#Thank you for putting your eyes on this post

[areislol]

hsr!men with a reader who 'stresses' them out to see if they actually like reader that much or not >< HSUDHNS like testing them! kind of. during a post-confession stage where they both kind of know but haven't put any labels on it yet........

AHCK IM SORRY IF THIS IS ODDLY SPECIFIC LOL

pairings. jing yuan, dan heng, blade, welt, sampo, gepard, luocha, caelus, dr ratio, aventurine, boothill, gallagher, moze, jiaoqiu, sunday x gn! reader

warnings. just fluff

a/n. i love this idea sm omg!! this is so cute and adorable, thank you so much for popping in!

wc. 10.6k

synopsis. testing the hsr men to see if they really like you or not...

recommend listening to: blue - yung kai

caelus

✧ caelus is feeling a mix of patience and confusion. mostly confusion.

✧ you’d stress them out by acting overly distant or cryptic with your words. of course, this would be a bit too mean but.... you needed to know whether or not he truly liked you or not!!!

✧  now caelus always has this quiet confidence about him, a grounded presence that somehow keeps you both intrigued and comforted. you’ve been walking the line between friendship and something more for weeks now—soft smiles, lingering touches, and late-night conversations that stretch into the early morning. but neither of you has made the leap to define it, and the uncertainty starts to gnaw at you.

✧ so, you decide to test him. not out of malice, but out of curiosity—does he care as much as you think he does? or are you misreading everything?

✧ it starts small. you "accidentally" forget your jacket during a particularly chilly day on the xianzhou luofu. "it's fine," you say, feigning nonchalance as you rub your arms. "i’ll survive."

✧ caelus, who notices everything, doesn’t hesitate. without a word, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s warm and smells faintly like him—clean and earthy.

✧ "you’ll catch a cold," he says simply, his expression unreadable. but the way his fingers linger at your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary sends a shiver down your spine.

✧ okay, you think. that’s a point for him.

✧ but you don’t stop there. later, as the two of you work together to sort some scattered archives, you sigh dramatically. "i’m so bad at this," you say, even though you’ve already figured out the system. "caelus, can you help me? i think i’m doing it all wrong."

✧ he glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly. he knows you’re capable—you’ve proven it plenty of times.

✧ "really?" he asks, his tone soft but teasing. "you seem like you’ve got it handled."

✧ but he still moves to your side, explaining the process again with patience and care. you can’t help but notice how close he stands, the way his arm brushes against yours.

✧ another point, you mentally tally, biting back a smile.

✧ the final "test" happens that evening. the two of you are sitting on a bench overlooking the bustling streets below. you lean your head back, sighing loudly.

✧ "caelus," you start, your tone heavy with faux melancholy, "do you ever think... maybe we’re wasting our time? like, maybe this—whatever this is—isn’t worth it?"

✧ his head snaps toward you so fast you almost laugh. his usual calm demeanor falters for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his amber eyes.

✧ "what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

✧ suddenly, the air feels heavier. you weren’t expecting such a serious reaction, and it makes your chest tighten.

✧ "i mean..." you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little guilty for pushing him. "i don’t know. it just feels like maybe we’re stuck in this limbo, you know?"

✧ he stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. then, he exhales softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "if you think this isn’t worth it," he says, his voice steady but quiet, "then tell me. but don’t assume i feel the same."

✧ your heart stutters at his words.

✧ "you don’t?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns to look at you again, his expression soft but serious.

✧ "no," he says firmly. "you mean a lot to me. more than you realize. i’m just... waiting for you to figure out how much you mean to me too."

✧ and just like that, the test is over. you realize you didn’t need to test him at all—he’s always been steady, always been sure. it was you who needed the reassurance, and he gave it to you without hesitation.

✧ as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of his coat still draped over your shoulders. you finally let yourself smile, leaning closer to him.

✧ "okay," you murmur. "i get it now."

✧ he doesn’t say anything, but the small, satisfied smile that tugs at his lips says enough.

gepard

✧ poor gepard takes your “test” far too seriously.

✧ (his face falls immediately, and he starts overthinking everything he’s ever done. he’d even try to change his habits, stumbling through awkward attempts to “loosen up.” “i—i can be fun! watch this!” (proceeds to try something clumsy.))

✧ testing gepard’s feelings feels almost unfair. he’s so earnest, so genuine, that you almost feel bad for trying to push his limits. but a little part of you—it’s that gnawing insecurity, that need for reassurance—wants to see how much he’s willing to handle for you.

✧ it starts during a routine patrol around belobog. you walk beside him, pretending to be engrossed in your surroundings, but you’re really watching him out of the corner of your eye. his posture is as perfect as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.

✧ "gepard," you say suddenly, interrupting the calm. he turns to you immediately, his expression softening. "yes?"

✧ you fake a dramatic sigh. "do you ever think you work too hard? like... maybe you’re so busy being a model captain that you don’t have time for other things?"

✧ his brows furrow slightly, clearly not expecting this question. "what do you mean?"

✧ "i mean, what if someone in your life needed more of your attention? would you even notice?"

✧ he stops walking, turning to face you fully. there’s a flash of concern in his blue eyes, and you almost feel guilty for how well this is working.

✧ "if someone needed me," he says, his voice steady but laced with worry, "i’d do everything in my power to be there for them. are you... trying to tell me something?"

✧ you wave your hand dismissively, laughing lightly. "oh, no, just a hypothetical. don’t worry about it." he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and resumes walking, though you notice he stays closer to your side after that.

✧ later, you decide to push a little harder. when the two of you are back at the overworld base, you feign exhaustion, slumping dramatically onto a nearby bench.

✧ "i’m so tired," you complain, rubbing your temples. "today was so stressful. i don’t think i can even move."

✧ before you can say anything else, gepard is already at your side. he crouches slightly, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s not sure whether he should offer to help you up or just sit beside you.

✧ "you should have said something earlier," he says, his voice full of concern. "if you’re overworked, you need to take a break. here, let me—"

✧ you cut him off with a teasing smile. "what are you going to do, carry me around belobog like some kind of knight in shining armor?" he freezes for a moment, his cheeks flushing pink. "i mean... if you needed me to, i would."

✧ you weren’t expecting such a sincere answer, and it throws you off balance. your heart flutters, but you’re determined to keep the act going.

✧ "you’re too sweet, gepard," you say with a grin. "but don’t worry, i’m fine. just testing you a little." his blush deepens, and he shifts nervously. "testing me?"

✧ "yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "just wanted to see how far you’d go for me."

✧ he frowns, clearly conflicted. "you don’t need to test me," he says quietly. "if something’s bothering you, you can just tell me. i’d rather you be honest than try to figure things out on your own."

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you suddenly feel a little guilty.

✧ "you’re right," you mumble, looking down at your hands. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry."

✧ he sighs softly, then sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "it’s okay," he says after a moment. "i just... care about you. a lot. and i want you to know that you never have to doubt it."

✧ you glance at him, his expression as open and honest as ever, and your heart aches in the best way.

✧ "thanks, gepard," you say softly.

✧ he smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine that you know you didn’t need to test him in the first place. he’s always been exactly who he says he is—steadfast, caring, and utterly devoted.

✧ “please, don’t do that again. my heart can’t take it. but... i do care about you more than anything.”

dr. ratio

✧ dr. ratio sees through your “stress test” almost immediately, being as perceptive as he is.

✧ testing dr. ratio feels like trying to rattle an unshakable pillar—he’s sharp, meticulous, and composed to the point where you’re almost certain he’ll see through you immediately. but your curiosity gets the better of you. you want to see if the normally calm and collected doctor could ever crack, even slightly, under your antics.

✧ you decide to start small, choosing to "stress" him out during one of his intense research sessions.

✧ "dr. ratio," you call out from across the lab, your tone light and teasing.

✧ he doesn’t look up from his holopad. "yes?"

✧ "can you explain this to me again? i swear i just don’t get it."

✧ you hold up a tablet displaying a simple analysis you’re perfectly capable of interpreting. it’s the third time you’ve asked him about something today, and you’re sure he’s starting to notice.

✧ he sighs, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?"

✧ "maybe," you say, shrugging. "or maybe you’re just bad at explaining things."

✧ that earns you a sharp look, and for a split second, you think you’ve actually pushed too far. but then his lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.

✧ "bad at explaining things?" he repeats, setting his holopad down. "are you testing my patience, or are you testing my intelligence?"

✧ "both," you reply with a cheeky grin. he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked."

✧ despite his calm exterior, you notice the subtle way he shifts closer to you, his focus entirely on you now. you can’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph, though you know you’re playing with fire.

✧ later, you decide to up the stakes. while he’s meticulously organizing data, you lean against the desk, deliberately placing your hand over one of his charts.

✧ "do you ever think about taking a break?" you ask, tilting your head at him. "you work so much, it’s like you’re married to your lab."

✧ he arches an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to your hand covering his work. "and if i am? does that bother you?"

✧ "a little," you admit, your tone teasing. "what if you end up ignoring more important things?"

✧ he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studies you. "and what would those ‘important things’ be?"

✧ his voice is calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve walked right into his trap. "me, obviously," you say, trying to maintain your confidence.

✧ he hums thoughtfully, as if considering your words. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently flicks your forehead.

✧ "you’re not very subtle," he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

✧ "ouch," you say, rubbing your forehead with a pout. "was that necessary?"

✧ "completely," he replies smoothly. "if you’re going to test me, at least make it challenging."

✧ his words leave you flustered, and you quickly retreat from his desk, muttering something about needing fresh air. but later, when he finds you in the lounge, he sets a cup of tea in front of you without a word.

✧ "what’s this for?" you ask, looking up at him.

✧ "you seemed tense earlier," he says simply. "and since you’re so concerned about me ignoring important things, I thought I’d remind you that you’re one of them."

✧ your heart skips a beat at his casual declaration, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. he smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself, before walking away, leaving you to process his unexpected yet reassuring gesture.

✧ turns out, dr. ratio isn’t so easy to test—but he makes it clear that he’s always paying attention.

✧ however, he sits you down for a serious talk afterward. “you don’t need to test me. i like you—that much should be obvious by now.”

aventurine

✧ aventurine takes your antics in stride but is clearly not one to tolerate nonsense for long.

✧ but in all seriousness it feels like you're trying to move a mountain. his steadfastness and confidence make it seem impossible to throw him off balance, but you’re determined to see how deep his patience and affection run. you tell yourself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, you crave the reassurance that this larger-than-life man truly feels the same way you do.

✧ it begins subtly, during one of his routine mineral inspections. he’s meticulously cataloging a haul of rare crystals when you decide to “help.”

✧ “aventurine, what’s this one called?” you ask, holding up a dazzling gem you already know the name of.

✧ he barely glances up, his deep voice calm and measured. “that’s a starshard geode. its structure is—”

✧ “wait, wait,” you interrupt, turning it over in your hands. “are you sure? it kinda looks like... a moonstone?”

✧ his head finally lifts, and he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “a moonstone? not even close. are you trying to challenge my expertise?”

✧ “maybe,” you tease, placing the gem back in the wrong compartment.

✧ he sighs, but there’s no frustration in his expression, only a patient shake of his head as he moves the gem back to its proper place. “you’re impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

✧ later, you decide to turn up the heat. as he’s polishing a massive chunk of raw celestium, you sit nearby, swinging your legs off the edge of the table.

✧ “aventurine,” you say sweetly.

✧ “mm?” he responds without looking up.

✧ “do you ever get tired of being around me?”

✧ that gets his attention. he pauses mid-polish, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he turns to face you fully. “what kind of question is that?”

✧ you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i can be annoying sometimes. don’t you ever just... wish for some peace and quiet?”

✧ he sets the celestium down with deliberate care and crosses his arms, his imposing figure suddenly feeling even larger.

✧ “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me,” he says plainly, his voice as steady as the ground beneath your feet.

✧ “what? me? no way,” you reply, trying to sound innocent.

✧ he steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with yours. his expression is serious, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

✧ “if i wanted peace and quiet, i wouldn’t be here,” he says firmly. “do you really think i’d waste my time with someone i don’t care about?”

✧ his straightforwardness leaves you momentarily stunned, and he chuckles softly at your silence. “you don’t need to test me, you know,” he adds, his tone softening. “if you have doubts, just ask. i don’t like games, but i’ll always give you the truth.”

✧ you feel a pang of guilt for pushing him, but his reassurance warms your heart. “sorry,” you mumble, looking down. “i just wanted to be sure...”

✧ he reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

✧ “then let me make it clear,” he says, his golden eyes unwavering. “you matter to me. and that’s not going to change, no matter how many gems you mislabel.”

✧ you laugh softly, the tension melting away as his words sink in. it was clear that his affection for you is as solid and enduring as the earth itself.

boothill

✧ boothill is rough around the edges but has a soft spot for you, so your little test catches him off guard.

✧ boothill's unmovable, stone-faced, and never shows signs of cracking, no matter what you throw his way. but that’s exactly why you’re so curious. you’ve seen his stoic side, his professionalism, and his dedication, but does that mean there’s any space for you in that heart of his? you decide to try and test the waters.

✧ it begins in a quiet moment, after a long mission. you’re both back at the base, sitting side by side on a bench. boothill is cleaning his weapon, his focus so intense that it feels like nothing in the world could distract him. you watch him for a moment, then decide to start.

�� “boothill,” you call out softly.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you see his fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he resumes cleaning his weapon.

✧ “yeah?”

✧ “do you ever wonder if you’re too... distant? i mean, you’re always so focused, so serious. don’t you ever need to relax a bit?”

✧ he glances at you now, his piercing gaze meeting yours for just a second. but he doesn’t answer right away, instead just continuing with his task.

✧ “relaxing isn’t exactly something i prioritize,” he replies with his usual calm. “there’s work to be done.”

✧ you scoff lightly, pushing your luck a little. “work, work, work. what about you, huh? when’s it your turn to... i don’t know, enjoy life? have some fun?”

✧ he looks at you then, and there’s something almost unreadable in his expression. his eyes soften just a fraction, and he lets out a small sigh.

✧ “if you think i don’t enjoy life, you’re wrong,” he says, voice low but surprisingly tender. “i just don’t need distractions.”

✧ you press a little more, feeling a mischievous spark inside you. “so, you’re saying you don’t need me to distract you?”

✧ boothill stops what he’s doing for a moment, and this time, he stares at you, really staring. for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. but then he leans back, folding his arms across his chest, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

✧ “testing me, huh?” he says, his voice laced with dry amusement. “you’re a little more persistent than i expected.”

✧ you shrug nonchalantly, hoping your nonchalance hides the fact that your heart is pounding. “i just want to know if you care, boothill. i mean, you’re so... detached sometimes. how do i know it’s not all just professional to you?”

✧ his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches you off guard. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs your hand, pulling it into his lap.

✧ “care?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow, deliberate movements. “i care more than you know.”

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket. the walls he’s built around himself are still there, but now, you realize that inside, there’s room for you.

✧ “you don’t need to test me for that,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring. “just... don’t expect me to show it the same way as everyone else.”

✧ you can feel the sincerity in his touch, in his gaze, and something inside you finally clicks. boothill’s love is subtle, understated, and a little rough around the edges, but it’s real.

✧ “i get it,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “sorry for making you doubt me.”

✧ he chuckles quietly, a rare sound that makes your heart flutter. “you’re relentless. but that’s why i like you.”

✧ and there it is—he may not always wear his heart on his sleeve, but boothill’s love for you is unwavering, and that’s something you can rely on, even if it’s not always obvious.

gallagher

✧ gallagher is as easygoing as they come, but even he has limits.

✧ it starts innocently enough—just a playful attempt to poke at his carefully maintained composure. he’s in the middle of preparing a meal, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filling the air as he moves about the kitchen with his usual precision. you, however, are seated at the table, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

✧ “gallagher,” you start, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

✧ “hm?” he replies, glancing at you briefly before returning to his task.

✧ “how do you always manage to keep your cool? i mean, don’t you ever get tired of being so... well, perfect?”

✧ he doesn’t look up this time, but there’s a subtle shift in the air, like he’s sensing you’re trying to test him. his movements are smooth and measured, and he doesn’t skip a beat as he finishes plating the food.

✧ “there’s no point in losing composure over things that don’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “chaos doesn’t make for a good meal.”

✧ you bite your lip, leaning back in your chair. “so, you’re saying everything has to be ‘in its place’ with you? even with people?”

✧ his hands freeze for just a moment, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—maybe amusement, maybe something else. but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he finishes plating the meal with a soft sigh, setting the plate in front of you.

✧ “i’m not a machine, if that’s what you’re implying,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. “i’m not perfect. i just prefer things to be organized—helps with focus.”

✧ you raise an eyebrow, pushing a bit more. “oh? and does that mean you like it when people don’t mess with your focus? or is that just a ‘you’ thing?”

✧ gallagher pauses, studying you carefully. for a moment, the air is thick with tension, but then he smirks slightly, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes.

✧ “messing with my focus?” he repeats, his voice playful now. “is that what you’re doing? because, if i’m being honest, it’s working. you’ve got my attention now.”

✧ you blink, taken aback by his response. you expected him to brush it off, but instead, he steps closer, his presence a little more imposing now.

✧ “you know,” he continues, his tone lower, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are. but i’ll give you points for persistence.”

✧ you try to recover, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you speechless for a moment.

✧ “persistence?” you murmur, a little breathless.

✧ he nods, his smile softening just enough to show you that it’s genuine. “you’ve got a lot of questions, but i don’t need to play games with you. if you want answers, just ask. you don’t have to test me to find out if i’m interested.”

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you realize that gallagher isn’t someone to hide his feelings. it’s not that he’s cold—he’s just direct. he’ll never say it in the way you might expect, but his actions speak louder than anything else.

✧ “i guess i’m just used to waiting for things to fall into place,” you admit, trying to play it cool.

✧ he leans in slightly, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “you don’t have to wait with me. i’m already here.”

✧ his tone is simple, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes your heart skip a beat. gallagher doesn’t do drama, but when he gives you his attention, it’s clear that he’s all in, no matter how much he might downplay it.

moze

✧ moze is a man of few words, and your antics genuinely confuse him. 😰😰

✧  he's calm, composed, and always so serious, which makes you determined to break through that cold, unreadable exterior. you’ve decided to test his limits, just to see if you can get a real reaction out of him.

✧ it starts on a typical day after a mission. you’re sitting across from him in the common room, watching as he pores over some data logs. your usual routine involves making things just a little more interesting for him, because let’s face it—moze needs to lighten up.

✧ “moze,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you can see the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “what is it?”

✧ you make a show of examining the ceiling, tapping your chin dramatically. “have you ever wondered if the world is actually upside down? like, maybe gravity's all wrong, and we’re just... stuck to the floor by pure luck?”

✧ moze pauses for a split second, probably wondering how you can turn a perfectly normal moment into this. then, without missing a beat, he glances at you, deadpan.

✧ “if the world was upside down, i assume you'd be the one stuck on the ceiling by pure luck,” he says flatly, already returning to his work.

✧ you burst into laughter, but moze doesn’t even flinch, just continues typing, his expression still as composed as ever. he’s like a stone statue, and it’s honestly a little impressive.

✧ “okay, okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “let’s try something different.” you lean forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “do you ever get bored? you know, just sitting there all serious, pretending like you’re too busy to talk?”

✧ this time, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “bored? No. Are you trying to see how far you can push me before i snap?”

✧ you nod, trying not to smile too widely. “yep! How’s it going so far?”

✧ moze lets out a soft sigh, clearly unamused but still managing to hold his ground. “i’m doing great. You, on the other hand... are a handful.”

✧ “a handful? me?” you gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “I’m hurt, moze. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here!”

✧ his lips twitch ever so slightly, but it’s almost imperceptible. “you’re making it interesting... in the same way that throwing a tantrum in a library is interesting.”

✧ you tilt your head, pretending to consider this for a moment. “so, you’re saying you don’t like chaos?”

✧ “i like order,” he says, never looking away from the screen. “but if you’re asking if you can test my patience, then yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”

✧ you giggle, thoroughly entertained by the way he’s handling you. "oh, come on, just admit it. you love the chaos! You secretly think it's hilarious when I mess with you."

✧ moze looks up at you for the first time in a while, his expression still all business but with the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “if by hilarious, you mean mildly irritating, then yes.”

✧ “mildly?!” you gasp in faux offense. “I’m doing my best here, moze! how could you rate my efforts so low?”

✧ he leans back slightly in his chair, finally breaking his stoic routine. “honestly, i’m impressed you’re still going. most people would’ve given up by now.”

✧ “well, i'm not ‘most people,’ am I?” you reply with a cheeky smile.

✧ he smirks ever so slightly, though it’s mostly to himself. “no. clearly.”

✧ you can’t help but giggle, because while moze definitely isn’t as easily rattled as others, it’s clear he’s starting to find the humor in your antics.

✧ “admit it, moze,” you tease. “i’m the most fun you’ve had all week.”

✧ he raises an eyebrow, finally closing the data pad and turning his full attention to you. “if by ‘fun’ you mean ‘annoying distraction,’ then yes.”

✧ you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “you love me, admit it.”

✧ moze chuckles dryly, though it’s far from his usual serious tone. “you’re impossible. But for some reason, i don’t mind.”

✧ “there it is!” you exclaim, pointing dramatically. “the confession! finally!”

✧ he sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness in his eyes now. “don’t push your luck. i’m still not letting you off the hook for the chaos you’ve caused.”

✧ you grin, leaning back in your seat, satisfied. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, moze. get used to it.”

✧ “i’m already used to it,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

jiaoqiu

✧ jiaoqiu is calm and composed, but your “test” slowly chips away at his patience.

✧ his idea of "testing" his patience feels almost like trying to mess with a finely tuned recipe—you know that if you push too far, something could spoil, but you can't resist seeing how he’ll react. the thing about jiaoqiu is that he’s blind, but that doesn’t stop him from being as sharp as a knife when it comes to his senses. especially when it comes to cooking—his true passion.

✧ you’ve noticed something about him, though. the more you “stress” him, the more attentive he gets, in his own way. it’s kind of like the game’s in his favor, and you’re slowly realizing he might be playing right along with you.

✧ one evening, you’re hanging out in the kitchen with jiaoqiu, and you’ve already decided to take your "testing" to the next level. as he prepares some of his signature dishes—no surprise, they're the most complex meals imaginable, even though he can't see a thing—you're doing your best to throw him off.

✧ “jiaoqiu, are you sure you don’t want me to help with that? it looks... dangerous,” you tease, noticing the steam rising from the pot in front of him.

✧ “dangerous?” he repeats, clearly amused but not thrown off. he moves deftly around the kitchen, the sound of his chopping board in the background. “my dear, cooking isn’t dangerous unless you’re trying to make something impossible.”

✧ you laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “so, you’re saying if I started pulling the wrong spices out, you wouldn’t even notice?”

✧ he pauses, then lets out a small chuckle of his own. “i might not see it, but i can certainly smell it. and don’t think i don’t know when you’re reaching for something you shouldn’t be.”

✧ you feign shock, dramatically holding your hands up as if caught in the act. “i would never! i have complete respect for your culinary expertise!”

✧ jiaoqiu hums, as if pondering your words, but then he continues his cooking with that quiet confidence he always carries. “you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have that mischievous glint in your eye.”

✧ your grin widens. it’s clear he’s onto you now, but you still try to push. “well, how would you know? You can't see, after all.”

✧ “true,” he replies calmly, “but i know the sounds of the kitchen well enough. if you were to drop something, or mess with the ingredients... i’d hear it. the rhythm of it all gives me a good idea of what’s happening.”

✧ you blink, stunned. you had been testing him, but jiaoqiu seems to always be one step ahead. how does he know? how can he be so confident?

✧ “and,” he adds, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness, “i know you, [your name].”

✧ you laugh, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you got me. but seriously, how do you do it? how do you know where everything is?”

✧ he pauses his cooking and turns toward you, his voice warm yet full of humor. “let’s say i’ve had a lot of practice. and when you love something as much as i love cooking, you learn to rely on all your senses, not just sight. even when you can’t see, your other senses fill in the gaps.”

✧ you watch him work for a moment, and despite his lack of eyesight, he’s a master in the kitchen. it’s clear that his expertise comes from much more than just the act of cooking; it’s a connection to the ingredients, the textures, the sounds of each step.

✧ “okay, but what if i really messed something up? what if i did something totally wrong, just to mess with you?”

✧ he raises an eyebrow—something that’s only visible through his voice, but you get the feeling he’s smirking. “well, if you did that, i’d probably just end up fixing it before you even noticed. and then i’d make you do the dishes.”

✧ you groan, defeated but also thoroughly entertained. “you’re way too good at this.”

✧ “you’re the one testing me, not the other way around,” jiaoqiu reminds you, returning his focus to his cooking. but this time, you can hear the faint warmth in his tone, a reassurance that’s just for you. “but don’t worry, i’m not going to let you ruin dinner. even if you try to be a little mischievous.”

✧ there’s something comforting in the way he handles it all—the teasing, the games you play, even the mess-ups you deliberately throw his way. he may not be able to see you, but you know he can feel your presence, your energy, and you can’t help but feel safe in it. despite his teasing, despite the quiet confidence, jiaoqiu has a way of making everything feel just... right.

✧ “next time,” you say, grinning, “i’m going to really throw you off.”

✧ jiaoqiu just laughs softly, shaking his head as he finishes up his dish. “i’ll be waiting, [your name]. i’ll be waiting.”

✧  “but uh, next time, just ask me. there’s no need for this kind of... drama.”

sunday

✧ sunday is all sunshine and joy, but even he can get flustered when you start testing him.

✧ sunday is a halovian, with those distinct small fluffy wings nestled around his neck—adorably soft and always twitching with his every mood. you’ve learned that while he might seem all chill and sunny on the surface, he’s got his own quirks, and if you push him far enough, he’s more likely to play along than snap at you.

✧ one day, you’re lounging in the living area, and sunday’s sitting across from you, lazily flipping through a book. you can’t resist; it’s time for some mischief.

✧ “hey, sunday,” you call, trying to hide your grin.

✧ “yeah?” he replies, looking off guard. "have you ever been nervous before? like, nervous nervous?"

✧ “nervous? me? c’mon, i’m practically impossible to ruffle.” he gives you a lighthearted shrug, but you can see the playful challenge in his eyes. he’s used to keeping things breezy, but you’ve caught his attention now.

✧ you press on, deciding to have a little more fun with this. “oh really? well, let’s see... I’ve got a whole list of ways I could mess with you.”

✧ sunday doesn’t seem fazed at first, but you notice the way his fluffy wings twitch a little more with each word you say. it’s like a radar for his mood—you know he’s still calm, but there’s something in the way his feathers ruffle when he’s listening to you.

✧ “well, you’ll have to be a lot sneakier than that if you want to get under my skin,” he says, flashing you that signature grin of his, but now you can see a little spark of competitiveness in his eyes.

✧ you, of course, aren’t backing down. “let’s see if i can. hey, sunday, do you ever get tired of being all... perfect?” you ask, making air quotes around "perfect" with your hands.

✧ sunday’s wings flutter again, and this time, you catch the faintest shift in his posture. “perfect?” he asks, trying to play it off, but there’s a subtle twitch in the fluff near his neck. “you’re really gonna call me perfect? what’s wrong with that?”

✧ oh, he’s biting now. perfect. you lean in, voice teasing. “well, it just seems a little... too easy, don’t you think? i mean, you’re always so relaxed, always in control. how do you even do it?”

✧ you can see sunday’s lips twitch in amusement, and his wings give an exaggerated little flutter, like they’re bristling. he’s definitely aware now, but the best part is how he's trying to play it cool, still acting like he’s the one in control.

✧ “you really think i’ve got it all under control, huh?” he responds, a bit of a challenge creeping into his tone. “well, i guess i am pretty awesome. i mean, who could resist all this charm?” he gestures to himself dramatically, his wings fluffing out like he’s proud of the effect they have.

✧ you laugh, but don’t let up. “oh, i’m sure the charm works, but... do you ever get tired of being this smooth?” you tease, pretending to think it over. “i mean, surely you get a little flustered once in a while, right? just a little bit?”

✧ that’s when you see it—a small, barely perceptible shift. sunday’s wings twitch against his neck, brushing lightly as he tries to keep his expression neutral, but you catch it. there’s a softening in his demeanor, a slight heat creeping into his tone.

✧ “huh. so now i’m too smooth?” he teases, but it’s a little less confident now. “maybe you’re just getting good at finding my weak spots.”

✧ you smile, leaning back triumphantly. “maybe. or maybe you’re just too easy to read, sunday.”

✧ he narrows his eyes playfully, but you catch the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as his wings flutter just a little more. it's like they’re signaling his internal shift—he’s starting to realize you’re not just playing around.

✧ “okay, okay,” sunday says with a dramatic sigh, his wings now fully unfurled behind him like a soft, fluffy halo. he rubs the back of his neck and gives you a teasing look. “you wanna stress me out, huh? well, guess i’ll have to turn the tables a little.”

✧ with that, sunday leans closer, grinning mischievously. his wings brush against his neck again, this time on purpose, causing a soft, tickling sensation that makes you jump a little.

✧ “how’s this?” he asks, and now, you realize—he’s playing his own game. “i think we’re gonna see how you handle me.”

✧ sunday’s easygoing nature mixed with his unexpected turn in this little game makes it all the more fun. as he continues to toy with you, you can’t help but laugh at how well he’s handled your antics.

✧ “alright, alright,” you admit, finally letting the game end, “you win. i’ll stop testing your patience... for now.”

✧ his wings flutter triumphantly behind him as he gives you a mock salute, his grin still wide and playful. “you’re welcome to try again any time, [name]. but you should know—I don’t get flustered that easily. unless...” he pauses, giving you a teasing look, “...you do something even crazier next time.”

✧ you can’t help but smile back. sunday’s laid-back nature might be hard to crack, but it’s clear—he does enjoy the game, and in the end, he’s always up for a little bit of fun at your expense.

jing yuan

✧ jing yuan usually keeps his composure, but when you start “testing” his patience, he begins to crack ever so slightly.

✧ jing yuan is the epitome of calm, controlled elegance. he carries himself like a well-balanced scale, measured in his actions and words, always composed, always unfazed. but when you start testing him that balance teeters, just a little, though he’s careful to maintain his outward serenity.

✧ you know he's a man of patience, but every person has their breaking point—and you're curious to see how far you can push his.

✧ it all starts innocently enough, a bit of teasing and mild mischief on your part. you might "accidentally" misplace his paperwork, or maybe ask him endless trivial questions when you know he’s buried in his work. you’re not being cruel, of course—just playful, testing the waters to see if he’ll falter.

✧ he humors you at first, a chuckle escaping his lips when you ask something particularly silly. “what is it, my dear?” he asks, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his golden eyes never leaving his work. “another question for me?”

✧ but as the questions come one after another, you start to notice a shift. his pen slows, and for a moment, his fingers still. he leans back in his chair, gaze lifting to meet yours.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he says, his voice low, but laced with amusement. “are you testing me to see if i’ll lose interest? because i can assure you, i won’t.”

✧ there’s a sharpness to his tone now, the calm facade slipping just slightly. it's subtle, but you catch it—a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. his gaze darkens with an unreadable emotion, and for the first time, you wonder if you've pushed him too far.

✧ but you’re not one to back down easily, so you keep going, shifting the game into a new gear. you become a little more persistent, trying to get under his skin without being too obvious. you ask more ridiculous questions, throw in more distractions, all in the name of seeing how he reacts. surely, a man like jing yuan, so steady and composed, would get annoyed eventually, right?

✧ you watch him for a long moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. His fingers tap lightly on the edge of the desk, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

✧ "is that what you're after?" he asks, his voice softer, but with a certain challenge in it. "you wish to see how far i'll bend? to see if i can be swayed by such... antics?"

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you wonder if you’ve finally crossed the line. but instead of growing irritated, jing yuan does something entirely unexpected. he sets his pen down with a deliberate motion and stands up, walking around to your side of the desk. his presence looms over you in the most comforting, yet commanding way.

✧ before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “i can’t help but wonder…” he begins, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more affectionate than you were prepared for. “did you think you could test me without consequences?”

✧ you blink up at him, the playful tension suddenly replaced by a sense of vulnerability. there’s something in his eyes now, a deep knowing.

✧ without waiting for an answer, he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “you’re not the only one who can play games, [name],” he murmurs, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ you’re thrown off balance. the tables have turned, and now it’s you who’s feeling slightly flustered. where you were once testing him, now he’s testing you. he’s suddenly more attentive, more affectionate, drawing you in with every word, every touch.

✧ he chuckles softly when he sees your reaction, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “you didn’t think i’d let you have all the fun, did you?” he teases. “i must admit, i’m rather enjoying this.”

✧ you open your mouth to respond, but all you manage is a soft laugh, caught between trying to keep your composure and wanting to give in to the sudden wave of warmth he’s throwing your way.

✧ “alright, jing yuan,” you say, trying to maintain your cool, but failing miserably. “i’ll admit defeat... for now.”

✧ his smile widens, a gentle but confident grin. “defeat? no, my dear. this isn’t about defeat. this is about knowing where we stand. and now that i’ve shown you, i expect no more games.”

✧ his words hang in the air like a promise, and you realize he’s not just testing you—he’s reassuring you, in his own way. with him, you never had to worry about being lost in his affection, because it’s clear: he’s always there, steady as ever.

✧ and just like that, the game you started has ended—only now, it’s more than you ever expected.

dan heng

✧ dan heng is the embodiment of calm and collected. his reserved nature and stoic expression almost never crack, even under the most trying of circumstances. it takes a lot to throw him off balance, which is why you’ve made it your mission to see if you can break that calm demeanor of his—just a little.

✧ at first, you start small. maybe you ask him to help you with something you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself, like reaching for a book you’re clearly just a bit too lazy to grab. you catch him off guard, but as expected, he’s kind enough to help without comment.

✧ “thank you, dan heng,” you say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

✧ he gives you a short, quiet nod, his expression unchanged. “it’s no trouble,” he mutters, though there’s a faint suspicion in his voice.

✧ you smile innocently, but it’s not lost on you how quickly he’s growing aware of your game. so, you keep at it, asking for more and more “help” with things you’re fully capable of doing on your own. every time he obliges, you see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you can almost feel the gears turning in his head as he processes what's going on.

✧ “dan heng,” you ask one day, leaning into the playful tension between you two, “could you pass me the salt?” the shaker’s right in front of you, of course.

✧ there’s a long pause. his gaze flicks over to the salt shaker, then back to you, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. “you’re not really that helpless, are you?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.

✧ you feign surprise. “i’m not? you sure?”

✧ he doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. you can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

✧ “i know you’re not,” he says finally, voice even but tinged with a little irritation now. “so, what are you trying to prove?”

✧ you chuckle softly, realizing you’ve definitely gotten under his skin now. but it’s more out of curiosity than malice—you want to see how far you can go before he snaps, how long he’ll let you test him before he turns the tables.

✧ “oh, nothing,” you say innocently. “just wanted to see if you’d do it without asking questions.”

✧ dan heng’s eyes narrow, and for the first time in this little game, he seems to truly study you, as if trying to gauge your intentions.

✧ “you’re not as subtle as you think,” he finally says, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”

✧ you grin, leaning back with a satisfied look. “maybe... what’s the harm?”

✧ dan heng stands up from his seat, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slowly gathers his things. you know you’ve pushed him a little, but you’re unsure if he’s genuinely upset or just playing along.

✧ “fine,” he mutters. “you want a reaction? here it is.”

✧ you blink as he steps closer, his usual reserved demeanor slipping as he looks down at you with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. “if i didn’t care about you, i wouldn’t even be here, helping you with these ridiculous requests. so, stop trying to push my patience.”

✧ you freeze for a moment, surprised at how direct and blunt he’s being. there’s no anger in his words—just a quiet frustration, the kind that comes from realizing how much you’ve been testing him.

✧ he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe what he’s dealing with. “honestly, i’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to lose my patience or just see how far you can push me.”

✧ you smile sheepishly, knowing you’ve been a little relentless with your “tests.” “i guess a bit of both,” you admit, but there’s a softness in your voice now. “i just wanted to see if you’d care enough to call me out on it.”

✧ dan heng sighs deeply, but now there’s a warmth to his expression that wasn’t there before. he steps closer and places a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch more tender than you expected. “i care enough to call you out, even if it means putting up with your nonsense.”

✧ it’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the sincerity in his words. you’ve definitely ruffled his calm, but in a way that shows just how much he’s paying attention, how much he truly cares for you.

✧ you laugh lightly, not expecting him to be so honest about it, but secretly glad to know you’ve gotten through to him. “i’ll try not to test you so much, okay?”

✧ dan heng shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

welt yang

✧ welt, being the mature and experienced gentleman he is, notices your little “test” immediately.

✧ the man is used to dealing with delicate matters, whether in his long history of research, his time as a historian, or the countless responsibilities that come with leading in times of crisis. so, when you start testing his patience, you know it’s going to take a lot more than a small inconvenience to shake him. that being said, you enjoy challenging him, just a little, to see how far you can push him.

✧ you start off small, of course. asking him the most trivial questions when he’s in the middle of reading one of his ancient books. “hey, welt,” you say sweetly, “do you think this book is boring?” the book’s not even in your hands, and he knows that you’re probably more interested in him than in the actual content of the text.

✧ at first, he doesn’t mind. he chuckles softly and lowers the book, humoring you with a small smile. “if i’m being honest, i would say it depends on your taste in reading. but you do know i can’t really afford distractions right now, right?”

✧ you smile, but this isn’t nearly enough to throw him off. you push again, dropping little hints like the fact that he’s been at his desk for hours on end and could probably use a break. you make a comment about how he’s always so serious, so focused, and maybe you should help him lighten up.

✧ “you know,” you tease, “you work too hard. you should take a break. come on, just for a minute?”

✧ welt sets the book down and looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “i’m not sure if i would call it ‘work’ if i’m doing something i enjoy, but i do appreciate the concern. perhaps you have something else in mind to keep me occupied?”

✧ his tone is light, playful even, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s well aware of your intentions. he’s not the type to get easily upset, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up on your little game.

✧ “you really know how to throw me off track, don’t you?” he says with a smile, clearly amused by your antics. “is this your way of seeing how far i’ll go before i lose my cool?”

✧ you grin, not backing down. “maybe. you seem so calm all the time. i wanted to know if i could make you flinch, just a little.”

✧ welt lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “you’re testing me now, aren’t you? i suppose i should’ve expected as much from you.”

✧ you notice his hands move to the side of his glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly, and that’s when you realize: he’s fully aware of what’s going on.

✧ “you know, it’s cute that you think i’m impervious to distractions,” he continues, clearly enjoying your playful attempts. “but perhaps you underestimate how well i’ve learned to focus in the midst of chaos.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh at that, realizing that no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to make him flinch. he’s too smooth, too used to handling these kinds of things.

✧ “maybe i should stop testing you,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “you’re just too good at staying calm.”

✧ welt smiles knowingly. “i’ve had plenty of practice, but if you really want to test me further, i’m sure there are other ways to do so.” he leans forward, raising an eyebrow, his voice turning just a bit teasing. “but i’m not so easily caught off guard, dear. if you want to see me lose my composure, you’ll have to be a little more creative.”

✧ you blink in surprise at how easily he flipped the situation on its head, and then it dawns on you: you’ve just been outplayed.

✧ he notices the realization in your expression and gives you an amused glance. “now, if you’re really interested, i can give you some advice on how to keep your distractions less obvious in the future. but don’t expect me to fall for it again so easily.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh. “alright, alright, you win this round.”

✧ welt chuckles softly, picking up his book again. “it’s not about winning or losing, but about knowing how to handle what comes your way. and if you ever need a distraction, you know where to find me.”

✧ “but do you know, if you want reassurance, you only need to ask. i don’t play games when it comes to my feelings for you.” my man does NOT play when it comes to you!! 🙅‍♀️ 🙅‍♀️

blade

✧ he is stoic, so basically this feels like poking a sleeping tiger. you’d try to stress him out by being overly affectionate in public or daringly teasing him in front of the stellaron hunters.

✧ blade is a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. so when you start poking at him, trying to get a rise out of him, you know you’re walking a fine line. but that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? to see just how much you can push before he cracks.

✧ it starts with small, playful jabs. teasing him about his stoic nature, of course. you know he’s not the type to express himself easily, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to bring out something more from him.

✧ “blade, do you ever smile? i think i’d faint if i saw it.”

✧ you say it with a mischievous grin, watching for any sign of a reaction. his first response is the usual – a glare that could melt steel. but there’s something else in his eyes, a flicker of something that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. deep down, you know he secretly enjoys your antics.

✧ “you’re really trying to get me to laugh, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and steady, though it has a hint of something playful beneath it.

✧ you push further, though, not willing to let up so easily. “come on, blade. you can’t possibly be that serious all the time. it’s like you’re stuck in permanent brooding mode.”

✧ and that’s when the situation takes a turn. before you can even process it, he grabs your wrist with surprising speed, pulling you close, his voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ “you think i’d waste my time with someone i didn’t care about? don’t test me.”

✧ his words come with an intensity that you didn’t expect, his presence so overpowering that it almost takes the air out of your lungs. you blink, momentarily taken aback, but you don’t back down. the playful teasing lingers in the air, even though you can tell that you’ve crossed the line.

✧ but blade, in his own way, seems to realize that. after a moment, he releases his grip on your wrist, letting out a quiet sigh. the edge of his tone softens, just slightly.

✧ “you’re important to me,” he mutters, his voice low but genuine. “stop doubting that.”

✧ there’s no grand declaration, no flowery words. just the blunt honesty of a man who’s difficult to read, yet in his own way, he’s showing you something far deeper than what words could ever convey.

✧ you watch him for a moment, realizing that, despite all his coldness, there’s a warmth buried deep beneath the surface – one that he’s not so quick to reveal, but it’s there, unmistakable in its own quiet way.

✧ “i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it, huh?” you say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood once more.

✧ blade doesn’t respond with a smile, but the slightest hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. and maybe, just maybe, that’s his version of a win.

sampo koski

✧ sampo loves games, so he immediately plays along with your little “test.”

✧ sampo has always been the life of the party, the one with a smile on his face and a witty comeback ready for anything. so when you start throwing him off with your uncharacteristic seriousness, it’s like throwing a wrench in his well-oiled machine of flirtations.

✧ you don’t laugh at his jokes, you don’t play along with his flirtations, and you certainly don’t give him the usual banter he’s used to. instead, you respond with an almost eerie level of calm.

✧ “oh? no witty comeback today? you’re scaring me, sweetheart,” he teases, leaning back, watching you with an exaggerated frown as though he’s genuinely concerned. you can see the twinkle in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it together.

✧ at first, you don’t budge. you just stare at him, deadpan, giving nothing away.

✧ he blinks a few times, clearly thrown off. then, he lets out a dramatic sigh. “oh no, what’s happening? is this… a breakup? did i mess up somehow? what did i do wrong? i can change! i swear, i’ll stop with the flirtations—i’ll even stop trying to steal your snacks!" he says, eyes widening as though he's on the verge of a crisis.

✧ the way he overacts is so ridiculous that it’s hard to keep a straight face. but you’re committed, your expression still unreadable as you let him stew in the nonsense he’s coming up with.

✧ when you finally can’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh, his entire demeanor shifts. in an instant, his playful grin is back, and he pulls you into a sudden hug.

✧ “sweetheart, if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t stick around this long. but nice try!” he says between chuckles, his voice playful and warm.

✧ you can’t help but smile at his antics. he may act like he’s been genuinely stressed out, but deep down, you know he’s been enjoying every minute of your teasing.

✧ he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. “you really had me going there for a second. but hey, now i know you care enough to test me. i’ll take it as a compliment.”

✧ you shake your head, still amused by his dramatic performance. “don’t ever change, sampo.”

✧ he winks at you, his usual grin returning in full force. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m never going to change… unless it’s to make you laugh more.”

luocha

✧ luocha is patient and gentle, but even he has his limits. you’d try to test him by asking endless hypothetical questions about relationships or intentionally making vague statements about your feelings.

✧ when you start throwing questions his way, testing his patience with doubts about his feelings, you know he’ll handle it with the same serenity he always exudes. but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder if you’re pushing him too far.

✧ “what if someone better came along?” you ask casually, watching his expression for a hint of reaction. it’s a harmless question in your mind, but you can tell he takes it seriously.

✧ he pauses, his hand resting gently on his chin, thinking it through before answering with his usual calmness. “if someone better came along, then you’d deserve to find happiness with them, just as I would wish for your happiness no matter the circumstances.”

✧ his response isn’t what you expected. it’s thoughtful, selfless, and it makes you question your own intentions. but you can’t help yourself – you press on, seeking reassurance in the form of his steady words.

✧ “but what if you don’t feel the same as you did before? what if you find someone who catches your eye more than me?”

✧ luocha’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. there’s no anger in his eyes, no irritation. only concern, as if he’s trying to understand why you would even think such a thing. his voice remains calm, but now there’s a slight edge to it, as if the question weighs on him more than you realize.

✧ “are you trying to test me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough to show he’s genuinely curious. “i hope you know i mean every word i’ve said to you. my feelings are not something i take lightly.”

✧ you’re taken aback, your mind racing as you realize just how much this is affecting him. you weren’t trying to hurt him; you just wanted to see if he truly cared. but now, the weight of your questions hangs heavy in the air.

✧ seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. he reaches out, taking your hand in his, offering you a reassuring smile that radiates warmth.

✧ “there’s no need for doubt,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “my feelings for you are genuine, and they won’t change based on fleeting insecurities. you are the only one i see, the only one i care for.”

✧ his words carry a weight that resonates deep within you, his sincerity undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of relief washing over you.

✧ “i’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed by how far you’ve pushed him. “i didn’t mean to make you doubt how much i care.”

✧ luocha chuckles softly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “it’s alright,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “i know you’re just seeking reassurance. but i hope this is enough to put your mind at ease.”

✧ you nod, grateful for his patience and the depth of his affection. his unwavering calmness and the way he handles your doubts only make you feel even more certain that, with him, you never need to worry about someone else coming along.

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[totalswag]

heyyy can i request angst with drew, maybe they had a fight (totally a misunderstanding bc yk how we get when we’re on our period 😔) and he was just really mean to her, she feels real bad abt and later he apologizes plss 🙏

love your writing!!!

apologies in the after math ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note hi, thank you for your kind words. i hope you enjoy reading lovies. so close to 2k of you all, oh my gosh, i'm so grateful!!

masterlist

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

summary its the time of month and you get overstimulated easily. drew and you have a little argument that leads you two for not talking for a bit till he comes into your shared room.

warning(s) being on your period, crying, arguing, cussing.

You started your period yesterday and have not been in the best. Your mood swings vary every single time during your period⎯don’t know what mood you’ll be. You've been lying on the heating pad since four in the morning⎯You're going through it now. 

The cloudy weather makes you feel peaceful, and you're snuggled up on the couch, watching movies to distract yourself from the cramps. This is your typical routine on your period because you don’t have a lot of energy to do anything in the very beginning.

Drew left the gym around seven in the morning and was heading home. He went with Chase, one of his Outer Banks castmates. He texted you that he was only around the corner from the house.

Drew came to the house, put his stuff down, stepped into the living room, kissed you on the cheek, and asked if you wanted to join him in the shower to ease your cramps.

"Come with me, baby; it will feel good," Drew encourages, kneeling in front of you and leaning forward, reaching, softly caressing your lower back.

Drew does everything he can to ensure your well-being during your period. He despised seeing you in pain and discomfort. He secretly brought you coffee, donuts, and your favorite flowers the last time you were on your period. He also respects your boundaries.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, removing the blanket from your body and folding it before following Drew down the hall to your shared bathroom. 

A few hours go by, you are in one of your negative mood swings. You woke up from an hour nap. Drew and you had a fight⎯the fight began over something pointless. Of course it did. Drew had left his shoes in the middle of the hallway yet again, and as you stumbled over them, something inside you cracked. 

Drew casually dismissed your aggravation with a lazy, "Relax, it's just shoes," lightly chuckling, and you let out a rush of pent-up frustration.

"You're always doing this, Drew! You have no regard for anyone else's space or time. It's like, "Geez, are you even trying?"

His jaw tensed as he put down the drink he was holding. "Are you serious right now?" His tone was cut as a warning. "You're overreacting."

"Don't you dare tell me I'm overreacting," you said, your face flushing. "Maybe if you actually paid attention for once—"

"Fine!" he said abruptly, cutting you off. His voice rose, intense. "Do you want me to pay attention? Fine. But maybe you should quit looking for reasons to start a fight. Not everything is a major issue, you know."

The words felt like a slap. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them, and you fought to let them fall. You stood paralyzed, unable to speak due to the lump in your throat. Drew inhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair and muttering something under his breath.

As time passed you didn’t say a word to Drew—both of you were quiet. You stayed in your shared bedroom scrolling through tiktok. Drew was somewhere in the house doing something.

There was a soft knock at the door, "Hey," Drew said, hesitantly and quietly.

You didn’t answer. Part of you wanted to stay stubborn, but the crack in his tone made your resolve falter. 

The door creaked open, and you could hear his cautious feet. "I'm sorry," he added, bringing his voice closer. "I should not have spoken to you like that. "I didn't mean it."

You peered out from beneath the cover, seeing his sorrowful gaze. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his hair was ruffled, as if he had raked his fingers through it in irritation.

"I was out of line," he added, crouching near the bed. "I just lashed out." That is on me."

Drew continues to explain he was even more out of line knowing you are on your period and you have these little moments where you aren’t in the best of moods. He was validating your feelings, putting the blame on himself. However, you shouldn’t react that way to begin with.

The honesty in his tone made your throat clench.

"I'm sorry, too," you said quietly. "I didn't intend to provoke a fight. "I just..." I've been feeling lousy all day and took it out on you. "I should not have done that."

Drew shook his head softly. "No, do not do it. You are free to express how you feel. "I just want to be better for you."

He grabbed your hand and lovingly squeezed it. "Will you come out with me? "I have something to show you."

Curiosity got the best of you. The wonders of what he has for you. Was he doing something to make up for the altercation? So many things running through your mind. 

When you entered the dining room, your breath hitched. The table was set with your favorite dinner, and candles flickered softly in the dark lighting. An arrangement of your favorite flowers was placed in the center, their beautiful fragrance filling the air.

"I know it doesn't erase what I said," Drew replied softly, caressing the back of his neck. But I wanted to make it up to you. You mean everything to me, and I detest the thought of you thinking I don't care,” wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your cheek a few times.

Your eyes welled up again, but this time with glad tears. You hugged him firmly and buried your face in his chest.

"Thank you," you replied softly. "This means everything to me."

He kisses the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you. "You mean everything to me," he said quietly back.

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[probablyreadinsmut]

The Cooldown.

One shot.

Pairing: Boyfriend! Joel Miller x Mid/Plus size Afab!Reader

Pictures used are just for reference purposes, you are the lucky gal in this fic

Summary: Your boyfriend can't resist offering you a little post workout fun. Completely inspired by those pictures of Pedro from yesterday.

This one goes out to all my thigh riding girlie's (gn) <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Established relationship, AU no outbreak, Mentions of being body conscious in the past, vague descriptions of being fuller figured nothing specific though, sweaty post gym thigh riding, Praise, dirty talk. Undefined legal age gap. Spanking.

Not beta'd and probably not proofread very well, putting the disorder in adhd, as ever. ✌️

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

“C���mere baby” Joel’s patting his thick thigh with a lecherous grin on his face as he’s watching you peel off your gym wear, the damp nylon is sticking to every inch of you.

You respond with a soft snort “What do you mean come here? Joel, I feel gross. That work out nearly killed me today.” It had been his idea to start going to the gym together, another ‘couples bonding’ experience he’d said. He was big into that kind of thing, but honestly you were pretty sure it was so he could watch your tits and ass jiggle, he thought he was slick.

“Do I look like I care darlin’? Get that beautiful ass over here and ride my thigh, c’mon...” It’s a command and an invitation all in one, your boyfriend of two years knew what he wanted, he’s never sugar-coated it and that horny, feral part of your brain loved that about him.

So, you shuck off your sports bra over your head, tossing it into the hamper. You can feel the sweat that had collected beneath the material was now running down your sternum, trickling to your belly button. You’d already be in the shower if you were alone, but these days doing anything alone is a huge feat in itself where Joel is concerned. On the days he’s not working, or when Sarah is at school, he’s with you, making the most of your time together. Usually naked.

You watch as his once brown eyes go almost completely black with desire, pupils blown wide, the bulge in his sinfully short shorts is impossible to ignore. You’d tease him a little more if you weren’t so fucking turned on. Maybe a joint session at the gym had been for both his benefit and yours. He’d been eyeing you in your figure hugging leggings and tight little sports bra while you’d been ogling his thighs and ass the whole time.

You should have known that once you made it back to your place, you’d both be spending the rest of the day engaging in a more horizontal form of exercise.

So you tug off your leggings, shimmying out of them as you take your panties off with them, his eyes never leave you for a moment, his gaze is both predatory and appreciative. You’re his. Every day he thanks his lucky stars for that.

You put on a little show for him as you strut towards the bed where he sits, his thighs parted wide, leaning back on his palms. Your hips shake hypnotically with every step. Before Joel, you hadn’t loved your body that much, but now with the way he worships every dip and curve, whether it be with his eyes, lips, tongue or fingers, now you love your fuller frame. Gone are the days where you’d be covering up in t-shirts that swamped you at the gym, you were beautiful and you didn’t feel the need to hide any more.

You lower yourself onto his thick thigh, more defined these days, he’d said a while ago that he wanted to stay in shape now he was getting ‘older’, if not for his sake then for the sake of his babygirl and you were more than happy to support him, they way he supported you in everything you wanted to achieve.

“That’s it” He coos, leaning back just pinning you with a stare that has you melting already “Fuck darlin’ look at you, pretty as a picture. Y’look good just like this...”

You preen under his praise, a little giggle leaving you as you plant your hands on his broad shoulders and start to glide along his thigh, the ridges and hairs tickle your clit just right. “Maybe we just skip the gym next time... Stay home and fuck all day instead?” That earns you a sharp spank, making you gasp, soothed by his thick fingers pawing at the fleshy part of your cheek. It’s a sweet sting that’s left there, one you know has probably left a red mark, one that has your cunt clenching around nothing nonetheless, dribbling onto his naked thigh.

“I could spend all day in this pretty little pussy, y’know that” His hands come up to your hips, kneading the soft flesh under his fingertips “But there’s just something about you... All hot and sweaty out in public that makes my motor run baby... maybe next time y’let me fuck you in the locker room huh? Stay nice an’ quiet for me while I bend you over one of those benches? That sound good sugar?” he’s guiding you now, pressing you down harder against his thigh, urging you to roll those gorgeous hips of yours.

With a breathy moan you nod and he spanks you again, the slap echoing throughout the bedroom.

“Use your words sweetness, need t’hear you say it.”

You feel your release quickly creeping up on you, his thigh is getting slicker by the second. You grind yourself deeper agaisnt his thigh with his guidance giving your swollen little clit all the attention she so desperately needs. “Yes! Fuck baby- P-please next time... N-next time fuck me just like that...”

He can feel you tensing up on top of him, he can hear the little hitches in your breath all the subtle cues that tell him you’re about to make a mess on his thigh.

“That’s it darlin’ just like that, keep goin’.. Fuck... After this we’re gonna go take a shower together and I’m gonna bury my cock so deep inside you, that you won’t know where you end and I begin... Gonna make this tight little pussy sing for me” His jaw is set and tense as he grits his teeth, urging you to move faster, you look between the two of you seeing his cock straining painfully against the stretchy fabric of his shorts, begging to come out and play.

You throw your head back, nails digging into his taut flesh as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave of pleasure. The deep, filthy groan that leaves him as he watches you fall apart is one that will be engrained in your memory for years to come.

His thigh is soaked, he can feel it running down his knee and he fucking loves it. Your cries of ecstasy are just dying down when he releases his grip on your hips and helps you up onto your feet, holding you upright since you’re knees are buckling like a deer taking their first steps.

He’s guiding you towards the ensuite when he ducks his head down to drawl in your ear “C’mon baby, let’s get you all cleaned up so I can make you dirty again”.  

Tags: @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @syd-djarin @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @guiltyasdave

[ofbatsandballads]

please take this. I made myself cry writing it and I have nothing to say except that putting ya’aburnee and darling by halsey on my jason playlist was a brutal choice. also look up flower language if you want additional feelings.

There’s so many things you want for Jason Todd.

You want him to get a good night’s sleep for once. You let him close his pretty seafoam eyes and lay his head in the crook of your neck as you scratch gently at his scalp. It always calms him down, grounds him in the here and now. Your arms around him, your fingers carding through his hair, the rise and fall of your chest that’s synced with his–it all reminds him that he’s safe, that he’s home. You want that feeling to follow him into his dreams, to let him find true rest. So when his body goes tense and his breathing gets labored, you hold him closer and hum gently into his ear until whatever haunts him in his sleep is chased away by the comfort you bring.

You want to make sure he’s protected. You wish you could deflect every hit, blade, and bullet away from his body. You wish he would see his body as something worth protecting. He would stop if you asked, would settle into a normal life as best as he could. You would never ask because to do so would be to deny the part of him you love most: his heart that beats to help others. So you protect him in the ways that you can. You stitch cuts and treat burns, you mend his jackets and help clean his guns. More than anything, you guard his peace of mind like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. You’re never cruel to him, never scream vicious words or toss him out into the cold night. You call Bruce and thank him for the first edition Jane Austen novels that arrived on your doorstep on August 16th when Jason just…can’t. You let him grip your hand brutally tight under the table when you go to the manor for Thanksgiving for the first time. And when it gets really bad? When he feels the burning of green waters that breathed life into him that he didn’t want, when hideous laughter echoes in a place it’s never been? You do something no one has ever done for him. You wait. You stay. You stay by his side until he can breathe again, until dawn breaks and he can see the light again. And always, always you, haloed in it like an angel he doesn’t think he deserves. He does.

You want him to have a good cup of hot chocolate. He told you about it once when he came home after a long winter patrol. Half delirious from exhaustion, he reminisced about how Bruce would make them both a cup of hot chocolate after particularly rough or successful patrols in December. How this specific hot chocolate had no equal—even Alfred couldn’t replicate the richness and warmth. You noticed the fondness in his voice, the longing so intense that it still makes your heart ache for him. So you do some light stalking and hunt down Tim Drake, demand that he give you the information you want or else you’ll disclose how he really lost his spleen to Bruce (why he was dense enough to tell Jason, you’ll never know). And that is how Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist single father and the Batman, receives an email with the subject line “URGENT: Recipe Request” that reads as follows:

To whom it may concern,

I have been made aware that you have a remarkably compelling hot chocolate recipe that is hitherto unparalleled by cafes, franchises, and butlers alike. I am emailing you to inquire about my being sent this recipe post-haste. This is less a request than a demand. I will do my best to ensure that you, at some point in time not specified (it will take great effort on my part), are able to witness the consumption of the hot chocolate by the individual that will be receiving the product of the recipe.

Best regards,

Someone who loves your son.

Bruce sends the recipe the second he receives the email. He has to sneak his phone under the conference table at the Wayne Enterprises board meeting to do it, but he still manages to reply in two minutes and forty-seven seconds. And you make good on your promise. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jason shine as brightly as he does that Christmas, lit up by the lights on the twelve foot tree as he sips his hot chocolate from the same red mug that’s been sitting in the kitchen cabinet since he last drank from it. The matching black mug is clasped in the hands of the hot chocolate connoisseur himself, who smiles softly like the magic of the season has returned to his life for the first time in ages.

You want him to heal. It’s a big ask; you know that. But you’ve never been one for giving up hope, and if anyone can manage to achieve the impossible, it’s Jason. So you tell him it’s a great idea when he jokes about getting a therapist. You wait for him in the car the first time he goes and you let him open up to you in his own time when he comes out of the appointment body tight as a bowstring and eyes bloodshot. You watch quietly and celebrate the little victories you see him win. He can call his father first now; he doesn’t do it often, but he can. He can talk to his younger brother without hating his hands and the blood that’s been spilled on them, without going out on patrol and intentionally letting all the worst hits make contact. He can go out to lunch with his older brother and his youngest, can laugh with them over that ridiculous thing Bruce did at a gala once to make them all laugh. He can bear his birthday a little bit better now, can accept the cake you bake and actually make a wish when he blows out the candles. But you’ll never know about the moment that you start to get what you want. Jason goes to visit his own grave on the anniversary of his death and finds a bouquet of red carnations, baby’s breath, and honeysuckle with a note in your handwriting that reads “Someone told me once that you were magic, that that was the best thing about you. I think it’s far more important that you were loved. I don’t know what you could’ve been. I don’t wonder about it like those that loved you did because all I know is who you became. He’s wonderful. He’s still magic. I think you’d be proud of him. I’ll do my best to take care of him for you.” He sits there for an hour in tears. Then he takes one bud of each flower and the note, goes home and presses them into the pages of his favorite book. He holds you in his arms in bed that night and feels, for the first time in a long time, a sense of peace down to his very bones.

You want—above all else—Jason Todd to feel loved. You want him to feel so cherished and wanted that he cannot possibly look at himself without realizing that he is something precious, something beloved. So you tell him that you love him and you accept his warm embrace as his way of saying it back. You make him chocolate chip cookies and sneak one into the pocket of his tactical pants when he goes on patrol (they’re soft, they don’t get crunched when he’s thrown from a roof). You read his favorite books to understand what he’s saying when he goes off on tangents about class and social hierarchy and how they governed life in the 19th century. You trace his scars and kiss away his tears when he can’t believe that he could be transformed from a being marred by brutality into a man revered with gentleness. You will love him until the day you both die. You will love him in death, until whatever atoms made up you and him come together again. You will love him until everything that ever is or ever was ceases to be in a supernova of light. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll love him in whatever is born after.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 12 - The End

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 12 of 12!

They were alone. Just the three of them.

Colette had never felt so exhausted in her entire life. But she had also never been so happy. Charlie had been fed once more and had then fallen back asleep, curled up on her father’s chest. Colette herself could barely keep her eyes open.

And she should be sleeping, but she could only watch her daughter curled up against Max's chest.

"How did we manage to create something so perfect?" She asked him softly.

Max let out a tired little huff of laughter, not bothering to open his eyes. “She is perfect, isn’t she?” he murmured quietly.

Colette felt a smile tugging at her face. “Perfect and absolutely beautiful,” she agreed quietly, shifting a little to get a better look at the two of them. "So perfect it almost hurts to look at her."

Max smiled at her. "I...There is this thing you should know," he said hesitantly.

Something about his tone, the hesitance in his voice, made Colette pause. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

"I may have told the whole world about us? On Instagram?" he admitted with a grimace.

She could only snort at that. "I think your father made sure that that cat was out of the bag," she told him drily. "What did you say?"

"That we have been a couple for 15 years. That I couldn't be happier with you and our little family," he said simply. "I wanted everybody to hear our truth," Max said softly. "Not what other people write."

"There is a romantic inside you after all," Colette teased him softly.

"You aren't angry?" Max checked.

Colette sighed. "Not at you," she said simply. "I can't be angry at you. You just want people to know how happy we are together. We kept it quiet for years for me," Colette said, staring at her daughter. "Is it weird that it feels like she put everything into perspective?" she asked him, nodding towards Charlie. "I just...I don't care anymore,” she admitted.

Max stared at her, blue eyes wide, but Colette just shrugged. “I was terrified for so long what people were going to think about me once they knew about us...but now...I don't care. What does it matter?"

Max reached over and laced his fingers through hers. "It doesn't," he promised her. "I'll start screaming it from the rooftops tomorrow, if you'll let me."

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "I think the media already knows," she teased, squeezing his hand. "We can just put my Instagram on public and let them eat their heart out," she suggested. It wasn’t meant seriously. Not really. 

But the more she thought about it, she wondered if that was what it was going to take. Opening up the digital scrapbook of her life. Letting anybody have a peek at their relationship. Hoping that finally they would understand.

"We'd break the internet," Max retorted, grinning at her.

Colette laughed. "We really, really would. Reason enough  to do it?" she teased him.

"And give my PR team a heart attack? Absolutely,” Max returned immediately. “Tell me when.” 

"I love you," she told him seriously. "And I am ready to love you in public too."

She had done it from the shadows for 15 years after all.

He stared at her. "Are...Are you sure?"

"I am very, very sure, mon coeur," Colette told him softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "The only opinion that matters to me is yours - and my family's. I don't care what anyone else thinks," she added, glancing down at Charlie again, who slept blissfully on, cuddled against Max's chest.

"If people want to call me an attention whore or a gold digger, they are welcome to it," Colette said quietly. "I don't care. I'm happy and you're happy and our baby is happy. Let them write whatever they want."

***

"Marry me," Max blurted out.

His words came out of his mouth before he had even realised what he was saying. The room suddenly became very quiet, as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of it, and Max suddenly realised that he had just blurted out the question he had been meaning to ask for months, at a time that couldn’t be further from ideal.

Colette was staring at him, her eyebrows raised and a look of surprise on her face. She seemed frozen and totally caught off guard by his question. And he didn’t blame her for that. She was exhausted, and had just given birth, and here he was, bombarding her with questions as if this was the perfect moment to do it.

But then she smiled at him. 

"Yes," Colette said simply. "Always yes. You know that.”

Relief surged through him so strongly, Max thought he might just about collapse. She had said yes.

Granted she had said yes the last time as well. 

He remembered that day like it had been yesterday…remembered coming home that May evening in 2016…Fuelled with adrenaline from his first “proper” win. Remembered the trophy that still had a place of pride in their living room…the bottle of champagne, the Pirelli cap…and the ring that he had bought after that race. The celebratory crepes for breakfast the next day where still a tradition they kept with. 

Max felt like he could have exploded there and then, just from happiness. He couldn’t believe that he had just asked her, that she had just said yes. It didn’t feel real. It felt like something out of a dream.

"Yes?" he repeated incredulously, just to make sure he hadn’t actually dreamt it. "You’ll marry me?"

"Properly this time," she teased him, with the most beautiful smile on her face, as she leane up to press a kiss against his lips. “I’ll marry you, Maxie.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, the sound breathless. It wasn’t just exhaustion that made him sound like that, it was disbelief, a sort of giddy lightness.

"Properly this time," he echoed back to her, his words soft. "You’ll marry me properly."

He couldn’t actually believe she was saying yes. "I do have a ring," he assured her. "It's at home. I hid it in the trophy."

Colette laughed. "Of course, you hid it in the trophy," she repeated, her voice warm and amused."Of course you did."

Max gave her what he hoped was at least a resemblance of a sheepish look. “Where else would it be safe?” he said defensively. "And I know you wouldn't look there," he added.

"A perfect place to hide something you don't want me to find," Colette agreed.

Max grinned at her. "Exactly," he said happily, gently brushing her hair from her face.

"Which trophy?" she asked him seriously.

"Spain 2016," he answered honestly. His first one. The one. 

"You hid it in the 2016 trophy?" Colette repeated, her smile widening into a grin. "Really?"

"Just felt appropriate,” he answered honestly. He still remembered handing it to Colette for the first time, the ring that he had bought clanging around in the bottom of it. 

"It is," she agreed softly, leaning up to press a kiss against his lips.

Max smiled against her mouth, his arms tightening around her, pulling her a little closer. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He couldn’t believe he had just blurted out the one question he had been wanting to ask for ages, and she had actually just said yes.

"You’re really going to marry me," he mumbled against her mouth, unable to help the words. "You’re actually going to marry me."

"I had your baby, but this is what shocks you?" Colette asked him with a laugh. 

He laughed, pulling her closer again and nuzzling his face into her shoulder, her words causing him to blush faintly. “I love you,” he mumbled against her skin quietly.

"I love you too," she echoed back quietly. "And yes, I will marry you. As many times as you’ll ask."

"I am the luckiest man in the whole world," he said softly.

"No, I’m the luckiest," she told him gently, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close again. "To have you, and this, and Charlie, and all of it. It’s everything I ever wanted.”

[pomefioredove]

omg i LOVE the concept of cookies as asks so can i have a sugar cookie, #8, with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows thank yeww 🙏

t-t-total idia victory!

order #8, sugar with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ internet connection

tropes: ex (mutuals) to lovers, roommate au characters: idia additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

It was the closest experience to dating Idia had ever gotten, and likely the only experience he'd ever get again.

Three months.

Three perfect, blissful months.

That's 13.0357 weeks, 91.2501 days, 2,190 hours of chats, voice calls, and texts with someone he had almost considered his.

He was raising his confidence stats to ask them out when they sent him a message, which would be their last:

"router busted. sry. will get it fixed soon"

That was weeks ago.

Idia couldn't blame them. They were going to get tired of him eventually, and ghosting him, sucky as it was, was still the easiest way to let him down.

Then, at least, he could pretend that they were telling the truth.

"Come on, Idy! This is your chance! You'll never get over them if you never meet anyone else!"

Ortho's cheery, hopeful words twist Idia's stomach with guilt. He knows that. Of course he knows that.

He buries himself deeper into his blankets. "I don't want anyone else,"

"It's only for a few weeks. Maybe you'll make friends!"

Unlikely. Idia doesn't have the social XP for that. Who would want to be friends with him, anyway?

He can't even keep Magicord mutuals.

Then again, he has no other choice.

The Prefect had asked to stay somewhere with a high-speed internet connection while post-S.T.Y.X. Ramshackle was being repaired, and Ortho had volunteered Idia.

And his room.

Ugh. Why can't anything go right for once?

Idia hides under his covers like a small child, drowning the sound of the door and voices in PreMo.

He honestly doesn't know a lot about you. He doesn't get out much, and even if he did, you've always got those OP normie friends around you.

He knows you don't talk much. He's actually never heard you talk at all.

Whatever.

Idia only emerges from his blankets when his ears are ringing from the music and his body is sore from stillness.

He takes off his headphones and reads the room.

There's Ortho, projecting a beam of light on the wall, and there's Grim, chasing it, and there's you.

You seem a little out of place, awkwardly sitting on the floor when there are chairs and tables, your bags still at your sides, unpacked.

Something about you makes him feel at ease. Weird.

"Oh- Idy!" Ortho chimes. Idia jumps, and then everyone is looking at him. Crap.

"We were wondering when you'd come out! The Prefect has a question for you!"

You give Ortho a panicked look, as if to say you most certainly did not have a question for him. Idia has his own suspicions.

"About the Wi-Fi," Ortho chimes. "They really need to get online."

Idia narrows his eyes. His brother can handle something as simple as that.

"...O-okay," he mumbles. "I guess."

He reluctantly gets out of bed and sits beside you. At least with an objective, he isn't so nervous. You hand him your phone, some sad secondhand thing, and he puts in the password for you.

"Lemme know if it's slow. I've been working on upgrading the router, and it's been a little laggy," he hands your phone to you.

"Shouldn't be a problem, though."

You take it. "I can't complain, I don't have a router at all right now,"

Idia's face turns red.

His eyes go wide.

He can't place it, at first. What's that weird feeling? What is it about you-

You notice his expression. "Uh... did I say something?"

And when you speak again, just like that, Idia jumps to his feet.

"IT-IT'S YOU!"

"You?" Grim asks.

"You?" Ortho echoes.

"Me?"

Idia feels like he's losing his mind, his anxiety cracking and breaking away, shock taking its place.

"Y-yes, you! I know that voice! Don't you- you recognize mine too, don't you?!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh... no... no way,"

"I-I can't believe this!" he says, suddenly grinning. "You weren't lying about the router, it must've got totally busted when S.T.Y.X- oh, crap. IT'S ALL MY FAULT!"

"Idy..." Ortho warns. "Your heart rate is-"

"I know! I know, I just- I can't believe it- you, of all people,"

He sits again, shaking. It takes you a moment to catch up.

"I... I wasn't lying," you mumble. "I've been trying to get a decent internet connection since we got back, but..."

"This is the guy?" Grim mumbles to you. He is ignored.

Idia feels lightheaded. This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is some weird dream.

He can't seem to stop grinning, anyway.

"Will you go out with me?!" he asks, without thinking at all. But not even the sinking feeling in his stomach is enough to ground him.

You stare back, your own eyes wide.

And then, in your familiar voice, in your familiar easing presence: "I'd like that,"

[midnighvtm4ss]

Oh you sweet, poisonous thing

summary: just Arthur yearning and being jealous of reader and Javier. Enjoy😽

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

content: fluff, jealousy, a hint of angst maybe ?? idk

wc: 1,8k

a/n: *taps into the mic* heyy,,, how y’all doing *voice echoes, crickets can be heard in the distance* so i kinda disappeared from tumblr ik. I went through a rough period and I thought a lot about what to do with this account. I lost all motivation to write for a while ngl, but after some thinking i decided that no matter what I’ll keep writing and posting here. After all this was and still is my little safe space where i can just forget about my life and post silly things about cowboys sooo yeah have some Arthur yearning because we should bring back yearning in 2025. ok i yapped enough bah byee

The cracking sound of the campfire travels softly in the center of camp, casting long, flickering shadows that stretch and shift over the familiar faces of the gang, dancing on their features to the sound of the soft music leaving Javier’s guitar.

It had been a rare, uneventful day—the kind where, surprisingly, nothing went wrong, and the world seemed to hold its breath afraid to burst the serene and quiet bubble that engulfed all round the camp. The stillness settled over the gang’s members like a balm, soothing old wounds and lifting everyone’s spirits. By evening, an easy carefree air had taken root, boosted by a few shared drinks and Javier’s guitar.

You sit near the fire, sandwiched between Karen and John, the blonde slouched lazily at your side, her cheeks flushed from the too many whiskey glasses she downed. Javier is in a contagious good mood, sitting on the ground near John strumming another lively tune as he leans toward you, his bronze skin glowing in the campfire’s light and he’s grinning like at you like the charmer he is.

“Why don’t you sing with me, cariño,” he says, his voice playfully teasing. A chorus of groans and exaggerated complaints come from around the campfire, the gang all too eager to tease you about the first and fortunately the last time you sang around the campfire in Horseshoe Overlook after you had too many to drink. You remember waking up the morning after with a terrible headache and the sweet memory of laughter shared around the warmth of the campfire.

You laugh at their reaction, shaking your head. “I think I’ll save everyone’s ears this time, thank you.”

Javier chuckles and with that resumes playing, his voice low and smooth. His energy is infectious, pulling easy smiles and a few soft laughs from everyone. But in the back of your mind, you can feel that there’s a subtle shift in the air—a pull, a presence that tugs at your attention like a ping you can’t ignore. It’s faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows stronger, undeniable, familiar. You glance toward the edge of camp, and as suspected there he is.

He’s leaning against one of the wooden posts near the horses, half swallowed by the shadows, the dim firelight barely reaching the brim of his worn hat. His broad shoulders are hunched, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he’s trying to protect himself, to keep something away though you’re not sure he even knows what it is. His aqua eyes are sharp even in the shadows, and they’re fixed directly on you.

As the weight of his gaze settles over you like a heavy fog, thick and tangible, despite the distance between you, a shiver runs down your spine. Your chest tightens, as if the very air around him has thickened with unspoken things.

You’ve known him long enough to feel a quiet storm building in the depths of his quiet, unshakable composure. It’s not indifference nor anger. It’s something else—something raw and unspoken but you can’t, and maybe won’t, put a name on it.

When Javier nudges you playfully, you force yourself to focus back on him, offering him a smile that you hope conceals the tension swirling inside of you. Still, the weight of Arthur’s gaze doesn’t leave you, not even as the evening stretches on.

As the night deepens, the fire crackles low. One by one, people begin to drift off, leaving just you, Tilly, Lenny, Javier, and Karen around the fire. Tilly, who had joined your little circle a few hours earlier, is lively chatting with Lenny about some gossip she’d overheard in town, her voice bright with excitement seemingly unphased by the late hour. Meanwhile, Karen has fallen asleep with her head resting on your shoulder, undoubtedly drooling a bit on your blouse. This leaves you and Javier alone, the conversation between you two flowing easily, until he eventually sets his guitar aside with a stretch, breaking the comfortable atmosphere.

“Already going to bed ?” you tease, nudging him gently on the side. “Won’t you play me another song before you go to sleep ?”

He smirks, shaking his head with a wink.

“Tomorrow.” He promises winking at you. He stands up and disappears into the shadows of the night. After a few minutes Karen stirs awake, mumbling something about needing another drink before bed, lazily getting up on her feet, shuffling toward the camp’s supply.

After that it’s just you, Tilly and Lenny sitting near the dying fire. From your peripheral vision you can see the dark silhouette of Arthur sitting at the worn wooden round table under the tall tree in camp. You don’t look at him, not directly, but you feel his presence like a thread pulling between you. You sit there, looking at the fire contemplating if approaching him or calling it a night.

When you finally stand, your feet move before your mind can catch up with your actions. You carefully walk towards him, finding him hunched slightly over the table, his broad shoulders tense as he stares down into the nearly empty glass in his hand.

“Mind if I join you ?” you say pausing a few feet away. The sound of your voice softly filling the cold air around you both.

Arthur doesn’t immediately look up, his focus still fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. You nearly contemplate leaving when after a long moment, he tips his head in a slow, deliberate nod. “Suit yourself.”

You take a seat across from him, your hands folding in your lap playing with a few loose threads as you settle into the quiet. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The noise of the evening has faded away, leaving the camp wrapped in the soft rustle of trees and the distant sound of crickets.

“Tired ?” you finally ask, your voice hesitant, breaking the silence.

Arthur huffs a low breath, his eyes never leaving the glass. “Long day,” he mutters, a simple response that tells you nothing.

You nod, though his answer feels like a wall, a quick, easy way to avoid revealing something deeper. There’s something bothering him, and maybe it’s the alcohol in your system or maybe you simply care too much for him but you’re determined to find out what.

“Javier kept everyone entertained tonight,” you say lightly, your words casual, trying to spark a conversation, though you’re watching him closely.

Arthur’s grip on his glass tightens just enough for his knuckles to go pale against the clear glass. “Yeah,” he replies, his tone flat. “He’s good at that.”

The space between you feels heavier now, filled with something unspoken, a tension that neither of you acknowledges directly. You lean back in your chair, letting the silence settle between you, but you can’t ignore the flicker of his eyes as they meet yours, then quickly shift away like he’s afraid of what might show if he stares at yours too long.

“What’re you drinking ?” you ask after a moment, breaking the quiet.

“Whiskey.”

“‘S that the good whiskey Pearson’s been hiding, or the usual watered down crap ?”

Arthur’s lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, clearly fighting a smile. “Usual crap,” he murmurs. “Pearson ain’t that generous.”

You laugh softly, the sound easing some of the tension that’s built between you. But still, it lingers, just beneath the surface, like something you both know but can’t put into words.

“You seemed quiet tonight,” you say after a pause, studying him closely.

Arthur shrugs, lifting his glass to his lips, the movement slow, as if every motion is carefully measured.

“Didn’t feel like talkin’.”

You watch him, your gaze tracing the line of his jaw, his wet lips and the way his fingers absently trace the rim of his glass. He’s not being completely honest—that much you know, but you’ve learned to read between the spaces of his words.

“Or maybe you just didn’t like the company,” you offer, your tone playful but with an edge to it.

Arthur’s eyes snap to yours, sharp and unmoving. “I didn’t say that,” he replies, his voice low, almost a growl.

He holds your gaze a beat longer than necessary, and you feel the weight of it settle deep in your chest, making your breath hitch. There’s something in his eyes, something raw, vulnerable that makes your heart stutter. You’re not sure if he sees how your composure falters, but he’s the first to look away, tipping his hat lower over his brow to shield his expression. You’ve always hated when he does that—you’ve always hated the way he uses it to put a distance between you, but now more than ever you hate it because it feels like the wall between you is growing thicker and you’re not sure if you can get through anymore.

“You’re a hard man to figure out Arthur Morgan,” you say softly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.

He doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, it’s in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You bite your lower lip in frustration but then you force yourself to swallow down your disappointment. The conversation shifts then, moving toward more trivial things like the weather, the horses, Pearson’s latest disaster with the stew. But even as you talk, you know that there’s another conversation happening in the spaces between words, in the glances you exchange, in both your body language, in the way the silence sometimes wraps itself around you both.

You don’t speak of it. You don’t name it. Neither of you can, but you know it’s there.

“Good night Arthur,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. You give him a sweet smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, before you stand, the weight of your own tiredness forcing you to seek the sweet embrace of your bed.

He doesn’t reply right away, just gives a slow tip of his hat. “Night.”

As you start to take a few steps away from the table, you feel his gaze on your back—steady, unwavering. It feels like it’s burning into your skin.

You glance over your shoulder, just once, and meet his eyes. For a moment, they’re distant, almost lost, like he’s somewhere far away in thought. But as your gaze lingers, you catch something else—something in the way his eyes soften, the barely perceptible softening of his eyebrows. It’s not a look of anger or frustration that he gives you, no, he’s looking at you with something deeper, something raw.

It’s the kind of look that makes your chest tighten, a sweet warmth settling between your ribs. He doesn’t need to say anything; you can feel it in the glance between you—the weight of all the things neither of you will dare to speak aloud.

In that brief moment, you understand. And it’s enough to leave you walking away with butterflies storming in your stomach and the strange sense that you’ve just shared something deep, something fragile with him without ever needing to say a word.

[ptergwen]

hiii

so this might me dirty but hear me out

It has gotten to me that mans come can meddle w the woman’s dna

so with this as an inspiration, and I know it’s kinda cliche but

stark!reader suddenly having spider senses or smh (not pregnancy)

oh and it’s for Tom Holland spider man

have an amazing dayy

a parker thing

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: ?

warnings: smut (p in v unprotected, lowkey dom!peter and reader), swearing

a/n: jump scare if you didn't see my post lmao i'm back y'all! i missed u guys and missed writing lots so i’ll be here from time to time again :) i had so much fun with this req thank you for the idea! much love to u all <3

you catch yourself dozing off and jerk your head up instinctively. one short, loud snore passes your lips as you do so, eyes opening wide. you blink your tired eyes a few times as you readjust to the harsh lighting.

ugh, you fell asleep in the lab, something you always chastise peter and your dad for doing. they're notorious for their long hours spent messing around with stark tech. you've lost count of how many times you've woken up to an empty spot in bed where your boyfriend should be, instead finding him fast asleep surrounded by cups of coffee and a delirious tony still on the grind.

tonight, you're the stark who's in the lab past their bedtime. you had the day to yourself and decided to use your free time to upgrade your suit. it had had a few hiccups during the team's last mission, so you wanted to work on it before the next one. what was supposed to be a few minor tweaks turned into a whole day of tweaking.

you scoff at yourself and wipe some drool that crusted onto your chin. oddly enough, you almost instantly refocus on the screen in front of you. it's been like this for most of the day. you're way more concentrated than usual for some reason, more aware. you figure it's because peter has been out on patrol and couldn't distract you.

"are you finished for the night, boss? you aren't usually here this late."

"i know, but i’m gonna stay a little longer. i’ll be done soon...i think."

friday dims the lights directly overhead so they aren't as harsh. you smile.

"thanks, fri."

you sit up in your seat, scooting in closer to the screen displaying your suit. you carefully look over the prototype and pick up a pen to write yourself some notes. when you go to put down the pen, it sticks to your palm. you shake your hand to try to get it off. it stays stuck.

"huh."

you use your other hand to pry the pen off of you.

"weird."

first you have heightened senses, now you're sticky. if you didn't have ordinary stark dna, you'd think you were part arachnid like peter.

you're not sure why, but you suddenly stand up and turn towards the main doors to the lab. they slide open a few seconds later. peter walks inside, spider suit on and mask off. he pads over to you with a soft smile.

"there you are. friday said i could find you down here."

peter pecks your lips and envelopes you in a hug. you sign contentedly, face nuzzled into his neck and arms winding around him.

"yeah, she's probably sick of me. i've been down here all day."

"you're really locked in, huh? how's the suit coming along?"

peter's fingers rub up and down your back ever so lightly. just the small touch practically sends shivers down your spine.

"good. fixed everything and double checked, then triple checked. started adding some new stuff, too."

"new features? like what?"

"you know the one i was telling you about..."

you trail off as peter's hands slide down to your ass. he pulls you in closer to himself, letting his hands rest there. you peek up at him, heart speeding up.

"go on, i’m listening."

peter gives your ass a gentle squeeze. it's an innocent gesture, really, but your senses are going crazy right now and you can't help but to get turned on. you always tease peter about how easily he's turned on. if this is what it feels like for him, now you understand.

"hm, i'm bored of talking about the suit. tell me about patrol."

"it was good! got a lot of action today. i mean, i guess that's not good 'cause that means there's more crime and stuff, but y'know. anyway..."

you stare at peter's lips, but don't listen to a word he's saying. it's the first time today you can't focus. he's pressed right up against you in his damned tight spider suit, and his hands are still on your ass, and you're so hypersensitive and hyper aware. all you can think about is how bad you need him.

"y/n? you okay?"

peter must have noticed you spacing out.

your gaze flicks between his eyes and lips before your own lips wordlessly capture his in a searing kiss. peter lets out a breathy chuckle, caught a bit off guard by your abruptness. he deepens the kiss for a moment, then pulls back with a look of amusement. you bite back a cheeky smile.

"horny."

peter's features form a smirk.

"i got you, baby."

he kisses you again. his tongue tangles with yours, a sigh passing your lips. peter lifts you up, grip becoming firmer on your ass. you wrap your legs around his waist. he kisses down your neck until he finds a spot he wants to mark. you tilt your head to the side so he has more access. peter's lips suck roughly on your skin, teeth nipping at it playfully. you let out a shaky breath.

peter presses one last kiss to what's sure to become a hickey to soothe it. you tilt his chin up towards you again, lips smashing into his, holding him in place by the back of his head. he carries you to the nearest table while your intertwined lips move desperately against each other's. you sneak a hand down to the bulge in his suit, earning a groan.

"one sec, lemme get this off."

peter sets you down on the table and quickly strips off his spider suit. you take your own clothes off and toss them aside, left only in your bra and panties. peter comes to stand between your legs. he slips your panties to the side, middle finger collecting your wetness as he kisses you again. his finger slides into you with ease and begins to pump. you moan into the kiss, tugging at his hair.

"already so wet, baby. don't even have to get you warmed up."

peter's finger curls inside you, cockiness evident in his tone and on his features. you tug on some hair at the nape of his neck.

"stop teasing, parker."

"can't take it when the roles are reversed, stark?"

something takes over you in that moment, the same something that's been coursing through your veins all day. you grab both of peter's hands and hold them in place above his head. your grip is tight around his wrists, too tight for him to break free of it. a noise almost like a growl escapes you.

"shut up and fuck me, or i’ll fuck you."

peter meets your wild eyes, his pupils equally as dilated.

"do it."

you promptly pull peter up to the table with you. you push him back so he lies down, pinning his arms down at his sides. his chest rises and falls, breathless.

"woah, what's gotten into you today? not that i’m complaining, but, woah."

"i know, right? i thought you were supposed to have super strength."

peter grabs you by your hips and sits up, seating you in his lap. you wiggle your hips in his grasp, but he digs his fingers into your sides so you can't move. peter's voice drops low.

"what was that?"

you breathe out a low laugh.

"nothing."

you dip your head down to press your forehead to peter's. he smiles, satisfied with your answer. you wrap your hand around his hard cock and stroke him. peter's lips ghost over yours, his breathing heavy.

"wanna feel you, y/n/n."

peter slides his hands up to your waist so you can move again. you smile knowingly. you slip off your panties before you reposition yourself, your legs on either side of him. you line up peter's cock with your entrance.

"wanna feel you too, pete."

you lower yourself down onto peter. you both let out little sighs and moans as he fills you up.

he always feels so good inside you, but this time is even better, even more intense.

you arch your back to find the right angle, shifting backwards a bit. once you're both comfortable, you begin to roll your hips. peter exhales a breath he was holding, lifting his hips up to help you out. your movements are slow, fluid. peter supports you by the small of your back, eyes hooded and lips parted for air.

"fuck, i'm not gonna last long."

"me neither."

he kisses you, softly but with so much passion. you let your eyes flutter closed and kiss back. you place your feet flat on the table for more stability and straighten your back, starting to bounce on his cock.

"y/n..."

peter's voice comes out almost like a whine. you chuckle at that.

"i know."

you grab onto peter's shoulders for more support as you move, up and down, back and forth. peter leaves sloppy kisses along the side of your neck. the once quiet lab is now filled with both of your moans and the sounds of your wetness every time his cock thrusts into you. you're both so close, and you can hardly hold out any longer.

peter grabs your hips to stop your movements. he takes over, thrusting up into you at the same delicious pace, only he's the one in control. you let out a series of short, high pitched moans, head thrown back as peter's cock hits the right spot in you over and over again.

"that's it, y/n/n. sound so pretty, baby."

peter half speaks and half groans. you reply with your own noise of content, squeezing yourself around his cock as you reach your high. peter is close to his.

"god, fuck."

he's panting. his thrusts speed up a bit until his hips stop moving altogether. he pushes deeper into you with one final moan, his cum filling you up, making you feel warm inside. you both recently agreed he could finish in you; it's a new level of intimacy.

"fuck, baby. woah."

you bury your face in peter's neck in response. you try to catch your breath, falling forward into his arms.

"oh my god, pete. that was..."

"yeah."

peter hugs your waist. he slowly pulls out of you, making you wince at the new emptiness.

"sorry."

he peppers tender kisses to the side of your head. you remove your face from his neck.

"it's okay."

you ruffle peter's hair with a tired smile. he kisses your cheek, smiling back. you give him another peck on his lips. you yawn, today's and tonight's activities catching up with you once again.

"aw, you tired?"

"mhm. you must be, too, spidey."

"exhausted. let's get cleaned up, then we'll go to bed?"

"sounds perfect."

peter helps you down from the table. you quickly step into your panties in case any cum leaks out of you. he picks his suit up off the floor.

"okay, that was insanely good. i mean, it always is, but something was different. i wonder what it was."

peter shimmies into his suit so his lower half is covered. you're putting on the rest of your clothes.

"i don't know, i’ve just been super on my shit today. really focused and stuff."

"explains why you were so locked in on your suit."

"that might just be a stark thing. actually, it's a parker thing too."

you poke peter's chest playfully. you collect some of your things from your work area, some miscellaneous supplies sticking to your palms as you do.

"why does this keep happening?"

peter watches curiously as you huff and shake paper clips off your palms.

"funny, that reminds me of when i first got my powers. took me a while to figure out how to control it, being sticky."

"uh huh. did you spill web fluid last time you were down here or something?"

"i don't think so, but it would have dissolved by now if i did. i haven't been in the lab for a couple days."

"oh. maybe it was someone else."

peter quirks a brow.

"i don't see any web fluid over there, y/n/n."

you turn to face peter.

"so why am i sticky?"

between this, your strength, and your heightened senses, peter puts it together. you have powers.

his spider powers.

"that might also be a parker thing. more specifically, a spider-man thing."

"you don't mean... no."

if peter is saying what you think he's saying, that confirms what you had thought earlier.

"uh, yeah."

peter crosses over to you. your eyebrows knit together.

"we must share some dna."

"but how? that wouldn't be possible unless we were, like, related... ew! please don't tell me we're fucking related!"

"baby, baby." peter laughs softly, taking one of your hands in his. "stop freaking out."

"you should be freaking out too! you were just inside me, peter, fucking me raw! you came in me!"

"exactly."

peter's voice is way too calm for your liking.

"exactly? what do you mean 'exactly'?"

"think about it. sperm is made up of dna."

"so what?"

"well, i wasn't born with this dna. it got mutated by the spider bite. so no, we're definitely not related."

you tentatively soften your gaze, allowing peter to lace his fingers through yours.

"since i got my powers from the mutation, i guess you got them too when i started finishing in you."

you gasp, a playful smile pulling at your lips.

"you mean you mutated my dna? you have radioactive cum?"

"something like that. you're not mad?"

you toy with peter's fingers, looping an arm around his neck.

"nah, it's kind of cool now that i know what it is. you're gonna have to teach me how to use the powers, though."

"of course." peter returns your smile. "now that you've got new powers, you gotta rebrand. maybe you could call yourself spider-woman."

"you'd like that, wouldn't you? come up with something more original."

peter's arms wrap around your middle, smile growing into a toothy grin.

"you could also use mrs. parker. it's gonna be your name someday, anyways."

you put your other arm around peter's neck with a laugh.

"mrs. parker, i like that."

(too lazy to use tags lmao)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: 😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear your father in the garage. It’s a comfort knowing he isn’t in the house. You’ve learned to navigate so that you rarely run into him. The fact of your existence only ever seems to irk him. 

That day, there’s a low rumble between the clank and clunk of his tools. You’re not sure it’s the engine or something else. The last time you glimpsed inside the garage, the engine wasn’t even in that old Bronco he’s worked on for seven years. 

You rub smooth the lines in your forehead and give a long blink. You’ve been squinting at the diamond art for much too long. You sit up and roll your shoulders. You need a break. 

As you emerge from your room, you feel guilty. A break from what? Doing nothing. That’s what your dad always says. Then he laughs and finds something to throw at you. 

You take his lunch box from the floor by the shoe mat and bring it to the kitchen. You open it up and clean out all the containers. Those things you do, as small as they are, like cleaning and making his meals, aren’t enough. He doesn’t fail to remind you of that. 

You dump the uneaten crust from his ham and cheese sandwich as the door from the garage clatters open and lets in the smell of oil and dirt. You turn your attention to the sink as you put the container with the rest. It’s only as you flip the faucet on that you realise the steps aren’t your dad’s. 

“Scuse me,” Sy says. “Don’t mean to bother, but, uh, had a bit of an accident.” 

You face him as he holds out the front of his tee shirt. You gulp. There’s a smear of shiny oil across it, ready to drip onto the floor. Your eyes round. 

“I can clean it in the bathroom, I see you’re busy.” 

He goes to turn away and you put your hands up. The oil won’t come out if he just wipes it into the shirt. You would know since you deal with your dad’s stained jeans.  

He nears as you sidle down to grab the baking soda from the cupboard. He looms, his shadow moving in your peripheral, and you shift the faucet to off. You grab a paper towel and turn to him. You hesitate to reach for him, that seems too much but before you can make a move, he peels his shirt off. 

You flutter your lashes and point to the counter. He lays the shirt out and you open the box of baking soda. He stands back and watches. Heat trickles down your back as you focus on the task. You sprinkle the powder over his shirt. 

You let it soak up as much as it can then blot daintily. 

“You’re clever,” he muses. “Helpful.” 

You shrug. 

“How lucky’s that daddy of yours, huh? You out here cleaning all his mess. You make his lunch?” He peeks over at the sink and you follow his gaze. You nod. “Hm, think he’d be nicer then, wouldn’t ya? Well, I know him, he ain’t a nice fella.” 

You return your attention to his shirt. If your daddy isn’t so nice, why does he come around? You wouldn’t ask even if you could. You can barely concentrate with him exposed like that. 

Your eyes dart over in a fleeting peek. His chest is hair and his stomach thick, his arms too. You’re always aware of how big he is but at that moment, he seems even larger. You look at his shirt. It’ll need more time to soak and wash. 

“Could wash it with the hose, don’t wanna ruin your machine,” he offers as if reading your mind. 

You frown and shake your head. You hold up your finger and flit away with his shirt. You put stain remover on it and dump it in the machine. You set the cycle then hesitate. What will he wear now? 

Your dad isn’t as big. He’s a pretty small guy. He might have something... 

You hurry into the closet of old things and search around. There’s one of those tees he got from a case of Labatts. They always pack the XLs and nothing else. It has some sports team logo on it. 

You go back to the kitchen and offer it to Sy. He crosses to you and accepts it with a smile, “thanks, sugar. That’s mighty nice.” His fingertips brush yours.  

He unfolds the shirt and shakes it out. He pulls it over his head and your eyes crawl down his torso unintentionally. You back up a step as he tugs down the hem, though it hangs short of his belt. Even that is too small for him. 

“You’re not scared of me, are ya?” He asks as he curls his shoulders as if to make himself smaller. 

You shake your head. Shy is all. You’re not eager to mingle with anyone. Nor they, you. 

“You know, I might have a word with your daddy. He shouldn’t be so nasty to ya. ‘Specially all the work you put in.” 

You shake your head frantically and clasp your hands. You know better than that. Even if he’s trying to be nice, it’s the worst thing he can do. 

“What’s wrong? Huh? Just wanna tell him what a good girl ya are,” he crosses his arms and seems to double in size. 

You pout and press your hands together. You cower and takes another step back. His expression turns dire. 

“Sorry, sugar, hope I didn’t upset ya there. I was only... only bein’ nice, ya know? Seems you’re not used to all that.” He drops his hands to his hips. “Fine then, I’ll just have to save them sweet words for you, huh?” 

You look down and chew your lip. You’re not used to the attention. Your dad’s other friends, if you can call them that, just ignore you or laugh at his jokes about you. You nod and turn, gesturing to the sink. You walk up to it, clinging to the excuse to get away. 

“Yeah, I know, you workin’ hard,” he praises. “I’ll be outta ya way now.” 

You bob your head and turn the tap on again. You work at scrubbing the containers, waiting and listening for him to go. When he does, you can breathe again. You’re not so sure why he’s being nice. Not like you can do much but stare. 

💘

When your dad’s at work, you’re as close to peace as you’ve ever been. There’s still that constant restlessness that follows you. The gnawing reality that time is passing you by. That you have no purpose. No direction. 

You envy others. That they have a reason. That they have everything you don’t. They have other people, ones that care, not those burdened with them; they have important work to do; they have fun things to celebrate; graduations, new jobs, marriages. They have voices and you remain unheard. 

You busy yourself with the tidying when he isn’t there. If you try to clean with him around, he only antagonizes you. There’s a roast out for dinner. It will last a few days. Most times, you lose your appetite. You spend all day craving and making the food then lose all desire the moment it’s before you. 

The small pleasures you once treasured fade with each day that starts and ends the same. You can’t feel too bad for yourself. Your dad doesn’t have to keep you. You’re an adult now. Maybe he’ll never say so, or even show it, but he must care, right? 

You finish mopping and start on chopping up the potatoes. You arrange them in the roasting pan around the slab of beef. Then carrots and celery. You save the onions for last because they make you cry. You’re saved from tears by the rumble of thunder on the horizon. 

Curiously, you set the knife down and go to the window. Would your dad be home early? Some days, they shut down the shop when business is slow. 

It’s not him but you recognise the grating on the truck’s nose. The large truck sends up dirt and gravel as it cuts across the worn roadway. Your confusion floods to panic and you rush out the front door.

Is your father hurt? Why else would Sy be here? 

You hover on the top step as he grinds to a stop and shuts the behemoth truck off. The driver’s door creaks as it opens and Sy jumps down. Instead of his usual camo cargo shorts and sweat-dampened tee, he wears a button-up with short sleeves and a pair of brown slacks. It even looks like he combed his beard. 

Your face twists in a grimace. What’s going on? Why is he here? 

He reaches back into the truck and brings out something behind his back. You can’t see it as he keeps his arm bent behind him and shuts the door. He grins and walks up to the house as you watch. 

“How’s it goin’?” He asks brightly. 

You blink. You look at his collar, the top button straining against his thick neck. You lower your gaze to your loose blue tee and barrel jeans. You’re dressed like a laundry line. Your clothes offer no shape, nothing. They just do the job. 

“I, uh, I wanted to surprise ya, and uh, I was thinkin’ ya know, this place deserves a bit of colour,” he chuckles then clears his throat, “and you deserve good things, so, uh, here.” 

He reveals the flowers from behind his back and you blanch. You stare at the dainty petals, white with violet edges. They are pretty. Too pretty for this place or for you. Besides, why would he do that? 

“You don’t like em? Should I have got roses?” He asks. 

You flinch. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. You come down the steps and cautiously reach for the paper cone. He hands it over and you stare at him. Then you smell them. You think that’s what you’re supposed to do. 

“Smell good?” He asks. 

You peer over the petals at him and nod. You’re not sure how to react. What do you do now? You can’t just leave him out in the yard. You raise your thumb and point it over your shoulder and tilt your head. 

“Sure, I’ll come in,” he accepts. 

He steps forward, a bit too close, and you hop backward up the step. You barely keep from tripping. You get onto the porch and spin around, scurrying to the door. You open the door and step to the side to hold it for him. 

He laughs again, “now, I’m a gentleman, sugar.” 

He grabs the door and gestures you through. You take his directive without pause. You hurry inside and he follows. As he stops to take off his shoes, you continue on into the kitchen. 

You search for an adequate holder for the flowers. You find an old canister and set them in it with some water. His presence lurks behind you. You put the bouquet on the table as he looks around. 

“You cookin’ a fine dinner, huh?” He says. “Like I tell your daddy, he’s a lucky man. Any man’d be lucky to have that waitin’.” 

You shrug. He shifts. 

“I don’t mean to take advantage of your kindness but I was gonna ask ya a favour.” 

You look at him blankly. He reaches in his pocket. He pulls a length of silk. A tie. 

“Couldn’t figure this out,” he explains. “Thought maybe you might...” 

You stare at the tie. You remember tying your daddy’s for your grandma’s funeral. That was a long time ago but you think you could remember. 

You swallow down your nerves and approach him. You take the tie and he glances around. He pushes a chair out and sits. He leans his head back. 

“Just wanna make sure I look good for ya,” he says. 

You flip up his collar and bring the silk around his neck. As you do, your thumb brushes his coarse beard. He hums. 

“Don’t worry bout pullin’ my hair,” he scoffs. “Won’t bother me none.” 

You line up his tie, knuckles brushing his shirt as you go through the steps in your hand. You pull the tie snug and fix hit collar. You step back and he sets his head straight. You hug yourself and give him a questioning look. 

“Ya like your surprise?” He asks. 

You look at the flower then nod. 

“And what about the other?” 

You face him again and your brows draw together. 

“Me,” he snorts. 

You purse your lips and shrug. What does he mean? 

“We’ll wait for your daddy, huh? Then I’ll ask his blessing.” He rests his elbow on the table, “and you’ll have dinner all ready, won’t ya?” 

[papaya-twinks]

Thank you so much for responding 🙏 can I put in the request please? Going to post it again here just so it doesn’t get lost - reader is in a wheelchair (who can walk but uses it for pain/ fatigue) going out with a driver and being worried about using their chair at the GP?

Sore - l.n

Warnings: I, myself, am stupid, so I don’t know if wheelchair is a warning coz tbh I don’t see it as a warning warning but then on the other hand it kinda is a warning like I don’t know if wheelchairs cause trauma or stuff but then again it’s just a chair with wheels like what harm can it do, like I’m also vaguely sure stephen farfler didn’t intend on anyone to keel over and faint at the mere mention of wheelchairs but then again I’m not sure if he actually thought far enough that fanfics would involve wheelchairs let alone actually fanfics themselves so I’m pretty much not sure about whether or not a wheelchair counts as a warning. also stephen farfler made wheelchairs.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I gotchu pookie, lost in transit I see 🙏 I will deliver

“You sure you coming is a good idea?” Lando asked, helping you place the folded wheelchair into the back of his car.

“Keep asking that and it makes it sound like you don’t want me coming,” you laughed.

Part of you…well, part of you thought maybe he didn’t.

Maybe he was ashamed his girlfriend sometimes needed a wheelchair.

“Oh don’t be a muppet, of course I want you there,” Lando nudged you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he watched you steady yourself. “Too hard?” he winced.

“Let’s just tone down the pushes,” you said, letting him help you in the car.

“Baby,” Lando said, “I do want you to know that I’ve never been prouder than having you come to my race, y’know that?”.

Usually, you would’ve doubted him, or anyone for that matter.

But he was so sincere.

So sincere and genuine…it felt real.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pecking him on the lips as he smiled, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

You were still scared though.

Scared when the media turned to you and Lando, the metal frame in Lando’s hands.

Scared when you had to tug on his shirt and tell him your legs ached so badly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lando said, leaning down to peck you on the lips as he helped you sit.

“I’ll push you, c’mon,” he said.

“Lando!” you squealed as he pushed your chair fast, jolting your body back.

“Just setting the mood,” he laughed.

“Setting the- Lan, we’re gonna crash!” you held on your dear life.

“Hey! You have two wheels, make the most of it!” Lando laughed, turning round a corner.

By the time he’d relented, you were both panting, your hands sweaty, but you were laughing nevertheless.

At least he’d brought that pretty smile back to your face.

“Love ya, two wheels,” Lando grinned as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah yeah,”.

[bettystonewell]

What Happened Last Night? - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After burning the Book of the Damned and escaping the Styne’s, you all have a night of harmless celebrations back at the bunker. At least, it was harmless until Charlie suggested a game of Never Have I Ever, and the rest of your night became a blur. Friends to Lovers 18+ only

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent (implied drunk sex), SMUT in part two

Or read it on AO3 here

A/N: Hey 👋 This is my first time posting a fanfic on Tumblr. The names’s Beth (Aussie/Dean-girl/tired mum). I’ve been on AO3 (and Wattpad) for over a year now and thought it was about time I put my big girl pants on and join the community here because it looks fun (though the social media side of this scares my close-to-midlife-crisis-ass). So, yeah, newbie in terms of everything here - please be kind. If you recognise me from the other sites, please say hi 😊 This is a cross post - there are two chapters total. Let’s see how this goes!

in vino, veritas

in wine, there is truth

Five bodies sat around the mess room table that night, drinking their troubles away and eating their fill. 

You, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Cas at the end, sitting on a wooden chair he’d brought in from the library to make more space for those of you who did eat.

"This won't work," you said to the other four, though it was technically directed at Charlie. Your tone was as condescending as you could make it under the influence of the alcohol you’d already consumed. 

Three beers and two sneaky sips of Charlie’s Harvey Wallbanger you’d taken while she wasn’t looking.

It was one less ounce of bounce in her step for your at-the-time more than tipsy gal pal and well deserved. Especially now she’d revealed her true intentions on why she’d encouraged you to partake in drinking in the first place.

In her overly enthusiastic state, she’d suggested a game to get “The Party Started.” A phrase she’d attempted to sing in vain as only you seemed to understand its reference. 

Though Sam might have had a clue. His mouth had turned up around the lip of his bottle he’d conveniently sipped during the rendition of the Black Eyed Pea's early noughties banger.

Dean was one hundred per cent clueless, of course. Nothing past the eighties was decent to him. Nothing except that one Taylor Swift song you’d caught him listening to when he thought no one was watching. 

He had sulked then and had been sulking on and off again since last night. Brooding over the fact he’d lost his one chance to remove the mark. Unbeknownst that Sam had not burnt the Book of the Damned like he, Charlie and Cas thought, but in a better mood thanks to the booze and pizza he’d brought home.

You knew better.

Both about his demeanour and what had really happened with the ancient text. 

You’d seen Sam swap it with a replacement and you’d promised him you’d keep your mouth shut. Something you were hating your past self for.

Past you was a fucking idiot.

A fucking idiot who was about to get drunk from a game of Never Have I Ever like Charlie had suggested, and at risk of spilling more than one can of beans if you didn’t think of something fast to stop it. 

Charlie, the conniving little… She knew way too much about you after the last time you’d had a few with her and the glint in her eyes that you’d seen when she suggested the damn game was enough for you to know that what she was planning was dangerous.

A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. Or something like that.  

And she was almost there. 

“What do you mean, it won’t work?” she said with far too loud a pitch that made even Cas uncomfortable. 

Well, more uncomfortable than normal.

“Umm. The angel, for starters.” You directed your gaze at Cas, realising too late that you were going to give him a complex. “I think most of our everyday human experiences are going to be a never for him. And whatever he did in heaven will be the same for us. It’s unbalanced.”

“You’re thinking too much. He’ll get drunk. We’ll get drunk. That’s the point of the game,” Charlie said.

But her grin left her when a gruff, “I won’t,” interjected itself into the conversation. 

Hah. Won’t. It was as if you’d sucked the happiness out of Charlie and taken it all for yourself to then rub it back in her face. “See. Cas doesn’t want to play. And Sam and Dean clearly don’t want to play either.” They'd said nothing against the suggestion and nothing against you now.

“Actually, you don’t have enough liquor here to get me drunk,” Cas added.

Don’t have enough… “Seriously?” You looked at him again and he nodded. An apologetic look on his face.

Which brought a ‘challenge accepted’ one into Charlie’s.

Looking around the room for support from the guys, you noticed Sam hiding a silent chuckle behind the bottle in his hand. 

While Dean, who had been quiet since Charlie had burst out in song, locked eyes with yours. “Well, if there aren’t any more arguments from you, sweetheart, let’s play.”

And you thought Cas’ claim that there wasn’t enough booze for him was a surprise.

Fuck. Your head was pounding.

Your mouth was drier than a desert with a chalky sensation in your throat and lips that felt like they had cracked. 

Yup. Cracked alright. They stung as you splayed your tongue over them, attempting to nourish the skin with what little wetness you had left in your mouth. A fat lot of good that did, though.

They weren’t the only part of your body feeling uncomfortable. Pins and needles from where you’d slept funny on your arm tingled from your funny bone to your wrist.

‘Ow. Fuck.’ Well, that hurt.

You were hung without a doubt, and just all over feeling seedy.

At least you’d slept some of the alcohol off and were no longer drunk. You thought.

The strands of hair that had made their way into your mouth and the saliva you strung along with it as you pulled it out would say otherwise. Urgh. Gross.

Had you been drooling? No wonder your throat was dry.

You groaned and forced your eyes open. Yes, you had. There was a wet patch on the white pillowcase below you.

Odd. You didn’t own white sheets. 

You’d decorated your room in the bunker with as much colour as you could. What with the hunting life full of black, brown, denim and blood, you didn’t need any of that spreading into your personal space. 

Of course, white was colour(ish), but again, you didn’t own white sheets, and your room didn’t have a solid wall where you were facing. Curiouser and curiouser. Your door was supposed to be right there. 

You were at the correct end of the bed for it. A headboard behind you and a pillow underneath you, meaning you were lying on the right side. Yet all you saw was more bricks, a tall boy in some kind of brown and clothes that weren’t yours scattered on the surrounding floor. 

Amongst them, a pair of jeans - okay, they might be yours. But the flannel? One plaid with various browns and greens. The very same Dean had been wearing last night?

Fuck.

Dean’s clothes. Dean’s room.

This was Dean’s room? 

This was Dean’s room. 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. 

What were you doing here? The last thing you remember was… Fuck.

Those lips. Dean’s lips, plump and whiskey-tainted, had peppered kisses on you in more than one place. Over your mouth, your cheek and your neck. Lower... 

You’d learnt the spot at the base of your ear above your lower jaw was quite sensitive. Dean had learnt that, too. He’d also learnt a few other things if your tainted memory served you correctly, and you, the same about him.

The way his muscles contracted around his chest and back. Every little ridge, taut and firm, continued even down his arm and into his hands. Those talented fingers had a way of placing pressure in just the right places to make you blush. They’d found their way under your shirt and bra and…

Oh… Oh…

Had you slept with him and not remembered the main event? Was that possible with Dean? Your friend. The guy you’d wanted to be more than for the longest of time.

You've fallen for him the day you’d met. With that charming smile and those dazzling green eyes. 

And that was before you’d gotten to know him.

Now you knew the man behind the shit-eating grin. The playful, sometimes scary nerd (who refused to admit it) was loyal to those he cared about. A self-righteous martyr, who could be a bit of a dick sometimes and followed it too when the time was appropriate. 

Not that he’d done it so much lately. 

Except, maybe now.

You were screwed and without asking him, there weren’t too many ways to check if indeed you had been by him.

You turned your head slowly to find an empty bed next to you. 

Thank fuck. There was plenty of time to ask, but his bed was not the place.

You stretched your legs out, noting they felt normal. Stiff if anything, but not in a way you’d expect if you’d partaken in good sex.

Of course, that meant nothing. Maybe the rumours you’d heard about Dean were untrue?

Yeah right. 

You’d seen the satisfied faces from all of his past hook-ups as they fled his motel room the next morning. Possibly one in every state. He had brought none of them to the bunker though, meaning you were the first to sleep in his room. In his bed.

Go you... That was something to be proud of, not. 

You’d hightailed it out of his room after all that. Slinking off down the hall to your own to get changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing the night before. You hadn’t been wearing them when you’d woken up, of course. Oh, no. You’d been wearing one of his henleys, braless underneath, and your underwear surprisingly still on. 

While you’d think that would be a comfort for you, you knew that meant nothing. Though everything felt normal down there, so maybe it did. 

You weren’t sticky when you had a shower, but you noticed the love bites above your breasts when you looked in the bathroom mirror after it. There were bruises on your hips too. Ones shaped like fingerprints that fingers had pressed into you on either side. 

Hmm.

There was only one way to find out what had happened and once you’d primed and prepped yourself, wearing clothes that covered you from your neck to your toes, you made your way to the same room where everything had gone down the night before.

Stupid Charlie and her stupid fucking game. 

“Hey, Charlie,” you greeted when she saw you enter. Her eyebrows raised, along with her grin. “Where’s everyone else?” 

In other words - Where’s Dean?

Only Charlie sat at the table. The rest of the room was clear. There were no more pizza boxes, no more alcohol bottles and no one in the kitchenette. Not even someone’s head in the fridge. 

Just Charlie, with the smell of bacon and freshly ground coffee lingering in the air around her.

Coffee. You needed some of that.

“Sam’s got his head in the books again. Can you believe he was up before eight?”

Actually, you could and you hummed in response as you took your fresh cup of steaming goodness up to your lips to sip.

“I think Cas has left the building. We may have gotten him drunker than we thought.” She smirked. “And I figured you knew where Dean was.”

Your mouth spluttered over the rim of your cup. Coffee now dripped down your shirt and a few of the drops had landed on the floor. 

You flicked your eyes to your friend as you placed the cup on the table opposite her. Towels. You needed towels.

“Don’t give me that look. I saw you two after I left. And I checked on you this morning when I first got up. You weren’t in your room,” she said.

There was a knowing look on her face as you made your way between the pantry and back again that you ignored. Stooping down low to wipe the spill you’d made on the tiled floor below, only joining her once you’d discarded the paper towel in the bin along with your dignity.

Your hands went straight back to your cup, sipping on the rim and avoiding Charlie’s prying eyes.

“Come on. Let me live vicariously. What happened between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“You don’t know? I set this all up for you and him and you don’t know?”

“Ssshhh.” Your shoulders slouched, and you reached across the table to grab her arm. “I don’t remember, okay? I woke up in his bed but…”

“Did you two?” She made a crude gesture with her hands.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Your eyes were open wide as you enunciated every syllable to get your point across. 

“How do you not know?” Charlie blinked a couple of times. 

Drawing in a long breath, your mouth agape and ready to sigh it all out, you looked back at your friend and trembled your head in a quick shake. “I remember fooling around a bit but I don’t remember much more than that.”

“So you just woke up in his bed and don’t know how you got there?” she asked.

“I mean, I know how I got in his room, I remember that much, I think, but I don’t remember lying down or, you know.” The look you gave her was enough. You didn’t need to elaborate and even if you had wanted to, a heavy thud of boots echoed through the corridor outside.

Sure, it was possibly Sam, but that distinct gap between steps could only have been made by one bow-legged Winchester. And when Charlie’s face lit up opposite you and you heard the sound abruptly stop from somewhere near the door, you knew it to be true.

“Morning Dean,” she said. The chirpiness in her voice made you want to slap her silly but as you only had access to the hand that still held yours in the moment, you dug your fingernails into the skin below them instead. “Ow. You want some breakfast? There’s bacon still in the pan.”

Dean grunted and you felt eyes boring into the back of your head.

You refused to look behind you to where you knew he was pouring his own coffee by the sounds of it and released Charlie’s hand to pick up your cup. You took slow sips, keeping both your mouth and the rest of your body occupied while your elbows rested on the table, defending yourself from Charlie and her quips.

“How did you sleep?” she asked this time. Her eyes flicked between you both.

Could she be any more obvious?

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You got any more questions, or are you gonna leave us in peace to sort our own shit out?” 

Fuck.

You looked over at Charlie with a pleading look that said ‘Please don’t go.’ My how things had changed. But she grinned back at you and wagged her eyes, before standing and leaving the room in haste. Damn traitor.

As her footsteps trailed off down the hall, the room grew uncomfortably silent. Making your sips the loudest thing to have ever existed in the world. 

Your coffee was more bitter than it had been and you needed sugar pronto if you ever wanted to finish it.

You brought your cup down and placed it on the table before you to let your fingers fidget over the thin porcelain. Paying attention to each sharp angle between the curves and painted decorations. More so than was ever necessary.

Your eyes fixated on it, even as Dean took Charlie’s place across from you, watching you with caution. “So,” he cleared his throat. “How’d you sleep?”

Seriously? Taking Charlie’s line was how he wanted to start this. Well alrighty then. “Um. Fine, I guess. You?” You braved a glance at him, noting he was more serious in his disposition than usual.

“Like a log,” he said before silence filled the room again.

Right. You weren’t sure what you should say next. There was that big question on your mind, but you wanted, no, needed to approach it carefully. You didn’t want him to know you didn’t remember what if anything had happened between you. 

Not for his ego, but for yours.

You took another glance at him and saw his tongue run along the inside of his cheek, making it stick out under the five o’clock shadow he was yet to get rid of. He always looked his best like that. 

“I uh, I was surprised you weren’t there when I came back to my room just now.”

Wait. He was? “You were?” 

“Yeah.” There was a defensive twang in his tone. It was subtle, but it was there. “I only went to take a shower and then I found you’d bolted… I thought…” He shook his head.

He thought. Thought what?

You looked him up and down. It wasn’t just his tone that was unusual. The way he held his shoulders and the way he gripped his coffee cup before him was odd. In anyone else, you’d say they were lacking in confidence, but Dean wasn’t like this.  

The last time you’d seen him in such a way was after he’d killed Randy and the thugs in Pontiac and had come home dishevelled and broken over what he’d done.

“What did you think?” you asked, stretching your arm out to brush his hand across the table. Hoping that by doing so it might relieve whatever tension he was feeling.

There was a warmth there, that spread under your fingertips as your skin touched his and brought flashbacks to your mind of you touching other places on his body. 

You’d seen him with his shirt off last night. Been up close and personal with his tattoo and the scars that adorned his chest. You’d felt the dip in his spine and the pressure of his waistband pressing into your thumbs when you’d hooked them under the denim that sat around his waist.

Had you gotten into those jeans last night?

“Last night,” he said, watching your hand with interest. “After what we talked about.”

What we talked about? You’d stayed up well into the night with him. Long after Sam and Charlie had gone to bed and Cas had disappeared to do whatever Cas does. But just like your memories of what took place in his room were drawing blank, so too were whatever words you’d exchanged with him. 

All you could see were the grins and smirks he threw your way, and you nodded your head to stall. It didn’t do you any favours. 

He was looking at you with a scrutinising gaze and just as your cheeks had burned when he found that spot under your ear, they did the exact same to you now and gave everything away. “You. You don’t remember? Do you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I ah. I’m drawing blanks. Some of it, I remember, but I couldn’t tell you what we talked about after the others left. And…” You hesitated.

“What?” His eyes locked onto yours and while they made you nervous, you couldn’t pull away. 

“Dean. Did we…” 

He seemed almost disappointed. But rather than wait for you to finish your question, or answer it even though it was as obvious as Charlie had been, he stood up, scraping the chair along the floor as he did so to storm off.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

You had drunk a lot and been drunk because of it. You’d spent time with Dean alone after the others had gone to bed and had talked with him about something. 

Something that led you to his room and into his bed. 

There’d been action. Kisses and touches. A bit of groping and clothes being removed. Small flashes of that continued to form in your mind. But while marks had been left on your skin and you’d stayed the night in his bed, you couldn’t remember the physical act of him being inside of you. Or you giving him a happy ending either for that matter. 

And now, he was disappointed.

Could it be that he felt the same way you did? 

————————————————————Thank you for reading! I’ll try posting part two same time next week - or you can read it now on AO3 here. In the meantime, I’ll be trying to work this site out (and finishing my WIPs whose updates are overdue… 🙃

[willalove75]

Alcina's New Maid Pt. 26 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Summary: he party has officially begun! Filled with laughter, love, fun and a little angst! Also Alexi may or may not have been inspired by David from Schitts Creek

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI.

Tags: Some fluff, a little angst and things start to heat up at the end!

Notes: Part 26! WOAH! TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY?! Hell yeah! I did a poll here since I pretty much wrote these last two chapters together as one and broke them up and the winning vote on the poll was to post them together so here we are! Also I forgot to say in my last chapter - Happy New Year everyone!!

Click here for the rest of the series

Gif source

Alcina leads you into the ballroom and you are taken back by its beauty. This room is normally stunning as it is, but with all of the decorations it’s even moreso. The music rings throughout the room and all of the guests are mingling and dancing. Bela, Cassandra and Daniela are dancing off to the side along with Angie while the rest of the Lords, and Mother Miranda, are all seated at one of the tables. Villagers approach the table and bow, giving thanks to their Holy Mother and showing their respect to the Lords. From what you can see, Miranda seems uninterested in the villagers approaching her as her eyes continue to scan the crowd. A shiver runs down your spine and you turn your attention away from her and follow Alcina further into the room. Servants weave in and out of the crowd with trays of appetizers and more champagne.

One server walks up to you with a tray of some of your favorite appetizers and you happily take a couple, exchanging the food with your now empty champagne glass. Almost immediately another server approaches with more champagne and both you and Alcina take a glass.

“To a marvelous night, and to you, draga mea.” She says.

“And to you for putting together such a beautiful party. Thank you, Alci. Everything is so beautiful.”

“Anything for you, iubirea mea.”

The two of you clink your glasses and take a sip of the champagne. A few girls you knew from school sheepishly approach you and wish you a happy birthday. Alcina proudly rests her hand around your waist as you introduce them and engage in some small talk.

As your conversation winds down, so does the music and you hear Zina’s voice over the intercom.

“Will everyone please take their seats? Your main course is going to be served momentarily.”

Everyone shuffles to their seats and Alcina directs you to a long table parallel to the dancefloor. In the center is a large chair for Alcina and two chairs on either side for you and the girls.

Taking the seat to her right, Cassandra sits next to you and Bela takes the chair to Alcina’s left with Daniela next to her. It was a little surprising to see the girls walk to their seats and not swarm. Now that you think of it, you haven’t seen them swarm at all since the party started. Leaning over to Cassandra, you whisper to her.

“Is there a reason you guys aren’t swarming?”

“Mother doesn’t like us to do that in public, especially during formal events. She says it's ‘unbecoming.’ Plus, I don’t think she wants the whole village to know we can. It’s one of those things that most people can’t confirm or deny, if that makes sense. And it keeps us safer if they don’t know.”

“Oh, gotcha. That makes sense.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see one of the doors open and you see Alexi and the stablehand sneak in. You catch his gaze and raise an eyebrow at him and the stablehand. He shoots you a wink and blows you a kiss and you roll your eyes at him. Alcina grumbles beside you and you look over to see her looking at Alexi too. Giving her a little nudge with your elbow, you give her a knowing look and she playfully rolls her eyes at you before a hush falls over the room. 

Alcina stands from her chair and the girls clink their silverware against their glasses to signal a toast.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and honored guests, we gather together this evening to celebrate a truly special occasion. We gather here tonight to celebrate a remarkable person whose presence has enriched our lives the moment she stepped foot into Castle Dimitrescu.” Alcina turns towards you. “Y/N, your kindness, warmth, and unwavering presence have touched each of us in House Dimitrescu in such profound ways. Tonight, we raise our glasses to you. May this year bring you endless joy, happiness and love. Because of you, this castle feels more like a home than it has in many, many years. I hope this year and every year following you know how truly cherished you are. Te iubesc cu tot ce am și cu tot ce sunt, draga mea. Happy birthday.”

(I love you with everything I have and with everything I am, my darling).

The guests applaud Alcina’s toast as they clink their glasses together and Alcina clinks hers against yours.

“Te iubesc, draga mea.” She whispers before sipping from her drink.

“I love you too, Alci.” You respond before sipping yours.

Alcina reclaims her seat and looks over at Zina, who is waiting for the cue to begin serving dinner, and gives her a nod.

The doors open and dozens of servers come out in near perfect lines and disperse throughout the room. Plates with cloches are placed in front of you and each server goes down the line, perfectly rehearsed, removing the cloches revealing one of the most beautiful meals you’ve ever seen.

Everyone begins to eat and you actually freeze in place when you look around to see Cassandra and Daniela eating like civilized people. At nearly every meal they make a mess, use their hands (or other objects, like daggers) and end up covered in blood and food. Bela is the only one that consistently eats like a “normal” person. But both Cassandra and Daniela are using forks and knives and taking bites from their silverware instead of shoveling the food in their mouths. Of course their steaks are raw and bloody, but the lack of mess is distracting you from your own meal.

Cassandra struggles to cut into a piece and begins to growl in frustration. Alcina hears her and clears her throat, staring at Cassandra out of the corner of her eye. Cassandra looks over at her mother before letting out a huff and relaxing her shoulders. Alcina is poised as always, with perfect posture, she eats her meal as if she’s been trained to do this her entire life. Which honestly, she probably was. Even though it’s been decades since such an event was held, the training that she went through throughout her entire childhood for these formal events will forever be ingrained in her.

The meal was absolutely delicious, which was not a surprise to you given how talented the chefs are, and you were so full that you were worried the seam on your dress might pop.

Light chatter fills the room as the guests finish their meals and the room grows louder when the music picks back up, inviting the guests back to the dancefloor.

“Come on! Let's dance!” Daniela says as she grabs your hand.

“Ugh, Dani, I’m so full!” You whine.

“Less complaining! More dancing!”

Daniela pulls you away from the table and you pout at Alcina, who just smiles and winks at you, having zero intentions on helping out get out of Daniela’s grasp. Bela, Cassandra, and Angie follow you to the dancefloor and you all dance to the upbeat music. The drinks flow as you dance and the moment your glass is empty, a new, full glass appears in your hand. You’ve lost count of how many drinks you’ve had but from the nice buzz you have going you can tell you’ve had a few. A few friends and acquaintances from the village bounce around the dancefloor and you manage to laugh and dance with most of the people you had on your guest list. At one point the kids find you on the dancefloor and you get to dance with them as well. As soon as you see your uncle staring daggers at you and the kids you send them back off to their parents, doing your best to avoid any more conflicts with your aunt and uncle for the night. Alexi finds you soon after and twirls you around a few times before you have to cling to him to get him to stop before you get too dizzy and fall over.

The music slows and some people leave the dance floor while others pair off into couples. Alexi extends his hand and bows and you laugh while taking his hand, accepting his dance. Bela and Cassandra dance together and Dani dances with Angie.

Alexi leads the dance and the two of you sway to the music. It feels so good to be back with your best friend. Guilt eats at you knowing that you neglected him for the last few months, but the way he smiles down at you eases you.

“So, how was helping the stablehand?” You ask.

A light blush dusts his cheeks and he clears his throat.

“It was, uh, fine. Tons of horses, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a ‘we’?”

“No! That’s not what I - I didn’t mean -” He stutters.

“I’m just joking!” You say with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your new crush.” You tease.

“I do not -”

“Don’t even give me that. The moment you laid eyes on him everyone else around you disappeared. I’m not surprised though, he’s very cute and absolutely your type.”

Alexi rolls his eyes and they land on the stablehand once more. He bites his lip as his eyes roam over him.

“He is really cute, isn’t he?”

“Very.”

The stablehand catches Alexi staring at him and smiles back but Alexi panics and his gaze shoots back to you and you laugh at his flustered state.

“Don’t laugh! Plus, don’t think I forgot that you owe me a ton of answers.” He says as he spins you.

“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.” You say as you spin back into his arms.

As your twirl ends the hair draped over your shoulder falls to your back, exposing the scar on your neck to Alexi. His gaze wanders down to it and he stops, his eyes growing wide.

“What the - oh my god what the hell happened?” He asks with concern in his voice.

Alexi goes to brush his fingers over your scar and you quickly cover it up again with your hair.

“It’s nothing.”

“That is not nothing. What the hell happened? Who did that to you?” Looking around the room, you try to come up with an answer but Alexi knows you better. “Oh my god,” he says, dropping his voice. “She did that to you, didn’t she?”

“Alexi, it’s not - it’s not what you think.” You say as you start dancing again to keep from gaining unwanted attention from the guests.

“What did she do to you? Are you actually safe here?”

“It wasn’t her fault, please, I need you to trust me, to believe me. It wasn’t her fault.”

“How? How can it not possibly be her fault if she’s the one who did that to you?”

“I can’t explain it right now, but please, I need you to believe me. I’ll tell you everything I can later, I promise. But I am safe here. I am safe with her.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “I love her.”

“Please tell me this isn’t some Stockholm syndrome shit. Because right now, that's what it looks and sounds like.”

“I know it looks and sounds bad. I get it, I do. But that’s not it. I love her so much. Like real, actual love. Not some ‘she kidnapped me and I’ve fallen in love with my captor’ fairytale shit. I’m safe with her, it’s other people that are the problem.”

“Like who?”

“I can’t tell you right now, I want to but I really, really can’t. I promise when things wind down you and I will find someplace quiet and talk.”

“Are you sure you’re okay here?”

“I am, I promise.”

“Okay. But I still want answers.”

“And you’ll get them, I promise.”

The song comes to an end and a second slow song begins. Alcina walks up behind Alexi and taps him on the shoulder. He turns around and Alcina extends her hand to you.

“May I interrupt and have this dance?”

“Of course.” Alexi says with a nervous bow as he places your hand in hers.

Alcina nods her head at him and Alexi shoots you a concerned look before disappearing into the crowd.

“Is everything alright?” Alcina asks after catching a glimpse of the look he shot you.

“Yeah, it’s fine. He saw my scar and freaked out a little, but I promised I’d talk to him later.”

Alcina’s look softens and her gaze travels down to your neck where your hair covers your scar. You can see the guilt in her eyes and you take her hand, placing a kiss across her gloved knuckles. Her eyes meet yours once more and you give her a reassuring smile. She smiles back at you and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“May I have this dance, M’lady?”

“You may, draga mea.”

The height difference between you and Alcina makes dancing incredibly difficult and awkward so Alcina leans down to whisper in your ear.

“May I lift you, draga?”

“You may.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Alcina lifts you to her height and you have to fight the instinctive urge to wrap your legs around her. She holds you comfortably against her and takes your other hand in hers as she leads the dance. Even though your legs are dangling in the air, it doesn’t feel nearly as ridiculous as you thought it might and you’re still able to sway your body along with hers.

With her forehead pressed against your temple, Alcina whispers in your ear “you look so beautiful tonight, draga. Every time I look at you I feel the need to pinch myself so I know that you are real and not just a figment of my imagination. I know I have said this thousands of times, but I will continue to say it until my very last breath. I am so blessed to have you in my life. As much as you are mine, I am yours. My heart, my soul, everything I am, belongs to you, my love. I love you endlessly. Tu ești luna mea, stelele mele, întregul meu cer de noapte. Însemni mai mult pentru mine decât lumea. Te iubesc.”

(You are my moon, my stars, my entire night sky. You mean more to me than the world. I love you.).

Your heart flutters in your chest and you press yourself into Alcina more, nuzzling into her neck.

“Thank you for putting together such a beautiful night, Alci. I know I didn’t really want a party, but I’ve had so much fun tonight. Thank you so much for doing all of this. You look so beautiful. When I first did my entrance, the first person I saw was Miranda and I was so scared, but I felt you looking at me and the second my eyes met yours, everything and everyone else disappeared. It was just you, and I felt so happy, so safe knowing you were there waiting for me. You’re my protector, my love, my whole heart. If I’m your moon, stars and night sky then you are my sun, my clouds, my beautiful blue sky. I love you Alcina, with all that I have.”

“My darling girl.” Alcina whispers.

Pulling back, you look into her eyes and see the glassiness in them and you’re sure she sees the glassiness in your eyes too. A smile graces her features and you mirror the action. As you look around you see Alexi dancing with the stablehand. Nodding your head, Alcina looks in the direction and sees the two men. She huffs out a laugh and you look at her giving her a “see? Nothing to worry about” look. In response, she rolls her eyes at you and you both laugh as you nuzzle your noses together. As the music ends Alcina presses a kiss to your knuckles and lowers you to the ground.

Dessert is served shortly after and thankfully, the entire crowd doesn’t sing “Happy Birthday.” You’re pretty sure you would pass out if they all did.

The party starts to wind down a bit, some guests leave soon after dessert, your aunt, uncle, and cousins included. As the crowd thins you take the opportunity to grab a bottle of wine and find Alexi.

You’re able to catch him on his way back from the bathroom and you take him by the hand and lead him out of the ballroom, down one of the halls. Finding an outcove that once held a statue, you and Alexi settle yourselves on the ground facing each other as you pass the wine bottle back and forth.

“Holy shit this is good wine.” Alexi says as he takes a swig from the bottle.

“It is world renowned!” You say with a giggle. “She does run a legitimate business, you know.” You reply, taking the bottle back and drinking from it.

“Part of me is actually surprised by that. I always assumed it was a cover.”

“Cover for what?”

“Oh, come on, you know. You knew the rumors that surrounded this place before you got here.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You say, taking a sip and passing it back.

“So your uncle really just sold you?”

“Pretty much.” You say as you recall the day you first met Alcina. It’s so crazy to you how terrified you were then and where you are now. It almost feels like you’re recalling a memory from someone else. In a way, you are. So much has changed since that day, you’ve changed so much since that day.

“God, he’s such an asshole.” Alexi says as you finish the story.

“Yeah. And he was just as pleasant today.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, he basically called me a whore and said it’s a good thing my parents were dead because being with Alcina would have killed them.” You say, playing with the hem of your dress.

“Are you fucking kidding me? He seriously said that to you?”

“Yup.”

“I could kill that asshole.”

“I think Alcina may be in line before you on that one.” You say with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Speaking of, you owe me a ton of answers.”

“I know I do. What do you want to know?”

“Literally everything?”

“I can’t tell you everything.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because I can’t, there’s some things that are kept secret because it keeps them safe. And honestly, I don’t even know everything. But I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

Alexi rolls his eyes as he takes the bottle from you and drinks.

“Fine.”

You could tell he wasn’t super happy with the fact that you weren’t going to tell him everything so you decided to play a game. For every question you would answer, he would drink. For every question you didn’t answer, you drink. The idea of turning it into a game definitely piqued his interest and he happily agreed. He was also hoping that you would end up drinking enough to spill a few juicy secrets.

The game started out innocently enough, Alexi asked you about how you and Alcina got together, what working at the castle was like. He asks you about your first kiss with Alcina and you tell him how she teased you for a few weeks before finally kissing you. The next question he asked was what your first time in bed together was like and a blush dusts your cheeks.

“Well, it was actually the same night as the kiss.” You say, looking away from him.

“Wait.” He says, pausing as he brings the bottle to his lips. “You kissed her for the first time and let her fuck you for the first time in the same night?”

“Yeah. In my defense she was being a huge tease for weeks! She could have kissed me long before that but she’s like that sometimes.”

“Slut.” He gasps before taking a sip and passing it back to you.

“Shut up.”

“You love me.”

“That I do.” You reply with a laugh.

The wine starts to hit Alexi faster since you’re answering more of his questions than he anticipated and he leans forward.

“So, are the rumors true?”

“Which ones?”

“That she hires virgins and then kills them and drinks their blood. Because virgin blood is better - or something like that.”

You think for a second before responding with a half-honest response. “Not true.”

“Okay, and what’s the real answer?”

“Ugh. Fine. It’s not entirely true. Happy?”

“Then what does she do?”

“She told me ‘virgin blood’ isn’t a real thing.”

“But she kills maids and drinks their blood?”

“Um -”

“OH MY GOD.” He shouts.

“Shut up!” You say as you smack his arm.

-

In the ballroom, Alcina is saying goodbye to some of the guests when Karl comes up to her.

“Enjoy the party, Gigantor?”

She rolls her eyes at him and crosses her arms.

“I did enjoy myself this evening. I would ask you the same, but solely based on how much of my alcohol you drank, I very well know the answer.”

Karl laughs and the noise grates on Alcina’s nerves.

“I gotta admit, you do know how to throw one hell of a party, even if the formal shit was stuffy.”

“What do you need, Heisenberg?”

“I wanted to wish the birthday girl a happy birthday before I left but I can’t seem to find her anywhere. I thought maybe you already locked her up in your room for the night. With that gown she’s wearing, I’m surprised the two of you made it this far into the night. Unless you two snuck off earlier and -”

“Enough.” Alcina hisses. “I do not know where she is. But she should be seeing her guests out, so I suppose I should go find her.”

“Not like it’ll take you long. You can sniff her out like a bloodhound.”

“Goodnight, Heisenberg.” She says through her teeth before turning away to look for you.

Alcina exits the ballroom and listens for you. Within a few seconds she’s able to hear your voice and a male’s voice. She follows the sound and silently makes her way through the halls of the castle. When your voice gets closer, she recognizes the other voice as Alexi’s. As she nearly reaches the outcove, Alcina hears Alexi ask you if the rumors are real and she freezes. She hears you say “not true” and lets out a breath of relief. The relief she feels doesn’t last long when she hears Alexi call you out on not being entirely truthful and decides to hide in the shadows nearby to listen to the rest of the conversation.

“This is one of those questions that I don’t know the entire answer to, at least I haven’t witnessed it myself.” You say.

Alcina notices the slight uptick in your heartbeat, which means you’re only telling a half-truth, but she lets you continue and keeps her presence hidden.

“But she does drink blood?”

“Yes.”

“Is she a vampire?”

“No.”

“Then why the fuck does she drink blood?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” You say, finally taking a sip from the bottle.

“Okay. Have you seen her kill anyone?”

“Uh-”

“Oh my god, you have. Haven’t you?”

“Once.”

“Y/n! She’s a murderer!”

“It’s not what you think!”

“I think she enjoys killing people because she’s a psychopath.”

Alcina clenches her jaw as her anger rises.

“She’s not! And the only time I saw it was because the girl she killed literally almost killed me.”

“Hold the phone, what the fuck?”

“There was this maid, she had worked here for a few years and was Alcina’s handmaiden but Alcina replaced her with me when I got here. She was pissed, like really, really pissed and tried to hurt me a few times. Alcina punished her, gave her warnings, but she didn’t stop. She hurt me a few times and then the final straw was when she pushed me down the stairs. I got really, really hurt. I broke my arm, cracked my head open, it was bad. Alcina saw me at the bottom of the stairs right after it happened and the girl kicked me in the stomach. The maid went to kick me again and well, Alcina stopped her.”

“By killing her?”

“She wasn’t going to stop attacking me. She made it clear that she wanted me dead.” You say with a pleading in your voice for Alexi to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Why kill her? Why not just fire her?”

“I don’t know, probably because she would be dangerous to Alcina and her daughters if she was fired. She knew too much, she was too much of a liability I guess.”

“How many times did she hurt you before?”

“Twice. The first time she cut me with a knife and the second, she tripped me in the dining hall and I hit my head on one of the benches.” You move your hair away to reveal the barely-noticeable scar the accident left. “And she stood over me with a knife and was definitely going to stab me if Alcina didn’t stop her.”

“Holy shit. She really wanted you dead that bad?”

“Yes. She was an actual psychopath. Alcina isn’t.”

“Okay, you haven’t convinced me that she isn’t a bloodthirsty killer, but I guess I get it.” Alexi says as he drinks from the bottle again. “So why is she so gigantic?”

Alcina clenches her jaw at Alexi’s question but stays hidden.

“That ties into why she drinks blood, actually.”

“Come on, can you give me anything?”

You finish taking a sip and take a moment to think.

“Okay, what I can tell you is that she became a Lord because Mother Miranda used her powers from the Black God and gave her and the other Lords a -” You pause to think of the right way to explain it. “Let's call it a gift.”

“And that gift made her nine feet tall and drink blood?”

“Basically.”

“Why aren’t the other Lords that big? Do they drink blood too?”

“They each got different gifts, more or less. And no, at least I don’t think so. The gift affected each one differently. Alcina drinks blood because before she was given it, she was really sick with some kind of blood disease and the gift combined with that created this need for blood and for some reason made her really tall. Why that happened I have no idea.”

“What happens if she doesn’t drink it?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Can she control her bloodlust? Or does she lose control?”

Without realizing it, your fingers go to the scar on your neck.

“She can control it.”

Alcina knows you're lying and she closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath, she tries to ground herself from the shame bubbling up inside her.

“Holy shit.” Alexi says. “You’re lying. She can’t control herself, can she? Is that what happened? She lost control and did that to you?” He says, gesturing to the scar on your neck. His anger and fear starts to show in his voice and you try to calm him.

“No, that’s not - that’s not what happened. It wasn’t her fault!”

“How can you even say that? She did that to you, didn’t she?”

Staring into your lap, you take a breath before answering.

“Yes. She did.”

Alcina clenches and unclenches her fists at her sides. She can feel her shame bubbling into anger and she tries her best to keep herself grounded.

“Then what? It was an accident? She promised that she’d never do it again? You know what that sounds like, don’t you?”

“I know how it sounds!” You yell, startling Alexi. “I know. This is one of those things where I don’t know if I can tell you the whole story.”

“You better tell me everything you can or I’m dragging you out of this castle.”

Alcina growls low in her throat and is about to make herself known until she hears you begin to speak again.

“It’s hard to explain without putting them in danger. But Alexi, it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t lose control on her own. She was pushed past her breaking point. Never for a moment did she ever want to hurt me.” You say as your eyes begin to fill with tears. “Alcina loves me. I know you have a hard time believing it, but she does. I’ve seen a side of her that I don’t know if she’s ever shown anyone else. Yes, she’s this tall, imposing, intimidating, scary woman to some people. But I don’t see that when I look at her. When I look at her, I see the woman who cradled me every time I was hurt. The flirt who teased me for weeks before taking me to bed. The one who knows me better than I know myself some days. Yes, she’s hurt me. More than just physically. But she’s beaten herself up so many times and has gone above and beyond to make it up to me. When I look at her, I see the woman who lets me see the most vulnerable parts of herself. After I got this scar, she took care of me. She sobbed over me for hours. Alexi, she hated herself for what she did. She still hasn’t forgiven herself.”

“Have you forgiven her?”

“Yes.”

“Why did she get pushed past her breaking point? You make it sound like someone else did it.”

“Because someone else did.”

“Who? Was it the person that’s a problem you wouldn’t tell me about earlier?”

“Yes.”

“You need to tell me who.”

You look down at your lap. This is one of those questions you’re not sure if you’re putting Alexi, yourself, or anyone else in danger by answering truthfully. But you also know that your best friend will never trust you again if you don’t tell him. Taking a deep inhale, you exhale the answer in a quiet breath.

“Mother Miranda.”

Alcina clenches her jaw. She was not happy that you told Alexi that Mother Miranda was the cause of the events that day. It’s her gut-instinct to protect Mother Miranda’s image, to praise her and pledge loyalty to her, always. This gut instinct was something that never quite sat right with Alcina deep down, but until you came along she was able to shove those feelings aside so effortlessly she forgot they once existed. Now, it stares her in the face every day. Even though she’s not able to completely admit it to herself, each interaction with the Holy Mother is worse and worse. For now, she lets your conversation continue as the war inside of her rages on.

The silence that followed was not something you were expecting from Alexi, so you raise your eyes to see him staring at you wide-eyed and in shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“What did she do?”

“I can’t tell you. But please, trust me. Do not underestimate her. She is powerful, insanely powerful and I don’t know if anything could really ever stop her. But Alexi, you can’t tell anyone that she is dangerous. If she finds out that you are going against her she will have you killed or worse. I can’t lose you. So please, just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Go to the weekly mass, say the prayers, don’t make yourself a target, please.”

“I won’t. I promise.” He says as he takes a sip from the bottle and hands it back to you.

“Thank you.”

“So you really love her?”

Alcina’s ears perk up, the internal battle being set aside once again for now.

“Yes. I love her so much.”

“You think you’ll marry her?”

“I honestly don’t know. I have no idea how that would work, or if we would even be able to. But even if we didn’t, I would be happy spending the rest of my life with her in any way I could.”

Laying her hand over her heart, Alcina smiles at your response. She wants nothing more than to spend the rest of your mortal life with you. It fills her with such warmth and happiness knowing that you feel the same way.

“Will you ever get the gift?”

“Oh god no.”

“Why not?”

“Well, Mother Miranda is the one who gives them and first, she doesn’t like me nearly enough for me to become a Lord or something. Secondly, it doesn’t always work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes people are given the ‘gift’ and bad things happen. They die, or worse.”

“What’s worse?”

“Something worse than death.”

“The only thing that’s worse than death would be becoming a lycan and -” Alexi stops and his jaw drops. “Oh my god. Is that what’s been happening to the villagers that become lycans? She does that to them?”

“I can’t tell you.” You say, but the look you give him lets him know the truth. He goes to speak and you cut him off. “Alexi none of this can ever be repeated. Okay?”

“Alright, I promise, I won’t tell anyone.” He says, taking a sip of the bottle.

At this point, the two of you are just passing the bottle back and forth. The game you started out playing has long been abandoned.

“I can’t believe you really love her.” Alexi says.

“I know, I never expected it, but I do. I really, really do.”

Alexi goes to speak but is interrupted by the bells ringing, signaling the new hour. Alcina takes this as the perfect opportunity to make her presence known. The sound of her heels on the marble floors reaches the two of you and you both freeze. When she stands in front of the alcove, you and Alexi stare up at her like a pair of kids who were caught doing something they shouldn’t. Your cheeks burn with the slight embarrassment of being caught and Alexi looks terrified.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” She asks as she eyes the two of you.

“H-hey.” You say with a sheepish smile. “Nothing, we were just catching up.”

“Mhm. Catching up with a bottle of my wine?” Alcina asks as she grabs the bottle and inspects the label. Noticing it’s one of her better wines, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head at you. “As if Heisenberg hasn’t gone through enough of my good wine and liquor tonight. Where did you even get this from?”

“I’ll tell you but you promise you won’t get mad?”

Rolling her eyes at you, she reluctantly agrees. “Yes, I will not get mad.”

“I took it from a servant who was about to start passing out wine.”

“What a bad girl you are, draga.” Alcina says with a hint of teasing in her tone. Your heartbeat picks up when she calls you ‘bad girl’ and she smirks when she hears it. “Some of your guests are leaving and are requesting your presence.”

“Oh okay.” You say, shooting Alexi an apologetic look.

As you go to stand you stumble. The moment you stand up the wine decides to hit you all at once. Alcina moves to grab you and keep you steady with a firm grasp around your waist. Holding onto her arm for dear life, you can’t help but giggle.

“I think I might be a little too drunk to say goodbye right now.” You say as your giggling fit continues.

“Yes, it does seem that way.” Alcina says with a smile.

Alexi goes to stand and you offer him your hand. He’s a little wobbly when he stands, but still more stable than you are. Alcina gives him a look to leave and once he’s steady on his feet, he clears his throat.

“I should probably head back down to the party.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile.

Alexi gives you a hug before he leaves but Alcina’s hand stays firm at your side.

“So,” You begin to say, turning towards Alcina. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, draga. I am not.”

“Well that’s go-”

Alcina lifts you in her arms and pins you against the wall. Before you know it, her lips crash into yours and she kisses you fiercely. Your head spins, and not from the wine, and you moan into her mouth.

Once you need to breathe, Alcina pulls away but stays close enough so her nose nuzzles against yours.

“You look so incredibly beautiful tonight, draga. I’ve been waiting to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Before you can even respond, her lips are on yours again and her tongue is parting your lips, dancing with yours. One of her hands rests on the back of your head and you wrap your arms around her neck.

Her lips leave yours again and Alcina keeps you close.

“I love you so much, iubirea mea. I will never let any harm come to you ever again.” She begins to kiss down your jaw. “I will never let anyone hurt you. No one will ever harm you again.”

“I’m guessing you heard -”

“Yes.” She breaths, her hot breath ghosting across your flush skin. “You are mine.” Alcina’s kisses travel down your neck. “Mine. Mine and no one else’s. No one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Arching your neck to give her more access, the dizziness from the wine evaporates into love and lust for the woman pressed against you.

“I’m yours, Alcina. Only yours. Forever.”

A growl rips through Alcina’s throat and she holds you tighter, even more possessively. Her purring grows louder and you can tell that your words are stirring up a lot of feelings in both Alcina and her dragon.

“Mine.” She growls.

“Yours.”

Pulling back from your skin, Alcina’s eyes are a bright golden yellow. They capture your attention, unable to look away from the molten gold in her irises. Alcina begins to pull you away from the wall and you notice she takes off in the opposite direction of the ballroom.

“But the guests -”

“To hell with them.” She growls low. “I am taking you to bed. Right this instant before I rip that beautiful dress off of your body in this hallway.” Your cheeks redden more, and not from the alcohol. “Unless you would prefer for me to take you right here.”

“N-no.” You stutter, caught off guard by her statement. “The bedroom sounds lovely.”

Alcina raises an eyebrow at you and smirks. Her golden eyes are swirling with love, lust, and a pure desire, a nearly animalistic need to be close to you in every way possible. The look in her eye stirs up a heat in your belly and you cling to her tighter, eager with anticipation as the two of you reach her chamber doors.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: INK'D Hearts: Tattoos and Tangled Sheets Pairing: tattoo artist!hongjoong x afab!reader Genre: tattoo shop au, strangers to lovers, romantic, fluff, angst, smut, opposites attract Wordcount: 26.7k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: All you wanted was to have your first tattoo done and over with. How were you supposed to know that your tattoo artist would be this cute? For the sake of your sanity, you try to get over how good he looks—but fate seems to have other plans. Although you keep meeting, and even if you seem to fit well together, there's something, unbeknownst to you, holding Hongjoong back.

Warnings: reader is described as feminine but uses gn pronouns, corruption kink mentioned, dom/sub dynamics, kinky stuff happens, mentions of feeling insecure, lack of experience on reader's part, the rest of atz make an appearance briefly and are being a little annoying, underground band!atz, hongjoong and reader are opposites (hongjoong being more edgy, while reader is a little softer), mentions of smoking

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

Thank you @wongyuseokie for making this banner for me!

Masterlists

The music was loud in your headphones, but you couldn’t make out any of the words the band was singing - it was mostly there to distract you from your thoughts and the bustling city around you. For some reason, everyone and their mother decided to go out today. Walking towards the tattoo shop, you were forced to sneak around groups of people and snake through crowds. Ink’d was right around the corner of the popular market, a place which, unbeknownst to you, was holding a special event today. However, the crowds of people thinned out as you turned the corner down an alley. There were cafés, clothing stores, and hair salons in every other building. On top of each were fancy apartments, probably owned by the same people for the past forty years. However, your eyes didn’t wander much; as soon as you saw the sign for the shop, you didn’t need to look elsewhere. 

Looking down at your phone, you saw you were just on time for your appointment. Not even that could bring down your nerves. This was your very first tattoo appointment, and you had no idea what to expect. Some of your friends had tattoos, and their stories ranged from pretty okay to frightening. With their help, you found Ink’d — your friend, Seonghwa, had recommended you to go to one of the tattoo artists there. After looking through his work on Instagram, you decided to reach out. He was accommodating to your needs even over email and asked you to come in today to see what he could do for you. Despite all of the help and how kind the artist seemed to be, you were still nervous. 

As you stood in front of the tattoo shop, you debated on not going in. You could send an email to the artist and tell him that you were sorry, but you just couldn’t go through with this. It would be rude on such short notice, but you were practically shitting yourself in fear at the thought of having needles poke your skin with ink. The reflective surface of the doors mocked you, but you still couldn’t go in. The shop wasn’t big, but it didn’t need to be to get your attention. The walls were painted dark blue, and the sign that hung above the door was in the shape of a splotch of ink. In the middle of the sign, in big bold letters, it said INK’D. Great. Even the sign intimidated you. 

You looked down at yourself, at your baggy pants and oversized sweater - anything to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Was it good enough for this place? You wouldn’t know until you walked inside. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open… but it didn’t open. On the handle of the door, it very clearly said ‘PULL’, something you had managed to miss. Pushing down the embarrassment for the sake of the tattoo you were about to get, you pulled the door open and walked inside. 

The tile floors looked old like they had been there since the building was made. The edges of the pretty design were chipped, and a few places were missing entire tiles. It was a part of its charm. The walls, on the other hand, were newly painted white - but you couldn’t tell seeing as they were filled with frames. From floor to ceiling, there were paintings and pictures of all kinds covering the shop’s walls—posters of various artists, photos of artwork and clients, and photographs from abstract to realistic. Your attention was suddenly drawn to the reception. A man with cherry red hair and a playful smile stood behind the desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” he asked.

The first thing you noticed about him was how his eyes pierced your soul. His gaze was kind yet powerful, to the point where you almost wanted to look away. This look was only amplified by the thin layer of liner that lined his eyes. His bright red hair looked like it was slightly grown out, but it wasn’t long enough to cover the many piercings along his earlobes. Silver jewelry dangled from his ears, they matched the silver chain around his neck and the rings that adorned his fingers. The tight, black t-shirt he was wearing revealed his toned arms covered with ink. Delicate designs and images adorned his skin, and you could only imagine how many tattoos he had. A few peeked out from under his collar, but you couldn’t make out what the black ink on his neck was supposed to be. You could study this man for hours, but you had to answer him at some point.

“Uh… yes! Hi.” You approached the desk as you fiddled with the edge of your sleeves. “I’m here for an appointment… it should be under Y/L/N Y/N, I’m here to meet Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh, Y/N, hey…” He looked at his computer, the smile still playing on his lips. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Hongjoong.”

He looked up at you again, his eyes locking onto yours with that same piercing gaze that seemed to see right through you. A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt yourself growing weak in the knees. This was the man who was going to tattoo you? The thought of the needle was already enough to make your heart race, but now, you had to contend with the added pressure of trying not to make an absolute fool of yourself in front of the impossibly attractive tattoo artist.

His sharp jawline and the confident way he carried himself only added to your nervousness. You watched as he adjusted his glasses, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as if he could sense your inner turmoil. He turned back to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard – his nails were painted black, the polish chipped around the edges and almost completely scratched off on some nails. The stark contrast against his fair skin was striking.

As he continued typing, you couldn't help but steal glances at his hands, wondering about the stories behind each stroke of polish. What kind of person was he outside of this tattoo parlor? Your mind raced with questions, each one adding another layer to the mystery that was this man.

When he finally turned back to you, a professional yet warm smile on his face, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “First tattoo, right?” he asked, his voice smooth and reassuring.

“Yeah, it is.” You nodded and looked around the shop while Hongjoong kept typing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a tattoo shop before.”

“Is that why it took you so long to get in?” he said in a teasing tone.

You looked back at him, only to see him grinning. His smile was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly despite your nerves. In his hands was a clipboard with a paper on it, which he handed to you along with a pen. Your eyes widened as you realized that the glossy, dark walls were actually windows, through which he could very much see outside. The realization added a new layer of vulnerability to your already jittery state.

“Sorry, I’m just teasing,” he quickly added, his voice softening. “I get that you’re nervous. So, why don’t you fill this form out, and then we’ll talk over what we’re going to do today? Does that sound good, love?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the unexpected pet name, and instead of a coherent answer, an awkward cough escaped your lips. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you clutched the clipboard to your chest, nodding quickly before making your way over to one of the couches in the waiting area. The soft leather cushions welcomed you, and you sank into them, wishing you could stay there instead of going through with your appointment.

With a sigh, you placed your bag beside you and began to fill out the form. Your hands trembled slightly as you scribbled your name, date of birth, and other required details. The background noise of the shop – the hum of the tattoo machines, the low murmur of other conversations, and the soft rock music playing in the background – started to blend into a soothing symphony, helping to calm your racing heart.

You glanced up occasionally, watching Hongjoong as he moved confidently around his workspace. There was something mesmerizing about the way he carried himself, a blend of focus and ease that only came from years of experience. It was reassuring to know you were in capable hands.

As you continued to fill out the form, your mind wandered to the design you had chosen. It was something personal, a symbol of strength and transformation that you had wanted for years. Now, on the brink of making it a permanent part of you, the mixture of excitement and apprehension was almost overwhelming.

When you finally finished the form, you took a deep breath and stood up, clutching the clipboard as if it were a lifeline. You made your way back to Hongjoong, who looked up from his computer with a reassuring smile.

“All done?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You nodded, handing him the clipboard. “Yeah, all done.”

“Great,” he said, scanning the form quickly before setting it aside, and he looked through them before giving you a pleased smile. Maybe it was your nerves, but your heart jolted at his smile. You wanted – no, needed – to please him like that again. “Let’s go to my studio and get started, yeah?”

His studio had the same intricate, patterned tiles on the floor as the waiting room, their glossy finish reflecting the ambient light and adding a touch of elegance to the space. However, the walls were painted a deep, matte black, providing a stark contrast that made the room feel both intimate and edgy. The black surface served as a canvas for vibrant spray paint art – swirls of neon colors and abstract designs that burst forth with energy and creativity. Interspersed among the graffiti were various posters, some showcasing famous tattoos, and others featuring artwork from local artists, lending a personal touch to the décor.

In one corner of the room, a small, well-organized desk sat neatly against the wall. On its surface were a sleek laptop, a modern desk lamp casting a warm glow, and a few neatly stacked papers. The desk exuded a sense of efficiency and order. Beside it stood a modest chair, perfectly pushed in and out of the way, maintaining the room's open and uncluttered feel.

The focal point of the studio was undoubtedly the tattoo chair, positioned prominently in the middle of the room. It was upholstered in smooth black leather, looking both comfortable and professional. Adjacent to it was a matching black leather stool, presumably for Hongjoong to use while working. Next to the chair stood a metal cart, meticulously organized with an array of tattooing materials – inks in a spectrum of colors, sterilized needles, and various other tools of the trade, all within easy reach.

The room was imbued with a sophisticated aroma that hinted at luxury and care. The air was filled with the delicate scents of bergamot, blackcurrant, and jasmine, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and intoxicating. You couldn't quite tell if the source of this enchanting fragrance was the candle burning softly on his desk or Hongjoong's own cologne. Either way, the scent wrapped around your senses, creating a foggy, almost dreamlike state as you took it all in.

Hongjoong moved closer to you, his presence both reassuring and electrifying. The scent intensified as he approached, enveloping you completely and making everything else fade into the background. His hand hovered right behind your upper back, guiding you towards the tattoo chair.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “You can sit down right here and we’ll discuss what I can do for you today.”

He took his laptop from his desk and sat down on the stool next to you. You jumped onto the tattoo chair, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Looking down at the floor, you saw Hongjoong’s polished leather boots next to your beat-up sneakers. Everything about him was somehow messy and pristine at the same time — delicate and coarse.

“You got my design idea, right?” you asked to break the silence.

“I did. It’s pretty.” He looked up at you with a friendly smile. “I took the liberty of drawing something up with it as inspiration, do you want to have a look?”

Before you could respond, Hongjoong turned the laptop so that you could see the design. It was a lotus flower, just like your reference picture, and connected to it were elegant, curved lines that stretched out a few inches away from it. It looked like small water droplets were attached to the flower and lines, some of them falling freely.

“What do we think?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured and leaned in closer. “Your art style is so graceful.”

“You’d be the first to say that.” He let out a laugh and pulled the laptop away from you. “This is a little further away from what I usually do. But this suits your tastes, right?”

“Definitely.” You nodded and watched him gather a few things.

“And it’s going to sit right by your hip?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll go ahead and print out a stencil for you. How big do you want it to be?” He put his hands up and measured in the air. “About this big?”

“That looks good,” you answered.

“I’ll get that sorted for you then, love.”

Hongjoong left you alone in his studio, and your muscles finally relaxed. When Seonghwa recommended him, he said nothing about how good-looking and charming he was. Now you wish that you had tried a little harder to get one of your friends to go with you. Being all alone with him only made you more nervous. When Hongjoong came back, he walked over to his desk and picked up his glasses. The thin black frames sat on the tip of his nose as he studied the stencil in his hands. With a proud nod, he showed you the stencil to get your approval.

“Good size?” he asked as he walked up to you.

“It’s good.” You nodded, your fingers playing with the hem of your sweater. 

He looked at you closely, inspecting your nervous fidgeting and the way your eyes flickered around the room. Sitting back on the stool, Hongjoong got right up next to you. The intoxicating scent made you dizzy again, and you put your hand beside you to stabilize yourself.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just a little,” you admitted with an awkward chuckle.

“That’s okay.” He motioned for you to lay down on the chair and you did as he said. “I’ll put the stencil on you, then you can take a look at it and tell me what you think. Is it okay if I pull up your sweater?”

You nodded and helped him move away your clothes. When the sweater was out of the way, you moved your hands to your pants. They already sat low on your hips, but you loosened the strings and pulled them down enough to expose the entirety of your hip bone. Hongjoong was talking as he put on the stencil, walking you through the steps as he was doing it. His soft voice calmed your nerves and seeing as you didn’t have to look directly at him, your heart started calming down as well. When he peels away the stencil, revealing blue lines on your skin, you look down at his hands.

“There you go, love.” He pushed up his glasses and looked up at you with a smile. “There’s a mirror over there, why don’t you go look at it and tell me if you like the placement.”

You hummed and carefully got off the chair. While you walked over to the mirror, Hongjoong prepared his station. The blue ink looked good against your skin, mostly because of the design. This is why you have been wanting to get a tattoo for so long. You smiled to yourself, looking past the nerves and bubbly feeling in your stomach that you got from looking at Hongjoong.

“It’s perfect,” you chimed.

You walked back over to the leather chair, which was now covered in a protective sheet. A bright smile was painted on your lips as you sat down in front of him again. Something sparkled in Hongjoong’s eyes just then, and you couldn't figure out what it was but you knew that you wanted to see it again. 

“So… uhm…” He scratched the back of his neck and pretended to look for something. “Is the placement and size all good? You’re allowed to change anything, you know? I won’t be upset.”

His reassurance only made you more comfortable. The nerves that had made you want to puke just a few minutes ago, were now suddenly gone. Hongjoong looked back at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, still looking for an answer from you.

“Oh, yes. It’s good. I like it,” you said. “Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal.” He got closer to you, the wheels on his stool easily rolling over the ground. “You can lay back down and I’ll start as soon as you’re comfortable.”

He had black rubber gloves on now, a stark contrast to the delicate silver rings that lay on his desk. The rings, intricate in design, caught the light and glinted, a reminder of the careful preparation Hongjoong had undertaken for your session. His cart was meticulously organized, filled with the colors you had requested. Each ink bottle stood ready, a spectrum of possibilities waiting to be brought to life on your skin.

The tattoo gun in his hand looked like the tip of a small drill, its precision and purpose unmistakable. A medical-blue plastic wrap covered the cord attached to it, ensuring everything remained sterile. Hongjoong began to explain the process, his voice calm and reassuring, a professional easing the nerves of a first-time client. He gently pushed away your clothes, ensuring they weren’t in the way, his movements careful and considerate. The touch of his gloved hands was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you felt spreading from your core.

You couldn’t help but focus on the way he was inspecting the skin where your stencil was placed. His eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed the area, ensuring everything was perfect before beginning. Your breath caught in your throat, the moment feeling surreal and significant. His red hair, vibrant and striking, hung slightly over his eyes despite his efforts to push it back. The black roots of his natural hair had started growing out, a subtle detail that you could only notice from this close proximity.

He looked up at you then, and your eyes met. Behind his glasses, his gaze was intense and focused, yet there was a softness there that put you at ease. His eyes, framed by the sharp lines of his glasses, seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a silent communication that everything was going to be alright.

“Does that sound good, love?” he asked.

“Sorry?” You had forgotten to listen to what he was saying.

“I’m going to give you a warning before I put the needle on your skin,” he repeated. “Does that sound good?”

“Yeah, it does…”

You leaned your head back against the chair and shut your eyes tightly. Hongjoong warned you that he was going to start, and you clutched the bunched-up fabric of your sweater tighter. It wasn’t comfortable, of course, but it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. 

Hongjoong worked fast, and when he was halfway done he asked if you needed to take a break. You agreed as you were starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“Could you hand me my bag?” you asked shyly.

Your bag was hanging by the door, and Hongjoong quickly walked over to it and picked it up for you. While you pulled out your water bottle and an energy bar, Hongjoong massaged his wrist. He looked over at you with the same playful smile he had worn when you first walked in. 

“Do you have friends with tattoos or something?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“No, it’s just… you seem to know what to do despite this being your first tattoo.” He sat back on his stool, right by your side. “You know Seonghwa, right?”

“He’s the one who recommended that I should go to you.” You nodded. “To be honest, I didn’t even know he had tattoos.”

“Well, I think he only recommended me because we’re friends,” he said and your eyes widened. “He has a tattoo on his back, but I didn’t do that one for him.”

“Seonghwa never told me you were friends…” you muttered, wondering why he had refused to come with you if he was friends with the tattoo artist. You put away your things and dropped your bag by the side of the chair. Hongjoong took the hint and got ready to get back to work.

“I’m sure he just didn’t think of telling you,” he muttered. “He texted me last night to tell me you were nervous about the appointment.”

His words hit you like a bag of bricks. Not only was Seonghwa friends with this guy, but he was also texting him about you. Maybe that was why Hongjoong had been so friendly from the beginning. You had the feeling that he had a constant natural charm, but his comforting words and kind smiles had made you think that maybe you were receiving special treatment for reasons other than friend-nepotism.

“Is it okay if I start again?” Hongjoong’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you mumbled and closed your eyes as he put the needle into your skin again.

At the end of your session, the skin around your hip felt raw and sensitive, a testament to the meticulous work that had just been done. Hongjoong gently wiped off your skin with a wet paper towel, the coolness providing a brief respite from the heat and discomfort. His touch was careful, almost tender, as he ensured that no excess ink or blood marred the final reveal of your new tattoo.

"Go take a look in the mirror," he said, his voice soft and encouraging. You nodded, taking a deep breath before gingerly sliding off the chair. Your legs felt slightly shaky, both from the adrenaline rush and the prolonged stillness of the session. As you steadied yourself, you could feel Hongjoong's reassuring presence nearby, ready to assist if you needed it.

With cautious steps, you made your way over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. The anticipation built with each step, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. When you finally stood in front of the mirror, you took a moment to compose yourself before lifting your shirt slightly to reveal your hip.

The fresh lines of the tattoo contrasted beautifully against your skin. Despite the slight irritation that surrounded the new ink, the design was incredibly striking. The intricate details and vibrant colors were even more stunning than you had imagined.

“This is gorgeous.” You gasped and turned back around to Hongjoong.

With your sweater still bunched up you showed him the piece with a small smile, as if he hadn’t been looking at it for the past few hours. Still, he approached you and crouched down a little to inspect it. He wore a small, giddy smile; you couldn’t help but think that for someone who looked like he could kill you with a single glare, his mannerisms were awfully cute. After giving you a proud nod, he backed away from you.

“Some of my best work,” he commented. “Do you mind if I take a picture of it and put it on my Instagram?”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

Hongjoong went to look for his phone and you stayed in the same position, with your sweater still bunched up and your pants almost falling off due to the strings being untied. It was an awkward position, but you didn’t know if you were allowed to move yet. Hongjoong soon came back with his phone in hand and crouched down right in front of you to take a picture of your hip and waist.

“Thank you.” He stood back up and inspected the photo as you put your clothes on properly. “Oh, hold on– before you put everything back on, I have to wrap it up for you.”

You froze as you were about to pull on the string of your pants, and Hongjoong let out a panicked laugh as he went over to the cart with materials. He took out a roll of some white plastic with green stripes in a criss-cross pattern and a big blue line in the middle of it. When he came back to you, he measured it to the size of the tattoo before he cut it off. 

“This is Second Skin,” he said and parted it open in the middle of the blue line. “It’ll feel a bit weird, but you’ll get used to it pretty quickly.”

He pulled off a top layer and pressed the now sticky side to your stomach. His hands were warm now that he didn’t have the rubber gloves on. A shiver sent down your spine as he smoothed out the plastic against your skin. After he expertly pulled away another plastic layer, the Second Skin lived up to its name - you barely felt it. You were much too distracted by the loss of Hongjoong’s hands against your abdomen.

“I’ll give you some more of this stuff so that you can reapply it yourself after twenty-four hours. Then you’re going to want to leave this on for three to five days, and then peel it off under running water. It’s not difficult at all, just take one of the top corners and slowly take it off,” he explained as he examined his application. “You might get some ink bubbles in there, that’s fine you can just leave it- and if your skin gets red where the plastic is applied, that’s normal too. If you’re unsure, you can always just send me an email.”

You hummed and turned back to the mirror, inspecting the now plastic-covered tattoo. You caught Hongjoong’s eyes on you in the mirror, but he wasn’t looking at the tattoo. He was just looking at you - all of you. However, his eyes quickly diverted as he saw that you had caught him in the act.

“Thank you,” you said as you went back to tying the strings to your pants. “I really love it.”

“I’m glad,” he answered. “Listen, I’ve got to go out to the reception- but take as long as you need to get yourself ready. We’ll handle the payment as soon as you’re done, and I’ll get you some more Second Skin and a lotion you can use at home. On the house.”

“Oh, no- I’ll pay for it, I don’t mind,” you argued.

“You’re Seonghwa’s friend, he’d get mad at me if I didn’t.” He walked towards the door to give you some privacy. “Besides, it’s your first tattoo- I have to give you some incentive to come back.”

As if you didn’t have enough reason to come back already…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next few days, all you could think about was your cute tattoo artist. Hongjoong's comforting atmosphere, his pretty smile, and his charming words were plaguing both your waking and sleeping hours. His presence lingered in your thoughts, like a sweet yet torturous melody you couldn’t escape. During the day, you found yourself daydreaming about his soft eyes and the way he had meticulously worked on your tattoo. At night, your dreams were filled with his voice, his touch, and the mesmerizing red of his hair. It was as if he had left an indelible mark not just on your skin, but on your mind and heart as well.

Conversations with your friends became dominated by your incessant musings about him. "I can't believe I didn’t ask for his number," you would lament, your frustration palpable. Your friends, patient at first, were growing tired of your constant complaints. Their sympathetic nods were starting to turn into exasperated eye-rolls. "Just ask Seonghwa for his number," they would suggest, not realizing that this simple solution was a source of internal conflict for you.

Seonghwa was the one person you hadn’t confided in about your infatuation. Now that you knew he was friends with the red-haired man, you didn’t dare tell him a thing. The thought of revealing your feelings to Seonghwa filled you with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. When he asked how your tattoo appointment went, you kept your response strictly about the tattooing process, carefully avoiding any mention of the charming artist who had captured your heart.

A week had passed since your tattoo appointment, and you found yourself in a bar with your friends, trying to shake off the haze of infatuation that seemed to follow you everywhere. The Second Skin had been removed, revealing your tattoo in all its healed glory. Despite the itchy phase that had begun, you did your absolute best not to scratch or touch it, knowing how crucial this period was for the healing process. Each prickling sensation on your hip served as a reminder of Hongjoong, making it even harder to move on.

You nursed your drink in your hands, staring into the glass with sad, distracted eyes. The ambient chatter and laughter of the bar did little to lift your spirits. As your friends' conversation ebbed, they noticed your slumped shoulders and the faraway look in your eyes.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking about him again.” One of your friends groaned.

“They can’t help that they have a crush!” Another one defended you.

You looked up at all of them. They quieted down as you opened your mouth to say something. However, you quickly shut your mouth again and went to chug your drink instead. The glass hit the table as you finished it, and you hissed at the feeling in your throat.

"Hey, you okay?" one of them asked, their voice tinged with concern.

You looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"About him again?" another friend teased gently, though their eyes were sympathetic.

You sighed deeply, swirling the liquid in your glass. "I just can't get him out of my head. It's like he's everywhere I turn."

"Maybe it's a sign," one friend suggested. "Maybe you should just go back to the shop and see him again. You know, for a touch-up or something."

The idea sent a jolt of both excitement and fear through you. The thought of seeing Hongjoong again was intoxicating, but so was the fear of making a fool of yourself. "I don't know," you murmured. "I don’t want to come off as desperate."

"Desperate? No way. You’re just interested. There's nothing wrong with that," another friend chimed in. "Besides, from what you've told us, he seemed pretty interested in you too."

“Just go back to the shop and ask him out. If you won’t ask Seonghwa for help, you have to help yourself.”

Their words gave you a flicker of hope, though your insecurities quickly tried to snuff it out. "Maybe," you conceded, taking a sip of your drink.

As the night went on, you continued to ponder their advice, your mind a whirl of possibilities and anxieties. The itch of your healing tattoo was a constant reminder of the artist who had given it to you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if fate was nudging you to take a chance.

A couple of days later, you were standing outside of INK’D once again. You had even dressed up for the occasion, which now felt a little pathetic. Nevertheless, you walked up to the door and pulled it open. It looked exactly as it had the last time you were there, which shouldn’t be a surprise since it hadn’t been that long. Glancing around the shop, you couldn’t find Hongjoong anywhere. Until you heard his laugh, you were starting to think that he wasn’t even there. 

Your eyes immediately followed the sound of his gentle laugh. Behind the reception, stood Hongjoong as he talked with a customer. The shop hadn’t changed, but Hongjoong certainly had. His hair was now shorter and bleach blond, he had a new eyebrow piercing that matched his other silver jewelry, and you could swear that he had gotten even more tattoos - but maybe that was just because he wore a more revealing shirt. The customer on the other side of the desk was a gorgeous woman, who looked to be just a few years older than you. Her arms were also covered in tattoos, and her hair was dyed a fiery red almost like Hongjoong had before. The two of them were leaning against the counter, talking about something that was apparently very interesting - seeing as Hongjoong’s eyes were completely transfixed on her.

You felt stupid in your cute crop top and midi-skirt, feeling the need to hide the single tattoo that you had purposefully left exposed earlier - being surrounded by people who had tattoos all over their skin somehow made you feel self-conscious of only having one, almost to the point that it would’ve felt better to have none at all. The customer paid and left. You were about to follow her out, but it was too late. Hongjoong had spotted you.

“Y/N, you’re back!” he said as you reluctantly approached the counter. “Is everything okay? Is the tattoo healing as it should?”

He looked a little worried, and it hit you that coming in unannounced like this may cause suspicion. This was the last thing you wanted. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and an anxious clump building up in the back of your throat.

“Oh, the tattoo's fine, really, it's just a little itchy right now—well, more than a little, actually—but I know that's part of the process and I'm trying my best not to scratch it, even though it's really tempting. You said it would be like this while it heals, right? So I'm not too worried, but I can't help feeling a bit anxious about it. I'm just reminding myself it's normal, and honestly, I can't wait to see how it looks once it's fully healed," you rambled but stopped as you saw Hongjoong smiling at you.

His eyes were warm and gentle, but his smile was playful. It was a cruel combination of features to put on such a kind man. Why did everything about him have to leave you speechless? Your long pause caused Hongjoong to speak up.

“Did you come in to book another appointment then, or what’s up?”

He leaned against the counter again, looking up at you with sparkling eyes. The new hair suited him, although it looked like it had gotten a little damaged. Still, he looked just as pretty as last time, and you felt your words get caught up in your throat. You couldn’t ask him out, not now or ever.

“I wanted to…” You looked over at a sign about drop-in piercings that stood on the counter, standing there like your savior. “...get a piercing.”

The words came out of you before you could process them. You had been thinking of getting another piercing soon, but you had no plans on doing it today. However, it was the only way for you to get out of the awkward position you were about to put yourself in.

“Ah, really?” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but you almost thought he looked disappointed for a second. “Well, our piercer is out for lunch at the moment, so you’d have to wait for a while- that is if you don’t mind that I do it. I’ve done piercings before, but it’s been a while.”

“I don’t mind.” You heard yourself saying. To be fair, you were only there to see him - so having him pierce you maybe wouldn’t be so bad.

So there you were. Back in Hongjoong’s room, sitting on his leather tattoo chair. This time it was lower to the ground, allowing him to get closer to your head. You had decided on another ear piercing, adding to the ones that were already there. Hongjoong had stepped out to get his coworker’s equipment, and you were left alone with your thoughts. The prickly feeling under your skin wouldn’t go away, no matter how many deep breaths you took. You had one thing to do today, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to do it. Technically, you didn’t even have the money for a piercing - the tattoo was supposed to be the thing you treated yourself with after working so much lately, so you had only budgeted for that. You were lucky that the piercings weren’t as expensive.

“Alright, this should be all that I need.” Hongjoong snatched you out of your thoughts as he slipped back into the room. 

He organized his station on the rolling table beside your chair. You watched his ringed fingers, admiring his pretty painted nails - wondering if he made the cute designs on them himself. His hands moved quickly and steadily, his eyes analyzing the different items he had brought with him. Despite saying that he hadn’t done this in a while, it certainly looked like he had. Everything about him was authentic, in a way that was both comforting and intimidating.

“Nervous?” he asked. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m just thinking,” you admitted, and he turned to you with a piqued interest. 

“Want to share what’s in that pretty little head of yours, then?” The words came out of him so naturally that it almost felt wrong that your body had such a strong reaction to them. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Work mostly,” you lied and looked down at your dangling feet as you desperately tried to find another subject to talk about. “Does this piercing hurt a lot?”

“It’ll sting,” he admits and looks up at you with that warm smile of his. “But I’ll be gentle, love.”

If Hongjoong wasn’t staring right at you, you’d clutch your chest and lean back against the chair at his words. Instead, you’re gripping the edge of the seat, and hoping that it’s not too obvious that he’s got such an effect on you. An “okay,” that sounded more like a peep than a word, came bubbling up your throat, and Hongjoong stifled a laugh at, what you could only assume was, your innate ability to make a fool out of yourself.

“I’m going to puncture the skin with this.” Hongjoong held up a needle to you. “And then I’ll push in this piercing.” He showed you a simple stud that matched the rest of the metals you were wearing. You nodded carefully, giving him a worried glance. It has been a while since your last piercing and even though you knew you had nothing to be scared of, you couldn’t help but be irrational. Hongjoong notices your nervous state and puts his hand on your knee. His palm is warm, burning through the material of your midi skirt.

“You’ve got this.” That was all he said before he stood up beside you.

His head was right by yours as he angled the needle against the ink dot he had placed on your skin earlier. You could feel his breath against your skin, his warmth radiating from his chest. This man had to secretly be a radiator with the amount of heat he was giving off. You closed your eyes as the tip of the needle made contact with your ear.

“Ready?” Hongjoong asked.

“Yeah,” you murmured back.

The needle prodded through your skin, and it stung just as he said it would. A quiet gasp flew out of you as he pierced through your ear. Hongjoong left the needle and grabbed the small stud again.

“You’re doing so good,” he mumbled as he fidgeted with the earring. “I’m almost done, love.”

You took a deep breath and Hongjoong got back to work. Before you knew it, you had a new piercing.

Your right ear was burning ever so slightly as you were making your purchase at the front desk. You found yourself frequently trying to touch your ear, and then quickly putting your hand down again at the sight of Hongjoong’s warning glare. His small talk had quieted down as you pushed in your code to complete the transaction. The lack of words exchanged only made the air feel more stuffy. When the receipt rolls out of the machine, Hongjoong quickly grabs it and hands it to you. Your hand brushes against his as you take it, and sparks are sent flying through your bloodstream. This was your last chance to ask him out…

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he said with a wink, and your words got stuck in your throat.

“Thanks!” you squeak out before turning on your heel and all but bolting out of the tattoo shop.

That night, you met up with your friends at your usual bar, sporting new earrings but still no love confession to speak of. Your friends were almost more annoyed with you than you were with yourself for the lack of action. As soon as you told them the story, they all groaned in unison, a chorus of exasperation that filled the dimly lit space.

"You've got to be kidding me," one of them said, shaking their head. "What happened this time?"

“I said ‘Thanks!’ when I left, like an idiot.” You groaned and put your head in your hands.

“What? How is that bad?”

You tried to explain, telling them how Hongjoong was just out of your league and how you didn't have the guts to ask him out. They weren't having it, though. They kept trying to hype you up, their voices a mix of encouragement and frustration. "Come on, you can't give up now!" one urged, while another complained about your tendency to chicken out.

Drinks were downed in rapid succession, the alcohol fueling your emotions. Tiny shouts of anger and regret burst from your lips every so often, punctuating the lively conversation. Each time you vented, your friends would nod sympathetically or roll their eyes, depending on how many times they'd heard the same lament.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to a night of self-pity, you saw Seonghwa walking towards your table. Your body reacted on its own, your hand shooting up to point at him. In your slightly inebriated state, your finger ended up pointing slightly past him. One of your friends quickly helped you correct your aim, turning your arm toward the startled man.

"You know Hongjoong!" you blurted out as if this was news to him.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What happened to 'hello'? 'How was your day?' 'Was work okay?' You have to relax," he said, his tone gentle as he sat down on the chair in front of yours. "I heard that you didn’t ask him out."

You felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. "Do you know when his next shift is?" you asked, ignoring his attempt to make small talk.

Seonghwa sighed, a mix of amusement and mild frustration. "In two days, I think... why?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I'm going back," you declared, mostly to yourself but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I won’t chicken out this time!"

Your friends erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable. "That's the spirit!" one of them exclaimed, raising their glass in a toast. "To not chicken out!"

Seonghwa smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Just be yourself," he advised, his voice kind. "Hongjoong's a good guy."

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The night continued with more drinks and lively conversation, but this time, there was a spark of hope in your heart. As the evening wound down, you found yourself thinking about what you would say to Hongjoong, rehearsing possible scenarios in your mind.

When you finally left the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief. Your friends hugged you goodbye, their encouragement ringing in your ears. "You've got this," they assured you, their support unwavering.

You regret your words as you stand in front of the tattoo shop, two days later. Nevertheless, you’re determined to do it. Partially because it was about damn time, but also because Seonghwa had relentlessly teased you about not being able to do it, and now you can’t face him ever again if you fail. You haven’t had a date in at least a year, and this was the first guy in real life you’d found remotely attractive since then. He was attractive, kind, and just your type. It was now or never—you just had to go for it. With what you hoped were confident steps, you walked up to the door and swung it open... only to find the shop empty. The sound of someone rustling around in the back rooms caught your attention.

“Hello?” you called out, walking up to the receptionist's desk.

“Just a second!” It was Hongjoong’s voice, coming from further inside the shop.

Sure enough, Hongjoong walked out of his tattoo room thirty seconds later. His hair was still a blond mess, but now he was wearing a perfectly fitted, black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. If you hadn’t been able to restrain yourself, your jaw would be on the floor. He wore a customer service smile, which faltered at the sight of you, turning into a genuine grin. He walked up to the reception with a spring in his step.

“Getting multiple things done in a week, huh?” he said, a playful look in his eyes. “Are you a masochist or something?”

The previous confidence you felt transformed into a ball of shame in your chest. You couldn’t look him in the eyes as your face grew hotter and hotter. Hongjoong noticed your freak-out and immediately went into panic mode himself.

“Oh shit—I'm sorry, I don’t know why I said that. That was too far—”

“It’s okay—”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“I’m not offended—”

“Please don’t take this as a bad reflection of the shop, I don’t know why—”

“I came here to ask you out.”

The words flew out of you without warning, catching both you and Hongjoong off guard. They lingered in the air as the tension built up until it was thick enough to cut with a knife. The longer it took him to answer, the more anxious you were getting. With a soft, pitiful chuckle, you looked down at your shoes.

“Never mind,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry—it was stupid—”

“No, Y/N—”

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t feel pressured to say anything, please.” You looked back up at him and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for everything, I’ll be… I’ll leave.”

Without waiting another second to hear his response, you turned around and walked out of the shop, shame weighing down your shoulders.

For the next few days, you stayed in bed for most of the day, only going out to go to work or get groceries. You’d do anything to avoid your friends, and you were doing everything in your power to never see Hongjoong again. Have you planned on going to him for another tattoo sometime in the future? Yes, but that was out of the question now. The scene kept replaying in your head—his shocked expression and how poorly you had handled it. You couldn’t remember the last time you had made that big of a fool of yourself.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you kept replaying every detail of that embarrassing encounter. You wondered what possessed you to blurt out your feelings like that, why you hadn’t just played it cool or at least waited for a more appropriate moment. Each time you thought about it, a fresh wave of humiliation washed over you. Your friends' encouraging words now felt like cruel jokes. Why would he ever go out with you? It was stupid to even let your friends suggest that you should go for it.

Every time your phone buzzed with a message from Seonghwa or anyone else, you felt a pang of anxiety, worried it was another reminder of your failed confession. You avoided social media, not wanting to see anything that might remind you of Hong or the tattoo shop. Even the sight of your tattoo in the mirror was enough to send you spiraling back into regret.

Days blended into each other, each one marked by a series of small, mundane tasks that you performed on autopilot. The only solace you found was in the brief moments of distraction that work could provide. Yet, even in those moments, Hongjoong’s image—his smile, his kindness, and that playful glint in his eye—kept creeping back into your mind.

Why did it have to be so difficult? You’d always been so cautious, so careful with your heart, and now this one act of bravery—or foolishness—had left you feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever before. The fear of facing rejection again loomed large, and you couldn’t bear the thought of putting yourself through that kind of pain once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On the seventh day, there was a knock at your apartment door. Thinking that it was the food you had ordered, you begrudgingly made your way to your door. To avoid having a stranger see the mess of a state you were in, you only opened it far enough for someone to pass the bag of food to you. A perfectly manicured hand wrapped around the side of your door and pulled it all the way open.

“Seonghwa!” Your eyes widened at the man in front of you.

“It’s been four days and you’ve declined all of our meetups,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. It wasn’t as if you had gone through heartbreak, or had broken up with a long-term partner, but Seonghwa always managed to get you to crack as soon as you were remotely upset. You threw your arms around him and sobbed against his chest.

“I fucked up, and he totally hates me now!” you wailed in between sobs.

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh and gently patted your back as he invited himself inside. While it was difficult to move around while still holding him, you refused to let go. Your friend stayed with you by your front door, patting your back and mumbling “there, there” every few seconds. After some time of crying, your sobs slowly dying down, there was another knock at the door.

“Food delivery!”

“Coming!” Seonghwa answered. “Go inside, okay? I’ll get that for you, and then we can sit down and talk.”

Seonghwa made himself a cup of tea while you ate your dinner. He hadn’t said anything since the delivery guy had left, and you were trying your best to ignore the tension growing from it. You could practically hear him thinking from where you sat on your couch. Seonghwa was simply watching you from the kitchen counter, where he was leaning and sipping his tea, and waiting for you to make the first move.

“I may have overreacted,” you finally said after finishing your plate. “But I don’t think I’ll ever see him again- just out of embarrassment, really.”

“So you asked him out and he said no?” Seonghwa approached the couch and sat down next to you.

“Well, not really…” You looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to tell him we talked, right? I know you’re friends, he told me.”

“I know he told you.” He sighed and put down his cup on your coffee table. “And no, I won’t tell him anything. I’m your friend too, you know?”

“How can I be so sure when you didn’t even tell me that you have a tattoo?” you argued playfully. “How have you hidden a back tattoo from everyone?”

“Don’t change the subject,” he warned. “What happened? Did he say no?”

“Hasn’t he told you already?”

“I haven’t seen him since last week.”

“Oh…” You fidgeted with your fingers and took a deep breath before continuing. “I walked in there, got nervous, and blurted it out like an idiot. He looked so shocked that I just walked out…”

“You didn’t even let him answer?” Seonghwa exclaimed.

You put your head in your hands with a big groan. Falling on your side, you put your head on your friend’s lap - silently asking him to pat your back again. Seonghwa put a hand on your shoulder, while the other played with your hair. You wanted so desperately to know his secrets to have his shit together, but you knew that he’d never tell you — instead, he’d just tell you that you’ll “figure it out.” Whatever that means.

“I just wanted to spare him from having to let me down,” you explained. “It was written all over his face.”

“Y/N, you wouldn’t know what that guy was thinking even if it actually was written on his face,” Seonghwa answered with another sigh. “I can talk to him for you if you want to.”

“You’re not my mom,” you said, “And he’s not my middle school bully.”

“No, you’re right, I’m your mutual friend who could settle this miscommunication…”

You sat back up, facing away from Seonghwa. Rationally, you knew that he was right and that you probably should try to smooth things over. However, you didn’t want to make it worse by not being able to do it yourself. 

“I’m fine, I promise,” you muttered.

“Okay…” He stood up and walked over to your door. “Then you’re coming out with me tomorrow. At our usual place, around eight, okay? Dress up cute, you deserve to feel luxurious.”

“Fine.”

At eight PM the next day, you’re standing outside the bar where you’d promise Seonghwa you’d meet him. To make yourself feel better, you dressed up for the occasion - wearing the items in your closet that you never got a chance to wear otherwise. The cold crept in as the evening turned darker, and you were starting to regret your pretty but short dress. Lucky for you, you saw your friend walking up the street with long steps - it doesn’t take long for him to get to you.

“Sorry, I’m late- work, you know?” He immediately grabbed your arm and led you through the doors to the bar. “You look great.”

“Thank you?” You’re not sure he heard you as he pulled you through the loud crowd to your usual table in the corner, where someone was already sitting.

Your mouth fell open as you saw who was sitting in your usual seat. Hongjoong was looking right at you, just as shocked as he was the last time you saw him. His hair was still blond, mostly hidden under a beat-up, black cap that looked like he had decorated it himself—no manufactured cap could look so creative and authentically him. He stood up to greet Seonghwa, but his eyes never left yours. You couldn't tell if he was checking you out or questioning his decision to come here. You couldn't help but check him out; he was dressed more casually than you but still somehow outdressed you. The sleeves of his black hoodie were pushed up, revealing tattoos that curled up his forearms, and his jeans were artfully distressed. Seonghwa all but forced you to sit down on the couch seat next to Hongjoong.

"I'll get us drinks!" Seonghwa shouted as he walked back into the crowd.

You hadn't had time to process what was happening, but as Seonghwa left, you were filled with embarrassment and pure rage—the latter almost overpowering the former. Almost.

"Hi," Hongjoong said, his voice a familiar blend of calm and curiosity.

He was sitting close enough to talk normally, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, just like when he had given you that piercing—a constant reminder of your embarrassment. Only a truly cruel creature would curse you with an uncomfortable new hole in your ear that you had to ever so carefully take care of, which, on top of everything, made you think about Hongjoong. However, considering that you had just been freezing, you welcomed his warmth, to the point where you had to keep yourself from leaning closer to him. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him was both comforting and disarming.

"Hi," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Before either of you could speak any further, Seonghwa came back with two bottles of soju and two small glasses. He put them down in front of you, giving you both a look that could only be described as a parent telling their kids to make up after a fight.

"Talk." He pushed the bottles toward the two of you and took a few steps away from the table. "I'm not going to be your messenger."

"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, a hint of panic in your voice.

"Home! To my cat!" He smiled and waved before disappearing into the crowd.

Hongjoong leaned back in his seat with a scoff, making you look over at him. His head was leaning back against the wall, and his eyes were shut tight as if trying to find some inner peace. Suddenly, he sat back up and picked up one of the bottles. As he opened a bottle of soju, he motioned for you to pick up one of the glasses. You did as he asked, and he poured you a shot, the liquid shimmering in the dim light of the room.

“Might as well, right?” he said.

“Right…” You nodded and put the glass to your lips.

“You look pretty.” His words made you choke on the liquid as it came down your throat.

Hongjoong apologized profusely as he patted your back while you coughed. You looked up at him with teary eyes, and the worried look in his eye changed to his usual playful look. The two of you broke out in laughter, the tension finally releasing you from its grasp.

“Off to a good start,” you said and picked up the bottle to offer to pour him a shot.

He accepted the drink, and the two of you took a shot together. Hongjoong’s knee was grazing against yours and, despite the burning sensation, you refused to remove it. As he put down his empty glass, he turned to you.

“I’m sorry about before,” he said, “I was going to say something- you just surprised me.”

“Please, it’s not your fault… I shouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.” You sighed as you poured yourself another drink. “I should know better than to assume your good customer service was flirting.”

“But I was flirting.”

You whipped your head to face him again. He was so casual about it, taking another drink before meeting your gaze. Hongjoong smiled as if he hadn’t just said what he had said, and you felt an overwhelming urge to disappear for at least a few months. The nonchalance in his expression, combined with the casual lift of his glass, made you feel like the ground had shifted beneath you.

“You were flirting?” you asked and looked down at your hands. “So I was overreacting this entire time?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly handle it great,” he countered. “I think you had every right to be upset by my reaction- even if it would’ve been nice if you had stayed to hear my answer first.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down to try to meet your lowered gaze. “We’re here now, right?”

You looked up at him, and he gave you a lopsided grin that you couldn’t help but return. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were just feeling butterflies in your stomach, nevertheless, your skin was tingling all over.

“Even if it was orchestrated by our friend,” you added.

“Yeah… can’t say that I hate him for it, though.” He turned to pour himself another drink, but you could see his shy smile.

“So?” you said, suddenly more confident as you leaned in a little closer to him.

“What?” He looked back at you, his nose inches away from yours.

“Would you go out on a date with me?”

“Sure. Wanna go now?”

That’s how you end up walking beside Hongjoong to a small restaurant that he had looked up just a few minutes earlier. It was close to the bar, but you were already freezing after just a few minutes. You glanced at the jacket hanging over Hongjoong’s arm - it felt a little cliché of him to have a leather jacket, but you suppose it’s part of his charm - and pray that he can sense that you’re freezing.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked.

“Not really,” he replied. “Are you?”

“A little,” you mumbled.

He picked up his jacket from his arm, and got your hopes up, only to put it down on the other arm - the one furthest away from you. Your brows furrowed slightly but before your brain could start spinning ideas, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He had given you a taste of his warmth before, but now it overflowed in you. You kept your eyes on your feet as you kept walking, and Hongjoong bent down to try to find your gaze.

“Warm?” he asked.

“Why’d you…” You couldn’t find any words, too engrossed in his embrace.

“What? Did you want my jacket?” He finally got you to look at him, and flashed you a teasing grin. “Cute.”

He must have been a little tipsy — as evident by the pink glow on his cheeks — because, while he had been confident before, you had never seen him so comfortable being a flirt like he was right now. Hongjoong let go of you and took his jacket to wrap around your shoulders. The jacket was heavy and his scent lingered on it, it was a constant reminder of what his hold would feel like. A while ago, you would’ve never believed that you’d be in this position - now that you were, it was almost overwhelming.

“The restaurant’s over there!” Hongjoong grabbed your hand and led the way, completely unaware of the effect he had on you. “Let’s go!”

“Favorite color?”

“Red and yellow.”

“Really? Not black?”

“I like colors, too.”

You hummed and picked up another fry. The restaurant Hongjoong had found was a cute 50s-themed diner - the kind with big milkshakes and long, plastic menus. It was late, and this had been the only thing open that you didn’t need a reservation for. The milkshake you shared was almost gone, and the fries were half-eaten and getting cold. Both of you stuck out in your colorful booth - you for being so dressed up, and Hongjoong for being dressed in all black. It wasn’t the kind of date you’d brag to your friends about, but you were still having a good time. 

“What is your…” Hongjoong leaned back and paused to think of his next question. “... favorite ice cream flavor?”

The two of you had been going back and forth, asking each other banal questions to get to know each other better - getting through the questions quickly “to make up for lost time,” as Hongjoong had put it.

“Hm… that’s hard,” you muttered. “I do like mint-choco–”

“No…” Hongjoong groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in disappointment. “You’re seriously into chocolate and toothpaste?”

“It doesn’t taste like toothpaste!” You giggled. “You can’t judge me, you like minions.”

“They’re cute!”

“They’re horrible!” you countered. 

“Maybe you just have bad taste.” Hongjoong ate another fry before meeting your eyes again, slightly more serious. “Except for tattoos, I think your design was really sick.”

You leaned against the table, the plastic sticking to your warm skin - just a few seconds ago you had been freezing, but now you could practically be the heat source for your entire apartment complex. 

“It’s all you,” you said earnestly. “You really brought it to life.”

He leaned against the table with his forearms as well, his hand getting closer and closer to yours but his eyes never looked away from your face.

“If you keep complimenting me like that, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to seduce me.” His middle finger reached yours, and you swore you could feel sparks coming from where they met.

Maybe it’s the lighting, but you swear that his brown eyes go on forever. The lighting can’t make everything else disappear, though - that was just him. Hongjoong’s hand inched closer until it covered the back of your hand. The intricate tattoos on his hand were faded, but it made it seem more genuine. This feeling was dangerous, you knew that - but can’t you allow yourself one night of indulgence? As you were about to reply, the waitress came up to your table.

“Is everything alright over here?” she asked with a classic customer service tone, but her tapping foot told a different story from her bright smile.

“Yeah, thank you.” You sat back in your seat, pulling your hand with you and onto your lap - you could no longer look Hongjoong in the eye, not now when the spell was interrupted.

“Alright, just checking in,” the waitress continued. “Just to let you know, we close in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we were about to leave now anyway,” Hongjoong answered and stood up from his seat and put enough cash on the table to cover the cost of the food and a tip. “Can I walk you home, Y/N?”

You looked up at him as he held his hand out to you. With little to no hesitation, you grabbed the leather jacket by your side and took his hand. The two of you said goodbye to the waitress and thanked her, before quickly leaving the establishment.

Hongjoong walked you home, the two of you talking all the way to your apartment. You asked him about his practice, and he asked you about your plans for the future once you had told him you didn’t want to continue being a barista. His jacket was wrapped around your shoulders again, but now his hand was in yours - keeping you more than warm. The streetlights were illuminating your path toward your apartment complex, and you could already see the building in the distance. A sudden urge to slow your steps down struck you then - a need to slow time to make his presence last. Maybe it was his warmth or the way he laughed at every silly joke you said, but you couldn’t help but want to spend more time with him. You’re so lost in your world, that you don’t even realize that Hongjoong has quieted down - or that he’s staring at you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just tired,” you answered, almost too quickly.

“It’s late.” He nodded. “Where’s your place?”

“Just up ahead.” You pointed to your building and let your arm fall to your side again. “You don’t have to walk me all the way if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” He shrugged. “I liked spending time with you tonight.”

While his eyes were fixated on the building not too far from you, you took the time to study his profile. Enamored with the sharp lines of his face — his nose, his jaw, his cheekbones — you found yourself wanting to look at him for just a little bit longer; as if you had wasted so much time by looking away out of shyness. Before you knew it, you arrived at the door to your apartment complex and Hongjoong stopped walking.

“I’ll wait for you to get inside,” he promised as he turned to you with a boyish smile.

You almost wanted to ask him to come up to your place, but decided it would be too forward for a first date. If he had been anyone else you might’ve invited him up, but Hongjoong was the type of person you wanted to savor. 

“Goodnight, then,” you said with a smile and started walking to the door.

“I’m glad that Seonghwa made me come out tonight,” he added quickly and you turned back to him. “Really glad.”

Within a few steps, you were right next to him again. Leaning towards him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek. He took your jaw in your hands, bringing you closer for a real kiss. It was short and chased, but you could feel the effort it took for him to break the kiss as the air around you became thick. 

“I’m glad, too,” you murmured. 

“Goodnight, then,” he mimicked you.

“Goodnight.” You gave him a last smile before turning around and walking into your apartment building.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few days passed before you saw Hongjoong again. During that time, you couldn't stop talking your friends' ears off about him—every conversation seemed to circle back to his smile, his style, and the way he made you feel. Your friends, exasperated yet amused, repeatedly urged you to ask him out on another date already. The only problem was that you still hadn’t gotten his number. Despite this, luck seemed to be on your side. 

The late shift had been brutal. You were exhausted, every muscle in your body ached, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed. The chaos of the day had left the place in disarray, and cleaning up had taken what little energy you had left. As you dragged your feet towards the exit, you heard your name being called out.

You turned, slightly puzzled, to see Hongjoong standing beside a sleek red motorbike. You blinked in surprise, not having expected him to be the type to ride a motorcycle. The sight was jarring at first, but then you realized it actually fit perfectly with his whole aesthetic—edgy, confident, and effortlessly cool. His face lit up with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hadn't seen him in a while, and the sight of him brought a rush of mixed emotions.

"Hey! Need a ride home?" he called out, holding up a spare helmet.

“How did you know my shift ended now?” you questioned with an incredulous smile.

“I asked Seonghwa,” he explained with a shrug. “Thought, since I hadn’t seen you in a while, I’d offer you a lift.”

“You did?” You felt your face grow warm as he walked over to you. “That’s very sweet of you…”

“So can I?” he asked.

You had no clue what he was talking about, as you were too distracted by everything about him. Now that he had come a little closer, you could smell the faint scent of his intoxicating perfume. An urge to wrap your arms around him hit you then, and you had to press your nails into your palms to stop yourself.

“Can you what?” You looked up at him with big eyes.

“Drive you home?” He let out a small laugh that had your heart beating a mile per minute.

You blinked, processing the offer. "Uh, sure," you replied, your voice wavering with nerves and excitement.

Hongjoong's grin widened. "Great! Hop on."

Hongjoong walked back to the bike, got you a helmet, and helped you put it on. With shaky hands, you took the helmet and fastened it on, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Climbing onto the bike behind him, you hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist. The engine roared to life, and you clung to him tightly as the bike sped off into the night.

The ride was a whirlwind of sensations. The cool evening air rushed past, the roar of the engine vibrated through you, and the warmth of Hongjoong's body against yours provided a strange comfort. Fear and exhilaration mingled as you held on, your heart pounding not just from the speed, but from the closeness to him.

When he finally pulled up in front of your place, you reluctantly let go and removed the helmet, your hair slightly tousled. Hongjoong turned to you with that infectious smile. He got off after you and walked you to the door of your apartment complex.

"Safe and sound," he said as you arrived at the door. "Hope the ride wasn’t too scary."

You shook your head, unable to suppress a grin. "No, it was... amazing. Thanks for the ride home, Hongjoong."

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. "Get some rest.”

It was a sure goodbye, but neither of you moved. You kept your eyes on him, and you couldn’t shake the building anticipation in your chest. A realization that you still didn’t have his number hit you—your eyes widened and you let out a soft gasp. Hongjoong raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, as he watched you rummage around your bag. Finally, you pulled out your phone.

“I don’t have your number!” you exclaimed.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Hongjoong chuckled and took your phone in his hand.

The screen showed a new contact, and he typed his information into the small boxes. It only took a few seconds before he was done, and he handed you back the phone. “Tattoo guy,” it said in the box where his name should be.

“Tattoo guy?” You snorted. “Is that how you think I see you?”

“Okay wait, give it back. I’ll fix it.” Hongjoong chuckled and held out his hand.

You put the phone back in his hand, and he quickly typed something new in the name box. When you got your phone back it now said “Cute tattoo guy” instead. You smiled at the phone and looked back up at him.

“I’ll accept it.” You nodded.

“Good,” he said and paused to look at you. “I really want to kiss you again… is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

Hongjoong leaned down, capturing your lips with his for a chaste kiss that left you wanting more. Yet again, he didn’t give you more—but he smiled knowingly when he noticed how you chased after his lips. 

“Call me?" he asked.

"Definitely," you nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at the prospect.

As you watched him ride off into the night, you couldn't help but feel a spark of something new and exciting igniting within you. The exhaustion of the shift faded away, replaced by a thrill.

After getting up to your apartment and getting ready for bed, you called him. You weren’t sure if he had meant “call me as soon as you can” when he had asked you to call him, but you didn’t know when else to call. Your heartbeat quickened with each ring before he eventually answered.

“Hello?”

You heard someone shushing other people in the background—maybe you were hallucinating, or it really sounded like Seonghwa. 

“Hongjoong?” you asked.

“Hi, sweetheart!” You heard him shuffle to get up, the murmurs continued before you heard a door open and shut—the wind was now the only background noise.

“Am I interrupting something?” you mumbled.

“Not at all, I’m just with a few friends,” he explained. “I was going to step out for a smoke anyway, they’ll just have to deal with my absence for a bit.”

You heard the sound of a pack of cigarettes opening and a lighter being lit. With the nerves slowly disappearing, you lay down on your back on your bed.

“You smoke?” you asked.

“Is that a turn-off?” he answered with a question. “I’ll stop if it is.”

“No, it’s fine.” You giggled and turned over on your stomach. “I’ve just never smelt any smoke on you before.”

“I don’t smoke that much. I’m trying to quit,” he admitted. “... just not very hard.”

The sound of him taking another drag from the cigarette echoed through the phone, and you let out another small laugh. You felt like you were in high school again, your feet kicking in the air in a slow rhythm.

“Is there a special reason you called tonight, or do you just miss me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Ah, well… you said to call you and I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to…” you mumbled.

“You’re cute.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you called, actually. I wanted to ask you out on another date.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat as you listened to Hongjoong's voice on the other end of the line. You fumbled around on your bed until you sat up, trying to calm your nerves. Even though he couldn't see you, you quickly fixed your now messed-up hair, wanting to feel more presentable. His laugh echoed through the phone, and you found yourself smiling, but your hands still shook a little. Talking to him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but imagine him right there with you.

“When?” you asked.

“I have a late appointment tomorrow,” he admitted. “But how about the day after that?”

“I could do that–” You hesitated and thought of your work schedule. “I have a shift until the afternoon, but I could meet you after.”

“Sounds great, I’ll pick you up after your shift. Just text me what time it ends and I’ll be there.” The sound of the door opening and the chatter from inside poured through the phone. Someone asked Hongjoong something and he told them to wait a minute. “Sorry, sweetheart, I have to hang up… text me later, okay?”

“I will,” you hummed. “Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said melodically. 

You hung up with a big grin on your face. The only issue now was how you could ever fall asleep tonight.

The day of your date finally arrives. You finish your shift and eagerly text him the time you’ll be off your shift. True to his word, you spot him waiting for you outside your workplace on his sleek black motorbike, a charming smile lighting up his face as you approach.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you warmly, swinging off the bike to offer you a helmet. “Ready for a little adventure?”

You grin, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of riding with him. “Absolutely!”

You hop on behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he starts the engine with a low rumble. The ride to the rooftop bar is exhilarating, the wind tousling your hair and the city passing by in a blur of lights. Hongjoong navigates effortlessly through the traffic, occasionally glancing back to check if you’re comfortable.

Arriving at the rooftop bar, you dismount gracefully, a thrill still lingering from the ride. Hongjoong leads you inside through a discreet entrance, where soft, ambient lighting and the distant hum of conversation immediately set a sophisticated and intimate mood. It’s a casual bar, making your nerves about being underdressed disappear. The bar is adorned with modern decor, plush seating, and a breathtaking view of the city skyline twinkling in the distance.

“This place looks amazing,” you comment, taking in the cozy atmosphere as you settle into your seat at a secluded table.

“I thought you might like it,” Hongjoong replies with a grin.

A waiter walks up and talks to Hongjoong like they’re old friends. He introduces himself to you as Yunho and offers the two of you free first drinks. While Hongjoong tries to decline, Yunho is adamant that he wants to leave a good impression on the person who’s had Hongjoong so distracted lately. With that teasing remark, Hongjoong lets up. Yunho leaves with a wink to you, telling you that he’ll be back with drinks soon.

“I thought he’d be normal about this,” Hongjoond admitted with a sigh. “Sorry…”

“I think he’s nice,” you said and looked over at him with a sly smile. “... I distract you?”

“No– well, yes, but…” You’ve never seen Hongjoong stumble over his words like this before, it’s a sight you could get used to. “I was at Yunho’s place when you called the other day. They haven’t stopped teasing me about it since.”

“I’m sorry,” you said with a not-so-sorry smile but decided to change the subject to be lenient on him. “How do you know each other?”

“He’s in a band I’ve written a few songs for,” he explained. “I’ll take you to one of their gigs sometime if you want.”

“That sounds fun.” You stare at him quizzically. “You just keep revealing new secrets to me, I’m wondering what else you’re hiding.”

“What?”

“It’s just that… there’s so much I don’t know about you, and everything new I learn surprises me.” 

You fidget with one of the napkins on the table. Hongjoong puts one of his hands on top of yours, finding his way to hold your hand. When you looked up at him, he was smiling—a smile that was more like a hug, comforting and soothing.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said. “Soon it won’t be very surprising.”

“I’ll be honest… I don’t know how you could possibly top being a smoking, bike-riding, song-writer.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

Before he can answer, Yunho comes back with the drinks. As you sipped your cocktails, conversation flowed effortlessly between you. You talked about music, discovering Hongjoong’s unique taste, and deep knowledge of various genres. The live band started playing soft, soulful tunes, their melodies blending seamlessly with the murmurs of other patrons.

At one point, Hongjoong leans closer, his voice softening. “I’m really glad we could do this,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Thank you,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a smile.

The night continued with laughter and meaningful conversation. Hongjoong suggested taking a walk along the rooftop’s edge, where you can feel the cool night breeze and admire the city lights below. You strolled hand in hand, the soft glow of the moon overhead adding to the enchanting atmosphere.

As the evening winds down, Hongjoong leads you back to his bike, helmet in hand. He helped you put it on with a gentle touch, the closeness making your heart race with anticipation. The ride home was quick, and Hongjoong drove carefully—although he only had one drink many hours ago, he told you that he didn’t want to risk it.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, overwhelmed with gratitude for the wonderful evening.

“It was my pleasure,” Hongjoong replied warmly, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Can we do this again soon?”

You nodded eagerly, already looking forward to the next adventure with him.

“I’ll text you,” he promised, leaning in to give you a tender kiss on the cheek before you parted ways.

You watched him ride off into the night again, a contented smile on your face. This night, filled with exhilarating moments, heartfelt conversations, and a touch of romance, has left you certain of one thing—Hongjoong is someone special.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The following week, you decided to surprise Hongjoong with lunch. He had mentioned offhandedly that he often didn’t have time to grab something to eat between appointments, and you figured a little gesture of kindness would brighten his day—and give you a reason to see him again. You had the morning shift, and at the end of it, you made the lunch of any leftovers that your boss wouldn’t notice if it went missing. As soon as the clock struck twelve, and your shift was over, you headed out.

As you approached the studio, you saw Hongjoong through the window, chatting with a customer. Your heart sank when you realized it was the same person he had been talking to the last time you were here. She was as gorgeous and intimidating as the first time you had seen her. They were laughing, and the way she leaned in closely sent a pang of jealousy through you.

You hesitated at the door, debating whether to turn around and leave. Just as you were about to retreat, Hongjoong glanced up and his eyes met yours. His face lit up with that familiar, infectious smile, and he immediately bounced over to the door, leaving the customer mid-sentence.

"Y/N! What brings you here?" he asked, genuinely pleased to see you.

You held up the lunch bag, trying to keep your tone casual. "I brought you lunch. You mentioned you didn’t have much time to get food, so I thought I’d help out."

Hongjoong's eyes sparkled with delight. "That’s so sweet of you."

He took the bag from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. The customer, now standing awkwardly by the counter, cleared her throat and gave a half-hearted smile before leaving the studio with a curt goodbye.

Hongjoong didn’t seem to notice the customer's departure or the slightly annoyed look on her face. Instead, he turned his full attention to you, completely oblivious to the fact that she had been flirting with him just moments before. Your eyes met his again after watching her leave.

"Was that jealousy I saw on your face just now?" he teased, raising an eyebrow playfully. "You looked like you were ready to storm out."

You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly shook your head. "No, I just... didn’t want to interrupt."

Hongjoong chuckled warmly, his laughter putting you at ease. "Well, I’m glad you did. This looks delicious." He peeked into the bag and smiled appreciatively. "Seriously, thank you."

You shrugged modestly, attempting to hide your nervousness. "It’s nothing. Just thought you could use a good meal."

His expression softened as he stepped closer. "It means a lot. Really. I’ll make sure to savor every bite."

His sincerity touched you deeply, and a warm feeling spread through your chest. "I’m glad," you managed to say, feeling a surge of happiness at his genuine appreciation.

Hongjoong leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. "You always seem to know how to make my day better," he confessed, his gaze earnest.

A flutter of butterflies danced in your stomach at his words. "I’m just happy to help," you replied softly, meeting his eyes with a smile.

He nodded, his smile widening. "Well, I’m grateful for it. And I owe you one."

Before you could respond, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through you, leaving you both comforted and excited for what might come next.

"I'd love for you to stay," Hongjoong said earnestly, his eyes reflecting a mix of sincerity and hope.

You hesitated, feeling a flutter of nerves despite the warmth his presence brought. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude..."

Hongjoong shook his head, his smile reassuring. "You wouldn't be intruding at all. I enjoy your company, and I'd love to share this lunch with you."

His sincerity melted away your reservations. "Okay then," you replied softly, smiling back at him.

He led you to a cozy corner of his office where he had already set out the lunch you had brought. You settled into chairs nearby, the familiar buzz of the studio outside muffled by the closed door.

As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily between you. You talked about his latest projects, your shared love for certain bands, and plans for the upcoming weekend. Hongjoong's passion for music shone through as he animatedly described his friend’s upcoming gig.

"You should come," he suggested, his eyes lighting up. "It’s going to be a great show, and I’d love for you to be there."

You considered it for a moment, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of experiencing another part of Hongjoong’s world. "I'd love to come," you replied warmly. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

His smile widened, a mixture of happiness and anticipation. "Great! I’ll send you the details later. My friends will love you, I’m sure."

As lunch drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave. The afternoon had been unexpectedly intimate and comforting, deepening the bond between you and Hongjoong. You were beginning to see glimpses of how well you fit together, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

"I should probably get going," you said, glancing at the time.

Hongjoong nodded, but his eyes held a hint of reluctance. "I understand. Thanks for staying. I always enjoy your company."

You smiled warmly. "Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time."

Walking out of the tattoo shop, you couldn’t help but replay the moments spent with Hongjoong in your mind. Each interaction seemed to reinforce the connection between you, leaving you eager for more shared experiences and conversations. As promised, Hongjoong texted you later with the details of his friend's gig. You replied with enthusiasm, already looking forward to the weekend and the chance to see him again. 

Your heart raced with excitement and a touch of nervousness as you meticulously prepared for your next date with Hongjoong. After several wardrobe changes and a quick touch-up of makeup, you settled on your favorite outfit: a soft, flowy blouse paired with well-fitted jeans. The blouse, a delicate shade of lavender, complemented your complexion, while the jeans, perfectly worn-in, exuded a laid-back vibe. You added a few subtle accessories—a dainty necklace that caught the light just so, and a pair of earrings that added a touch of sparkle.

The anticipation bubbled within you as you imagined the evening ahead. It wasn't just about the outing itself but the chance to see Hongjoong in his element, surrounded by the music and energy that fueled his passion. You wondered what surprises the night might hold, eager to share more moments together and deepen the connection that had been growing steadily between you.

With a final check of your phone for any messages from Hongjoong, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Each step carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation, knowing that tonight would be another chapter in your unfolding story with Hongjoong—a story that seemed to promise more laughter, heartfelt conversations, and perhaps even a hint of romance.

When you arrived at the venue, the place was already buzzing with energy. The dim, moody lighting and the low hum of the crowd set the perfect atmosphere for a night of live music. Hongjoong had invited you to his friend's gig, and as you stepped inside, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between your outfit and the attire of the other attendees. The room was filled with people dressed in sleek black attire—leather jackets, ripped jeans, and boots. Hongjoong fit right in.

For a moment, self-consciousness crept in as you wondered if you had misjudged the dress code. However, Hongjoong's wide smile and warm hug dispelled any lingering doubts.

"I’m so glad you came," he said, taking your hand. 

You returned his hug, feeling reassured by his warmth. "Wouldn't miss it," you replied with a smile, trying to shake off your initial uncertainty about your outfit choice.

Hongjoong glanced at your outfit, a playful glint in his eyes. "You look amazing," he said sincerely, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I love the pop of color—it stands out in the best way."

His compliment eased your nerves, and you found yourself relaxing in the vibrant atmosphere of the venue. As Hongjoong's friend took the stage, you settled in beside him, enjoying the electrifying energy of the crowd and the raw passion in the music.

As the concert started, the venue's atmosphere crackled with energy. Jongho, the charismatic singer; Mingi and San, the energetic guitarists; Yunho, the cool and composed bassist; and Yeosang, the talented drummer took their positions on stage. Wooyoung, who, despite not seemingly being a part of the band, was just backstage as Hongjoong pointed out to you. If only Seonghwa were here, the entire group would be together—and you were starting to notice why they were so close.

They launched into their first song, filling the air with pulsating rhythms and electrifying melodies. Not only was their music and stage presence impressive, their chemistry with each other was undeniable. The crowd around you danced and cheered, fully immersed in the music and the infectious excitement of the performance.

You stood beside Hongjoong, initially captivated by his enthusiasm and the way he effortlessly moved to the beat. However, as the concert progressed and the crowd grew more animated, you found yourself momentarily separated from him in the sea of bodies. Panic gripped your chest as you scanned the area, searching for his familiar figure amidst the shifting shadows and flashes of colored lights.

The dim lighting and the swirling mass of people seemed to conspire against you, making it difficult to pinpoint his location. Voices merged into a distant roar, blending with the thumping bass and reverberating guitar riffs. You pushed through the crowd, calling out his name in a mix of urgency and concern, your heart pounding in your ears.

Just as your anxiety peaked, a flash of bleach-blonde hair caught your eye in the crowd ahead. Relief flooded through you like a tidal wave as you hurried towards him. Hongjoong turned at the sound of your voice, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw you approaching.

"Hey! There you are," he exclaimed over the music, reaching out to take you by your waist and pull you in closer.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension drain from your body. "I was looking everywhere for you," you admitted, relieved beyond words to have found him safe and sound.

He chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement and affection. "Sorry about that. Got caught up in the music." He leaned in and spoke softly in your ear.

You couldn't help but smile back, the rush of emotions settling into a warm glow of contentment. "It's okay," you replied. "I'm just glad I found you."

He took your hand again, and this time, he didn’t let go. You moved through the crowd together, finding a spot near the stage where you had a great view of the performance. The band was fantastic, and you quickly realized why Hongjoong was so proud of his friends. Together, you leaned into each other, enjoying the rest of the concert side by side. The music continued to pulse through the air, weaving a tapestry of melodies that seemed to resonate with the newfound closeness between you.

After the set, he led you backstage—an area littered with dirty towels, instruments, gear, and a few empty beer bottles—a grin spreading across his face as he introduced you to everyone. "Guys, this is the person I’ve been telling you about."

They greeted you warmly, but it wasn’t long before the teasing began. Jongho was the first to speak up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, you’re the one who’s got Hongjoong all smitten?"

Mingi chuckled, nudging San. "Yeah, you don’t look like his usual type at all."

San nodded a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like our boy Hongjoong has developed a bit of a corruption kink, huh?"

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you glanced at Hongjoong, who was trying to suppress a laugh. "Guys, come on," he said, shaking his head. "Don’t scare them off."

Yeosang joined in, trying to make up for the others’ drunken comments. "We’re just surprised. You look so sweet and innocent compared to his usual taste."

You felt a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a strange sort of pride. Despite the teasing, it was clear they cared about Hongjoong and were curious about you. Hongjoong wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Don’t mind them," he whispered in your ear. "They can be jerks when they’re drunk."

You smiled up at him, feeling more at ease. "It’s okay. I can handle it."

Wooyoung clapped his hands together, grinning. "Alright, enough teasing. Let’s get to the after-party!"

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, music, and good company. Hongjoong stayed by your side, making sure you felt included and comfortable. As the night drew to a close, you realized how much you enjoyed being a part of his world and seeing him in his element.

When it was time to leave, Hongjoong walked you to the front door, his arm wrapped protectively around you. "Thanks for coming tonight," he said softly.

You smiled, leaning into him. "I had a great time. I like your friends."

He chuckled. "Yeah, they’re a handful, but they’re the best." You stood there for a moment, the night air cool and crisp around you. You wanted to say something else, to question what his friends had said earlier, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Hongjoong drove you home, the hum of the engine and the cool night air doing little to ease the swirling thoughts in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Hongjoong’s friends had said. The teasing comments replayed in your head, making you wonder if you really were out of place in his life.

When he pulled up in front of your apartment, you hesitated before speaking. "Hongjoong, would you mind coming inside for a bit?"

He looked at you, concern etched on his face. "Of course. Let’s go."

He parked his motorbike and followed you inside the apartment complex for the first time. You led him up to your apartment, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. As you opened the door and stepped inside, you suddenly felt self-conscious about the cute decor—soft pastel colors, plush cushions, and delicate trinkets that filled the space. It was a stark contrast to the edgy vibe Hongjoong and his friends exuded—the very reason you were feeling so self-conscious.

He took in the surroundings with a smile. "Your place is really nice. It suits you."

You blushed, fidgeting slightly. "Thanks. I just... I know it’s not exactly your style."

Hongjoong stepped closer, his expression was serious yet gentle. "This isn’t about what the guys said, right? I think it’s great. It’s you."

You looked down, feeling a little better but still needing answers. "Well... they made me feel… Am I not your type?"

He sighed, running a hand through his bleached hair. "They were just messing around. I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable– it’s just that, they know me. They know how I was before you. In the past… I wasn’t always the nicest guy when it came to relationships."

You looked at him, curiosity and concern mixing in your gaze. "What do you mean?"

Hongjoong took a deep breath, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. "I dated a lot, but I never really cared about anyone, I guess? It was all just fun and games to me.” He took a deep breath and looked at you with an overwhelming sense of worry. “But with you, it’s different. You’re different. I don’t want to mess this up."

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to ask. "Is that why you haven’t... you know... tried anything with me yet?"

He opened and closed his mouth again, unprepared for the question. "I just don’t want to scare you off. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with."

“Why would you scare me off?” you asked.

Hongjoong’s face turned red, and he looked down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly. His usual confident demeanor seemed to vanish, replaced by a shy vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. The blush creeping up his neck and the way he bit his lower lip were both endearing and unexpected, revealing a side of him you hadn't seen before. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken emotions.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "I'm a bit more... adventurous in bed than most… God, I can’t even explain it." He groaned and shut his eyes tight.

You blinked, processing his words. The vulnerability in his eyes confessed secrets to you that you hadn’t seen before, a part of him he had kept hidden. "You mean, like... more adventurous how?"

He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I like trying new things, pushing boundaries… I have certain… kinks. I understand if that’s not what you want– I think that’s what the boys were getting at, that you just don’t… you don’t look like the type to enjoy that, which is completely fine and–"

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, and Hongjoong’s rambling quieted down. "I appreciate you being honest with me. I want to understand you better, and… I’m willing to try some things."

His eyes softened. "Are you sure? You’re not just saying that, right? Because if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine– the last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable."

You nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I trust you… just go slow? Please?"

Hongjoong pulled you into a gentle hug, holding you close. "We’ll take it slow, I promise."

As you stood there in his arms, the worries and doubts from earlier began to fade away. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. From the way he was acting now, you couldn’t picture him being as rough as he seemed to be alluding to. Excitement bubbled up in your stomach, surprising yourself.

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Hongjoong cupped your face gently with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of his touch made your heart race.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. "Yes."

He leaned in slowly, giving you a chance to back out if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your lips finally touching his. The kiss started out tender and tentative as if he was afraid of breaking the moment. His lips were soft and warm, and you melted into him, feeling the world around you disappear.

As the kiss deepened, his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own. The passion between you grew, the kiss becoming more urgent and fervent. His other hand slid down to your waist, holding you tightly against him.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the rest of the world fading away. All that mattered was the connection you felt with him, the electricity coursing through your veins. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

Hongjoong's eyes were dark with desire, his voice a low murmur. "Should we... go to your bedroom?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "Please."

You took his hand, leading him down the hallway to your bedroom. Your heart was racing when you finally reached the door and opened it. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, casting a gentle glow over the bed.

Hongjoong turned to face you, his expression tender yet intense. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

You smiled, placing your hands over his. "I'm sure."

He kissed you again, this time slower and more deliberate, savoring every moment. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you backed toward the bed. When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you sat down, bringing him with you—his knees on the bed.

Hongjoong's hands roamed over your body over the thin material of your blouse, exploring with a reverent touch. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers through you. He kissed along your jawline, down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

You leaned back onto the bed, pulling him down with you. The softness of the sheets contrasted with the firmness of his body above you. Hongjoong reached his hand to the buttons of your blouse, which he hesitantly unbuttoned—his lips staying on yours. You helped him take off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear. He pulled away from you and paused for a moment, looking down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. The soft lace of your bra and panties practically called out to him, and he delicately traced it with his fingertips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

You felt too naked staring at his clothed body. Once he noticed your nervous stare, he pulled off his shirt and shuffled out of his pants. You could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, and you found yourself clenching around nothing at the sight. He smiled, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

“Is it okay if I take this off?” he murmured against your lips, breathless, as he played with the hem of your bra. As soon as you nodded, he unclasped it and let it fall off your shoulders. His lips immediately met your delicate skin, pressing soft kisses before marking your most sensitive areas.

“Hongjoong–” Your breath hitched in your throat as his tongue swirled around your nipple.  

He paused, immediately looking at your face to make sure you were okay. When he saw your swollen lips and big eyes he smiled—unlike the sweet smile you’d seen so many times before, this time he almost looked wicked. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Is it okay if I tie your hands up, baby?” he asked gently.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Tie my hands up?” 

“Yes.” He leaned back up and pressed a kiss to your jawline. “Against the headboard. I want to have you writhing underneath me.”

You nodded and whispered a yes when you saw Hongjoong’s stern gaze. While he picked his belt up from the floor, you moved over to the headboard. Without him saying a word, you put your hands up, putting your wrists near one of the railings of the headboard. You knew you had done the right thing when Hongjoong looked at you with a proud smile, and you pressed your legs together at the feeling it gave you.

“You’re so obedient,” he murmured as he went to tie your hands to the headboard. “It’s cute.”

Hongjoong carefully made handcuffs out of his belt and tied your wrists to the headboard. You couldn’t move your arms, but the belt was tied loosely enough for it to still be somewhat comfortable. He put two fingers between your wrist and the leather to make sure it wasn’t too tight. You could probably get yourself out, but you didn’t want to. Hongjoong stepped back to look at you, the wicked smile back on his lips. He got between your legs without another word, pressing his thumb against your clit over the soft material of your panties. You tried to close your legs, but he held them apart.

“Are you doing okay so far, baby?” he asked as he caressed your hips and looked at you with his familiar gentle eyes. You nodded. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“I’m okay,” you murmured.

“Good.” He looked back down at your cunt, noticing the wet patch growing on your underwear. “I’ll keep your hands tied until I’ve made you cum twice… don’t cum without my permission.”

It was clear that he had thought about this before, and the thought of him lying awake at night picturing you in such a lewd position made you throb with need. You’d never noticed this side of you—a depraved part that you had apparently been keeping under lock and key. Hongjoong just had the talent of luring it out of you. When he looked back up at you again, his eyes were ever so slightly softer.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop immediately. No matter what. Okay, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” The title just came out of your mouth, you didn’t even process it.

Hongjoong didn’t say anything about it, but you could see in his eyes that he liked it—you did well. He laid down between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep them open. Before you could say another word, he pressed his tongue flat over your clothed pussy. You gasped at the sudden warmth, your arms straining against the restraints. Hongjoong groaned at the taste, and you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he pressed his nose against your core. Your heart was beating a mile a minute; you’d never seen someone react to you this way. With soft motions—too soft—Hongjoong began rubbing your clit over your panties. It was too slow and you could barely feel anything, your hips desperately bucking up to get more friction. From the look on Hongjoong’s face, this was apparently the point. He wanted to break you, just a little before you got what you wanted. He studied your expression, the way your eyes shut tight and eyebrows furrowed whenever he pushed down a little harder. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please what?”

“Take them off,” you begged, “I want to feel you.”

It was all it took for him to rid you of your panties, and you dutifully lifted up your hips to help him. Only a few seconds later, his tongue was on your cunt again—lavishing in how wet you had gotten from just a bit of teasing. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up. Your moans grew louder, your legs started shaking, and you pulled more and more on your restraints. Hongjoong kept studying you, keeping his eyes open and focused while eating you out. He stopped before you reached the edge.

“Why?” you whined.

“I told you not to cum without my permission,” he stated, matter-of-fact.

You whined and wiggled your hips. Hongjoong pushed them down with one of his hands, the other one caressing your side soothingly. “As long as you do as I say, you’ll feel good, baby.”

You nodded pathetically— whimpering out another “yes, sir,” which had the same effect on him as it did before. It was all he needed to dive back into your core. His tongue expertly lapped at your pussy, his eyes now closed in pleasure. As his tongue started prodding at your hole, his tongue bumping against your clit, you started grinding on his face. It wasn’t like you meant to do it, it just felt too good. With a stern arm, Hongjoong held you down. You wanted to do something—anything—your orgasm was building up in your stomach once again and you needed to move. You wanted to push your legs together at the overwhelming feeling, pull his head closer to you by his hair, and keep grinding against him all at once. Hongjoong was restricting all of your movements.

“Please, let me cum!” you all but shouted.

“Do it.” Hongjoong’s demand was simple. A low growl that you barely heard over the sound of your own wet pussy, but it had you unraveling there and then.

The sound of you pulling on your restraints was drowned out by your own moans as the coil in your stomach snapped. Hongjoong moaned against your core, the vibrations making your legs shake. You heard yourself murmur a “thank you, sir,” as Hongjoong helped you come down from your high by letting you rub against his palm.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised. “Just one more before I free your hands, alright?”

You hummed. Hongjoong slapped the inside of your thigh, the stinging sensation made you gasp. You looked at him with wide eyes, only to be met with a grin.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to use your words again, should I, baby?”

You shook your head, and then quickly added, “No, sir.” Hongjoong rubbed a soothing hand over the area where he had slapped you, and you melted into the touch. The feeling quickly disappeared, however, as his fingers reached for your core again. Your head became clouded as his fingers prodded at your entrance. Just one more, you repeated in your head. You wondered if he’d let you have his cock tonight—almost worried about it—and you let out a low whine. Hongjoong looked at you with concern.

“Are you going to… you know…” You looked at his arm, at the tattoos sneaking down to his hand which was still toying with your core. “Fuck me?”

Hongjoong’s hand faltered at your vulgar words, a smile broke out on his face. “Thought I’d save it for when you can touch me.”

There will be more? Your head was spinning at the thought. You were used to cumming once on your vibrator before going to sleep, too tired to go on by yourself. Cumming three times in a row wasn’t something you’d done in a while—if ever. If you had, you couldn’t remember.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he reminded you as his middle finger entered you.

After pumping the finger inside you for a while, he added another. He put his palm against your clit and let you grind against it while he kept thrusting his fingers into you—curling them against your g-spot, once he’d found it. While you were busy shutting your eyes tight at the stimulation, Hongjoong leaned up and captured one of your nipples in his mouth again. You gasped at the feeling—it was almost overwhelming. All of these sensations, and the promise of getting to have his cock inside you, were making you get closer and closer to the edge.

“Are you going to cum again, baby?” he coos at you, whispering in your ear, “I can feel you clenching around me.”

You let out a gasp that turned into a moan, as he started sucking on the sensitive spot right by your jaw. After managing to whimper out a confirmation, he ordered you to cum again. It was all you needed to release all over his hand. Your moans were drowned out by his lips on your again. His fingers slowed down, but he kept his hands between your legs until your movements stopped. Without another word, Hongjoong licked his fingers clean and helped you out of your restraints. As soon as you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head lay on his chest, and Hongjoong welcomed you into his embrace.

“Are you okay to keep going, baby?” he asked softly.

You were practically buzzing with anticipation. “Please.”

When Hongjoong asked if you had a condom, your heart dropped to your stomach. You hadn’t been sleeping with anyone for a while, of course, you didn’t have condoms anywhere.

“... no,” you muttered. “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”

“Checked it a few months ago. I’m clean,” he murmured. 

You looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Then, please, just fuck me?”

How could he say no to you? He smiled, pressing an unfittingly chaste kiss on your lips. After he moved to sit by your legs again, he quickly manhandled you onto your hands and knees. Your fuzzy brain didn’t even have time to process what he was doing before it was done.

“But I can’t touch you like this!” you whined.

“Mm… I lied.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Cum one more time and I’ll let you touch me. Just one more.”

You wanted to whine and complain, but the proud look on his face appeared in your mind. You wanted to please him, you couldn’t deny that. So, you shut your mouth and arch your back—pressing your ass against him. You can feel that he’s pulled off his underwear now, and you ached to see him. All of him. Your mouth all but watered at the thought.

“Please, fuck me,” you said again. “Please, sir.”

He groaned at the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing up against him, and quickly guided his cock to your entrance. He goes slowly at first, letting you get used to his size. However, you grow impatient and start moving yourself further down his cock. Hongjoong gripped your hips—his warm hands feel like they belong there—and stopped you from moving.

“I’m in charge here, sweetheart,” he reminded you. “Want me to go faster? Beg.”

“Please fuck me faster, sir, I want you to fill me up.” The words come pouring out of you without stop, you become a blubbering mess as he starts shallowly fucking into you at a faster pace. “Yes! Please, more! I need more!”

You can’t think of anything except how good he’s filling you up. You’re not sure you’ve ever lost yourself in someone this way—no one has ever taken control over you like this, fucked you like this, molded you to their body like this. He’s ruined everyone else for you, you’re sure of it. His hips slam against yours, filling you up completely. You open your mouth to thank him, but only a noise of surprise and pleasure comes out. Hongjoong’s hand had come down on your ass, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin.

“Again,” you whimper.

His hand comes down on you again, and you moan. You never knew you were into pain like this—but whatever he was doing, he was not allowed to stop. Hongjoong’s hips started moving against yours again, and his hand came down on you with every other thrust. You were a drooling mess. The makeup you had put on was running down your cheeks as you babbled out an endless sentence of thank you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled. “So good, taking whatever I give you—aren’t you such a good obedient slut?”

“Yes, sir! I’m your obedient slut!” you moaned out, your hands gripping the sheets. “Please, let me cum! Please, please, please…”

“Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he demanded.

With a choked moan, the coil in your stomach exploded into a fiery pit—burning your skin until it made you see stars. Hongjoong pulled out and came on your back, groaning as he did. You collapsed on the bed, and you felt the bed tip to one side. He had gotten some tissues from the box on your nightstand and wiped off the cum from your back. You turned around to see him throwing the tissue to the side, holding your arms out to him. His chest pressed against yours as he embraced you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The dominant Hongjoong was gone, you could tell from his soft kiss. There was still a craving lingering in you. Although you were tired, you started grinding against his still-hard cock. He put his hand on your hip, right by your tattoo.

“Baby, you’re too tired,” he murmured.

“You said I could touch you if I came again,” you whined.

Your brain was foggy, all you needed and wanted was for him to touch you—to fuck you slowly into your mattress. He smiled at your pout, before leaning in to kiss it away. You smiled back at him, and Hongjoong strangled a laugh at the sight of you.

“Just one more?” you asked.

He groaned as you reached down to guide his cock to your entrance again. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He started to slowly thrust into you again. Hissing at how sensitive you both were, you paused all movement as he had bottomed out in you. Hongjoong’s arms were on either side of your head, holding himself up to look at you. You reached out your finger and carefully traced the tattoos on his chest.

“You’re pretty,” you murmured.

It was dark in your room, but you swore you could see his face get red. Hongjoong didn’t respond, he only started moving slowly against you again. You let out small grunts and whimpers, your hands finding their place on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

“You feel so good…” Hongjoong’s head fell to the crook of your neck, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hold him there.

One of your hands found its way to his short hair, tangling your fingers into the mess. Your legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to keep him close. His body was warm, and you wanted to steal that warmth to keep it safe.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “So good to me…”

“Hongjoong.” You made him look at you again, his hips never stopped moving. His forehead leaned against yours as he stared deep into your eyes. “Cum inside me.”

He didn’t respond, but you knew he’d keep you to your word from the way that he kissed you. It was as if he was pouring his adoration into every move of his lips. One of his hands moved down to rub your clit, making your legs shake around him. With a grunt, he came inside you and you came soon after him. The two of you stayed in that position, chests heaving.

“You’re amazing,” you breathed out.

“I could say the same about you.” He grinned before pressing a kiss to your cheek and getting up. “I’ll get you cleaned up, stay here.”

He walked over to the door but hesitated as he realized that he didn’t know the layout of your apartment. “The bathroom’s to your left when you walk out of that door.” You giggled. 

He walked out with a sheepish smile, his ears red, and came back only a few seconds later with a warm, wet washcloth. Hongjoong wiped you off carefully as if he was wiping off porcelain. You reached your hand up to his head, trying to tame his wild hair by running your fingers through it.

“Does it look weird?” he asked without looking up at you, his focus was on your tattoo—he traced the lines of the lotus flower with his fingers.

“It’s just messy…” you hummed. “... maybe a little weird.” He looked away from your tattoo, and the two of you laughed as your eyes met. 

After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom, Hongjoong got you under the covers in your bed before he got in next to you. Lying together, you nestled against Hongjoong’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothed any lingering nerves, its gentle thump a comforting backdrop to the stillness of the night. He stroked your hair tenderly, his fingers moving in a slow, relaxing pattern that made your eyelids grow heavy with contentment.

“This feels nice,” you murmured, your voice thick with drowsiness.

He tightened his embrace slightly, resting his chin on top of your head. “It really does… I’m glad you invited me up.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the soft, dim light from the street lights and passing cars filtering through the curtains. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart swell. “Me too.”

He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Was it okay? You’re not overwhelmed or anything?”

“I’m fine, Hongjoong,” you murmured.

“I just want to make sure—”

“I know.” You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. “It’s sweet… but I’m okay… I liked it, actually.”

“Good.” He couldn’t hide his boyish grin. “Are you sure you haven’t done it before? You were too good for—”

You slapped his chest lightly, biting back your smile at his teasing. “Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He snickered, his laughter a low, pleasant rumble against your ear. “Seriously though, you were amazing.”

“So were you.” You sighed happily, snuggling closer. The warmth of his body and the security of his arms around you made you feel incredibly safe. As you lay there, you felt a profound sense of peace, the worries of the world melting away. Hongjoon’s hand found the lotus flower design on your hip again. Moving his body ever so slightly, he looked at the inked skin under the sheets, carefully studying his work. His fingers continued to trace the intricate design of your tattoo, the gentle touch sending shivers down your spine.

“It healed well,” he commented.

“It did.” You hummed, cupping his face in your hand to make him meet your eyes. His eyebrows raised and he looked at you with big eyes, silently asking if you were okay. You nodded and he smiled, leaning up to press a kiss on your swollen lips.

“I thought the design was pretty on its own.” He pressed a kiss on your cheek. “But it’s even prettier on you.”

“Smooth-talker.” You scoffed but smiled lovingly anyway.

He leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m just telling the truth,” he said with a playful smile. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you again while you rolled your eyes.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, baby,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.

The two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. His hand stayed on your hip.

You woke to the gentle caress of morning light streaming through your curtains. The first thing you noticed was Hongjoong lying beside you, his presence as comforting as the warmth of the sun on your skin. His hair, a tousled mess of soft blond strands, framed his peaceful face, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He looked so serene, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, completely at ease in his slumber.

As you lay there, your heart swelled with a sense of contentment, the kind that only comes from waking up next to someone you love. Carefully, you reached out, your fingers gently threading through his bleached hair, feeling its softness against your skin. He stirred slightly at your touch, his nose twitching in response, and a soft hum escaped his lips. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer as if even in his sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

You watched him for a moment longer, memorizing the way the morning light kissed his features, casting delicate shadows on his skin. The peaceful expression on his face, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, the gentle curve of his lips—it all filled you with a warmth that radiated from deep within, spreading through every part of you.

Careful not to wake him, you slipped out of his embrace and out of bed. After putting on clothes, you padded to the kitchen to start breakfast. The sounds and smells of cooking soon filled the apartment, and just as you were finishing up, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

"Good morning," Hongjoong mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

You turned your head to look at him, his hair even more disheveled now. "Good morning. I hope you like your eggs scrambled."

He grinned, planting a kiss on your cheek. "I love them. Especially if you're the one making them."

The two of you moved around the kitchen in a cozy, intimate dance, making breakfast together. There was a comforting rhythm to it, an easy familiarity that made you feel like you’d been doing this for years. You chatted about small things, laughed at silly jokes, and stole kisses in between setting the table and making coffee.

Once everything was ready, you sat down to eat. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you felt a deep sense of contentment. After breakfast, Hongjoong insisted on helping you clean up, and soon it was time to get ready for work. As you gathered your things, he offered to drop you off, and you happily agreed.

When you arrived at the café, you saw Seonghwa already seated at a table near the window. He ate breakfast at the café from time to time, mostly when he missed you or when he didn’t have the energy to make breakfast at home. He glanced up and saw you through the big windows as you walked up to the café, a curious look in his eyes. 

Hongjoong walked you to the door, his hand lingering on the small of your back. "Have a good day at work," he said softly, leaning in for a quick kiss.

You blushed, aware of the eyes on you. "You too. Thanks for breakfast and everything."

As you stepped inside, Seonghwa immediately waved you over. "Hey, you look... different today. Did something happen?"

You shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral but unable to hide the small smile playing on your lips. "Just had a good morning, that’s all."

Your coworker joined in, smirking. "Uh-huh, sure. And was that Hongjoong who just dropped you off?"

You felt your cheeks heat up again. "Maybe..."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "What did he do to make you glow like that this early in the morning, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "... he may have spent the night after we saw the gig that his friends were playing. But I’m not saying anything else. You would’ve known if you had been there!"

“I was busy with work,” he whined. “You have to tell me!”

“I don’t remember putting that in our contract,” you joked. “Now, leave me alone! I have a shift to get to!”

With that, you slipped behind the counter, ready to start your shift. Despite the teasing and the curious glances, you couldn’t help but feel light and happy. The memory of the morning with Hongjoong stayed with you, a warm, comforting presence that made the day feel just a little bit brighter.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Over the next few weeks, you saw Hongjoong regularly. Your connection deepened with each meeting, but despite the growing intimacy between you, he never initiated anything sexual. It was both endearing and frustrating. You appreciated his respect for your boundaries, but it also made you shy and hesitant to make the first move.

One afternoon, while you were tidying up at the café, your phone buzzed with a message from Hongjoong.

Hey, can you stop by the shop after work? I have something I want to show you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message. You quickly typed back, Sure! I get off at 5. See you then!

The rest of your shift passed in a blur of anticipation. As soon as the clock struck five, you grabbed your things and headed to his studio. The familiar walk seemed shorter than usual, your excitement propelling you forward.

When you arrived, the shop was quiet, a stark contrast to its usual buzz of activity. You stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of a tattoo machine and the scent of ink and antiseptic. Hongjoong looked out from his tattoo room and smiled, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

"Hey," he greeted, finishing up the last touches on his current project. "Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you."

You nodded, taking a seat and watching him work. His focus and skill never ceased to amaze you. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his hands steady and precise.

After a few minutes, he finished and cleaned up, then came over to you. "Thanks for waiting. I’m really glad you could come by."

"No problem," you replied, your curiosity piqued. "So, what did you want to show me?"

Hongjoong grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Follow me."

He led you to a back room you hadn’t seen before. Inside was a collection of his artwork, framed and displayed on the walls. Sketches, paintings, and tattoo designs filled the space, each piece a testament to his talent and creativity.

"Wow, Hongjoong," you breathed, taking it all in. "This is incredible. I knew you worked a lot but, this…"

He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, it’s kind of my personal gallery. I wanted to share it with you."

You turned to him, touched by the gesture. "Your work is amazing."

He stepped closer, his expression softening. "I wanted you to see this because... well, you’re important to me. And I want you to know me better, all sides of me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out, taking his hand. "Thank you for showing me this."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked onto yours. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken feelings and mutual understanding. You felt the urge to close the distance between you, but still, the hesitation lingered.

Sensing your uncertainty, Hongjoong smiled and pulled you into a warm embrace. You lost yourself in the domesticity of the moment, feeling content in his arms. "How was your day?" he murmured.

"Good," you replied, smiling up at him. "How about you?"

"Busy, but good," he said, pulling away from him. "Listen, I was wondering if you’re free for dinner tonight. I’d like to cook for you, as a thank you for the breakfast from a few weeks ago."

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of Hongjoong cooking for you in an intimate setting set loose the butterflies in your stomach. "I’d love that."

He grinned. "Great! Let me just lock up, and we’ll head over to my place."

As he closed up the shop, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. You assumed that inviting you over for dinner meant he might finally make a move, and the thought both thrilled and made you slightly nervous.

The ride to his apartment was a little longer than it had been to your place, and you started to understand why he had bought a motorbike instead of a car. While the cars were stuck slowly rolling forward during rush hour, Hongjoong easily passed them in between the lanes. When you arrived, he led you inside, and you took a moment to take in your surroundings. His place was cozy and stylish, with a mix of modern and vintage decor that reflected his artistic nature—most of it in black.

"Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing to the living room. "I’ll get started on dinner."

You settled onto the couch, watching him move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The aroma of garlic and herbs soon filled the air, and you felt that warm sense of domestic bliss wash over you yet again.

"Can I help with anything?" you offered, not wanting to just sit idly by.

He shook his head, smiling. "Nope, I’ve got it covered. Just relax and enjoy."

You chatted as he cooked, the conversation flowing effortlessly. It felt so natural, so right, to be there with him. Before long, he called you to the table, which he had set beautifully with candles and your favorite flowers.

"Dinner is served," he said with a flourish, placing a delicious-looking pasta dish in front of you.

You laughed, feeling a bit like you were in a romantic movie. "This looks amazing. Thank you, Hongjoong."

He walked back to the kitchen with a pleased smile on his face. "I’m glad you like it."

Hongjoong came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. You watched him with heart eyes as he opened the bottle, practically drooling over how his hands looked—and either he just didn’t notice, or he decided to ignore it, but he didn’t comment on your staring. He sat down in front of you and poured you a glass.

“You always call me ‘Hongjoong,’” he said.

“Hm?” You looked up at him from your glass of wine. “It’s your name.”

“I know, I know…” For the first time since you’d met him, he was getting shy. “I think it’d be nice if you started… I don’t know, forget about it.”

“What? Do you like pet names?” you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice. When you saw him nodding, your heart all but soared. You hadn’t expected someone like him to like cute, couple nicknames—maybe you should’ve guessed it from the number of times he called you sweetheart, baby, or love. “Like ‘baby?’ ‘Sweetie?’ ‘Pumpkin?’ ‘Sugar-cube?’”

“Now you’re just teasing me.” He groaned, but let out a laugh soon after. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” you admit with a giggle and start eating. “Could you pass me the salt, baby?”

Hongjoong’s grin grew wider, just at the cusp of letting out an adorable giggle, and he handed you the salt.

As you ate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was special. The food was delicious, the atmosphere perfect, and the company even better. Every now and then, your eyes would meet, and the unspoken connection between you seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Despite the pleasant ambiance, restlessness gnawed at you, making it difficult to focus on the meal. You twirled your fork absentmindedly, dropping subtle hints and playful comments, hoping Hongjoong would pick up on your mood.

He looked up from his plate, eyebrow quirked in amusement. "What's gotten into you tonight?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of teasing.

You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off his question. "Oh, nothing," you replied, avoiding his gaze as you took a sip of water.

Hongjoong leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes—as if he was ready to get you back for teasing him before. "Come on," he urged, reaching across the table to gently touch your hand. "Tell me what you're up to. You're acting strange."

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you struggled to maintain composure. Looking into his eyes, you found it hard to resist his playful charm. "Okay, fine," you finally admitted, your voice quieter than intended. "I've just been thinking... about us."

A flicker of concern crossed Hongjoong's face, and he squeezed your hand gently. "About us?" he prompted softly.

You nodded, feeling the weight of your confession. "Yeah," you began slowly, choosing your words carefully. "I miss... I miss how it felt when you touched me."

Hongjoong's expression softened, and he pulled his hand back, his thumb absently tracing circles on the tablecloth. "I miss that too," he admitted quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of longing and affection.

The honesty in his voice made your heart swell with warmth. "I didn't realize how much until tonight," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to ignore it, but... I can't."

There was a moment of silence between you, filled only with the soft hum of traffic outside. Hongjoong broke the quiet, his voice low and sincere. "I'm glad you told me," he said softly, reaching across the table again to take your hand in his. "Because I've been feeling the same way… I just didn’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything."

“I want you,” you admitted in a small voice. 

After your quiet admission, Hongjoong's eyes softened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly in reassurance. He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been wanting to hear you say that for so long," he confessed, his eyes searching for any hesitation.

After your quiet admission, a warm flush spread through you as Hongjoong’s gaze deepened with a mixture of affection and desire. His hand squeezed yours one last time before he let go, leaning back in his chair with a soft, contemplative smile. You were left stunned—how much more clear did you have to be for him to touch you again?

However, as the meal continued, the air between you was charged with a newfound intensity. You could barely focus on the food, each glance exchanged with Hongjoong sending a shiver down your spine. The unspoken tension only grew as the minutes passed, and it became clear that the two of you were in sync, your thoughts mirroring each other’s.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hongjoong put down his fork and began gathering the dishes. "I’ll take care of this," he said, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a smoldering undercurrent of emotion. He rose from the table, heading toward the kitchen with a stack of plates balanced effortlessly in his hands.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. Restlessness gnawed at you once more, and before you could overthink it, you found yourself rising from your seat, following him into the kitchen.

As you stepped through the doorway, you found Hongjoong standing at the sink, rinsing the dishes with deliberate care. The sound of running water filled the space, but it did little to drown out the thudding of your heart. You approached him quietly, the warmth of the dimly lit kitchen wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Without a word, you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. He froze for a moment, the dish in his hand forgotten as he registered your touch. Slowly, he turned off the faucet and set the dish aside, his body relaxing into your embrace.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" he teased gently, his voice laced with affection as he turned to face you, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You looked up at him, your arms still wrapped around his waist and shook your head. "Not for long," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips.

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch firm yet tender. "You know, you’ve been driving me crazy all night," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was a kiss that held all the unspoken longing, the unexpressed emotions that had been building between you throughout the evening. Your hands slid up his back, fingers tangling in his hair as you melted into him, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but the two of you.

Hongjoong deepened the kiss, his hands traveling from your face to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you was palpable, the kiss growing more urgent with every passing second.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. The cool surface of the counter was a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins, but it only heightened your awareness of every touch, every sensation.

Hongjoong’s hands roamed your body with a gentle urgency, one hand sliding up your back while the other cradled your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss even further. His lips were relentless, moving from your mouth to your jaw, down to the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You gasped softly, your fingers gripping his shirt as you arched into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against your skin.

"God, I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with desire as he continued to press kisses along your collarbone. "You have no idea."

You pulled his face back up to yours, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The tension that had been building between you all evening finally found its release, each kiss, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

Hongjoong’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he explored your skin with a tenderness that only fueled your desire. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you clung to him, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

But then, just as the kiss had deepened, Hongjoong suddenly slowed, his lips lingering on yours with a gentler, almost reverent touch. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours. The air between you was thick, both of you breathing heavily as you took in the weight of what was happening.

His thumb gently caressed your cheek, his eyes searching yours with a mix of longing and tenderness. "I don’t want to rush this," he murmured softly. "I want it to be perfect."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "Me too," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. There was a pause, a shared moment of understanding, where the intensity of the moment gave way to something deeper, something more meaningful.

Hongjoong’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "How about we go somewhere more private?" he suggested, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, the simple touch grounding you both in the gravity of the moment.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement wash over you. "Okay," you agreed quietly, your heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and eagerness. The urgency was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now it was tempered with the knowledge that this moment was about more than just passion—it was about connection.

You walked in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared confession hanging in the air like a promise. Reaching his bedroom, he opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, the familiar surroundings feeling suddenly new and charged with possibility. Hongjoong closed the door behind you, and you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a mix of uncertainty and desire.

He took a step closer, his hands gently cupping your face. "I want to make sure this is what you really want," he said softly, his gaze intense and sincere.

You nodded, your hands resting on his chest. "I've never been more sure," you replied, a teasing smile spreading on your lips. “Take me however you want, sir.”

With a newfound hunger, Hongjoong leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. It felt like he was pouring his energy into you, every touch feeling like an electric spark.

Hongjoong pulled back from the kiss, his breath warm against your lips. He searched your eyes, his expression earnest and caring. "Are you sure you’re okay with going further?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of desire and concern.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the anticipation building inside you. You nodded your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I trust you."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. "Good," he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms to your waist, pulling you closer. "I promise I'll take care of you."

His lips captured yours again, this time with more urgency, his hands exploring your body. You melted into his embrace, the world outside disappearing as you focused entirely on the sensations he was awakening within you.

He gently pushed you onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he stood over you. "I want you to let go, to feel everything," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, your pulse quickening at the authority in his tone. "Yes," you breathed, your body aching for his touch.

Hongjoong's smile deepened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Good girl," he whispered, his words sending a jolt through you. He took his time undressing you, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Every touch, every kiss was deliberate, heightening your anticipation.

It was only when you stood completely naked in front of him that he allowed himself to let go of you. He looked you up and down, and you felt the sudden urge to cover yourself—but when your hands reached up to cover your chest, he immediately took your wrists to keep them away.

“I told you before,” he murmured, “you’re beautiful. Don’t hide from me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “What are you going to do with me?”

“You’ll find out.”

He left your side and walked over to one of the closets. Inside the closet were no clothes. The drawers were filled with different toys—some things that you had never seen before—from dildos to restraints. Your jaw practically fell to the floor, and you could hear Hongjoong try to stifle a laugh.

“Do you still want to go further?” he asked, although it was clear that he knew he didn’t have to.

You could only nod, your eyes wide with suspense. 

“Sweetheart,” he warned.

“Yes.”

At one single word, you ended up on the bed with a blindfold on and your hands tied up behind you. Your knees were resting on the unsteady, plush mattress, and you were trying your hardest to stay upright. Despite not being able to see him, you knew that Hongjoong was still dressed—and it made your skin burn.

"You're doing so well," he murmured against your ear, his voice laced with both command and praise. The words sent shivers down your spine. 

Something soft, barely noticeable, tickled your chest. You heard Hongjoong laugh as you tried to squirm away. “Remember, baby, you can’t fall over. You promised me you wouldn’t. Liars get punished, you know?”

Gritting your teeth, you unsuccessfully tried to suppress another whine. You buried your knees into the mattress while Hongjoong kept teasing you, with what you could only assume was some sort of feather. The feather’s touch went from your clavicle to your chest, down your stomach, and to your spread thighs. 

Just as you started getting used to the feather’s touch, it disappeared from your skin. The bed tipped to your right, and you had to use every fiber in your being to not fall over. Hongjoong’s chest pressed against your shoulder, you could feel the soft fabric of his shirt. The urge to wrap your arms around his strong shoulders was irresistible. But no matter how much you pulled on the fuzzy handcuffs, they wouldn’t budge.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered in your ear.

“What is it?” you murmured.

“Patience…”

He moved around, and you could feel him right in front of you now. Pressing a few soft kisses to your clavicle, Hongjoong took his time loving you. The sweet kisses turned hungry when he began sucking and grazing his teeth against your skin. You soughed, leaning your head back and to the side to allow him more access. His lips disappeared and the bed dipped slightly to the side. Hongjoong had reached for something that he had put beside the bed earlier, and you were eagerly awaiting your surprise.

A burning sensation, like stepping under the shower before the water has heated up fully, pressed against your chest—the small point encapsulated by Hongjoong’s pillowy lips. A gasp escaped your lips, and you struggled against the restraints by mere intuition. Despite telling you to keep yourself upright, Hongjoong put his hands on your back to keep you still. The ice cube in his mouth ran over your warm skin, and he hummed as you let out a shaky moan.

“Baby, please.” You squirmed.

Hongjoong replied by humming again, but the ice cube stopped gliding over your skin. One of his hands fell on your jaw, guiding you to his lips. The piece of ice, now barely a slither, melted between your tongues as you kissed—a sense of euphoria that you never thought you’d experience.

Hongjoong pulled away, and your lips tried to chase him but he was no longer in front of you. Before you could register that he had climbed off the bed, you had fallen against the soft mattress—your ass up in the air, and your hands struggling on your back. You heard Hongjoong tsk beside you, and a harsh slap landed on your ass. His warm palm rubbed soothing circles over the stinging skin, but the message was clear; you had messed up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Your apologies fell on deaf ears as another slap hit your still-sensitive skin.

Hongjoong’s other hand went to your back, holding you in place. “Count ‘em.”

Another slap rang through your ears, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “Sir, I’m sorry–”

“I said.” Hongjoong’s fingers threaded through your hair, bending your head up until you could feel him breathing by your ear. “Count them.” His hand left your hair and went back to rubbing the burning skin of your ass. 

After managing to count to ten, Hongjoong’s fingers went from stroking your ass to rubbing your aching pussy. A soft mewl left your lips and you couldn’t help but to wriggle your hips. Your brain was fried at this point, and Hongjoong could tell. His hand disappeared from where you needed it most, although you had no time to complain about it. The handcuffs came undone, and your arms fell to your sides. He flipped you on your back, your aching thighs resting heavenly against the soft, cool sheets. Hongjoong got on top of you, pressing a few uncharacteristically soft kisses on your jaw and neck.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured, barely audibly.

You could only nod your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck. After you pressed a kiss on his temple, Hongjoong pulled back with a lovesick grin. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated, and his hair a mess. He looked angelic.

“You can keep going,” you muttered. “I can take it.”

“Oh yeah?”

You used the little strength you had left to lean up and kiss his plump lips—soft and chaste, your lips just barely touching before you laid back down. “Yeah.”

His lips attached to your neck again with a new sense of passion and intensity. You let your eyes fall close as a hum bubbled up your throat, your hands spreading out on his back to keep him close. You gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, trying to pull it up.

“Off,” was all you managed to get out. Despite wanting to keep teasing you, Hongjoong didn’t have the strength to do so. His shirt went over his head and flew somewhere else in the room, just like your clothes had earlier. His pants followed shortly after, and soon enough you finally got to feel his naked flesh against yours. 

Hongjoong’s hips were moving agonizingly slow against yours, but you had no voice to complain about it with—his lips wouldn’t leave yours. When your hand tried to go down your body to rub your clit, his hand was quick to pin your wrist to the bed.

“Let me take my time,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’ve been teasing me for so long,” you muttered back.

“You want control, baby?” he asked mockingly. Before you could say anything else, you found yourself on top of him. “Ride me. Take control.”

As soon as you tried to move your hips up, you realized just how tired your thighs were. A broken whine escaped your lips as you tried your best to set a pace. Hongjoong’s hands landed on your hips. He must’ve taken pity on you, as his hands started guiding you to follow a steady pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he hummed. “You’re doing so good.”

Your mouth fell open as you managed to pick up the pace—your climax quickly approaching. Hongjoong’s hips started to move to match your pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your moans growing in volume. Endless praise echoed from his lips, but they just barely met your ears. Only when he told you to cum could you really hear him.

When your climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, powerful and unstoppable, crashing over you and stealing the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your body arching as the sensation consumed you. Hongjoong help you through it, his arms a secure anchor in the storm of your release. His own climax followed, his body shuddering against yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined in a pure, unfiltered intimacy that left you both breathless and sated.

-

You and Hongjoong lay entwined in bed, your breaths mingling in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. The tender patterns his fingers traced on your skin whispered promises of comfort, a soothing contrast to the fiery intensity you shared just moments before. The warmth of his body against yours wrapped you in a cocoon of safety, easing the lingering heat of your passion, yet beneath his gentle caresses, a flicker of concern danced in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a breath above the silence. "I didn't... go too far, did I?"

Turning to face him, you cupped his cheek, your hand cradling his face with a tender intimacy. His eyes searched yours, seeking any sign of unease or regret. "I'm more than okay," you whispered with a soft smile, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone.

Hongjoong exhaled, releasing a breath he'd unknowingly held, his gaze softening, though the shadow of worry still lingered. "I just... I worry a lot," he admitted, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips.

You shook your head gently, brushing your thumb across his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath, the softness of his touch. "I know, my love," you murmured. "I want you to feel just as safe and cherished with me."

His eyes closed briefly under your touch, relief washing over him in waves. When he opened them again, there was a new light, a quiet resolve in his gaze. "I do feel safe with you," he confessed, his voice steadier now, carrying the weight of sincerity.

Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you. "Good," you replied, intertwining your fingers with his, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse, a comforting reminder of your connection.

The air between you grew lighter, the weight of unspoken fears dissolving with each shared word. There was a clarity, a deep understanding that bound you both in that moment. Hongjoong took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of profound connection.

"I... I love you," he murmured, the words tinged with both hesitation and certainty, hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

Your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions. "I love you too," you replied softly, your voice a tender echo of his confession.

Hongjoong’s arms tightened around you, his body molding to yours as though it had always been meant to be this way. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing perfectly with yours, creating a harmonious symphony of togetherness. His hand stroked your back in slow, soothing circles, sending ripples of warmth through your soul.

The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, the bedside lamp casting delicate shadows that danced across the walls. The world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you in this intimate sanctuary. Hongjoong’s breath brushed against your forehead, his lips pressing a tender kiss there, sealing the moment with gentle affection. His fingers found yours, interlacing them with a loving squeeze. As you gazed into his eyes, you found them brimming with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. Without breaking the gaze, he brought your knuckles to his lips. In that moment, clarity washed over you both—this was where you belonged.

feedback is always welcomed!

taglist:

@d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @niktwazny303, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy,

@hyneyedfiz, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @notevenheretbh1

[nonameonlyflowers]

Pillars of the Light -new blog, reupload-

-this is a reupload of the old intro post that was deleted with the old blog-

You were six when you were taken by the Sun clan.

You spent most of your life in a limbo of sorts: your childhood was comfortable enough, yet you're expected to spend your adult years serving the clan that took your away from your family. You're an agent for the people that care little about you, in a time when tensions are brewing between clans and the demonic threat is rising in the wastes to the north.

An unexpected mission changes your life… again. But maybe, for someone determined it can be an opportunity. Gain Freedom through Power.

Reach Heaven through Hell.

Or, maybe, you’ll decide that Hell is a nice enough place.

A fantasy story I’m working on-and-off in my free time, so updates will be slow. I’m intending for it to remain a free game from start to finish. 

As of 09/07/24, the prologue and ch1 are done and can be found here.

(or on dashingdon, untested)

Current word count: 62k words w/o code/67k with

CoG forum thread is over there

Planned features:

a story with a focus on plot and character interactions;

elements of horror and thriller;

a MC that is not a completely blank slate, but whose stats and relationships will affect their behaviour;

a mix of adventure and political intrigue storylines;

though there will be opportunities to build relationships, this won’t be a romance-focused game (romance will be a possibility, but not a focus).

(eventually) gain a voice in your head (for free)

(eventually) gain special powers (not for free) (and maybe decide it was not worth it)

(very eventually) decide that maybe you just want to burn it all to the ground

The story is expected to eventually touch upon some pretty heavy topics in addition to the usual (by usual I mean profanity, fantasy violence, blood and injury etc.). More details in the game itself.

Characters:

The Guard: Throughout your childhood, Ember had been by your side, whether either of you wanted this or not. If he detested his position, he never showed it; in fact, he showed very little at all. You don't know what kind of person lies behind the polite mask, so if you ever see him again, you might find him to be very different from what you'd guessed about him.

The Princess: Neith had a sheltered childhood. A very sheltered childhood, mandated by her mother's fear for the life of the family's sole heiress. Now she's trying to fight, but not against the role of the heir itself; rather, she feels that to become a worthy leader to her family, she must grow and learn first. Her behaviour is continiously putting her in opposition to her mother, and you sometimes wonder just how far she is willing to go.

The Priestess: An unusual priestess of the Temple dedicated to the Crying Goddess. She had asked to be sent along with you on your mission, but shows little interest in the mission's success. Cold and irritable, she seems to have personal reasons for following you, and occasionally you notice anger burning in her eyes - one that is not aimed at your enemies.

The Ascendant: He's the one you're supposed to be helping. He's also perhaps the one whom you can trust the least, no matter how friendly his smiles seem. You're all using each other, and as time passes, you realize more and more how precarious his position is. You suppose it's to be expected: if he didn't need help, you wouldn't have been sent to aid him.

tagging @interact-if (thank you in advance)

[hueningstar]

it’s so impressive how you put stuff out so fast. i aspire to be like you 😔

i’ve been thinking a lot about shower sex with beomgyu. like he would just love to come back home each day and spend time with you in the shower. it doesn’t always end in sex (but it usually does 🤭). i just feel like he’d love messing around and teasing you in the shower only to get you riled up over his dick

Soaked in Lust

Summary : Beomgyu loves spending time with you in the shower, teasing and messing around until it usually leads to something more.

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A/N : Aww, thank you so much,@pombeom ! That means a lot to me 💕 Honestly, the only reason I’m able to post so much right now is because I’m on vacation. But since I have a big exam coming up this summer, I probably won’t be as active closer to that time. After it’s over, though, I’ll definitely be back to posting more regularly! For now, I’m just trying to make the most of the free time I have and keep sharing with you all! 🩷

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Pairing : Beomgyu × reader

Warnings : teasing, making out, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), choking

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Beomgyu walks through the front door, a tired but content smile on his face as he sets his bag down. "Hey love, I'm home." He calls out, his voice warm and affectionate.

Beomgyu hangs up his coat and kicks off his shoes, making his way towards the bathroom. He can hear the sound of running water and the soft hum of your voice as you sing off-key in the shower.

A small smile plays on his lips as he enters the bathroom, the steam from the shower filling the room. He strips off his clothes slowly, savoring the anticipation of joining you. As he pulls back the curtain, he's greeted by the sight of your curves, all wet and soapy.

Beomgyu steps into the shower behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent mixed with the sweet smell of body wash. "Mmm, I missed you today, love."

You sigh contentedly as Beomgyu holds you close, his warm breath against your skin. "I missed you too, Gyu. It was so quiet without you here." You reach back to play with his hair, tangling your fingers in the wet strands.

Beomgyu nuzzles against your neck, his hands slowly roaming over your stomach possessively. He feels content just holding you like this, but his body begins to react to your closeness, growing hard against your back. He starts to nudge his nose against your neck, teasing.

You feel Beomgyu's nose nudging against your neck, and you giggle, tilting your head to give him better access. He takes advantage, nuzzling and kissing your neck softly, his hands slowly sliding lower towards your hips.

Beomgyu's hands finally settle on your hips as he pulls you more snugly against him. He can feel his length growing harder and thicker against your back, and he starts to wiggle his hips slightly, teasingly rubbing himself against you. "You always smell so good..."

You let out a soft moan as you feel Beomgyu's hardness pressing insistently against you. Arousal courses through your body, but you decide to tease him a bit. "Is that all you've got for me after one day apart? I thought you'd be happier to see me."

Beomgyu chuckles, his breath warm against your neck as he feels you teasing him. He wraps his arms around you tighter and nuzzles you again possessively. "You always know how to make it worse, don't you?"

In retaliation, Beomgyu suddenly spins you around to face him, pressing you back against the cool shower tiles. His eyes darken with lust as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue pushing past your parted lips to claim your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, your hands gripping Beomgyu's shoulders tightly as he pins you to the wall, his body flush against yours. The contrast of his hot skin and the cold tile sends shivers down your spine. You wrap a leg around his hip, grinding against him eagerly.

Beomgyu's hands slide down to squeeze your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if to emphasize his strength. He presses you harder against the wall, his erection now nestled firmly against your core.

You gasp at the sudden pressure and wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck. You look into his eyes, seeing the desire and love burning there. You lean in to whisper in his ear, your voice low and seductive.

Beomgyu shivers as your warm breath tickles his ear, his arms tightening around you possessively. He nuzzles your neck and growls softly, "You always make it difficult to be gentle..." His hands roam over your back and sides, kneading the flesh.

You smile against his ear, your own hands tracing patterns on his chest and abdomen. "That's the point, isn't it?" you whisper, your voice husky with desire.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against your lips. "Always," he agrees, his fingers digging into your hips as he lifts you up, settling you onto his lap with your legs draped over his. "Now, where were we?"

You bite your lip, wriggling in his lap until you feel his hardness pressing exactly where you need it.

Beomgyu groans as you grind against him, his fingers flexing on your hips. He captures your lips again, kissing you deeply as he repositions you, the tip of his cock now teasing your entrance. He pauses, looking into your eyes with a mischievous grin.

He slowly lowers you onto him, his hands spreading your thighs wider as he slowly fills you. He pauses halfway, making you whine and arch your back, trying to pull him deeper. He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You pout, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to force him deeper. "Beomgyu..." you whine, your voice filled with need and frustration. He smirks, loving the effect he has on you.

He slowly pushes all the way in with one deep thrust, making you gasp and moan loudly. His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts to move slowly, his pace deliberate and teasing "Is this what you wanted, love?" He whispers against your ear, his breath hot.

He continues to pound into you, his thick cock stretching your tight pussy to its limits. With each thrust, he hits that sweet spot inside you, making you scream in ecstasy. Your walls clamp down around him, trying to keep him inside as he fucks you hard and fast.

His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal stroke. You can feel his thick cock throbbing inside you, filling you up completely. He reaches around and starts rubbing your clit in circles, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

Feeling overwhelmed by sensation, you throw your head back and moan loudly, your nails raking down Beomgyu's chest. "Yes, right there!" you cry out, your hips bucking wildly to meet his thrusts.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. He's hitting angles inside you that you never knew existed, making you see stars with each thrust. "You like that, baby?"

You can only scream in response as he hits that spot inside you that makes you feel like you're going to pass out. His thick length fills you completely, stretching you wider than anyone else ever has.

Beomgyu's eyes darken with lust as he watches your reactions, feeling your tight walls flutter around his cock. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues his relentless pace, swallowing your moans.

His movements become more urgent, every stroke deliberate and deep. The sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, mixing with your moans and his heavy breathing. One hand moves from your hip to your throat, gently squeezing as he fucks you harder. "Come for me, baby."

You feel like you're going to pass out from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins. His thick length stretches you to your limits, filling you completely. His hand around your throat makes it hard to breathe, heightening the sensation.

He looks into your eyes, his own filled with dark lust as he chokes you gently around his thick length. "Look at me." he growls, his hips slamming into you over and over.

His eyes bore into yours, filled with unspoken words and intense emotion as he continues to choke and pound into you. You can feel his thick length throbbing inside you, ready to burst. He tightens his hand around your throat slightly, cutting off your breath completely.

Your mind starts to fog as the lack of oxygen mingles beautifully with the intense pleasure. Your body convulses uncontrollably, your orgasm ripping through you with shocking force. Beomgyu groans loudly as your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, milking his cock desperately.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills himself deep inside you, his hot seed filling you completely. He releases your throat, watching as you gasp for air, your chest heaving. Panting, he pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss despite the rough sex.

He nuzzles his face against yours, his heart racing against your chest. "Baby," he murmurs softly, his voice hoarse. He wraps his arms around you possessively, not wanting to let you go.

You nuzzle back, a contented smile on your face. Your body is still trembling with aftershocks, his seed slowly leaking out of you. You're wrapped up in his strong arms, feeling completely safe and loved.

He runs his fingers through your hair soothingly, his mind replaying the intense encounter. He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching your face. "Marry me." he blurts out, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widen in shock at his sudden proposal. You stare at him, speechless. After a moment, a soft giggle escapes your lips, turning into full-blown laughter. "You're asking me to marry you... right now?" you ask, still chuckling.

He grins, unapologetic. "Why not? I just fucked you so hard you saw stars. I think that's as good a moment as any to ask the woman I love to be my wife." he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Oh, is that all it takes to win a girl's hand? You'll need to keep those impressive skills up, mister." You smirk, teasing him gently.

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. "Don't worry, love. I'll make sure to give you the best fuck of your life every single day if you marry me." He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, sealing the unspoken promise between you.

After the intense lovemaking session, Beomgyu carefully lifts you into his strong arms, carrying you gently into a warm, bubbly bath, the soothing water enveloping your tired body.

He kneels beside the tub, washing your hair tenderly, his fingers massaging your scalp. As he rinses away the suds, his hands linger on your shoulders, kneading away the tension. "Feel good?" he asks softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You lean into his touch, letting out a contented sigh. "It does." you admit, feeling completely relaxed and loved. As he finishes cleaning you up, he helps you out of the tub and dries you off gently with a plush towel.

He carries you to the bedroom, tucking you into bed and kissing your forehead before turning off the lights and settling in beside you. As you drift off to sleep, you feel his arms wrap around you, holding you close and safe.

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taglist : @soobunni

[rosewoodcafe]

So It Goes...

You've married into high society, the sacred twenty eight being the group you're seen in most. Though the Malfoy name and riches have suited you well, there's only one name on your mind.

18+ tw for smut

Ominis x Reader

[This is to make up for the sad post of yesterday lol]

[This is like my first time writing smut so like if it's bad I'm sorry]

[This is inspired by So It Goes... by Taylor Swift. Enjoy!]

"Darling, are you ready to leave?" My husband asked from the bedroom.

"In just a moment I will be." I responded.

My husband, Mr. William Malfoy, a respectable man in the wizarding community, and filthy rich. When I caught his eye after Hogwarts I took my opportunity to rise in the ranks of the wizarding community. These past two years have been the easiest, making this man fall so deeply in love with me that he turns a blind eye to how much I am using him. His money fueling the many parties I host, and the many things I buy to fill the mansion I call home. I have everything I want. How could I ask for more.

I settled the last part of my outfit, a diamond pair of earrings, before looking at myself in the full length mirror. A silky black dress hugged my figure, the sleeves long but sheer, and a slit up the left side. My hair was undone with it perfectly curled around my face, red lipstick being the only pop of color. I smiled at myself, knowing that everyone would be looking at me, and only be this entire party. The youngest bride amongst the other twenty eight families, yet the most stunning.

My walk out to the main hall was quick, clutch in hand with my wand tucked safely inside. I saw my husband waiting below, pacing in his all black tux. His eyes met my body and his jaw dropped.

"You look stunning my dear." He said, holding my hand as I walked down the steps. "You will draw the attention of everyone, and I shall be the one to break it to them that you are mine."

"Thank you, you look incredibly handsome as well." I smiled. He placed a small kiss on my cheek as I got into our carriage.

~

The Gaunt Manor was nearly identical to last year. 

Not a single thing on the outside had changed, its haunting look being elegant against the sunset. The carriage landed amongst all the others, and the door opened quickly. William helped me out and wrapped his elbow in mine, leading us the marble steps of the Gaunt home.

Inside there were people everywhere, each in black or white, a mask adorning each face.

"Sir. Ma'am." A house elf said, handing a mas up to the each of us. William took his and quickly put it on, and I did the same. We entered the main hall where more people were, dancing in the center of the room.

There he sat, at the front end of the room, like a king. 

Ominis fucking Gaunt.

I knew he would be here, obviously, but I did not expect him to be the one hosting the event in total. I hated seeing him. 

William walked us closer to Mr. Gaunt, the two of us having to greet him. The crowd practically parted for us, the gasping at the display of the Malfoy name. 

"Mr. Gaunt, wonderful to see you." William spoke to Ominis, who looked entirely unamused.

"Welcome Mr. Malfoy," Ominis spoke, "and, Mrs. Malfoy I presume."

"I am," I responded. "This is a beautiful party you have hosted Mr. Gaunt."

Ominis's eyes widened just a bit, the shocked expression turning to normal as quickly as it came. 

"I hope you enjoy. I will be making my round soon." Ominis said.

William walked us both from the front table, Ominis's blind gaze following our direction.

The night went on without a hitch, my husband dancing with me in front of the crowd, the many whispers reaching across the party. Each only had one thing to say.

She's the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.

It fueled my desire. I could feel Ominis's foggy gaze on us the whole night. The power I held of these people that gawked over me, over my looks. They were looking at me, and that's all that mattered. Our dance concluded and William stepped closer to me.

"I have to deal with some business," he whispered, "don't get yourself into to much trouble."

"No promises." I smiled. He returned the smile before leaving, disappearing into the crowd.

I walked back towards the wall, where not many people were at, needing a breath of fresh air. A door lead down an empty hall, one I knew I should not be in, but even if I was caught nobody would punish me. A balcony overlooking the garden was visible, and I opened the door, letting the warm summer air grace my lungs. I wasn't sure how long I had been standing there when I heard his voice.

"Malfoy, huh?"

I turned to see Ominis leaned against the open doorway, his arms crossed.

"Yes, I married him earlier this year." I said smugly. "You were invited, but I suppose your invitation got lost in the post."

A small smile crept onto his mouth, a devilish grin that any normal person would be afraid of.

"Don't be short with me dove," he paused, "you may be a Malfoy now, but that still makes you less then a Gaunt."

I could feel my jaw tighten. I hated him, I hated his smugness, and I hated how despite it all if he took me right here and now I wouldn't say a word.

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled.

"Actually no, the snake did." I shot back. I leaned over the railing, looking over the garden. I felt a hand snake up my back, resting just below my shoulder blade.

"I missed you." He spoke softly.

"I haven't."

"You most certainly have. If you didn't you would be letting me touch you right now." He smiled again, that damn smile that got him everything he wanted. But he was entirely right.

"If my husband saw you now-"

"He would say nothing," Ominis interrupted, "he would think it's an honor that he picked such a wife that a Gaunt heir wants her."

"You don't want me, you made that clear when I last saw you."

"And you told me that no matter what I would never touch you again, yet here we both are. Breaking both of our promises."

He moved his hand low, settling it on my hip. I wanted to pull him in, to kiss him and feel him.

"You ruined me." Ominis whispered into my ear.

"You ruined me." I whispered back, his other hand was on my arm, tracing up the fabric. "I was bound to marry the man I loved until you said he wasn't enough for me."

"Because I will never be enough for you." His fingers delicately moved their way up to my shoulder. "I will never be enough of a man for you."

"I didn't care."

"I do." He breathed heavily as he moved his body behind mine, pressing into me. "I did."

"If you don't care anymore, then take me." I whispered. His hand placed itself lightly around my throat. 

"You are another man's wife." He hummed into my ear. "I can't take you."

"He hasn't had me." 

Ominis quickly loosened his grip on my neck, spinning me to face him, my ass pressed against the railing of the balcony.

"He hasn't had you yet?" He said quickly. "How could he resist a woman like you?"

I smiled at his comment. Of course Ominis was shocked, even I never let him have me before. I was waiting for marriage, but William said he didn't enjoy such past times, so only when we wanted children is when he would provide that service to me. 

"He has never once asked to take me." I said softly, pulling Ominis tie bringing him closer to me. His breathing became heavy. His hand weaving into my hair, tugging slightly.

"Would you let me take you?" His face was so close to mine, one slightly movement and our lips would clash.

"Only if you ask nicely." I smirked, leaning ever so close to him. He pulled my head back.

"Please dove, let me be the one to take care of you for the first time." He whispered into my ear.

"Yes, you may."

He pressed his lips needily into mine, his lips soft and sweet against my own. Ominis's lips trailed down my jaw, his hand tugging my head back by my hair to reveal my neck to him. I moaned into his deep kisses, the slight bites and licks he gave after. 

I placed my hands on the side of his face lifting up to me. Our lips met again, with more of a hunger then before. I wanted him so badly for so long, and only now do I get him. My fingers fidgeted with his tie, attempting to undo it while I was also unbuttoning his shirt. I kissed down his jaw and neck as he caught my wrists in his hands.

"Not here my love."

His arms tucked under my thighs, hoisting me around his hips. I kept kissing him, leaving red around his jaw, neck, and cheeks. He walked inside, and to a room on the left, opening the door as he held me up, and closing it just as quickly. He carried me to the bed, placing me down so gently.

"You don't know how badly I've wanted you. How badly I wanted to please you in the way you deserve."

He ran his hands up the curves of my dress, taking in the sensation of the fabric. His lips trailed kisses up to my lips, leaving a heat behind that was addicting.

"I wanted you so badly." I moaned as he sucked on my neck. "Omi- I want you."

My hands found his hair, entangling my fingers in his old money locks. He gripped harder on my waist, holding me under his grasp. He made his way back up, kissing me deeply and letting his tongue explore my mouth. I tugged off his tie, throwing it hastily to the floor. He broke our kiss, taking off his suit jacket.

"Open your legs my dear." He whispered, a hand running up my bare thigh. 

"What if I say no?" I humored, letting a small smile cross my lips.

"Then I will leave right now, and promise to never pleasure you again." Ominis smiled, leaning closer in and giving me a deep kiss. He settled his body between my legs, pressing his body against mine. I could feel the heat building in my stomach, and the warmth below from him. 

He kissed me deeper and I moved my hips against him, making him groan into our kiss. He pulled me up so I sat on the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped in my hair as he explored my mouth further. I grinded my hips further onto him, making him groan more.

"You tease." He laughed as he kissed down, pulling at the neckline of my dress. "I need this off of your body, now."

"Then take it off."

He smirked at my challenge, pulling me in for a kiss as his hands worked at the back of my dress, pulling the top down to my waist. His kisses trailed down my body, hot and wet, his tongue finding my peak, taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. I felt so sensitive as I held his head, pushing him closer into me.

"O- omi- " I moaned out.

"Shh, you must be quiet." He licked around my nipple, giving it a kiss. "Unless you want the entire party, and your husband, to know I am making love to you."

"I don't," I let out a breath, melting to Ominis's touch. "I'll be quiet."

"Good."

He continued his assault on my mounds, taking time to pleasure each one until I was throbbing below. He teased me until I reached the edge, denying me the release. His fingers gracefully traced over the wet fabric of my panties, making my whole body shiver.

"I don't know why I pushed you away, when this could be you every night." He spoke softly between kisses. "This could be you as my wife ever night my dear."

I wanted to explode, every nerve ending on fire for how far he had pulling the string in me. I needed to release, every part of me needed to feel him.

"O-h Omini-s please." I moaned out as his fingers pressed into the fabric of my heat below.

"Someone is needy hm?"

He pressed against my sensitive bud, releasing a louder moan from me.

"Open your legs my love."

I did as I was told, opening my legs wider, the dress being pushed aside as he lowered himself to be in line with my heat.

"I'm going to taste you love. If you become uncomfortable, please tell me." Ominis placed a kiss at my stomach before moving the fabric down my legs, reveling my soaked opening. His finger moved along the inside of my thighs, finding the opening. "God you're going to be delicious."

Ominis's head delved into me, and I felt heaven for the first time. Each stroke of his tongue, each press of his finger, each suck made me reach higher and higher. I moaned his name as he held me closer, pulling my thighs into his face. I could feel that string tightening again.

"Ominis- I'm goin-"

He kept going at the same pace, relentless in the pursuit of my release. I could barely breath as I felt the string snap, sending me over. I felt as if everything was right, that I truly was Ominis's in this moment, that I only would ever be his. He lifted his face from me, licking his finger clean of my release.

"You are the best this I've tasted at this party my love." He whispered into my ear. I held his face as I kissed him, tasting myself on his lips.

"I want to taste you." I said softly.

"No, this is all for you tonight." He smiled. "I want you to feel as amazing as you can, so when you have to crawl back to that husband of yours, you'll think of me when you have to touch yourself."

Ominis raised himself from me, undoing his pants, and pulling out his length. Unintentionally I let out a small gasp.

"Like what you see?" Ominis chuckled.

"I- I didn't know they were that big," I paused. "I don't know if it will fi-"

"It will," he smirked, "you were made for me, of course it will fit. Now breathe, it will be a bit painful the first time, I will be gentle."

I took a breath as he lined himself up with me. I could feel his tip rub against my fold, a tingling sensation arising through my body. He finally eased it into me, slowly inching himself deeper into me. It was painful, like a stab into my body, but I also felt entirely complete. Ominis buried himself deep into me, finding my lips and exploring my mouth with his tongue. After a moment he pulled himself out partially, and pushed himself back in.

"Fuck darling, you are so wet," he whispered. "It's taking everything in me to not release into your perfect self."

He pushed in a little harder, releasing a groan from his lips. When he pulled out again it was nearly his whole length, and upon pushing it back in I moaned out one thing.

"Harder."

Something clicked in Ominis, his ridged body before gripping into my flesh. His careful demeanor gone, and the gentleness disappeared. Harder then before he began pushing and pulling himself in me, making me body shiver to his touch. 

I wanted to scream his name as he pushed deeper into me at a harder pace. His lips searing hot as he kissed my body.  I felt my nails dig into his back, scratching down as his dick slammed into the most sensitive spot in my heat. The string in me tightened each time he pushed into me, his hand held my wrists above my head. My body was at the complete mercy of Ominis, and I liked it. He moved his other hand to my bud, rubbing it as he pressed against me harder. His breathing became erratic as he pushed harder and deeper into me, making me see heaven again.

"Release for me darling, I want to feel you." He whispered as he kissed my neck. It sent me over the edge, my walls pulsating on his length as I rode through my high. "Fuc- love I can- I'm going to-"

"Do it in me!" I moaned out as he slammed into me.

"I-"

"I want to be yours Ominis Gaunt!" I felt my legs shake as he pounded harder, letting himself release into me. 

He let my wrists go, holding himself up while still plunged deep in me.

"Love, I need you to leave your husband." He chuckled. "I can't live without this- without you, anymore."

"Perhaps Mr. Gaunt, maybe a certain someone is slipping a poison into Mr. Malfoy's drink as we speak." I smirked. "Leaving me a fortune, and a widow."

"You're such a bad girl." 

"I only do bad things for you."