dick." She pushed her ass back against him, meeting his thrusts eagerly. "Keep talking to me like that, keep being my good boy while you fuck me."

Harry's breathing was labored as she praised him, his cock throbbing inside her. Pressing open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder and neck, he wasn’t able to shut the hell up. "You like hearing me talk like this? Your good boy, fucking you so deep and hard..." His fingers found her clit, circling it slowly as he continued to thrust. He needed to see her face as he did this. As much as he liked taking her bent over- he wanted to watch her face when she came apart on his cock.  

Ignoring her whine when he pulled out for a moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her effortlessly and flipping her over onto her back. Adjusting her so she was laying stead, he stepped between her spread thighs  as he lowered himself back inside her. He wanted to see her face, to watch her expressions as he continued to fill her with his thick length. "Look at me," he whispered softly, his voice laced with submission as he began to thrust again, "I want to see your pretty face while I'm being a good boy and giving you this….cock," he finished, his hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt inside her again. 

His eyes locked onto hers, drinking in the sight of her flustered face, her lips parted in a silent cry, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "So fucking pretty," he breathed, his hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as he began to fuck her with renewed vigor, his thrusts hard and deep. "Look at me, Angel. Look at your good boy while I make y’feel good."

He worshipped her with his eyes as he continued to fuck into her, filling her up again and again. He brushed his nose against hers, breathing her breaths in as he whispered soft, submissive words against her lips. "You're so pretty... so perfect... you deserve this... you deserve me being your good boy and giving you everything you want..." He moaned softly, his hips rolling forward to brush spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. "You like that?"

Her back arched off the bench, her hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders as he hit it again. "Fuck, yes.” she cried out, her voice echoing through the room as she shuddered beneath him. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop, don't you dare stop fucking me." She bucked her hips up to meet his thrusts, desperate to keep that thick length buried inside her as he rubbed against her g-spot in the way he knew she needed.

His face broke out into a blissed-out, adoring smile as he felt her clench around him, her cries of pleasure music to his ears. Harry was determined to make her feel the best she ever had, to see her lose control and shatter beneath him. "Gonna make you cum, Angel... gonna make you cum so hard on my cock… tell me what you need." He’d do anything. 

"Choke me," she panted out, her eyes wild with desire as she stared up at him. "Choke me while you fuck me, puppy. Show me who’s making me feel good." Her hands reached up to grip his wrists, guiding his hands to wrap around her throat. "Squeeze... please... I need to feel your hands on my neck while you fuck me..." She didn't even finish the sentence before he complied, his large hands wrapping around her delicate throat and squeezing lightly. “Yeah, like that.” 

His large hands tightened around her throat obediently, squeezing just enough to feel her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he groaned softly, letting her hear how it made him feel. “Look perfect with my hand around your neck… Makes me want t’cum so badly..” His hips slammed forward, burying himself impossibly deep as his fingers pressed slightly harder against her windpipe. 

His other hand slid down to her clit, rubbing swift circles as he felt her walls flutter around him. "Come on, Angel... fucking squeeze me. Show me how good it feels. I can feel you tryin’ to milk my damn cock.”   Harry could actually feel tears well up in his eyes as the intense pleasure of her tightening cunt mixed with the sight of his hands around her throat.

 Her nails dragging over his wrists sent electric shocks straight to his cock, making him thrust deeper and faster. "So fucking beautiful... gonna cum so hard if you keep squeezing my dick like that..." His hold on her throat tightened slightly more as his cock pulsed inside her. 

She giggled deliriously, her body shaking beneath his as she felt him losing control around her throat. "You gonna fill me up while you choke me?" She pushed up against him with her hips, making him hit that spot again and making her hiccup. "Come on, Puppy... c’mon, you look so sad with those tear-filled eyes... You gonna make a mess in your good girl or not? Give it to me.” She hissed, almost demanding it. “I want it. Show me.”

Harry really couldn’t help it. Her words pushed him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep and let out a low, guttural moan. "F-fuck... Angel..." he choked out, his fingers tightening around her throat as he came hard, his cock pulsing and filling her with his hot cum. Tears spilled over his cheeks as he shook and trembled above her, completely undone by her words and the intensity of the moment. "So good, baby it’s… so fucking good..." he was babbling a bit, but he couldn’t control it. She’d nearly fucked him dumb.

"It’s so hot…” feeling his load inside of her only made it harder to keep it together. There was nothing more arousing than a man losing it inside of her, unable to wait. “Keep going, just-," she panted out, her body still shaking. "Don't stop, puppy. Keep fucking me and choking me until I cum." Her nails dug into his wrists, holding his hands in place as she arched her back and pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts. "I need it... need to cum so badly... keep going, good boy... make your Angel cum all over you." 

Her makeup was ruined, her eyeliner smeared and running down her cheeks as she laughed and begged him to keep going. Her hair was a mess, sticks and strands clinging to the sweat-damped skin on her face. Y/N knew she looked utterly wrecked, completely lost in the moment as she rode out the intense pleasure he was giving her, and she didn’t care. Her nails scraped against his wrists, leaving red marks as she held his hands in place, keeping his hand choking her as he listened to her. "Don't stop... don't you dare stop.”

"Jesus..." he gasped, his over-sensitive cock still leaking cum inside her as he continued to thrust, dedicated to her demands. He could feel his messy cum leaking out around his length each time he pulled back, creating a wet, lewd sound that only turned him on more. "Look at you... so messy... cum all over your pretty pussy..." He leaned down to kiss her swollen lips, groaning as his hips moved automatically, fucking her deeply. It was intense and he felt the over sensitivity but the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her.  "God, you're fucking destroying me..." The whimper was hoarse, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her again and again. 

Her inner walls clenched around him, drawing out another desperate moan from him as he felt her getting close. "Cum baby, cum all over me..." He adjusted the angle slightly, pressing harder against that spot, knowing it would send her over the edge. "You're gonna squirt all over me, aren't you? I want you to give it t’me" He tightened his hold on her throat, hoping that extra pressure would help push her over.

His nose pressed against hers, his breath mingling with hers once again as he begged her to cum. "Please, Angel... please cum for me... squirt all over my cock and make a mess of me with your cum..." His voice was raw and desperate, his hips moving in deliberate, deep thrusts as he held her throat and fucked her with precise, calculated movements designed to make her lose control. "I need to see it, baby... need to feel you cumming all over me..." She was right there. He could feel her pulsing around him, bruising up to it. Taking her bottom lip, he bit down. 

She choked out a loud moan mixed with a scream as she finally gave in, her body convulsing around his over-sensitive dick. She yanked his hair hard and pulled her throbbing lip from his teeth, arching her back and pushing her hips up to meet his thrusts as she let go, squirting hot and sticky all over his lower abdomen and balls. "Fuck, yes... yes... that’s a good girl!" He praised hoarsely, his fingers flexing around her throat to ease up as he felt her clenching around him. "There you go, baby. Jus’ like that..."

He slowly stilled his movements, still buried deep inside her as he reached up to gently wipe away the smeared makeup from her cheeks as she went through the last of it. "So fucking beautiful," he cooed softly, his thumb brushing over her tear stained skin. "Perfect, messy little Angel..." He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, his other hand resting on her throat without any pressure. "You did so good, baby... took me well." He praised her warmly, his voice filled with the satisfaction he felt.

This was the last place he had realistically thought he would end up today, but it’s his favorite place he’d been in a while.

"Mmm..." Y/N let out a happy, delirious giggle as she wrapped her legs around him, keeping him buried inside her. His forehead rested against hers as they both caught their breath, sharing the same dream, fucked out smile. 

"Look at us..." he laughed softly, one hand still gently stroking her throat while the other traced patterns on her overheated skin. "Messy makeup, sweaty skin..." He wiggled his hips slightly, making them both giggle. "Both fucking destroyed...

"You're like a wet dream," she giggled softly, her legs tightening around him, making them both let out noises. "One minute you're spanking my ass and being all dominant, next you're choking me and being my sweet little puppy..." She nuzzled his nose with hers, laughing softly. "And now you're all gentle and touchy like you didn't just make me squirt everywhere..."

"Well, I think I’m multidimensional." He hummed softly, his forehead resting against hers as he listened to her breathe. "You're on the pill, right?" He asked suddenly, his voice curious. "Not that I'm complaining about not pulling out-but I wanna know if I can just..." He wiggled his hips slightly, making her hiss. "You know... stay inside you all the time..." He blushed softly, burying his face in her neck.

“Mhm.” She replied, stroking through his sweaty hair. “You can relax. M’fine.” It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to go at it raw but… prevailing circumstances. She didn’t regret it. “M’gonna have to sanitize the fuck out of this place now. I still have t’finish your linework”  "Mhm..." He murmured happily, leaning into her touch as her fingers played with his sweaty hair. "Fuck, I'm glad." Pressing a small kiss to her throat, he relaxed a little. "My brains still scrambled from that orgasm, if m’honest..." He flexed his hips gently, making them both shiver. "But you know what?" He looked up at her with those sweet, vulnerable eyes. "I'll behave real nice while you finish my lines. No squirming..." He grinned innocently. "Promise."

[backtothefanfiction]

Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader | Grumpy x Sunshine

Summary: Joaquin and Sam take a trip to the Stark cabin to get something fixed on Joaquin’s suit.

Warnings: fluff, grief, angst, banter

Word Count: 2.6k+

A/N: Okay so I this is based on an ask that came through my inbox. I did make a couple adjustments, but over all the bones are the same. Hope people enjoy!

Joaquin always felt awkward when Sam dragged him out to the Stark cabin for a fix on their suits. Although he had never met Tony Stark himself, the Avenger was someone everyone knew and his loss was still felt all around the world. But the Stark cabin always felt like the nucleus of that grief. More importantly, the shed out back.

"I'm gonna head in and say hey to Pepper," Sam said as they made their way side by side down the path through the woods that lead to the old hunting cabin that had been turned into the Stark's main home during the blip.

"Okay, well I'm gonna- head-" Joaquin's voice trailed off as Sam made a left and began to head up the stairs to the front door, suddenly leaving him on his own, "to- the- uh shed I guess," he muttered to himself much quieter, looking between the cabin and the shed where he knew you would be.

He hesitated at the door to the shed. He knew you'd be in there, you practically lived in there since your Dad died. He knew it was bad for you to isolate yourself the way you did, throwing yourself into continuing his work as a way to manage your grief, but he also felt like he was invading your sanctuary whenever he stopped by.

"YO, FEATHERS! YOU GONNA STAND OUT THERE ALL DAY OR YOU GONNA COME IN!" Your voice called out to him and he took that as his queue to enter.

"How did you know I was out there?" he asked as he strutted in, his eyes scanning the space as he sought you out amongst the converted lab you and your Dad had built together during the blip. The two of you hadn't been too close before then, your Mom wanting you to keep your distance from the man she had accidentally conceived a child with during a drunken one night stand in her 20s, but when she became a victim of Thanos and the blip, you had no choice but to seek refuge with him.

"Cameras," you said, lifting a tablet in the air that showed a video feed of the front door and Joaquin used it as a marker to find you amongst the mess.

"You know I don't have feathers right?" he said as he approached the bench where you were huddled over a piece of tech, a soldering iron in hand as you fused different components together.

"And you two could literally go to anyone else at Stark Industries to fix your suites and yet, here you are." you said sarcastically as you finally met his eyes.

Joaquin took one look at the dark circles under your eyes and his heart ached. He hated to see you like this. He had developed a crush on you the first time he had met you. It was a couple years ago now. He had been brought in with Sam and Bucky for the debrief with Colonel Rhodes after the incident with the flag smashers. You had stopped by to have dinner with your Father's old best friend, turning up in a red floral sun dress and denim jacket and he had instantly fallen in love- not that he'd ever had the balls to tell you.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” Joaquin stated, his voice soft, but you hated the tone of pity that accompanied it. It was coming up to the anniversary of your Father's death and your dreams had been plagued with flash backs to the battle where you had watched him lose his life.

“Well thanks Captain Obvious.” you snapped at him resentfully.

As long as he'd known you, Joaquin knew your usual jaded demeanour and hostility was due to your inability to deal with your grief over your Dad, but he also knew this extra spiciness to your tone was due to the aforementioned lack of sleep. “You know I was never actually a captain.” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't help.

“Okay, then Lieutenant Obvious. Better?” You sassed as you forcefully turned him around to get to the access panel on the back of the wings.

“Remind me again why you’ve got to do this with the suit on me.”

“It’s so you can fly away the second I’m done and stop- annoying-me,” you grunted as you popped the panel. “Uuuhgg, this is a mess. Who the hell has been fiddling with this thing?” you asked, taking in the hazard of wires and switch boards inside.

“The US governement.” Joaquin laughed.

“That sounds about right," you gritted as you took your soldering iron from before and began adjusting and readjusting wires.

As you worked, Joaquin took a moment to look around the room again. There were empty cups, mugs and plates discarded in different places as you had refuelled on the go. The sofa in the corner had a blanket haphazardly draped across it, implying that when you had been sleeping, it had been in here and not in the house with Pepper and your half sister Morgan. It broke his heart.

"Y/N-" he said your name tentatively, wanting to broach the subject and help, but also not wanting you to completely shut down and shut him out and hate him forever.

"Don't." you said, reading his mind without having to look directly at his face as you focused on your current job. "There," you sighed, "try that." you said as you closed the panel again and sat back.

Joaquin turned around, shifting in his suit, his arms lifting as he prepared to let loose the wings at his back. "NOT IN HERE MORON!" you quickly said, fear rippling through you at the thought of the nano tech wings unfolding at his back and smashing into the machinery set up around the two of you. "Take it outside."

"Uh, yeah. Right." Joaquin stuttered nervously as he realised his mistake.

You reluctantly followed him outside for his test flight and was met with the sight of your younger sister running down the steps of the cabin and over to you both. "JOAQUIN!" the young girl beamed, taking him in. She for sure had a little school girl crush on him. And to be fair, you couldn’t blame her, he was good looking, you just weren’t interested in anything right now.

"Hey Kiddo!" he said, embracing her as she ran into his arms to greet him with a hug. "Your sister's just fixed my wing up. Wanna see?"

"Yeah! Of course!" she beamed and the way she smiled made you see all of the same awe and wonder in her eyes as your Father used to have. The look sent a new wave of grief to hit you and you had to turn away from her for a moment to compose yourself. It was so quick you had hoped neither of them had noticed, but when you looked back to Joaquin, it was clear to you he had.

"Well, go on then. Get this over with so I can go back to work." you said, folding your arms across your chest as you encouraged him to let his wings free.

His eyes seemed to linger on you for a moment, trying to find a way to penetrate your armour before he finally conceded. There was a click and a rippling schwing of metal as his wings unfurled seamlessly at his back, shorter at first, but then he pressed another button in the gloves of his suit and the nanobots shifted and extended the wings down to make them larger.

"Oooooooh," Morgan cooed in wonder as she took them in.

"Come on then feathers, you gonna fly or what?" you encouraged him. He sighed in your direction, but ultimately activated his helmet and thrusters and dramatically blasted off from the floor at such a force you and Morgan had to steady yourselves as you were hit with a blast of air.

You both watched from the ground as he began to do a sweep around the property, Morgan running down to the lakes edge to watch him closer as he dipped down to run a finger through the water as he glided above it. You stood there for another minute, watching to make sure there weren't any more problems, but when he started to show off, doing barrel rolls through the air to impress Morgan, you knew it was your cue to return to your work.

“You know, you should be a lot nicer to him,” Pepper’s voice startled you. You hadn’t noticed her when you first came in, but at the sound of her voice, you quickly found her collecting up some of your plates and mugs, ready to take them back into the cabin.

You didn’t respond to her, your body turning back to your work as you pretended like she wasn’t there. You didn’t want the lecture right now. Although she had married your Father and had technically become your step mom, not to mention she was your half sister’s actual mother, Pepper had always felt more like an Aunt to you. She had all the same maternal energy and instincts towards you, but she was more approachable like a friend.

“You know, I invited them to stay for dinner,” she said as she came up beside you. “We’re having cheeseburgers, in honour of your Dad.” she continued, trying to get any sort of reaction out of you, but you weren’t biting. “You know,” she said, after another pause, deciding to change tac, “I think he likes you.”

“What makes you say that?” you said instinctively and you instantly kicked yourself for responding, but you could feel the swell of pride coming off Pepper as she realised she had gotten you to break.

“Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she said wistfully, her eyes looking out the open doorway towards the sounds of her daughter’s giggles as she played with Joaquin. “And no matter how mean you are to him, he keeps coming back.”

“Is that what happened with you and my Dad?” You asked, fishing for information about the origins of their relationship.

“Not quite. Me and your Dad were… a little more complicated. Your dad was always a lone wolf, but he,” she said, her gaze moving to the man outside again, “he’s more of a golden retriever. He may be a bit goofy and over enthusiastic at times,” she said, before turning her attention back to you, “but he’s loyal. And he knows how to have fun,” she stressed as she nudged your shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the way you needed to take a break from your Father’s legacy and just learn to let loose again.

You went back to giving her the silent treatment as she shifted the cups and plates in her hands again and went to leave. But as she reached the door, the small voice in the back of your head (you often liked to think was actually your Father living rent free in your brain), told you she was right.

“Pepper!” you called out to stop her. “Thanks.” you said, giving her the first smile that had graced your face all week. She didn’t say anything more back, just gave you an equally fond smile of acknowledgment. After all, Pepper Potts knew she had already said everything she needed to, to finally get you back out of the shed.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Nearly two hours later, you finally made your way up to the cabin for dinner. The sound of laughter and the sizzling sounds and smell of the burgers was almost overwhelming after spending a week alone out in the shed, but you quickly shook it off. Both Sam and Joaquin turned their heads at the sound of the door, but quickly became distracted again by your sister. She was stood in the middle of the living room giving a rather animated account to them of an incident that had happened to her at school. You couldn’t help but smile at the way she captivated them as you snuck through the house to the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” you quietly asked.

Pepper turned and gave you a smile. You watched as her eyes scanned you. You had changed since she had left you and even taken the time to run a brush through your hair. You could tell there was something hidden in her gaze, knew she was eager to tease you over it, but she quickly dropped it, not wanting to scare you off after finally being able to coax you back in.

“I’m almost done,” she said, “the burgers will just be another minute or two. Why don’t you lay up the table, ready for everyone.”

You didn’t give her a verbal response, instead headed straight to the draw to retrieve the cutlery and placemats. “Let me help you with that.” Joaquin’s voice came from behind you. You turned your head with a start. You hadn’t even heard him follow you in.

“Uh, thanks,” you said quietly as he took the handful of cutlery from you and followed you to the dining table.

You were both silent as you began to put down the placemats, Joaquin following close behind you and laying down the cutlery. When you had finished that, he followed you back to the kitchen to help carry in the salad and condiments, which you laid out in the middle of the table so people could help themselves.

“I’m sorry- uh I mean, earlier, this afternoon. Thank you for uh,” Your voice froze. Gosh this was awful. You desperately wanted to bridge the gap you had placed between the two of you, but you didn’t know how. “I’m sorry I was a dick!” you finally blurted out.

He let out a little snicker at your outburst, but quickly schooled his features, knowing you were trying to have a serious conversation. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I know, it just… I know I can be a bit…”

“Hostile?” He said, filling in the word you were struggling with.

“Yeah. Hostile.” you repeated.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t mean it. It’s not easy losing a parent. It’s not easy losing anyone.” he corrected himself. “Grief makes us do odd things sometimes. Just know that you’re not alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” your repeated.

“I’m here for you. Come rain or shine. Night or day. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

“I know,” you sighed, your head hanging, almost in shame. “I’ve just… never really been that good at asking for…”

“Help?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Look,” he said, and you watched at he reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a bit of paper with his number on it. You hated to think how long he’d had it sat in there just waiting for the right moment to give it to you. “This is my number. Call me whenever.”

You took it from him and couldn’t help the small smile that danced on your lips as your fingers played with the piece of paper you had been handed. “Even in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep?” you asked him, both earnestly, but with a hint of suggestiveness you hoped he’d pick up on.

He was silent a moment as he analysed you. Wanting to check and make sure you had meant to imply what you had. When he realised you had, he hung his head in an attempt to hide the blush in his cheeks and the shit eating grin that adorned his face. “Yeah,” he sighed, finally looking back up across the table at you, an entirely new kind of tension between you now, “especially then,” he said and you knew that was one offer of help you were never going to turn down.

[luvst4rc0r3]

"The Unexpected Couple"

Loser!Jinx x Reader

Nobody saw it coming. Nobody.

It was like one day, Jinx was just the chaotic loser that everyone tolerated at best—and the next? She was dating you. You. The person everyone actually liked, the one who had their life together, the one who could walk into a room and make people listen.

People thought it was a joke at first. A prank. Some kind of elaborate bet. But then they saw the way Jinx looked at you—like you were the sun and she was just some dumb little planet orbiting around you, completely at your mercy.

And the way you looked at her? Yeah. You were just as gone.

People’s Reactions:

Vi:

“Are you being blackmailed? Blink twice if you need help.”

She genuinely cannot wrap her head around it. Jinx, her loser little sister, who once ate an entire bag of uncooked pasta for fun, is somehow dating you? She thought it was fake until she saw you casually kiss Jinx on the cheek one day.

She short-circuited. Nearly dropped her protein shake. Stared at Jinx for a solid ten seconds before going,

“WHAT. THE. HELL.”

Sevika:

Doesn’t care much, but when she sees you cuddling up to Jinx at lunch, she just takes a long sip of her drink and mutters,

“This timeline is broken.”

Your Friends:

“Be honest. Did you lose a bet?”

“Are you okay? Like… mentally?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LIKE HER?”

It’s not that they hate Jinx—it’s just that she’s Jinx. She forgets homework exists and once tried to teach a pigeon how to skateboard.

You just laugh and say, “Yeah, but she’s my idiot.”

And then Jinx, who overheard the whole thing, proceeds to melt into a puddle of emotions.

 Your Teachers:

Your math teacher literally pulled you aside one day like,

“You’re such a bright student. Don’t let… distractions ruin your potential.”

Meanwhile, Jinx is in the background, chewing on a pen, 100% unaware that she’s the distraction in question.

Your Relationship in School:

PDA? Oh yeah. Jinx never cared about being subtle in the first place, but now that she has you? She’s insufferable. Walks you to class even though she’s late for her own. Steals your hoodies and wears them oversized because, “They smell like you.” Leaves dumb doodles in your notebooks (half of them are just little hearts with your name in them). Jinx is constantly showing off. And by “showing off,” I mean doing the dumbest, most reckless stunts imaginable. If there’s a terrible idea, she’s already doing it before you can stop her.

Jinx: “Bet I can jump from this stairwell and land perfectly.”

You: “Jinx, no—”

Jinx: [proceeds to fall flat on her face]

You: “Oh my god.”

And yet, you’re always the first one helping her up, laughing as you brush off the dirt from her hoodie.

She falls harder every time.

She thrives off making you blush. For someone who is usually a mess, Jinx is unexpectedly bold when it comes to flirting.

One day, you’re minding your own business when she leans in and whispers, “You look really good today.”

You turn red. She grins like she just won the lottery.

“I make you nervous, don’t I?”

She does. She really, really does.

Nobody gets how you put up with her. She’s always late, never does her homework, and is basically a human raccoon. But when she falls asleep in your lap during study hall, drooling on your sweater, you just shake your head and pull her closer.

Because yeah, she’s a disaster. But she’s your disaster.

MAN IM JUST TRYING TO LOAD ALL OF MY DRAFTS

I want food and sleep

[dcxdpdabbles]

For The next part of freelance inventor, you should do more parent trapping(if you want, of course) I was just picturing cartoon level schemes trying to get these two to kiss.

On the flipside, what would happen if the two of them had a fight? I can see the kids and Alfred just kind of trying to make Bruce agree how wrong he was.

"Bruce?"

His heart stops at the sound of that voice, and then it speeds up before he can look over his shoulder. Not that he needs to. He already knows who called out to him.

Only one person in the world adds a certain ring to his name when they speak it.

Bruce turns away from his laptop, displaying some spreadsheets of the upcoming term, coming face to face with Danny Fenton's beaming smile. Behind him, the ocean gleams like liquid sapphire, highlighting the brightness and warmth in Danny's aqua-blue eyes.

He once thought Danny wasn't human; surely, no human could have eyes like those. The sunlight bounces off the dark of his hair, swaying in the breeze, and it somehow calls attention to the laughing lines around his eyes and mouth.

He's shirtless, showing off a physique that would fit a swimmer. His black swimming shorts are covered in the NASA symbol, which is such a Danny thing to do that it makes Bruce's heart skip a beat.

It's odd. As one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world, Bruce had always been surrounded by gorgeous people. Usually, women and men flung themselves at him, whispering false claims of eternal love while displaying teasing hints of the bodies. It was a tool they wielded to charm him into doing what they wanted, but none of them could even compare to Danny's looks.

Perhaps it was due to how effortlessly beautiful Danny was. He didn't spend hours and hours on his looks. Bruce had heard people claim the inventor was plain, but he could never see it.

Bruce had always thought he was pretty from the moment Dick wandered to his table. The gentleness with which he spoke to his then nine-year-old son with respect and full attention as he explained his first intention- the portable charger. How could anyone not be memorized by him?

"Danny? What are you doing here?" He asks after realizing he is gawking like a fool.

His friend's eyes crinkle further as he laughs. "On vacation. Jay and Dick told me about this place, and since I had a conference on the island, I thought I would spend my off time at the private huts. What about you?"

Oh, those little rats. This was all a setup. He should have known something was up when they all forced him to accept it.

"The kids bought me a private hut for a weekend." He answers, moving his eyes away from Danny's lips with great effort. "They said it was a gift and a means to follow my doctor's orders."

"Dami told me about that. The doctor said you have been putting too much stress on your heart, and yet, here you are, working on vacation." Danny planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock pity. "I bet you haven't even frolicked through a field of flowers or jumped over waves since you arrived."

Bruce feels a burst of amusement and slight anticipation tickle the bottom of his stomach. "Well, I just don't know how to do any of that."

"Since we're hut neighbors, I could show you how to have fun. You rich people know what that is, right? Fun?" Danny asks, reaching down to grip Bruce's wrist. Where he touches, tringles of flames light up his skin, and Bruce fights to keep the blush off his face. "I suppose you don't. The first lesson must be how to frolic through the ocean waves, and it starts right now!"

"I thought it was a field of flowers?" He laughs, allowing the shorter man to pull him toward the blue water.

"It's a hybrid course, Bruce," Danny laughs, splashing through the first wave until they are waist-deep and spinning around to grin at him. Bruce practically swallows his own tongue as the man shines in the sunlight, with a beaming soft smile that makes him feel like the only man in the world. "Prepare for the best weekend of your life. No kids. No work. Just us, the ocean, and some tasty meals!"

"That sounds like heaven," Bruce tells him, wondering if Danny can tell how soft his eyes have become or the yearning in his voice. He just knows somewhere in Gotham, all his children are high-fiving each other and scheming up another ill-fated attempt to get Bruce with the man of his dreams.

It's not that he's unaware of their goals. But over ten years after he'd known Danny, silently pinning for him, Bruce realized it would never happen. His friend didn't feel attraction like that.

If Bruce had told him how he felt, he would have lost Danny forever. He would rather live with this buckling longing for the rest of his life if it meant he could be gifted with Danny's friendly smiles and presence.

Danny reaches back, cupping his hands to gather water and splashing Bruce with a gleeful "What are you standing around for? Come! Frolic!"

Bruce grins, throwing back some water in a bigger splash as the young man screams, attempting to escape. He follows close behind, trying to drown the other between gasps of laughter. For a brief moment, he allows himself to live a fantasy life where this was a real romantic getaway, not a setup by his less-than-subtle children.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fine! Be that way! Excuse me for having a fucking opinion!" Danny hisses, swinging around and stomping out of the room. Bruce's chest feels hot with anger; the angry words that had fallen from his mouth taste bitter and satisfying simultaneously. It's a whirlwind of contradicting emotions that he does nothing when the other man slams the door behind him.

He slams his hands over his eyes, willing himself to calm down but it's hard when Danny is the one who set him off. Danny is the only one in the world that made him feel everything like an explosion.

Both the positive and negative emotions.

How did things come to this? The conversation was going well until the two started talking about the Joker. He's always known his friend had a less white and dark point of view regarding the clown, but to actively claim that Batman was a coward for not killing him when he had the chance?

Yes, Danny didn't know Bruce was Batman, so when he tried to explain that the superhero was afraid that if he started taking lives, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop Danny had grown dismissive. It wasn't meant to attack Bruce, but he knows that logically.

But it still felt like the man he was in love with was calling him a coward straight to his face, and Bruce grew defensive. He tends to lash out when he's on the defense, and before long, the two were in a heated debate about vigilantes in general.

Suddenly, Danny was his face, sneering and growling, when Bruce pointed out that Phantom was the small-town hero of Danny's boyhood and someone he felt jealous of. Danny obviously held the hero in high regard to the point it felt like he was in love with him if Danny was inclined to such emotions- he was just if not more dangerous than Batman would ever be.

It went even worse when Bruce spoke his support for the Anti-Eco Acts that were currently being discussed.

A lot of hateful words were spoken in ten minutes, and by the end of it, Bruce couldn't even figure out how it ended, with Danny's eyes watering up with angry tears or his chest heaving with the screaming.

Why did he even say that? Bruce had a lot of issues with the Anit-Eco Acts. They were far too seated in bigotry to be anything but an excuse to hunt a different race.

He regretted his words, though he doubted he could ask Danny for forgiveness soon. That man was known for holding a grudge and giving the cold shoulder when angry.

Bruce would have to grovel later.

The door to his study slams open, and his children crowd the entrance, looking alight and outraged.

"Why did you make Dad cry!?" Jason demands, crossing his arms and looking ready to throw down. The kids started calling Danny Dad a few months ago when Tim accidentally slipped it into a conversation, and Danny thought it was sweet.

They played it off as a joke, but Bruce knew they liked referring to him as Dad. Bruce was Father in formal events, B in casual moments, and when angry with him, the kids simply referred to him as B.

B for Bitch since you act like one, Dick once explained, eyes burning with anger and a smile as sharp as broken glass.

"You better have a good reason, B." Tim hisses, voice low and anger tightly coiled like a snake ready to strike. It's a violent reminder of Danny that Bruce can only place his hand over his eyes again and groan.

"We had a disagreement."

"What did you do?" Damian demands next, tapping his left foot impatiently. He picked that up from Jazz the last time Danny's sister was in town. "Before claiming innocence, just know you're always at fault. Dad can do no wrong."

"Hear, hear," Steph, Duke, and Cass say together, glaring daggers at Bruce.

Great. The kids have unionized against him.

"We had a disagreement on the Anti-Eco Acts." He grits through clutch teeth, trying to get his shimmering anger to calm down. The children are not helping, and his frustration rises slowly at the avalanche of noise his children release.

"How dare you!"

"Those acts are a blatant disregard of human decency!"

"I always knew you were a white privilege asshole but this!?"

"I will stay with Danny for the rest of the month! I can't believe this!"

"Look here, you Father. You will not support those act,s especially at the expense of Dad!"

"You blue-eyed demon."

Bruce puts his head into his hands and screams. Danny returns to talk this over hours later, but Bruce is right.

He has a lot of groveling he needs to do. His kids still lock him out of his room. They have a sleepover with Danny, dragging in their mattress and watching movies late into the night.

He sleeps on the couch, listening to their merry-making with a heavy heart. Aflred refused to let him sleep in a guest room once Dick informed him that Bruce was in the dog house with Danny.

Betrayed in his own home.

The Anti-Ecto Acts are rejected primarily due to Bruce Wayne spearheading their resistance. Danny hugs him when he reads the paper, and all is right with the world. The Kids still don't let him sleep in his own bed, and for a month, Bruce's back hurts from the lumping couch cushions.

Clark tells him jokingly the children would choose Danny in a divorce, so he starts carrying around Kryptonite.

[definitelynotanalien]

♪⋆.✮ ‘cause you think you’re such a hard boy, baby

feat: Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Rensuke Kunigami

tw: toxic men, gaslighting(?), breaking up, kunigami is low-key traumatised, reader is an ah

Your boyfriend is cold, colder than usual. You thought it would’ve changed after you officially got together, even announced it to the press, but he’s acting odd. 

He’s started to avoid you in private, he never texts you to tell you if he’s coming late, and he’s stopped trying to hang out with you. Whenever you suggest something to him he immediately turns it down, and he’s not showing you his phone anymore.

Something had changed. He’s become toxic.

Maybe you should’ve taken your mom’s advice and never dated him, or never even talked to him.

He’s rude to you in public, to the point where even your managers notice the disconnect. He acts as if he’s sooo hardcore, does it make him feel big inside? Especially when you try to break up with him and he starts to gaslight and guilt trip you into staying.

Whatever, let’s see how hard he actually is when you leave.

Michael Kaiser is distant, more so than usual. He’s stopped talking to you, even when other people are around. The only time he seems to pay attention to you is whenever you’re surrounded by the press.

But it’s been on and off, sometimes he’s the usual loving boyfriend you adore, sometimes he’s like this. And it’s not getting for the better, in fact everytime you see him lately something seems to set him off.

He’s avoiding you, and you don’t know why.

Yet even though you know that the problem stems from Michael, you can’t help but doubt your own validity in this scenario. 

Maybe you did something wrong, maybe you were too enthusiastic or you weren’t enthusiastic enough. Maybe he was still pissed at you for not attending one of his soccer matches a few months ago, even though he knew you had work and couldn’t take time off. At the same time you had apologised for the incident, and you thought he accepted it.

But, whatever. It doesn’t matter that much. It doesn’t matter that when you finally confront him about avoiding you, he only responds with a simple, snarky, “Are you crazy?”

You blink, wide eyed and heart pounding. “I’m not crazy, you’re avoiding me.”

Michael scoffs, tossing his long blond and blue rats tail across his shoulder and staring at you half heartedly. 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” He laughs it off, his tantalising blue eyes glimmer in the light of your apartment.

His statement sets you off.

“You are avoiding me! You never talk to me anymore! You ignore me so much in public, that even the press is noticing!” You begin to shriek.

The blond man simply stands in front of you, his hands casually in his pockets as if this is any random tuesday. He licks his fake white teeth as you ramble about how you know something is wrong, and he glances down at his nails.

“And, and, you won’t even tell me why when I ask you! You’re constantly going back and forth between liking me and hating me!” You explain. “It’s like I’m not even your girlfriend anymore!”

There is a pregnant pause.

He runs a hand through his hair, interrupting your swirling thoughts, “You’re fucking crazy.” 

A sudden uneasy quiet envelopes the room, and your hands begin to shake.

Of course he’s calling you crazy. Of course he isn’t truly answering your demands. Of course he’s doing this as he always does. 

But. Whatever. It doesn’t really matter. Why should it. Why should you have expected more from him. Whatever.

You sigh, and poke his chest, where his heart should be. There’s a heart shaped tattoo on his chest, but there’s nothing inside. Michael narrows his eyes, staring down at the point your finger connects to his skin.

“Don’t touch me.” He screams, slapping your hand off.

His previous uncaring and nonchalant mask seems to be ripped off, maybe you were really that repulsive to him.

You look up at him, your hand retracted, “We’re done.”

The world goes silent.

Too cool for love isn’t usually your type. But now you find yourself standing in front of Sae Itoshi, on the verge of tears.

“Do you love me too?” You ask.

It’s an absurd statement, Sae is your boyfriend, of course he should love you. The phrase shouldn’t have made him stop his movement completely, his eyes darting to the side almost guiltily.

You think you’ve caught him off guard, the two of you are in his apartment after a perfect match and he’s rather relaxed, why would he expect his girlfriend to say something as odd as you just did.  

He recovers, straightening his back and pulling out his apathetic persona, “Excuse me?” Sae asks.

Your heart pauses. You know he’s heard you, afterall he gave you a surprisingly large reaction for him, and you know that if he truly loved you he would have no reason to ask.

“I said, do you love me too?” Your voice cracks, stomach swirling. 

Perhaps it’s the calm atmosphere, or the way you’re barely holding in tears as you stare down at the ground, that allows him to tell you the truth. Tell you the truth for the first time in a while.

“No.” Sae turns, resuming his prior actions. “I don’t.”

That’s what causes the dam to break, and gallons of tears to flow down your face. 

Your throat is as scratchy as a record as you question, “You’re leading me on?”

He doesn’t make a noise.

“You asshole!” You erupt, walking up to him and demanding his attention. “I thought I mattered to you, I thought we meant something!” 

He sighs, admitting coldly “You didn’t. We didn’t.” 

“What! You- take that back!” You gesture wildly, pleading to some deity to change Sae’s mind. To convince you that this was all just one cruel joke, or some stupid dare. “Make me think that I didn’t waste my life on you.”

He continues to just stand there, so unbothered and uncaring even though you’re spilling tears and your heart is shaking at the spot.

“You wasted your life.” Sae comments.

His pinkish brown hair is down, with bangs that barely reach his forehead, let alone his eyes. You’re starting to vibrate, as stupid as that sounds, you thought you meant something to him. You thought he cared for you, that he loved you as whole heartedly as you loved him.

“Why are you acting like we were nothing!?”

He bites his lip.

“This is why my friends hate you. This is why your own brother hates you! You’re an emotionless freak!” You lash out, you move your hand to slap him and he grabs your arm midair. He couldn’t even let you have that one.

He stares at you, gaze unwavering.

“I’m done. Let’s break up.” 

He smiles, “Good.”

Rensuke Kunigami is the kindest, most loving guy in the entire world. He’s the type of guy who plants flowers, just to grow them into a beautiful bouquet for you. He’s the type of guy who learns complicated braids and hairstyles to use on you and your future kids. He’s the type of guy who loves wholeheartedly, and worships his beloved.

Rensuke is, simply put, a bleeding heart. And he is the penultimate love of your life, the one man that you always find yourself lingering on and loving. 

He’s the dead parent in films, who are filmed with the blurry nostalgic footage and who the remaining family look towards as a fond yet fading memory. He’s your guiding star, your best friend and most precious treasure in the entire universe.

And you thought he would always treasure you too, after all you’ve been through thick and thin together. You dated before he got accepted into Blue Lock, and stayed together throughout the program, you kept by him even when he returned from the wild card program and became different.

Something is off about Rensuke. Whenever you touch he flinches, even if it’s a simple brush of your fingers. He never smiles in photos, let alone in real life. It’s odd. This big, hunky man used to brighten up years with a mere flash of his grin, and now he can’t even think of it.

And whenever you try talking with him, he always brushes you off. He comes in with one excuse or another, and you find yourself growing more and more frustrated at this.

You thought he would get better after you became fully official, but he’s only gotten worse.

You take a deep breath in, before announcing “We’re breaking up.”

“I love you.” For a second you swear you can see your Rensuke come back, with the innocent flutter of his eyes as he blinks slowly at you. 

The words hit you like a bullet train. How could a monster like him love? Maybe you misheard him, maybe he was lying. Or maybe you were growing insane.

“What?”

He pauses, repeating himself. “I love you.” He says it with such sincerity, as if you are his last and only lifeline, and for a moment you falter.

“You can’t spring that onto me.” You take a step back, trying to escape the thralls of your past love with him. He wasn’t allowed to do this to you, to make you feel like this once more.

He states straight at you, taking a step towards you, “I’m not sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t do this to me.” You plead, you couldn’t take this. You didn’t care if he somehow got better or not, you just cared that he treated you bad before.

He responds with mere silence.

“We’re- We’re still over. It’s not me, it’s you.” You argue, gesturing as you speak with a certain lost ferocity, as if your old feelings -old self- have reunited with the current you.

Rensuke pauses, before turning away and scoffing. He crosses his muscular arms.

You continue, “You’re different now. You’re not the Rensuke I used to know.” 

“That’s true.” He responds curtly.

“Yeah. So we’re done. Over. Broken up. Get out of my house.” You overexpose yourself.

He blinks, “It’s my apartment.” 

Look at him, suddenly so hardcore. Although you may have forgotten about the apartment, in your defence it was somewhat reasonable. It wasn’t like the pair of you hadn’t lived there together since forever.

“You’re right. I’ll go.” You turn, reluctant to leave past memories behind. Memories from before he turned like this, and after he changed into this.

“Have a nice life…” He says.

You sigh, “I will. I hope you do too.”

“I still love you.”

“I don’t.”

[leonastarry]

{ 17 } Young and Beautiful. ✧. ┊    husband!jinwoo x wife!reader song related: young and beautiful - lana del rey

The evening light bathed the room in a warm orange hue, dyeing your locks a golden yellow as you stood silently in front of the mirror. The signs of time had begun to appear: faint wrinkles at the corners of your eyes, your hair no longer completely the same color as before. Even though no one said it, you knew very well that you were changing.

But Jinwoo didn't.

He was still the same—his jet-black hair, his deep eyes, every line on his face as sharp as the day you first met him.

Even though he intentionally adjusted himself over time, to look older with you, you knew that the change was all fake. One day, he would still be as young as ever, and you…

You reached out to lightly touch the mirror, your fingertips brushing over your own reflection. How many years had passed? How many times had you seen yourself change, but Jinwoo remained the same, like a painting that never faded with the years?

Before, you didn't care. You were happy with his love, with the eternity he gave you. But lately, every morning when you wake up, you realize that you are no longer the same, that fear creeps into your mind.

You love Jinwoo. But can love overcome time?

When you're no longer young, no longer as beautiful as before… will Jinwoo still love you?

That thought makes your chest tighten. You know Jinwoo will never leave you, he's not that kind of person. But if one day, when you become old, when you no longer have the radiance of youth, will he still look at you with the same eyes as now? Or is it just a habit, a responsibility?

You laugh lightly, blaming yourself for being stupid. Jinwoo has never done anything to make you doubt his love.

But people always have irrational fears, and you can't deny that you're afraid.

You're afraid that one day, when standing next to him, you'll be a stranger—a person eroded by time, while he'll still be as eternal as he was in the beginning.

A gentle breeze blew through the window, rustling the thin curtains. You clenched your hands, trying to push those thoughts away. But when your eyes accidentally fell on your hands—the faint veins, the tiny specks of time—a fear rose in your heart.

There were footsteps behind you, and then a familiar pair of arms wrapped around you from behind. Jinwoo's warmth enveloped you, and you felt his slow, steady heartbeat against your back.

"You're thinking too much again." His voice was deep, carrying a hint of indulgence and a light reproach.

You pursed your lips, not responding. Jinwoo tightened his embrace, lowered his head, and placed a light kiss on your hair. "Tell me, what are you worried about?"

You hesitated, then finally whispered. "If one day… when I'm no longer young and beautiful, will you still love me?"

Jinwoo paused, then slowly turned you around to face him. There was not a single hesitation in his dark eyes, only deep tenderness.

"I've loved you for a long time, not because of your looks or your youth." He reached out, gently brushing through your hair. "I love you for who you are."

You bit your lip. "But—"

"There are no buts." Jinwoo sighed softly, his forehead touching yours, his gaze so gentle that it made your heart ache.

"I've lived for so many years… two lifetimes, but you're the only thing that makes time meaningful to me. If you grow old, I'll grow old with you. If you grow weak, I'll be by your side. No matter what happens, you'll always be the one I love."

You looked at him, your chest tightening with emotion. Jinwoo didn't hesitate, he wasn't faking it. His love for you was as real as his existence.

"When I'm no longer beautiful, when the spotlight goes out, will you still stay with me?" You whispered, the question echoing like a prayer.

Jinwoo chuckled, his eyes shining in the pale light of the sunset. "I will stay, no matter how the world changes, no matter how much time passes. Not because you're beautiful or young, but because you're the only light in my endless life."

He gently lifted your chin, his eyes filled with sincerity. "And in my eyes, you'll always be beautiful. No matter how many years pass, no matter how much the world changes, you'll always be the most beautiful person in my heart."

A tear silently fell down your cheek, but it was no longer a tear of fear. You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his warm chest.

Jinwoo smiled, holding you tighter, as if he was holding his entire world in his arms.

And to him, you were that world.

Outside the window, the evening light gradually turned into night, but his love for you remained eternal, like a promise that would never fade.

maybe i should finish those wips of mine ._.

but the new idea is so seductive

meh, there are some changes in my timetable, so maybe I'll be more free

[yerimbrit]

inside you (is a field of spring flowers) : p. hanni

synopsis: you feel it in your chest—as if flowers are about to start spilling out from your throat like a broken fountain.

# : pairing ! pham hanni x 6th member!reader

# : tags ! fem!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, hanahaki!au, hanni likes a boy here sorry, unrequited love, miscommunication? more like no communication, hahaha! you know technically this is hanni x reader x minji but *EXPLOSION*, i mean... they kiss??????? is that a good thing?

# : wordcount ! 10k

# : warnings ! mentions of blood and surgery, panic attack, near-death experience, several mentions of drowning and throwing up, toxic(?) themes, please think before you act guys

forget-me-nots have always been hanni's favorite flower. she pointed it out to you once, as trainees, when you two were passing by a flower shop on the way back to the dorms. the display was only dimly lit, the hours way past closing, yet she was able to recognize them so quickly—it amazed you.

when you debuted together in newjeans, you bought a bouquet of forget-me-nots for her, shyly presenting it to her when you returned to your shared room after the debut showcase. her smile was radiant that day, despite the tiring performances only a few hours ago—you made sure to engrave that expression into your memory, promising yourself to make her smile like that again and again, forever until the end of time.

now, they bloom like a viral pandemic inside your chest, vines curling around your lungs and taking your breath away. ironically, that is what hanni does to you whenever you look at her; she takes your breath away. and then she borrows your heart for a waltz, dancing around it with that smile you love so much. she doesn't ask for the key to your heart, but you'd give it up for her in the blink of an eye.

it started after a walk with hanni, an impromptu convenience store run on a quiet night. she giggled and gazed into your eyes with a look full of so much affection that you stood there in front of the snack aisle, transfixed in place. and then you felt it.

in your chest, a sprout. a sprout that would eventually turn into dozens of flowers, that would send waves of blue and pink into the silver acrylic bathroom sink in your dorm.

you read about it online once, hanahaki, when you were a few years younger and a few less mature. the younger you that took things for granted, swearing that it was fake and wouldn't ever happen to you, no, because cho y/n doesn't fall in love.

but now you, years older and more mature, who has seen only the beginning of the hardships the world deploys, would hate to face the you of the past.

because this cho y/n is in love, and love feels like a field of spring flowers—blue and pink forget-me-nots—flourishing inside your body. something that you will take to your grave.

it's another day of performances, promoting newjeans' new single that has already garnered millions of streams, to which you're immensely grateful for. the overwhelming support of people all over the world, not limited to bunnies, fills your psyche with exuberance.

your energy onstage is overflowing, spreading to the other members and to the fans. the interactions exchanged with the girls singing and dancing with you, the red flash of the live camera, the deafening cheers of the audience once you turn one of your in-ears off—they fuel you with so much motivation to achieve, to fulfill your dreams, to inspire others.

and despite your fatigue hitting upon sitting down in the waiting room, you still agree to come with hanni to the vending machines, unable to say 'no' to the girl of your affections. she leads you by the hand, outside to the hallway and not letting go, sending swells directly to your heart. 

you try to pay attention to the ramble she sparks about the variety of snacks in the new vending machine that was recently installed, and not to the erratic thumping of your heartbeat. occasionally she glances back at you, her eyes crinkling up into a dazzling smile, and you try to send one of your own to mirror her energy.

“i’m excited, y/nnie,” she says, adding a skip to her step to really show her excitement, “the old ones were getting… well, old.”

‘cute,’ you let yourself be dragged further to a corner, walking past several waiting rooms assigned to groups and soloists both known and unknown to you.

the shorter girl stops in her steps and almost makes you bump into her. confused, you look up to try and find what could possibly be the source of her lack of movement, and you see a familiar face.

a boy group member, jay from enhypen to be exact. the guy that hanni's been droning on about for about two weeks now. every second, minute, hour, she manages to find an opportunity to start gushing over him. of course, you’re happy for her, but you’re also sick of it. even danielle is tired of the same topic. sometimes you wish things could go back to the way they were before, and hanni would return to being the loveable, angerable, and passionate person that she is, at least the one you know and loved love. 

they exchange some pleasantries, and your fellow group member inquires about the vending machine and if he's tried it yet. the conversation turns to a different topic, they talk about going on yet another date, she teases him and tells him to text her the details, and he leaves with a lingering touch on her shoulder. i’ll see you, he says softly, making her swoon and wish that he’d sweep her off of her feet. but by the time she turns to you to squeal about the newly planned date in her schedule, you're gone.

the coldness of the running water from music bank's bathroom sink soothes the stress in your veins, washing the specks of blood off of your hands. you watch fragments of petals that didn't make it to the trashcan swirl down into the open drain, then let your eyes bore a hole into the mirror which casts your reflection onto its surface.

'she likes a boy,' a bitter thought bubbles up into your mind, 'and i'm not a boy.' the overplayed song simmers in your thoughts before you have to force it away. stupid. of course it's a guy—he's tall, plays the guitar, cooks, and even more.

you slowly raise a hand, water dripping off of your skin and back into the sink, and shake it roughly in front of the mirror. droplets slide down in streaks, turning what was once your clear, pristine reflection into the distorted face of a figure, unrecognizable. a silhouette of a human being.

what does he have that you don’t? 'that's a stupid question,' you chuckle deprecatingly, 'he has everything that i don't.'

he has everything that you don’t, everything to match as perfect a girl as hanni is. and hanni is everything; she’s sweet, talented, short-tempered, and she puts so much thought into loving but she does it effortlessly.

love was supposed to be like fireworks exploding, the purest feeling you can feel. it's everywhere—familial, romantic, platonic, in the dedication that was packed into building the walls of every building you've been in, in the care that was put into making the matcha latte you had this morning. it's supposed to be euphoric, almost idyllic.

you don't regret loving hanni. she's given you the key to a new world of experiences and attractions, like a theme park that never ages. but you've lost her in the crowd. your heart bleeds into the petals that belong to the flowers she loves so dearly, and it's literally killing you.

forget-me-nots symbol true love and remembrance—something happy, something that is supposed to fill your entire being with joy. but they rot in your gut like the plague.

a flurry rushes up your throat, making you gag and dryly throw up the waterfall of pink and blue petals into the sink. it's a disgusting feeling, both the throwing up and the texture of the bloody petals as you crush them in your palm before transferring the pile to the trash bin.

the blood that remains burns like asphalt on your tongue. you spit another few petals out, a dull red staining the floral discharge and the sink. you turn the 'cold' knob of the sink to wash your hands, but end up looking deep into your distorted reflection once again.

the bloodstained acrylic sink overflows with cold water, splashing down to the floor and soaking your clothes, but you pay no mind to it. instead, you have a face-off with your distorted reflection.

love is intoxicating, exhilarating, and painful. it’s beautiful, yet ugly, and vibrant red and pink, yet gray. loving hanni feels like walking on a long, shaky plank between mountains. like you’re at risk of falling every few seconds.

she'd be happy with jay. she already is.

you frown at the mirror, the movements of your mouth obscured by the water still dripping down the glass. water from the overflowing sink seeps into your shoes and into your socks, inciting another gross feeling within you. you don't bother turning the sink off.

after another moment, you can't take the sight of the empty reflection anymore. an impending cough burns in your throat, and blood sprinkles out of your mouth. the dull feelings and surroundings overwhelm your senses. 

you dunk your head into the overflowing pool of water.

it's cold, and it's comforting. it tastes like blood and it's freeing.

you can finally breathe, for once.

"what were you thinking!?" minji scolds you, infuriated, having found you on the cusp of death in the bathroom. you're in the newjeans waiting room, freshly changed into your regular clothes and out of the ruined stage outfit, and a towel hangs around your neck to catch any stray droplets from your hair.

she paces back and forth in front of the couch you're sitting on, pinching the bridge of her nose. recognizing your lack of response, she sighs and squats down to meet your empty gaze. "are you okay?"

shifting in your seat, miniscule drops of water taint your hands and your white graphic tee. you shake your head stiffly and croak out with your hoarse voice, “i don’t know.”

“hanni said you’d randomly left her earlier,” minji says softly, only the desire to understand storming in her eyes. “if i hadn’t found you when i did, you would’ve…”

hanni. the very reason you’re throwing up flowers every night, for god’s sake. and as if right on cue, a petal makes its way out of your mouth and onto the hand you shove over your lips. when you hesitantly lower it down to your lap, minji gasps.

“is, is that—oh, y/n, you're...” she bites her lip, bringing you into a tight hug. it’s warm, but it provides only a bit of comfort to mend some of the wounds left on your heart. “...you’ll be okay.”

a warm droplet soaks into the fabric of your top, and it’s not the water from your hair. minji’s crying, crying for you because you can’t even do that for yourself. “i’ll ask for a separate car so we can get you to a doctor,” she murmurs into your hair, “everything will be okay, that’s the least we can hope for.”

you notice there’s a few more bodyguards surrounding you and minji as you make your way to one of the management’s black vans. the public can’t know two members left the building separate from their group lest they’d bombard everyone with prying questions disguised by innocent remarks. your heart aches when hyein looks at the two of you with confusion, probably wondering why you’re not all going home together. she doesn’t have to know. she can’t know; it would break her heart.

the hospital is as devoid of life as ever, the only signs of there actually being life in it being the buzz of chatter from staff and patients and rhythmic beeps from machinery. the last time you were in this dystopia of a building was when hyein fractured her foot. back then, the visits were rushed with anxiety and fear that came in a cold bead of sweat. now, it’s a slow walk, resignation dripping with every step that you take and occasionally interrupted by a chilled shiver. bile sticks to the back of your throat uncomfortably.

minji keeps your pace, sometimes glancing worriedly at you before looking to where the manager is up ahead. you’re headed to the front desk, where your manager would discreetly inform the receptionist of your conditions and then be directed to the waiting area, where you would wait for the diagnosis (of which you’re already acutely aware) of your demise.

the woman at the reception is deeply shocked upon seeing you and minji behind the manager, evident in the way her mouth hangs open and how she’s unable to say a word for a few seconds. perhaps it’s not only because of the sight of you, but also because of the reason for your visit. an idol coughing up flowers because of an unrequited love? almost unheard of. almost, because no company would ever let that sort of news out to the public.

examination rooms always smell strongly of disinfectant, now only adding to the pounding headache you have. the scent pierces through your dry nostrils, creating an insatiable itchy feeling that you can only temporarily get rid of when you cover your nose. a nurse comes in for the regular checkup, and then a doctor, doctor jeong, cautiously enters.

he clears his throat, a clear clipboard holding your documents grasped in his hand. his browline glasses enhance his ‘doctor’ image, like he was born to be a doctor. “you… have hanahaki disease. the unfortunate illness of throwing or coughing up flowers, the cause being unrequited love.”

yes, that’s right. hanahaki. unrequited love. unable to answer, you nod your head weakly. beside you, minji bites her lip worriedly. “is… is there a cure?”

“well,” he sighs, eyes filled with sympathy for your pitiful state. it almost makes you want to scoff. “either the recipient of miss cho y/n’s feelings reciprocates, or a surgery can be scheduled for the forced removal of the flowers. with the surgery, the feelings will disappear completely, though there is a risk of not being able to love again.”

a beat of silence follows; neither you nor minji dare to say a word. and so you use the time to think: do you really want to get rid of your feelings for hanni? years of pining, thrown away like nothing? you couldn’t do that to yourself. even though your love is draining the life out of you, it is still love, and it is still wonderful nonetheless. 

doctor jeong scribbles something down on the document, the only sound in the room being your breathing and the scritch of his pencil. “for now, miss cho y/n, i’ll prescribe you flower suppressants. they’ll slow the growth of the flowers in your lungs, but it will only be temporary; it will give you time.”

“because time is all i have,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. 

he stays silent for a moment, then leaves, gingerly handing you a prescription paper, and you and minji are left alone. minji slowly stands up, leading you by the hand to exit the exam room and meet your manager in the hall. you go to the pharmacy to pick up the medicine with the paper he gave. 

the ride home is suffocating, but not because of the flowers begging to be let out. there’s a conversation spoken with the exchange of looks from saddened eyes, and then you break it off to stare at the passing scenery out the window.

time will tell, but time is all you have and there’s not enough of it.

the two of you return to the dorms while everyone’s asleep. when you gently open the door, a figure sleepily rises from the couch and wipes her eyes. 

correction: everyone except hyein is asleep; she must’ve been waiting for you to come home.

“hyein,” minji starts, a slight scolding tone hidden in her voice, “what are you doing, still up?”

the younger girl rubs her eyes again, eyebrows knitting together. she’s clearly fatigued, exhaustion leaking through every action, but she chose to wait for you and minji’s return home. “i was… i was waiting for you,” she slowly replies, as if she were afraid of upsetting the two of you any further—not that you’re upset at her in the first place. “where were you guys?”

“running errands,” minji answers, curt. hyein’s eyes flash with hurt, and the older girl freezes. “sorry. we’re quite tired, hyein. you should head back to bed.”

“thanks—” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “—for waiting, hyein.”

you know she hears the pain in your voice. she glances at you worriedly before she scurries down the hallway to her room. minji only speaks when her door clicks shut.

“i don’t think you have any schedules with her anytime soon… but i can’t prevent her from seeing you,” she breathes out, rubbing her temple. 

you furrow your brow. “why are you saying it like i hate her?”

minji swallows thickly, leaning on her arms on the top of the couch’s backrest, her movements highlighted by the warm glow of the table lamp. “because,” she pauses, frowning, “she invited jay over for two days from now.”

“that fast…” you mutter, and the living room is engulfed in silence until you feel that burning feeling in your throat again. petals. flowers.

the immense pain from coughing is intensified because of the burn that water left, your rushed movements to the bathroom having a clogging effect on you. piles of flowers are heaved out of your mouth and into the sink. 

you turn the water on, splashing some on your face, vision blurring. liquid feels like it's filling up your mouth, your body, your lungs, taking your breath away like hanni does to you. it’s suffocating, the relieving feeling from before now absent. and although your body tells you that you’re not, your mind is screeching, screaming the message that you are drowning. 

you are drowning, thoughts melding together to create a big lump of something unintelligible. you’re helpless.

“hey!” minji runs in, pulling you away from the sink and pushing you down slowly to the floor. “y/n, i need you to breathe. can you hear me?”

water in your airways, water in you. petals in your airways. petals growing from within your lungs. you whimper, throat too dry to manage to cough, but you muster up a creaky nod, trying to meet minji’s eyes, your pupils shaking.

“count to ten with me. one, two, three…”

“four…” it burns your throat, aching as you speak. 

the girl nods, keeping eye contact with you. “good. five, six, seven…”

thoughts are clearing, water is draining. “ei-eight.”

“nine…”

ten. 

you take several deep breaths, leaning forward into minji’s warmth and not closing your eyes. you would drown again if you left yourself in the dark. 

a reminder bubbles up in your mind. ‘...will only be temporary; it will give you time.’ 

“pills,” you whisper, patting your jacket pocket which was slightly splashed with water, some petals hidden in the wrinkles. for a second, you question the legitimacy of these pills, but you’re extremely desperate. your groupmate reaches into the pocket, pulling out the new prescription bottle. 

she moves it away when you try to reach for it, humming. “you can’t have this on an empty stomach. you haven’t eaten since before the performance, and it’s nearing midnight.”

minji has warmed up a bowl of instant white rice, since the rice cooker has yet to be replaced. you watch the steam rise up into the lone ceiling lamp at the dining table.

“you should eat while it’s still hot.”

for the pills. for the pain.

under minji’s hawk-eye surveillance, you dig the stainless steel spoon into the rice and lift it to your lips and take a bite. it’s not supposed to have any special flavor to it, but it travels down your throat like a rock. you try to resist the urge to gag, but it’s inevitable with the next few bites. 

minji uncrosses her arms and slides the bottle of pills to you, and you gratefully open it. ‘one tablet every six hours, take as necessary.’

you take the first dose. it tastes like nothing at all.

the girl takes the bottle, sliding it back near her. “i’ll be giving you one before breakfast, lunch, and dinner. no more. but if you don’t want to take them, i won’t give it to you.”

“i’ll take them,” you reply, staring at the unfinished bowl of rice. it makes you feel nauseous, so you direct your gaze to your lap instead. 

“...good night, minji.”

minji lets out a labored sigh. “good night, y/n.”

hyein stands by with her back pressed against the wall near the living room. you looked awfully tired, maybe even drained, earlier—it’s concerning, especially with the way you and minji had mysteriously gone off somewhere after music bank. 

after much trying, she hears slivers of your hushed conversation. what she heard was shocking, but she can’t decide whether or not she’s glad she knows or if she should’ve really gone to bed earlier. 

“...i’ll be giving you one before breakfast, lunch, and dinner…”

giving what, exactly? the younger girl pushes slightly on her grip on the corner of the wall, trying to view the scene without exposing herself. and there she sees her older member holding a bottle of prescription pills. there’s a few petals on the ground leading to the bathroom. when did they get flowers?

her face pales, and she rushes to the bathroom where she heard the anxiety inducing incident just ten minutes prior. as soon as she flips the lightswitch, she sees broken and blood speckled petals, blue and pink, lining the drain.

and when she opened the small trash can by the foot of the counter, a nauseating feeling rushed over her. dozens and dozens of petals, most bloodied and some retaining their purity. there were even drops of blood on the ground. 

“what…?” 

hyein swallows down her urge to gag and quietly slips away to her room. it can’t be. it can’t.

you wake up at six in the morning. there’s already a tablet on your bedside waiting for you, placed on top of a sticky note from minji that says “after breakfast”. 

so, this is your life now, huh?

with a sigh, you push yourself off of the sanctuary that is your bed and shuffle over to the bathroom. blinking through your bleary eyes, you can see that there’s no evidence of the night before—no petals, no blood—minji probably took care of it. you brush your teeth and turn the faucet on again to wash your face. the memory of your almost-drowning flashes in your mind, but you quickly shake it away.

no one’s awake at six, except danielle who’s really the only productive member in the morning. she’s got her headphones on and is sketching a still-life of the vase on the living room coffee table. the vase is holding wilted tulips, white in color, which nobody has had the time to replace. 

danielle feels your presence, turning her head to you. she offers a wide smile and a wave, and gestures to the kitchen where a pot of oatmeal is residing on one of the stovetops. you return the nod, giving her a small hug before going to the kitchen.

you could probably eat some oatmeal. maybe not with any toppings, no, but it’s bland enough for you to force down. you scoop some into a pink flower-patterned ceramic bowl and eat at the island, facing the living room where you can watch danielle’s sketching.

the oatmeal’s to your expectations. not too bland like the rice, and just enough flavor to carry through. the scratch of your groupmate’s pen is oddly calming to your ears. 

after you wash your bowl and spoon, you return to your room with a glass of water and take the tablet with it. pausing for a moment, you try to think of something to do since you can’t just go back to sleep, and then grab your wired earbuds and your phone after changing into a basic t-shirt and shorts.

on your way to the front door, you hear the faint sound of music coming from a certain member’s room. it’s wild heart by the vamps. one of the first songs she recommended to you. you try to swallow down your mild nausea.

danielle’s still drawing in the living room. you tap her shoulder and point your thumb to the door with a tilt of your head. “i’m going out for a run.”

“be safe,” she nods, waiting for you to respond with your own nod. in the midst of the silence, she stares into your eyes with an unrecognizable look, like she can see right through you, and it makes you shiver. she’s been spending too much time with haerin.

immediately as you step outside, you feel the early morning breeze hit your exposed skin and regret not bringing a jacket. it’s whatever—the exercise will warm you right up. exercising has always been one of the hobbies that could relieve you of your stresses, ever since high school. it served well as a distraction from exams, from your friend’s delusional crushes, and from the thought of having to practice singing and dancing for eight hours the next day. you hope that will be the case for today. 

starting with stretching your limbs, you pay extra attention to your legs since it’s been a minute since your last run. you pull out your phone and open spotify, tucking the earbuds into your ears, and restless by bibi fills your ears. the soothing nature of the intro is a pleasant launch to your session, and you focus on getting one foot in front of the other in a walk, slowly speeding up.

the last time you took a few laps around the neighborhood, it was with hanni. she, ever the curious soul, had asked to accompany you on one of your regular runs, and of course you said yes. about halfway through the usual three miles, she stopped you abruptly and asked for a break. 

(“wait, wait!” the shorter girl called out, and when you looked over your shoulder you could see her hunched over and leaning her hands on her knees. “couldn’t we take a break?”

you checked your wrist watch, tapping on the screen to pause the time. “it’s only been 15 minutes, though?”

hanni made a face and gestured at your belt holding a water bottle. you slipped it out of its compartment and handed it to her, which made her expression shift into a satisfied and thankful grin. you smiled at the change. “do you want to stop by the river?”

the girl paused in her drinking. “how far is that?”

“not too far. we can feed the ducks?”

“oh my god, yes please.”)

the two of you had gotten back way later than scheduled, and got scolded by minji. you had to deliver the explanation, though, since hanni couldn’t get through it without giggling between every word. it was because you started dancing to eta for the ducks, much like hanni did in an older vlog.

a familiar wave of nausea hits you as you pass by the mentioned river, though nothing comes out when you instinctively cough. it leaves a strange burning sensation in your gut—it must be the effects of the pills. you can’t decide whether it’s better than coughing out petals or not. the song changes to another. you can’t remember what the previous one was.

it takes you longer than before to finish running three miles around the neighborhood. part of the reason is because of your lack of practice, and the other part is because of your mind being consumed by forget-me-nots. 

you’re standing in front of the entrance of the apartment complex, hesitating in your movements. you can’t find it in yourself to return home. what would you do? go back to sleep? write lyrics? 

a thought surfaces in your mind. minji must be awake by now; she’ll know what to do.

the charms attached to your keys click and clack against each other in a dissonant jingle, and you push the door in with an open palm. danielle has finished her prior sketch, it seems, and is now drawing haerin who’s currently scrolling on her phone with a heavy-lidded gaze next to her. she looks seconds away from falling asleep, though it’s only eight in the morning. danielle greets you with another wave. you send a nod back.

the music playing from a certain member’s room has ceased, and her door is open. you can’t help but wonder where she has gone. instead of going to your room, you make a beeline to minji’s and slightly push open her door. hanni’s all sprawled on the taller girl’s bed, legs kicking and everything, sifting through a playlist to play on minji’s bluetooth speaker. minji perks up at the door creaking open and widens her eyes, preparing to say something but hanni beats her to it.

“oh, hey y/n!” she chirps, waving you over, “come lay with me, minji’s new blanket is so warm.”

a familiar and welcoming warmth floods your heart. you look over to minji, whose expression is stuck between hesitation and something else. whatever it is, you assume it’s a look of concern.

hanni tilts her head and her stare burns an aching hole into you. once you stop fighting the urge to join her and concede, she beams that wonderful grin and all the tension in your shoulders is released. minji’s conflicted gaze lingers on you until she sighs and turns back to whatever it was that she was doing at her desk. you don’t join hanni in laying down, but you sit on the edge of the bed next to her. she sends you a questioning look, pouting, but you point at the training clothes you’re wearing.

“i’m sweaty,” you say, causing hanni to playfully roll her eyes. “i went for a run.”

the shorter girl throws one of minji’s teddy bears at you, and you catch it. it’s soft and fuzzy, wearing a gray sweater. “look at you, being productive in the morning! you haven’t gone on one for ages.”

because her statement was true, you couldn’t find any argument to refute it with and settled on the excuse of practice for the ongoing comeback. today is one of the rare free days, since you’ve been promoting for about two weeks straight now. tomorrow, you and haerin are scheduled for an appearance on a variety show that you can’t remember the name of.

there’s a pause, the atmosphere calm and relaxed, and you start to space out as you stare at some poster in the oldest’s room until hanni taps her hand on your back. you whip your head around, bending your arm back to touch on the spot she hit. it tingles. 

“are you free later?” she asks, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “i want to go shopping—jay’s coming over tomorrow.”

right. that guy. you almost forgot about him. before your thoughts could drop into a spiral, minji spins around in her chair and cuts through your hesitance. “y/n and i have plans later, actually.”

hanni frowns, her eyes darting between you and the taller. “later being…?”

there hadn’t been a mention of any planned hangout—this especially contradicts minji’s earlier claims of being free the entire day. 

minji stands up from the chair and trudges over to her closet, picking out the first few things she sees, and then turns back to the bed where the vietnamese is now sitting up in confusion. “later is now, actually. y/n, are you ready to go?”

knocked out of your stupor, you scramble to your feet just as the nauseating feeling caused by the mention of hanni’s whatever-he-is starts up. “um,” you glance at hanni, “yeah. let’s go.”

you can’t help but notice the puzzled gaze that the girl sends you as you let yourself start to be led out of the room by the hand. her eyes hold confusion, maybe a smidge of frustration. her sulking is evident in the pout she makes as she watches you leave. 

once minji is finished changing in the bathroom, she smiles at you and intertwines your fingers together, leading you out through the front door. you’re stuck in a daze until she pulls you forward, suddenly noticing how you were lagging behind and practically had to be dragged by her. 

“you’re so slow,” she scolds playfully, scrunching up her nose. then, she lowers her voice to a hush. “did you take your pill?”

the scenery changes from the monotone walls of the apartment complex to the verdant foliage outside. it’s warmer now that it’s not six and a half in the morning—if it was, you’re not sure if the stroll you’re currently on would be enough to warm you up. “i took it this morning,” you reply, feeling uncomfortable. “but it feels like all the flowers are clogging up whenever it spikes.”

a beat of silence passes. minji’s only answer is a firm nod, and she starts swinging your connected hands. you blink. the atmosphere between the two of you became unnervingly awkward from her lack of verbal reply. you swallow thickly, “so, what plans did we have?”

the topic change is successful. minji stops swinging your hands back and forth to look over at you in surprise. she squeezes your hand. “uh, i mean to be honest, i just wanted to get you out of there. do you want to do anything specific?”

“no,” you shake your head, looking at your linked hands, then to the ground, “i—”

your sentence is interrupted by your phone buzzing in your pocket and you quickly turn to minji with an asking gaze. she nods, pressing her lips into a thin line, and you take your phone out to check who the notification was from. the lock screen is of you and the others, with hanni resting her head on your shoulder with an eye smile and you smiling down at her. minji and haerin are playing with a dinosaur-shaped water gun, and danielle is in between everyone, arms wrapped around you and hyein's shoulders. just the mere sight of the photo, taken by one of your managers, warms your heart. 

unlocking the device, you open your messages to see three pictures that hanni has sent you—mirror pictures, showing off three different outfits. a smile automatically makes its way onto your face as you scrutinize the photos she’s sent, and you can just barely hear minji scoff and chuckle in amusement next to you. minji has led the two of you to a nearby bench, sitting you down so you don’t interrupt anyone walking in the midst of your texting.

hanbun  ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ [attachment: 3 images] which one?? you hmmm 🤔 the second one oversized always looks good on u btw what's this for? hanbun  ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ jays coming over remember! i need to impress him so he doesnt think im a slob at home i rlly like him i wanna make this count yk

your chest throbs and you feel a group of petals swirling around in your gut. it’s disgusting, not being able to spit out the very reason for your pain, but still feeling it in a passive state. minji rubs your back soothingly in circles. it only slightly helps. after taking a moment to compose yourself, you open your phone back up to see more texts from hanni.

hanbun  ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ yn??? hellooooo r u there you sorry had to tie my shoe isn’t he just coming over? u don’t need to dress all fancy to impress him hanbun  ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ugh i know but what if you the second one then hanbun  ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ thanks! ill treat u to some boba as thanks <3 you ofc

you pause, pondering whether or not you should send the next message you already typed out in a flash.

you anything for you hanbun  ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ 😆

the screen shuts off and you lean back against the wooden bench, taking a deep breath. the two of you sit in silence for a few moments longer, and then minji stands up with a big stretch. she turns to you, reaching her hand out for you to take. another set of petals swarm your gut and you shiver. 

“let’s go practice.”

an offer intended to provide a distraction. a saving grace. you take her hand, her fingers rough and smooth in contrast with hanni’s calloused fingers. both made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, in two different ways.

“okay.”

old habits die hard.

as a trainee, practice had been a more-than-efficient outlet for you to vent your stress into. it might not have been the healthiest, but it worked—and it was the only thing you knew. minji was the one who had brought you out of the habit, seeing as you worked so hard to the point of collapse.

come to think of it, minji’s been there for you for most of your recent years. from trainees, to debut, and now with your… situation. have you ever thanked her for all she’s done? you have to make a note to do so. 

“you should loosen up your turn here,” minji says, explaining her words in the form of a demonstration. she pivots on her left foot and pushes her torso to the right, her motions more fluid than your earlier ones. “you’re putting too much pressure on your leg—just let yourself move freely.”

your eyes snap to the mirror, replicating her movements as best as you can. a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips when she flashes you a thumbs-up. minji shuffles over to the laptop to pause the music, and turns back to you. “let’s take a break?”

“just a little more,” you frown, taking a step forward to attempt to turn the music back on, to no avail as the taller girl closes the laptop shut and crosses her arms.

minji stands firm, her stance unwavering. if you weren’t already used to this side of her, you’d be shaking in fear. “you know how that’s gonna end.”

her eyes bore into yours, and you have to look away or else the cracks in your soul would expand. “fine.”

by the time minji settles down next to you, cross-legged and taking big gulps from a water bottle from the fridge in the corner, your eyes are drooping in exhaustion. your head is leaning to the side and she notices, scooting back so you could lay your head on her lap after much resistance. 

“you know,” she starts, pressing dents into the empty plastic bottle. the crackling sounds sting your ear. “practice is good. it sharpens your movements, hones your skills, and most importantly, it distracts.”

yes, distraction. it was something you knew very well, precisely the reason why you always fell back into it.

minji places the twice dented bottle in front of her on the floor and reaches down to move a strand of hair out of your face. “i’m sure you already know that. since the start of time, you’ve known. but you also know that overworking yourself can make your practice backfire, and then all your hardwork will go to waste.”

“take care of yourself, y/n-ah, please.”

you look up into her eyes, full of worry. “thank you, minji. i’ll try.”

sometimes you feel as if haerin could burn a hole into you with just her stare. it’s happening right now, as you try to write lyrics for a new song in your room. the feline is laying on your bed, but you can feel her staring through your back. it’s utterly unsettling.

“is there something wrong, haerin?” you turn around in your chair, gulping. “you’ve been staring at me like crazy ever since you waltzed right in here.”

lucky for you, the girl relents and she pulls the covers over herself. “why’d you go out to practice today? and to run? you haven’t done that in a long time.”

of course. if anyone is gonna notice the changes in your routine, it’s always going to be haerin. you turn back around in the chair. “felt distracted. i wanted a change of pace.”

“oh,” haerin hums. “does it have anything to do with hanni-unnie?”

god, her observant nature is so double-edged. the thought of hanni makes your heart clench, but nothing rushes up. good. 

“maybe,” you answer cryptically, “maybe not.”

you reach over to turn your fan on, toggling it to the highest setting. it’s spinning at a moderate rate, and it replaces the silence that was left after your reply. haerin sits up, ruffling the blankets that are covering her lap. “hey, y/n-unnie,” she starts.

without looking up, you hum. the cat-eyed girl doesn’t continue until you sigh and spin around to face her. “yes, haerinnie?”

she blinks owlishly at you. “those flowers from the past few weeks wouldn’t happen to be yours, would they?”

the fan buzzes. you stand up to open the curtains on your window. the sun comes shining through, and you even have to squint a little to adjust to the newfound brightness in your room. you smile when the girl in your room winces. 

haerin may be an observant girl, and she might already know about your condition, but the best thing about her is that she never tells a soul about what she knows if it’s that important. you lean your back against your desk, pencil left on your notebook, and the sun casts a shadow over your face.

“go to sleep, kitty kang. i got new comforters.”

the feline tilts her head at you, curious but never pushing, and lies back down obediently. she tucks herself deeper into your blankets, bringing her phone closer to her, and closes her eyes with a contented sigh. there’s always been an unspoken agreement between the older girls, to not burden the younger members too much, but they always want to know anything and everything about their older friends.

you’re sure haerin already knows, but for now, you’ll pretend like she’s blissfully unaware.

one month has passed since the day out with minji, supernatural promotions have concluded, and newjeans has been granted a break. you should be resting, but like a cat always makes its way back home, time and time again you find yourself in the dark-walled practice room.

in the practice room, there were oxygen masks. at the dorms, there was hanni.

hanni, who has started dating jay. it started about a week after that day with minji. fortunately, you’ve grown so familiar with avoiding hanni when possible that the effects of the flowers have been reduced. today, you even decided to skip the pills. minji wouldn’t know.

you can only watch your reflection as your body moves to the beats of the song, moves on autopilot while your mind is occupied. hopefully, the thoughts of perfecting your moves will drown out all the longing thoughts. despite the growing fatigue weighing down both your psyche and frame, the squeaking of your sneakers and the vibrations of the speaker will always provide you a sense of invigoration.

after all, old habits die hard.

there was a time when hanni would stay with you to practice, simply because of how stubborn she was to not let you go home alone. you miss those times, when you were really becoming closer friends.

(“what are you still doing here?” hanni gasped, swinging the door open and running up to you. you were leaning against the mirror, sweat dripping down your face, but still made a move to get back up and dance to the song that hanni thought she’d heard way too many times in one day.

“practicing,” you replied, “i made too many mistakes today. you should go home.”

the vietnamese huffed, pausing for a moment and then rolling up her sleeves, stretching. 

you frowned, pausing the music. “what are you doing?”

hanni grinned. “practicing with you. it’s dark outside, and we both live in the dorms anyway. i’ll dance with you, so let’s walk home together, yeah?”

you had never thought her smile looked so radiant.)

after the session, you both packed up your things and walked out of the building together. these late-practices became a regular thing, maybe every other day of the week. you still had school, but you would often come over to hanni’s dorm room after classes to talk about what you both did that day. 

on the walks home, you would even stop to go to the convenience store, or even spend hours talking on the swings in the nearby playground. but what was most memorable was the fact that hanni never failed to spot her favorite flowers in the display window of the flower shop.

(“hey, look,” hanni stopped at the window, just barely lit by a nearby streetlamp. “there’s forget-me-nots.”

“forget-me-nots?” you repeated, then looking at her incredulously. “how can you even see them?”

“i could recognize them from a mile away, y/nnie!” she sing-songed, smiling and going ahead with a skip in her step.

you rushed to catch up with her, whining. “hey! you can’t just run off like that…”

hanni turned to you, tilting her head. “we’re debuting soon. when we do, will you get me a bouquet of forget-me-nots, blue and pink, on the day of our first stage?”

it was winter, and it might have been bloody cold, but that didn’t matter because your cheeks were filled with so much warmth. you had never felt this way about another person, in fact, you swore to never feel like this toward another. you quietly apologized to your younger self. there seemed to be no way out from it.

“of course, han. i’ll make sure to get the prettiest batch.”

the shorter girl beamed. no flowers could ever match her beauty.)

the door clicks open and your eyes are forcefully torn away from the mirror by the human nature of curiosity and alertness. there, hyein stands, looking afraid and timid, which is out of character for her. she holds up a cold sports drink, which must’ve just been taken out of a freezer or a cooler because there’s condensation dripping down the side of the plastic.

you shuffle to the laptop connected to the speaker and pause the music, facing hyein who has now walked over to where you were. “hyein,” you greet, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off of your forehead, “what are you doing here?”

she hands you the ice-cold drink, and you waste no time in unscrewing the cap and gulping down half of its contents, releasing a refreshing and relieved breath at the end to appease the youngest. “minji-unnie told me you’d be here. and um,” she bites her lip, suddenly feeling like the ground is more interesting than whatever is about to happen. the volume of her voice drops significantly, and you have to strain your ears to be able to hear what she says. “i want to talk to you about something.”

something? what could something be? it can’t be the flowers, you’ve tried your best to cover up any trace of them, but could you have been careless? 

hyein pulls out her phone and shows you pictures that were taken the night you got home from the hospital with minji. blue and pink forget-me-nots, littered all over the floor, in the sink, and stuffed into the trash bin. remnants of blood on the petals, on the counter, and on the tiles. the orange tinted prescription bottle on the dining table.

your face pales. you’re then tackled into a hug by the taller girl, and soon your ears are filled with the sounds of her sobbing. her phone drops to the ground, clacking against the dark, hardwood flooring of the practice room. 

“unnie,” she clutches at your oversized long sleeve shirt, voice so full of emotion that it brings you out of your stupor. you bring your arms around her, and she unconsciously lowers herself so that you could place your chin on her shoulder, just like always. a big sniffle comes out of her, and you feel the back of your shirt getting wet. “were you ever going to tell us?”

you’re glad that you are the one facing the mirror, because you wouldn’t have to take a look at your cherished younger member’s crying face—only your own, unrecognizable one in the reflection. this time, it’s crystal clear and not distorted by streaks of water.

“there, there,” you pat her back softly, murmuring gentle reassurances so that her tears may be reduced. hyein was the last person that you wanted to know about the situation, but it can’t be helped. now that it’s come to this point, she deserved to know the whole truth. “let me get you some water and then we can talk, okay?”

feeling a nod against your shoulder, you take it as a cue to pull away and wipe her tears away with your sleeve. the cuff of your right sleeve is now dampened. you roll it up. “we’re out of water in this fridge, so i’ll have to get it from another room. can you wait here for me?”

hyein sniffles, wiping away more tears from the corners of her eyes. she barely nods, mumbling a quiet “okay” before you turn to open the door. something in your gut tells you not to open it, but you do anyway.

“let go of me, jay!” hanni half-grumbles, half-shouts, shaking off the man’s grip on her arm. he chases after her, a hint of pleading in his eyes as he scrambles to beg for another chance.

“hanni, please! we can talk about this, can’t you give us another shot?”

the short girl glares at him, seething in anger and distrust. “you cheated on me, jay. i’d be a fool with no self-respect to come crawling back to yo—mmph!”

he brings her into a kiss. you swivel around on your heel to shut the door behind you and face a confused hyein. it was a mistake to open the door. it was a mistake to skip the pills.

you fall to your knees and cough out floods of blue and pink.

it’s been a while since an attack this big happened. the medicine suppressed the flowers, which meant that when you coughed this time, everything kept spilling out. everything that you’ve tried to hide for the past month or so. the coughs won’t stop coming, and with the coughs come even more petals, to the point where broken stems appear in the products of your suffering. hyein rushes to your side, eyes widened and hands trying to rub your back in hopes that it would help, but after a minute of doing so she realized that she would need help from the outside.

she stands up abruptly, breaths becoming heavier with panic. “unnie, i, i’m gonna get help! stay there!”

you reach a hand out, “hyein, wait—” trying to stop the girl, but you’re interrupted by more coughs and more petals and hyein is gone, you’re alone in the room again, and you can’t breathe.

everything isn’t going the way it’s supposed to be. nothing ever goes your way. you stay hunched over on the ground, chest heaving until your coughs are dry and bear empty yields. there’s an impressive pile of flowers, both with stems and no stems, full flowers and just petals, on the floor under you. you struggle to sit up, shakily coming to a stand and slowly walking over to where hyein’s phone is on the ground.

“it’s okay,” you mutter to yourself with a hoarse throat, “it’s fine. everything will be fine.”

hanni's mind has been in a swirl of frustration, anger, betrayal, and now it's confusion because she just saw hyein run out of a practice room screaming for help for you. jay's still standing at the part of the hallway in which she slapped him after he kissed her, but she couldn't care less. because now, now she knows that you're in need, and you're in the practice room, and she knows that you've been avoiding her and she didn't mind it because of jay, but she still loves you because you're her best friend.

her best friend that could solve every problem in the world for her. hanni wants to return the favor. find out what’s happening to you. fix the problem. she knows cpr! ...hopefully that knowledge isn’t needed in this situation. 

the moment she walks into the practice room, she notices a pile of blue and pink forget-me-nots. her favorite. they’re speckled with blood and wow, that’s a lot of blood for flowers, and she realizes that flowers don’t bleed, and that the only person it could’ve come from is you. flowers. blood. hanahaki disease.

fix the problem.

hanni isn’t thinking when she runs up to you, cups your cheeks, and crashes her lips onto yours. she isn’t thinking when she lets her tongue swipe your lip, granting herself access to explore the inside of your mouth with her tongue, isn’t thinking when her teeth clash with yours. she’s just fixing the problem.

sometimes, she thinks that she isn’t a good friend. she ignored you for a stupid guy, and because of her ramblings, she didn’t notice that you were in pain. 

and then she feels something sharp pricking her tongue, and she withdraws in pain. you’re staring wide-eyed at her, breathing heavily as you fumble with your hands to pull a flower out from your throat. it’s a full stem, but it has thorns on it. hanni doesn’t think she saw thorns on any of the ones in the pile behind the two of you.

for a moment, it’s silence. just you and her, staring at each other, staring at the thorned flower that you just pulled out of your mouth. she’s stained the skin around your lips with her peach lipgloss. the next moment, hyein and minji come running into the practice room, take one look at hanni and make inferences about what just happened, and hyein takes you out of the room. hanni swears she sees you trying to say something before you’re pulled away.

minji surges forward and grips her by the collar of her shirt. “what did you do?”

“i—” hanni gasps, trying to get the girl’s hands off of her shirt.

“what, did you do, hanni?” minji growls, pure fury encapsulated in her eyes. it’s intimidating. hanni doesn’t know what she did wrong.

“i was just fixing the problem,” she responds. minji looks deep into her eyes, gaze searching for something that may not be there. then, she swallows hard, releases her, and leaves the room.

hyein sits you down at the company café with a cup of water. minji joins the two of you and sits across from you. you spin the thorned flower between your pointer and your thumb. “i’m going to take the surgery.”

“surgery?” the youngest asks, furrowing her brow. “what surgery?”

you take a sip of the water, feeling it rush down your aching throat. “surgery to get rid of my feelings. for hanni.”

“are you sure?” minji asks, sliding her hand over to cover yours.

you don’t look at either of the girls, just down at the table. “no, but… i have to.”

you haven’t spoken to hanni for two days straight. sure, you’d been avoiding her since she started dating jay, but you still texted her back and you still acknowledged her presence. she’s done a lot of thinking ever since she kissed you. how it was an irrational decision, how she was wrong for kissing you so abruptly, and how much of an idiot she is.

for not noticing your pain, and for not noticing your feelings toward her. 

hanni’s done a lot of reflecting these past two days, reminiscing about the old times and feeling regretful that she ruined your friendship in just two minutes. but because you’ve made no appearances in the dorm, at least to her, she’s been in a plaintive mood; she can’t apologize to you. everyone in the group knows by now—about your condition, and about what hanni did to you.

it’s hard to stay positive when her own members treat her with a different air. haerin can’t find it in her to say anything, hyein can’t even look her in the eye, danielle can’t stop giving her comforting hugs, and minji can’t stop glaring at her.

and so she decides that she has had enough. she can’t find you anywhere in the dorm or the company building, so she calls the manager and asks him where you are.

— “y/n? uh, she’s at the hospital.”

hospital? she doesn’t think twice before hanging up the phone and putting her shoes on.

it was no wonder that everyone in the dorm was gone.

the cold air of the hospital greets her after she steps out of the black management cars, her senses being greeted with that indifferent scent of disinfectant. “i’m looking for a y/n,” she tells the receptionist, words melting together in a fast rhythm, “a cho y/n.”

“she’s in room 106, but she—” 

before the woman finishes her words, hanni’s already bolting off to where you are. she doesn’t need any assistance because you’re staying in the exact same room that hyein was when she broke her foot. unbelievable.

once she gets out of the elevator, she dashes down the hallway, maneuvering around nurses and patients without any apologies, only to come face to face with minji, who is blocking her path. she tries to go around her, to no avail. the taller girl crosses her arms with a stern look on her face.

“let me in, minji,” hanni says, tears welling up in her eyes. she’s so worried about you, and she still needs to apologize. what happened to you? “let me in!”

the cold front that minji put up dissipates in milliseconds, and she’s looking at her the same way she did in the practice room that day. “you don’t get to see y/n. where were you when she needed you most? huh!?”

“i didn’t know!” hanni exclaims, “i wasn’t thinking at the time.”

minji narrows her eyes. “of course, you weren’t,” she spits out, “was there a time where you ever thought about her? did you even want to know? she’s been loving you for years. years, hanni!”

tears are unleashed from the corners of the shorter girl’s eyes. years? 

she’s not given any time to react, as minji shoves her back physically. “and what did you do when you finally found out about it? you fucking kissed her as if it would fix anything.”

she’s never liked arguing. when she argues, she lets her emotions win over her rationality, and it has never done anything good for her. “i was fresh out of a breakup; i was out of my mind. did you,” she shoves minji back, “do anything for her?”

the girl scoffs. “i was the one who comforted her, who helped her through all of this, while you were off playing boyfriend girlfriend with jay. i don’t even know why she kept loving you through all the hurt. you didn’t notice her pain, but i did.”

hanni grits her teeth, pushes past minji. she opens the door to your room with minji following after her, and then she sees you.

“y/n,” she breathes out. you turn your head toward the door, where hanni is. minji’s right behind her, anxiety bubbling up in her head. you can tell in the way her movements are so erratic.

“hey, han,” you smile, intertwining your fingers with hers when she takes your hand in hers. in the back, minji looks away. 

“are you feeling better?” she asks, hugging your hand to her chest.

“mhm,” you nod, eyes crinkling up as you smile, relieved, “it’s as if i never loved you at all. the surgeons sure are impressive—there’s no sign of the flowers at all.”

hanni’s face drops. all the tension in the room has now gone away. “what?”

a/n : hello.......... this was supposed to mark my comeback but it took a little while because i did nawt.... mean for it to be this long... but i hope you guys like this one!!!! i think it's funny how you can tell who my njz bias is cus one. she has the most fics and two. she has the two longest fics that ive written for njz LOL

[digitaldaydreamm]

Same person from before - I have a req if this is okay! For childhood bestie au :)

Maybe reader being drunk and sad at a party and her girl friends are all trying to help her be less drunk and sad :( and reader really just wants Rafe. (He may have alr been at the party or comes to it from his house) and stays with her to help her feel better and she feels better but becomes a clingy shy drunk for him in front of everyone because she’s embarrassed that she needed him in the first place?

Maybe she’s too out of it to notice but people can clearly see that reader and Rafe have some unspoken thing.

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | there's nothing wrong with needing your best friend

warnings: drunk reader

a/n: love this concepttttt, clingy reader is me lol. i hope this is what you had in mind!!

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

The party was too much. Too loud, too crowded, too overwhelming.

The bass thumped through your skull like a second heartbeat, every laugh, every slurred conversation around you feeling distant, like you were watching it all happen from underwater.

Your head felt light, the alcohol buzzing through your system, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your chest.

You had barely touched your drink in the last twenty minutes, just turning the plastic cup between your fingers as you sat curled into yourself on the couch, feeling more and more like you didn’t belong here.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Kiara’s voice was soft, her brows furrowed as she knelt in front of you.

You blinked at her slowly, fingers tightening around the cup, but you didn’t answer, afraid your tears would spill out of you like a waterfall. She wasn’t the person you wanted to hear from.

Sarah, sitting next to you, sighed. “It’s Rafe.”

Your stomach twisted at the sound of his name.

JJ groaned from the armrest, throwing his head back dramatically. “Of course, it’s Rafe. What did he do now?"

You swallowed, eyes flicking to your lap.

“We argued before I left,” you admitted, voice small.

It felt stupid now, all of it.

You had pushed him, wanting space, wanting to prove that you didn’t always need him hovering over you like some overbearing shadow. That you could go to a party on your own. Be independent. And now, sitting here with an empty drink and a hollow feeling in your chest, all you wanted was to take it back.

Sarah frowned. “You should’ve known he’d get mad about you coming here.”

“...I know.”

JJ scoffed. “And yet, here we are.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling small, your fingers twitching against the cup.

You didn’t want to be here.

You wanted him.

Sarah seemed to pick up on that because she pulled out her phone without another word.

Your stomach flipped.

“Wait—”

But it was too late.

You watched, heart pounding, as she typed. A thousand different worries raced through your head.

Was he still mad? Would he even come?

The thought of seeing him, of facing him after how you left things, made your breath catch in your throat.

But the alternative—sitting here, pretending you were fine when you weren’t—felt worse.

So, you waited.

And it didn’t take long.

The moment Rafe stepped into the party, it was like the entire room shifted.

He didn’t look around, didn’t acknowledge anyone else. His gaze went straight to you.

His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened—just barely—the second they landed on you.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of your dress, your stomach twisting.

Is he still angry? Is he going to push you away?

You didn’t know, and that uncertainty made your hands tremble slightly as you fisted the fabric in your lap.

He was already making his way towards you, his presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly.

The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe.

When he finally stopped in front of you, towering over where you sat, you hesitated.

Your fingers twitched. You wanted to reach for him.

But what if he didn’t want you to?

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible over the music. You felt your eyes water once more, the tears now threatening to spill.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping just slightly. And that was all the encouragement you needed.

The hesitation melted away as you moved, reaching for the sleeve of his dress shirt with shaky fingers.

He let you, didn’t pull away, didn’t move.

That was enough.

You gripped the fabric tightly, using it to pull yourself up, but the alcohol made your movements sluggish, unsteady.

Your body tilted slightly as you stumbled forward, and before you could even register what was happening, Rafe’s hands were on you.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your hip, steadying you effortlessly. Your breath hitched at the contact, at the warmth of his touch.

Your fingers clenched in his shirt, your face tilting up to meet his gaze, and suddenly, it was impossible to think about anything else.

“I—” You swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat.

Rafe just shook his head, taking in your intoxicated state, his grip on your waist tightening. “Jesus, kid…”

You hesitated for half a second longer before finally letting yourself sink into him, pressing your face into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso in a way that was almost shy.

He went rigid for a moment, like he wasn’t expecting it.

Then, his hold on you softened, and he let out a slow, steady breath before wrapping both arms around you completely, his fingers pressing into your back.

You felt yourself relax instantly, melting against him, gripping onto his shirt like he was the only thing keeping you standing.

Maybe he was.

You pressed closer, nuzzling against the soft fabric, your voice muffled when you mumbled, “Missed you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against your back.

JJ groaned from the couch. “Are you serious?”

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of how tightly you were clinging to Rafe in front of everyone. But when you shifted slightly, he just pulled you closer.

You felt his lips brush the top of your head, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t.”

You swallowed. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t need me.”

Your breath stuttered. Because, God, you did.

So, you clung a little tighter, buried your face a little deeper into him, and let him take you home.

[aliceramblez]

Telemachus x Goddess of Joy!Reader (HCs)

pairing: epic!Telemachus x fem!reader

tags: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, telemachus is a dork, athena ships it, flower language, and some lore for the actual goddess of joy

artwork by Gigi on YouTube!

It's all happens one day when you're still very young.

After a particularly stressful day working alongside your sisters to please Lady Aphrodite, you can't handle the pressure anymore, so you travel to the island of Ithaca to clear your head.

It doesn't register in your brain that you've been crying until you hear a boy's voice calling out to you asking if you're alright. It's a mortal, obviously—a boy who appears to be your age, at least physically.

“Why are you crying?”

“I... I'm tired of trying to make others happy. I just want to be the sad one for once.”

You know you aren't supposed to mingle with mortals, so you keep your responses vague in hopes of satisfying his curiosity while not giving too much away.

But it wasn't like you were lying—as Goddess of Joy, you are expected to bring happiness to the hearts of everyone around you—Aphrodite included—, and it can sometimes take a heavy toll, especially since you haven't been using your powers as long as other Gods have.

The boy stares at you for a moment before running off somewhere in the field of flowers you've been sitting in, only to come back with both a small puppy and a pink peony in hand. He hands you the flower with a smile.

“My mommy says it's okay to be sad sometimes, so don't beat yourself up over it. I think this one would look pretty on you, though!”

You take the flower, give it a look over, and then turn back to the boy with a smile of your own. That's when the puppy leaps on top of you and starts slobbering you with kisses, much to the boy's dismay but your delight.

Since then, you decide to pay Ithaca visits more frequently whenever you aren't busy, successfully meeting up with the boy again and again to play.

You finally learn who he is—Telemachus. The prince of the land and son of Odysseus, progidy of Athena. Whenever he talks to you about his father, you can see the pain in his eyes of having to be sitting around waiting for a man who may never return. You decide to use your powers once in a while to help cheer him up.

It isn't until his thirteenth birthday that he finds out who you are.

“You're a Goddess, aren't you?”

It catches you by surprise, but it's not unexpected. Telemachus is smart, so it wasn't like he wouldn't find out eventually. After revealing your true self, all he does is sit down and listen, just like he did when you met all those years ago.

“I'm sorry I never told you. I... I liked being your friend without the pressure of a title between us. I didn't want you to treat me any differently.”

Telemachus doesn't do anything other than pick up a flower from the field you're both sitting in. A purple orchid which he tucks behind your ear with a smile, making you stare in awe.

“Goddess or not, you're still my best friend! I'd think you'd know me better than that by now.”

“Haha, I do... what even gave it away?”

“You're always showing up outta nowhere and people seem much happier whenever you're around, but like, in a super quick way! Besides, there's no way someone so pretty isn't a goddess...”

It's immediately clear that last part wasn't meant to come out because pink is now covering Telemachus' cheeks, causing you to flush as well.

More years go by and you begin to share stories with him about the Gods in Olympus—how Zeus is a womanizer, Poseidon looking scary but actually being a secret softie, and of course all the beef you have with your ‘boss’, Aphrodite.

He's always so eager to listen to whatever you have to say because of his dream of becoming a noble warrior, and will also comfort you whenever you're in a bad mood.

You try doing the same when more years pass and there's still no sign of his father. You offer to use your magic to help, but he says all he needs is a friend willing to listen, so that's what you become.

Whenever the suitors are giving him a hard time, you use your powers to make them be as sickeningly sweet with one another as possible, that it sometimes looks like they're in love. You and Telemachus get a crack out of it every time.

It's you who goes to find Athena when Telemachus is fighting Antinous, begging her to come help because there's really nothing you can do on the matter. She really doesn't need much persuading, though.

You can only thank the Gods that he's fine all things considered, but seeing him all battered up with cuts and bruises all over his body breaks your heart. You're immediately by his side with a washcloth and fresh clothes so that the wounds don't get infected despite his protests.

“I-I'm fine, really! Ow!”

“You will be fine once you stop moving!”

Athena chuckles in the background as you turn to her. She's giving you a knowing smirk, causing you to look away with a blush adorning your cheeks.

Once they start their training together, you're there cheering him on from the sidelines, which kinda backfires because according to Athena “we don't need any distractions”. You apparently fall under that category, and Telemachus is covering his face all the time but you swear you can see red on the tips of his ears.

Once Odysseus finally returns home, you're surprised to see Telemachus make his way to you as you're sitting in your usual spot.

He sits beside you and seems to be fiddling with something hidden in his robe. You can't see what it is from your angle.

“Aren't you going to spend time with your father?”

“He's with my mother right now. Something tells me they're going to be a while...”

“Right, I almost forgot. She must be overjoyed! But... are you okay? I saw what happened in there and...”

“Hey, I'm okay. Athena's training paid off. I'm tougher than I look, ya know?”

He then proceeds to comically flex his muscles with a wiggle of his eyebrows, causing you to laugh at this adorkable human being. You thank the Gods that you were born in the same time period as him, because now you can't think of a life without him in it.

That's when you notice the nervous fidgeting again and he's even started to advert his gaze after the little joke he pulled off. It's strange considering he's never been the shy type—when he's got something on his mind, he'll speak up no matter what.

“Are you sure you're okay, Telemachus?”

“Y-Yeah, I'm fine! I just... wanted to give you something. As a thanks for everything you've done for me.”

And before you can say anything, he's pulling out a flower from behind his back and placing it behind your ear. You can only barely register what it is before it's out of your sight: a red rose.

“You're the most amazing person I've ever met. A-And not just because you're a Goddess! You've always been there for me even when I don't ask you to, and have my back no matter what. You're just really nice, and funny and kind... I-I..”

You can't take it anymore and before your mind registers what's happening, you're already kissing him.

As you pull away, both your faces are as red as tomatoes and you can feel the smile on your face turning large and goofy. Giggles erupt from you both.

“I love you...”

“I love you, too...”

“And I love how long it took you two lovebirds to admit it.”

Athena's owl is gazing at you both and it almost sounds as it's chuckling while you two hide your faces in each other's shoulders.

Coming to Ithaca was the best decision you could've ever taken.

[verstappenverse]

Lost in the Spin - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max refuses to let rumors rewrite your love story.

3.1k words / Part 1 / Masterlist

Max was on his jet within the hour. He hadn’t even hesitated, instructing his pilot to prepare for takeoff while he threw whatever he needed into his bag and put on the first hoodie he could find. The flight felt endless, his knee bouncing the entire time, fingers tapping against his leg as he tried not to let the worst thoughts consume him. Every second was another second you could change your mind, another moment for doubt to creep in, another moment he might be losing you, another chance slipping away to make things right.

Would you actually believe him? Would this be enough?

He didn’t know, but he had to try.

He barely touched his phone, fearing he’d see more headlines, more assumptions, more comments dissecting your relationship as if it was entertainment for the world to judge. He couldn’t let this be the end. Not over something that wasn’t real. His fingers tapped anxiously against his thigh, finally he unlocked his phone just to see your last message again.

Okay.

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t reassurance. But it was something.

As soon as the plane landed he was moving, his cap pulled low, hood up to avoid attention. The car ride to your apartment was silent save for the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. As he climbed the stairs to your floor, the reality of the situation hit him all over again. He had almost lost you. He still might.

Max hated not knowing. He hated not having control over this.

But most of all, he hated that he had hurt you.

Standing outside your door, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before knocking. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he waited, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. A long pause. Then footsteps.

Then you.

There you were, standing in front of him, you looked tired, eyes slightly puffy like you’d spent hours crying, arms wrapped around yourself as though you were holding yourself together. Seeing you like this, seeing the hurt he had caused felt like a punch to the gut. It twisted something deep inside of him. He had never wanted to be the reason for your tears.

You heard the knock, your heart jumping into your throat. You had been staring at your phone for hours rereading Max’s messages, scrolling through the photos again and again, trying to find some kind of clarity. But now he was here.

You swallowed, wiping your damp cheeks before slowly making your way to the door. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked it and pulled it open.

Max stood there looking exhausted and disheveled. He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, dark circles under his eyes. The moment his gaze met yours, the raw emotion in them almost made your knees buckle.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice hoarse, eyes searching yours for any sign of hope.

You hesitated before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Max walked inside, the space feeling different than usual. Colder. Like a part of it had already started to pull away from him. The door clicked shut behind you, the silence stretching heavy between you both. He turned to face you, his hands flexing at his sides like he was trying to stop himself from reaching out to you.

You sat down on the couch and he followed, careful not to sit too close. He knew you needed space, but all he wanted to do was reach for you, hold you.

You were the first to break the silence. "Max…I…I don’t even know where to start.”

“Baby…” His voice cracked, and that was all it took for your resolve to splinter. He turned to you, his face filled with quiet desperation. “I know I already said it a million times, but I swear nothing happened. I wouldn’t do that to you. Not ever.”

“I need you to tell me the truth Max,” you said. “No sugarcoating. Just… the truth.”

His throat tightened. "I swear to you, I didn’t cheat. I didn’t even know that girl. I was drinking, celebrating with the team and people were taking photos everywhere. I swear I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much I missed you. And then suddenly everyone was pulling me into pictures, and she—whoever she was I didn’t realise how close she was. I don’t even remember half of the night, but I know I would never do something like that to you. You have to believe me."

Your fingers twisted in your lap. “But… how can you be so sure?” you asked, voice small. “If you don’t even remember half the night, how do you know you didn’t do something?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Because I know myself,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Because even drunk out of my mind, there’s no part of me that would ever want anyone else. Because you are the first and only thing on my mind always.” He swallowed hard. “Being drunk doesn’t erase that. It doesn’t change who I am. And who I am is a man who loves you too much to ever risk losing you.”

Your fingers twisted in your lap. "Max it wasn’t just one picture. It was several."

"I know." His voice cracked slightly. "And I hate that it looks so bad, that it hurt you. It was just strangers at a bar, a bunch of misleading angles. If I could go back I’d do it all differently, I’d go straight to my room I’d facetime you instead of letting myself get caught up in the night." He exhaled shakily. "But I can’t change that. All I can do is promise you that nothing happened and that I love you more than anything."

Your throat tightened. He looked so raw, so heartbroken, and it made your chest ache. “Max…”

He inhaled sharply and then he pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it without hesitation and handing it to you.

“This is everything from that night,” he said, voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “My texts, my photos, everything. I want you to see it all. I have nothing to hide.”

You stared at the device in your hands, your chest tightening. The openness, the willingness to be completely vulnerable, to let you see it all, this wasn’t the move of a man with something to cover up.

Slowly you scrolled. The messages were nothing but casual conversations with his team and a few with you. The photos he had taken himself were just of the guys, drinks, blurry selfies. And then there were the images online, the ones that had torn a hole in your chest, the original ones that had been sent to him not cropped and edited but the full group shots.

Your hands shook as you looked at them again, this time in the context of what you knew now. The girl was just there, a fan, maybe an acquaintance. The angles, the closeness, it all looked damning. But there was no direct proof of anything intimate.

He moved closer tentatively reaching for your hands. His touch was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, but when you didn’t pull away he held them tightly in his own. “I love you. More than anything. Please don’t let this be what breaks us.” His thumbs brushed over the back of your hands.

You let out a shaky breath. “I just…Max, I was so scared.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it, hated how exposed you felt, but you couldn’t stop now. “I saw those pictures, and all I could think was, what if I was wrong about you? What if I was just another idiot who trusted someone too much…again?” You let out a broken laugh, shaking your head. “I swore I’d never let myself go through that again. I swore I’d never be that girl who ignored the warning signs.”

Max's hands tightened around yours, his touch warm and certain. His eyes were shining, his expression open, desperate for you to believe him. “You were never wrong about me,” he said, his voice fierce, unwavering. “Never.”

He leaned in, his grip firm as if he could hold you together by touch alone. “I love you,” he said, the words so sure, so steady, it made your heart ache. “I love you more than I can even explain. You’re it for me.”

“I just… I don’t know how to stop thinking about it,” you admitted.

Max exhaled slowly, his thumbs tracing soft, reassuring circles against your skin. “Then don’t,” he said. “Don’t force yourself to push it away. Talk to me. Ask me anything, yell at me if you have to. Just don’t pull away from me, please.” His voice broke slightly. “I will never hurt you like that. I swear to you.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling slightly around his. “I don’t want us to be one of those couples Max. The ones who have to go through each other’s phones or can’t go on a night out without the other. I just want to trust you, to know that we’re solid without needing proof all the time.”

Max nodded. “And you can. I don’t want that kind of relationship either. I want us to be secure, to trust each other without second-guessing. If you ever need reassurance I’ll give it to you, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to doubt me.” He lifted your hands, pressing them against his chest, right over his heart. “You have me. Always.”

You searched his face looking for any sign of dishonesty, any flicker of guilt or hesitation that would suggest he wasn’t telling the full truth. But there was nothing. Just Max. The man who had always been yours, who had never given you a reason to doubt him before this.

"I don’t care what they say. I only care about what you believe. Do you really think I would do that to you?" He asked quietly.

You hesitated. And in that hesitation, Max felt like he might break.

Then, softly, you whispered, "No."

His breath left him in a rush.

"I don’t think you cheated," you admitted, looking down at your joined hands. "I know you Max. I know your heart. And deep down I don’t believe you’d do something like that. But… I’m still hurt. Seeing those pictures, seeing the way people talked about us like they knew everything, like they knew you better than I do…it just made me feel so small. Like it didn’t matter how things would look, because it wouldn’t matter if I got hurt in the process."

Max shook his head immediately. "You are everything to me. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. I didn’t think, it was so stupid and I should’ve been more aware. But I promise you, I would never risk what we have."

A deep, exhausted sigh left your lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Max’s face crumpled with relief, his arms wrapping around you before he could stop himself. “You won’t. Never.”

You looked up at him then, and for the first time in days, you really looked at him. He looked like he had been through hell, and you hated that it was because of this.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Max didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one, but this time they weren’t from pain they were from relief, from the deep, aching love you had for him that refused to be erased by a few blurry images and cruel words from strangers.

You let him pull you into his arms, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. His embrace was warm, steady, everything you had missed these past few days. His lips pressed against the top of your head, lingering there as if he could physically will away any remaining pain.

Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt as a twinge of guilt twisted inside you. “I’m sorry too,” you mumbled against him, voice barely above a whisper. “For overreacting. For being dramatic. I just—I got so in my own head, and I let it spiral, and—”

“Hey.” Max cut you off gently, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, his touch steady. “You don’t have to apologise for feeling hurt. You’re allowed to be upset. I never want you to bottle things up just because you’re scared of how I’ll react.”

You nodded, the weight of his reassurance settling over you like a blanket. “I just don’t want to be that kind of person. I don’t want to jump to conclusions or let my insecurities ruin us.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “We talk. We work through it. That’s what matters.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I never want you to feel like you can’t come to me. No matter what, I’d rather you tell me everything you’re feeling even if it hurts than keep it to yourself.”

You let out a shaky breath, "Okay."

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you murmured, pressing your face deeper into the warmth of him.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was slow and deliberate, like he was grounding himself in you, reminding himself of what mattered.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, because despite everything, Max was your home.

The paddock was buzzing the moment you and Max arrived. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved forward, and the murmur of reporters and journalists grew into a full-blown storm as soon as they caught sight of the two of you walking in together. But you held your head high, your hand clasped tightly in Max’s, refusing to let the noise shake you.

You could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their assumptions, their speculations. Just days ago headlines had painted you as the betrayed girlfriend, the one left humiliated in the wake of scandal. But Max hadn’t let the narrative stay that way. He hadn’t let you drown in the noise.

He walked beside you now, strong and unwavering, his grip on your hand firm. He had promised you that he would handle this, that he wouldn’t let you fight alone. And Max Verstappen never broke a promise.

A swarm of reporters gathered the second you both reached the entrance.

“Max! What do you have to say about the scandal?”

“Do you have anything to say about the rumors?”

Instinctively you tightened your grip on Max’s hand. He didn’t hesitate to squeeze back, a silent reassurance as you both pushed forward.

“Keep walking,” he murmured, voice low but firm. “Don’t give them what they want.”

You nodded, ignoring the tightness in your throat. But the reporters weren’t giving up that easily.

“Is your relationship still intact after everything that’s come out?”

His jaw tightened, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he fixed his eyes on the reporter who had spoken first. The cold, unimpressed stare that had shaken rivals on the racetrack was now turned on the media.

“Max do you have any comments about the pictures that surfaced last week?”

“No,” he said bluntly, his voice carrying over the crowd with effortless authority. “Because there’s nothing to comment on.”

The air shifted. Some reporters hesitated, others pressed forward, but Max’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t here to play into their games. He wasn’t here to give them the reaction they wanted.

Another journalist tried again. “But Max, surely you understand why people are talking. The pictures suggest—”

“Suggest what?” Max cut in sharply, his jaw tightening. “That I can’t even exist in the same space as another woman without ridiculous rumors starting? That a couple of out-of-context images are enough to turn my relationship into a circus? No, I don’t understand.” His voice was firm, authoritative, leaving no room for argument. “What I do understand is that I love my girlfriend and she doesn’t deserve to be dragged through this just because people are desperate for a scandal.”

You squeezed his hand, warmth flooding your chest at his unwavering defense. He wasn’t just standing up for you, he was shutting them down completely.

The reporters didn’t relent. “But the pictures Max—”

“I was out with my team, celebrating,” he said, voice steady but laced with irritation. “Nothing happened. And frankly, I’m done explaining myself to people who don’t even know me.”

The crowd went silent for a moment, stunned by his bluntness. But Max wasn’t done. He turned his gaze directly to the cameras.

“I love her,” he said simply, but with so much weight behind the words that it felt as though your heart had stopped. “And nothing is going to change that.”

The murmurs picked up again, but this time there was a shift in the air. Max had said what needed to be said. There was no room for further questioning.

In the chaos, notifications buzzed endlessly on people’s phones all over again, tweets flying out in real-time as the internet erupted over his words.

@F1Fanatic: Max Verstappen just SHUT DOWN the media with the most protective boyfriend energy I’ve ever seen. “I love her and nothing is going to change that”??? I AM UNWELL.

@RacingInsider: Max Verstappen publicly defending his girlfriend, refusing to play into the media’s nonsense, and making it clear where he stands? Respect.

@SportsBuzz: Verstappen to the press: “I love her and nothing is going to change that.” The man said what he said. Case closed.

@GossipGrid: Max Verstappen and his girlfriend arrived at the paddock hand-in-hand, completely unfazed by the drama. Looks like the couple is stronger than ever.

The headlines followed within minutes, flooding every sports and gossip site imaginable.

Max Verstappen Breaks Silence: “I Love Her and Nothing is Going to Change That”

Verstappen Defends Girlfriend Amidst Media Scrutiny “I’m Done Explaining Myself”

Stronger Than Ever? Verstappen and [Y/N] Arrive Together at the Paddock

Max Verstappen Crushes Cheating Rumours with Fiery Response to Reporters

But none of it mattered. Not the reporters still murmuring, not the cameras still flashing, not the internet analysing every second of the moment.

As you both moved past the crowd, the noise faded into the background. You glanced up at Max, his grip on your hand relaxing slightly as you walked further into the paddock.

“Thank you,” you whispered, just for him.

He looked down at you, eyes softening in contrast to the sharpness he had shown the media just moments ago. “I meant every word.”

And with that, you both moved forward together, leaving the noise behind.

[zombii-writess]

Kingdom Dance : Malleus Draconia

Summary: After being invited to Briar Valley's Festival of Roses by Malleus, you can't help but notice how exhausted he gets whenever he's out and trying to show you places and food of his homeland. People always try and vouge for his attention, but you have an idea that'll make his experience even better.

A/N: honestly, I found the scene very cute and decided to write something similar for Malleus

Inspired by the song, Kingdom Dance from the Disney movie, Tangled

unedited

"Hey, Malleus I have an idea," You spoke up suddenly, the rumbling of thunder echoed in the distance. You were in some sort of carriage that took you to and from the castle that you were residing at.

"I have noticed that you seem a bit," Wincing, you try to think of something to not offend your horned friend, "stressed, whenever we go to town for the festival, yes?"

Malleus who had been staring out the window, had turned his head and focused on you with a curious look. "It is true, I have been a bit stressed."

It was the last day of the festival and Malleus wanted to show you everything. But alas, on the first day, the residents of the town heard of their future Kings arrival to the festival, they all bombarded you as soon as the carriage door was open.

"Your royal highness, please! Have theses goods, free of charge!"

"No, your highness! Please have some of mine instead! I even brought extra for your guest!"

"Your highness, I assure you that these products of mine are of the highest quality!"

Clicking your heels together in excitement, you scoot your bottom closer to Malleus. "What if I told you that instead of announcing yourself, we sneak our way inside?"

Malleus hums, thumb and pointer finger on his chin in deep thought. After waiting for a good minute or two, Malleus lowers his hand and gives you a smirk. "That doesn't sound too bad, [Name]."

Grinning at each other, Malleus scoops your hand into his and with his other, opens the door with the carriage still in motion.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

"MY LEIGE! WHERE ARE YOU!?" Sebek shouted into the lively town, eyes frantic and scanning every face that past him. Lilia floats next to him, a giggle leaving his lips.

"Sebek, maybe you should leave Malleus be," Silver sighs which causes Sebek to spin around at Silver's words.

"I CANNOT JUST LEAVE MY LEIGE! WHAT IF HE'S IN DANGER?"

This time, it was Lilia who spoke up. "Sebek, you need to give it a rest. Malleus might want some alone time with [Name]."

"THE HUMAN?!" The green haired half fae squawked. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW THAT HUMAN SOMEHOW SEDUCED MY LIEGE."

Placing a fist over his heart, he continues he rant. "I SWEAR TO RESCUE MY YOUNG MASTER FROM THIS HUMAN." And charges through the crowd, on a mission to save his liege from the seductive human.

Lilia sighs.

Hopefully, Malleus evades Sebek long enough to have his time with you uninterrupted.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

With a hood over his horns to keep them hidden, it didn't you drag Malleus by the hand to whatever stall that had caught your interest.

"Oh, what are these?" You asked, drooling at the sight of some food. The lady who owned the stall smiled and quickly made her way over to you.

"These are Briar Valley's traditional sweets," She explained, lifting a muffin towards your face. "Made with the finest ingredients."

"They look amazing!" You dug into your pocket for some change. "How much for two?"

"That'll be 4 thaumarks please."

Pulling out your cash, Malleus quickly covers your hand with his own and brings out his own money. "Please, [Name], allow me."

After failing to convince the fae prince to allow you to pay for both of desserts, the lady wraps the treats and sends you off with a wave. Once you were far enough, you ripped the packaging and quickly bit into yours, nearly moaning at the taste.

Malleus holds his treat in his hand, a smile on his face after watching you gush about 'never trying anything like this,'. Then the peace was shattered by a loud voice that you knew belonged to a certain half fae that seemed to hate your very existence.

"MY LIEGE! I FINALLY FOUND YOU!" Sebek cried and quickly ran towards your location, not caring about the people he ran into.

"Oh shit! It's Sebek!" Panicked, you looked around to try and escape when Malleus grabs your hand and bolts. Confused at this action, Sebek pleas with Malleus to remain still so he can rescue him, but Malleus continues to run and run, until he gently shoves you both in between two buildings.

Heart pounding from how close you were and from the chase, you wait for Sebek to pass by.

"My Liege? MY LIEGE!?" Sebek's voice fades away as he runs into the opposite direction.

Breathing a sigh a relief, you turn your sweaty head to the side to gouge at Malleus's reaction only to realize he's already staring at you. No panting, no sign of sweating, nothing.

Then you burst into laughter, Malleus soon joining you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Oh? What's going on over there?" You pondered, walking ahead of Malleus to the center of the town. Loud music and laughter echoed filled the air, in the middle were folks dancing without a care in the world; twirling, skipping, and they would swap partners after every 10 beats or so.

The melody was catchy, and you soon find yourself nodding your head to it. Malleus takes notice immediately. Smiling his big smile, you love very much and extends his hand out, bowing slightly.

"May I have this dance, [Name?"

Oh. My. Goodness.

He had no idea how badly you're holding yourself from cupping his face and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Maybe let him nibble on your lips with his fangs for shits and giggles-

WOAH WOAH WOAH

RELAX [Name]!!

Giggling nervously, face hot from both the thought and from the way Malleus used his princely charms. Putting your hand in his, the fae pulls you to his chest, and leads the both of you into the crowd.

Moving in sync with everyone else, Malleus twirls you around and tries to catch your other hand in his when you're tugged away from the fae prince. Another person had pulled you away and began to dance with you.

Eyeing Malleus from the stranger's shoulder, you hold back a snort at the fae's pout before he allowed himself to be dragged by the hand to another dancer.

Allowing yourself to dance with many different people, you once again look for Malleus only to find his green gaze already on you. Perking up, you take lead of the dance and try to get closer to Malleus, who notices your plan and does the same.

Twirling the woman who was your partner a few times, she moves on in search for her final partner for the last minute of the dance, you make your way towards Malleus.

Malleus takes long strides towards you, arm stretched out in some sort of desperate attempt to have you in his arms before the song ended.

On the final note, both you and Malleus finally end up in each other's arms again, chests pressed together, panting. Mostly you though, Malleus never seems to be out of breath.

The crowd cheers, for the fun they had, and for the musicians for playing the music.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Messing with the fabric of the mini-Briar Valley flag in your hands, you peak at Malleus's smiling figure next to you. He seems to be in a good mood.

"So..." You began, tucking the flag into your pocket. "How did you enjoy today?"

Malleus chuckles at your question. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Yeah, probably, but I've noticed you haven't been enjoying the festival." You bumped into his shoulder gently. Leaning against the stone wall of a random building, the moon shined brightly. illuminating Malleus's features as he stared into the star covered sky.

"Yes, I did enjoy the festival," He leans tilts his head, hair spilling over his shoulder. "thanks to you, [Name]."

The softness in his voice made your heart skip a beat. Staring into his green eyes was becoming too much for you. If you were to keep looking into those eyes, you'll never find your way back.

Malleus cups your cheek, and you jump, not from the contact but from how close you two have gotten without noticing. Are you about to kiss?

Bending down to your level, Malleus glances at your lips before returning to your eyes, like he was asking for permission. Instead of giving Malleus a vocal response, you wrap your arms around his neck and connected your lips the together, surprising the fae prince from your sudden action.

Luckily, he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into his warm body. Deepening the kiss slightly.

Unfortunately, good things don't last forever.

"H-HOW DARE YOU!" A voice screams, breaking the romantic moment you had. "YOU DARE PLACE YOUR HUMAN LIPS ON MALLEUS?! RELEASE HIM FROM YOUR CLUTCHES AT ONCE!"

Maybe you should've taken this a step further and ask Malleus if he wanted to sleep in your room to escape Sebek's onslaught of questions.

Knowing him, he just might take that offer.

━━━━━

[Name]: Wait, Malleus, how in the world did people not realize you were at the festival? I mean, your horns weren't that well hidden...

Malleus: Simple, I used a spell to conceal my presence.

[Name]: YOU CAN DO THAT?

Malleus: Of course, I learned it from Lilia when I was younger.

[Name]: Huh, no wonder I don't notice Lilia when he scares me...

━━━━━

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

ALSO this was made before the Rapunzel event was announced so imagine my surprise when I saw long hair Riddle LOL 😭

[matchalovertrait]

Seeing Caruso's new house and impressive kitchen brought out the envious side of Dulce. It's not an emotion that she's used to. She needs a kitchen suitable for a highly-skilled chef, but how was she supposed to get one now??? Her cookbook sales are at an all-time low, and her sponsorships are gone. What makes her more mad is that she doesn't know who to blame: Herself or Caruso? She's been building her brand ever since she was in middle school. The perfectly curated reputation was NOT easy for her to create. Clubbing had to be sacrificed once she hit a certain amount of followers! People tried to take pictures to make her look bad, but she was just trying to enjoy her youth. However, some things make it all worth it. Over the years, she gained more young fans, such as a little boy named Ash. The children warm her heart and they inspire her even more to someday open a cooking school for young chefs. And the thought of those kids believing all the lies Caruso has spread makes her stomach twist and turn.

Note: That magazine issue was made by deardiaryts4 :) I wasn't really brave enough to do something like that myself because I didn't know if Dulce being that famous seemed practical, so it gave me a boost of confidence for sure. It adds so much more realism to my story too. Thank you 💞

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

Previous | Next

DULCE: Wasn’t that awesome?

ANTONIO: You scared me half to death.

DULCE: Aw, you care about me?

ANTONIO: Well, I can’t do the mission on my own. Remember what Carlos and Tyson said.

DULCE: Obviously you can’t...

ANTONIO: Why do I feel like that wasn’t the first time you’ve thought you were a gymnast at a party?

DULCE: Because it’s not. It’s a trick I picked up back when I use to live it up at the club.

ANTONIO: Mhm...

DULCE: But I can’t really anymore. I have a reputation to maintain... promote “good values” or whatever, y’know?

[Dulce mentally recalled how a gossip magazine did a blurb about the court case. She shook her head. “Hmph, at least they picked a nice photo of me,” she thought.]

ANTONIO: Yes, that’s why you hired me. To fix your mess.

DULCE: And I can fire you just as easily, so don’t test me.

[”Oops, did I go too far with that? Maybe he knows I’m not being serious.”]

ANTONIO: Oh no, please don’t [sarcastic tone].

ANTONIO: But seriously, I’m sorry. I tried to get you but you were too far. Are you all right?

[Dulce turned around. Something caught her eye.]

ANTONIO: ...Hello?

DULCE: Sorry. I got distracted.

DULCE: What a space. Looks like he got his dream kitchen, with a nice walk-in pantry and everything.

[Antonio paused to think. He’s terrible with words outside of the courtroom. How does he find common ground with her? Does he bash on the kitchen? Does he agree?]

ANTONIO: ...I like the sleek shapes.

DULCE: I could’ve had a kitchen like this by now. This could’ve been all mine.

ANTONIO: You can’t possibly believe that.

DULCE: What?

ANTONIO: No, it couldn’t have been yours. You have a different tastes... no pun intended.

ANTONIO: Obviously it needs more purple, geometric shapes, and a much larger stove—all things you’d be getting once we’re out of this mess.

[Dulce wasn’t sure why, but his usage of “we’re” made her stomach do a flip.]

DULCE: Yeah, you’re right.

[luvfae]

Hi queen, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard off to the races by Lana del Rey but, a perfect idea popped into my head when I was listening to the song.It’s like a bad boy & innocent girl trope where the reader gets caught up in thano’s drug scheme but as months go by she starts to feel the need to stick beside him. x💞

RUN OR RIDE

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader

warnings: swearing, lowkey alludes to smut, mention of drugs, thanos lowkey corruption kink, innocent reader, dark thanos

The first time you met Thanos, you should’ve run.

It was a Friday night, the city buzzing with life, neon lights bleeding into the dark. You weren’t supposed to be in a place like this—some shady garage on the outskirts of town, reeking of gasoline and sweat, men shouting over the revving of engines. You were supposed to be somewhere safe, somewhere clean, somewhere far away from the kind of trouble that looked you dead in the eye and smirked.

“You lost, princess?”

That was the first thing he ever said to you.

Thanos stood there, leaning against his bike like he had all the time in the world, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His dark hair was a mess, falling over his sharp eyes, and the way he looked at you—cocky, amused, intrigued—made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t understand yet.

You should’ve turned around. Should’ve gone back to the safety of your world, to the life that made sense.

But you didn’t.

It started with the rides.

He’d show up outside your place at midnight, headlights cutting through the dark, waiting. He never asked twice. Never needed to. You’d always come, slipping onto the back of his bike, wrapping your arms around his waist as the city blurred around you. You liked the way he smelled—cigarettes, leather, something sharp and dangerous. Liked the way he drove too fast, weaving through traffic like he wasn’t afraid of dying.

He liked the way you held on to him.

Then came the late nights in places you had no business being—dimly lit bars, back rooms filled with men who barely looked at you. Thanos always kept you close, an arm around your waist, his fingers drumming against your hip. He liked having you there, sitting pretty on his lap while he handled business, money changing hands, low voices murmuring deals you didn’t want to understand.

“You like watching, don’t you, baby?” he teased one night, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh, just under the hem of your skirt. “Like seeing what kinda trouble I get into?”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his touch made your heart race. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Thanos just chuckled, slow and knowing. “Sure you don’t.”

That was the thing about him—he loved your innocence. Loved the way you didn’t belong in his world but refused to leave it. He’d run his fingers through your hair, call you his good girl, make you sit pretty while he made men twice his age shake in their boots.

People had warned you about him—whispered cautions, knowing glances, quiet warnings you brushed off like they meant nothing.

But it wasn’t until you saw the blood on his hands, the darkness in his eyes, that you finally understood.

The first time you tried to run, he let you.

You didn’t make it far.

It was sometime in the early morning, the sky still dark, the streets empty. You had slipped out of his bed, out of his arms, heart pounding as you gathered your things as quietly as you could. Your heels dangled from your fingers as you tiptoed toward the door, holding your breath with every creak of the floorboards.

You knew what you were doing—getting out while you still could, before he had the chance to pull you in deeper, before it was too late.

But you didn’t even make it past the front steps.

“Where you going, baby?”

His voice was quiet, lazy—like he had been expecting this. Like he had been waiting.

You turned slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat, and there he was. Leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, a cigarette burning between his fingers. His hair was messy from sleep, eyes dark, hooded.

Dangerous.

“I—I need to go home,” you managed to say, trying to sound firm. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Thanos took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling through his nose before speaking. “Yeah?” His gaze flickered down to your bare legs, the marks he had left on your skin. “Thought you liked being here, mama.”

Your grip tightened on your shoes. “I can’t do this. I can’t be—be your little toy or whatever this is.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Toy?” He pushed off the doorframe, taking a step toward you. “That what you think this is?”

Your breath caught. You took a step back, but he was faster, catching your wrist and pulling you in.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” His voice was soft, teasing, like he found the idea amusing.

You tried to shake your head, but he just grinned, fingers tightening around your wrist.

“That’s okay,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your pulse. “You’ll come back.”

And you did.

Again and again.

Even when you tried to leave, even when you told yourself you wouldn’t answer his texts, wouldn’t slip out in the middle of the night to meet him, you always ended up right back where you started. Wrapped around him, beneath him, beside him.

“You in or out, honey?” he asked one night, his hand resting heavy on your thigh.

You should’ve said no.

But instead, you smiled, tilted your head, and whispered, “Whatever you want, Su-bong.”

And just like that, you were his.

You learned quickly that there were places you weren’t supposed to be.

But it didn’t matter—not when Thanos wanted you there.

The first time he took you with him to collect from his dealer, you hesitated, your fingers twisting in the hem of your skirt. “I don’t think I should be here,” you whispered, glancing around the dingy alleyway. “I should wait outside or—”

Thanos only pulled you in closer, slinging an arm around your waist. “Relax, baby,” he murmured. “Just sit pretty and keep your mouth shut, yeah?”

And that was exactly what you did.

The dealer was a rough-looking guy, older, with a cigarette hanging from his lips and a scar running down the side of his face. His eyes flickered to you immediately, then back to Thanos.

“This her?” he asked.

Thanos smirked, pulling you closer. “Yeah,” he said easily, fingers drumming against your hip. “This is my girl.”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your gaze down, staring at the scuffed-up floor beneath you.

“She looks a little lost.”

“She’s not,” Thanos said, his tone light but firm. His hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face up. “Aren’t you, princess?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The dealer chuckled, shaking his head as he handed Thanos the package. “Gotta say, didn’t think you’d be the type.”

Thanos grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah, well. She’s mine.”

The conversation continued like that—like you weren’t even there, like you were just some expensive little decoration at Thanos’ side. A pretty thing to show off, to keep quiet and obedient while the men talked.

And you let them.

Because when it was over, when you were back in Thanos’ car, his hand resting on your thigh, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your ear.

“You did good, baby,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

And God help you, but you liked it.

There was no world without Thanos. No life before him, no future without him.

You needed him like you needed air, like he was the only thing keeping your heart beating, your lungs working, your world spinning. Every step you took was towards him, every thought you had led back to him. He was under your skin, in your veins, a sickness you never wanted to be cured of.

And he knew it.

Knew it in the way you clung to him, soft and obedient, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky. Knew it in the way you never hesitated when he told you to do something, never questioned him, never made him ask twice.

“That’s my girl,” he’d murmur, fingers tangled in your hair as you knelt at his feet, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, to the rings on his fingers. “So fucking good for me, huh?”

You nodded, lips brushing his skin. “Yours,” you whispered.

Thanos grinned, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. His princess. His good girl. The only thing in his life that was soft, untouched, untainted by the dirt and blood he waded through every day.

“You love me, don’t you, baby?” he asked, his thumb stroking your bottom lip.

You nodded again, desperate, breathless. “I love you. Love you so much, Su-bong.”

He groaned at the sound of his real name on your lips, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing. His hands were everywhere—your thighs, your waist, your jaw—gripping, claiming, reminding you who you belonged to.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again, mama.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you—”

He cut you off with a kiss, slow and deep, like he was tasting his favorite thing in the world. And maybe he was.

“God, you’re pretty,” he murmured against your lips. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. My good girl, my sweet little thing.” His hands slid up your sides, pressing you closer, until you could feel his heartbeat against yours. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, dizzy, overwhelmed. “Only yours.”

Thanos smirked, dragging his teeth along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Damn right. You eat, breathe, live for me, don’t you?”

You nodded, gripping his shirt, needing him closer. “I do. I swear I do.”

He chuckled, low and pleased, running his fingers down your spine. “That’s what I love about you, baby. You belong to me.” He kissed your throat, slow and possessive. “And I fucking love what’s mine.”

[sturnlsstuff]

⸻ GHOSTFACE!MATT MEETING SWEET!READER FOR THE FIRST TIME.

— warnings: mentions of murder, stalking, matt being kinda a perv. . .

requested by anon. sorry this took ages 😭 divider credits. @anitalenia

the music thumped through the walls, vibrating the air in time with the bass. a haze of laughter, conversations, and clinking glasses filled the room as the crowd swirled like a single, pulsing entity. matt stood at the edge of the room, a drink in hand, watching it all unfold. he didn’t belong here, not really, but today he was on a mission.

the city had recently been terrorized by a ghostface killer, but apparently the teenagers didn't take it seriously if they were having so much fun at the party. it was amusing to matt, knowing that tomorrow morning, they would all wake up hungover for breakfast and find out that one unfortunate person had been murdered last night— the person who had been at that party. and the first thought that will pop into their heads will be that it could have been them.

it makes the corner of matt's lips twitch, a deep sigh leaves his mouth as he pushes through the crowd of people to get to the kitchen. scanning the room, he notices a couple making out in the corner and a few guys drinking beer. he rolls his eyes and goes to pour himself more vodka. matt hated not wearing his mask, it made him feel strangely safe and like a completely different person, and he just couldn't wait for the end of the night where he would finally choose today's victim, and be the last person they would see.

"oh, fuck—" he hears behind him, turning around and seeing a girl who had just spilled all the juice on the kitchen island. he watches you try to wash the liquid off with paper towels, his eyes roaming over your entire body and something clicks in his head.

you were giving the vibe of a rich, popular chick, judging by the clothes you were wearing, and the way you carried yourself around. was he crazy for getting this from just one look at you? probably. but if matt chose you as his next victim, people would get more terrified— no normal person attacks innocent, beautiful young girls, right? his name would be on everyone's lips for months.

you were perfect.

"...hello?" a snap of your fingers brings him back on earth, a small smile playing on your lips.

he blinks confused, not expecting you to talk to him. "uh, what?"

"i asked if i could have some of this," you pointed at the apple juice in his hand. "i spilled the other one and there's only orange juice left, but i don't fuck with them." you look at him through your long lashes, then adding when he doesn't reply, "if that's not a problem."

matt stood there like an idiot, feeling a wave of heat washing over him at the eye contact. your voice was soft, melodic, like a gentle breeze on a warm afternoon. each word you spoke wrapped around him with a kind of magic he hadn't expected. it was effortlessly smooth, just the right mix of warmth and playfulness that made his heart race. for a moment, he forgot everything, lost in the sound of it, his thoughts scattered as he tried to process how perfect you seemed, his eyes slowly noticing more details.

you were stunning. cheeks flushed, the warm glow of the party still lingering on your skin, and your lips, glossy and perfect, shimmered with a hint of pink. a loose strand of hair had fallen across your face, a little messy from dancing, but it only made you look even more sweet, as if you didn’t care about perfection. your eyes sparkled with a kind of lightness that made you look almost untouchable, like you belonged in a dream. he couldn’t help but get lost in the sight of you, everything about you just too perfect to be real.

"huh? the— oh..." he stuttered dumbly, feeling blush spreading across his cheeks. "yeah, sure, you can have it..." he gives you the juice, mentally slapping himself for being so shy out of sudden, but god, weren't you just a piece of art.

matt was sure you would give him a weird look at his behavior, but no, your sweet smile widens as you take the bottle from him and thank him. while you start preparing yourself a drink, his thoughts run wild.

"i despise vodka," you put the juice down after pouring the red cup, turning around to face matt again.

you were talking to him? why the fuck?

a frown appears between his eyebrows, "but... you're drinking it?"

"yeahh," you chuckle, looking down at your drink then back at the guy in front of you. "i never said i'm not a hypocrite."

your eyes roam all over him, he was impossibly handsome, his jawline sharp, eyes intense, and there’s something magnetic about the way he carries himself. but it’s his tattoos that draw you in. you can’t help but stare at the intricate designs wrapping around his arm, the ink like a story written just for him, each one adding layers to his already intriguing vibe. it's almost as if the tattoos have a language of their own, one you desperately want to understand. you catch yourself before you stare too long, but it’s too late— he’s already caught your eye.

the way you looked at him sends shivers down his spine, the attraction he felt for you at that moment almost made him forget about his plan to choose you as his next victim.

"can i know your name?" your head tilts to the side.

damn it, you were so fine, the way your eyes looked him up and down just seconds ago makes his pants grow a little tighter.

"i'm matt."

you introduce yourself, taking a sip of your drink, his eyes falling down at the way your lips press against the cup. he feels a slight panic at how much his body is starting to react to the sight of you.

"...and i wasn't really feeling like going here, but my friend broke up with her boyfriend, and she clearly needs some support, so how could i just say no? like, i'm not a bad friend, y'know, so of course i came here with her, if that's the least i can do to take her mind off that guy, then...."

you were yapping like crazy, immediately. talking about stuff matt didn't really cared about— he had a feeling you were just talking to talk, but it looked as you enjoyed it as well, completely unbothered by the fact that he's some stranger, you just met.

as you continue to talk, he finds himself staring at you— how perfect you are. the more you spoke, the more his stomach twisted uncomfortably, almost as it was... pity? which was insane, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. he wasn't supposed to feel something like that for a random girl, that would be perfect as his next victim. but damn it, your smile made his insides tighten in a way he hadn’t experienced in... well, ever.

he quickly tries to push the thought aside, trying to focus. you were just supposed to be his next target.

but he could feel the desire taking over his body. no one affected him so fast and so intensely before. matt shifted on his feet, trying to regain his composure, while you changed the topic to how bad the music in the house is and you'd play something better.

he was clearly mesmerized by you— you were kind and sweet, and the longer he stared at you, the more he wanted to hear you say more, to hear your laugh. his face is getting flushed, mind racing as his body reacting to you wasn't the part of the plan. he came here for a reason, he had job to do. it was the first time he's ever hesitated about choosing his next victim.

"...and it was sooo crazy, i always wanted a tattoo, but i just can't bring myself to do it." matt blinked, focusing back on what you were saying, when he felt your fingers on his arm. his heart skipped a beat as he looks down. "did it hurt a lot? i really want one, but i don't know what to expect—"

"no, it's, uh... it's not that bad, really," he mutters, taking a sip of his own drink.

focus.

but the slightest of your touch made his dick twitch.

he was screwed.

right now he wasn't sure he could hurt you— hell, he didn't even know if he wanted to. but he also felt like he has to get away from you as fast as possible, before you notice the visible bulge in his pants.

"oh, really? what is it l—"

"sorry, i have to go," he cuts you off, and with a slight panic leaves the kitchen, a clear confusion on your face as you watch him disappearing in the crowd of people.

but all matt could think of was how desperately he needed a release, and at the same time how you managed to mess with his head in a few minutes.

⸻

matt gave up on choosing a victim for that night. he couldn't bring himself to kill you, when the confusion of how his body was reacting to you kept on him. he had to find a release in the bathroom just right after talking to you, still feeling that light touch of your fingertips on his skin. he felt stupid when, even a week after that party, he was still thinking about you, knowing that you had surely forgotten about a loser like him. he couldn't even talk to you, he was mesmerized by your beauty, by your plump pink lips that he'd love to feel on his, and see if they are as soft as they looked like. the way you looked at him through your long lashes while yapping his ear off. his imagination carried him away, on nights when he couldn't sleep, he wanted to feel your touch again, but in different ways, most likely with your hand wrapped around his dick, while he had his mask on, so you couldn't know his identity. he was sure you wouldn't do anything with him without the mask, so in his mind he only saw himself dressed up as the ghostface, pleasuring you while you trembled beneath him and moaned his name.

no, you couldn't know his name.

he craved you so bad, but he knew you can't know who he really is. so that was a problem.

not being able to take it anymore, he started gaining informations about you, checking your socials and, oh, how beautiful you were.

somewhere in the back of his mind he knew how wrong it was, but he couldn't stop himself. he tried to find out anything that would make him change his perception of you, and make him finally do what he planned to do at the party. however, with each day and each new piece of information, matt became more convinced that you were even sweeter than he thought you were, and that made him lose his mind.

still convinced that he was only doing this to finally make you his next victim, he first started observing you almost two weeks after the party. it started innocently enough, just waiting in his car parked near your house for you to finally go outside, and go do whatever you felt like doing. usually it was meeting your friends at some cafe— which he now knew was your favorite.

one day, he saw a guy approaching you at the bus stop, clearly making you uncomfortable. he explained stalking you as looking for any reason that would help him decide to kill you. and it was getting hard to find it. so instead of you, that man became his next victim. this happened a few times, whenever matt saw someone giving you trouble— he chose to get rid of them instead of you. at some point he realized that he wasn't watching you to finally kill you, but because he couldn't go a day without thinking about you, without craving you. he didn't want to make you scream out of fear, but out of the pleasure he would give you.

one night, when you were at your friends house, and your parents weren't home, he found himself doing something he wouldn't think he would do.

matt stood in the silence of your room, the air thick with the faint scent of lavender. he hadn’t planned on being here. not like this, not without you knowing, but somehow, with the key you thought you 'lost', he found himself inside, as though he belonged.

the door closed softly behind him, the sound swallowed by the stillness. his pulse thrummed in his ears as he looked around, taking in the soft colors of the room, the personal touches that spoke of you, of a life he wasn’t part of but craved to know. a framed picture of you smiling with your bestfriend, carefree, sitting on the edge of your bed. a half-read book on the nightstand, the soft hum of the distant city outside barely reached him here, in this intimate space— your space.

he walked further in, his eyes scanning your belongings like a treasure map, each object a clue to the mystery that was you. his fingers brushed lightly against the soft fabric of your sheets, the touch sending a shiver up his spine. his breath quickened, the temptation to sink into your world overwhelming, the urge to feel closer to you— a closeness that was almost too much to bear.

matt hadn’t meant for this to happen, not for this obsession to creep in. he tried to convince himself, that he's just trying to get to know more about you to finally make you the next victim, but there he was, unable to stop, unable to deny the pull, the ache that consumed him. the walls around him felt smaller now, like the room was tightening in on him, as if it knew what he was doing, knew how badly he needed to be close to you.

the silence felt louder now, the reality of what he was doing crashed over him, but it was too late to stop. the craving for you, for everything you were, wrapped itself around him tighter with each passing second. he was here, and somehow, in this space that wasn’t his, it felt like he was closer to you than he had ever been.

and he got addicted.

not even a week later he returned to your room again, when the house was empty. he made himself a key, now able to walk in and out whenever he wanted. was he a little insane? maybe. did he care? not really.

matt stood at the foot of your bed again, the silence swallowing him whole. he hadn’t planned to return so soon, but here he was, back in the very same room, the key in his pocket a constant reminder of the choices he’d made. his heart pounded in his chest, an anxious rhythm echoing in his ears. he didn’t know what he was looking for.

but he couldn’t stop himself.

the drawer was ajar as he stared at it, the air in the room felt warmer, heavier now, as if it too was aware of what he was about to do. his hands trembled as he reached inside. at first, it was just a slip of fabric— a soft, delicate piece he didn’t recognize. his fingers hovered over it, caught between shame and desire. the fabric was light, soft, and when he picked it up, the smell of you lingered on it—faint but unmistakable.

his stomach twisted in knots. what the fuck was he doing? he wanted to put it back, to walk out, to forget this ever happened. but his mind raced, and his body betrayed him, his dick twitching in his jeans as he holds your underwear.

goddamn it.

matt looked at the delicate lace in his hands, imagining you wearing it. the thought gripped him, suffocating, yet oddly intoxicating. he knew it was wrong— hell, it felt wrong even thinking about it. his breath caught in his throat as the shame spiraled, and for a fleeting second, guilt gnawed at him.

he dropped the fabric back in the drawer and left the room as soon as possible. he was embarrassed doing that.

so next time when he came in into the room again, he had his mask on, feeling much better and more confident now. whenever he was wearing it, it felt like it wasn't him doing that, like it was someone else.

the urge to linger, to be near your belongings, became a quiet, gnawing need. he shouldn’t be here or want this, but he did. he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. he didn't want you to be his next victim— he wanted to hear your moans and fuck you on your own bed, until you can't think straight anymore. he knows he has no chance doing that without his mask— but what would happen with the mask on?

matt walks around, eyes darting around the room, searching for something to focus on. he knew he had no right, but this didn't stop him from putting a small camera in the corner of your room, and then in your bathroom. he was preparing himself to call you soon, slowly tired of craving you and not being able to have you. so he decided to give himself time to know more about you, before finally deciding to speak to you.

he makes sure the cameras aren't visible, his gaze fell again to the drawer, to the clothes you had left behind, and to the things you'd left unseen. his hand hovered near the drawer once more, trembling, but he stopped. he had to stop, this wasn’t right.

you won't know though.

the craving gnawed at him from the inside, and the shame only made the desire grow stronger, and before he could realize what he's doing, he steals one of your underwear, leaving the room as soon as possible.

the next weeks matt spent in the dim light of his room, the soft glow of his laptop illuminating his face, eyes fixed on the screen. your room was laid out before him, the cameras he had hidden allowed him to watch you whenever he wanted. at first, it was just curiosity, the thrill of being close to you, even if you didn’t know it, but it started being more, soon enough he found himself jerking off to the sight of you.

your laughter, the way you moved, the soft touches of your hands brushing through your hair— it drove him wild. it felt like a drug, a constant craving, and each time he watched, the need for you grew, the ache deep inside him became unbearable.

and finally one day he's had enough of just watching.

the temptation, the obsession— it had to stop, one way or another, it was time to speak to you, to finally claim you.

it was time to make himself known.

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs @seluky10 @chriss-slutt @ribbonlovergirl @icrazy106 @izzylovesmatt @trevorsgodmother @sturniolo101 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @bernardsbendystraws

[kaxserlvr]

Im not sure if you write for him but could you write megumi x reader and like a quiet intimate moment between them pls and ty

Synopsis: After a hard mission you feel down until Megumi gives you words of advice

The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. You sat on a crumbling stone ledge overlooking a vast canyon, the stars above reflecting faintly on her face . You stared up at them, your expression distant.

Megumi approached silently, his footsteps soft but deliberate. He didn’t announce himself, but you always seemed to sense his presence.

“You’re not much for sneaking around, are you?” You said without looking at him, your tone light.

“I wasn’t trying to,” megumi replied, his voice as calm and measured as always. He stopped a few feet away, folding his arms as he glanced at her. “You’ve been quiet since the mission.”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the stars. “Guess I just needed some air. Things have been… a lot lately.”

Megumi didn’t reply immediately. He could tell from the way your shoulders tensed that you weren’t just “getting some air.” He hesitated—vulnerability wasn’t his strength—but eventually stepped closer, leaning against a nearby rock.

“I know what it’s like to feel… unbalanced,” he said at last.

You finally looked at him, your eyes searching his face. “Do you? Because right now, it feels like I’m the only one who can’t seem to keep it together.”

Megumi met your gaze, unflinching. “You’re not.”

The sincerity in his voice startled you, and you turned your attention back to the sky. “Sometimes I think about what it’d be like if I wasn’t… this. If I wasn’t a sorcerer, fighting to save other lives —while trying to keep mine” you chuckled bitterly. “Would it make a difference?”

“You don’t know the answer to that,” Megumi said firmly. “And you won’t until you figure out who you really are.”

You sighed, pulling your knees to your chest. “Easy for you to say. You already know who you are—or at least, you think you do.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. “You think I have it all figured out?” He shook his head, his voice quiet but edged with emotion. “I’m still trying to answer the same questions you’re asking now. And I’m still searching.”

That confession caught you off guard. You turned to him again, your expression softening. “Then… why don’t you just stop? Why keep going if it’s so hard?”

Megumis’s dark blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall silent. “Because there are people worth fighting for,” he said simply. “And I think you might be one of them.”

You felt your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the way he looked at you, as though he saw every part of you—the broken pieces, the doubts, and still found you worth saving.

But, as always, Megumi was quick to pull away, his expression hardening once more. “Don’t let what happened control you,” he added, standing upright. “You’re stronger than that.”

“Fushiguro…” you started, but he was already turning away, his stride purposeful and deliberate.

He paused just before disappearing into the shadows, his voice softer this time. “The stars don’t remember what they were before they burned. Maybe you don’t need to, either.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you staring after him, your heart a mix of emotions you weren’t sure you’d could name.

[bitchinbarzal]

Dad | C Keller

-

“Go, Daddy, go!”

Marlee’s excited giggles filled the living room as she bounced on the couch, her tiny Coyotes jersey nearly swallowing her small frame. Her eyes were glued to the TV, her little fists clenched in excitement. It was one of her favorite things—watching her dad play hockey.

You smiled from your spot beside her, sipping your tea, enjoying the moment. These nights had become a routine: just you and Marlee, watching Clayton’s games when he was on the road. It never got easier, not having him home, but seeing how much your daughter adored him made the distance a little more bearable.

“He’s so fast!” Marlee declared, bouncing up and down.

“He sure is, baby.”

But the moment of joy shattered in an instant.

It happened so fast. One second, Clayton was racing down the ice. The next, he was colliding with the boards at an awkward angle, the sickening thud of impact making your stomach drop. He crumpled to the ice, unmoving.

The broadcast cut to a close-up of him, and your heart clenched at the sight of his face twisted in pain.

“Daddy?” Marlee’s voice was small now, unsure.

You barely processed the way your hands trembled as you grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. The commentators were talking—Clayton had gone into the boards hard, wasn’t getting up yet. Trainers rushed onto the ice.

Marlee turned to you, big eyes welling with tears. “Why isn’t Daddy getting up?”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay calm. “They’re just making sure he’s okay, sweetie.”

Marlee wasn’t convinced. She looked back at the screen, her little face crumpling as Clayton still hadn’t moved much.

Her tiny fingers gripped your arm. “Mommy, he’s hurt!” Her voice cracked, and suddenly she was sobbing. “I want Daddy!”

Your heart shattered at the sound.

You pulled her into your lap, wrapping your arms around her tightly. “Shhh, baby. I know. I know you want Daddy.” You pressed kisses into her hair, smoothing her back as her little body shook with sobs. “He’s so strong, Marlee. He’s got lots of people taking care of him.”

“But what if—what if he—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence, her breath hitching.

It broke you to see her like this, terrified, her whole world crumbling because her daddy was hurt. You felt it too—the fear, the helplessness—but you had to be strong for her.

You kissed the top of her head again. “Daddy is the toughest person I know, Marlee. Remember when he got a boo-boo on his arm last year? He was okay, wasn’t he?”

Marlee sniffled, nodding hesitantly.

“This time, it just might take a little longer. But he’s going to be okay.” You hoped your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

Marlee curled into you, hiccuping between sobs as the game went to commercial. “I just want Daddy,” she mumbled into your shirt.

“I know, baby.” You rubbed slow circles on her back. “Me too.”

It felt like forever before Clayton finally texted you.

I’m okay. Sore, but okay. Will call you soon.

The relief hit so hard you nearly burst into tears.

“Daddy’s okay, baby,” you whispered to Marlee, who had finally dozed off in your arms from crying so hard. She stirred at the sound of your voice, rubbing her tired eyes.

Her little head shot up. “Really?”

You smiled and kissed her forehead. “Really. He said he’s sore but okay.”

Marlee exhaled shakily, but the tension in her tiny body eased just a little. “Can I talk to him?”

“Of course, baby. Just wait a little longer, okay?”

And when Clayton finally FaceTimed, Marlee nearly dove out of your arms trying to grab the phone.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Clayton’s voice was soft, and despite the exhaustion in his eyes, he managed a smile. He was already in sweats, sitting on a couch in the locker room with an ice pack strapped to his shoulder.

Marlee frowned, her lip wobbling again. “You got hurt.”

“I did, but I’m okay,” Clayton reassured her. “Just a little sore.”

“But you didn’t get up!” She sniffled. “I was scared, Daddy.”

Clayton’s face softened. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” His voice was thick with guilt. “But you don’t have to be scared, okay? The doctors are taking really good care of me.”

Marlee’s fingers curled around the phone. “Are you coming home now?”

“Not just yet, sweetheart. But I promise I will soon, and I’ll give you the biggest hugs.”

Marlee pouted. “I want a hug now.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from crying again.

Clayton’s voice was gentle. “I know, baby. I do too.”

There was a pause, and then Marlee held up her stuffed animal—her favorite little coyote plush that Clayton had gotten her at a game months ago. “I cuddled Howler all night ’cause I missed you.”

Clayton chuckled softly. “That’s a good idea. You keep cuddling Howler, and before you know it, I’ll be home.”

“Okay…” Marlee’s sniffles were slowing now, but she still looked worried. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You promise you’re really okay?”

Clayton nodded. “I promise. And you know what?”

“What?”

“You made me feel even better just by talking to me,” he said, smiling. “You always do.”

A small smile finally broke across Marlee’s face. “Really?”

“Really.”

She snuggled closer into your arms, finally relaxing. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you more, baby girl.”

Later that night, once Marlee had finally fallen asleep with her coyote plush tucked against her chest, Clayton called again.

“Hey, babe,” you whispered, stepping out onto the balcony so you wouldn’t wake your daughter. The desert air was cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth of your home.

“Hey.” Clayton sighed. “God, that was awful. I hate that she was so scared.”

“She just loves you so much.” You leaned against the railing. “She wouldn’t stop crying, Clayton. It killed me.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I wish I could’ve been there.”

“You did everything you could.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’ll be home soon.”

“I know.”

And for now, that was enough.

Because even hurt, even miles away, Clay was still the best dad in the world.