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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 days

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When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt1

Warnings: Cursing, Mentioning of Blood

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JISUNG|

There was nothing you loved more than Jisung's singing. Well maybe Jisung himself.

But from the moment you heard him sing you knew that it was game over for you. You didn't know what you had done to have God bless you with the off chance of running into the chubby cheeked boy on the street during a last-minute girls' trip - the result of a horrible breakup.

And you sure as hell didn't know what you did to have him become smitten with you at first glance, softly asking for your number - even though it was obvious you weren't going to stay long.

But after a week of non-stop texting and meme exchanging it was obvious the feeling was mutual so long distance was something you were willing to try.

And it was the best decision you had ever made. Two and a half years strong.

The last year you had spent in South Korea had been filled with wonderful memories too, and you quickly found yourself getting used to living life with Hanji.

"Sungie!" You burst into the studio and Jisung jumped in fear. "I brought you something!"

He turned around with wide eyes and his mouth opened slightly. "What is it?"

You handed him a couple of his favorite snacks and an energy drink. "I figured you were tired since the guys told me you didn't come back to the dorms..." You wrapped your arms around him and peeked over his shoulder at to what he was scribbling in his favorite, beat up notebook. "What are you writ-"

Jisung quickly closed his notebook. "N-nothing."

"Lemme see!" You giggle reaching for it again. He quickly pulled away. "Jiji you always show me your songs!" You said, not noticing his growing irritation.

"Y/N stop I don't want you to see this one." He said grabbing his notebook.

"Why not?" You whined, trying one last time to grab it. "Thats are thing you show me your songs even before you show the guys!"

Your hands folded around the broken metal spine and part of the papers themselves and Jisung pulled away with an extreme amount of force.

The small part of metal that had no home in the small holes of the spiral bound book hooked its way into your hand. And with Han's forceful pull, ripped open your skin as well in a thing but deep wound.

You hissed in pain slightly from a small paper cut on your middle finger, which was ironic considering the much deeper gash in the palm of your dominant hand.

"Dammit Y/N!" He snapped looking at his ripped pages.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." You said quietly.

"Well you did!" He mumbled turning his back on you looking for tape on Chan's cluttered desk.

"I'm sorry."

"Its whatever." Han mumbled, his back still turned to you.

You hold your wrist, you hand bloodied. "Jiji-"

"Y/N I want to be alone right now." His voice was firm, and you could tell he was trying to hide his growing anger. You wanted to respect his wishes but your injury seemed to throb even more by the second, even more blood spilling out.

You nodded but opened your mouth to speak again trying to ask him for help with your gushing hand. "I know but-"

"FUCK Y/N!" Jisung screamed slamming his hands on the table. "Just leave me alone! Stop being clingy for two seconds and give a moment to breathe! You just ruined something extremely important just because you don't know when to stop messing around."

You bit your cheek, trying to stop the tears that were pricking your eyes from falling.

You knew that Jisung was only calling you clingy to to get you to go away. To hurt you enough so you'd want to leave. He had done it before.

And even though it was a bad habit, it was proving really hard for him to break.

You quickly made your way out after watching your boyfriend for a few more seconds as he started tearing small pieces of tape from the dispenser.

And even still you couldn't help but have your heart flutter at his concentration as he bent down to carefully place pieces of tape on the ripped pages.

Dammit. Why do I always have to go and ruin things... You think to yourself as you head out to your car. Grabbing an extreme amount of paper towels to soak up the red liquid streaming from your hand.

You go to wipe your tears, but only smearing blood on your face causing even more tears of frustration, sadness and disappointment to fall from your eyes.

Fuck. I'm gonna need stitches.

You drove to the hospital, continously blinking to keep your vision clear through your emotional state. You were so focused on the road and replaying the whole situation that had just occurred in your head you didn't realize your phone was ringing.

Once you computed the ringning you frantically reached for your phone, so you could talk to Jisung - apologize, just talk things through - not remembering the state your hand was in and feeling it rip open even more, causing your phone to slip and a strangled cry of pain escape your lips.

Incoming call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

Your phone had fallen in between the crack of your seat and you tried grabbing it while keeping your eyes on the road.

Incoming call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

"Holy shit can't I-"

You heard the blaring of a horn and by instinct you turned opposite of the direction you heard it coming from, only to have the noise covered by metal crunching on metal.

Missed Call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

Beeeep.

You have one new voicemail.

"Jagiya - I saw blood on my paper. Were you bleeding? Look, I know you probably don't feel like talking to me and that's valid. I say a lot of mean things to get space- and I know how wrong that is of me. Just...call me back okay? Let me know you're okay...there was...a lot...of blood. A lot...I'm worried. You can be mad but please just let me know, okay? I feel bad. I had a reason for hiding the lyrics; but it just seems stupid now. Because you got hurt because of me...I know I'm ranting but I'm worried sick. So please just...text or something. At least tell me you have the cut bandaged or something. Because baby if I would have realized sooner you were bleeding that much...God I feel like an idiot. Just call me, okay? Or you know what text if you don't feel like talking...just let me know your safe...the guys are worried too...you left a trail...God I feel so bad. Maybe I'm exaggerating but it looked like so much...I love you. Okay? I love you."

Click.

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FELIX|

You heard your front door unlock and looked behind you to see Felix walking in.

He slipped his shoes off and immediately headed towards the game room you had set up from an old study when you and him had frist started dating.

Your desk was still in the corner, but you had set up all of Felix's extra gaming things throughout the rest of the room. Stringing up LED lights and making it as aesthetically pleasing as possible since had taken a liking to filming some of his lives in that room once your relationship had gone public.

You got up from the couch and followed Felix into the room. He didn't seem like his usual cheery self. And his determined steps into the game room differed from his usually excited steps and leaned more towards annoyance.

"Lix is everything okay?" You asked, coming to stand by him. You placing the energy drink you were sipping on by him as you reach out to give him an embrace.

"I'm fine Y/N." He mumbled, trying to shake his PC awake. Then trying to turn on the LED's and lamp next to him. When they didn't turn on he tried plugging his phone in to the extra charger that he always kept plugged in at your home, groaning when that too didn't work.

"You seem upset love, you know I'm here for you."

"I said I'm fine." He snapped as he got up and started looking at the different wires connecting the lights and other various things in the room. "This damned thing."

You got up and looked at the wires yourself. "Let me see-"

"I got it, Y/N." Felix said sternly as he moved his makeshift desk back carefully from the wall enough to squeeze back there and look at the outlets.

At the same time you notice the extension cord didn't look like it was fully plugged in. You let out a small noise of acknowledgement and crawled under table to plug it in.

It was too bad Felix didn't notice your other hand resting on the ground for balance, as he stepped on it while trying to get a better look.

You yelped in pure shock, your head coming up to bang against the underside of the table- and Felix jumping back in surprise - and reaching out to balance himself but instead knocking over your drink onto his extremely expensive keyboard.

You had never heard so many profanities string from his mouth at once.

"I'll go get towels-"

"Are you fucking slow Y/N?!" His voice was harsh. Nothing like the gentle tone he always used with you. "Maybe you are. Would explain why you'd think a fucking corrosive drink could be easily cleaned from a keyboard. GOD." He groaned slamming his fist down.

"Felix I didn't-"

"I didn't know! I didn't know!" Felix mocked. "Well no shit you didn't know. Who in their right mind puts an open drink next to a set up that probably costs more than your monthly wages."

You felt your chin start to tremble and you tried to take a breath.

"You know maybe if you weren't clinging to me 24/7 this wouldn't have happened. Now thanks to you I have to find replacements." He grumbled pushing past you.

You turned to follow him like a lost puppy.

"Dammit did you not get the hint?!" He shouted turning back towards you. "You really are slow holy shit." He spat out.

You watched him make his way towards the door grabbing his keys and just walking out in his house slippers that's how angry you had made him.

"I can fix it..." You whimpered, trying to wipe your tears as you collected an arrangement of towels both dry and cloth. "I-I can f-fix itttt..." You whine as you hold the towels with shaky hands trying to mop up the mess.

"I-I'll fix-fix it-" You keep repeating to yourself until your vision is so blurred by tears the they flow over into the crevices of his precious keyboard. You try to soak up the mousepad he had customized, and the fabric of his chair.

"I'll...fix it..."

Soon enough those three words didn't sound like words you had said them so much.

Your hands were red and raw from scrubbing down the table so much. And you could barely even breath through your desperate cries.

His words kept ringing in your head.

He sounded so angry. You had never seen him like that. And it scared you. It scared you so much.

So much it had you considering if his accessories were the only thing he'd ever consider replacing.

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SEUNGMIN|

You sat in the dressing room, waiting for Seungmin to come back stage.

Tonight was the kickoff concert for their mini tour. Just ten destinations. A mix of normal venues, mini music festivals and things of such.

Ever since you and Seungmin had become a thing a little over three years ago, you had made it your mission to attend all of his concerts. While at first you flew under the radar of attendance- you soon became the "Where's Waldo" of sort when your relationship became public- stays doing everything they could to spot you in the crowd.

Tonight was no different other than the fact that everything went abswolutely horrible.

Malfunction after malfunction. Although most of the Stays were too preoccupied with the the visuals and the improv to really care about the mistakes on the crew end of thing.

And you had come backstage to tell Seungmin the same thing that all the Stays in the crowd had been thinking.

You did great.

Most of the time on Seungmin's shorter trips you stayed out of his way. Calling him and just infroming him of the different places you were visting in the cities, and asking if he would like any specific souvenirs. Thats the way you balanced out most. Thats the way things had worked and you figured they would continue to work...

Until Seungmin came in,.

"What are you doing here?" He asked throwing his jacket on the closest chair, and immediately going to strip off his shirt.

"I just wanted to come in and see how you were doing." You said quietly- gently.

"Appreciate it but you're not exactly helping my situation. I come into the dressing room for a breather - some space but your in here." He sighs grabbing a towel and trying to soak up his sweat.

You frown and look at him, his puppy eyes clouded with frustration.

"I just wanted to tell you that you did good...none of that was your fault. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of that..."

"Y/N. You're getting overwhelming. Seeing you home, at the studio in the audience- I can't catch a fucking break. Its like you're acting as my fucking shadow- clinging on to me wherever I go. Normal couples don't do that." He said as he stepped behind a portable stall to change completley.

You opened your mouth but closed it quickly, not wanting to start something you knew Seungmin was more than likely to finish.

"Like everytime I see you it's such a burden really..." Seungmin came out drying his sweaty hair with a smaller towel. "Like don't you ever get sick of seeing me all the time?" He gives out a smile and a laugh, but his eyes don't crinkle the same way they usually do.

You bite your cheek. "No...why would I get sick of seeing you? Why...would I ever see you as a burden?"

Your boyfriend looks at you in the reflection of the mirror, and turns to see the pain in your eyes.

"I came back here to comfort you Min...but instead you want to find ways to tear me down? So effortlessly at that?" Your voice is growing in pitch by the second but getting quieter and quiter. "I've spent three years supporting you in everything that you do. I've spent money to surprise you on trips Seungmin! When you know I don't have the money to do that!" Seungmin flinches when you use his full name. It had been so long since he heard anything other than a nickname fall from your lips when talking to him. "I always put you before me...am I really that much of a burden to you Seungmin?"

The quiet boy just looked at you.

"Dammit say something!" You exclaimed.

"I...don't know what you want me to say Y/N...I appreciate you coming to my concerts. I do...but don't you have another life outside of me?"

You clenched your jaw. "You're geniunely asking me that? When we've spent over three years together?"

Seungmin sighed. "You know I don't mean it like that..."

"Then how do you mean it?"

He fidgeted and opened his mouth to say something but bit his tongue and thought for a second more.

"You know what...maybe you're right Seungmin." You grab your purse and coat.

"Where are you going?" He asked, a bit of panic creeping into his voice.

"Away." You mumbled. "You're right Seungmin. I don't have a life outside of you. And maybe that's why this doesn't feel so right anymore."

You reach for the door and you feel both his hands wrap around your arm.

"B-Baby...y...you don't mean that...you don't." He pleaded softly. You watched as his brown eyes searched your face for any bluff. "We're right...we feel right-we we fit right..." His voice took a little pitiful whine to it and you felt as if you just kicked a puppy.

Right now he looked like a kicked puppy.

You had to turn your face away so he couldn't see your walls built in anger break.

Because no matter how petty you could be you wouldn't do that to Seungmin.

Would you?

"Seungmin...you think you can just go and say those things...the things that effortlessly hurt me?" You took a deep breath. "It's like you put no thought into how you crack my heart."

Not break. He couldn't break it...

"Jagiya...please...please stay?"

Couldn't my ass. He damn well could. And two could play that game.

"I'm leaving." You said pulling your arm from him roughly, knowing that you ripping yourself from the embrace you relied on so much would hurt him the most.

"You don't mean it...we're both frustrated...Jagiya..."

You decided not to look back as you walked out the door.

Knowing just how quickly your resolve you fold if you saw just how easily Seungmin's heartbreak was painted on to him.

You knew you'd fold the second you saw how his heartbreak mirrored your own.

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JEONGIN|

Please leave a message after the tone.

You groan as you guide yourself to the counter, holding onto it trying to find unwavering land in the battle of dizziness you were fighting.

Please leave a message after the tone.

"Pick up..." You groan as you try to hit the call button for Jeongin, your vision was clouded and you mistakenly pressed your second most recent call.

"Y/N? What's up?"

"Ji...Jisung...grab Jeongin for me?"

"Y/N...he's a little...irked right now. We were poking fun at him when you called but I think we went a bit too far... I don't think its the best idea..."

"Jisung, please?"

You heard Jisung shuffle around, and you heard the crunching of leaves as he made his way towards the sound of loud laughter.

"Innie! Your girlfriend is one the phone!"

You think you're hearing things when you hear Jeongin's distinct groan- but you don't have time to think about it before you hear all of his elder group members "ooh" and "ahh" at the youngest member.

"What is it?" The annoyance in his voice is evident.

"Innie...I don't feel good." You say steadying yourself on the counter. Your hands are slick with sweat, just like the rest of your body.

"Y/N I don't know what you want me to do about that." He says, covering the mic to yell something at the members- who are making kissing noises and mimicking romantic music in the background. "I'm hours away and I'm not gonna be back until Monday."

You whimper as you lower yourself onto the ground, your head swimming with dizziness - all while feeling as if someone tigthened a rubber band around your noggin.

"Stop being so dramatic and take medicine if its that bad." He finally says. "It's embarassing to have you blow up my phone while I'm on a guys trip - and even more embarassing for you to blow up my friends phones as well."

Something about the way he says my makes your heart sting slightly. As if you hadn't cultivated friendships with the guys as well.

"Maybe if you had answere-"

"Just stop Y/N! I'm not a baby! And having you cling to me...its making the guys think that. I mean don't you see how annoying that looks? Childish? Being clingy is downright childish."

You can't really focus on Jeongin's angry rant because you vision is getting blurry, and your head is throbbing so horribly, and your body is getting so clammy you can't focus on anything other than how shitty you feel.

"I think I'm gonna pass out-"

You hear Jeongin's exasperated huff. "You always have to make it about you don't you?! I'm trying to tell you how I want you sto stop blowing up my phone so damn much while I'm with the guys and you're here being dramtic. We're adults Y/N. We don't have to rely on each other for everything! So just lay down if your feeling that bad. I don;t cal you for everything."

You groan into the phone. "Jeongin-"

"Holy shit Y/N, can't you take a hint? For fuck's sake...I'll talk to you Monday." He said before hanging up, his tone exuding the aura of a typical "too-cool-for-anyone" teen boy or more specifically a hormonal attitude filled PMS monster.

You take a second to breathe, the nausea that was hitting you in waves only coming in faster and stronger.

You scrolled through your contacts and just clicked on one. Your fingers were trembling and you could barely press the speaker button before dropping your phone to the ground in a moment of weakness.

I'm gonna pass out...just...a minute longer...wait until someone answers...

You decided to not delay the inevitable and just lay on the cool ground that you'd end up on anyway. Might as well save yourself from an uneccassary bump.

"Hello?"

"I think I'm gonna faint..." You groan.

"The fuck? Y/N? What? I'm on my way I'm at the studio I'll be there in a minute..."

You give a small hmm and lean more into the floor if that was possible.

It brought you back to when you were a child, and would decide to randomly nap on the ground.

Maybe I am childish...

Maybe he was right...

You're mine clears as your mind goes static then black as if a switch turned on.

"Y/N? Y/N!"

When you open your eyes your blinded by lights and instantly annoyed by the beeping of mulitple machines.

"Y/N-ie!" You see the smiling faces of Chaeryeong and Yeji. Then Ryujin, Lia and Yuna's faces pop around you too.

"The doctor said your blood sugar was extremley low." Yeji said grabbing your hands. "He said that they're gonna run a few more tests on you too see what the cause of it was."

"We were worried sick when you called Chaer so we all came!" Lia exclaims.

You smiled gratefully, your head still throbbing slightly.

"Thank you." You said quietly.

"I called Changbin." Chaeryeong commented. "I thought it was best that one of the Kids relay the message to your boyfriend."

You pop up in bed, the sudden movement dizzying you. "What? What did you say?"

"I just told him we found you past out in your kitchen. At that point we didn't know what caused it...so all I said is we were bringing you to the hospital."

"Your boyfriend has been calling your phone for the last hour and a half." Yuna says nodding towards your phone.

26 missed calls.

"Hah...so he calls me clingy and childish then proceeds to call my phone 26 times?" You groan as you throw yourself back onto the hospital bed.

The ITZY girls look at you with sympathetic looks, Yeji squeezing your hands gently as well.

"Fuck it." You mumble, a fit of anger bubbling inside you as you swiped away all the call notifications, an insurge of pettiness filling you. "Clingy and childish my ass. I'll show him what that actually looks like."

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang

#skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids reactions #skz reactions #skz stay #skz angst #yang jeongin #stray kids #lee felix #han jisung #kim seungmin

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goldsbitch · 3 days

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I'm not sure if your requests are open but what about the whole fire situation at McLaren, Lando can't find the reader and he's freaking out and he cares more about finding her than putting shoes on - obv she's be OK and just stand there with oscar or sth 😭

-omg I love this request! added a bit here and there, so hope you'll like it...thank you!!

Fire.

Rick was a 23 year old McLaren assistant who, by sheer luck, managed to land a job with the racing team. This being his first season and immediately being thrown into following the team on the road. It was an exciting life, but a little fast and hard to follow in the beginning. He was just trying to blend it and feel out what is it that is actually required from him.

It was few hours after the fire was put down and if he knew one thing it was that corporate is expecting a quick short report asap, before the long report from health and safety people follows. He'd been sitting there, in Pirelli hospitality, stressed out as if his life depended on this - and honestly, it probably did a little bit. It was quite baffling to him why was it that the team elected him to be in charge or reports to corporate. On a normal day, it was fairly easy - reporting minor injuries, heatstrokes and collecting reports from the mechanics and resending them. And now, he was to do a full on fire report? He hasn't even seen one before!

He tried to ignore his inner panic and put together few pages of text, trying to tune into the confusing language corporate sometimes required. The part he dreaded the most was "describing how the drivers were evacuated" part of the form.

Oscar Piastri (driver 81) had not been at the premise when the fire was detected, therefore there was no need to evacuate him.

Lando Norris (driver 4) had been running around like a panic filled duck making the evacuation way more difficult for everyone.

Nope, this was not even an option, no matter how much would Rick like to send this out and watch the world burn, again.

Lando Norris (driver 4) was in his driver room when the evacuation started, definitely not blasting his music into unhealthy levels and certainly did not miss the first warning because of it.

Nope.

Lando Norris (driver 4) used his unique ability to be as extra as possible at any given moment that we can thank him for creating yet another viral moment, the image of him, standing outside the mobile hospitality building with no shoes, gaining a permanent place on the internet.

This was going to be a difficult decision for poor Rick.

Lando was excited about the Barcelona race, this being only the second time he was on pole. And all of that happening on the weekend he and his new girlfriend decided to make their relationship official, hard launch around the paddock.

But he also understood he needed his alone time to get prepared and Y/N supported that completely, not wanting him to babysit her constantly.

He was full on enjoying his pre-race ritual. Chilling on his couch and blasting music loudly and proudly, flicking his toes to the rhythm of the latest bops and getting lost in his strategy, going over the plan they had for that race.

All was good and well - until the smoke coming from the stairs started to spread, together along with panic.

"Lando!" a voice said while barging unapologetically through his door. "We need to evacuate!"

He nearly had a heart attack and fell of the sofa, as he did not expect anything to happen on that nice Sunday morning.

"What?" he said, putting his music on mute and only now hearing the general mayhem happening outside his door, dark milky smoke rolling in.

"We need to evacuate you!" his assistant said once again, rushing to him and getting him up.

"Lando!" said another voice that marched in with the same intention. "How come you're still here, we need to move out!"

"What the fuck is happening outside?" confused Lando asked, not really used to people storming into his room right before the race. His eyes flashed between the two assistants, both out of breath because they were probably not used to running.

"Em, fire...down at the staircase, so we gotta go that way," one of them said, gesturing somewhere towards his left.

"Wait, so near the canteen?" Lando asked. Shit, that was where he left Y/N. Oh god. Both of them nodded, trying to gesture him to move outside, which he did not.

"Has anyone seen my girlfriend?" he continued with the questions firmly.

"Um, Y/N?" one of the assistants asked, not expecting this question.

"Yes, who else?" Lando responded impatiently, panic growing in.

"I don't know, I never want to assume anything..."started rambling the one who marched in first.

Lando couldn't help but roll his eyes, where we all the competent people when he needed them? Once again, these two were gesturing him to start evacuating.

"I need to call her first," he said, taking his phone out and dialing her number. It was a very bizarre scenery to watch, the three of them just standing there while everyone was rushing around.

One, two, three, four very long dials. Two pairs of eyes shooting arrows at Lando, who stood firmly, hoping she'll pick up. Nothing. Was that actual panic he was starting to feel?

"Ok, I gotta go check out the canteen and find her, you two can go and tell everyone I'm ok," he said and brushed past them and went to the hallway.

He overhead someone trying to give orders, but based on the scene ahead of him, people rushing back and forth without clear direction, nobody seemed to pay that much attention. "Please, make your orderly exit, follow the signs, this is not a drill, this is not a drill. Breathe through your nose."

The driver was making his way through flocks of people going the other direction while the smoke and acrid smell grew on intensity that even Lando, with his cough and blocked nose, could actually smell it. He managed to avoid everyone, leaving the two poor assistants who came to search for him behind, until he bumped into another rushing person most likely giving him a black eye.

"Ouch! Lando! Everyone is looking for you, we gotta evacuate," stated the another new member of the team, who Lando vaguely recalled as Rick, while he held his puffing eye. And finally, fire alarm started to produce its signature deafening sound.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he apologized loudly, not wanting to cause more trouble, which was failing quite miserably. "I know, you're all looking for me, but is anyone looking for Y/N?" Lando asked, his priorities being very clear.

Rick was slightly confused, trying to recall if she had already evacuated or not.

"Did you see her going outside?" Lando demanded answers from anyone present and poor Rick was on the frontline.

"I don't know, I was over there-" he pointed to a room, where Y/N would definitely not be - the men's room.

"Fuckin' shit," Lando cursed and left Rick standing and marched over to where the smoke was coming from, trying to remember to breathe through his nose.

It was the first time she visited him in the paddock, which was already stressful enough, as he imagined. This was his home, he knew every corner and secret this place held - but she didn't! And also - he was Lando Norris, people would go out and search for him, but it was his job to make sure that his girlfriend is ok. And he was doing a very shit job at that, at least in his mind. Actual firefighters started to appear at the scene and finally the evacuation started to resemble orderly departure, rather than an obscure rave. He finally arrived near to the canteen when he got stopped by one of the firemen.

"Sir, you have to leave now, the other way!" he ordered, not interested in anyone's bullshit.

"I know, I just gotta check my girlfriend is not there, nobody is looking for her-"

"We are looking for everyone and you are making our job harder, please evacuate and let us work."

Lando was starting to understand that his actions might be creating more chaos than good, so he nodded and turned around, only to see the entourage of three assistant walking towards him, trying to get through the firefighters.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," he shouted and gestured them to turn around, which they only did once they saw his actually going the right way and following evacuation orders.

The strange quartet finally rolled outside, three of them finally being able to relax as they got the driver out, while he was on the verge of losing it. Frantically started looking around, losing his cool again. Only once he stepped outside to the hot Spanish June afternoon, he noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes, the asphalt giving him a lot of information about the potential track temperature. Hot.

He didn't care. He had to find her, otherwise he was going back in and this time nobody would stop him.

Not her, not her, not her - wait, that was her! Standing safely far away from curious crowd that observed the scene and chatting it out, was Y/N and Oscar. Safe and sound, maybe a little too relaxed given the situation. Lando rushed to her, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Hey...I called you," he said, his own athleticism saving him from being unable to breathe.

She smiled when she saw him, like she always did. Innocent eyes and lush lips creating and angel-like picture. "Oh, did you? Sorry, I couldn't hear, there was so much noise everywhere," she said and gave him a little peck on his cheek before turning her attention to the McLaren building.

Lando was trying to look cool, not saying anything and tried to process his own reaction, maybe potentially overreaction - something, he'd never admit.

"We are recreating the scene from The Office," Oscar said, as if there weren't people around them running in panic. Lando just stared at him and his girlfriend, both standing in pure calmness and doing what could only be described as "vibing it out".

"I'm sorry?" he replied, not yet tuned into their wave-lenght.

"We were playing Desert Island while everyone was evacuating themselves," Oscar explained to Lando. Y/N laughed, but decided to change the topic when she saw how clueless her boyfriend looked.

"Never thought I'd date a millennial," she said out of the blue.

Lando was once again not comprehending, still coming down from his shock. "What?"

She giggled. "Look at your socks man. So low one would think it's 2014 again."

"Good year," Oscar said, sounding like he was 80 years old.

Only then Lando looked down now to truly fathom that he forgot to put his shoes on. He had to chuckle. He was used to adrenaline highs and lows, but apparently not as much as he though so.

"You ok?" Y/N asked, starting to become concerned when Lando did not follow up on their joke. She examined him and noticed the drops of stress sweat, his uneven breathing and eyes wide as the sun.

There was not much of a hesitation before he uttered the next sentence.

"I love you," he stated, no regrets or uncertainty. This was the first time either of them said this sentence. They were sort of tip toying around for few weeks now, but both of them feared it would freak the other one out. Not anymore, Lando had to get it out at that moment and nothing would stop him.

Now it was Y/N who was completely taken back, not expecting that. Funny how a fire did nothing to her reactions and this had her nearly melting. Melting with shock. No, it did not make sense to her either.

Lando was standing there, not expecting or demanding a reaction from her. He was coming to terms with his own realization, and stood there as proudly as someone who's not wearing any shoes can.

"Yes, it is true. I love you. You don't have to say anything, but I am more than sure now."

She bit her lower lip, unable to contain herself. "No, I want to say something. I love you too, more every day. So much it's getting scary."

Lando smiled, ear to ear, the events of the day passing him by. This was what mattered.

"This is so cool," Lando replied and went to kiss her on the cheek.

"Cool? That's your reaction?" she gasped, astonished and slightly amused.

"Yes, exactly that," he smiled once again, smitten over the moon.

The three of them stood there, Y/N and Lando watching each other, Oscar trying not to listen at first and observing the fire situation with new found interest. But it was nearly impossible.

"This is all very cute, but if you don't stop and leave this for when you're alone, I'm going to personally throw myself into the fire," he stated, teasing the fuck out of Lando.

"Have fun burning, mate!" Lando replied immediately and pulled Y/N into an unhinged hug.

Y/N never felt better in someone's embrace. "I love someone who's not even wearing shoes outside," she proclaimed after a moment. "Thank god mom's not here."

Lando Norris (driver 4) obeyed the evacuation procedure, followed directions and cooperated at full capacity. Due to the nature of the situation, the team decided to pull Lando out of the premise as quickly as possible, which resulted in him evacuating barefoot. No injury detected.

After several drafts, this was what Rick decided to go with, while icing his black eye.

789 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 days

Text

WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you.

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him.

His head snaps in your direction.

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter.

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering.

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem.

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs.

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state.

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child.

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut.

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep.

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city.

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go.

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder.

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him.

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t.

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs.

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath.

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life.

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer. You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you.

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind.

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye.

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV.

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

982 notes · View notes

makeitmingi · 3 days

Text

Let The Heart Love Again

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader (y/n)

Characters: DanceTeacher!Reader, SingleDad!Wooyoung, Daughter!Yoonseo

Summary: When Wooyoung's daughter expressed interest in sharing his passion for dance, he immediately signed her up for the next class. However, he didn't think that he would be star struck by his daughter's teacher. Maybe, just maybe, he was ready to open his heart again.

[A/N: Thank you to my girls @songmingisthighs and @luvt0kki for being such great supporters and cheering me on <3 This story is centered around Wooyoung and Yoonseo (mostly Wooyoung and his internal feelings), slowly inviting (y/n) in.]

Word count: 10k

Wooyoung was always known as one of the better dancers in the group with his seductiveness and sharp lines. Especially after he got the chance to be Artist of the Month and perform his dance piece live with BB Trippin.

"Appa! Appa!" He emerged from the kitchen when he heard his daughter, Yoonseo, call for him.

"Oh, Yoonseo ah. You're home. How was your day?" He dried his hands on the towel hanging on his apron and went to the daughter, wrapping his arms around her.

"Good." She grinned, throwing her arms around his neck.

"I'm starving!" San declared, making Wooyoung slap his arm for yelling when the front door was still open.

"Thanks for bringing her out." Wooyoung smiled. San shook his head with a smile. He never found it a chore to help Wooyoung look after his daughter.

"No need to thank. We both had fun." San chuckled, ruffling Yoonseo's hair.

"Dinner will be done soon. Go wash your hands and face then we can sit down to eat." Wooyoung kissed his daughter's cheek and patted her back. San lifted Yoonseo up and she squealed with laughter as San brought her to the bathroom to wash up. Wooyoung laughed and shook his head at them.

"Don't make a mess in the bathroom and leave the ground wet again!" Wooyoung called out, remembering how the two were splashing water at each other the last time.

"She started it!" San complained. Wooyoung sighed and dished up what he cooked.

"You're helping me wipe the floor later." Wooyoung said, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

"Let's go, gongju nim." San lifted Yoonseo onto her boosted seat. Wooyoung placed her rice bowl in front of her, another in front of San and went to get his own.

"I want jelly." Yoonseo declared.

"Later, baby. Have dinner first." Wooyoung stroked her cheek as he sat down next to her.

"No... I want it now~ Jelly first." Yoonseo whined, frowning and even pushing her rice bowl away from her. Wooyoung sighed and placed his chopsticks down, one thing he was still trying to master as a parent was disciplining Yoonseo.

"Gongju nim, we should have dinner first. Appa cooked all this delicious food for you." San stepped in, sensing Wooyoung's internal struggle. Yoonseo pouted.

"No pouting. I promise you can have a jelly later, alright?" Wooyoung told her, gently holding her chin to make her look at him.

"Promise?" She held her pinky up.

"Promise." Wooyoung nodded and laced pinkies with her.

When it came to Yoonseo's tantrums, Wooyoung always tried to speak as calmly as he could. He was afraid of letting his stress and own emotions get to him.

It happened before. He unintentionally yelled at Yoonseo when she was throwing a tantrum, startling her. It ended with the both of them in tears while Wooyoung was apologising profusely to her.

"Thank you for the food." Yoonseo said before eating a spoonful of rice. Thankfully, Yoonseo was a good eater and not picky.

"Good girl." Wooyoung patted her head and San smiled proudly at her, already starting his dinner. Wooyoung would eat his food then cut up some food to give to Yoonseo. Having cooked for her since she was born, he already knew what she liked. And like her dad and Ateez uncles, she likes beef and noodles.

"Is it good?" San asked and Yoonseo nodded happily. Wooyoung cut up more beef into cubes and put it on her rice bowl, making sure she had plenty of white kimchi.

"Baby, soon you'll be able to eat regular kimchi like uncle Sannie." Wooyoung smiled.

"Spicy." She pouted.

"We can ask halmeoni to make it a little spicy. But it's perfectly okay to just eat white kimchi too." Wooyoung chuckled. All the kimchi in his house was made by his mother.

"Eat your carrots, baby." Wooyoung said, noticing Yoonseo not eating the carrots in her japchae.

"You usually like carrots." He tilted his head, using his chopsticks to put the small strip of carrot that she pushed away onto her spoon.

"Uncle Sannie doesn't eat carrots." She pointed out. Wooyoung looked up, raising an eyebrow at San, who was picking the carrots out of the japchae too. San froze in his spot, staring pleadingly at Wooyoung, silently begging to not eat it.

"Fine." He muttered under his breath, eating the carrot and making fake happy noises.

"It's so good! I love carrots!" San strained. Seeing that, Yoonseo copied and ate the carrot too.

"You need to stop learning the bad habits from your uncles." Wooyoung scoffed. Mingi and Hongjoong didn't like vegetables too but Wooyoung forced them to eat it around Yoonseo.

"More." Yoonseo held her empty soup bowl.

"I don't hear a magic word?" Wooyoung raised his eyebrows.

"Please?" She said in her cute voice. Wooyoung smiled immediately and stood up to get her more soup. After scooping her more, he placed it down in front of her.

"Thank you, appa." She grinned.

"You're welcome, baby." Wooyoung cooed and went back to eating. One of the things Wooyoung swore to do was to raise Yoonseo right. While she could be whatever she wanted, Wooyoung wanted to raise her to be polite, kind, caring and respectful. He made sure she had manners with whoever was around her.

Especially since he was known as one of the ATEEZ members that would call juniors out for their lack of respect towards seniors. Even when Yoonseo couldn't talk yet, he taught her to bow to elders.

"Uncle Sannie, can we show appa the pretty clothes later?" Yoonseo sat with with a beam and a sparkle in her eye. San laughed and nodded his head.

"Of course. You can show him all the dresses you chose on your own." San said.

"You picked them all by yourself?" Wooyoung feigned surprise. Yoonseo nodded proudly.

"That's great, baby. I can't wait for you to show me later." He stroked her hair. Hearing that, Yoonseo let out an excited squeal, even kicking her legs.

"Done. Thank you for cooking, appa." Yoonseo balanced herself on the table to give her dad a peck on the cheek.

"I'm glad you ate a lot." Wooyoung said, happy that Yoonseo cleared her bowl. He brought her dishes to the sink first while he and San finished up their meal. Yoonseo was colouring in the living room, waiting for them to finish.

"Did she forget about the jelly?" San leaned over to whisper to Wooyoung, the two of them looking over at the girl who was busy colouring her Pooh Bear book.

"I think so... But I'll still give it to her. A promise is a promise, whether she remembers it or not." Wooyoung shrugged.

"You're such a good dad. I would have just not reminded her." San giggled.

"Other things maybe but a small jelly? I'd rather not hang on to that guilt. She was pretty upset." Wooyoung chuckled. When they were done, San insisted on helping Wooyoung with the dishes.

"Baby, did you forget about the jelly I promised you?" Wooyoung called from the kitchen.

"Oh!" The pattering of her feet against the floor was heard before she appeared right by Wooyoung's leg.

"Here we go. You can choose which one." He lifted her up so she could see the bag of jelly cups in the fridge. She took her time, jutting her lips out with a small frown on her face as she decided which flavour she wanted, as if this was the last jelly cup she was going to have forever. Wooyoung found her adorable.

"I want strawberry. Grape for Uncle Sannie and apple for appa." She grinned, holding Wooyoung's, San's and her own jelly cups to her chest protectively.

"My baby is so kind." Wooyoung smothered her in kisses before putting her down.

"Why don't you give this to Uncle Sannie and I'll open your jelly cup for you?" Wooyoung suggested. She nodded and ran to San.

"Uncle Sannie, for you!" She tiptoed as she held the jelly cup out to San. San turned to see her and quickly wiped his hands. Wooyoung took a picture of the two of them.

"Thank you, gongju nim." San smiled softly, patting her head.

"Appa, I did it!" She giggled as she ran back to Wooyoung. He held out the opened jelly cup to her.

While Yoonseo enjoyed her jelly cup, she sat with Wooyoung in the living room. She casually just sat in her father's lap, the two of them enjoying each other's company, not needing to have the television on or multiple toys around.

"You two are such father-daughter goals." San laughed as he walked over, his phone in his hand to record the two of them. Wooyoung scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't even make sense, San ah." Wooyoung called out.

"Gongju nim, are you ready to show appa what we bought today?" San crouched down. Yoonseo's nodded excitedly.

"Appa, sit here!" Yoonseo patted the couch. Wooyoung saluted and sat on the couch while Yoonseo grabbed San's hand and dragged him to the room.

"Close your eyes, appa!" Yoonseo yelled from the room. His daughter could be so dramatic, he doesn't know where she gets it from.

"My eyes are closed!" He replied, covering his eyes with his hands. He could hear her excited running.

"Don't run, baby. You might trip and fall." He cautioned.

"Open your eyes!" She giggled, her voice a lot closer, telling Wooyoung she was right in front of him. When Wooyoung opened his eyes, he saw her in a cute white linen dress with strawberries all over. Wooyoung's eyes practically sparkled like his daughter's did. To him, Yoonseo looked good in everything.

"You're so pretty, baby!" Wooyoung cooed. Yoonseo shyly giggled, fiddling with her fingers as she twirled for him. San came out of the room, clapping his hands.

"This is my favourite." He sat down.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you say that for all the outfits." Wooyoung scoffed. San nodded in agreement, he was a fool for Yoonseo too.

One by one, San helped Yoonseo change into the clothes that he bought her to show off to Wooyoung. Yoonseo was basking in all the compliments from her dad and uncle.

"Last one." Yoonseo ran out. Wooyoung melted, seeing Yoonseo in a ballerina outfit.

"Ask him." San leaned over to whisper encouragement to Yoonseo. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, having heard that.

"Appa, can I do ballet?... Please?" She added the magic word at the end, not wanting to be reminded again for forgetting. Wooyoung got down from the couch, coming over to his daughter and holding her hands in his own.

"You wanna learn ballet?" He asked.

"I want to dance. Be cool like you!" She grinned, swaying her body, making the chiffon ballet skirt move too.

"You're already cool, baby. You don't need dance to be cool. But if you really want to try ballet, let's do it." Wooyoung smiled, tucking her stray hairs behind her ears.

"Yay! Thank you, appa!" She threw herself into Wooyoung's arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck.

"You're welcome. But are you sure you want to learn ballet? Not other types of dance." Wooyoung checked. Yoonseo nodded her head.

"Okay, we can start with ballet. Also, did you thank uncle Sannie for buying you all these clothes?" He pulled away to look at her. Both her and San nodded.

"That's my girl." Wooyoung smiled, stroking her hair.

That night, Wooyoung stayed by Yoonseo side a little longer, having read her a story to help her fall asleep. He couldn't help but stare at her and smile fondly at how she has grown. It wasn't easy raising a newborn on his own. He had help from Ateez and his parents but he still did a lot on his own.

Yoonseo's mother thought that having a daughter with Wooyoung would make Wooyoung quit being an idol.

When it didn't happen as intended, she left Wooyoung and Yoonseo before Yoonseo could even be discharged from the hospital. She wanted nothing to do with both of them.

Wooyoung begged her to stay, not for him. She didn't need to love him anymore. He wanted her to be there for Yoonseo.

But she refused and left. The nights Yoonseo would cry for hours and couldn't be consoled, Wooyoung silently cried along with her.

He felt so much guilt towards Yoonseo for lacking and being unprepared as a parent raising a baby. Furthermore, he had to juggle his idol life and being a present father to her.

The last thing Wooyoung wanted to do was be absent. Yoonseo's mother already abandoned her, he wasn't going to do the same. He was going to make sure that he was there for Yoonseo when she needed him. She became his priority.

It was hard and he knows it will continue to be but he'll continue to learn. And one thing's for sure, he'll never regret having Yoonseo in his life.

"Oh my gosh!"

"What happened?" Wooyoung ran out of the recording booth when he heard Mingi exclaimed loudly.

"Yoonseo just flipped on her own!" Yunho explained. Wooyoung's eyes brightened as he bent down to scoop Yoonseo up into his arms, showering her in kisses.

"There's my smart girl. You flipped on your own?" Wooyoung asked her, even if she couldn't reply.

"Put her back down!" Yeosang urged. Wooyoung rolled his eyes and put Yoonseo back down on the mat, laying her on her back. Having just learnt how to flip onto her stomach, she was obviously having fun with this new skill.

"Show appa how you flip!" Wooyoung clapped. Yoonseo grunted a little, struggling to lay on her side. She then rolled onto her stomach, letting out little happy babbles.

"My baby!" Wooyoung cheered.

"Man, I love tummy time." Jongho said, recording the whole thing. However, Wooyoung's cheer was apparently too loud, startling poor Yoonseo, making her burst into tears and wails.

"Aww, shh, shh. It's okay, darling. It's just your loud appa." San lifted Yoonseo into his arms, comforting the crying baby.

Her first steps took place in Hongjoong's studio. Until now, Hongjoong still claims that he was the 'chosen one', whatever that means.

"See? She likes me better." Hongjoong said, holding Yoonseo in his arms in a forward facing seated position.

"Just don't drop her please." Seonghwa shook his head, he didn't like that Yoonseo was in the recording booth. There were wires every where, Hongjoong could trip and fall with Yoonseo in his arms.

But as Hongjoong rapped into the mic, Yoonseo stared up at him with wide eyes, not scared or startled by Hongjoong's seemingly loud and/or powerful rap. Wooyoung laughed, taking his phone out to capture the moment of Hongjoong rapping but looking down to meet Yoonseo's gaze.

"First, you're taking your first steps here. Now, you're in here, recording with me. You like me the best right?" Hongjoong chuckled.

"Not true!" San yelled from behind.

Wooyoung felt like he had disappointed Hongjoong the most when the news of Yoonseo's conception came about but he was relieved to see the captain playing with her and helping to take care of her.

Now, they're inseparable.

That was Yoonseo's charm. Not just her natural charm but the personality that Wooyoung cultivated by teaching her manners and kindness.

"I love you." Kissing her forehead, Wooyoung left Yoonseo's room.

After Yoonseo's mother left, Wooyoung never trusted anyone new again. It was how he guarded and protected himself and Yoonseo. He wasn't going to let anyone abandon Yoonseo again.

"Are you that excited, baby?" Wooyoung chuckled, seeing Yoonseo jump up and down while giggling, still holding Wooyoung's hand as they walked down the hall of the dance studio.

Prior to this, Wooyoung did extensive research on what dance studio was recommended for kids, reading through tons of reviews and asking friends for recommendations. This studio was well reviewed and parents seemed to like the teachers.

"Hang on, baby. Before you go in, I want to talk to you." Wooyoung squatted down to be on eye level with Yoonseo.

"I'm going to be late." Yoonseo pouted.

"It's alright, baby. I just wanted to tell you, it's okay to not be the best from the start, alright? You'll learn and practice." He held her hands but Wooyoung wasn't even sure she was listening.

"Okay." She nodded.

"Jung Yoonseo, you're not even listening to me." Wooyoung scoffed, tapping her on the nose. But he knew she was just excited.

When they knocked, there was a small reply before the glass door opened. You stood there with a soft smile on your face. Wooyoung hadn't even realised he was staring.

"You must be our new friend, Yoonseo. Oh wow, your skirt is so pretty." You bent down with a kind smile. Only when you spoke, did Wooyoung break out of his trance. Yoonseo shyly giggled at your compliment, fiddling with her skirt. When you held your hand out to Yoonseo, she gladly let go of Wooyoung.

"Let's sit here and do some stretches." You sat Yoonseo down with the other students in class before walking back to Wooyoung.

"Don't worry, Mr Jung. She's in good hands." You assured, assuming he was still standing there because he was worried about Yoonseo. But honestly, he was still stunned by you.

"T-Thanks. And call me Wooyoung, Mr Jung is my dad." He smiled with a chuckle. You giggled and nodded your head.

"We'll see you after class." You bowed respectfully to him and closed the glass door.

"Jung Wooyoung, what was that?" He scolded himself softly. He peeked through the viewable gap on the glass door.

"Let's all say hello to our new friend, Yoonseo. How do we greet everyone?" You asked the class, clapping your hands as you stood on your knees beside Yoonseo.

"Hello." The other girls in the class curtsied like ballerinas would.

"Let me help you, Yoonseo. First, we're going to open our arms up, point our foot to the side. This is the starting position." You gently and patiently adjusted Yoonseo's feet, arms and posture to teach her how to curtsy.

"My name is Yoonseo." Yoonseo shyly curtsied while introducing herself to the rest of the class. She looked at you with uncertainty but you smiled at her, encouraging her.

"That was great, all of you." You clapped for everyone in class. Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung left the dance studio.

"You dropped Yoonseo off for her first day at dance?" Yeosang asked as Wooyoung entered the KQ studio.

"Yoonseo's learning dance?" Jongho's eyes sparkled.

"Yeah. She wanted to learn ballet and luckily there's a really well reviewed studio near here so why not? You guys would faint over how cute she looks in her ballet outfit." Wooyoung smiled.

"Awww, look at the little princess." Yunho cooed when Wooyoung showed them the picture.

"Then she got annoyed with me taking so many pictures, saying I was making her late." Wooyoung slid to show Yoonseo's frowning, pouty face.

"Guess she learnt to be impatient from someone..." All 7 boys turned to the captain, who blinked in confusion then realised they were talking about him and frowned at them. Hongjoong was the one that always had to yell at the boys and rush them because they were running late. He had to, he was the captain.

"I'm not impatient. You guys just have no respect for punctuality." Hongjoong scoffed.

"Okay, okay. Let's start practice before we have our other schedules." Seonghwa rounded everyone up before Hongjoong could start lecturing them on punctuality.

"Oh! Yoonseo's ending soon." Wooyoung sat up after seeing the time.

"We should go pick her together." Mingi suggested and everyone nodded excitedly.

"W-Wait, maybe we shouldn't. It may overwhelm the other kids there and stuff. It's her first day there, I don't want her to be awkward around her friends." Wooyoung said.

"You're acting weird..."

"Is the dance teacher cute or something?" San raised his eyebrow.

"No! I didn't even notice her... I just don't want Yoonseo to be nervous or uncomfortable, okay?" Wooyoung said a little too defensively, making the boys look at each other knowingly. In the end, Yeosang volunteered to go with Wooyoung, who reluctantly agreed.

"This is the studio." Wooyoung said as he and Yeosang walked down the different dance studios. There were other parents there, waiting for the class to be over.

"Oh, she is pretty..." Yeosang tilted his head, peeking into the class. Wooyoung slapped his arm.

"There are other people here. Don't make comments like that." Wooyoung hissed, bowing to the other parents respectfully.

"Can you see Yoonseo?" Wooyoung asked.

"Yeah, she's so cute." Yeosang chuckled. He moved aside to let Wooyoung see. Yoonseo was giggling as she ran around the room with the other children.

"Arms up and down, pretty like a butterfly!" You encouraged, running alongside the children.

"Alright. I'll see all of you next week. Let's say goodbye and line up." You said at the end of the class. You stood at the front of the dance studio, before the mirror to curtsy to the class. The girls did the same to you, thanking you. They lined up obediently as you walked to the door to open it.

"Oh!" You and Wooyoung jumped as you opened the door, coming face to face with him. He apologised, rubbing the back of his neck while Yeosang snickered beside him.

"No, it's alright. I should have noticed you standing there." You chuckled and Wooyoung shook his head to deny it.

"Appa! Uncle Sangie!" Yoonseo beamed and waved.

"How was class, kiddo?" Yeosang bent down to talk to Yoonseo while you and Wooyoung were still flustered from earlier. You briefly broke away to say goodbye to the other kids and greet their parents.

"It was so fun!" Yoonseo jumped happily. You smiled softly, patting her head.

"She's a natural. And I mean it. Her musicality, flexibility, ability to comprehend the steps." You said to Wooyoung.

"That's good. She must have her dad's dance genes then. Wooyoung here is one of the best dancers in our team." Yeosang cut in. Your eyebrows raised in interest.

"I'm sorry I don't really listen to a lot of kpop but Yoonseo, here, tells me that you're in a group. I assume you are in the same group too?" You respectfully gestured to Yeosang with two hands. Yeosang nodded in confirmation.

"Sorry about him. We should go, come on baby. Say goodbye to Miss..." Wooyoung blinked, realising he didn't ask your name.

"(y/n)! Her name is Miss (y/n), appa!" Yoonseo informed enthusiastically. Wooyoung nodded stiffly. Suddenly, he found himself finding your name so adorable.

"I'm Yeosang." Yeosang waved, making you laugh. Yoonseo hugged your legs, surprising you slightly. But you patted her back with a smile.

"See you next week, Yoonseo and Wooyoung sshi." You giggled.

"Thank you." Wooyoung bowed. Yoonseo followed suit, bowing at the waist respectfully.

"That's my girl." Wooyoung praised as Yoonseo grasped her dad's hand. You smiled at the two of them, it was the first time meeting them but you could tell they have a good relationship.

"Thanks again, (y/n) sshi." With a final wave, the 3 of them walked away. After strapping her into her car seat, Yoonseo couldn't stop rambling on about her first ballet class, telling her dad and uncle what she did. Yeosang glanced at how distracted Wooyoung was as he drove, a knowing smile on his face.

"I can't wait for next week!" And for some reason, Wooyoung found himself excited for Yoonseo's next dance class too.

Wooyoung's subconscious mind did want to do 'well' to make a good impression on you. However, the following week, he ended up calling the ballet school, stuck in a KQ meeting and late to pick up Yoonseo.

"Miss (y/n), Yoonseo's dad just called the front desk, saying he'll be a little late." The receptionist told you.

"No worries, I'll watch out for her." You smiled before she could even request or suggest. Yoonseo was a great kid, you didn't mind.

"Yoonseo ah, your appa will be a little late. Wanna stick with me for a bit?" You chuckled as you poked your head into the dancer's den where the students changed, kept their belongings and prepared for dance. She nodded excitedly.

"Do you know your appa's phone number?" You asked, bending down in front of her. She shook her head.

"That's okay. I'll ask. Come on." You held your hand out for her to hold as you walked to the front desk to get Wooyoung's number.

'Hello, Wooyoung sshi! This is (y/n), I hope you don't mind that I got your number from the front desk. I wanted to let you know that Yoonseo will be with me. - (y/n)'

'Oh! (y/n) sshi, thank you so much. I'm so sorry to trouble you, I'm trying to get out as soon as I can. - Wooyoung'

'No worries, I love having Yoonseo around. If it's okay with you, can we go out for some ice cream? - (y/n)'

'Of course! - Wooyoung'

"Shall we go get some ice cream? Your appa said okay." You asked. Yoonseo cheered and jumped happily. After you got changed and packed, you took her to the ice cream parlour nearby.

"Alright, you can pick what you want." Wrapping your arms around her, you lifted her up to the glass so she could see what flavours there were. Yoonseo chose cookies and cream while you chose raspberry white chocolate. The worker scooped Yoonseo's into a cup and came out to hand it to her.

"Thank you." Yoonseo said politely, receiving the cup with both hands. You smiled at her and paid for both your ice creams.

"Thank you, Miss (y/n)." Yoonseo turned to you as you both headed to a table to sit.

"You're very welcome, Yoonseo." Seeing Yoonseo at eye level with the table, you lifted her up to sit in your lap. She leaned slightly against your arm, comfortably eating her ice cream.

"Appa is always busy during comeback." Yoonseo told you.

"Does that mean you're usually with your omma then?" You asked back. Yoonseo shook her head.

"I don't have an omma. I only have appa." She replied. You didn't realise how possibly insensitive you were, assuming that Yoonseo had a mother.

"And that's okay." You smiled softly, stroking her hair.

While eating your ice cream, you learnt a lot about Yoonseo, how she was raised by her dad and 7 uncles, whom you assume are the other ATEEZ members that you googled about. Wooyoung's effort paid off because he raised a great kid.

RING RING

"Hello? Wooyoung sshi?" You answered the call. Yoonseo perked up when she heard you address her dad.

"Hey, (y/n) sshi. I know I already asked a lot of you but is it okay for you to bring Yoonseo to my company? I should be ending soon. I don't want to take too much of your time."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. But I'll bring her over." You told him.

"Thank you so much! I'll let the front security know you're coming. Just go to the 5th floor."

After getting rid of your empty ice cream cups, you and Yoonseo headed over to KQ. Like what Wooyoung said, the security at the front let you in after asking your name and recognising Yoonseo.

"Do you come here often?" You asked Yoonseo.

"Yeah. Appa comes here to work and dance. Uncles too." She replied. You nodded with a hum, you've never been into an entertainment company before. Since Yoonseo seemed familiar, you let her lead the way. There was a door labelled 'Artist Lounge' that she entered. However, it was empty, only tables and chairs around.

"I wait for appa here." She informed, climbing onto the loveseat with familiarity. You sat beside her, not feeling comfortable leaving her here alone, even if she was familiar with the place.

So, you stayed with her.

"Oh my god, I have to go." Wooyoung shot out of his seat the moment the meeting concluded. They were discussing their next comeback.

"Everything okay?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yoonseo." Was all Wooyoung said. Not offering much else, the boys thought something happened to their niece and rushed alongside Wooyoung to the artist lounge.

However, Wooyoung froze, making the 7 of them crash into him like an animated cartoon. Wooyoung saw you sitting on the loveseat with Yoonseo in your lap, her front leaning against yours as you held her while the both of you slept.

"What the... Who is that?" Seonghwa whispered.

"That's Yoonseo's dance teacher. Woo's new crush." Yeosang replied. At Yeosang's words, Wooyoung broke out of his trance.

"She is not my crush. She's not." Wooyoung frowned defensively, directing the last part at Hongjoong, who stared back at Wooyoung with raised eyebrows.

"She is pretty though." Yunho smiled. Wooyoung felt oddly protective at his friend's words.

"Yoonseo~ (y/n) sshi~" You jumped a little when Wooyoung lightly shook you and Yoonseo. You blinked, realising where you were.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry." You apologised, realising Yoonseo was still asleep in your lap. Then you saw Yeosang and the other Ateez members standing behind him, looking on.

"Mmm..." Yoonseo groaned, rubbing her face against your chest.

"Yoonseo, come on." San stepped forward to lift Yoonseo up. Yoonseo comfortably leaned into her uncle's arms, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. You stood up and bowed deeply to the others, feeling your cheeks heat up. You didn't think you would be meeting an idol group, dressed in sweats.

"I'm so sorry." You apologised, bowing repeatedly.

"No need to apologise. Thank you for taking care of Yoonseo and staying with her. Sorry for taking so long." Wooyoung shook his head and you smiled sheepishly.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yunho. You're Yoonseo's ballet teacher?" The tall male held his hand out for you to shake.

"Hello. I'm (y/n), it's a pleasure to meet all of you. Yes, I teach ballet. You're the main dancer in the group right?" You asked with a laugh.

"Yeah! How did you know?"

"When Yoonseo told me her dad and uncles are kpop idols, I went to search online. She said you're all really great dancers." You smiled, looking at the sleeping girl.

"(y/n) sshi, it's late. Let me drop you back home?" Wooyoung cut in, offering you a ride home. Before you could open your mouth to refuse.

"Please, I insist. You stayed so late with Yoonseo, it's the least I could do, make sure you get home safe." He cut you off. You closed your mouth and nodded. Wooyoung reached over to carry Yoonseo in his arms while you helped to carry her dance bag.

"Thank you, Wooyoung sshi. It was nice meeting all of you. Have a great night." You bowed to the Ateez members and left with Wooyoung. The members all waved to you as you exited.

"By the way, I went back to watch Ateez videos. You're a really good contemporary hip hop dancer." You complimented.

"Ah, I'm shy. You're so much better with how difficult ballet is." Wooyoung coughed.

"No, your artist of the month dance was amazing. Yoonseo definitely had your dance genes." You giggled.

"Thank you. I'm glad she wanted to start with ballet for the foundation. Maybe she'll progress to other genres." Wooyoung shrugged. He dreams of performing with Yoonseo one day.

"Whatever she chooses, I know she has a great teacher to guide her." You looked at him, making him all flustered.

"Anyway, I hope she wasn't too much trouble. Thanks again for looking after her." Wooyoung chuckled, changing the subject. You opened the car door for him to strap a half aleep Yoonseo into her booster seat and fastening the seat belt.

"Not at all, Wooyoung sshi. Yoonseo's a great little girl, very kind and courteous. You've raised her well." You giggled.

"... I'm guessing she told you that her mom isn't in the picture then..." Wooyoung said after a short pause, seemingly uncertain of what to say. You hummed and nodded your head.

"I'm sorry, it must not be easy." You said.

"Oh, you thought- No, she's alive... I think? She left right after Yoonseo was born." Wooyoung corrected.

"Ah, I guess I shouldn't have assumed... But you know, maybe it's for the better. Rather than have a parent that feels forced to stay... If that makes sense... Yoonseo still has a parent and uncles that love her... and want her." You said, rubbing the back of your neck. Wooyoung nodded, he knew what you meant.

"Don't worry, it does make sense. And I agree. All I want is for Yoonseo to be happy, to grow up feeling loved. As long as she is happy, I'm happy." He smiled.

"I'm sure she is. The way she talks about you and her uncles, I can tell. You've done great. My opinion doesn't matter since we just met but-"

"No, it does. It really does. Thank you for saying that, it means a lot." Wooyoung said.

"She's going to grow up to be an amazing person." You smiled softly, turning back to see the sleeping Yoonseo.

"She teaches me so much too, reminds me to enjoy the simpler things in life." He smiled. Right on time, Wooyoung's car pulled up to your apartment building.

"Thank you for the ride, Wooyoung sshi. I'll see you next week?" You bowed and unbuckled your seat belt.

"It's no problem. We'll see you next week. And please, call me Wooyoung." He said confidently and bravely, hoping to indirectly imply that you have both become friends of some sort. You weren't just his daughter's dance teacher.

"Sure but that means you call me (y/n) too. I hope I'm not overstepping but if you ever need someone to watch Yoonseo, you can always ask me." You smiled.

"Not overstepping at all. Thank you. I might just take you up on that, Yoonseo really loves your company." He chuckled.

"I love her company too. Goodnight." With a final greeting, you stepped out of Wooyoung car and headed into the building.

Watching you disappear into the building lobby, Wooyoung let out a long exhale, leaning back against the driver's seat. Many questions raced through his head.

Did he see a future with you and Yoonseo?

Furthermore, was he ready to open his heart again? Because letting you into his world would mean letting you into Yoonseo's world too.

Following that night, you didn't expect Wooyoung to text you again. But he did. It wasn't anything personal, it was Yoonseo forcing her (surprisingly inflexible) uncles to do ballet stretches with her. The pained expressions on the grown men's faces made you burst out laughing as you had a break from your ballet class.

'Poor uncles!! I hope Yoonseo goes easy on them. - (y/n)'

'If she's anything like me, she definitely will NOT go easy on them. Needless to say, she's the best in this class. And she wanted me to tell you that she reminded them to point their feet. - Wooyoung'

'As her teacher, I am proud to hear that. She has improved so much! - (y/n)'

"Who are you texting that's got you all giggly?" Your friend asked, sipping her water.

"Oh, just one of the parents from my littles class." You shrugged, playing it off as nothing special. You were hyper aware of Wooyoung's celebrity status so you were extra careful.

"A dad, I'm assuming? Is he single?" Your friend raised her eyebrows, nudging you playfully. You rolled your eyes.

"Yes, it's a dad. And I don't know why it matters but yes, he's single. Whatever you're insinuating, it's not gonna happen. He's 100% dedicated to his daughter, as he should be." You scoffed. She sent you a knowing smile.

"Give him a medal then. But don't assume anything, my dear (y/n). Anything is possible." She slung her arm around you.

"Yeah, whatever. Let's head in, I want a good barre spot." You said and headed into the studio for your dance class.

Maybe she was right. Because the conversation didn't die there. You and Wooyoung were texting almost everyday. Both of you were not dry texters and genuinely enjoyed chatting with each other.

"Baby, you can just give her the cookies after class." Wooyoung said as Yoonseo excitedly pulled him along.

"No. I want to give it to her before!" Yoonseo insisted. Yesterday, Yoonseo baked cookies and of course, she set a portion aside for her dance teacher.

"Okay, okay." Wooyoung gave in. He wasn't going to fight his daughter on this when she's been excited to give the cookies that they she worked so hard on. But (y/n) wasn't in the studio when they arrived. Wooyoung assumed she just hasn't arrived to prepare for the class yet since they did come early.

"Aww, she's not here." Yoonseo pouted.

"I think we're a little too early, baby. I'll ask the receptionist if she's here yet, okay?" Wooyoung offered, not liking to see his daughter so disappointed. Yoonseo nodded and followed him to the front.

"Excuse me, is (y/n)- I mean, Miss (y/n) here for class yet?" Wooyoung asked the lady.

"Let me check... Yes, she's here but she's in class. It'll be ending soon." The lady informed after checking the log.

"Oh, okay. Thank you." Wooyoung nodded. So you were the student in ballet classes for more advanced dancers. It should be a 'duh' moment but obviously it didn't occur to him.

"Miss (y/n) is like you, taking class with a teacher." Wooyoung informed Yoonseo.

"Oh... But she's also a teacher?" Yoonseo tilted her head.

"She's a teacher to you. But to an older teacher, she's a student." Wooyoung tried to explain it. to her. Yoonseo nodded, walking beside Wooyoung back to wait at the studio where Yoonseo usually had her classes. Until they walked past the biggest dance studio.

"Miss (y/n)!" Yoonseo pointed, now that the dance teacher had opened the door to the studio.

"Shh, Yoonseo. No shouting." Wooyoung chided but looked to where his daughter was pointing. Your hair was in a bun and you were basically wearing what Yoonseo wears as you did pointe work.

"Squeeze your ankles! Engage your core!" The instructor shouted as he clapped his hands to the melody of the music.

"And gracefully, come down. Close with arms in first position." He went around, checking.

"Psst, (y/n). I think that's one of your students." One of your friends leaned over to whisper. You blinked, turning your head to see Yoonseo and Wooyoung there.

"Oh, it is..." You gave the father and daughter a small smile. Yoonseo waved back.

"Wait, one of your kiddos is Ateez Wooyoung's daughter? And you didn't think to mention this?" Your other friend whispered harshly. You laughed and shrugged. Honestly, deep down, it was a secret that you liked to keep to yourself. Maybe you were feeling a little selfish, you had no idea.

"Class dismissed." The teacher concluded. You grabbed your bag and was about to leave when Wooyoung saw one of the males stop you. He leaned in to whisper something to you.

"Mmm, of course." You said with a laugh, nodding your head. After that, he let you go and you walked over.

"Sorry, am I late for class?" You asked Wooyoung and Yoonseo.

"N-No, we came early." Wooyoung said, snapping out of his trance. Yoonseo held a plastic pack of cookies out to you. You bent down to be on her eye level.

"For me?" You pointed to yourself. Yoonseo nodded with a proud grin.

"We made cookies yesterday! This is for you. The samchons ate everything else..." She sulked.

"Well, thank you for making sure I have some, Yoonseo." You patted her head with a giggle. Yoonseo beamed, happy to have made you happy with her cookies.

"Miss (y/n), was that your boyfriend?" Yoonseo asked as you walked with her to your class studio. Wooyoung nearly choked at his daughter's direct question but admittedly, his ears did perk up to listen to your answer.

"No, he's my dance partner. We have a performance coming up and we're doing a dance together." You explained.

"Oh." Yoonseo nodded. Wooyoung found himself subconsciously nodding too.

"I don't have a boyfriend." You said to her casually, opening the studio door for her to enter. Wooyoung stood by the door, not entering the studio.

"You can come in, Wooyoung. Just remove your shoes." You chuckled, leaning into your bag to grab some water to drink. You grabbed an overshirt to wear over your leotard and tights.

"Thank you." Wooyoung bowed as he entered. He has never felt so awkwardly, he felt like he was the kid, sticking to Yoonseo as if she was the parent, not him.

"Can I wear special shoes like you one day?" Yoonseo asked, sitting next to you as you removed your pointe shoes.

"Of course. If you work really hard, you can be an amazing ballerina." You smiled. Hearing that, Yoonseo looked up at her father with sparkling eyes. Wooyoung smiled softly, Yoonseo never really had a female figure she could look up to. And as he got to know you better, Wooyoung couldn't have asked for a better role model.

"I better go before the other students come. Have a great class, you two." Wooyoung stood up. You and Yoonseo both waved to Wooyoung as he took his leave.

He bowed to the other parents on his way out, his heart feeling fluttery after that encounter with you.

"Calm down, Jung Wooyoung." He scolded himself in the car.

Letting out a long sigh, he drove to the dorms to find Yeosang and San. Them having been friends for so long and being the closest, Wooyoung needed to speak about this with them.

"Wait, you're talking about Yoonseo's dance teacher, right?" San raised an eyebrow as he sat down.

"Mhmm." Wooyoung sighed, hugging Yeosang's pillow to his face, groaning in frustration.

"This goes without saying but are you sure you like her? In that way..." Yeosang threaded cautiously. Wooyoung took a while to reply, sitting up on the bed.

"I am in denial of whatever feelings I have for her. But I know it's something more because the last time I felt this way was with Yoonseo's mom. I can't even describe it, I'm almost scared of that feeling." He sighed.

"I'm not scared for me, I'm more scared for Yoonseo. I have to protect her, even if it means sacrificing what I want for her." He continued.

"That's where you're wrong, Woo. You are scared and it's okay to be. You have given up a lot for Yoonseo but at the same time, you didn't give yourself a chance to grieve." San stated.

"I don't need to grieve for that woman." Wooyoung scoffed.

"I think San means grieve for your relationship. At the end of the day, at some point, you saw a future with her." Yeosang said.

"A future that she didn't want." Wooyoung glared. Yeosang reached over to rub Wooyoung's back. He and San were the ones that were there the most when Yoonseo's mom left.

"It's okay to afraid, cautious, whether its for you or Yoonseo. But shouldn't close yourself in forever." San adviced.

"Don't give up on love so quickly." Yeosang smiled softly.

"A date won't hurt. If you're compatible, you're not. But you never know. And from what I see, Yoonseo does love her dance teacher a lot. I don't know her personally to judge whether she is or will be a good mother but I think she liked Yoonseo a lot too and seems to take great care of her." San said.

"She's an amazing role model to Yoonseo. And I'm not just saying that because I feel some way for her, she's great with her. And Yoonseo idolises her." Wooyoung said.

"And I know you're worried about the whole idol thing but don't assume things on her behalf. Let her honestly tell you herself."

"Okay, I'll... think about it. But Yoonseo and Ateez still come first." Wooyoung chewed on his bottom lip.

"Sure, sure." Yeosang laughed.

True to his words, Wooyoung didn't act on his feelings right away. His focus was still on Ateez schedules and Yoonseo but he did think about his feelings.

He continued to text you as per usual and you always replied happily, the both of you took turns starting the conversations.

"Appa, appa!" Yoonseo's feet padded into Wooyoung's bedroom and he watched her climb onto his bed. Wooyoung put his phone aside, blinking as he watched Yoonseo excitedly climb into his lap, his arms reaching out to support her.

"Can I help you?" Wooyoung chuckled.

"I want to go for Miss (y/n)'s concert!" Yoonseo excitedly bounced in Wooyoung's lap.

"Why do you suddenly want to go, baby? Also, is that how we ask for things around here?" He raised an eyebrow at his daughter. Yoonseo covered her mouth with her hands.

"Please? Today, Miss (y/n) wore a pretty dress! Like a princess. She said she's dancing in many many pretty dresses!" She grinned.

"No promises, baby. Let me see if I have schedule. If not, we'll buy tickets to go." Wooyoung said.

"Yay!" Yoonseo cheered. Wooyoung couldn't help but laugh, Yoonseo is generally a happy kid but he's hardly ever seen her so excited about seomthing before.

"Do you really like Miss (y/n)?" Wooyoung asked. Yoonseo nodded her head vigorously.

"Why?" Wooyoung tilted his head.

"She's pretty! And... and... she's nice! She takes care of me like you and samchons. I want to make her a lot of cookies." She listed out, tapping her chin. There was a lot more that she wanted to express to Wooyoung and he knew that, but this was the best that she could with her limited vocabulary.

"Wow, you really do like her..." Wooyoung said with amusement. Yoonseo nodded in confirmation, shyly leaning down onto her father's chest.

"But I love appa most!" She added.

"I'm happy to hear that, baby." He chuckled and stroked her hair, kissing the crown of her head.

"What about you, appa? Do you like Miss (y/n)?" Yoonseo blinked innocently. Wooyoung opened his mouth but closed it, unsure of what he 'should' be answering. Instead, he shrugged.

After that, Wooyoung broke his own rule and let Yoonseo sleep in his bed with him. He just wanted her close.

"I'll always protect you." He whispered.

"Umm, excuse me. I was wondering if there are still tickets for the senior company showcase?" Wooyoung hesitantly asked the receptionist of the ballet school.

"Wooyoung?" You entered the school, seeing the father and daughter there. Yoonseo squealed and hugged your legs.

"Hello, Yoonseo. It's nice to see you too." You giggled and bent down to her height so you could hug her back. Even after you stood back up, Yoonseo still glued herself to you. You put your hand on her back, holding her.

"We're hoping it's not too late to buy tickets to the senior showcase. Princess, here, wants to go." Wooyoung explained. You looked down at Yoonseo, who grinned back at you.

"Oh... Y-You both wanna come for the showcase?" You asked.

"Yes! To watch Miss (y/n)!" Yoonseo cheered. You looked to Wooyoung, who nodded in confirmation.

"You don't have to buy tickets. I have two free tickets, you can take them." You chuckled, nodding over to the hallway for you and Wooyoung to walk towards the studio.

"No way, I can't take them for free. You should save them for your family or something." Wooyoung shook his head.

"If I had people to give it to, I would have. My parents are out of town, as usual. So who better to give the tickets to? Rather than let them go to waste." You explained. Yoonseo looked to you then her dad.

"Plus I think they're actually sold out." You added with a laugh.

"Well, I guess there's no other option. Alright then, we'll take them. Thanks." Wooyoung rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thank you for coming to support us. I have the tickets in my locker, I'll give them to you at the end of class?" You asked. Wooyoung nodded with a hum. He would have corrected that he and Yoonseo were going to support you, not the entire senior company. They were solely going to watch you.

After class, Wooyoung didn't come to pick Yoonseo up alone. Yunho and San wanted to tag along. They stayed back until almost all the children and their parents were gone.

"Samchon!" Yoonseo excitedly ran to her uncles.

"Oh, hello." You bowed to San and Yunho. They waved before bowing back with kind smiles.

"Here are your tickets, Wooyoung. Thanks again." You handed the envelop to Wooyoung with two hands. Yunho and San leaned over to peek at it.

"What are the tickets for?" San asked.

"We're going to watch Miss (y/n) dance!" Yoonseo informed. You laughed and nodded your head.

"Are we invited too?" Yunho tilted his head. You were stunned by his question while Wooyoung's eyes widened before he punched the taller male's arm.

"No, none of you are going except me and Yoonseo." He glared.

"I'm sorry, Yunho sshi. I only have 2 free tickets and the rest are sold out... But I do appreciate you wanting to support the senior company. If there are future showcases and performances, I'll definitely let you know." You bowed in apology.

"I look forward to that." Yunho winked, making you choke slightly and look away shyly.

"Tsk, stop that. And don't apologise to him." Wooyoung interjected. You nodded your head slowly, unsure of how to react.

"Alright then. Let's go." San bowed to you and you bowed back. Yoonseo waved as San dragged Yunho and Wooyoung out of there. You just stood there and waved to all of them.

"Yun, cut it out." Wooyoung said once they were in the car. He didn't need to explain further, Yunho should know what he was referring to.

"Just being nice and making more friends in the dance world. Why are you all bothered?" Yunho asked back.

"I am not. Just stop with whatever it is you're doing." Wooyoung frowned. Yunho shrugged, he wasn't too affected by Wooyoung's pissy attitude towards him.

"Okay, both of you stop. Kid in the car." San cut in, reminding them that Yoonseo was there. Luckily Yoonseo was distracted by something out the window, not really paying attention to whatever conversation her dad and uncle were having. Wooyoung sighed and just continued driving.

Honestly, he didn't know why he got all bothered too. That's how Yunho usually is with new people, very friendly, which Wooyoung should be used to.

When he pulled up to the dorms where they were going to have dinner together, Yunho walked with Yoonseo.

"Hey, man. You gotta tone it down a little." San said as he and Wooyoung walked behind the two.

"I know. I don't know what came over me. It really looked like he was flirting with her and I just... I felt possessive almost." Wooyoung sighed with a shake of his head.

"There's my baby girl!" Hongjoong yelled as Yoonseo jumped into his arms.

"How was dance class, my little ballerina?" The captain walked in with Yoonseo while the 3 members removed their shoes and went to greet the others. Hongjoong sat down on the couch with Yoonseo in his lap. Seonghwa came out of the kitchen and scoffed.

"That's it, he's just going to stay there the entire night and not help." Seonghwa glared.

"Be honest though, hyung. Do you actually want him in the kitchen?" Jongho asked. Seeing that the maknae had a point, Seonghwa went back to the kitchen.

"Let me help, hyung." Wooyoung came in, washing his hands. He and Seonghwa were usually the ones in the kitchen.

"So, Yeosang told me about your little... dilemma." Seonghwa said as he cooked the chicken.

"Tattletale." Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

"Don't blame him, he's just concerned for you and not sure on how to help. I think it's great, by the way. That you're slowly allowing yourself to trust and accept new people into your life." Seonghwa said.

"You think so? Because I'm terrified. I feel like I'm being selfish if I act on my feelings, not putting Yoonseo and Ateez first. I already made that mistake once."

"A mistake, maybe. But we all make mistakes. Don't be afraid of making mistakes, Woo. It's part of life. You got a really great kid out of it. And sometimes, you have to put yourself and your feelings first. If not, you'll always be missing out or losing out on great opportunities. We won't blame you." Seonghwa smiled.

"Thanks, hyung." Wooyoung gave a small smile.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Let yourself love again. Just don't bring home another kid yet." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Tickets, please." The usher held his hand out. Wooyoung handed the guy his and Yoonseo's tickets. He led them to their seats, which was quite near the stage.

'Friends and Family'

That was when Wooyoung realised the tickets the dancers had were better seats, closer to the stage.

"Are you excited, baby?" Wooyoung asked. Yoonseo nodded her head, kicking her legs excitedly. More than excited, Wooyoung felt nervous, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

"Why are you hiding your face?" Yoonseo asked, pointing to the black mask Wooyoung had on.

"I think I have a stuffy nose." Wooyoung lied. He wore his mask in case any fans recognise him. He wanted to the attention to be on the performance, not on him. The plan was to remove the mask when the lights were dimmed.

"Appa, where is Miss (y/n)?" Yoonseo questioned as she held the programme book. Wooyoung held the booklet and flipped through it.

"Let me see... There. She is in 4 dances." Wooyoung said, pointing each time your name appeared. He hoped that Yoonseo was tall enough to see you on stage.

"When is it going to start?" Yoonseo stood up.

"Sit back down, please. It'll start soon, baby." Wooyoung patted the seat and Yoonseo pouted, climbing back on.

And as Wooyoung said, the lights dimmed a little later, signalling the start of the showcase. Yoonseo let out a little excited squeal and Wooyoung softly hushed her.

When it was your first item, Wooyoung felt his heart race a little. The moment the curtain opened, he saw you.

You looked absolutely beautiful, mesmerizing even. The costume fitted you perfectly, flowing along with your movements. To Wooyoung, you were like the main dancer with a glow around you, as if the spotlight was on you the entire time you performed. And no, he wasn't being biased, so he says.

"Do you see her?" Wooyoung leaned over to ask Yoonseo softly. She nodded and pointed to you with a big grin on her face.

"Can she see us?" Yoonseo whispered.

"Maybe." He chuckled, patting her head. They continued watching through the rest of the performance. Wooyoung loved each one more than the last.

Except when you performed a duet with a male partner. If looks could kill, your partner would be 10 feet underground.

He eyed the way your partner held your waist to support you during your turns and he hated the part where you stared into each other's eyes before he dipped you down.

"Appa? Are you okay? Do you need to pee?" Yoonseo asked softly, placing her hand over Wooyoung's when she saw his expression.

"No, baby. I'm fine. I don't need to pee." Wooyoung smiled.

At the final curtain call, everyone stood up to applaud the dancers. Wooyoung supported Yoonseo to stand on her seat to wave to you. You definitely saw them and waved back. Your eyes met Wooyoung and you smiled softly. He waved back to you and clapped.

"Miss (y/n)!" Yoonseo let go of her father's hand and ran straight to you when she saw you come out backstage.

"Yoonseo!" You dropped your bag and bent down. Opening your arms, you let her run to hug you tightly. You hummed, swaying from side to side.

"You were amazing!" Yoonseo excitedly squealed.

"Thank you. I'm really happy you came. I saw you right from the start." You softly pinched her cheek.

"For you." She held out the rose that she was carrying with her.

"It's beautiful." You patted her head. Wooyoung broke through the crowd, panting as he was looking for where Yoonseo ran off to. You straightened up and smiled at him.

"Yoonseo, you know you're not supposed to run like that! There are so many people here." Wooyoung frowned.

"But I saw Miss (y/n)." She pouted, hugging your leg.

"Thank you for coming, Wooyoung." You bowed. The both of you walked away from the main crowd to have some more privacy. Wooyoung handed you the bouquet of flowers that he was holding. You blinked at it, feeling your cheeks heat up. This wasn't the first time you got flowers but from Wooyoung, you felt flustered.

"You were great, by the way. Thank you for the tickets. We enjoyed the show a lot." Wooyoung complimented and Yoonseo nodded in agreement, holding her father's hand.

"Thanks, I'm glad you had a good time. These are beautiful." You smiled shyly, holding the bouquet and Yoonseo's flower in your arms.

"Are you hungry? Want some burgers?" Wooyoung chuckled.

"Starving, actually." You giggled. Yoonseo walked between you and Wooyoung as the 3 of you headed back to the car. Wooyoung went to a drive thru so you ate in the car.

"This hits the spot. Barely had time to eat today." You sighed happily as you took a bite of the burger.

"I'm glad. You deserve it after working so hard all day." Wooyoung laughed.

"You alright, baby?" He turned to see Yoonseo happily eating her nuggets. She grinned at him, happy to get nuggets to eat. The two of you looked so similar, blissfully happy with your food.

With how hungry you both were, the food was demolished quickly. But being past her usual bedtime, Yoonseo did fall asleep in the backseat, leaving you and Wooyoung to have hushed conversations. You talked about the most random things.

"Thanks again for coming tonight, Wooyoung." You said.

"Ah, stop thanking me. It was a great show, I really enjoyed it. It was great watching you. You'll have to come for our next concert, okay?" Wooyoung laughed.

"If you'd have me. I would love to see you perform on stage." You said honestly. Wooyoung felt himself get shy now.

"Our concerts are always fun. You'll have a great time there." He promised.

"Thanks for the burgers and for dropping me off. I guess I'll see you next week when Yoonseo has class?" You tilted your head as Wooyoung pulled up to your place.

"Actually, (y/n). Can I take you out for a proper meal some time? As a date." Wooyoung couragiously asked.

"I'd like that. And Wooyoung, even if you wanted to do drive thru in the car again, I'd be more than happy to do that." You giggled.

"As much as I appreciate that and enjoyed it too, we have to go to a proper restaurant. A first date always has to be special. I'll text you and we'll fix a date." Wooyoung smiled. It warmed your heart how seriously Wooyoung took this but you were serious too, you felt happy as long as you were with him.

"Alright. Goodnight, Wooyoung." You got out of the car.

"Goodnight, (y/n). Sleep well." He waved. He watched you disappear into your building and turned back to check on the sleeping Yoonseo before driving back home.

It'll take a while but Wooyoung knew there was no other person he would rather reopen his heart to than you.

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squirmhoney · 3 days

Text

WANT AND WANTING | 1

Warnings: Dark fic. Non con. Dub con. Violence. Character deaths. Smut. Incest. Angst. 18+ Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Niece! Reader Note: Please read prologue first. This is a bit of a slow build up guys but there will be so many more scenes of Aegon and reader interacting together in the next part I swear. I want to bring you longing, agony, grief and so much more with this series.

MASTER LIST

You wished it had been the crisp air that had awoken you from your slumber and at first you believed it to be.

But the burning heat that covered your skin signified something else. It came with a slick sweat that covered you underneath the sheets and was paired with a haunted picture of white locks and violet eyes that never allowed you a moment of peace. Even as you felt the cold breeze coming from the peaks of the mountains nipping at your skin most nights, you would never escape the firm grip King’s Landing had on you.

Your heart and a part of your soul remained there. Remained with him.

It was how you found yourself wandering the desolate halls while the castle slept. In search of the one place you believed helped you find peace.

Ser Ronard Hunn was two steps behind, your sworn knight of the Kingsguard that had followed you to the Vale, the only man that was now privy to every moment in your life. He was deathly loyal, barely allowing anyone other than himself to guard you.

He had been from the first nights of your stay in the Eyrie, the ones where the terrors of the past woke you with screams pouring from your chest. Where your fingers clawed at your throat, gasping for air.

It had been him that had entered your rooms those nights, fearing for your life, only to find you sobbing into the sheets of your bed.

He never uttered a word about it. He kept it to himself and nearly every night he followed you to the sept without a word, disappearing into the shadows as you prayed.

Just like he did tonight as you entered the sept of the Eyrie.

You passed the Mother, feeling her scorned gaze heavy as you made your way to the candles placed underneath the Maiden.

The thick tears that fell from your eyes dropped to the stone floor as you fell to your knees underneath the statue. You pressed yourself to the cold floor, lips parting to pray.

“I-” You swallowed, taking a sharp inhale as you tried to clear the tears that remained. “I confess to sinful thoughts.”

His image was heavy in your mind as your eyes drew closed, his face from that day being imprinted in your mind. You still analysed every corner of his face, the way his eyes coldly stared at you, glazed over. The tension in his face dropped as if he was at peace with your decision.

There were parts to his face that you had forgotten over the years, that seemed to fade even as you begged them to stay. But you never forgot the way his plump lips felt against yours, how his tongue slid across the skin of your neck.

Even though you prayed to the Maiden to free you of the terrors, you asked for a slither of kindness to allow you to keep this one memory. For you to be able to hold onto this one thing.

You could barely get the words out in between your cries.

When you finally opened your lips to speak again, a voice stopped you.

“Princess,” a servant stepped through the doors, making you twist your head back to turn to him.

Ser Hunn stepped out immediately, taking the letter from the servant’s trembling hand with a curt nod.

You rose to your feet, patting the dirt off of your gown while the servant scampered out of the halls.

“What is it?” You asked, taking steps towards Hunn.

“It is a letter from Princess Rhaenyra,” He spoke, taking in the writing. He turned to you. “Your Grandsire has passed and your uncle Aegon has been crowned King.”

You blinked in disbelief, the words not sinking in.

“She wants you to be returned to Dragon Stone immediately,” He told you, handing you the piece of parchment.

You recognised the seal upon the letter, the same one that matched all the letters you had burned since you arrived here.

“We should go immediately,” he spoke again, reaching out his hand for you to take. “If the Hightowers have usurped the throne, they could have sent men here already to capture you.”

“What would they want with me?” Your eyebrows furrowed at him.

“A bargaining chip,” he answered, voice rushed as he reached his hand out towards you again. “The Seven Kingdoms may now be on the brink of war.”

You hadn’t ridden a horse since you were ten and seven. You used to love it, sun gracing your skin as you rode around the Kingswood. You had never been graced with a dragon, riding a horse was all you had.

But you had never seen it as a misfortune, Aegon allowed you to ride with him on Sunfyre at times and you returned the favour.

You remembered the days you made him ride with you, your back pressed to his chest as you’d ride as fast as your horse would let you. It frightened him, his fingers would dig into your sides and he’d scowl at you when you stopped. You’d just laugh as you turned to face him, throwing your head back over his shoulder at his reaction.

For a Dragonrider your horse rides terrified him, or maybe it was your recklessness.

But the fear subsided once he realised you were both alone, none of the Kingsguard around to watch you. In those moments, it was just the pair of you, no royal titles bound to you and no realm that held you to duty.

He never kissed you but at times you wished he had. But Aegon knew of the vow you had made to the maiden and in the Kingswood, under the shade of the trees, with the trickles of sunlight poking through to light up his face, he made a vow to you.

Riding on the back of Ser Hunn’s horse, grasping onto his robes to keep you mounted on his stead was not the same. He rode faster than you ever could, not wasting any time and you were sure you’d make it to the Port of Gulltown before next night's fall.

But you were wrong, it wasn’t long before you found the open roads you had been riding on covered in darkness.

“We can rest if you want,” Ser Hunn spoke, the horse now at a steady pace.

“We should keep on,” you told him, head resting into his back, eyes slipping closed. “Like you said.”

“As you wish my Princess,” he replied.

Sleep wasn’t hard to find on the back of that horse, even though your thighs were sore from the saddle and the cold was nipping at your skin, it somehow came easy. But it was light and the slightest bit of misplaced noise woke you.

It was horse hooves hitting against the muddened trail that woke you but not the ones that you had grown custom to. They were faded, in the distance but it was clear they were drawing near and there were more than a few of them.

You blinked, registering the night and empty vast landscape that surrounded you as you woke.

The noise was growing and you couldn’t ignore it.

“What is that?” You asked, trying to look around.

“Can’t be sure,” Ser Hunn whispered back. “It’s best if we keep quiet.”

That you did.

Your whole body froze against his hardened back, hoping to shield yourself from the noise.

However, it wasn’t the noise of incoming horses that had you grasping at Ser Hunn’s skin, trying to grab his attention. It was the distinct roar of a dragon you knew so well drowning out the hooves closing in.

“Stop,” you told Ser Hunn, panic settling into your skin. When he didn’t answer, you screeched at him, making your voice clear to his ear. “Stop.”

But he didn’t, he didn’t even seem to listen as he continued to ride. When his coarsened face turned you, void all of emotion, you knew.

“What have you done?” You accused, leaning away from him.

His eyes softened and in the dark, you noticed how they grew wet and his lips parted as if to explain himself. But the loud cry of Sunfyre stopped him, bringing your attention back to the sky above.

In the light of the stars you could only see the shadow of the golden beast, flying a distance away as if nearing to circle his prey. If you hadn’t known any better, you might have believed that the stranger would be visiting you that night. But you knew better, or at least you knew the rider that sat upon the saddle.

Death wasn’t going to visit you that night.

You tore yourself from the horse, falling backwards. You hit the ground, the wind being knocked out of you but you still fought to stand.

Once you stood, you didn’t waste any time as you ran. You didn’t know where you’d be running too, the thought did cross your mind that maybe trying to escape was a mistake, it was as if you were prolonging the inevitable.

Sunfyre’s body covered the night when he finally flew over you, concealing you from the light of night.

You weren’t sure if he recognised you, maybe he was simply drawn in by the scent of your fear, the stench of it radiating off your shaky breaths. But he circled around in one swift movement, making his way closer to the ground and back to you.

You were paralysed to the spot, not entirely in fear. It was something else that ruled your body, a mix of feelings just simmering beneath the skin.

But it wasn’t the dragon that got you, it was the hand of a Kingsguard, trying to grasp you instead of shoving you down onto the ground. You fell to the floor as fast as he came at you, only this time you had no time to lift your head, having it completely knocked into the soil and stones below.

You wanted so desperately to open your eyes, to will your arms and hands to move to pry them so. But all you could do was cough, spluttering on the blood and bile that rose from your throat.

His voice was the last thing you heard before you sunk into your own darkness that night. You couldn’t exactly remember what he said but you remember the fear in his voice as he drew closer to your frame. The slight high pitched tone as he sank to his knees beside you…

Or at least that’s what you imagined.

Aegon mindlessly played with the coin in his hand, tossing it between each finger, in hopes it would distract his restless mind.

But as the other seats in the council filled, their contemptuous gaze set heavily on him, it became quite the difficult task to do. Especially when the topic that centred the room would be you.

Aegon huffed, slumping further into his seat and rolling his eyes before he said, “Go on then.”

“Your grace,” Grand Maester Orwyle spoke up first, “We are only concerned that the princess may distract you from the issues at hand.”

“She is one of those issues, is she not?” Aegon asked, not even looking toward the table. “Or daughter of the issue.”

“I think capturing the princess was a great idea, your grace,” Ser Tyland chimed in, eager to please his new King. “One thing we can be sure of is that Princess Rhaenyra loves her children. She wouldn’t risk her daughter’s life.”

“We couldn’t simply just give Rhaenyra her daughter. Even if she was to bend the knee in return of her daughter, she could still betray The King,” Orwyle stated.

In all this back and forth Aegon’s mother spoke of nothing. Her hands clasped in front of her as her eyes seemed to wander elsewhere in the room.

It was only after the small council meeting, when the men had left, did his mother finally turn to him.

“I’m sure you have something to say,” Aegon sighed, knowing he’d rather hear it now than have her in his ear later.

Unlike his mother she simply shrugged, offering a faint smile. It wasn’t of joy, instead her gaze towards him seemed tired.

“What?” He questioned.

“I don’t have anything to say,” She simply stated, she rose from her seat. “These days have been long and tiresome so if you will allow me, I’d like to rest.”

Aegon was taken back by this but after these long days, he also seemed less inclined to care.

So he nodded, going back to playing with the coin between his fingers as his mother stepped out of the room, Ser Criston only a step behind.

“The presence of the Princess is far from good,” Ser Criston spoke of his concerns as he walked side by side with his Queen.

“It is unsettling,” Alicent responded, distaste clear in her tone. “That much we can agree on.”

“Yet you didn’t voice this to Aegon,” his tone was questioning, unsure why she would keep this to herself. She had always in her lifetime been so vocal in her concerns with Aegon and now she sat idly even when Aegon had brought up the matter to her.

“It does not matter what any of us thinks when it comes to the Princess,” Alicent explained herself, stopping for a moment in the corner of the hall. It allowed them both a privy moment, away from onlookers. “His obsession with that girl knows no bounds. He’ll never allow us to use her in our cause.”

“Maybe we could do so without the King knowing,” He suggested, eyes flickering around the halls.

Alicent was quick to shake her head, waving her hand. “No, we’d betray his trust.” Her voice was stern, almost fearful.

Criston knew of Aegon’s affections towards you, he had seen it in the years you had grown together. He had also seen how the young Prince had drowned himself in wines and ventures into the Street of Silk in the years after you had departed from him.

Alicent was most likely right to be weary when it came to you. You were not a pawn they could toy with.

Criston nodded in agreement, saying no more of this.

“I just hope that her presence stops the King from his lecturous activities,” Alicent said, stepping through the corridors again. “It’s the only good she could bring.”

As they passed other members of the court, Alicent graced them with a smile as Criston took a step behind her, careful not to draw suspicion. But as soon as they were out of sight, Alicent was speaking again.

“She needs to be kept out of sight of the court and the small folk. There are still few that support Rhaenyra’s claim and one look towards her and-” she gave Criston a pointed glare, speaking of things they wouldn’t dare to speak out in the open. As if the possibility of it could make it true. “We can’t allow her to be out in the open.”

“I’ll make sure of it, my Queen.”

She nodded in gratitude and he believed that his words helped her to feel at ease.

You knew this room.

No longer cluttered with the red and black tapestries of your household or the many cups with the intricate carvings of the three headed dragon. It seemed empty, space to move around that wasn’t there before.

You hardly had needed to move around the room in your younger years, always sitting in one position as you soothed the drunken prince.

You expected the room to hold a lingering smell, one of wine and fragranced whores that you and The Seven Kingdoms had heard so much about. But all that seemed to linger was the faint smell of ash from a long ride on dragon back.

There was also something else. Something you could never place that just reminded you of him. It kept your mind clouded, images of the past that these four walls held taking you prisoner in your own mind. You couldn’t think of anything but him.

Even when the sun poured through the windows, he sat heavy on your chest. Although the sun did clean your mind through some of the haze, helping you to realise your position.

You had been brought to King’s Landing. Betrayed by who you believed to be one of the most loyal men to you. Placed into the hands of a man that used to be your betrothed, a usurper King who you knew not of what he wanted to do with you.

As much as your heart and soul clung to the past, you couldn’t allow your mind to do the same. You knew not of his affections for you now, it had been years and miles of land and mountains that had separated you. Time and distance can change one’s feelings, you were sure of it. Even if it hadn't truly changed yours.

Hours passed before you saw a familiar face, servants coming in and out through the doors as you lay silently on the bed.

Maester Orwyle wasn’t a friend but he was a face you easily remembered from the days of when you were a girl. You allowed him to look you over, attending to the purple and blue marks that had accumulated from your fall.

You stayed silent, there were no words to speak to the men that abandoned your mother’s claim to the throne the moment a male heir arised. There was nothing to say, men true to their faith would have died by the sword than betray their King’s judgement. That was the way of men with true honour.

He left without uttering a word, bowing his head before he walked out of the door.

You had believed that he’d be your last visitor of the day. Or maybe he should have been.

If it wasn’t for the quiet that filled the room, you were sure you’d never have heard of the conversation outside your doors.

Maester Orwyle addressing your uncle as King.

You thought his voice would bring an agony that had been brewing for years. One that would have you paralysed and weeping in your room for him to find you.

Somewhere that pain was sitting under your skin but it was a rage that pushed you towards the door, ripping it open without a single thought.

“Traitor,” You screamed, storming past the Kingsguard that stood posted against your door.

Once you saw him in your eye sight, you lunged at him. You didn’t remember what he looked like in that exact moment, you only remembered being so fueled by your mother’s anger that you desired to hurt him.

“Traitor,” you kept on going even when the kingsguard yanked you away from him. “How could you?”

Your words were strained, burning the back of your throat, unable to control the way they came out. But you didn’t care.

You wanted him to see this, to feel how you felt.

But like the years before you couldn’t read him, couldn’t understand that expression that sat on his face.

Before you had time to register it, to let it cement in your mind, you had been thrown back into that empty room. The doors being shut behind you as you were left a sobbing mess on the cold floor.

It was the pain that finally took over, the agony that made you a weeping mess. You fought between allowing your anger to take hold, ruining your first chance to settle your eyes upon his face, to wanting to force yourself through those doors and strike yourself at him again.

Taglist: @ohhh-boo-tiful @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @muscari-fae @callsignwidow @hummusxx @allicentsallure @mariamyousef702 @torchbearerkyle @heavenly1927 @phimbkerthinker @joliettes @darkgvk @janelongxox @bigback112 @multifanxtvshows @yournerdmodziata

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon ii fic #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen

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moonstruckme · 2 days

Note

hello mae! I had a request I’d like to give you. I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where reader has never slept beside anybody before bc intimacy isn’t something she’s used to therefore she’s not used to being that close to anybody. everytime she shifts she’s afraid to wake up the boys, or she just doesn’t know what to do.

I know you have “first night with marauders” so if this is too similar I totally get it. 🖤

Hello sweetheart, thank you for your request!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 990 words

You’re terrible at this.

Each of the boys is sound asleep. Sirius has his leg hooked over yours and one of his arms tossed over James’ chest, Remus’ hand has to be halfway numb underneath your pillow, and James is snoring softly on the far side of the bed from you. They’re all so obviously comfortable, practiced in resting like this, whereas you started to get stiff a half hour ago and you’ve been unable to make yourself relax since.

Every movement takes a year, you’re trying so hard not to wake them. You feel like the girl in a movie who’s trying to sneak out of the bed of a one-night stand, all taut muscles and bated breath, except you only want to roll over. Slow, microscopic movements have to be the key.

Your back crackles softly when you shift your weight onto your other hip, and a sigh escapes you before you can stop it.

A low, croaky hum comes from just in front of your face. Your brain is a tempest of expletives.

“Hey.” You can nearly feel the gravel of Remus’ voice buzzing against your lips. “You’re up.”

Muddled with sleep, you can’t tell if his tone is reprimanding or simply observational. “Sorry,” you whisper regardless.

“Wha’ for?” Movement under the pillow beneath your head, and then a long-fingered hand is nestling beneath your cheek. His scars and calluses slide familiarly over your skin. “Can’t sleep?”

Nope, and now it’s two of you. Guilt grows vines around your ribcage. Remus sounds more awake by the second.

“I’ll be okay.” You press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, hoping to mollify him. “Go back to sleep.”

Your boyfriend makes a half-aware disgruntled sound. “No, not without you.”

As exhausted as you are, you have to bite down on a smile. When he’s uninhibited like this, Remus really is quite the flirt, all his dorky, sweet thoughts coming out before he can remember to stop them. He’s nearly as bad as James.

You think he must see a hint of your smile in the dark, because Remus’ own lips tilt upwards. He leans closer to kiss the cool skin of your cheek, the only cold part of you thanks to a heavy duvet and the body heat of three lovely boyfriends. A kiss for a kiss.

He leaves his lips there as he murmurs, “What’s wrong, dove?”

Well, funny he should ask. What’s wrong now is the slight tickle of his stubble against your cheek, the hoarse quality to his voice in your ear. His breath warms your cold skin, and he slides a hand across the space between you to rest on your hip, layered in between the sheets and your pajama bottoms.

But you know that’s not what he’s asking.

“I can’t get very comfortable,” you confess, speaking so softly he wouldn’t be able to make it out if his ear weren’t two inches from your lips, “and I didn’t want to wake anyone up.”

Remus hums, as though this is a prognosis he’d already reached and was merely waiting for you to confirm. You can hear Sirius’ voice as clearly as if he were awake: know it all.

“They can sleep through anything,” he says. “One time the fire alarm went off, and James didn’t even stir. Don’t worry about them.” You must be emanating guilt, because he strokes his thumb over your hip pacifyingly. “And I don’t mind being woken up. I’m in and out of sleep all night anyway, it’s not hard for me to get back. You’re not used to sleeping with so many people, yeah?”

Your face warms at his phrasing, though of course you know what he means. “Or with anyone,” you murmur.

“Mm. I think I know what you need.”

You don’t realize Remus’ plan until he’s already sat up. He reaches over you, rubbing James’ shoulder gently while you protest vehemently through whispers.

James wakes with a yawn, taking Remus’ hand automatically and bringing it close to his face. “Wha’s’it?”

“Take her,” Remus requests drowsily. With his other hand, he nudges you forward.

James starts to blink his eyes open, and you see no way out. You start climbing over Sirius as delicately as you can. “Sorry,” you whisper, to him, to them, to the room in general.

Remus helps you out by tugging Sirius into your place. The other boy whines but settles quickly, rolling over to sling his leg over Remus’ instead.

James welcomes you as heartily as his sleep-addled state will allow, adjusting the covers over you and smudging a few toothpaste-scented kisses onto your face.

“Y’can’t sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Sorry.”

He makes a soft dismissive sound. “C’mere, angel.”

You refrain from telling him that you’re already here as his arms find their way around you, soft and firm in all the right places and deliciously warm. He starts to make slow, sweeping circles onto your back with his hand.

“Jamie,” you murmur, grateful but embarrassed, “don’t stay up for me. Go to sleep.”

“M’basically there,” he replies. “You first, yeah?”

You can hear Remus’ breathing evening out behind you, syncing with Sirius’, and you’re suddenly sure that this is part of a routine he and the boys shared before you ever met them. That’s how he knew to hand you off to James, and how James knew exactly what to do. Something about that comforts you. And far be it for you to mess with tradition.

You shuffle closer to James under the covers. He obliges you happily, adjusting his grip so he’s holding you more securely, with your leg resting against his and your forehead an inch from his nose. The shushing of his heavy palm on the material of your pajama top is the only sound in the world.

You hear his breathing starting to deepen again, but James is right; you beat him there.

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nicksolemnlyswears · 2 days

Text

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of murder and death of a child, surprisingly i thinks there isn't any cursing or smut, maybe next time ;) just good old sad aegon

a/n: this is my first time ever writing for HoTD or GoT for that matter. please be kind to me. i tried to use appropriate wording for the time period. i'm somewhat successful but i have work ahead of me to become a pro.

i felt so enraged when alicent walked out on her grieving son to go fuck around with cole. what the fuck is your problem? i always gave her the benefit of the doubt but this episode just proves what a terrible mother she is. i figured the only person fit to comfort my baby boy aegon is someone raised by rhaenyras gentle heart.

lowkey want to make a throuple out of reader, aegon, and helaena. readers gonna be a little psychologist lol. she'd hold their hands and force them to kumbaya haha but obviously they'd be like this cant work without you. maybe they'll follow aegon the conqueror and have her as a second wife but idk would anyone be interested in that? i'm rambling. enjoy!

The cold stone of the Red Keep kept you company as you strode through its halls. The breeze of the night offered you comfort and aided your mind to forget the terrible events that have plagued the Keep.

And yet, despite your energies being depleted, you can't seem to find rest. Loss weighs you down and spirals you into a depth of overbearing thoughts, making sleep a mere idea.

The Red Keep, the place you once called home, has become your prison. For weeks, you were not allowed out of your chambers, and for a short time afterward, a guard followed you wherever you went.

It has all changed, though. The death of the King's son has diverted all of the guard's forces to find the culprit. The priority is to search for the monster that gruesomely and cruelly decapitated a child while he slept rather than to watch over a harmless Princess who is simply not on their side.

As a result, you're now free to roam the castle, granted there are eyes all around. You wouldn't be able to step foot outside the castle if you tried, and any suspicious activity would immediately be reported to the Hand of the King.

For an unknown reason, your feet guide you to the King's chambers, where indiscernible, muffled sounds come from. You look around and find that the guard meant to protect the King is absent. It's worrisome. You stand in the middle of the stone hallway, your hands clasped, as you make a decision.

While your loyalty lies with the Blacks, you cannot stand and watch more of your family be killed, including the Usurper. Daemon has always been 'kind' in mentioning that your gentle heart will cause your death. You'd argue it's an honorable way to go.

You slip through the ajar door quietly, getting closer to the sound. There is destruction across the room. The Old Valyria model your grandfather worked on for most of his life is scattered on the floor, beyond salvation. Goblets and spilled wine, thrown in a fit of rage, decorate the walls.

It is only when a sharp gasp and a shuddering breath echo around the room that you recognize the sounds you heard outside. They are cries.

You release a breath of relief. No one is in danger, although it does not signify someone is not hurting. You peak further into the room and debate on your next course of action. If the mess inside the chambers and the lack of guards mean anything, it's that the King would like to be alone.

But you know Aegon. You grew up with him. He's not one to reach out for help until it's too late. You make a haste decision. Aegon will not grieve alone tonight.

You know what that's like. Your brother, Lucerys, was murdered not too long ago, and you had no choice but to mourn alone. The Hand of the King locked you in your chambers, afraid your temper would lead you to do something drastic. It's the most horrid thing you've ever endured.

How you wished for Rhaenyra, or anyone for that matter, to hold you while you cried. A maid would've sufficed, but no one was allowed entry into your chambers.

Aegon sits by the fireplace, his head hung low, as he cries for his dead son. It might not have looked like it, but Aegon deeply cared for the boy. He wished to be better than his father ever was, and he was succeeding.

Until two days ago.

You've witnessed firsthand the blanket of sorrow that has covered the Red Keep, spent many hours by Haelena's side, offering her your shoulder, and never realized the King would need the same.

Why is Aegon alone? He should not have to go through this by himself. You expected he would have surrounded himself with his men and countless bottles of wine or sought refuge in Helaena's arms since they shared the same grief.

A heartbreaking cry snaps you out of your thoughts—his whole body trembles from loss. Aegon gasps for air to aid his burning lungs, yet he can't control the tears that track down his cheeks and the raking breaths that course through his body and limit his breathing.

He does not know what to make of himself. His fingers shake as he fumbles with the ring on his finger—the one with the dragon crest. Aegon doesn't know what to make of himself. He's never endured this sort of loss.

His sobs are the ones of a man who lost a part of himself. Jaehaerys, his legacy, has gone too soon. Aegon spent time with the boy the morning before his death, doting on him like Viserys never did to him.

He's so lost in his grief that Aegon doesn't hear when you stumble upon a piece of cast from the model. Being careful with your steps, you reach Aegon's side and place a hand on his shoulder.

Alarmed, he turns to face the person who disturbs him, only to find you—you who have been keeping the Hightower siblings together despite belonging to the other side.

"Leave me be," he sniffs, staring back into the fire. He wonders if that's how his son's pyre looked earlier that day.

You kneel on the floor, settling between his legs to cup his cheeks in your palms. Wide, glossy lilac eyes stare back as they fill with more tears.

As his tears fall, you wipe them away. It's enough to make Aegon crumble in your arms, releasing louder cries and questions that will forever remain unanswered.

It's so easy to let go when you know someone is there to catch you.

Aegon fists your dress like a child would to its mother. You rub his back soothingly, holding him as tightly as you're able. You press a kiss to the side of his head, whispering calming words.

Aegon never wanted to be king, yet the moment he tries to fulfill his duty the moment he tries to be a proper king, he is rewarded by his son being brutally taken from him.

It's not a fair world. The Gods have never been kind to him, and he's afraid he'll only ever live a life of torment.

Now, more than ever, he doesn't want to be King. It is a mere reminder of how heavy the crown truly is. It's a shackle meant to keep him in place while others act upon his name while he pays for the consequences.

"Jaehaerys was a bright soul. I am sorry this has happened. You should've never had to experience this pain," you whisper in his ear. No parent should experience the death of their child. It is a sad reality the Targaryens have experienced all too well.

Aegon nods in agreement, and only when he's calm enough to speak does he tear himself away from your embrace. He instantly misses your warmth and the smell of roses in your hair.

"Why are you comforting me when you should be celebrating my demise?" His waterline is stained red, just like the tip of his nose, and he's never looked more innocent than in that moment.

You tilt your head sadly, that same emotion reflected in your eyes. "I do not celebrate the loss of innocents, especially one that has gone too soon. I also do not particularly like the notion of someone I hold dear grieving alone."

"You did," he sniffs. He remembers hearing your cries that night; the whole Red Keep could. You cried and screamed the entire night until you fell asleep from exhaustion and starvation.

Otto prohibited them from coming to you. Haelena tried, but he dismissed the idea with the false notion that you'd hurt her in your grief. Otto confuses you with your parentage. Unlike them, you're kind and gentle and wouldn't dare hurt anyone.

"Which is how I know I would never wish it upon my worst enemy." You brush your fingers through his blonde hair, tucking the messy strands behind his ears.

"Is that what I am to you? An enemy?" He asks, disgruntled.

"No," you answer immediately, your hands coming down to rest upon his chest. His breathing has calmed since you first saw him. "At least, not yet."

His lilac eyes bore into hers in search of the truth; shyly, you hold onto his gaze with nothing to hide except your intentions to help. Sighing, he closes his eyes and bumps his forehead against yours. Aegon will take what he can get. There's seemingly no one else to help him deal with his emotions.

"Stay," he pleads, holding onto the hand that's placed on his chest. This is the most at peace he's felt in a while. He wishes to savor it for a moment longer.

"For as long as you need, my King," you reply, closing your eyes.

"Aegon," he says. He refuses to be reminded of what lies outside his bed chambers. For just a moment, he wishes to simply be Aegon.

"Aegon," you respond, correcting yourself. He squeezes your hand appreciatively, tucking your head on his neck.

He keeps you in his arms until late hours in the night, recounting memories he shared with Jaehaerys. The pain is real and raw, and he won't be well for a long time, but for this night, Aegon will seek solace in your embrace, where he knows he won't be judged or be seen as a burden.

In your arms, he's not Aegon' the Magnanimous.' He's not seen as careless or reckless or the lesser child of Alicent Hightower.

He's Aegon.

that’s it! it’s sweet and short. i just wanted to have someone comfort aegon like he deserves. during that scene i wished i could jump into t he screen and hug him. it’s all so tragic.

i wish i could do the same with haelena. my girl needs to be coddled. fuck alicent. fuck otto. most importantly fuck criston cole.

if you enjoyed this one shot please don’t forget to like or comment and if you want more of it feel free to let me know! i don’t bite (unless you want me to)!

#fanfiction #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #hotd #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon targaryen fanfiction

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ao3commentoftheday · 1 day

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I'm over 350k words into writing a very long fic that's about halfway done, and lately, I feel like quitting. I've considered posting the outline as a final chapter to give people closure and then just walking away from it.

But I also really want to be able to actually finish it because the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it.

I feel trapped between not wanting to work on it anymore and wanting to finish this story that I've already poured so much time and love into. I want to finish it as much as I want to quit. But the idea of going on is almost agonizing.

Part of why I've been wanting to quit is because my health went downhill about 8 months into working on it, and it has only got worse since then, and that makes chapters take a long time to finish. I'm very slow to update and it makes me feel bad for the readers who are waiting for more. It's not like that many people are waiting, there isn't too much pressure in that sense. It's a rarepair and the fandom isn't as active as it used to be. But there are some people who are excited to know what happens next, and I feel like I'm letting them down by taking so long. I'd probably let them down even more if I didn't write the rest of it, though.

Another reason I've been wanting to quit is that I've been working on this fic for a few years already and it's going to take a few more years to finish, and that is overwhelming. I'm exhausted from such a long commitment to something creative. I've never spent longer than 6 months on a fic before and didn't think this one was going to take so long.

The final reason is that my writing style has changed in small ways over the course of working on the fic and I feel like older chapters are not as good as the newer chapters and I'm sort of losing confidence in myself. I don't enjoy reading my old fics because all I see are the things I'd change, and I feel like that's starting to happen with this fic.

This is supposed to be fun and I'm not having fun right now.

I don't know what to do.

Do you have any advice?

*hugs* the first thing I want you to do, anon, is take a deep breath. hold it. let it out.

It's going to be okay. ❤️

You've got a lot of different emotions going on right now and a lot of different reasons for feeling them. You need to stop trying to push them away and "get on with things" because that's just like shoving your mess into the closet. Eventually that door isn't going to shut anymore.

You also need to take care of yourself before you worry about your readers. They'll still be there later. New ones might come by in the meantime. If you're putting your readers' presumed wants and needs ahead of your own, you'll eventually start to feel resentful towards them for "forcing" you to do something you don't want to (or just can't) do right now.

First and foremost, I think you need a break. You're exhausted and you're pressuring yourself to do more than you're capable of. The way you describe things, it sounds like you're pretty burnt out and in need of some recovery time. Berating yourself and forcing yourself and pushing yourself so hard is only going to make it all worse.

You know that old Snickers commercial where the person turns into an ogre or something and their friend gives them a chocolate bar? The tag line is something like "You're not you when you're hungry." Well, you're also not you when you're exhausted. Your brain is currently a toddler in need of a nap, and if it doesn't get that nap then it's just going to have a tantrum and ruin your whole day.

Take a moment and think of this story that you're writing. Why do you want to finish it? Is it because the readers are excited for it? Is it because you've put a lot of work into it already? Is it because you've already spent a lot of time on it?

All of those things might be true, but you said the most important part yourself, right up front, "the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it."

It's not about the readers, and it's not about the effort, and it's not about the time. It's about the story. That's the important thing. And if that's the important thing, then you can write it at your own pace. You can enjoy the writing process of it. You can spend your time imagining scenes that might or might not make it into the final version.

Writing fic is a hobby, and like you said it's meant to be fun. Take it off of your list of responsibilities and put it onto your list of daydreams instead. The only person you're accountable to with this story is yourself. The next time you catch yourself thinking, "I have to-" or "I should-" when you're thinking about this story, stop and recognize that thought. Where is it coming from? Why are you having it? Is it actually true or do you just feel like it is?

Then take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. This story is for you first. Take your time with it.

#asks and answers

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luveline · 1 day

Note

Hi jade!! I saw ur looking for some Steve or Eddie requests, I was thinking either of them seeing reader a little tipsy leaving a party with a guy she obviously doesn’t want to go with and they kinda step in and save her:) ily

ty for requesting! fem, 1.2k

“What’s up with you?”

Eddie shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

Jamison, taller than Eddie, rests on the opposite side of the same door frame. They’re blocking the hallway, Eddie in the kitchen doorway and Jamison the living room’s, but neither care nor mind. Being conscientious isn’t Jamison’s style, and Eddie’s too heartbroken to care.

“What, is it Y/N?” Jamison asks.

Eddie nods in your direction, past Jamison’s shoulder. He turns.

You’re sitting amongst a crowd of people on a coffee table, a guy standing between your legs. He’s holding your face, a hand especially possessive at the side of your neck.

“I didn’t even know she was talking to somebody,” Eddie says.

“That’s not a lot of talking,” Jamison says. “She looks wasted.”

You do seem pretty tipsy, your eyes heavy, head lolling into the guy’s hand. He laughs at you and bends to touch you, his hands going under your arms, and Eddie has to look away.

Jamison gives him a shove. “Eddie.”

“I can’t look. My heart is broken.”

“Eddie, does that seem weird to you?”

Eddie joins Jamison in the doorway and glares at the people glaring at them both to move, before he finds you again. The guy you’re with is trying to pull you into a standing position, but you’re moving backward, attempting to lay on the coffee table despite a mound of decorative books and candles.

“Sweetheart,” the guy says softly, “come on, let’s get you home.”

“No, thanks.”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. Just seems like she’s drunk.”

Still, his feelings set aside, there’s something off about it. You’re squirming away from his touch —he grabs your hip and you groan like you’re in pain. The guy's smile twitches and Eddie thinks, Oh.

He forces Jamison to take his drink and plunges forward.

“I don’t want to go with you,” you say, slurring but for sure a rejection.

“Y/N,” Eddie says, before your mystery guy can get another word in, his hand suspiciously tight on your elbow, “you okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“Awesome,” he says, giving the guy a smile and turning his attention right back to you. Your expression fills with familiarity, your shoulders sagging in relief. “You okay?”

“I just said she’s fine.”

“And both times I wasn’t asking you,” Eddie says, looking at your jerk with wild incredulity. “Dude.”

“Eddie, I’m okay,” you say.

“Yeah? Wanna come and get a glass of water?”

“Munson, I fucking have her, man. She’s fine, she literally asked me to take her home.”

This guy isn’t an out and proud skeeze ball, he’s undercover. Eddie can’t tell instantly if he’s lying, nor could he have spotted him a mile off, but the more he watches how he’s acting, the more Eddie doesn’t care either way; boyfriend or not, he can’t just grab you and pull at you.

“Maybe stop fucking dragging her around,” Eddie snaps.

“I’m trying to help her up! It’s none of your business.”

Eddie can’t fight. He sizes the guy up anyways and decides his best bet is a swift attack, Eddie’s probably gonna need the first punch. He curls his hand into a fist at his side to give it one last shot.

“Listen,” Eddie says, “I’m gonna ask her if she wants to go with you, and no matter what she says I’m not gonna let her, anyway. One of the girls can take her home.”

“You fucking loser,” the guy says, with enough vitriol for Eddie to know he’s about to get punched.

You save the day. You finally manage to stand, and you rag your arm out of the weird guy’s grip. Your other hand sews through Eddie’s arm, your drunken weight pressing into his side. “I don’t wanna go anywhere with him,” you say to Eddie, looking into his face with urgency. “I don’t even know who he is.”

“You fucking creep,” Eddie says to the guy. “‘Cos she’s drunk you’re gonna force her into the car? Go be a ‘white knight’ somewhere else, Jesus.”

“Leave me alone!” you pipe up.

“You’re both fucking losers,” the guy says, stalking off through the door and into the hallway.

Eddie wishes he could say that he can’t believe how creepy people are. He can’t imagine what the guy would’ve done to you if he’d managed to get you back to his car.

“You okay?” he asks you again.

You sit down hard on the coffee table. With music thumping from the kitchen and tens of eyes on you, you’re looking overwhelmed, and queasy if your constant swallowing is any indication.

Eddie sits down next to you. “You don’t know that guy?”

“No. Name is Connor something, I think.”

Connor the Creep, Eddie thinks. Fitting. “Your arm okay? He was grabbing you pretty tightly.”

“I thought he was gonna take me to his car,” you say, letting your face hang forward.

“I wasn’t gonna let him.” Eddie pats your leg amicably. “Seriously. I thought he was your new boyfriend at first, but you made it clear you didn’t wanna go with him. Good job.”

You shake your head. “I’m so stupid.”

“If you’re stupid, I’m dire.”

“I can’t believe how drunk I am,” you say, turning to him, stressed and humoured at once. You giggle strangely. It’s pretty cute, but Eddie’s wondering if he should be pulling you in for a hug or something, you look that unsettled.

“It’s a party! That’s what people do at them. You’re fine.”

“Not fine. What if he felt me up?” you ask.

Eddie nods. “Right. I’m sorry I didn’t swoop in sooner, I would’ve– I’m just dumb as a bag of rocks. I couldn’t tell he was being a creep until I got a good look at you.”

“Don’t be sorry, you got him to leave me alone.”

“…Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

His eyebrows pinch. Yours follow, like a funny mirror, and you hold your hands out on wobbly arms, waiting for him to put something against your chest. He shakes his head in confusion.

“Can you hug me?” you ask.

His eyebrows rise, his lips press together in surprise, and he hides it by quickly taking your arms and pressing them against his sides. He wraps his own around the tops of your arms and your shoulders, his hair pulled as he smushes your heads together.

“You don’t have to go home with anybody you don’t want to,” he promises, scared that you’re scared.

“I wanna go home with you,” you say, feeling along one side of his waist nicely.

He holds back a shiver. “I’m gonna get Macy to take you, babe. Don’t worry.”

“Okie dokie. Thank you, Eddie, you saved me.”

“It was a team effort.”

You speak into his shoulder, “Go team.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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hibiscusorca · 2 days

Text

A sirens cry

Danny Never thought he'd end up here after high school, but here he is at a dingy little underground venue in Gotham.

Wel atleast he got a little bit more attractive with th longer hair and piercings.

It took a while to get used to gotham, really, he's never seen so many shades and blob ghosts in one city before but it's whatever.

He lives with jazz since she works at Arkham, which he strongly advised against at first but, he was really stubborn about it so he just let her do what she wanted.

Which brings us back to the present, the loud booming noises of the drums and guitar, the subtle but crucial sound of the bass and most importantly, the singer, him.

On this particular night he has some company in the form of 8 bats, he has his theorie on why they're there but for now hell focus of belting out the lyrics that pay his rent.

After the show has ended he excuses himself out back. He stands there. One leg crossed over the other hands in his leather jacket pocket.

After a beat or two down comes two bats, Batman and red robin. (Red) robin is around his hight if not a but taller but that's not the point, he craned his head up to look where the bats eyes we're to be, if they were not covered.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The people have spoken(the 19 ppl who voted yes)

AHHHHH I don't like this one but I put too much effort in it to not post it😭

#aanddd I've run out of ideas lmao #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dc x dp #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc fic #✧ dpxdc orca things･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★.

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simpjaes · 2 days

Text

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion. or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening.

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!]

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship, unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing.

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips.

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo.

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly.

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing.

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains.

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events.

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say.

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion.

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one.

Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him.

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance.

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from.

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another.

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin.

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.”

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy.

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly.

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.”

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone.

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again.

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down.

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point.

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags.

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic–

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something.

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes.

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues.

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.”

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.”

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks.

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears.

That savior is none other than Jay, walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise.

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield.

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically.

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door.

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well.

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible.

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window.

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff.

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything.

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help.

Of course it is.

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?”

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him.

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question.

“Was that too forward to ask?”

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does.

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.”

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him.

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.”

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.”

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening.

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?”

Oh fuck, he’s right.

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you.

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first.

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question.

“Where to then?”

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him.

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.”

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot.

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him.

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote.

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine.

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it.

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone.

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.”

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass.

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase.

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip.

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again.

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus.

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something.

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile.

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too.

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable.

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.”

You nod energetically with a laugh.

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away.

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less.

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane.

Unfortunately for you though, Nope.

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug.

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more.

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare.

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.”

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch.

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off.

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment.

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you?

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm.

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening.

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off.

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second.

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?”

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed.

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time.

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.”

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad.

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential.

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence.

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you.

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you.

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again.

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction.

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance.

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.”

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership.

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange?

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.”

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically.

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce.

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges.

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.”

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?”

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you.

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer.

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows.

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much.

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.”

You snort.

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.”

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond.

“I can imagine so, yeah.”

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together.

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so.

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink.

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment.

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other.

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his.

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would.

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily.

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly.

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile.

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss.

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him.

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you.

“Was I wrong though?”

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you.

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes.

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in.

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him.

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him.

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?”

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now.

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day.

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.”

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room.

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside.

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable.

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change.

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you.

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table.

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer.

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him.

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is.

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now.

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys.

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind.

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually.

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like?

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?”

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer.

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?”

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you.

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you.

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before.

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier.

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky.

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died.

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way.

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you.

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair.

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.”

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too.

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you.

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too.

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back.

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody.

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs.

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude.

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss.

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again.

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands.

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit.

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering.

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again.

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit.

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly.

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest.

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers.

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.”

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want.

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties.

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally.

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you.

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?”

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself.

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure.

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment.

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him.

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance.

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking.

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it.

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want.

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you.

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now.

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs.

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs.

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it.

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want.

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off.

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head.

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering.

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt.

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually.

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides.

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you?

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist.

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him.

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check.

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds?

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath.

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now?

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately.

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.”

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy.

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest.

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you.

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace.

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark.

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this.

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner.

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit.

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily.

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–”

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation.

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone.

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop.

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess.

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work.

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you.

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

#enhypen smut #park jonseong smut #jay smut #park jay smut #enha smut

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