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sherewrytes · 3 months ago

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Half crazy, Toji x reader

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

Character look book

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Chapter 1: Limerence at first sight.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees lining the university courtyard as you adjusted your headphones, the smooth beats of SZA blending into the sharp riffs of Paramore. Your playlist mirrored your mood—calm with an edge, always somewhere between soul and rebellion. With a backpack full of architecture textbooks and your sketchpad and iPad tucked under your arm, you walked toward the library, letting the rhythm guide your steps. You were just wrapping up your first year, and architecture school was no joke. Still, you thrived under the pressure.

But as always, trouble had a way of showing up when you least expected it.

Outside the library, lingering by the steps, was a group that you had noticed more than a few times. Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, and of course, Toji. They were infamous on campus, but not because of their academic standing. Sure, they were all enrolled, but their reputation as street racers and rumored connections to something darker made them the subject of hushed whispers in the halls.

Toji Zenin—though no one called him that. He went by Fushiguro, his mother’s maiden name, and most people had learned not to ask why. Tall, broad, and intimidatingly quiet, Toji’s presence demanded attention. Tattoos snaked up his forearms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black fitted t-shirt, and the scar running along the left side of his lips only added to the danger in his look. His eyes—dark, sharp, and always calculating—were the kind that made you feel like he could see right through you.

You felt his gaze on you before you even looked up.

As you approached the steps, you noticed the subtle shift in his posture. He was leaned back against the wall, smoking casually, a cigarette dangling between his lips. His dark eyes flicked to you, scanning you from head to toe, but he didn’t say a word. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if in amusement, before he went back to his conversation with Sukuna. His friends—Sukuna with his wicked grin, Geto with his long hair pulled back, and Gojo, as cocky as ever—were all laughing about something, their voices low and careless.

You had heard the rumors about them. Everyone had. They said Toji and his crew weren’t just street racers—they were into some shady business, underground stuff that no one could quite prove but everyone loved to speculate about. Drugs? Guns? Something worse? It didn’t matter. People talked because they didn’t understand.

But you weren’t the type to buy into that. Sure, they were rebels, but they were street racers—thrill seekers. The tattoos, the late-night races, the attitude—it was just a part of their image. The campus made up half the stories, anyway. You doubted Toji was into anything more than his cars, racing, and the occasional brawl when someone crossed him.

Besides, if they were as bad as everyone said, they wouldn’t still be walking around campus, would they?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you back to reality. It was a message from Shoko, your best friend and the only person who really understood your love for blending R&B with punk rock.

Shoko: “Where are you? Mei Mei’s being dramatic again, come save me.”

You smirked, typing a quick reply. “On my way.”

One last glance at Toji before you made your way inside. He was still watching you—casually, lazily, like he didn’t care if you caught him staring or not. But you weren’t the kind to give it much thought. You shot him a quick look, raising a brow as if to say, Really? before heading into the library.

Inside, Shoko was already draped across your usual table, her hoodie pulled low over her face, scrolling through her phone with an air of indifference. Shoko had that effortlessly chill vibe that matched your energy.

“You look like hell,�� Shoko deadpanned, pushing her hood back as you dropped your stuff onto the table.

“Thanks,” you snorted. “Long day. What’s this drama with Mei Mei?”

Before Shoko could answer, the sharp click of heels against the library floor announced the arrival of Mei Mei herself—rich girl, socialite, and the queen of unnecessary drama. Despite her extra attitude, Mei Mei wasn’t bad company, and she had an eye for design that rivaled yours.

“You’ll never guess who’s throwing a party this weekend,” Mei Mei announced, flipping her sleek hair over her shoulder as she sat down. “Everyone’s going. Even your favorites.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.”

Mei Mei smirked. “Oh, come on. I saw the way he was looking at you outside. Toji Fushiguro. He’s into you.”

“Or maybe he’s just into staring,” you shot back, pulling out your sketchpad. “Either way, I’m not interested.”

Shoko leaned back, folding her arms with a lazy grin. “Yeah, sure. But you didn’t see him outside. That was more than a stare. He was practically sizing you up.”

You shrugged it off. You knew they had a reputation, and maybe Toji wasn’t the kind of guy you got involved with, but something about the way he looked at you was different. It wasn’t the typical arrogant glance guys gave you. There was something deeper, more calculating behind his eyes, and it was hard to shake.

Still, you weren’t about to get distracted. Architecture school was your priority, and you weren’t about to fall for some tattooed bad boy with a reputation for street racing. Even if there was something undeniably magnetic about him.

Mei Mei, completely unbothered by your protests, continued. “Well, he’s racing again this weekend also. Everyone’s talking about it. He’s been working on his car nonstop, and rumor has it he’s got something big planned.”

“Isn’t he always working on his car?” you muttered, but your curiosity was piqued. You weren’t into racing, but you had a weakness for fast cars. Maybe you’d go check it out. Just to see what the fuss was about.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, your thoughts drifted back to the way Toji had looked at you. He didn’t seem like the type to be bothered by what people said about him. Maybe that’s what intrigued you

his absolute indifference to the rumors. He moved through life on his own terms, tattoos, scars, and all.

And even though you knew better, even though you told yourself you weren’t interested, there was a small part of you that wondered what it would be like to peel back the layers of Toji Fushiguro—the street racer, the rebel, the mystery.

Toji’s POV:

The late afternoon sun did little to warm the creeping cold that always seemed to settle in his bones. He leaned back against the stone wall near the library steps, cigarette lazily hanging from his lips, its smoke curling into the sky in languid, careless trails. The day had been uneventful—Sukuna talking shit as usual, Geto and Gojo cracking jokes, the usual banter. But today, his mind was elsewhere, distracted, until you appeared.

He noticed you long before you saw him. Always did. There was something about the way you moved, headphones on, shoulders squared against the world, that caught his attention more than he'd ever let on. Your steps had a rhythm, a flow that matched the music he imagined pulsing through your veins, always somewhere between chill and fire, like you could flip a switch and become someone entirely different at any moment.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing as they trailed over you. You didn’t even flinch when you spotted them—all the rumors, all the warnings about him and his crew didn’t seem to faze you. That’s what set you apart from the rest. You didn’t cower, didn’t whisper behind your hand like some scared little thing. No, you always met his gaze, challenging without a word.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he caught your eye. Just like that, you were in his head, and he hated it. Hated how your presence, with your books and your sketchpad and your headphones, could unnerve him. Sukuna said something to him, but it barely registered. His focus was locked on you.

“Yo, Toji. You even listenin’?” Sukuna’s voice cut through his thoughts, followed by Geto’s low chuckle.

Toji flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. “I heard you.”

“Right.” Sukuna’s grin was sharp, knowing. “You’re lookin’ like you wanna eat her alive.”

Toji’s jaw tightened. “Mind your own.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Geto chimed in, eyes following Toji’s line of sight. “She’s not like the others, huh?”

Toji shot him a glare, but the truth of it gnawed at him. No, you weren’t like the others. You didn’t fall for his reputation or melt under the weight of his gaze. You didn’t belong in his world. Hell, you probably had no idea what went on behind the scenes—just whispers, rumors, shit that wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what his life really was.

Racing? That was just the tip of the iceberg. The adrenaline was addictive, sure, but that wasn’t all he was into. Not by a long shot. And you? You were too…clean. Too good to get involved with someone like him.

But it didn’t stop him from wanting to drag you into his world.

He cracked his neck, trying to shake off the frustration that tightened his chest. You didn’t belong in his thoughts, but there you were, taking up space anyway. He shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look in his car, watching him race. Shouldn’t wonder how you’d feel against him, under him, around him. Fuck, the thought was enough to make him run a hand through his hair, frustration brewing under the surface.

“She got a boyfriend or something?” Gojo asked, grinning like he knew what was about to happen.

Toji’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.

“Just kidding,” Gojo said, laughing. “You look like you’re about to bite someone’s head off.”

Toji didn’t say anything, just stared at the spot where you had disappeared. It didn’t matter if you were seeing someone. Hell, it didn’t matter what you thought of him. If he wanted you, he’d have you. Simple as that. And from the way you’d glanced at him, quick but telling, you weren’t entirely indifferent, no matter what you told yourself.

He knew your type. You were the kind who thought you could play it safe, keep your head down, focus on school. But he saw the way your eyes flickered with curiosity when you thought no one was looking. The way you lingered on the edge of trouble, intrigued by the things that scared you.

Toji’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His eyes finally left the library door as he checked the message.

Shui K.: Race this weekend. You in? Heard you’ve got a new setup. Big pot, Fushiguro. Don’t fuckin’ miss it.

He smirked, shoving the phone back in his pocket. This weekend was going to be something else, alright.

He had been working on his car for weeks, tweaking things, perfecting the engine. He was ready to make waves, to leave everyone in the dust. Maybe you’d be there, watching from the sidelines, pretending like you didn’t care.

But he’d know the truth.

And when the time came, you’d be more than curious.

You’d be his.

Saturday arrived before you knew it, bringing with it the familiar tension of anticipation. You and your friends had shown up early, staking your spot near the race line before the crowd thickened. The industrial district was already humming with energy—the low roar of distant engines, bass-heavy music pulsing through the air,

and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber. You were surrounded by groups of spectators, all buzzing with excitement, but your mind was elsewhere.

You hadn’t seen Toji yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time. The memory of his piercing gaze the last time you locked eyes was enough to set your heart racing. He had a way of pulling you in without even trying, and tonight felt no different.

Suddenly, the roar of engines cut through the crowd's chatter. Heads turned as a pack of cars approached, their engines snarling and tires squealing in an almost choreographed display of power and control. Even before they appeared,

you knew exactly who it was. You could feel the shift in the crowd’s energy, a mixture of awe and envy rolling over the spectators.

First came Sukuna’s blood-red Chevy Camaro. The car was unmistakable, with its custom paint job gleaming under the dim streetlights and red neon lights glowing beneath it, casting an eerie glow on the asphalt.

Sukuna, with that devil-may-care smirk, rolled in with one hand on the wheel, his other arm hanging lazily out the window as if the world revolved around him. He revved the engine, causing a collective murmur from the crowd.

Next, Geto arrived in his 1999 yellow and black Nissan Primera GT, green neon lights cutting through the night like a warning. He pulled off a flawless doughnut, causing the crowd to erupt into cheers and groans. Geto, always laid-back, shot a grin through the window, nodding to the crowd as if he knew they couldn’t help but watch.

Gojo’s baby-blue Mazda RX-8 followed, sleek and custom-built with neon lights to match.

The music blaring from his sound system thumped through the crowd, matching the energy of the moment. His grin was wide, playful, and arrogant as always, revving the engine in sync with the others.

Even though the car was smooth, there was a cockiness to the way Gojo maneuvered it, showing off without ever needing to say a word.

Finally, the deep, resonating growl of Toji’s custom black 1979 Dodge Charger filled the air. The car was a beast, its white neon lights glowing against the dark asphalt like something out of a movie. Toji didn’t need to show off with tricks or fancy moves

his presence alone commanded the crowd’s attention. He pulled up slowly, letting the Charger’s low growl speak for itself. With a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, his eyes surveyed the crowd before landing, inevitably, on you.

For a brief moment, your gazes locked, and that familiar jolt shot through you. Toji, as always, was silent. His stare was intense, full of a tension that had been building between you for weeks, if not months.

His friends must have noticed it too because the way they looked at him told you they were aware of exactly where his attention was.

Sukuna chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling the smoke into the air. “Man, he’s been staring at her all night. If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least make a move,” he teased, his voice loud enough to carry across to you.

Geto leaned back against his car, lighting a joint, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Seriously, Toji. What’s the plan? You just gonna keep burning holes into her with your eyes or actually talk to her?”

Gojo, always one to stir the pot, rolled his eyes dramatically. “At this rate, I might make a move for you. She’s been standing there waiting for something—maybe not you, though.” He grinned mischievously, the teasing lilt in his voice making the others laugh.

Toji ignored them, his expression unreadable as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around him. His eyes never left you, even though he didn’t take a single step in your direction.

You could feel the heat of his stare, the intensity of it, but he stayed where he was. That was Toji—always watching, never approaching. It was as frustrating as it was intoxicating.

On your side, Mei Mei, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, nudged you sharply. “Are you two just going to stare at each other all night? Seriously, Y/n, make a move or something.”

You felt your face flush. “What? No, I’m not—he’s the one who—” You sputtered, but Mei Mei just smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Right,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And I guess you’re just staring at the floor, huh?”

Another one of your friends, Nobara, chimed in, laughing. “It’s like a bad teen romance or something. How long are you two going to keep doing this? Just go over there and talk to him, Y/n. You know he’s not gonna come to you first.”

Shoko just looked at you from the side of her eye and said "Please be for real."

You bit your lip, torn between the obvious tension and the stubborn refusal to make the first move. There was something maddeningly frustrating about Toji, but that was part of the pull. You both danced around each other, neither willing to close the distance, but neither able to walk away.

Across the lot, Sukuna and the others continued to heckle Toji, their laughter echoing in the space between you. “You know,” Sukuna called out, loud enough for both of your groups to hear, “this is getting a little sad. If neither of you is going to do something, maybe we should!”

Toji shot him a look, but he remained silent, jaw clenched. The tension between you two had reached the point where even the people around you were getting impatient, but still, neither of you moved. It wasn’t stubbornness—it was something deeper, a tension that felt like it would snap the moment one of you made the first move.

And yet, as frustrating as it was, there was something thrilling about the unspoken connection. The way Toji watched you with that quiet intensity, like he was waiting for the right moment to pounce. It kept you on edge, unsure of when the stalemate would end but knowing that when it did, it would be explosive.

For now, though, the night stretched on, with both your friends and his laughing at the spectacle you two were making. But underneath the teasing, the tension simmered, undeniable and unbreakable.

One thing was for sure: tonight, wouldn’t be the night the tension broke. But with every lingering glance, every unspoken word, you knew it was only a matter of time before one of you finally made a move. And when that happened, you had a feeling everything would change.

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago

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throttle | jjk - three

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - car sex (yay), talk of wet dreams, jaykay is down so incredibly bad, talk of buying a fuck toy just to cope with how much he wants YOU, reader on top, unprotected sex, huge cawk jk, missionary (in a car! very cramped!! but he does it for YOU <3), jk is chatty during sex (like, actually chatty), mentions of politics, mentions of drugs, the plot is plotting, jin is sexy, namjoon is a prick, jungkook is losing his god damn mind, OH and! the oc is given a nickname - she's CC (ceecee) he he he

word count - 7.5k

minors dni��// posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

There's a symbiotic nature to the way in which your bodies move together.

You're the moon, Jungkook your tides.

You work in tandem to turn the earth, finding peace in the rhythm that you provide one another. He'll reflect your beauty back at you, and you'll drag him to the shores; offer him respite that he didn't realise he needed until you came around.

It's a fantastical way to think about it, whimsical and ridiculous, but it's the only way that any justice is given to it.

Foolish, some may say, to compare a man to such a vast and complex ecosystem, but you think that maybe there are worlds inside of Jungkook that nobody will ever get to know. Some that maybe he isn't even aware of - but you want to be. You want to learn him. What makes him tick, what gets those dimples of his showing.

It's a fantasy. A what-if. A world of possibilities in the vessel of an impossibly handsome man, carved of stone, filled with feathers. Gentle to the touch, hard on your heart.

Funny thing is, Jungkook kind of regards you to be a fantasy, too. Make-believe. A story told to kids about princesses so pretty they're put to sleep at the tops of towers. The unattainable elite, who are somehow a friend to all, and an enemy to just one.

Jungkook knows better than to let himself indulge in the fallacy of you. It's a misconception he's dreamt up; a romanticisation of the reality that he loathes so much.

He isn't really sure why he's letting himself get so caught up with you. Maybe he just thinks he can keep you at arm's length if he keeps you as part of his imagination.

Which is ironic, given the way his arm is tight behind your back as your hips roll on top of his lap. Can't really get much closer than his cock being inside of you.

There's just something about the way you look at him - the little glances beneath your long lashes and the roll of your eyes - that makes him unable to stay away from you. He keeps coming back for more. Again and again.

You're like crack, he thinks. He's never done it, but he's seen enough poor sods trying to ween themselves of it. The withdrawals are akin to the way he feels when you're not around.

He's always been this way; attracted to the things he knows he shouldn't be. You're not the first forbidden fruit he's ever tried, but he's got a taste for them now. He doubts you'll be the last - unless you're the one that finally poisons him.

As he breathes you in, lips on yours, a hand in your hair, the other on your hip, Jungkook knows that you could, in fact, very well be his last - but he doesn't care.

You're still dressed, missing the intimacy of his skin sticking to yours, but neither of you could wait.

The backseats are icy cold, so your tights have just been pulled off, soaked underwear pushed to the side so that his cock - which has barely been set free from the confines of his trousers, still at the top of his thighs - can push up into you as quickly as possible.

The way his hands grip onto your ass makes up for the lack of skin on skin. He's in control, pulling you up and down his shaft like his own personal sex toy.

Maybe that's what he should do, instead - get himself a toy. A fleshlight. Or maybe even one of those fake torsos, the ones with a perfectly hairless cunt and a bolted-on pair of tits, so that he can mimic the way he grips onto your waist as he does it. That'd solve his problems. Stop him from screwing you. Maybe.

He could fuck himself into it; the silicone a pathetic replica of the silky feeling your walls provide him with, and spill his seed into it while he thinks about you. He could even circle his lips around the plump pussy, have his tongue toy with the labia, dipping down into the leaky hole he'd have stretched out with his thick cock. Lick it all up like a good boy, like he did the last time - but you wouldn't be there to swallow it. He'd have to eat his own cum, and that's just never as much fun.

Plus he remembers the ways your legs clamped around his head as you came, so tight he swore his skull could have cracked.

A sex toy would never have him fearing for his life (although he would die from embarrassment if Jimin ever found it), not the way that you do.

In his sheets, in his car, in his life in general; you're a threat to it. To him. And the acknowledgement of this gets his cock all hard and angry - engorged, flushed red at the tip, leaky - when he's alone and thinking about you at night.

Wet dreams had been reserved for his teenage years, but he'd woken up to damp sheets twice since he'd met you.

The first time, about three weeks ago, he was confused; the head of his cock, still a little firm, peeking out the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, a puddle of his semen gathering in his belly button. He'd poked at it a little, his sleepy yet deliriously horny brain not quite awake yet. Tracing his toned chest with his fingers tips, he ghosted his abs as delicately as he wanted to touch your body - and then he realised.

Or should that be remembered.

Remembered the pair of eyes he'd seen as he checked the rearview mirror in his dream. Didn't matter that the car was somehow driving along that little damp area where the sand meets the sea, or that he also seemed to have been wearing inflatable shoes. It was the eyes - sultry and subdued, sunset catching in your irises - that had his cock getting plump in his sleep.

'Show me all of you,' whispered in a hushed tone, and followed with 'I'll show you all of me, too,' was the thing that had his stiff cock oozing onto his abdomen at four in the fucking morning.

The next time, last week, was a little less dignified. He woke up to himself rutting against his mattress, laboured grunts muffled info his pillows, a wet patch growing midway down the bed. There had been a rag left too close to his bed, the smell of gasoline filling his senses, reminding him of you. Hardly his fault. Did also concern him that he was beginning to get conditioned to developing a semi at the mere scent of gasoline.

It was pretty clear to Jungkook by that point, that if he couldn't fuck you, he'd simply die.

Admittedly, he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

He also, thankfully, hadn't placed bets with Jimin on it, cause he'd have been out of fifty-thousand won if he had. Little fucker never gives Jungkook any benefit of the doubt. Always bets on him caving as quickly as he can. 'No willpower. All cock and balls, no brain.'

You're both Jungkook's proudest conquest and deepest darkest secret.

Can't be letting the boys know about you. Can't be sharing you with them. Can't so much as admit the fact he's been getting laid whenever they rib him for being celibate (which is a reach - he's only been out of action for, like, a month. Two, tops.).

If they could see the grip he had on your hips and the way your hand were locked behind his head, hair draping over his face, lips lost in his, they'd be asking for tips. Probably be wishing they had x-ray vision so they could see beneath the pooled clothes that protected both of your modesties.

But the windows of his car are clouded, the heat of the exchange between the pair of you preventing anyone from intruding. This is your safe place; with him.

He tightens his grip, but pulls away from your lips. You mirror his actions, curious to see why he'd be willing to leave such a warm embrace, your hips stalled by his hands. He's looking at you, blonde hair tangled over his eyes, the metal of his piercing reflecting tiny fragments of light that sneak into his windows. There's a silhouette to his face, beautiful and bold; the kind of art you'd find in the museum on the outskirts of town.

Maybe you'd go there together one day. Laugh at the pompous nature of it all, revel in the fact that you're both too churlish for all that shit. He'll make up stories for the people in the pictures, and you'll play along, narrating the lives of fictional people for funsies.

When you aren't looking, he'll take a picture of you in front of some drab minimalist piece. He won't show you it. Keep it to himself. A reminder of what once was; the beauty of a girl who could capture every ounce of his attention in a room of priceless masterpieces.

That was the thing that always puzzled Jungkook about artists; how did they know when to stop?

If the artist kept trying to blend out their muses' almond eyes, would they surely not become at one with their skin?

How much paint would saturate the canvas?

At which point would the brush stroke turn into nothingness?

He supposed the same could be said for the illicit embrace he was entangled in; how many kisses would it take for a casual fuck to turn into something a little more consequential?

If eyes are windows to the soul, would he be giving his up if he looked at you as he came?

At which point does a thumb in your mouth become a thumb stroking your blushed cheek, and does it really make as much of a difference as it feels like it should?

When you whine into his mouth, displeased at the way he isn't letting you bounce on his cock, he smiles, and knows that it's already crossed that line.

In fact, the lines are so blurred that 'indistinguishable' is the only appropriate way to describe them.

"I really did want to talk tonight," he hums quietly, pushing your hair back. It had been hot when he was covered in it, the scent of gasoline suffocating him, but he wants to look at you now. You hold up your wrist as he piles it all to the back of your head, his hips moving gently as he pulls the tie from your wrist and secures your hair in place.

"We still can," you say a little breathlessly. You're not exhausted, barely used any of your energy on the languid nature of the fuck you're indulging in, but the way he stretches you, cock thick and plump between your tight walls keeps you slightly out of breath.

"Now?"

"As good a time as any."

He smiles, pretty teeth resting on his bottom lip. Head shaking, a little bashful beneath the lunar light that peeks out from beyond the clouds, he lets his eyes rest on yours. They're inky, full of unspoken words, and you want to spend days studying them, just to decipher even a handful of words that make up who Jungkook is.

"Tell me about your life," he hums, head resting back against the headrest. There's an intimacy to this position. The way you're keeping his cock warm is something that's reserved for, well, no one. You've never done this before. Never shared anything other than your body during sex. It all feels foreign - but surprisingly, his stiff cock inside of you doesn't. "Your dream job as a kid. Your nicknames."

You smile, now, and the way your diaphragm tenses has his cock throbbing. "Vet. Popstar. The usual. One that stuck? Lawyer. And I never had a nickname. My family weren't really like that," you say, before rolling your hips, scared that the mundane talk would make him soft again.

Jungkook stills you. Looks at you with an expression you don't really recognise. His eyes are all hard, the dimple above his lips present as if he's thinking. A miracle, really, given most men's inability to produce a single thought during sex.

"You're smart," he assesses. Thinks that girls who dream of becoming lawyers always are.

"Was an overworked teenager. Burnt out. Flunked," you shrug, failing to disclose exactly why you flunked.

He nods, that fierce contemplative gaze still lacing his features. The pads of his fingers are delicate as he pushes your skirt a little further up your waist. His eyes are still on yours as his thumb hooks beneath the lace of the panties you're still wearing. He presses against your clit. It's only a little pressure. Just enough to have you gasping.

"Could always retake your exams now," he says, as if he isn't toying with your pussy like it's his favourite arcade game. Slow and steady. Easy does it. His eyes are wide. Doe-like. Incapable of committing any crimes, it seems. Innocent. "You're smart enough to do it, CC."

Your lips curl to the side slightly, head tilting, ignoring all of what he said except for those two little syllables at the end. "CC?"

"Everyone deserves a nickname."

"And CC?" You laugh, strands of hair falling loose, framing your face. Jungkook was right. You are a work of art.

"CC," he smiles, leaning a little closer to steal a tiny kiss from your lips. "As in, LMCC."

Brows raised, he's got you curious. "LMCC?"

"Little Miss Clutch Control," he grins, so proud of himself that you can't help but smile, too.

The pressure of his thumb on your clit gets firmer, and Jungkook lets his smile drop as your pout rests ajar, a small moan shaking from your very core. There's an intimacy to be found in the way Jungkook can procure such radiant happiness and sinful lust from you within seconds of one another.

He's harvesting for diamonds again. They're not in your eyes tonight. It's too dark for that. But they are in the hushed moans that let him know he's got a hold on you that no one else has. You could talk all the shit you liked about his clutch control, but if you even attempted to argue with him about his clit control, he'd just laugh.

"Thought you wanted to talk?" You say, though it comes out as a gasp. He's got a rhythm, but he isn't moving his hips. He's just feeling your walls tense around him.

"I do," he says with a shit-eating grin. He's too hot, you decide. So hot that you could never be with him, not properly. You'd probably lose your mind fearing he'd cheat. Boys that look like him always do. "Favourite food?"

The casual nature of his tone is a challenge. One that you accept. Even if your thighs are shaking.

"Don't have one."

"Any pets?"

"Family had a dog."

"Name?"

"Bingsu."

Jungkook is so pretty when he laughs. Cheeks all plump, the tip of his nose shiny from the moonlight his car is being bathed in. It's in his eyes, too, twinkling as if it's joining in on the joke - but of course, it is. You are the moon to his tides. Your happiness, for the moments of which you spend entangled in one another, is intertwined.

"Very original," he teases. He knew at least three girls who had called their pet rabbits Bingsu. Some cats, too.

"I was like 10," you defend. "Fuck off."

You say, as if you arent mounted on top of him.

"Favourite position in bed?" He questions, lifting your skirt so that he can see where your pussy meets his cock. He lets a small pool of spit gather in his mouth, before slowly releasing it, aiming for your clit. He spreads it around with his thumb, getting your pussy all nice and wet as he feigns indifference to the way your moans increase.

"How do you go from pets to sex?" You question, finding his method of enquiry maddening.

"Dog," he tilts his head from side to side. "Doggy. Very easily. Answer it."

"Missionary."

It's a lie. You just want to see how he'll react.

"Boring."

"Intimate."

"Old people position."

"Didn't we say we're already married? Perfect for us."

"We're still in the honeymoon period - and don't give me that bollocks about intimacy. I'd say that this is pretty fucking intimate," he protests, thinking that having you on his lap, warming his fat, leaky cock is far more intimate than any rendition of missionary he's ever had.

"And I'd say missionary is only boring if you don't like the person you're fucking," you bite back, just to be difficult. "I could force you to give up all other positions for lent, and I bet you'd still be dying to fuck me every single night, regardless of whether or not it was missionary."

"Yeah, you're right," he admits. Doesn't even find missionary that boring. Quite likes it actually. and he'd happily fuck you for forty days and forty nights. "I prefer morning sex, though."

"Fine," you shrug. "Missionary morning, noon and night."

"Three times a day?"

"Can you handle it?"

"Can you?"

"Only one way to find out."

"You're on," he grins. What he wouldn't give to be buried in your pussy three times a day. "Next question. Political stance?"

"Liberal," you respond instantly. "Left. Whatever you wanna call it. Also, this is terrible dirty talk."

"Good," he nods, as his thumb begins to brush at the hood that protects your sensitive nub, pushing it from side to side. Your toes fucking curl. "I don't fuck conservatives. And also? I can feel you leaking around the base of my shaft. You're still turned on, dirty talk or not."

You ignore his winning remark.

"What if I'd have said I was conservative?"

"You're on my dick in a car down a back alley of Daegu. You're not conservative in any sense of the word."

"But if I had?"

"I'd have probably carried on," he concedes. "Hate fuck."

"You're into that?"

"Not really."

"No?"

"I fuck girls 'cause I like them, CC. I don't really get those straight dudes who always go on about how much they hate women. Surely just fuck dudes instead? Regardless, if I'm fucking someone, it's cause I like 'em."

He says it without a single care in the world. Yet you feel like your whole entire world is imploding, in the best possible way.

"So you like me?" You question, all coy and a little shy. The tip of his cock leaks a little precum into you.

"My dick is in you, no?"

Touché.

And then your morbid curiosity makes an unwelcome appearance.

"When did you last like a girl enough to stick your dick in her?"

Jungkook laughs.

"Last night."

You're about to be offended. He can see it, the way your brows contort, a scowl forming - and then you realise. The smile you give him is sweet, but doesn't last for that long. He'd avoided the question, and you still want the answer. "Before that."

"About two months ago."

"She better than me?"

"I've only fucked you once. Not really a fair comparison."

Disappointing response.

"I'm fucking you right now," you remind him. "The correct answer was to say no."

"Actually," he argues, because of course he does. It's what the pair of you were born to do. "The correct answer is that you're incomparable - but the answer that you want? The one that means anything?" He pauses. Stops toying with your pussy, and pulls you in for a shallow kiss. It's fleeting, but enough. "The way I've been thinking about you doesn't compare. Been going insane thinkin' 'bout you, CC. Wrapped those pretty little legs of yours around my head and have been embedded in my brain ever since. Making me in-fucking-sane."

He's right. It is the answer you wanted.

"So stop asking me questions and fuck me," you laugh. "I've never met a more confusing yet straightforward man."

He ignores your statement, though he doesn't disagree with the sentiment.

"Am I comparable to your last fuck?" He asks, taunting you. He doesn't want to know, not really. But you asked first. He wants to see if there's a reason why; if maybe you're still harbouring some sort of attachment just like you're accusing him of having.

The way your body gets a little tense in his grasp confirms this. He notices. Hard not to when he's trapped inside of you. Thinks it's rich of you to grill him in the way you did, only to clearly be projecting your own feelings onto him.

But there's a look in your eyes that he doesn't like, now. The moon is hiding behind a cloud again, stealing the diamonds from his line of sight.

"I'm sorry," he says. The smile that had been on his face when he'd asked the question is gone, and he's looking at you like he's truly seeing you; the eyebrow hairs that need shaping, the pores that need cleansing and the flyaway hairs that land on the wrong side of your parting.

"It's okay," you say, because you should have expected it. The question was fair game.

Jungkook knocks his head to the side briefly as if to say 'no', but chooses against it. Instead, he pulls you in closer to him and kisses you tenderly, his hips pulsing upwards beneath your weight. His hands are in your hair, tongue in your mouth, and he's reminded again why the answer to his question doesn't matter.

"Let me fuck you how you like it, baby," he mumbles into your plump lips, his tongue flicking against the tip of yours as he speaks.

You question what he means as he grips onto your waist, elevating himself a little but keeping himself snug inside of you. He turns, restricted by the tight space in the back of his car. The movements are a little awkward, but it's endearing how he gets you on your back, sprawled lengthways across the back seat.

Your legs are bent at the knees, a foot resting on the ledge of the window while the other perches on the centre console. You're spread for him, but he can't devour the beauty of you blooming in such a way, thanks to the cramped room. He shuffles his jeans down a little, just beneath his ass, and strokes his cock; pumps it once, twice, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

The position is gonna be hellish for him, his backseat too narrow to really fit the both of you, but he figures if he hooks your foot resting on the window ledge over his shoulder instead, then it should be okay.

And so he does just that. You're surprised you can still bend like that, but you're also pretty sure your bones would turn to jelly if Jungkook asked them to. There's nothing that you wouldn't do to keep him close like this.

"Thought this was boring?" You hum, knowing that it doesn't really compare to standard missionary.

He's stroking the tip of his cock against your folds - and then he sinks back into you, a laboured moan hanging off the cushion of his bottom lip before he presses it into yours. His hips don't really waste much time, fucking into you slow and deep.

"It is," he groans, before hooking your other leg over his shoulder, too. You're a little tighter like this, the grip your pussy has on his cock akin to heaven on earth. "But you're not."

You go to say something, but he can feel you smiling against his lips so he tells you just to kiss him, instead. He rolls his hips into yours, resting himself a little deeper every single time. The tepid air in his car wraps around the pair of you like satin ribbon, tied in a pretty little bow where your bodies meet.

It's a gift, how well you work together. A blessing. A curse, too, but that only concerns Jungkook for now, and honestly, he isn't thinking about it. He's just thinking about the way your hair smells, and how much he wants to suffocate in your scent.

When Jungkook cums, the weight that eases off his shoulders settles in your stomach instead. It traps the movement of the chime that hasn't stopped ringing since he first stepped foot into the gas station that evening. He moans into your lips, tells you how well you take him, how much he likes it, likes you. "Think I'll die if we ever stop hooking up."

He asks if you came, but knows that you didn't. He remembers the way you felt the last time it happened - and as incredible as it had been to have your pussy wrapped around his cock, he knew that it hadn't throbbed in the same way that it had last time.

You shake your head, but you're already moving to sit up. There's something refreshing about your honesty. It's not that he doesn't want to make you cum, it's just that he's getting a bit of post-nut clarity and is highly aware that Namjoon could be around the corner. City isn't that big. Especially not this side of the river.

"Too cold," you smile, to which Jungkook responds with a small, confused hum. "Can't cum when I'm cold. Your car is fucking freezing, Kook."

The way you say his name has him wanting to blast the aircon just so he can get you warm enough to finish all over his tongue - but then you yawn, and he feels bad for keeping you out late after your shift. You're cute when you yawn.

Cute how your hand curls, eyes scrunching up tightly, shoulders hunching and then lowering back down again. He likes your shoulders. They're sloped, and petite, and a far cry from his. So dainty. Everything about you is. The way you look, your pretty lips, the earrings you wear. So pretty, and perfect, and in this moment, his.

Doesn't want the moment to end.

"Come back to mine," he offers, in a bid to elongate that feeling. "Stay the night."

"Again?" You ask, and your tone of surprise has him laughing.

"What? It's not like I'm asking you to marry me, C."

"I'd say no, anyways," you bicker back without even thinking about it.

"Thank God," Jungkook grins, rummaging about to find a packet of tissues he's sure he put in his car at some point.

He'd hidden them up after Jimin had teased him about having car sex like a fucking teenager, but Jungkook had waaaay too much pride in his car to do that.

The tissues are for when he gets greasy food from gas stations. Can't be getting the leather all fucked up, not after he spent so much getting it reupholstered.

"Ah, here," he pulls them from the back of the passenger seat and passes them over to you. Apparently, his mind has changed on the whole 'having too much pride to fuck in his car' thing. "Nah, I just-"

He pauses. Shrugs. Does his trousers back up, and doesn't look at you as you sort out the mess between your legs.

"I liked having you there last night. I'd like to have it again."

He glances over his shoulder, to find you looking at him in the very way he was afraid of. You look fond.

But so does he as he smiles at you.

"Plus, I kinda owe you an orgasm now, and my apartment is way warmer than this tin can."

You tuck the tissues back into the now-empty packet and scrunch your nose up, trying to fight a smile. He doesn't realise, but Jungkook does the same thing back.

Your legs hook over the centre console, and you plonk yourself back down in the passenger seat.

"I do actually wanna sleep tonight," you tell him.

Jungkook smiles, popping open the rear door, making his way back around to the driver's seat. The leather is freezing when his body falls into it, and he starts to realise just how cold you must have been all exposed like that.

He wants to get you home quicker than ever. Shower you in the warmth of his kisses, use his fingers like strike anywhere matches along your skin, igniting fires from the tips of your toes to the very centre of your core.

He'll get you warm.

Get you coming undone. Get you all sleepy and cute. Get you dreaming the sweetest dreams as he holds you close through the night.

"Me too," he says as the engine starts up, his motor purring almost as pleasantly as you do. And perhaps he's just a little cum-drunk, and doesn't realise the weight of his words as he knocks the car into first and heads in the direction of his apartment, humming softly: "Let's get you home."

────────────

When Jungkook wakes up at four in the morning, he's hot. Cheeks a little puffy, hands clammy, tongue dry. Hot.

Your lips are pursed and pouted, firmly shut, body curled up next to his. He wouldn't normally complain, but his arm is trapped beneath your body, and so he's fixed in position next to a girl who burns like the heat of a thousand matches. He'll get scalded, skin tarnished, branded by you, and yet he can't bring himself to disturb you.

He reaches for his phone to check the time, and you hum softly in your sleep. Wonders if you're dreaming; if it's about him. Hopes you are; hopes it is.

His voice is low as he berates himself, whispering to 'get a grip', rubbing his free hand over his face and pushing it back into his hair. It's a little brittle, in need of a deep condition, the bleach damage a small price to pay for the anonymity his hair gave him - until, of course, it became his trademark.

He thinks about cutting it all off sometimes, but he's got a Samson complex. Fears he'll lose his strength without it. Wonders if one day you'll be his Delilah. Kind of already feels like you are.

You would never cut his hair off, though, purely for selfish reasons. Mainly 'cause the way it frames his face makes him look like art; but also cause you like having something to hold onto when things get a little rough (though his ass is also ideal for that).

He likes the way you always play with it. Knows you think it's a little sexy, all wavy (unintentional, just fried) and long. The roots are as dark as his eyes, though.

You romanticise it, in a way. It's like his true self is peeking through, and it makes you think that maybe one day you'll get to know who that is.

Jungkook isn't so sure.

In fact, he knows you won't. Sucks, but such is life.

It's not that he doesn't want you to know when his birthday is, or his favourite spot along the river to watch the world go by, it's just that it's asking for trouble. He gets into enough of that alone.

Still, he likes it when he's not alone. Likes it when you're with him - and so he falls back asleep, the beating of your heart soothing him into his REM cycle like the white noise he normally listens to instead.

It's gone seven by the time he wakes up again.

He reaches out, strokes the mattress where you'd once been and sighs. It's empty, though a little warm. There's silence in his apartment, and your bra isn't hooked over the end of his bed anymore, so he knows you're gone. Probably just didn't want to wake him.

He's cold, now. Hates the fuckin' cold. Isn't made for the winters. His lack of body fat does a terrible job at keeping him insulated through the cold nights, and heating is a luxury that he can't really afford these days, not with the sheer amount of gas he funnels into that goddamn car of his.

You had been a welcome, warm addition.

He'd teased you about it, told you it was the only reason he'd invited you over when you cursed about how bloody cold it was - but then you reminded him that you couldn't cum cold, and it had him flicking on the electric fan heater quicker than you could click your fingers.

Bleary-eyed from the morning sun, his hair a haphazard mess falling over them, Jungkook makes his way to his bathroom. He trips on his jeans in the process, forgetting the way you'd practically stripped him of his clothes the night before. Insatiable, that's what you are - and he loves it.

There's no coordination in his body as he walks, and he imagines a shower is the only thing that will really wake his body up - but there's no point. He needs to be out of his apartment within the next ten minutes. He's already running late.

His tardiness is noticed by everyone by the time he gets to the boxing club that morning.

"Here he is," Jimin grins as Jungkook avoids eye contact with every single fucker in the room. He slings his bag down and chucks his jacket on top, mask following. The room is cold, Old Man Kang not one for wasting precious profits on heaters.

Cold? He'd say. Train harder.

"Sorry I'm late," Jungkook mumbles, head hung a little low, throwing his body down next to Jimin, into the empty seat of a tatty sofa that sits in the corner of the rest area.

Jungkook can feel Namjoon's eyes on him. They're as cold as the ice that's melting on the roads outside, a little bit of spring sunshine thawing what once was frozen. He twists his neck, bones cracking at the top of his spine. Rolls his shoulders back. Postures himself correctly - and only then does Jungkook look at Namjoon.

"Where'd you disappear to last night?" Jungkook taunts him. "One minute you were tailing me, the next?" He clicks his fingers and sticks his bottom lip out, eyes all wide and faux-friendly.

They're the kind of eyes that remind you of the summer before you started secondary school; warm custard on a sponge cake, served up in a yellow cafeteria. A little bit of colour, hundreds and thousands sprinkled on top, but overwhelmingly yellow.

All yellow.

The school regulation sundress, the frills around the top of your socks. The highlighter stains on your fingers, and the rubber band charity bracelet worn around the wrists of every single boy in your class because it was 'trendy', not because any of them actually understood the concept of charity yet.

Yellow; canary, butter, midsummer Daegu sun. Lemon kombucha, mustard, and honey, too. In some lights, maybe even gold.

It curious how eyes so new, so foreign to you, seem to harbour memories of childhood that you thought had been lost. If not the memories, at least, the feelings; the notion that after the sunshine fades, nothing will ever be the same. Jungkook is the summer before secondary school, the final song of your favourite bands' encore, the subway doors closing at 11:57 pm. He's the end of something good, familiar, safe - but nothing great ever came from safe, now, did it?

His eyes are nostalgic, served up with a side of the unknown. Promises. That's what they're full of. Or is it potential? You're not sure, but you're actively choosing to be naive to the fact that it all seems too good to be true.

You don't know him like the boys in Old Man Kang's boxing club do.

Jungkook's void of colour in there. His eyes are black when they look at Namjoon. There's no honey in them.

They're bitter like black treacle, his disdain thick as it oozes over last nights competitor.

"Bastard lights," Namjoon shrugs, his indifference not convincing enough to come off as authentic. "Bad timing. Those cars were all coming from CGV. The last film of the night had just finished. Wasn't expecting the rush."

Jungkook holds back a snort. Typical of Namjoon to go and check the fucking cinema listings, just so that he had something else to blame his poor performance on.

"I mean, I made it through the lights on time," Jungkook smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. Treacle drips from his whole entire being. It's sticky, and it coats every single surface in the room. The floor, the ring, the people. All covered in the heaviness. Everyone can feel it; how uncomfortable the empty silence is.

"Alright, ladies," Seokjin breaks the tension.

Shoulders broad, shirt discarded by the punching bag he's spent the morning working out his frustrations on, there's a sheen to his skin. It's damp. Salty, presumably, though no one in the room would dare lick his torso to check.

It's as if he's got sodium chloride crystals on his chest, glimmering when the light pours in through a tall window to the rear of the building.

His muscles are made from clay, carved out so intricately that Jungkook wonders why he bothers training himself so hard when he'll never look like his mentor. Impossible.

He's glad Seokjin has never stepped foot in the GS25 you earn your keep from. Thinks it will impact the way you look at him. Thinks maybe you'll start picturing Seokjin's face, instead of his own, whenever he takes you from behind in the future.

The thought unsettles him. Has him adjusting his legs, repositioning his cock so no one notices the fact it's a little plump now.

What? He was thinking about fucking you. Bound to happen. He's only human.

Male to be specific, with a libido to rival that of a bonobo.

Sometimes, Jimin likes to joke that Jungkook's genealogy must be closer to them than it is to his own grandfather. Even made him watch a documentary about it once. Only difference between Jungkook and his distant primate relatives is that Jungkook prefers to keep his sex monogamous.

He's made mistakes before; learnt the hard way that in order to keep things messy in bed, emotions have to run clean.

"Kook?" Seokjin interrupts his thoughts. He hadn't even realised he'd zoned out, but everyone's looking at him now, thankfully none of them noticing the semi in his pants. "You listening?"

"Huh?" He mumbles. "Sorry, was thinking. What were you saying?"

"We're swapping you out. You've been working well -" Namjoon scoffs in the corner, but Seokjin ignores him "- but I want to see if Park can get things done a little quicker."

Oh, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. This will not do.

"No!" Jungkook shouts, before realising how out of pocket his tone was. Cringe. "I mean, uh. I just. I've been making good progress. She's a tough cunt to crack."

"Charming."

"Fuck off, Jimin - see, that's what I mean," Jungkook begins to over-explain his outburst. "She'd call me a cunt right back. She likes my sense of humour. It just takes a while for her to open up. Sending Park in would just put us back at square one all over again."

"Yeah, but what's better?" Namjoon interjects. "Square one, going nought to sixty, or square two, still, only going five miles per hour."

"I'm on, like, square ten, asshole," Jungkook spits, incredibly childishly. If he wanted to, he could get specific. Talk about a different game that requires squares. Bases. Tell them all that he hits home runs, and that he's getting pretty consistent.

But if he tells them that, he'll be stopped from playing the game altogether.

"Sure," Namjoon just smirks.

Jungkook runs his tongue along his cheek, and looks at Seokjin, nostrils all flared, lips pouty.

"Calm down, Kookie," he says, and even though it's a little patronising, it has the desired effect. Jungkook respects him too much to fight against him. "I'll give you a week - and then you're swapping out with Park, alright? Get me something good. Something we can work with."

"I've got something," Jungkook shrugs. It isn't much but it at least confirms something they've theorised. "Asked her about politics last ni- last time I went in for gas."

"Casual kiosk discussion, seems legit."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up, Namjoon?" Jimin shoots him a glare.

"See, this is what I mean," Jungkook grumbles. "I can ask her shit like this 'cause I've built up a rapport with her. We talk." Fuck a little bit, too, but who's keeping tabs? "She won't be like that with Jimin."

She better not be.

Seokjin nods. He accepts what Jungkook is saying. Knows he's right - but knows that the lack of results is making his leadership look weak to Old Man Kang. "Carry on. What did she tell you?"

"She doesn't subscribe to her father's idea of politics. Didn't name drop him - never does - but she said she's left-wing."

"Performative," Namjoon scoffs, proving that no, he doesn't ever shut the fuck up.

"Or maybe she's the black sheep," Jimin counters. "The name change, the distancing herself from him-"

"Is all standard witness protection shit," Namjoon argues before Jimin can even finish making his point. "Her daddy is keeping her hidden so that he can keep her safe during the election campaign. Remember the amount of assassination threats he got during the last one? "

There's back and forth between them all, assessing how you ended up behind a gas station kiosk without a single link tying you back to your father. Most photographed man in the city, and yet you've been out of the pictures for a good three years, now.

The four of them never would have known who you are, or how expensive that pretty little head of yours is, had it not been for Old Man Kang and the job he'd given them all a couple months back.

Jungkook didn't exactly lie when he told you he was between jobs. He's just got a little something part time going on, too.

"Well, how about this?" Jungkook interrupts them, cutting their discussion about you short. It was annoying him. None of them know you. Not like he does. He's the only one qualified to have an opinion on the matter. "Keep me on the job. I'll be able to find out far quicker than any of you fuckers."

Seokjin concedes. Accepts that Jungkook is the best bet they've got. Dismisses them all, but keeps an eye on Jungkook as he pulls the neck of his shirt over his head and tosses it down onto his bag.

His composure is cool as he begins to wrap up his palms, but he's nibbling at his lips. Nose all twitchy like a bunny - and when he gets the bag he'll be working on, instead of testing the weight, he just hangs his head. Rests his forehead against it. Holds it. Taps it gently with his knuckles, before whispering a sharp 'fuck'.

But then he's bouncing on his feet, squaring up, getting ready, as if he hasn't just very visibly gone through an existential crisis, of sorts.

He would ask Jungkook what's going on, but there'd be no point. He's as good at lying as he is at throwing punches - and he's got the best left hook on the team. Doesn't use it much - but never misses when he does. Lies? Yeah, he uses them a lot more.

In fact, he's so good at fibbing, that Seokjin half thinks he doesn't even realise he's doing it a lot of the time. He cleans up the ink of his bad choices with white lies, and before he knows it, everything in Jungkook's life is grey.

"Posture straight," Seokjin calls over to him. "Don't lose your form."

Jungkook grunts a response. Does as he's told. Stays in the boxing club long enough to convince them all that it doesn't feel like he's having a heart attack. Chest all tight and shit. Lungs twisting beneath his ribs.

He grabs his stuff as quickly as he can without looking like a mad man on a dash, and locks himself in his car, staring into the oncoming traffic. Hands on the steering wheel, his chest heaves. Up and down, in and out. Contracting and expanding in all different directions.

The soiled packet of tissues is still on his backseat, your hairband looped around his gearstick. Your perfume spices the air, sweet vanilla and black cherry. He can only smell your hair when his nose is nestled in it.

Bizarrely, thinking about it doesn't make his heart race like it normally does. It calms it instead.

Jungkook whines. Stomps his feet a little in his footwell, then rests his forehead on the wheel.

"I'm so fuckin' screwed."

────────────

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

368 notes · View notes

haitanology · 8 months ago

Text

big-shot ; hanma x fem!reader

warning: smut (mdni) ! oral (f receiving), face-sitting, degradation, sub!hanma, meandom!reader …

!!! note: this is a chapter of a wayyy bigger fic, with very heavy plot and lots of other characters as love interests. you can find it on wattpad under HAITANITE or ao3 as haitanology

Flickering lights and loud music, getting lost between many bodies swaying to the rhythm —invasive, breaking skin into light sweat.

A perfect formula for the remedy to a chilly summer night.

2017's been treating you well. You are successful, you can buy anything you want and have people answer to you in seconds.

Just like always. A fact meant to be.

Call it destiny, if you will.

Chugging down the rest of your drink, you leave it somewhere you won't remember and make your way to the dancing mass.

Your eyes dart around the room, flicking between different colored shapes that jump and blend in with the dark based club.

You don't spot one that stands out. Tall, a brooding presence who shakes you up by a mere appearance.

Your body begins to follow the flow of the beat, the song wrapping around you as your tongue recalls the lyrics. The words are lost among many, yet your hips keep syncing to the music, closing your eyes and leaving the rest to your heart.

"Your friend's looking for you outside." Somebody whispers behind you, breaking the symphony for he stops you from enjoying yourself.

Not taking a single glance around, leaving the male voice to his own doings, you become one with the crowd as you look for the exit.

Unnoticed, you leave the club.

You've never been there, ever.

A lone car rests outside, parked and tinted dark. You make your way with steady feet, opening the passenger's door and closing it just as quick. The car starts up, carrying the thud and the clicking of your seatbelt along with it.

"You know I can't be seen in public." Hanma's deep voice, playfulness lost with the years, comments.

From the corner of your eye, you watch as he drives with one hand, staring straight ahead. You rest your elbow on the side, supporting your head with your hand; you take a deep breath.

"I know." Your eyes dart to the view from the window, Tokyo's nightlife carried by its luminosity. "I also don't care."

Disinterest follows tiredness, just as silence follows death.

"I don't get why you wanted to meet up," He speaks up against the emptiness you've left. His next words are all over eachother, most unrecognizable. "not that I'm complaining."

Punishment follows sin, the same way sin follows punishment.

He sighs when he doesn't receive an answer. His fingers hold tightens around the steering wheel, the same way his free hand does over your leg.

Sex follows passion, much like passion follows desire.

"Y'know," The strained chuckle he heaves punctures through his chest. "I enjoy myself when I'm with you, I have fun, but it's different."

But does love always follow desire? The same way desire always follows love.

"Different, how?" You follow up, words longer than they should be. Hanma doesn't care, almost grinning at the sound of your voice.

Though, it's only a small smile.

Many things follow love, but love doesn't necessarily have to follow anything. Instead, emptiness fills in for the role; following after them.

Ironically.

"Different than Kisaki."

You grimace, lips twitching at the thought.

"Good," Tapping your chin with a single finger, you blink once. "glad to not compare to that weird ass specimen."

The car stops in front of one of the many business buildings in Tokyo. It stands high with might, most lights turned off due to the recent hours.

Hanma's hand crawls up to your nape, staying there. He turns his head to yours, violet eyes sizing you up before he closes them.

"I don't like when you talk about him like that." He gulps, violet now overshadowed by the darkness of his pupil. "But I'll let it go, just for tonight."

Love follows people, but love doesn't follow you.

Interest does.

Is this why you find yourself in Hanma's spacious apartment, lost in the contact of his lips against yours —tongue following a pattern with his own— as you bask in the slight roughness that comes with his kisses?

Yes, indeed.

In the best way he can, Hanma attempts to lead you to his bedroom between guttered groans that leave his throat everytime your lips move down to his neck.

He heaves a sigh, arm sliding across your waist and bringing you closer to his chest. Your ear presses against his heart, hearing the rapid bumping grow exponentially, in the same way his erection begins to poke your thigh.

Straying your eyes away from his body, they widen at an ajar door that hides an office inside. The light in them glows, your smirk stretching across your face before you are pulled inside Hanma's bedroom.

The cold contact of Hanma's fingers ghosting over your back, break your trance. They grasp your nape, tugging your face closer to his own, his breath caressing your parted lips.

Eyes set on his lips, you tilt your head, ready to taste them again. When Hanma leans in, closing his eyes at the touch of his nose with yours, his breath is cut short.

He gulps, finding himself laying on his bed with you on his lap. Both of your hands rest on his chest, one moving to grip his chin and bring it closer to you.

"I don't care how much power you have over Kisaki's lackeys." You mutter, turning his face around so you do so close to his ear. Your eyes narrow, fingers closing on his face. "You aren't gonna tell me what to do."

Your hand feels the vibration through his chest as Hanma chuckles. Passing one hand through his hair, observing the painted 'Sin' afterwards, his lips form a close smile.

Voice deep as ever, you stay still once you see the gentle smile that carves Hanma's expression. He calls you over, both his index and middle fingers massaging your cheek.

"It's you." He tugs on your bottom lip, dragging it down, fingers following a path to your collarbone. "If it's you, you can do all that you want to me. Use me, for all I care."

Hanma's brows shoot up, his fingers now moving through your trembling lips. His eyes burn, his entire body does, hips bucking into your clothed cunt as his clothes begin to strain him.

"I love being with you," He whispers, helping your hands undo his suit. "it's always so fun."

Words fall on your deaf ears, taking a deep breath before trying to forget who it is you are using.

Your chest hurts, it's tense. You purse your lips, shaking your head unnoticed by Hanma's shut eyes. Your mind shows you the office you've passed by, yet the light in your eyes only dims.

Gritting your teeth, taking Hanma's clothes off gets aggresive, throwing them somewhere along with your own. Taking his cock in your hand, you squeeze it, hearing a yelp from him.

"Shut up!" You bark out, same hand stroking his dick at a rapid pace, not giving him time to word out his thoughts. "Stop talking, just close your useless fucking mouth."

A drop of cold sweat runs down the side of your face, your mind shut as Hanma's groaning and cursing plays a loop in your brain.

"That's it..." You coo out, your voice barely audible. Not that he's paying attention to it, busy with the much needed attention you are paying to his cock, throbbing in delight.

A breathless laugh escapes your lips, smile growing.

"Stop making me feel pity for you, good job."

Swiping your thumb over his tip, wet from the precum coating it, you ignore Hanma's pleads to slow down. You keep pumping, eyes unfocused and pupils dilated.

"M'gonna..." Hanma calls out, biting his lip. "M'gonna cum soon."

Managing to listen to Hanma's slurred words, you blink and your hand stops, moving away from his pulsating cock.

"Huh?!" Hanma's eyes snap open, your hand over his mouth.

You glare down at him, lightly palming his dick, playing with it on your hand.

"You're dumb." Slapping his face without force as you utter each word, you taunt him. "So fucking dumb, it's unbelievable."

"Please—" With a single move of your index finger, now lifted, he stops. You place it over his lips, face hovering over his.

A moan suddenly tries to leave his shut mouth, eyes rolling back at the soft friction of your pussy over his cock. Itching for more, it twitches.

"How many girls have been in the position you are in, with you treating and using them like pathetic little whores?" You question, not expecting an answer; humming when you don't get one.

You take his hand, punishment staring right back at you. You raise it, slapping his face with it, not measuring the strength you used.

"You thought it wouldn't come back to bite you in the ass?"

Hanma's breath grows erratic, eyes close to sparkling at the sight of your pussy over his face.

"At least your mouth will be useful this way."

Unconsciously, his hands move to grab your waist, leading you down to him. A content sigh escapes from your lips when his tongue licks your slit, uttering a silent moan at the touch of your clit and the tip of his nose.

You close your eyes, your mind blank as Hanma's hands glide down to your ass, gripping it while his mouth works on your cunt —just like clockwork.

Grabbing the blonde and black strands of his hair, you tug on them when his nose hits the spot. His tongue laps at your folds, eating and sucking you out as if it's his last meal.

You lean your head back, Hanma's quiet mewling going straight to your pussy, causing you to bite down a whimper.

"I hate that you're so good." You hiss out, hips beginning to rock back and forth on his face —craving more of his tongue lashing out. "Fuck!"

A thrust of his tongue has you cursing out his name, thighs enclosing his head between them. He doesn't care, though, continuing to play with his mouth on your cunt —kissing it, worshipping you.

While your mind, now cleared out from the shock of Hanma's moves, doesn't let you forget why you are here; Hanma's only ongoing thought is how godly you taste, how he doesn't want to stop.

He's pussy drunk. Utterly and completely.

The tip of his tongue licking every crevice, moving a path through the slit to the clit, estimulated by his nose once you move in a certain way. It's all enough to send you over the edge, thighs closing in farther as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Soon enough, Hanma's lapping at your folds like a cat, tasting your orgasm as his sturdy hands help you ride it out. He licks you clean, audibly gulping and leaving an open mouthed kiss on your cunt, letting you move back to his lap.

Through your panting, you barely listen to Hanma's sultry tone. His tongue passes through his lips, getting all the cum he can get, smiling at you.

"Best meal of my life." His blown out pupils take a look at your naked body that he didn't get to see before, salivating at the sight. "Did I do a good job?"

You run a hand down your face, covering the lower part with your palm. Your head's pounding, actively playing thoughts like a broken record.

There's a scratch, and you blink, hiding the light coat of water that covers your eyes. You curse, averting them away from Hanma's awaiting face.

"No, no you didn't." You take his hands, leading them away from your body and holding them together by the wrists. "It's infuriating..."

The words die out in your throat, mutter lost before Hanma can hear it.

"Wha—What?" He breathes out, panicked eyes growing bigger at the clicking of your tongue. Hanma can't stop the loud moan that breaks out of him when you sink down on his cock, shouting at him through short puffs.

"You're so fucking useless, it makes me sick!"

Hanma can't process what you spat out to him, busy writhing from the pleasure that rains down on him with the way you're riding him.

A single hand stops his own from moving, Hanma perfectly capable of breaking that hold, yet he can't. Your hips move up and down, rocking on him and sending a knot tempted to break at the slightest move through his body, washing down on him.

"S'good..." He mumbles, tongue poking out from his lips. "You're s'fucking good, keep—"

You moan when his tip hits the perfect spot, closing your mind from any intrusive thoughts.

Hanma joins you, begging for more.

"Faster, please—" Though you can't hear his pleads, nor the way he tells you he's about to cum, deprived of it throughout the entire night.

You are in bliss, squeezing your eyes shut and following the same pattern, letting the tip of his painfully throbbing cock send you to a state where you can't think, where your brain doesn't take over.

You keep chasing after your release, ignoring Hanma's still hips, who have stopped meeting your own; leaving you full of his cum, legs trembling before you from the harsh orgasm he's having.

You don't give him time to recuperate, bask in the aftermath, mercilessly pounding on his now softening cock to keep going. Hanma's brows furrow, the ache in his body increasing with your pace.

"S—stop, hey..." He trails off, not able to pronunciate correctly due to the fog that covers his brain. "Please, I—I can't take it."

Hanma's eyes widens when his hands are free, your hand now wrapped around the lower part of his face, not letting him continue. Through blurry eyes, a single tear running down the side to the pillow, he's able to see his own cum leaking out of you, followed by your own as you finally reach your orgasm —huffing out a broken sigh, your back arching ignoring the buckling of your knees.

Hanma groans, the pain subsiding and now able to rest. In a starfish position, missing the heat of your body as it leaves his lap, his sight begins to obscure.

He hasn't experienced something quite like this ever, not with any woman he's had a chance with.

He's said it before, you've always been something else. It explains why his heart can't calm down once you're with him, or why a strange heat burns through his chest everytime he thinks about you.

Because in all these years, he's never not thought about you.

He can't put a name to the feeling, yet deep inside him he knows.

He knows because, before passing out from the ecstasy of the sex, he has the strong urge to have you in his arms. Since he doesn't understand why so many tears are streaming down your face.

Is he not good enough?

He'll never get to know, sadly.

thanks for reading <3 as a reminder, you can find the full fic (my ordinary life ; tokyorev x reader) on wattpad (HAITANITE) or ao3 (haitanology)

#hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma smut #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma #hanma shuji #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers

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sweetkpopmusings · 5 months ago

Text

long for you (interlude) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: here's the interlude! only one more part of the fic left after this </3 this one is angsty, but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless >.< currently at work so i might make edits to it later lol if you want to be added to the tag list, you can reply to this post or send me an ask! pics not mine <3

♡ find all parts here ♡

content: fluff, romance, fake dating, angst, a happy ending | wc: 3.7k | warnings: mentions of food/eating, lots of crying | pairing: nonbinary!painter!hyunjin x gn!writer!reader | requests: open

synopsis: y/n is a writer with a long-awaited, well-deserved career opportunity. despite the excitement, there’s one major problem: the publisher expects a modern love story, equally romcom-like and authentic, but y/n lacks the inspiration to write something worth reading. through a chance meeting with mutual friends, y/n and hyunjin bond over upcoming deadlines and creative blocks. before the conversation ends, they discover that the ridiculous plot of fake dating might just work to solve their inspirational dry spell.

interlude: love untold

“y/n!”

a familiar voice calls your name. you look around the crowd, searching for anyone you recognize, not quite sure what you’re trying to find. when you see his face, you understand why the way he called your name sounded so much like home.

chan hurries over the second you wave to him, and you instinctively smile at his lopsided curls bouncing with each step he takes. you melt into his bear hug, warmed by the contact and the closeness of his bright smile. it’s only once you realize that he has run into you here that you feel a tiny wave of shock roll over you.

“wait, chan,” you tilt your head, “how are you…why are you here?”

he laughs, “i’m just as surprised to see you, y/n. i’m here interviewing for a new job.”

“oh wow! that’s great! how did it go?”

“i have the interview tomorrow, actually. i figured i’d get in a day early to feel out the area and make sure i like it.”

“and? what’s your review so far?”

chan’s excited grin is replaced by a soft smile, “seeing you makes it perfect.”

with a simple sentence, chan has you blushing the way you did as a teenager. it didn’t take much to fall into the old rhythm with him: easy conversation, light touches, inside jokes suddenly at the front of your mind despite not having been uttered in years. you two could have lost yourselves in each other’s presence anywhere, but chan suggests you migrate into a coffee shop to continue the conversation. as your agenda for the rest of the day is empty, you lead chan to a nearby coffee shop, relaxing into your seat with your favorite drink and the comfort of an old companion.

“so, tell me everything that’s been going on with you!”

you laugh, “chan. we haven’t seen each other in what, two, three years now? i hardly think telling you everything is possible.”

“i thought you said you had the rest of the night free?”

you roll your eyes, and chan giggles at his own joke. quietly, you prioritize what information to share, careful not to spiral and think about how much has changed since your last conversation with chan.

“i guess i can start with the fact that i got a book deal.”

chan just about drops his drink, “no way, y/n! that’s amazing! wow! i knew you’d do it one day. i know it has been your dream for ages. i’m so proud of you!”

“thank you, chan,” you pause to ensure he knows the depth of your gratitude, “it is a ghostwriting contract, so my name won’t be on it, but it feels surreal that someone’s paying me to write a book.”

“do you know when it’ll come out? i need to be first in line to buy it.”

“i honestly have no idea, but i’m turning in the manuscript tomorrow. the first draft of it, anyway.”

“wooooow,” chan leans back in his chair, “i’m so impressed. you’re like a big-time author now.”

“okay, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you scoff, still complimented by his pride in you, “but what about you? what brings you here for a new job?”

“eh, nothing as exciting as your news. i just want something new. i haven’t been feeling inspired with the work i do now, and i need a change of scenery. i moved back home after we…you know. it was great to go back to my roots. it’s time for me to move forward, turn a new page, start a life where no one knows me. at least that was the plan until i ran into you.”

you both laugh, and you reply, “if your interview tomorrow goes well, i can act like i don’t know you, so things can go according to plan.”

chan laughs boyishly, the way you always remembered it, “i appreciate your support, but i’d hate nothing more than for you to forget about me.”

you nod. you’d often caught yourself wondering whether chan still thought about you, whether he remembered any details of you and your life together. the space between you two was never supposed to grow this vast, but you figure that’s just how these things go sometimes. you feel a pang in your chest, sitting across from him, aware of how much he still means to you, despite it all.

“not to draw attention to the elephant in the room,” chan starts, feigning confidence over the redness in his ears, “are you seeing anyone?”

“please,” you laugh dryly, “you know i’m not.”

chan hums, observing you for a few extra seconds, “something’s going on in your love life.”

“chan!” you gape at him with disbelief, “based on what evidence?”

he leans closer to you, elbows on the table and eyes focused, “come on. i know you better than most people, especially when it comes to this stuff. who is it?”

you frown, hoping you can get him to believe that nothing is happening. predictably, even after years of separation, chan waits patiently. silent, stubborn, supportive.

“fine,” you sigh, spinning your cup a few times to delay your admission, “i was involved–well, not really involved, per se. there was…someone. we had something. at least, i thought we did, and i thought they thought so too. then, they ended things without warning. i can’t say they were in the wrong because being able to end things was a part of our…agreement…but it still hurt. i felt–feel–blindsided and delusional and stupid for getting my hopes up. i don’t think there’s anything to do now except move on, which sucks because it felt special. but hey,” you laugh sordidly, “i’ve been wrong about that before.”

chan smiles, some sadness peeking through, “we both have been wrong about that before.”

you nod, coming up empty on what to say next. chan watches you to ensure you’ve shared everything you wanted to before he speaks again.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i don’t know what they were thinking, and i won’t ask you to dredge up every detail, but i don’t need to know the whole situation to know that they made a mistake. you are so special. loving and being loved by you is the greatest gift i’ve ever known. you deserve someone who recognizes that, and i’m sorry that they weren’t smart enough to.”

you clear your throat, overwhelmed by chan’s words, “thanks, chan.”

“of course,” he smiles, “i’m what you could call an expert on this subject.”

you both laugh again, and chan continues, “all i wanted to do was give you the best. i still want to. i always thought if we saw each other again…” chan pauses to ensure he’s caught your gaze, “i would love to be the person that gives you what you deserve, if you’d let me.”

oh.

“chan…”

“you don’t have to answer right now. besides, i wouldn’t ask for your time if we still lived as far apart as we do now. i just mean that, one way or another, i’d love to be back in your life. i still love you, and i always will, regardless of what that love looks like.”

a smile spreads across your face. chan, as you always remembered, never fails to surround you with warmth. you tell him so as you both say your goodbyes. you promise to call, much to chan’s excitement. he promises to tell you how the interview goes, and you can’t help but hope that he gets the job in the city, this city, your city.

later, while you muscle through the final edits of your first manuscript, jisung stops by to confirm that you’re eating and drinking enough. against your best efforts, you mention chan right away.

“chan’s here?” jisung’s eyes are wide, though you can’t tell with which emotion.

you nod, “yeah, he’s interviewing for a job tomorrow.”

“oh wow, good for him!” jisung pauses his celebration for chan to ask the inevitable, “how did it feel to see him after…everything?”

you sigh, wondering how far down memory lane you were willing to travel, “it felt…good. we were comfortable right away, and, though it was clear time had passed, we were as connected as we had always been. he actually…i think, if he moves here, he wants to give us another shot.”

“whoa,” jisung looks arguably more shocked than you were when chan made his abrupt confession.

“yeah. i was surprised too. but i don’t know…i felt surprised in a good way, i think. obviously the whole hyunjin situation is fresh, and i’d be lying if i said i was over it. yet running into chan randomly for him to admit that he still wants to be with me, in some capacity at least, maybe that’s happening for a reason. i’ve felt so cynical about love for a long time. what if chan is the happy ending i’ve been craving all along?”

“i’m glad that seeing him went so well,” jisung chuckles, “i know when you two were with each other, you constantly talked about building a future together. you were happy with chan, there’s no denying that. but…”

“i know, i know,” you cut him off, so he doesn’t have to be the one to bring up the uncomfortable reminder, “he was my first love, and my first heartbreak. i can’t forget that he ended things because i distanced myself from him. i was scared, jisung. even though, or perhaps because, we were so young, our relationship was so idyllic. everything seemed to line up perfectly, and yet there was a pit in my stomach because i always worried that something was missing. could it have been that i found what was missing by growing up?”

“you sound like me,” he teases, a bit impressed, “it genuinely could be that you needed time apart to figure yourselves out before you could make it work. you and chan were great together; anyone could see that. if giving that relationship another, more mature try, is the right move, then you have my full support. but y/n…is chan the one you want to be with?”

“i…” you glance over at the poem hanging on your fridge, briefly feeling the way hyunjin’s words had moved you that night not so far in the past, “i’ve been feeling cynical about love and relationships for a long time. seeing chan made me feel hopeful again.”

“was it really chan that changed your mind?”

you roll your eyes and scoff, “whatever hyunjin made me feel doesn’t count. we weren’t even together anyway.”

jisung sighs, “just because you weren’t technically together doesn’t mean you didn’t build a relationship. the way you felt about hyunjin is what changed your mind on love, if you ask me. and, as we’ve already established, i have earned my wisdom when it comes to love.”

you both laugh, relieving the tension. jisung definitely knew what he was talking about, and you know that he wouldn’t say anything regarding your love life if it weren’t important.

“what do you think i should do?”

a sweet and sympathetic smile appears on jisung’s face, “you know i can’t answer that. what i can say is i hope you chase after what’s right for you now. the younger version of you deserved real love, and who you are now deserves real love. that love might look different, whether it comes from the same person or not. it’s probably the romantic in me, but i think you’ll know if you’ve found that love. i hope you trust your gut, and i’ll support you no matter who or what you choose.”

with that, you thank him and remind him that you have a novel to finish, which means you don’t quite have the time for an existential crisis about love tonight. he laughs, wishes you luck, and heads home. you sit at the table for a while, quietly thinking to yourself about the events of the day. you never thought you’d be in a position like this, but you guess that signing up to live out one fanfic trope makes you more susceptible to living out other ones too. with that in mind, after finishing your edits, you decide to add one last line to the ending.

after all that had happened to us, and in spite of whatever would come, the center of everything was this: i have longed for you since the moment i met you; therefore, i will always love you.

before you can second guess yourself, you send it to your publisher and close your laptop. unable to resist the tears, you sit at your kitchen table, full of relief and sadness, and cry. regardless of what tomorrow brings, one love story has ended. in chasing toward your tomorrow, you have to live with saying goodbye.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“hyunjin!” jeongin looks up from his desk, face composed but eyes wide with surprise, “i wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

hyunjin approximates a smile to the best of their abilities, “i figured i should hand the final piece in directly.”

“as always, i appreciate the personal touch,” jeongin grins and points to the large canvas leaning against hyunjin’s body, “is that it?”

“yes,” they gaze down, peeking at the image, “i finally finished it.”

quiet, hyunjin places the painting on a work table in front of jeongin. jeongin examines it, thoroughly dedicated to appreciating every brushstroke. the compliments on his artistic choices are personal and detailed, but hyunjin barely registers them. they’re sure they will be able to hear the precise, sincere feedback a different night, maybe when the exhibition opens, so hyunjin only feels a twinge of regret at being spaced out yet again. jeongin must have been able to tell that hyunjin was only half there because he quickly transitions his praise into a goodbye. hyunjin gratefully accepts the exit plan.

“oh, and hyunjin?”

hyunjin pauses near the door, facing their friend with their full attention, “yeah?”

“take care of yourself, yeah?”

“of course.”

hyunjin makes it only a block before the tears start streaming. hearing those words from jeongin, the type of friend to refrain from casual sentimentality, breaks hyunjin’s thinly veiled detachment. the facade they barely maintained in the past few weeks lacked resilience. how could there be any solidity to him when hyunjin spent the recent past floating away?

they walk aimlessly for some amount of time, landing at a park bench. the afternoon sun would usually deter them from this spot, but the overcast sky makes the place feel less visible, less connected to the rest of the outside world. hyunjin hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes at a time since the conversation at the restaurant, so they melt into the bench with hopes that vitamin d will cure them of their self-inflicted heartbreak. cure is perhaps too strong of a hope. hyunjin doesn’t believe anything could undo the hurt he caused, but he wants to believe that the suffering won’t last forever.

in case the sunshine can’t clear all their problems away, hyunjin calls minho. they feel selfish and stupid and hate that they could be interrupting someone else’s good day, but he can’t think of anything useful on his own. all the time in the studio, all the distancing from friends, all the nights spent writing in their journals couldn’t remove the pit in their stomach, the rock in their chest. the guilt weighed so much more because your name was written all over it.

“hyunjin,” minho answers on the third ring, “how can i help you?”

they laugh through the tears, sniffling, “your customer service knows no bounds.”

“i expect a tip.”

hyunjin laughs again, grateful for a fleeting lightness in his chest before confronting everything that’s crashing down, “minho, i messed up.”

minho sighs on the other side of the line, “do you want to talk about it?”

thankfully, minho doesn’t rush hyunjin to respond. hyunjin, overcome with just about every emotion they’ve felt in the past few weeks, feels another wave of tears emerge in the presence of his friend’s patience and understanding. they’re not sure what they’re looking for, but being able to admit their mistakes feels like the right place to start.

“i really cared about y/n. like…deeply. more than i’ve cared about someone in a long time, if ever. i miss them, and it’s my fault. it’s like a sick joke. this whole arrangement was built around us finding inspiration for our work, and now, because i got scared, i learned what yearning actually feels like. i feel it in my body, like the urge to reach out for something–someone–that isn’t there anymore. it’s so cliché, and i used to make fun of people for saying it when they went through a breakup, but i look for y/n in everything i see. they’re gone. the feeling of them beside me is like a phantom limb, but i am responsible for the amputation. i feel like i can’t even be sad about it because i’m the one who left. i can’t even say i don’t know what went wrong because i ruined it. i regret it. minho, i don’t know what to do.”

“hyunjin,” minho sighs, “you need to be kinder to yourself. yes, you made a mistake, but you don’t deserve to tear yourself apart for it.”

“don’t i though? what i have–had–with y/n was so special. they deserve so much more than what i gave them, what i was giving them and then immaturely ripped away. they were so kind to me, so honest. and i threw that all away without so much as an explanation.”

“okay,” minho lets out a breath with a hint of frustration, “i really think you’re taking this self-flagellation thing way too far, but i won’t waste time arguing with you if you don’t want to believe me–”

“where did you learn ‘self-flagellation’?”

“hyunjin, seriously?” minho deadpans.

hyunjin can perfectly picture the annoyed look on minho’s face, and he laughs, “sorry, you’re right. we were being serious and vulnerable. i shouldn’t have interrupted with a joke.”

“exactly, you shouldn’t have interrupted the vulnerability.”

“are you talking about you or y/n now?”

“a little bit of both, but mostly y/n. you got scared because you two were so open with each other. you felt seen in a way you hadn’t before. that’s rare. all of us would be or have been intimidated by something like that.”

“not everyone runs away though,” hyunjin frowns, kicking a rock by their foot, “i did the thing you’re not supposed to do when you find someone as…perfect as y/n.”

“do you want them back?”

hyunjin bites his lip, scared even now to be honest about their desire, “it’s not like they would give me a second chance. they’re smarter than that.”

“that’s not the question i asked,” minho replies, kind yet firm.

panicking, they reply, “you know, even though it was a fake relationship, we kissed once. it was my idea, sort of as a joke. we did it anyway, ‘for the plot,’” hyunjin chuckles, “there was this clarity, in the seconds after we kissed. i realized then and there that i was far more tied to y/n than i ever expected or could have hoped. i know it sounds dramatic, but it’s like, with them, my heart and soul were…now they’re…life isn’t…i just thought that things would have turned out a completely different way, and maybe i was romanticizing things–i probably was, i always do–but that doesn’t change the fact that…”

hyunjin pauses their rambling to take a deep breath, knowing there are only a few words left to say, “i want to be with y/n.”

for a brief second, the weight of everything falls away into sweet certainty. hyunjin wants to be with you, plain and simple. their stomach twists at the fact that you weren’t together because they ran away, but his heart leaps in hope that maybe things could still change.

“do you feel better now that you’ve said it?”

hyunjin sighs, relief rather than regret, “yeah. i do.”

“good,” minho pauses, and hyunjin imagines he’s cracking his knuckles in preparation for the nitty gritty advice he’s about to drop, “i think it’s important to point out that, just because you were fake dating each other doesn’t mean that you two didn’t have a relationship at all. you shared a connection, and the bond you built together was real, even if you weren’t earnestly trying to be romantic partners.”

oh.

hyunjin stays silent, so minho continues, “like i said, running away from someone, something special, because you’re scared of how much they mean to you is a mistake we all have or will make. don’t keep beating yourself up for it. also, don’t keep being dumb by avoiding y/n. if you feel the way you say you feel, then you owe it to yourself and to them to be honest, even if it’s coming a little late. take a chance. you’re already hurt, and you’ve already hurt them. what else do you have to lose?”

“i can’t believe you called me dumb while giving me the most insightful advice i’ve ever heard.”

minho laughs, “life’s about balance, hyunjin.”

hyunjin rolls their eyes, “i guess you’re right. about both things.”

“mhm. i usually am.”

hyunjin scoffs, “okay, if you’re going to gloat about being wise, i’m going to hang up.”

“good!” minho sighs the way one does after a long day’s work, “it’ll give you time to figure out how you’re going to get your person back.”

“you’re so annoying,” hyunjin huffs, “thank you. i’ll tell you how it goes.”

minho hums in agreement, rushing out a don’t forget to stop being dumb! as hyunjin ends the call. hyunjin sets their phone down next to them on the bench and takes a deep breath. the late afternoon is already melting its way into the evening. as hyunjin stares at the setting sun in the distance, they think about the beloved painting above their desk. out there, somewhere in the same city, there’s a chance you are at your bedroom window, saying goodbye to another day with hyunjin on the outside, a part of the world not welcomed into your home. what they wouldn’t give to change that.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tag list: @velvetmoonlght @tirena1 (<333 tysm)

#sweetkpopmusings #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fic #fake dating au #skz hyunjin #non idol au #skz fic #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz au #stray kids au #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids angst #skz angst #long for you

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oh-saints · 2 years ago

Note

ruben dias and daughter of pep guardiola.

man.. when i got this request, all i keep thinking about is some forbidden, enemy-to-lovers trope so here it is! i hope you like it!

enemy

you and rúben dias can never be in the same room and it's the main reason why your father's head balding. so what changes?

rúben dias x guardiola!reader

word count: 4.2k

tw: 18+ for graphic sexual contents included inside (aka a sprinkle of smut); drinking, swearing, unprotected sex (and some angry/hate sex)

note: i was writing something along the line of enemy-to-lovers but got stuck midway until this request came in from @kkilp so here we are. my first smut? dang that feels weird saying it was also inspired mildly by anthony and kate of bridgerton (TV series; s2, 2021) but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so ofc this is not proof-read and feedbacks are always welcome! (now lemme go back to repent my sin and go back writing the charles leclerc story i've got...)

“another flower from your daughter, isn’t it?”

rúben could hear one of the coaching staffs commented pep as the spaniard walked in with a huge bouquet of varied flowers on his arms, almost blinding the old man’s sight for direction. pep only laughed to answer his staff’s clarificatory question because it had indeed become a habit for that particular daughter of his to send a humongous array of flowers to her father whenever he and his team won something.

last night happened to be the time when the team had won another EPL title. thus, the biggest arrangement being sent to her father’s office. it was funny for some as she always matches the size to the prestigious level of a trophy.

but of course the entire building loves her. she’d sent each and everyone in this building a bouquet, directly to their houses, albeit in smaller size than the ones delivered for her father. but still, complete with the words hard work always pays off. congratulations, champions! typed perfectly in the middle of the card.

being a florist, she’d also send a basket to anyone who was celebrating with carnations, anyone who was newly having kids with hydrangeas, anyone who was injured with sunflowers.

but him.

he’d like to think himself as someone not petty so no—it wasn’t because he didn’t get a bouquet for himself. he could buy himself one so big the smell would’ve made him throw up for days if a mere basket of flowers was his problem. he just didn’t understand why people couldn’t see how she acted beyond the artificial care and love she’d faked behind those flowers.

rúben was probably the only one who couldn’t relate towards all of the love directed towards her. he could only hope the people would soon belief what he’d gone through, as everybody thought he was crazy for saying she was cold, aloof and rather unfriendly as of late.

as of late being the key word here because god damnit, they used to be so… close? well, he thought they were close but it seemed that for her, they were amicable at best. because one day, she just started to shut him off and she wasn’t shy to show him that. and only to him, no one else. no one of close friends would—and could—do that overnight.

it was similar to those mean girls kind of story plot where you know she’d give you scrutiny so directly but so indirectly in the eyes of everyone else. except that the ending was no where near, unfortunately, for she was now sporting off the cold shoulder to him throughout the whole EPL celebratory party.

rúben was inclined to believe she intended to rile him up even, as she danced the night away with those crazy drunkards he called his teammates. jack, kyle, john amongst the name. he prides himself in moderate amount every time he drinks and he intends to keep it while he’s still an active athlete, but fucking hell did he want to drink till his head bang in the same rhythm as the bass pounding the dance floor.

he just wanted to barge in the midst of the group and had fun with her, just like they used to back when he was still in his freshman year on the etihad side. if she didn’t like it, then good. it gave him the chance for confrontation of whatever it is she was doing.

fuck it, he’d said to himself as he got up from his seat, tired of being the sober friend to a bunch of kids. might as well have my fair share of fun, even if it didn’t involve getting her into the picture.

but in all honesty, she’d seen this move of his. this was what solidified her justification of staying away from him. the moment he was bored out of his mind, that was when he started preying for another long-legged bimbo to bring home.

she could only pray for the woman’s well-being afterwards because she’d learned it the hard way.

for her, rúben was siren personified. he’d talk his way to your pants, feeding you to his soul until you’re left dry. thank god he didn’t make it way past the whole sexual thing—she’d kept him at bay for so long that he’d got bored and the moment she was about to give in was the moment she found out about him moving on.

that night, when she dropped by his house for an impromptu netflix and chill session, when she was ready to accept whatever his advances that night. only for his leading lady to greet her by the door, wearing only lingerie and his shirt unbuttoned.

despite them going apart now, it never soothed her heartbreak.

but she had to see him all the time, thanks to her father’s job. that fact upset her beyond belief that she couldn’t seem to escape him. especially when everyone talks highly of him, when everyone loves him.

there were so many times she wanted to spill out the hot tea but she resisted because it wouldn’t do any good—for her, for him, for her father, for anyone. people would take her as a bitter bitch that didn’t get the dick, she’d held higher regards for herself than to stoop so low.

“let him go and have fun with me.”

the club’s lightning was too dark for her to make out who the hell that was, whispering behind her like he had the world in his palm. obnoxious dick, she’d muttered to herself.

“what did you just say?”

“go away.”

men, couldn’t take a no for his answer as he grabbed her wrist rather harsh, trying to exert some power over her. “no, you didn’t—"

“she said go away, mate,” weird how she knew it was rúben standing behind her before she could see him. “which part of that sentence did you not understand? should i cut off your hands instead?”

the stranger tried to hard not to be intimidated by rúben’s stare but his grip on her hands said the otherwise. “you wouldn’t.”

“would you like to try?”

if she wasn’t just assaulted by the man, she would’ve taken a pity because rúben seething anger and deep distaste like you’re a disgusting human being that doesn’t deserve to live wasn’t something she’d like to experience herself.

“are you okay?”

she didn’t realise she was watching the man scurried off as if he’d caught on fire when rúben went ahead and touched her herself. she’d froze at her place, not knowing where to stand because his hand was placed exactly where the unwanted touch happened—partly she got reminded of what had just happened to her, partly she’d gladly take rúben’s touch over anyone else she didn’t know of.

“hey, you’re okay?”

she couldn’t comprehend what was happening and it felt suffocating to be the centre of everyone’s attention, so she dashed for the restroom for a bit of space.

“talk to me,” she could hear rúben’s voice from the other side of the door, solid 10 minutes after she entered the loo. he’d understood, she whispered to herself as if it was a wonder rúben was smarter than he let on. “please say you’re okay.”

as if she didn’t know the rúben that deserted her for another woman.

god, she hated him for doing this to her. “go away, rúben!”

“like hell i will,” he spat ferociously behind the doors that it startled her. but the soft voice that followed after was more shocking it ran shivers down her back. “i need to know you’re okay.”

the caring thought that laced his words didn’t escape her because she knew, no matter of an asshole rúben was, rúben was always genuine with his words. it was his past actions and the difference between actions and words that scarred her for life—well, at least up until now.

but it was enough for her to choose to shut up instead of acting based on her turmoil of emotions. she’d silently tidy up, fixing her hair and lipstick, while watching the women coming out of the loos one by one till it was only her left. in hope he’d left if she stayed inside for far too long for his liking, then she could sneak out of this place from the backdoor.

all plans were shattered, though, when the door slammed wide open and revealed rúben bulldozing his way inside like a monster truck exhibition. the veins on his arms and neck was bulging angrily, as angry as his face.

“what the fu—”

“i said i need to know you’re okay,” after he spit the words as if that should be obvious to her, he then proceeded to lock the door behind him. “didn’t you hear?”

cowards, afraid anyone walk on you in a woman’s bathroom? “i did, but it doesn’t mean i have to answer you.”

“puta madre,” if she didn’t hold on to the painful memory he’d learned spanish from the ex-girlfriend she met one night too long ago, she’d go meek and weak at his impeccable multilingual tongue. “you’re so frustrating! why is it so hard for you to tell me so?”

“why do want to know?”

“because some asshole just groped you in the ass!” one of his hands shot towards her direction, gesturing from her head to toe in frustration. of her not seeing his point. “surely you’re not okay. no one is after such terrible event.”

“there, you said it youself. i’m not okay,” she rolled her eyes at his reply, hands folding in front of her chest. “why do you care, anyway?”

he shot him a look that was scaring her, and not of the violence he was capable of doing. “do i have to have a reason to care about you?”

“go back in there, rúben,” she tried to stand her ground, faking a rather tired expression when, in fact, she was masking her fear as he dared himself to step closer to her direction. “your drunk friends need your care more than i do.”

his eyes remained intense, burning her down as if she was merely a clothing to burn, as he stepped in front of her. his strong aura forced her to look up at him, and she tried to put some defiance into it in order to show she was in control. or trying to.

“but i don’t care about them,” he lowered his voice as he didn’t see the need to speak louder when his opponent was right under his nose. he knew he’d got her when she shifted her stance from the right leg to her left one. “i care about you.”

the statement obviously caught her off guard, as outmost surprised laced the pair of eyes that—luckily—resembled her mother more. rúben took the chance to close down the gap between their lips, as fast as lightning before she changed her mind, goading her to open up.

as soon as he heard her groaning in surrender, the inside of him ignited in delight. rúben pushed more than what she thought she could give, for he knew she could give more than she thought. his effort drove her to the edge of the sink behind her and she grunted at the crash against the porcelain, but bloody hell the sound effected rúben so much he felt blood rushing south and adrenaline took over his brain.

he’d lifted her up and placed her on the sink in a pace so swift she’d only managed to blink once. he’d slid his hands down her calf, up north towards the rim of her sundress, and she gasped at his ardent touch. felt so hot against the air conditioner of a room so big but only filled with the two of them.

rúben took the liberty to explore her mouth the moment the passage was opened. despite having his eyes closed, he savoured each and every stroke he made for the mental map of hers and he savoured the feeling of her hands sliding everywhere her hands could reach in desperation to hold on for herself while her body unconsciously gave away her control the moment rúben touched the edges of her panties.

she’d arched her back so flexibly rúben had to pull back a bit and admired the crescent shape she was bending herself to be. but not even the moon could compare with the beauty puny in his hands, with pink mauve lipstick smeared lightly and dishevelled hair against the mirror.

“god, you’re beautiful,” and it was all it took for her to sit up and grab his shirt to forcefully meet her lips halfway.

and for rúben, nothing was sexier than when a woman tried to put up a fight against him, even after well-knowing he’d win anyway. so he’d let her think she won, nuzzling his nose downwards, smelling her perfume, her body odour and her desperation all in one. he’d left kisses on his way down, the same moment his hands peeled down the flimsy strap of her sundress, and he swore he’d never touch finer things than the shape of her.

he’d palmed every surface his hands could reach, and took every choked breaths she emitted from his touch. but when he touched the centre of her underwear and felt the drip she was heavily producing, he’d become a goner. he couldn’t take it anymore.

without detaching his lips from her healthy skin, he pulled back an inch to give himself space to undo his pants. when she realised this, she’d drop her hands from his hair and shoulder to help him stash away the jeans. they laughed at this somehow, before they turned muted when rúben dias junior was out of the cage, standing tall and unwavering like him.

the anticipation killed him because jesus christ, with the desire running down her face, he wouldn’t be able to do much anymore. so he kissed her before she could have any second thoughts while his hands aligned himself to her. the first skin-to-skin contact left them breathless, in every literal sense of the word, and rúben could see what she was feeling before she could say anything. the way she closed her eyes in ecstasy as he slipped himself inside of her couldn’t lie.

“oh shit,” he’d read normally women was the only who went all goo at a drop to a man’s voice, but this time rúben could piss himself hearing her doing it. “that feels so good.”

eyes closed, slow pants coming out of that gaping mouth and fucking hell she looks amazingly sexy. and she feels like how she looked like, good god. rúben couldn’t stop his hands from grabbing the sides of her face, some hairs scrunched in them, accidentally closing some parts of her mouth but it didn’t stop her from letting out hot, broken breaths when rúben started moving out of her.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” the portugese giant nipped the bottom lips that looked so juicy from all the kisses exchanged between them, from him. “all for me, huh?”

“yes, you—oh!” she yelped like a siren when rúben slammed himself back to her. “do it right, rúben. do me right.”

rúben didn’t need further command to that, for sure.

she moaned so disgustingly dirty as he guided his cock back and forth, inside and out the now-slick fold, to the brink of heaven on earth. every time he pulled out, she’d moan in pleading, desperate to have all of him inside of her that anyone hearing her whimper would definitely take a pity on her.

“fuck! right there!” she screamed in pleasure as she held rúben’s wrist that was holding her in the face and she wasn’t lying about it. with the way she was rocking his girth and the pressure she’d put on her grip, she was close to the edge. “right there, right there!”

“come on, baby. let go for me.”

fuuuuuuck! ugh, fuck, fuck!

“oh yes, that’s right, baby,” he was now panting so hard the mirror above her was now covered in mist, but how could he stop himself when he looked down and there was the most amazing sight he’d set his eyes on. he ended where she began and she ended where he began. “that’s my girl.”

something inside of her clicked like the electric circuit and all the sudden it was black. but not a frightening blackout, more like black with stars on the back of her head. “fuck, rúben—”

rúben?

rúben dias?

the moment her brain registered the voice indeed belong to rúben dias, she went completely still that rúben had to break her moment. “hey, what’s wrong?”

she badly wished the earth could swallow her right now. the girth still inside of her be damned.

she pressed the crescent eyelids he’d come to love, for they looked as pretty as the moon outside, in a manner rúben didn’t want to know why. because it looked like she didn’t want to open her eyes to meet his. because it looked like regret.

“baby—”

“don’t, rúben.”

she cut him off with the sharpest blade available under her arsenal, her intonation, and at that moment it felt like those film moments when he froze after she stabbed her, digesting the pain and the shock that blanketed the moment.

“what did i do wrong?”

“this, rúben,” and she clenched her jaw, as if it pained her. as if it didn’t pain him to look at the expression she was sporting on her face now—here comes the old, cold you, rúben regretfully noted. “this is what’s wrong. what are you thinking?”

and there was the pair of eyes he loved, for they always speak the truth words lie about. but this time, rúben wished she didn’t open them, for they always speak the truth words lie about, and this time eyes and mouth were seething with anger.

“am i just another rebound for you?”

now that was a serious accusation. “where the hell does that come from?”

“you don’t like me, rúben,” if she wasn’t spitting stupid thoughts, rúben would certainly take the pleasure to fawn over her fiery stance right now. nothing pleased him more than putting people down to follow the order, and she certainly exuded rebellion from her eyes alone. “you never do.”

his large hand jumped to pull her face upwards to face him, rather powerfully to show who’s the boss and she just crossed the line. the movement caused his dick to slide back deeper into her, unexpectedly that she had to hold herself from moaning at the feeling—this feeling as a whole, more likely—but the distance he eliminated between them allowed him to inhale her suppressed whimper.

peering down to her in an arrogance manner she wanted to wipe from the faces of the earth, rúben raised his left eyebrow, challenging her back. “if i don’t like you, why did i just fuck your brains out?”

“as i said—”

“rebounds, you say?” and he didn’t intend to let her speak, as he instead pulled her closer to him by the waist. the sensation he could pull out of her mouth was the only thing he allowed between them, broken gasps and all. “if you know me as well as you think you are, then tell me,”

her chest was burning at the sensation he was whispering so close to her, inhaling what she exhaled, inhaling what he exhaled. on fire at the sensation of him pulling out slowly from her at the same time the hand on her waist travelled inside, towards the aching clit deprived of the friction from his groin.

“tell me, baby,” god, rúben wanted to close off the gaping mouth, as shut as the fluttering eyelids. “have you ever heard of me doing that? have you ever seen me, with your own eyes, doing that?”

“rúben—”

his hand was so close yet so far, caressing the insides of her thighs, and she hated the fact she needed him to touch her. now, or else she’d combust. “answer me.”

“no—”

“there you go,” and there was the satisfaction he’d recognised from the arch of her back and neck, as he hurled himself back to her soft spot, allowing him to pepper kisses along the underside of her chin, down along her throat, nailing her in her place further. “god, if only you knew…”

only when rúben pulled away from the space in the middle of her decolletages did she open her eyes once more, and she was rendered rather speechless at how rúben was looking at her. she was almost scared to ask but knew she needed the answer. “knew what?”

“it’s maddening,” the hand in her face moved to a different angle, now his forefinger was tracing the edges of her lips. the very one he destroyed with the harsh, heated kisses they exchanged. his artwork. “how much you consume my very being.”

before her heart could leap out of its place, rúben kissed her lips once more with so much fervour and everything else remained in his body. different to their earlier kisses full of lust, this one was lingering but unspeakable feeling and passion and lust and love.

love?

whatever they were feeling certainly wasn’t love, was it? they hate each other, for fuck’s sake.

“eyes on me, querida,” rúben’s voice snapped her thoughts away and she obeyed him, forgetting how easy it was to spare this particular man the hatred. before she saw that ex-girlfriend of his on the doorsteps, before she resorted to her self-defence mechanism.

“hello, there,” and he felt her melting away, as he recognised the whimpers she let out this time while he was rocking their boat in rhythm back and forth was nothing sort of what she gave 15 minutes ago. “there’s the eyes i love the most.”

love?

but before her mind could drift somewhere else, rúben finished off what he started. he drove her to the end fast and without mercy this time, leaving him helpless under his control of pace. his hand was no longer feathering the skin, they’d made themselves useful by dipping into the blossoming bud between rúben and her. the crude touch against her soft, plump crown was the striking contrast she needed to release herself for the second time, all frustration and thoughts were now focused on the finishing line. so focused that she didn’t feel herself shaking, trembling as rúben assaulted all of her senses—his kiss, his touch, his smell, his drive.

rúben sensed her going weaker from his all-out attack, not wanting to hold back himself either, not when he finally had her within his whim. he took her hands to curl them behind his neck and pulled up her knees so he could lift her up before turning their position around. he was now sitting on the lid of the toilet nearby while she sunk down on him and good fucking lord did she wrap him, all of his 9-inches, so tightly and so deeply like she was made for him.

and she felt it, too, for she sling her arms on his shoulder, hanging for her dear life. rúben couldn’t help but pull her in his grasp, closer than before—no air, no space between them—and the feeling of conjoining with her altogether almost undid him before her he had to stop himself from moving. rúben rested his head on her chest, wanting to calm himself down first as he placed open-mouthed kisses and nips on the outline of her nipples, but the action seemed to turn her on as he felt her clenching around him.

“fuck, don’t stop,” he involuntarily said, and she took it as an invitation to take the wheel from him and ride them out. “fuck, baby. fuck yes, i’m coming.”

“oh, yes, yes, yes!” she’d screamed as rúben manoeuvred her hips back and forth. combined that with the sinful components of his mouth against her breast, licking and sucking the sensitive bud like there was no tomorrow, it didn’t take long for her to reach her, by far, most satisfying high. “oh joder, rúben!”

she’d relish the feeling of soaring high in the sky all over again as she came down to earth. rúben was already holding her by the waist and a small part of her back so she didn’t crumble down trembling messily, small kisses were already scattered all over the hollow part on her shoulder blades, like he didn’t care if she just pulled out his hair so hard she was now afraid he’d catch up to her father’s balding.

“i love you,” but this time she didn’t go all ice on him. “i’m sorry i made you think the otherwise.”

and rúben, being the perfect gentleman, proved how sorry he was by sending her a bouquet of flower the next day. her, a florist, a bunch of imported fresh white tulips before she could wake up and go to the flower market early in the morning. how he did that when it wasn’t tulip season, she didn’t know, and the effort didn’t pass as overlooked by her eyes.

yes, the effort of scouting the rare tulips, but most of all the effort he’d go just to saywhat the flowers implied; i’m sorry. just like his words.

of course he was forgiven.

641 notes · View notes

loudblonde · 1 year ago

Text

Perfectly Content, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Male Reader

Summary:

Simon comes home to find his husband missing, distraught he gets his team to help find him, only to end up getting shot by a poison-laced bullet.

Or Simon's husband is more badass and connected than even Price realises.

word count: 3,4K

warnings: the aftermath of torture, getting shot, almost dying, violence

author note: The ending was a wee bit rushed as my arm was starting to hurt too much,

Ghost knew from the moment he saw (Y/N), that no matter what, that man meant more to him than he could ever comprehend and that scared him more than he could explain.

(Y/N) wasn’t even military, he was a civilian that Ghost had met out and about, an accidental bump into each other… It was like something out of a romance book. (Y/N) had grabbed Simon and forced his heart to beat to his rhythm. Ghost was trapped in the emotions and it scared him.

He knew he had more enemies than he could count and for one of them to get a hold of someone innocent… he was terrified, more terrified than he had ever been living under Mister Riley’s roof.

So, he hid him away from everyone, (Y/N) had no family, no friends, he had been completely new to town and the idea of falling in love quickly hadn’t been something (Y/N) had seemed against. Ghost had bought a plot of land in a forest where an old house stood on it, he had gotten water, electricity and Wi-Fi out there, so his perfect little civilian husband never lacked anything. Sure, he would buy in bulk at the grocery store nearby, but (Y/N) never seemed to dislike it or complain. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

Simon wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, he kissed the back of his neck, letting the morning rough beard he had yet to shave scratch over his neck. (Y/N) chuckled and leaned back against him. “Si, I am cooking waffles, a little patience, please.” There was no bite to the sentence.

“I know… my love. I know.” Simon said. “But you just looked so delicious from behind.” That comment earned him a light jab in the ribs. He glanced at the fruit cut up for the day, perfect cubes as always, Simon didn’t know who else had such complete mastery of knives. (Y/N) always said his mother had been very strict about knife safety though there was more to it than that�� Simon simply didn’t care more than just observing it. He didn’t massively care, he just found it… strange?

“If you keep sweet talking me, then we won’t get to eat the waffles before they are stale.” (Y/N) said with a slight smirk.

Simon hummed. “That would be a disgrace to your cooking, I can’t do that against you.” He spoke.

(Y/N) smiled and leaned his head to the side, he kissed Simon gently. “Why don’t you make the table, then I will handle the waffles?”

Simon kissed him again before detaching. He went through the simple demand- request and happily made the table. He looked at their white tablecloth, it held no stains. Simon wasn’t sure how but he knew it to be magic. There was no other plausible way to explain it other than that.

Soon, scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, beans and waffles were brought to the table, alongside a cup of black tea and black coffee. Simon took a sip of the coffee and smiled. “I miss your coffee whenever I am away.”

(Y/N) sat down and looked at the man he loved more than anything else. He smiled widely. “Well, then you just have a reason to get home to me as soon as possible.” He said and chuckled.

“That I do,” Simon said.

Marriage life, away from missions and the blood, death and tears of his job, was paradise comparable. He loved every moment and hated the goodbyes, for he knew that one day may very well be the last.

-------

Simon returned home, still halfway stuck as Ghost, his mind was reeling from the latest mission. He needed (Y/N). More so than normally. He hated and dreaded when missions got bad, but (Y/N) always had a way to bring him back from even the hardest and most repressed places. Simon knew he could trust (Y/N), he knew him to be safe.

"(Nickname), I am home,” Simon said as he entered, not finding it unusual that the door was unlocked this time of the day. He got no reply which worried him. Simon entered their living room from the foyer and was met with the sight of blood, broken furniture and bullet casings, his blood went cold as all possible enemies who could have targeted the ones he loved went through his head.

Panic set in as everything started stirring around him. He pulled out his phone and dialled one of the few numbers he had bothered to save. Price. It rang once before he heard Price pick up, before he could even say hello, Ghost spoke, “He is gone. There was a struggle.”

The line went silent for a few seconds. “Look for a body, I will contact Laswell. Make sure to not touch anything, if there is a note it will be visible.” Price said before sighing. “How are you holding up?”

“Just get Laswell.” Ghost said and hung up. He searched his house for hours, going over everything but there was no ransom note or even a claim to who had done it, which was mysterious. Though he had found more guns and knives strapped around the house than he had even brought in. Something was going on.

Price entered the house with Laswell and a few others from a research team. “You live very far out.” Price said as the team began. “If you hadn’t told me I would never have been able to find this place.”

“It’s home.” Ghost said, his mask still placed on. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything or anyone.” He sighed at that. “Yet… someone came looking for me and found someone innocent.”

“We will find him, Simon.” Price said. “Don’t even worry about it.” Price added as he touched his shoulder, he could see as Simon became Ghost, the tenseness of his shoulders ease eerily, his breathing slowed down and true to Ghost fashion, only his eyes revealed the true broken man inside.

“Of course, we will.” Soap said as he entered. He looked to Ghost with a sigh. “I didnae ken what this man means to you, but he must be special. That is all any of us needs.” Soap said and placed his fist against Ghost's shoulder. Ghost ignored the obvious signs of Soap having been home and comfortable enough with his family to let not only the accent slip but also talk more casual Scots around them. He tried to stop himself from a spiral of guilt but ultimately failed as his vision started honing in around him, black spots danced around his eyes- Simon felt Price's hand on his other shoulder.

“Good to have you back with us, son.” Price said as Ghost made eye contact. Both men shared a nod as they all let the forensics work the house. They found some blood that had to be tested and ran through their database, but other than that, there was nothing to indicate who came to go through the house.

As the team headed back to base, Simon had to wonder, would (Y/N) even be alright? Was his husband being tortured or was he dead already? Those thoughts hunted him.

-----

(Y/N) had been having a perfectly normal day off definitely only waiting for his husband to return from whatever war crime he and his team was up to this time around. He liked the peace of having a husband away, Simon was a good cover that he had come to love. It was not even a surprise the moment people came through the door, especially not when (Y/N) had many enemies of his own. He had so many in fact, he had died and taken on a new identity, perhaps he should have changed his first name… nah, he liked it so much.

He sighed heavily as yet another person entered the room with whatever torture gear, they thought would make him talk. (Y/N) knew better than to talk, he had been taught since childhood not to talk. He was exceptional in surviving torture, he had the scars to prove it, scars his husband never saw as all sex was done with the lights off, he knew his husband had issues with his own scars so he simply never pushed.

“You are going to give us what we want.” The not at all creative nor fun torturer said.

“For the last time, I do not know where this Ghost person is, I don't even know them!” He pleaded with false fear. He needed to get out, Simon was bound to be home anytime now and he just should not see the bruises and cuts all over his body… Simon would ask too many questions and… (Y/N) realised he would need to wait.

“Oh please, I know who you are, Iron Spider.” The torturer said making (Y/N) still completely. The tension in the room grew as (Y/N) stilled cold dead eyes on the man's back. “So, tell me, where is this little… pet project of yours.”

“If you knew who I was, then why even try to take me, I won't talk and you know that, don’t you?” He said, each voice careful and with a still tone.

“I have gotten Red Room Widows to talk, I can get you to talk as well.” The man said, bringing over what looked like a fucked-up knife. “Well, shall we?”

—

The team landed on the ground outside of a barn in southern Jutland, the air whipped around them as the helicopter took off again. Everyone was deadly still as they approached the barn, each second felt like hours as blood rushed through their ears, deafening them. Everything was alive around them. The mission was anything but simple.

One quick entry of the barn and already 4 enemy soldiers were dead. They had gotten reliable intel from one of Laswell’s more shady friends. (Y/N) was going to be there and not in good condition. Ghost used the anger of knowing (Y/N), his husband, was getting tortured.

They went down the hatch, killing everyone in the way, this seemed too easy but Ghost did not care, they had taken something of his and he was going to get it back.

Chatter filled his ears but it wasn’t important enough to be filtered through, they cleared room after room, getting everything dealt with before entering the final room. A man stood behind a torn up and bloodied (Y/N), two of his fingers were missing, and his shins looked broken and fucked up beyond repair, Ghost, at a single glance, could count well over 20 visible stab wounds, the worst part is, (Y/N)s right arms skin had been peeled back showing muscle tissue and veins freely. Ghost knew who this man was, his codename was infamous despite how silly it was, Chip, no last name or first name, allegedly some criminal family empire nepo-baby, a rumour had it he was ex-military. He didn’t doubt that at all.

“Ah, the infamous Ghost, thank you so much for making my job easier for me.” This Chip said and shot at Ghost with no warning. Ghost felt the bullet lodged into his shoulder, it felt like it had gone straight through but something felt wrong, he couldn’t hear how much (Y/N) screamed despite seeing his mouth move and himself trash around in the chair, Simon knelt down as pain soared through him, the bullet had been laced with something and he didn’t know what.

Someone pushed him onto his back and applied pressure on the wound. He barely remembered anything as his thoughts went dark.

—

Swimming

Cold wet

Swimming

Simon was swimming in water where he knew not the direction of up or down. All was pitch black, too dark for his own thoughts to even shine a light through it.

Simon knew time had passed but not how much

He was swimming again

In and out

Up and down

Careful and around

Voiceless

Thoughtless

Cold

Cold as ice

—

Watching Simon recover not only from a well-placed bullet wound but also from the poison of this Chip person was hard, (Y/N) knew he should have just risked blowing his cover and gotten out. His husband, who didn’t deserve anything like this, was dying. His contact was working on a cure, but Chip, being the son of the infamous Pitfall Viper, his poison would be bulletproof… (Y/N) had to stop his dark humour, it was only making him feel worse than he actually should.

“It has been a week,” Price's now familiar voice came from the door. “How are you holding up?”

Like Shit. (Y/N) thought but didn’t say it out loud. “I could be better but I have hope.”

“… Listen… I spoke with Kate and they interrogated this guy… Iron Spider is a myth and legend, why is he claiming that you are him…” Price said.

“If you ask, you already know the answer, John… I am not in the business anymore; I haven’t been in 20 years.” (Y/N) answered the question.

“Does Simon know?” Logically the next question.

“No.”

A sigh came from Price, reminding him just how shitty he felt. “Don’t you think he deserves to know?” Price is a man with a heart despite everything.

“… Tell me something Captain,” (Y/N) turned to him. “Wouldn’t you be hiding your ugly past from someone you love to protect them? I erased my whole existence, spent a decade making certain that I was named a myth and not a real breathing man.”

Price leaned back. “So, you love him?”

“With whatever is left of my soul and my whole heart… I was born into a world of murder and killing. Whatever we did and learned was always just to kill more as more people, there wasn’t an end… so, when I did see an end to it, I took it and I got out, no one before me or after me will ever get that privilege.”

Price frowned. “You say it is still happening today.”

“Are you even surprised? You have been working with anti-terrorism for as long as I have heard about you, why would people not be using children to start and end wars? It is no different than all child soldiers you have been shot at or shot yourself.” (Y/N) was calm, far too calm for Price's liking.

“That is different.”

“It really isn’t. You all get on this high and mighty horse. Yes, you have by all means saved the world from World War Three, but you are all just as bad as every single war criminal out there. This whole imperialist ideology you have been brainwashed with…. It is worse than any brainwashing done by the red room because you actually believe in it.” (Y/N) grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair and left the room, leaving the captain to think and stew. (Y/N) knew he wasn’t going to run away or even escape from Simon, he loved Simon and Simon was dying for him… guilt he didn’t know he could feel wrapped its nauseating coils around his stomach, trying to force bile up through his throat. He didn’t allow it, he suppressed it deep down where all his other weaknesses resided. Weakness Mother was supposed to have trained him. He grimaced as he poured himself some hot coffee, it burnt his tongue… life as a civilian truly had made him weaker, Chip had been right at that, but (Y/N) prided himself on not being weak enough to reveal anything about Simon. He brought back a cup for both him and Price. He gave the man the cup and sat down.

“He wanted information on Simon, where he was and I think it is safe to assume we know why now… from what I know, you should be well aware of his mother, The Pitfall Viper.” (Y/N) said, humming lightly under his breath. “She was…. She is, she didn’t die, her accounts are still active and while it isn’t uncommon for others to run it, her whole family are very, the best word would be independent, from the rest of the more refined criminal empire of the world.”

Price looked down at his cup. “So, will his poison kill him?” Price asked, a slight shake to his voice betraying the cool and collected ‘Captain John Price’ persona he had.

“No… I have someone working on the antidote. It will be rough but he already has been given something to slow it down.” He informed the other before taking a sip of his now moderately hot coffee. “And if he doesn’t make it till then, I will work with you to bring down anyone or anything responsible for his death.”

“And if he survives?”

(Y/N) paused at that, the words swelled in his mouth to choke him. He had avoided it for years, been lying straight to Simon’s face… he wasn’t sure Simon would trust him after this. “He knows the whole truth… and if he still wants me, I will repair everything and do anything to make it alright.”

“And when he doesn’t?” Price asked.

(Y/N) looked at Simon. “Then I leave and no one will ever see me again.”

“Little hard to do on a wheelchair.” Price said.

(Y/N) chuckled and looked at Price. “You think that I don’t already have a plan in place? I survived the Red Room and survived escaping it. Sure, my sisters are more deadly than I am, but you can’t be a slob and escape.”

“How old were you when you escaped?” Price asked.

(Y/N) smiled a bit as he leaned back. “15. Which makes me 36 this year and Simon is only a few years older than I am. Price, I… love Simon, he is my weakness and the only one I would trust with my whole life. I have been taking care of him and him. We are good for each other and you can’t deny that.”

“I am not denying it, I have seen more of Simon than of Ghost for the last 3 years. Thank you for that, it is the only reason why I haven’t had you arrested yet.” Price said.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, you haven’t had me arrested because you fully know that you can’t, you have nothing on me, no one does. Iron Spider doesn’t exist and no one can testify that he does. He is a myth created to scare rookies. Don’t fuck up or get corrupt or the Iron Spider will get you.”

“The Soldier Bogeyman then.” Price said. “And you are content with that?”

“I am more than content with it. I love it. It means I can be with Simon and bring him back from the brink.”

Price stood up as a nurse entered the room. “I hope you are right about this.” Price left.

The nurse waited until Price left before looking at (Y/N). “You know, I never thought he would shut up.” The ‘nurse’ said.

(Y/N) chuckled a bit. “It is good to see you too, V.”

“You are lucky my idiotic son writes everything down, but I can’t promise this will cure him, he may stay in his coma for weeks or forever,” V said.

“That is fine, just give him a chance.” He said before watching her inject it into the IV drip. They said their quick goodbyes and (Y/N) stayed truly loyal to Simon and stayed while he slept.

—

It took 5 weeks before Simon woke up. (Y/N) was present and coached Simon through waking up. He had lost a lot of muscle mass, and he was much thinner than usual, but compared to a regular human, Simon still held some shape.

The conversation they had a week later once they were both in the sanctity of home was full of tears and apologies, Simon understood and knew but it still hurt. But they eventually figured it out. Simon’s rehabilitation and (Y/N)’s eventual rehabilitation were done together. (Y/N) taught Simon how to handle a civilian life away from the military and the action. It was hard but, in the end, they carved out a beautiful life with a retired service dog called Riley.

______

Aaaand that's it! Happy ending for you all!

If you liked this leave a like and reblog it! Reblogs helps more people discover my writing and liking doesn't do anything other then archive it in your own like folder, so please reblog it.

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#cod x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod men x male reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x you #male reader #lgbt #simon ghost riley #fanfiction

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maddilynmuse · 6 months ago

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Two Stars

Chapter 1/Prologue

Heya guys! Once more, I am going feral over In Stars and Time and making fanfic. I intend to at least finish Bared Teeth and Open Hands before jumping into anything big, buuuuut this fun little plot bunny hit and I just HAD to get it out.

I meant for this to be funny but oops my hand slipped and there’s an enby crying now.

That said! Post game and 2hat spoilers below! Read at thine own risk! Enjoy~

Now available on AO3

Next >

Loop and Siffrin get Freaky Friday’d.

*~*~*~*

“I wish that Loop could be themselves with us, I wish Loop could be themselves with us, I wish Loop could be themselves with us…”

———

Something warm was pressed to their back, moving rhythmically, as something else wrapped securely around their front. The smell of sandalwood deodorant wasn’t quite enough to mask the scent of sweat, and for some reason that combination of stimulus was enough to make tears leak from their closed eye. The haziness of sleep was washed away in a heart-crushing wave of warmth.

Isabeau.

No, no. Not Isabeau. The Fighter. Isabeau, their Isabeau, was gone… right?

But somehow they were here.

They didn’t dare open their eye, afraid to break whatever fragile illusion was making their heart—heart, they had a heart!—twist in the best kind of pain: less like an injury, and more like stretching a long-sore muscle. It felt warm, right even. If only for that moment, they were loved, and seems they truly were still Siffrin at heart, greedily absorbing the comfort even when they didn’t even understand why they were receiving it. Was this a dream? Their own… world? (Was that how it worked? They’re pretty sure it wasn’t). Some peaceful afterlife? Maybe the Universe spun sugar for them, allowing a nice dream as they faded from existence, role finished.

Stop questioning it. Just enjoy.

“Sif…?” Mumbled a sleepy, wonderfully husky voice. “You okay buddy?” They were pulled a little closer. He was touching them. Willingly!

They meant to say something witty or clever, maybe a pun, anything disarming really! But what came out of their mouth—they had a mouth!—was a little sob.

The Fighter tried to pull his hand away, but they grabbed it reflexively. It couldn’t end, not yet! It was embarrassing, needy, taking advantage of his kindness, but they put his hand to their face, guiding it to stroke their cheek. Their eye rolled up at the sensation, the brush of skin against skin, the warmth, even the little beads of sweat. It was him.

He took over, thumb stroking their cheek, wiping away their tears, while his other fingers threaded into their hair—they had hair! Their breath caught, coming out in a shuddering, relieved sigh with only a hint of sobbing at the end. After so long with no contact, after so long stuck in that starry form, they were drunk on the sensations: the subtle pull of hair against their scalp, the in and out against their back, the way their own breath fell in the rhythm, the thrum of a heart in their chest, the grounded security of a strong arm, the smell of him, the sheer warmth.

It was dizzying, overwhelming, too much to think. They never wanted it to end.

“I’m here, buddy. It’s okay,” Isabeau crooned.

That broke whatever remained. They cried openly as the long-tangled barbed wire of stress and jealousy and loneliness that’d been choking their very soul finally snapped and left them free. Naked, unprotected, but free. And here, at least, they were safe.

“I love you.”

Caught up in the moment, Loop could pretend that was meant for them.

———

And back in Dormont, under the night-dark shade of the favor tree, Siffrin stared in quiet horror at the stars dotting what should’ve been his hands.

*-*-*

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

#isat fanfic #isat 2hat #isat siffrin #isat loop #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat isabeau #freaky friday

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 5 months ago

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s3 episode 16 thoughts

(giggling and kicking my feet) it’s mulder and scully time <3

and it was a GOOD episode!!! i was sad, but damn was i compelled! back to the very beginning of the episode to begin the note-taking journey, with a tiny recap of where we left off beneath the “keep reading” bar…

hehehehe i am excited!! i love to spend the evening with the ultimate duo. and we have so much to cover!

so many twists and turns to walk down! krycek is back! skinner is hurt! scully is sleuthing! mulder is in hong kong! we had best begin!

YAAAS we got another “previously on the x files” <- i loathed these at first for throwing me off my typical groove, but now that i know we only bust them out on special occasions (multiple part episodes) i look forward to them

ugh scully is so pretty. “you say that every time” and it’s true every time???

we get a recap: flash bang alien, inky eyes, skinner on a hunt for answers before being interrupted, scully’s dad’s friend johansen, the rat bastard

timeskip to 1953. a man from johansen’s squad who is covered in burns is telling his story, and it is being recorded. he is being visited by those who claim to want to bring him to justice, but he says he won’t tell.

so after johansen started a mutiny and locked the rest of the sailors in the sub, those trapped on the lower levels knocked the dude with the inky eyes on the head with a wrench. so he is knocked tf out. and liquid started pouring from his eyes (BLEAUGH) and into a drain. the survivor who has all the burns and who is recounting this calls the liquid “the enemy”

a guy that looks a lot like matty healy (but much cleaner) is asking him what he means by calling liquid “the enemy”. so the interviewee says that the thing went back to where it came from.

GASP!!!!!! HE ADDRESSES THE MATTY HEALY LOOKING FELLOW AS “MR. MULDER”!!!!!! oh this is JUICY!!! and the camera pans over to another man putting in a cigarette!! GASP!!! WE KNOW WHO THAT IS!!!!

baby cig man says “you can trust all of us” (<- LIES, LYING, SAID BY A GUY WHO IS LYING)

(you can tell the actor playing baby cig man had just one line but he worked SO hard to get cig man's voice right... it made me giggle)

why does young mr mulder look kinda cute. aww. so little. almost wanna squish his cheeks.

they changed the intro again. smh! messing with my rhythm.

anyway, back to main plot. scully’s rolling up to the hospital to find skinner, where she is met by agent fuller and agent caleca, two names i do not think i have heard before. scully asks for hair and fiber from the crime scene and these two are like “we don’t have that yet” so she says “um get it?” (not really but basically) (and they claim it was some random guy that shot him… not buying it)

oh! skinner is being wheeled out! she’s off to go investigate. now if it were ME being rolled about with my shirt off after a gunshot wound and emergency surgery, i would not want people seeing that. but hey, she’s a doctor so maybe she’s chill like that. still! i’d be soooo embarrassed omg

SHE GRABS HIS HAND OMG!!!!! he opens his eyes a tiny tiny bit and tells her that he has seen the man who shot him before!!!

man, i thought just the hand grabbing was gonna be all tender, and it was! but getting a clue at who did it was a bonus too

back to the rat bastard and mulder. at least krycek seems aware that mulder can and will kick his ass and is deferential to him.

scully is looking over skinner’s chart. OH! she asked for guards. and she wants them NOW. she does not CARE about your excuses. WOO!!! she says idgaf if you two agents stand out there YOURSELVES, get GUARDS ON him!!! YAAAAS!

back to krycek and mulder cam. mulder notices that they are being followed and tells him to speed up. at gunpoint! and this mystery vehicle runs them off the road!!!!!!

noooo, their faces are all smushed in. someone pulls rat bastard out and asks where the tape is, but the fellow who attacked him gets flash banged, because again, krycek has alien flash banging powers.

but poor mulder still has his bloody heady on the dash :( he sees some odd flashing

scully gets called into the lab and this guy has some info on the dude that shot skinner. she says it will take too much time to run the hair sequence, but to do it anyway.

(also, i can’t tell if this is the same guy from the lab as before that clearly had a crush on her or if this is a different one but idk i guess it doesn’t really matter... he doesn’t seem like her type)

so the two men that krycek flash banged last night are now in treatment for radiation, and who is visiting them but cancer man!!! he is once again lighting up as they are dying. he bends down and moves a bandage, and sees the eyes of a patient meet his. but he says to HAVE THE BODIES DESTROYED OMFG HE DOES NOT GIVE A FUUUUCK THIS GUY IS EVIL!!!!

mulder at da hospital. bandage on his head. awwwwww :( it’s so sad and pathetic... he’s baby.

AND SCULLY IS THERE!!!! WITH A SMILE!!!!!! WOOHOO I WISH I COULD LIVE IN THIS MOMENT FOREVER!!! YES YES THOSE ARE MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS!!

the police found him and he mentioned “we” so she says “who’s we” and he has to say KRYCEK… she is (very gently) confused

an excellent person to have by your bedside whilst recovering.

she tells him that she is sorry for the bad news, but skinner has been shot as well. but the doctors seem to think he’ll be okay. and she has an idea on who it is that pulled the trigger!

GASP!!! she pulls out the scans on the hair. two of them, in fact. the first being from the man who shot skinner, and the second being from the man who shot melissa. and they’re a PERFECT MATCH!!!! CONSPIRACY!!! CONSPIRACY, I CRY!!!

(shrill violins, fade to black)

oh! it’s the united nations alien council. um i realize now i don’t know their actual name. but you know who i’m referring to, right? the guys. the gang. the squad. just a couple of dudes.

they’re discussing the site “WHERE THEY RECOVERED THE UFO” well! there you have it! word of god confirmation! it’s indeed a ufo that the french sailors came across in the last episode!

“it seems we have an information leak, gentlemen”, one of them announces, which makes me say, okaaaay ominous <3

and they say cig man has responded in a way no one could have predicted… omg was he behind the skinner thing…?

scully visiting skinner <3 asking how he is feeling <3 he doesn’t seem surprised about the news his shooter was the same as melissa’s, especially because those three men had warned him before about pursuing her case. he says she should be careful about saying that the case was shut down because people don’t want it to be caught but. it’s looking them right in the face.

OH! the man that shot him was one of the ones who attacked him a few months back on the stairwell! well i didn’t even catch this. some detail noticer i am. AND KRYCEK was the other one!!!! yes, and they stole the tape yes yes i’m recalling!

ohhh it’s serious. he tells her that she cannot afford anger, that if she’s angry she’ll make a mistake. “i’ll be okay”, she says (voice breaking) (<- said by a woman who is lying)

he says that if she can’t keep her head, it’s okay to step away… this feels very chekov’s gun… but she says that’s exactly what they want. OH! i love that she knows she can get to the bottom of this. i love that she believes in herself.

scully is furiously typing on her laptop. asking to devote full bureau resources to finding krycek. got her glasses on n everything. terribly beautiful whilst angry. she is saying he can explain everything that is going on, but i don’t think anyone is gonna listen to herrrr because the fbi does not give a fuck!!!

scully is now entering their office to see the giant yellow scuba suit. “it looked great on me in the store” says mulder, who needs to make a joke or people will die. perhaps he needs to make a joke even more when people really ARE dying.

so, why is it here? great question. it was covered in oil, the french guy was covered in oil, his wife was covered in oil, and it’s all diesel oil from world war two submarines. a new meaning to the term “oiled up”.

theory time with mulder: it’s a medium for an alien creature for body-jumping. he laughs when she laughs, aware of how ridiculous it sounds, but also aware of her thinly veiled fury; what else could he do? he does know how it sounds, he does know what she needs, but the truth. the truth.

so what does this thing living in the oil want with krycek? a great question.

omg guy from the lone gunmen is ice skating! and so is another one. wow a team bonding mission <3 AND THE OTHER ONE!!! FROHIKE!!!

is this something they do often... no, this must be a sleuthing mission.

frohike goes in a locker and opens something. GIVES IT TO MULDER!!! YAAAS THE TAPE!!! they say he should “call upon their services more often” YAAAS they want that sweet sweet agent time <3

but noooo! the tape is gone!!!! mulder gets mad and throws the empty case. still, a reunion with his pals <3

cig man is watching tv. sipping some sort of liquor.

(whenever i see someone drinking a beverage with ice in it on a tv show, i think of that one tiktok of a prop master explaining how they make prop ice and the many different kinds they can do. i think this looks like glass ice to me. shoutout to people who make videos about props; you make my heart very happy)

BRO... THE TAPE JUST APPEARS. KRYCEK HAS ENTERED????? but the guy who shot skinner is there too!!! and is holding krycek at gunpoint!!!!

cig man watches krycek's eyes go all inky (correction: OILY) and black. omg……

cancer man is rolling up 15 minutes late for the UN alien meeting. lmao it's funny in a way. he moved the ufo to a new location! he promises it will be absolutely inaccessible.

someone asks why he won’t bring it to nevada like the others. probs because even the normies know about nevada as the alien place. dweeb.

GASP! they want answers for what happened to skinner. cig man says for all he knows, it's just random. even though they have a drawing of the guy who did it, who is “one of his”, he’s denying it. AND THEY’RE ALL GROANING BECAUSE NO ONE BELIEVES HIM FOR A SECOND LMAOOOOOOO

(so funny to me that despite being on the super secret alien council, cig man still manages to be unprofessional and lie through his teeth to people who seem far more competent, even when secrecy effects the entire planet. something very funny about him lowkey sucking at his job)

so he needs to get the shooter out of the country NOW or else skinner can make an ID and no one can stop the arrest!

back to the agents trying to piece things together. the lone gunmen are babbling on about how to best find what was written on the case but mulder has the secret: rubbing a lil pencil over top LMAOOO. he finds a phone number!!

and who picks it up when he calls but… the un alien club!!!

it’s the well groomed man!!! mulder says krycek gave him the number. and he asks to meet with mulder. allegedly in central park? is this a trap...

so, the dude who did the shooting is named luis. the other agents are saying to scully they can’t look any further than they already have, but she says keep looking, she’s seen stranger. and the lab guy says “i believe she has” when she leaves lmaoooo GET UP. he's down bad fr. pathetic. get up.

i mean i am too but i'd like to think i'd have more dignity about it

mulder in da park. is he alone… are they gonna get him??? the well-groomed man meets him. they’re playing some mental chess with who can ask each other what. so he tells mulder there WAS a ufo at the bottom of the ocean that was shot down during ww2, and a salvage attempt had been made, but there were complications.

so it looks like they’re both looking for krycek. but the well groomed man leaves by saying “anyone can be gotten to”. very very ominous. and mulder calls scully and says check on skinner RIGHT NOW.

she gets down there and he’s NOT THERE??? apparently he was moved to a different hospital. WHO TOOK HIM?????

scully slaps her badge on the door of a ambulance on the side of the road and asks if he’s got a skinner in there. this dude says yeah and he must be freaked tf out, but she’s coming along for the ride now.

skinner wants to know what she’s doing here, and she says she just wanted him to be safe. she pulls her gun out and opens the door and WHO IS IT BUT LUIS!!! WHO FIRES AT SKINNER!

TRAFFIC GUNFIGHT CHASE!!! luis just got hit by a CAR!!! she got him!!!

and she’s SCREAMING at him. screaming like we have never heard before, are you the man that killed my sister??? he’s begging for his life. he says he can tell her where krycek is…

the police roll up, telling her to put the gun down. and she sadly holds up her badge and explains that she’s basically the police but actually better so y’all are kinda late to the situation. they take him into custody. and she’s tearing up. i do not trust that he doesn’t have a poison tooth in there.

she calls mulder, who is rummaging through his car, and tells him that he was right, someone was going to kill skinner. and it IS the man who shot her sister. and allegedly krycek is going to north dakota. mulder says please meet me in new york with two tickets to north dakota asap.

what’s in north dakota, she asks? the salvaged ufo!!!

cut to north dakota cam. agents are rolling up, and how terribly i wish i could see what happened on the flight and ride up to there. how tense the silence was, how valiant the attempts at breaking it were. UGH. someone pls write the fic someday i’m already emotional.

she’s got a vest thing on and it’s cute. i get that we have bigger things at hand but i can still appreciate a vest moment!!

they go into a silo... but the door locks behind them!!! they go 8 stories down!! that is a lot!!!!

now they’re opening a door to what looks like a nuclear waste thing. idk i don't know much about nukes. but it’s just a big empty silo. so they have to check 199 more.

except they hear a thunk in the tunnels!!!

scully finds one of the (barely alive?) burn victims that had been flash banged by krycek just as mulder announces “he’s here”, and a large group of soldiers runs in

OH! they go to start running from the soldiers and he grabs her. it was so subtle but so sweet. i’m gonna gnaw at something.

NOOO! they’re surrounded!!! and cancer man is coming up. she yells that they saw bodies in there and he says “you saw nothing” <- wow absolutely garbage fellow has sunken further than even before by adding gaslighting to his resume

so they’re getting taken into custody but cancer man is going deeper, and he tells the soldiers to take the bodies away. he goes down to the nuclear thingy, and lights up, which i feel would be a bad choice in a circumstance where things were actually nuclear, but okay.

we see something very dark and oily? and hear people throwing up. OH! it’s krycek, with the black stuff pouring from his eyes and mouth. on top of a triangular looking ufo. the oil is pouring into a spiral thingy? and it gets sucked up.

MULDER AT HIS DESK WITH HIS GLASSES ON!!!! AND A HEALING CUT ON HIS FOREHEAD!!! could a man be any more attractive? it’s debatable.

knock knock. who is it? it’s skinner!!!! limping, and not supposed to be back in the office for a few more weeks!

mulder gets up to shake his hand and help him across the room. a right gentleman, he can be. OHHH so this is why i have seen those bloopers of skinner with a cane LMAOOOO

he’s looking for scully though lmao. yeah not interested in YOU, mulder.

mulder thanks him for getting shot because he stood up to the evil. he’s saying no, no, i wasn’t doing that, at all. i don’t know what you’re talking about. but not in a humble brag way, in a denying allegations sort of way. it's interesting. my brain is still stuck on this moment.

he says that he “mistakenly” believed he could bring melissa’s murder to justice. mulder says hey, what do you mean by that? so that is why skinner needs to go see her.

she's out and about, though. she’s bringing flowers to melissa’s grave NOOOOO :((((((( she doesn’t even say anything, she just sits there.

UNTIL MULDER COMES AND BRINGS FLOWERS TOO??? and she has to brace herself to see him.

he touches her shoulder gently before he sets them down. oh my GOSH

she tells him about how someone told her the dead speak to you from beyond the grave, and that is what a conscience is. he says that’s interesting, that he’s never thought of it that way. a man who sees her suffering and doesn't know what to say to make it better.

and she thought that finding the man who killed her would bring closure but it didn’t.

he grabs her by the arm at this point, and says he needs to talk to her. tells her that they found luis dead. whoever was behind it all tried to cover it up.

“i think the dead are speaking to us, mulder. demanding justice” <-stop. stop i’ll cry. you think i won’t cry? you think, for some reason, i won’t sob? i won’t collapse into a heap? you’d be incorrect. you’d be naive and mistaken. you’d be an utter fool, even in a world of fools.

(muffled screaming of me trying to keep it together)

but funny i should type that, because we also hear some muffled screaming on camera, that of krycek trapped in the ufo?? or in the room with it, deep in the nuclear silo?

episode ends with his screams.

WHAT!!!

so much has happened. and really one thing is on my mind: who is gonna hug scully? who is gonna tell her that the anger is okay, even if it’s futile? who is gonna hold the baddest woman alive close and listen? even if all she has to say is silence?

RAAAAAAAAH i’m gonna CRY.

i feel like i could write another thinkpiece here but i also feel like i need to let this one sit for a bit.

scully holding skinner’s hand, scully waiting by mulder’s bedside, scully saving skinner’s life, scully screaming, so guttural, at the man that killed her sister. scully in glasses and scully in vests and scully in coats. furious and devastating and calculating and guilty.

i have some major questions re: krycek and cancer man and why don’t they just deal with him already??? like for real. i know the answer is gonna be that someone from higher up would just replace him, but i do think it is funny how he goes about blatantly committing all those crimes and then clocks into work the next day like nothing happened. and no one can act like anything happened because they’ll tear the fbi down if they do. we all have a coworker like that, don’t we? that sucks terribly but you can’t do anything about it because the inside supports how terrible they suck? sigh. many such cases.

krycek, if i’m supposed to feel bad for you, i don’t. starve in that ufo and see if i give a damn.

skinner denying any concept of heroism… i think he’s doing it to keep himself safe. like he said to scully, any sort of accusations are risky. i don’t think he wants anyone to get the idea that he is a hero, even if he is in reality. i also think he has a complex and a great fear of being PERCEIVED as a hero after the things he did during war, and who knows what else he did but hasn't spoken about. but interesting still that he would deny a gesture as simple as being thanked.

there are many dots in my head. i would like to think they are connecting, but honestly i’ve got matty healy dupe mr. mulder on my mind still just because it was so funny. and then also scully angst. and a deep deep desire to get into that car on the drive from the airport to north dakota, to just listen in on whatever went down. maybe i’ll have to write it if no one else does! isn’t that terrible? when no one else will write the exact thing you want to read, so you have to do it?

(i’ve actually never written fic before so that would be a major commitment. but a one shot here or there sounds interesting)

anyway. lots on my mind. it was a good episode, but kept a lot of things unsolved. which is the point, i know, but they dangle the answers in front of you!! then snatch them away!! i wanted a tiny bit more of the tea.

but i guess, on the other hand, we know what the tea is, don’t we? we know cancer man and the UN alien squad are hiding this, they’re aware that this alien creature can cause radiation, they’re aware of ufos and they’re covering them up. they might not be aware of the exact nature of the creature, but they ARE aware of it, and that it’s a weapon of mass destruction. what isn’t clear is how tf krycek got roped into this. but again i really dgaf about his loser ass.

i’m plotting. i’m pinning things on boards and tying them together with string. and then making predictions from there.

(actually, think it’s cool we see a bunch of different kinds of aliens on this show. there were the poison blood clones, standard alien 👽 fellow, and now the oil creature. fun that we get multiple perspectives and takes on what could be. perhaps scarier than just plain old little 👽, but!!! interesting for worldbuilding purposes)

back to plotting….

#it's interesting reading back (since i wrote these notes yesterday) but what stuck out to me the most were the quiet moments #the silence of their drive to the missile silo. mulder saying nothing as he dropped the flowers on the grave.#scully grasping skinner's hand and listening to his whispers. scully gently asking mulder what happened when he awoke in the hospital #there were lots of huge emotional moments like her screaming at luis and krycek dealing with the monsters he brought upon himself #but sometimes tragedy and profound themes are best told in the silence #how quiet her voice was when she said she though the dead were listening.#and the steely understated rage of telling the others that skinner needed to be guarded and begging the fbi for help #hmm. my brain is still turning these moments around in circles in my head #it was a really good episode! and i have a lot of thoughts! so many they get a bit ramble-y!#which usually means i was very invested!#let me know what you thought off each twist and turn and which moments made you the most emo! i want to know!#juni's x files liveblog #3x16 #the x files #txf

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 1 year ago

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Hey there Slug! I hope you ain't too buys and might have a lil fun with this one! Of each individual character, what are your respective favorite songs of theirs and why?

This is an easy ask to answer, so I'mma clear it from the pile and get to some older ones eventually.

I assume you mean solo songs only, right?

Under a cut for length because there are a bajillion boys in this series

Ichirou: I like his VA's rapping work in just about everything; he's really solid. Stage Ichirou also has a youthful quality I appreciate a lot, but of the main series songs... probably Break the Wall. It's high energy in a fun way. It also ties into a creative project I've been chewing on for years that's near and dear to my heart, although I'm not sure if I'll ever put it to paper and share it anywhere.

Jirou: I think Jirou's VA has a very pretty singing voice, so I like his softer songs. In general, I admire the "softer" aspects of Jirou's character and think that's where he shines best. So probably School of IKB, although I adore his choruses in Re:start.

Saburou: Requiem. I'm very, very, very into things that commit to being over the top and goofy, and I also enjoy combining classical and baroque elements with other genres. What's not to like here?

Samatoki: Gangsta's Paradise. The high speed rap is technically compelling. I generally appreciate v. fast rap since I enjoy learning and singing them. If the stage plays count, I really enjoy the emotion Samatoki's stage actor brings to Come Back to Me.

Juuto: ...There is some interesting text in the Personality section of Juuto's wiki page. (I have it pulled up to quick reference the song lists.) If anyone with wiki edit powers is reading this, you may want to clean that up... Anyway, I feel like they give Juuto great background music in just about every song, but Uncrushable takes the cake for me. I really like the BG music in that.

Riou: Move Your Body Till You Die, hands down. Goofy as fuck. Also, great workout music.

Ramuda: I find his main voice pretty grating, and his usual styles of music aren't my favorite in general. So Ramuda songs don't do a lot for me. I appreciate Pink Colored Love for plot reasons, though.

Gentarou: The slower Hypmic songs rarely do a lot for me, but I found myself enjoying Yume no Kanata a lot. Not sure I know why, necessarily...

Dice: 3$EVEN was one of the first songs I really enjoyed in Hypmic, and I still like its high energy today. In general, I'm impressed by Dice's VA's rapping ability and appreciate his parts in group songs a lot.

Jakurai: Like I said earlier, I'm not usually a fan of slow songs, so none of Jakurai's solos or duets have ever stood out to me. With that being said, I think Jakurai's speech style and slower rhythms makes him more fun and easier to translate w/ full rhyme and rhythm than many other characters. Like I think Labyrinth Wall would be fun to do a full cover of with syllable matching rhymes and line length while simultaneously trying to stick as close to the core meaning and tone as possible.

Hifumi: Both Champagne Gold and Don't Stop the Party are high-energy bops and great for working out. Slight preference for the former. I also really like his singing voice in group songs.

Doppo: Doppo's angrier verses in group songs are fun, but I'm especially fond of BLACK OR WHITE. In particular, I enjoy the DOTAMA cover. I'm a big DOTAMA fan for both his lyrical strength and considerable rapping chops. He's got a lot of songs that are really punchy and angry in this exact vein, and I love throwing on a playlist of his stuff while grinding out tedious work projects. Hahaha. Just rapping along "I don't want to work. I don't want to work. I don't want to work. BUT HERE I AM, WORKING!!!!" furiously under my breath.

Sasara: Comedian Rhapsody is really fun. This is another song I would love, love, love, love to try and do a full translation w/ preservation of rhyme/line length/jokes. Not for sharing--at that point it's just kinda showing off--but it's fun to chew on bits of it when I have moments of free time.

Roshou: Like most of the slow song characters, Roshou's solos aren't my favorite. I guess I prefer Under Sail to Own Stage for its background music.

Rei: All of Rei's songs are wild to the point of me liking them for the goofiness. If you commit to the bit, I'll enjoy it 9 times out of 10. Doesn't matter what the bit is. Shiro to Kuro is probably my favorite. LOVE the "heh heh we are up to no good" NPC villain energy of that song. But also, shout-out to his singing in Enishi, even if it's nigh-on intelligible to me. I love the hell out of Enishi in general.

Kuko: The king of goof himself. Sou Gyaran BAM is probably my favorite, but I am--to some degree--into virtually every song he's in.

Juushi: Wow, I'm listed as a source on this wiki page, lol. Anyway. Juushi's aesthetic as a whole isn't my cup of tea, but I have a soft spot for Moonlight Shadow, because the first two times I heard it were on Spotify shuffle while I just so happened to be scrubbing a toilet. So for a couple months after, I would put Bad Ass Temple on every time I cleaned the bathroom. Hahaha.

Hitoya: One and Two, and Law is so fucking goofy. I adore it. The live version with the airhorn? Chef's kiss.

Otome: Fuck it, let's do the ladies too. Out of all of her musical appearances, I like Just Do It the most. It adds such an interesting strength to her character, and the English portions are done super well.

Ichijiku: Love, love, love her part in Verbal Justice for its strength. This is yet another song I think would be fun to do a hell TL of, and then I remind myself that trying to rhyme "Kadenokouji" in English is a fool's errand.

Nemu: Her singing voice in WINK is nice, but I love her part in Femme Fatale for its energy. "I'm Nemu, and this is my masterpiece" Fuck yeah it is

#not a translation #asks #personal asks

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orionsstory · 6 months ago

Text

Grandekofi | Vampire AU

SHE'S HERE !!! Been in the works for several months but she's here !! There's no like. super structured plot these are just gonna be a fun collection of one-shots that I'll update periodically lol -

The club's music blared and the lights bathed the partygoers in hues of purple, the mass of people dancing in the middle all seeming to blend together as they moved to the rhythm. Everyone except one person. She stood out amongst the crowd, her tall stature and modelesque features seemed to draw in everyone around her, Tia included.

However, unlike the others, she had never found the courage to approach the woman. Tia cursed her anxiousness, having to watch her from afar night after night. She first came a few months ago, catching Tia's attention from the moment she walked through the door.

She didn't know her name, but she knew that she seemed to come to the club twice a month, always leaving with someone around 2 am. Maybe it was a bit ridiculous for her to have a crush on someone she'd never met, who'd never even looked in her direction, but Tia couldn't help herself. She found herself staring at the woman, even looking forward to seeing her every other Friday night.

"Why don't you just talk to her?"

A voice drew Tia out of her thoughts, turning her attention to the source.

"Huh?"

"I said why don't you go talk to her? It's obvious you like her, you gawk at her every time we come in." Hannah continued, "It can't hurt to try! Put yourself out there!"

"No, no way..." Tia shook her head, "She's never even looked at me Han, and what would I even say?"

"Something like...'Hi, my name is Tia Kofi, I think you're hot, do you want to make out in the bathroom?' It's simple!"

Tia flushed at Hannah's remark, rolling her eyes as her friend cackled beside her. "Real funny, I'm sure that'll work and not just scare her off." She shook her head and laughed. "Let's just go get some drinks, I need some after this week."

As she and Hannah turned towards the bar, she could have sworn she saw the mysterious woman looking at her. But that must have just been her imagination, right?

Tia was having a blast. Choriza and her sister Arantxa had joined the two, which kept her distracted for most of the night. From learning Spanish with Arantxa to listening to Choriza's stories, Tia found herself getting lost in the conversation around her. Time just seemed to fly by as it soon became midnight. She didn't think this night could get any better- until Arantxa tapped her on the arm.

"That girl over there keeps looking at you~"

Arantxa gestured towards the sea of people on the dance floor, giggling as Tia looked to where she was vaguely pointing.

She chuckled, "Who? You're gonna have to be more specific, there's like a million people here."

"That one, the tall one! Look!" Arantxa pointed towards a corner of the club, where none other than the beautiful tall woman stood. Tia's face grew bright red as she realized the other woman was watching her, causing her to freeze. The woman winked at her, making her heart beat even faster.

The others seemed to notice as well.

"Tia! Go talk to her!" Chroiza urged, followed by a chorus of agreement from the other girls.

She felt her face go red, stuttering out "What should I say? Do I just approach her?"

"Yes, just be yourself! Go on, go on! If it goes horribly wrong, we'll buy you a drink to cheer you up~" Arantxa urged, pushing Tia out of the booth.

"Gee thanks, really encouraging guys." She rolled her eyes at the group before taking a second to collect her thoughts. She took a deep breath before she began to make her way over to the crowd.

She waded through the crowd of people, trying to keep her eyes on the woman. The lights filled her vision with purples and pinks, strangers coming in and out of focus as she strained to keep an eye on the mysterious stranger. All of a sudden, her concentration was interrupted when she bumped into a man, she quickly apologized and pushed her way out of the crowd, having lost sight of the tall girl.

"Fuck." Tia groaned, mentally cursing herself as she looked around surveying each person near her, yet the woman was nowhere to be seen. She had only looked away for a second, how could she disappear so quickly? Tia let out a sigh as she pushed her way out of the crowd and slumped against the wall, hoping she'd spot her again soon.

"Looking for someone, chérie?"

Tia jumped in surprise, looking at the person who had just appeared next to her. The woman was just a bit taller than herself, with long pale blonde hair down to her hips. She had a thick French accent and the physique of a model. She was the most gorgeous thing Tia had ever seen.

Tia softly laughed, "You, actually."

The woman smirked, "I was hoping you'd say that. I've seen you looking at me, you know."

She flushed, "It's hard not to, you're stunning."

"I could say the same about you," she ran her eyes up and down Tia's body, "what's your name?"

"Tia, yours?"

"La Grande Dame, but just call me Dame."

"Dame...I take it you're French?"

Dame smirked, "Oui. Born in Nice, just off the Coast. I moved to London a few months ago."

"How do you like it so far?"

"It's nice, lots of beautiful women." Dame winked at her, causing Tia to giggle as she swept a strand of her hair behind her ear. She could see Dame eyeing her, licking her lips. She took a deep breath and decided to take Arantxa's advice.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

Dame was certainly a much better dancer than Tia, but luckily for her Dame found it charming. Tia eventually found a sense of rhythm, letting Dame take the lead and allowing herself to loosen up. She was enjoying herself, swaying her hips in time to the music and leaning into Dame's touch. The butterflies in her stomach only seemed to intensify as Dame ran her hands up Tia's body, resting them on her waist as she pulled her closer.

Tia ran her hand through Dame's blonde hair, hesitating for a moment before she pulled her into a kiss. At that moment, everyone else in the club seemed to disappear. Dame tasted like chocolate, Tia was hooked on the other girl and didn't want to let go. Dame's hands gently cradled her face, sending Tia's heart into a frenzy.

"Want to get out of here? My apartment isn't far."

"Please. I just need to tell my friends I'm leaving before they worry."

Dame nodded, "I'll be waiting by the door when you're done chérie."

Tia practically flew over to her friend's table, downing a shot.

"Arantxa's going to be pissed when she gets back," Choriza laughed as she sipped her own drink, "What're you doing here? Weren't you talking to that one woman?"

"She's taking me home, I needed a shot for courage. Tell Arantxa I'll buy her another when we go out next time." Tia rambled, unable to hide the smile that was creeping onto her face.

Hannah and Chroiza teased her as she quickly gathered her stuff before saying goodbye to the girls, rushing to meet Dame at the door.

"Ready to go?"

Tia nodded, taking Dame's hand in hers as the other girl led her out of the club.

Dame shut the door to her apartment and pushed Tia up against the wall, kissing her hungrily. Her hands roughly grabbed her hips, Tia throwing her arms around Dame's neck as she deepened the kiss. Their bodies seemed to move in harmony, Dame's hands ghosting up Tia's body as they broke apart for air.

"You're so pretty, Tia..." Dame mumbled as she kissed down Tia's neck, making her eyes flutter shut. "...which is why I'm sorry about this. Don't worry, it'll only hurt for a moment."

Tia looked at her in confusion, catching a glimpse of what looked like...fangs? Before she could process what was happening, she felt a pinch in the side of her neck. She stumbled, grabbing onto Dame to steady herself as she felt herself growing dizzy and her vision blurring.

"Sweet dreams, mon amour~" Dame purred, as Tia watched a red liquid drip from her mouth. That was the last thing she remembered before passing out.

Tia groggily opened her eyes, slowly blinking as the world came into focus around her. She sat up slowly, rubbing the sore spot on her neck. 'What happened last night?' She thought, taking in her surroundings. The room she was in was elegant, filled with gorgeous paintings and furniture- a far cry from Tia's cramped bedroom filled with posters. She slowly rose off the bed, picking up her heels which had been neatly placed on the floor beside the bed.

In her mind, a blurry memory appears...it's Dame, flashing a pair of pearly white fangs as she bites Tia's neck. She brushes it off as a weird dream, quietly opening the door of the bedroom and creeping into the hall. She didn't know if Dame had abandoned her or was elsewhere in the apartment, but Tia figured leaving as quietly as possible was the best option.

She made her way into the living room, where she could see Dame in the kitchen. "Ah, good! You're awake! I was starting to worry you wouldn't wake before I left...how do you feel?" Dame calls out from the kitchen, stopping Tia in her tracks.

"Uh...a bit lightheaded, I guess. How'd you know I was awake?"

Dame shrugged, "I've got good hearing. Here, come eat. You'll feel better after."

She placed a plate of food on the island in front of her, beckoning Tia forward. She reluctantly approached, usually, her hookups didn't invite her for breakfast, but who was she to question Dame's kindness? She took a seat at the counter, her gaze shifting from the dark countertop to the woman in front of her.

"So...I had this crazy dream," Tia started, poking at the eggs in front of her, "I dreamt that you were a vampire and drank my blood, crazy right? I must've been really out of it last night."

Dame leaned against the counter, "It wasn't a dream, chérie." She flashed a smile at Tia, which allowed her to see the sharp fangs in her mouth. Tia froze, her mind racing with the information she had just been presented.

"Oh. Uh, are you usually this nice with your...uhm..." Tia struggled to think of the word, "...meals? V-victims? I don't know."

"No. I usually drain them completely."

Tia stared intensely at the eggs on her plate, unable to think of what to say next, only able to mutter out a small "oh." Could she ask a vampire why she didn't kill her? Would that make her want to kill her?

'If she wanted to kill me, I don't think she would've fed me breakfast...' she rationalized to herself, however, the pit in her stomach made her wary.

Luckily, Dame seemed to know what she was thinking.

"Don't worry, I don't plan on killing you. I think you're cute." Tia flushed bright pink at that. "But, killing people every time I need to feed is becoming...inconvenient," she mused, "...which is why I want to drink from one person for a while, specifically you."

"Why me?"

Dame hummed, "I've seen you watching me every time I'm in Heaven, I guess I grew fond of you over time- you and your little friend group are very endearing."

Tia stuttered as she struggled to reply.

"D-Do I have a choice in this?"

Being a vampire's personal blood bank was not at the top of Tia's wishes and desires, and in fact, it was nowhere close to being anywhere on her list. The aching in her neck was a painful reminder of that fact, but it seemed like she may not even have a choice in this scenario.

The vampire shrugged, "You could always say no, and I'll respect that, but I can make it worth your while. I'll make sure you recover well and pay you handsomely."

Tia perked up more at the mention of pay- some money on the side wouldn't be too bad, would it? She had been wanting to save up to move out of her shitty flat, but her office job wasn't really cutting it. Maybe the whole 'personal blood bank' to a hot vampire would be more appealing than she first thought, but she still had some reservations.

"How often would you need me?"

"Just twice a month, you'll come over in the evenings and I'll send you home the next morning. There may be some exceptions, but I'll let you know beforehand."

"Is it always going to hurt this badly?"

"Probably," Dame began, causing Tia to groan, "...but you might get used to it the longer we go on. I'm not really sure, I haven't drunk from one person long enough to know."

"This isn't going to have like...serious effects on my health, is it?"

"No, as long as you properly rest in between our meetings you'll be fine."

Tia slowly nodded, "...I guess it doesn't sound too bad. I'll do it."

Dame grinned, "Perfect! Merci, mon ange- you're really saving my neck here."

Tia chuckled at the pun, growing flustered at the smile on Dame's face. Damn her and her weakness for pretty girls. She quietly ate her eggs as Dame moved elsewhere in the apartment, sitting with her thoughts. A day ago, Tia would have laughed if you told her vampires were real, let alone that she would be in one's apartment in less than 24 hours. But here she was. She still thought she might be dreaming.

Dame eventually returned, packing her purse with what looked like some papers.

"Uhm, can I ask how you became a vampire?" She piped up, slightly nervous. Was that too personal? Tia wasn't exactly sure.

"I'd love to tell you, but unfortunately I have to run. Work calls." She sighed as she slid on a pair of shoes. She placed something on the counter in front of Tia. "Here's my phone number- text me when you can. There's a key under the doormat, just lock up when you're done." She gave Tia a wink as she grabbed her own keys.

"See you later, chérie."

#grandekofi #grandekofi vampire au #rpdr fanfiction #drag race #la grande dame #tia kofi #ukvstw2

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