#and it flips out at the bottom lol it fascinates me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwaightme · 2 years ago

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Aahah my goodness I am so sorry for that Ash, but glad that it turned out to be a little happiness boost <3 (I'll be real, I giggled at your first reblog ahah)

Awh gosh I am so sorry for that!! Some weeks really are out to get us ;~; but I am really happy to hear that despite that you are managing to find comfort and balance and I am so grateful that this fic could help with that <333 (AND MY APOLOGIES BUT I AM ABOUT TO SCREAM, YOU LISTEN TO EDEN!? DOTH THOU MEAN THE EDEN WHO SINGS: XO, Circles, love;not wrong, love death distraction..... because omg my SOUL is singing right now - tbh if it is EDEN as in the legendary producer, part of the EDENary crew and the one who crafted the beautiful song Suffering For Love, I am also the happiest person on the planet <333333)

I am elated that you liked the home that is portrayed here, Ash ;~; <3 indeed, I tried to approach this from the angle of 'home is where the heart is', and while the city may be painted in a black and white with light gaining colour only due to nostalgia, the apartment, the loving relationship is the sunlit paradise <3

May I bow to you repeatedly PLEASE I am honoured; I find San to have such a fascinating, attractive personality that I was desperate to try my best and do it justice at least in some way, through jazzman San~ <3 AND 100% YES I can fully see Southern San now and my mind is having a party (you're very unwelcome lol <3); and why of course, while he does play in a band he is very much a soloist and would never want to share~~ <3 (I was flip-flopping when writing that part... mayhaps possessive San possessed me ahah)

This is the highest praise one could ever offer. I am trying to formulate a response but immensely struggling because I am just... so so so deeply grateful for your words. The fact that this fic has resonated with you just leaves me soaring above the clouds and zooming off into space <3 In my mind, nature and music often go hand in hand, and golden hour feels like how love feels; the way the sun caresses the earth with its rays, just right, and the breeze is ever so gentle. There is an equilibrium that one can only explain through feeling and perhaps through music for

"Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent."

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Ash <3 Much love <3 Will be thinking about this for weeks to come <333

(p.s.: apologies if my response was in any way all over the place, but I am, quite simply, deeply touched, and appreciate you to infinity <3)

Golden hour

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR MOUNT'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🟡 pairing: bf!san x fem!reader 🟡 genre: smut, pwp, a lot of fluff, established relationship 🟡 summary: in the busy urban jungle, one fateful night at a jazz bar, choi san met his angel of light. from then on, each moment is a breathtaking golden hour, your love a wondrous duet. 🟡 wordcount: 6.5k 🟡 warnings/tags: loving bf san, jazzman!san, you are the apple of his eye, trumpet player, two lovebirds making it in the big city, discussion of marriage, discussion of planning for the future, yes he wants a future with you, late night coffee, being goofy, lots of hugs+heart eyes, lmk if I missed anything! 🟡 a/n: presently in the middle of being a san appreciator and listening to a lot of jazz, which resulted in quite a few song references being interlaced in this ahah; thank you so much for your support, any reblogs, comments, thoughts always appreciated!~

🟡 perma-taglist: @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @memoriesofwoo @ate-ez @toxicccred

🟡 nsfw tags: switch!san/the softest dom!san, switch!reader, the sheer volume of pet name use (sweetheart, darlin', love, angel, my light, my sun...), slight(?) hints at exhibitionism, light nipple play, lovebites/hickeys (giving/receiving), fingering, oral (f!recieving), handjob, hugging during sex, slow and steady, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, riding, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that pls), cum inside, soft and gentle aftercare

Enchanted by the ghostly wisps of steam rising from the cooling rich mahogany brew, twirling into the barren nightscape until they were nothing more than echoes of a magical breath, you waited. You were tired of conversing with the shadow stretched before you, from the sun-like lamp light rays that hopped from the window at the top of the stairs all the way down. So you sat there, between the fourth and the fifth floors of your apartment complex, studying the circular holes in the steps that had become your rocking chair for reminiscing. At nights like these, you took things slow, and let yourself sink into an intimate fragility. Only you and the remnants of a busy late night shift. The hair and skin, which even after bathing seemed to cling onto most, if not the entire bouquet of aromas from the bar; the hands, still bearing the traces of coolness from having heaped buckets of ice into overpriced drinks; the faded eyeshadow, the lipstick - most of it transferred to the mug of coffee, steadily approaching lukewarm, cradled in your hands. Habitually, you traced its rim, feeling for the chip in the ceramic that it sported like a scar, after you had accidentally dropped it on the counter. Its presence was grounding. A reminder that you existed in a world beyond the endless cycles. That sometimes, the unpredictable could happen to you too.

You found companionship in the fluorescent light perched above a sign that attempted, but failed to remind the locals not to litter, and the miniature exhibition of waste backs collected right below it. This scene, viewed from so many metres above, was almost poetic. It was endearing seeing the last hints of humour that your neighbours managed to retain despite the bleakness of the complex and its surroundings. Windows facing brick walls and going grey from smog, a cacophonic roar drilling into the ear drums from the ceaseless chatter of clubbers and late night diners ambling down the nearby wonders of nightlife. The flickering, leaking neon signs above business either long-closed for the day, or just beginning to awaken were practically pitiful, and yet, you could not help but feel a twinge of sentimentality when your mind traversed the area, reminding you of any changes you had spotted, new faces, new flyers; these were the only things that, without fail, would greet you as you walked back home in your midday, another’s time for deepest slumber. Perhaps one would think you were alone or lonely in this hour, remaining out of dreamland solely to tomorrow’s disillusionment. But to anyone who would dare propose something so ridiculous, one look at the smile that graced your lips as soon as you spotted a familiar figure making its way down the courtyard, and stopping to wave at you - knowing full well that you were sat at the stairwell, would be enough to cut any argument at its root. While he was not someone who you came home to often, despite you having lived together for what was about to be a year, Choi San was the music that soothed your soul, the sweetest song, the melody of your heart. He was there for you, and you were there for him. Even if that meant turning into a nocturnal creature, conversing aimlessly with a cuppa into the early hours.

You closed your eyes and counted his steps. Both of you had made it something of a routine to avoid the main entrance. Initially it had been as a joke and as a means to flee from the permanently vexed madam in her seventies who lived on the ground floor, shrill voice and a shivering, bitey pooch cooped up and cradled like baby; she had seen the two of you in states deemed dissatisfying in her view, and as such had turned into a guardian of the complex. A guardian from two young fools who lived to the fullest. In an adoring duet, you had found paths to your comfort, and soon enough, the emergency stairs were an ascension to your palace - shared paradise spanning a couple of rooms.

San’s resolved, confident steps as he made his way up the stairwell, skipping the second, avoiding the worn down centre of the step between the first and second floors; it was so worn down, in fact, that on some nights when the moon caught this side of the building just right, it was like a fallen star. You grinned to yourself as you recalled this theory. That star worked hard on giving you your wish; the wish whose slicked back, jet black locks you could already detail in your line of sight. As he made the last turn, you gripped your mug tighter; somehow, even after years of knowing this man, of loving this man, San never failed to ignite the warmest, cosiest flame within your soul. The home you had dreamed of, found not in four walls, but in this gentleman, who was now standing before you, hand outstretched and a gentle smile on his face. You graciously accepted the assistance, and let yourself be lifted off the ground with a light pull, to come face to face with your boyfriend. Your precious, funny valentine, with a heart of gold.

“Hey, darlin’, now, I told you the gig was gonna run ‘til late, why’re you up? And with your coffee?” he drawled as he searched for a place to put the case for the second most precious aspect of his life: his trumpet, settling on a nook closer to the inner railing - protected on all sides from a fall. You hummed, and took another cautious sip, studying the man before you.

Despite having woken up at the crack of dawn to walk you to your second job before commuting to his own, there was still that inextinguishable glint in his magnificent dark eyes. Feeling your gaze on him, San rolled his shoulders back, as though he had not a hint of weariness in his muscles, accidentally forcing one side of his favourite jacket, a vintage brown piece made of corduroy, to slip and commence its slow climb down his upper arm. Sighing, you twisted to set your cup aside on one of the stair steps, and made a move to fix it back in place, ignoring the way in which San's hands rapidly snaked to your waist.

"Mm, missed you Sannie." You responded, smoothing the non-existent creases on the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath, your touches lingering as if you had not rested your form on his chest thousands of times, each occasion imprinted in your memory for as long as there was music.

"I missed you more, Y/N…” his eyes darted a couple of times to your hands, only to slowly rise, and focus on the black top that you had chosen to change into after your workday. San exhaled, amused as he imagined you waddling around the apartment wrapped up in that fleece towel you liked, ready to raid the wardrobes. Taking the very edge at the base of the article between his thumb and index finger , he toyed with it, and stated as a matter of factly: “I can see you're stealing my shirts again."

"Well… I can take it off…" you trailed off, moving to undo the very top button, stifling a giggle as San instantly dropped his act and pinched the collar together. He shook his head, gaze glossed over, unreadable. His other hand inched a little closer to your hip, sliding down - a barely noticeable change, but it nevertheless sent sparks across your skin and left you struggling to breathe.

"Uh-uh, that's for my eyes only. Can't have you flaunting something priceless for the whole block." tugging on the shirt, he guided you into his arms and wrapped himself around you, taking in the smell of home. The aroma of his gift that was today, the promise that was tomorrow, and the dream that was the symphonies of a future to come.

It was surreal, the moment he came home. Be it to wait for your shift to end while he tried to get a simple dinner cooking on the stove, or to have you waiting, just like this, curled up on the stairs, every bit a cat basking in the warm glow that resembled the sunset in its hue, falling down the steps from the window of your, and his apartment. As he stood in front of you, etching your form into his memory as if each time he saw you you were someone new, he imagined what it would be like to truly come back at sundown. Have dinner earlier than midnight, spend the evening chatting away about this and that, hidden under a woollen throw that you had found at a thrift store. Let the last rays of the sun, departing to its sleeping quarters, wash over the two of you as you would hold one another in a long, loving embrace, rocking to the ballads only you knew and shared. Sometimes he wondered whether what he played outside of this magical golden hour that was ‘you and him’ was truly music, when all the melodies to divine adoration played in your caresses. Whether the words he sang held any meaning if they were not dedicated to you, sung to you. Whether the sultry notes of the trumpet were anything but noise if you were not there to hear it.

Crash landed into the big city, he had been a boy with stars in his eyes and boundless ambition. He had wanted to fight the world alone, head on, and had no feel for the rhythm of the metropolis, its people, its jazz scene. He had assumed that he was wanted, and oh, how wrong he had been. Rejection after rejection, San had found himself playing on the streets for a couple of bills to last the day, and had run into a debt with a cruel landlord - so large, that he had considered turning to less conventional solutions. But then, by some stroke of luck, he had met other musicians who were dreamers, warriors of the arts, those with impeccable feel for every note, every off-beat both in the pieces they would cover or improvise, as well as life. Just like that, San had found himself a band, and by the grace of destiny itself, he had found himself performing at a bar, the bar, where he had the boundless joy of meeting you.

An old hole in the wall in the middle of downtown, it had been your first place of work since moving in more central from the outskirts. Having been on the scene for a lot longer than him, sweeping, cooking, mixing - anything you could get your hands on, you knew practically all the artists around town, thanks to your appreciation of their life’s essence in the form of jazz and their habitual lingering around the bar to chat after a show. As such, a new face had immediately caught your eye, and there, your gaze stayed. All through the night. All through his impeccable covers of Chet Baker’s ‘I Fall In Love Too Easily’ and ‘Like Someone In Love’, during both of which you swore you had never felt yourself being regarded with more intensity. All through the years in which you had come to move in a shared rhythm, existing in a gentle swing, cheek to cheek. For the first time, you felt as though you were staring right into the sun, but instead of tears rolling down your cheeks and agony spreading over your body, your vision cleared and new hope settled.

This rhythm did not falter. Even when some notes were played with their respective delays or anticipations, this was all a wondrous interpretation of life as a duet that was you and your favourite, your only, beloved San, trumpet player, singer, an artist through and through. The man with a dream and the resolve to achieve it. You had promised to one another that one of these days, you will see yourselves as the makers of a new oasis. Your own corner in the glimmering canyons of steel to serve as a sunny safe haven for jazzists from all walks of life. You as the owner of the new Blue Note, him as the first man on the stage. This was the future towards which you both strode, and alongside it, a heavenly devotion bloomed.

As you rocked in a sweet embrace, it was impossible to imagine anything more right. Arms around his torso and hidden from the nighttime breeze by his jacket, you sank into San’s reassuring heartbeat and loving warmth. Caught in a trance, he pressed you impossibly close as though he had not seen you in an agonising ‘forever’, and ran his fingers through your hair while a hand rested on the back of your head. The brilliant, cascading tresses that still retained some of the aroma of the cordials and syrups you often used at your job, despite the top notes being yours, and consequently, his favourite shampoo. He admired the way in which it reflected the sunset captured in the apartment, only half a flight away, a golden luminescence that made him all the more convinced that this was where the glowing, comforting star had found safety to rest. After walking through the town that was enveloped in dark hues, passing by dingy shops and streets in dire need of tender love and care, he could not help but feel blessed that all that time ago, the sun had risen for him, and all he had the pleasure of experiencing was brighter, lighter, and any trials and tribulations were merely a simple test. He fondly recollected your first meeting, having purposefully made a detour on his journey back to walk past the location that marked the beginning of your history.

“We played at a club a couple of blocks from that place tonight.”

“Where we met?” you asked, nuzzling into the crook of San’s neck and relishing in his soft hum as he continued.

“Mhm. Actually, I walked past it while going home.”

“And?” you inquired, pulling away to glance at San’s cheeky lopsided grin.

“Made me walk faster.” you raised an eyebrow, only making your boyfriend chuckle, the honey-like tone never failing to induce a thrilling flurry in your chest.

“Damn, is it that run down?”

San imitated a pondering stance, looking off to the side before returning to study your very irises, with such attentiveness that you thought he was in a world of his own. And in a way, he was. He was convinced that, for as long as he lived, San’s best view would be exactly this. These eyes that had hypnotised him as they followed his figure from across the bar, these gorgeous orbs that held the moon, the stars, the songs sung and unsung. No matter where he went and no matter what new challenge life threw at him, all he needed was to imagine you and suddenly, everything would fall into place. The young man moved to press his forehead against yours, a strand of hair that grazed his eyebrow tickling your face and causing you to scrunch your nose. The adorable reaction proved to be too much for San’s poor enamoured heart as it skipped a beat, and in an attempt to subdue the overwhelming ache he rubbed his nose against yours.

“Nope, just made me want to see you even more.” he spoke low, focusing only on your shallow, lightly trembling breaths and the intoxicating feeling of his skin against yours.

“Can you see me now?” you joked, hinting at your closeness, hands moving to graze his sides, trailing down until you could tap his alluring waist with your fingertips, stepping forward until you were practically hip to hip and you could feel the friction of his navy jeans against your skirt.

“I don’t know, Y/N, I think I need to get a little closer…” in one cautious trailing of the jawline, he cupped your face, waited for a tiny nod from you to proceed - something he had always subconsciously done when it came to loving you, and what little space had been left between your bodies was no longer.

Tenderly, like early mist settling on the dazzling midnight sea, he worshipped you with every move. Lost in a sigh, in softest caresses, you indulged in the sweetness of his precious lips, fitting so perfectly with your own. While you had not been a believer in soulmates, the only way in which you could describe the idyllic nature of your coexistence was that it was meant to be. It was as if, even though you had your respective, independent melodies, they oh so seamlessly flowed into one, body and soul. San kissed you as though you were life itself, at such a slow, sultry tempo and yet it set your soul ablaze, caught up in a wild wind. Lost in exploring your lover, you only realised how he gingerly lifted the shirt at its base when his arms brushed against yours, causing you to snicker right against him. Immediately you could feel him retract his tongue and lean back to look at you. Your eyes fluttered open after having automatically given themselves up to a sensory bliss, only to be met with San’s signature pout that was dramatically contrasted by an enticing darkness in his half-lidded orbs.

“What…” he whined barely audibly, only making your smirk deepen.

“Now what about that ‘show’ you were talking about, hm?”

“My shirt, my business.” he attempted to dive back into a kiss, digging his fingers into your sides when you tilted your head back and chuckled.

“My lips, my business.”

“Awh darlin’ don’t tease.” he batted his eyelashes, gaze darting around your face to catch any signs of caving in to his charms. However, even if he tried his hardest, his searches would amount to nothing at all, for you would not be able to get mad at his cute face even if you wanted to. As such, your facade soon dropped and you were seeking him once more.

“Don’t be bossy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good- Choi San put me dow-” you yelped as he stepped to the side, and with mischief flashing across his face, hooked you under the knees and supported your back, sweeping you off your feet for good. Careful not to let you hit the stairs, San’s strong arms held you tight against his chest, and he smiled down to give you a cheeky retort.

“Don’t be bossy~” playfully shaking your head, you let your hands find themselves loosely hanging from his neck, and gave into the addictive fiery pecks that he was leaving on your cheek, across your jaw, only to culminate in a deeper, ravishing kiss, punctuated by an unmistakable undercurrent of sensual longing. As your passion ascended into a crescendo, and the heat rising in your bodies was elevating into being unbearable, San breathlessly whispered the shared desire against your reddened lips:

“It’s time to quit stalling, methinks. Yeah?”

“Sounds fine by me.” you agreed, not fearful of sounding eager. Though apparently, that was not enough. While San dipped you forwards, eliciting a giggle and a compliant hooking of the trumpet case with your finger, he tried to correct you.

“Now, fine won’t do.” giving you another quick peck on your cheek, he began climbing towards the fifth floor, though you were certain that he was spending more time studying you than checking if he was stopping at the right level. Not bothering to mention the mug that had been abandoned, concluding that the beverage was always going to be nothing compared to the energy this wondrous love of yours gave you, you simply gave into the boisterous affection.

“Mighty fine.”

“A little better…” he mumbled back while stepping through the open window into your piece of urban heaven.

“Gonna have to work for any more than that, darling.”

“A challenge?”

“An invitation.”

The phrase almost made him falter as he attempted to gather at least some form of coherence before the submitting to your priceless seduction. Setting you back down onto the floor only to return to his hold of your waist, he shadowed your movements as you set the case down. At the first given opportunity, your boyfriend focused and nipped at the sensitive skin right above your exposed collarbone, one hand rising to hastily unbutton the shirt as you gasped at the contact and in a daze, rushed to tug at his jacket. Promptly, the article found itself on the floor, soon joined by the black shirt that you had borrowed and leaving your chest entirely exposed.

Entranced, San let himself be guided by you to the bedroom as he cupped one of your breasts and ran languid circles across the nipple, while catching you once more in a feverish kiss. Upon hearing the hint of a moan, muted by his own mouth, he inadvertently bucked his hips against you, the pressure on the growing arousal making him needy, and desperate for more touch. Stumbling down the corridor, you felt for the doorframe of the bedroom, stopping right underneath and running your hands under San’s black tee and up his abdomen. He obeyed your unspoken wish and gave you the pleasure of watching him undress, the divine, sculpted lines and edges of his body, muscles working overtime under his beautiful sunkissed skin, all in a magnificent dance. Before you could indulge in him once again, you felt a couple of pulls on the fabric of your skirt, and soon enough the elastic band had given in, and rolled down to let the material pile on the floor around you.

San guided your two hazy forms to the bed, hissing as you trailed kisses up his neck, to the side and nipped at his earlobe, your erratic, shallow breaths nearly sending him into a frenzy. Burning skin, each touch turned scalding making heat pool to your core; you saw stars as your boyfriend slipped his hand into your panties and ran two digits across your dripping sex to collect some of the nectar, before starting to rub your aroused clit, teasing it as you shot out to grab a hold of his upper arms for some illusion of stability. Whispering sweet nothings against your skin he laid you down onto the bed sheets; you could swear they had retained some of the warmth where the sun had hit them during its routinely finale, orange streaks stalking across the apartment. Nuzzling into San's neck you muffled your whines by turning your attention to making this moment bloom, lovebite after lovebite.

"Ah… Y/N…" he sighed, voice husky as he shifted in his half-lying posture in an attempt to get at least some friction. As he flicked your clit and glided two fingers into your entrance, curling them exactly how he knew it would drive you closer to your high, you dug your nails into his biceps to resist a tremble and uttered:

"My man, my business."

"Yours, all yours, darlin', just as you're mine."

"Mhm, ah, San, I'm- cl-" you moaned as he increased his rhythm, the wanton sounds of his digits pumping into your pussy only accelerating you to your orgasm.

"Close? Already, sweetheart?" You could sense a hint of pride in his tone, but could not form any snarky comment, thoughts turned to mush.

"Too good to me, love…"

"Now, now, and I wanted to make you feel even better…" he chided jokingly, lifting your lower half ever so slightly from the bed to slip the wet panties off fully, not once taking his eyes off yours. You tried to reach for his jeans, the erection so painfully obvious that all you could wish for was to give San at least some relief, but to no avail as he intercepted by taking a hold of your wrist, kissing your knuckles lovingly and simply requesting: “Lie back for me, darlin’, won’t you?”

Of course you would not disagree, not when you felt an emptiness from where his fingers had denied you a complete release, leaving your walls clenching around nothing, and desperation approaching an all-time high. Eagerly, you crawled and fell back on the bed, watching his figure follow you until he was hovering dangerously close, clouded over with lust. After resting his hands on your knees and then, at a deliberately slow pace, sliding them down your inner thighs for you to part your legs wider for him, he lowered himself to devour you. Placing a long kiss on your sensitive clit while holding your legs in place so you were in his temporary control, he ran his hot tongue along the length of your fold, stopping to give the bud extra attention with dedicated licking, and sucking until you were melting into the sheets and the only thing escaping your mouth were pathetic moans laced with his name and praises. As if you had been blinded by the sun, you ceased to see any definition in the world around you as your climax crashed down hard and fast, leaving you shaking and crying out for your boyfriend, who, after leaving a tentative trail of open-mouthed kisses on your pulsating core and on each of your thighs, rose to hook you under your back.

“You’re so beautiful, my love…” he cooed as he wrapped you up in a long hug, careful to let you ride out your high in the safety of his arms. He bit his lower lip as your leg accidentally grazed his clothed cock, only to squeeze his eyes shut when the action prompted him to taste you once again, sending his mind into an overdrive.

As you returned to a brighter lucidity, you gingerly fiddled with the button on San’s jeans, and proceeded to free him of their confines with the lowering of the zipper. Unable to restrain yourself from feeling the hardness of his length, you palmed it through the cotton briefs that were already showing traces of his pre-cum, and pulled down the waistband to let it spring free.

“Oh, San, please, why wait so long, you must be so on edge, I’m sorry baby…” you mumbled, lifting your hand to collect some spit, then wrapping it around his member. Instinctively his hips bucked towards you as you pumped him, barely registering how close San’s face was to yours.

“‘s alright, Y/N, but if you could… mh… kiss it better? May I?”

“Of course.”

You could taste the remnants of your orgasm on his lips and tongue, but only momentarily as he hungrily explored you. Low grunts and breathy moans fell from his mouth, only to be swallowed by your newly blooming desire for more. Deepening the kiss, you absorbed his moan as you sped up the movements of your other hand. Unable to resist the building frustration any longer, San brushed your arm and tilted his head back to show you his eyes - glazed over, full of raw want.

“I need you.”

“How?”

“I need your pussy, sweetheart.” you slowed down, teasing the tip of his cock as he gripped your hips, a coy smile dancing across your features.

“Didn’t you just have it?”

“Not enough, it seems.”

“I think we can do something about that… tell me how you want me.”

“Ride me.”

“Be my guide.”

Nodding, moved to the edge of the bed on his knees, and slid down until he was in a seated position. He motioned for you to come closer, helping you understand his wish. Raising yourself from how you had been positioned, you crept towards your boyfriend, cautiously throwing a leg over his lap until your core was millimetres away from his throbbing member. San’s hands found your ass and gave you a few nudges towards him, while you ran your fingers through his dishevelled locks, a shy smile gracing you as you thought back to how pristine he had managed to look when he had been in the stairwell. Now, he was perfect. When you tapped him to suggest your readiness, San took his cock to slot it into your entrance and with a couple of adjustments, he bottomed out inside you. Sighs combined into a single, intimate breath as his length pressed against your walls, and you rose into an unimaginable euphoria.

Foreheads pressed against one another, neither of you wanted to rush, instead succumbing to a darkness behind your eyelids and focusing exclusively on the other senses. How your inhales and exhales were equally as shallow, how the light tinge of sweat had mixed with the dark accords of his perfume - one that, after having made the step to live together, now almost permanently lingered on your skin, how the contact was every bit like being wrapped in the golden glow of a sunset. You peeked at San, catching him still in a trance, and admired how the light from the ceiling lamp out in the corridor highlighted his sharp and alluring features, all contrasted by the softest, plushest lips which you gave into the instinct to peck.

Your boyfriend gazed up at you, breaking into a heart-melting smile. Little did you know, he was counting his blessings and had to consciously remind himself that somehow you were not a sun goddess. Perhaps in disguise. You were the melody he would never get tired of hearing, the dawn and dusk that he would always greet and cherish. His muse and guiding light.

“My sun…” he pecked your cheek, flicking his nose against it while restraining himself from acting rashly. Not tonight. Tonight was all about you and him. Together.

“The light of my life…” kissing the other cheek, he groaned as you grinded your hips to have your chest almost flush against him.

“My Y/N,” “My San,”

You whispered in unison, looking at one another with an unequivocal tenderness and adoration. Two seamlessly blending into one, you did not need the days to guide you. Existing in a glittering bliss, before either of you was an angel of light. Truthfully, there need not be anything more. Only the sound of jazz to give you rhythm, and the radiance of your mutual enamourment.

As you began to ride his member, you took immeasurable pleasure in seeing San’s face contort into that of ecstasy. The fluidity of the motion rivalled that of waves that lapped the distant shores of a paradise. The oncoming bubbling of a climax that threatened to drown you in a sensual unravelling left you lost at sea, with only the rays of your favourite star enveloping you. Rocking your hips, you felt his cockhead hitting your ideal spot over and over, and whenever you would need a break, he would soothe you with a feathery touch.

The leisurely pace proved to be a build up to unfathomable ruin, as the clenching of your pussy around his hard length left San’s thoughts in a total disarray. He could not register the most basic things around him, jutting into you without a single decipherable word spilling from his lips. He gripped onto you harder, silently begging you to take him deeper, faster as his high became more imminent and he could barely hold on.

“Darling, you’re… I-I swear…”

“Ah… yes? What?”

“Can I? Please, love…”

“Yes, Sannie, please- ah!” he thrusted his hips with a newfound vigour, practically lifting you to give himself space to accelerate. The sudden change of pace sent curls of pleasure to the knot that had been building in your core, leaving you like putty in San’s hold.

“Fuck yes, Sa-an-ie… please…” lewd moans filled the bedroom as his member snapped into you with the exact beat that would send you into a frenzy. Falling apart over him, your pants rapidly turned into high-pitched whines as you could feel yourself approaching the edge to your undoing.

Just as he began to falter, you fell between his head and shoulder, shaking as another orgasm overtook you. The spasming of your sex sent him into uncontrollable pleasure and with a final few snaps of the hips, San kept you still on his cock as hot ropes of cum painted your inner walls. Embracing you like you were the most fragile being on the Earth, he glanced at you even in his half-consciousness to check if you were comfortable. Elated when you returned his regard with an elated grin, San beamed right back, giving you a quick peck before hugging you even tighter, attempting to slow his breathing while his length was still pulsating, surrounded by a divine warmth.

“So unreal… so, so marvellous, Y/N.” that seemed to reel you back from the wonderfully overwhelming sensation, and you brushed your cheek against his. Silence. Two bodies connecting, not needing the light as they lived in the afterglow. Listening to San’s heartbeat, your temple against his, you mumbled:

“I would never leave.”

“Then don’t. I would never let you go anyways.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to carry me to the bathroom.”

“I’ll even hold you in the shower.”

“Oh how romantic.” you tried to shift, only eliciting a groan from San as he cautiously moved you back, a sheepish grin on his features.

“You know what, darlin’, let’s stay like this for a bit, yeah?”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine?”

“Very, very, very fine.”

Once the two of you had in part returned from your post-coital utopia, and San kept his promise and carried you around the entire apartment as though showing you off to every piece of furniture and every wall, you were clean, fuzzy from the perfectly warm shower, and wrapped up in fresh bed sheets which you had playfully commanded for San to lay down.

After having given up on immediately settling down to sleep, you and San had dissolved into a giggly mess. You had convinced him to bring his trumpet into the room and let you have another go at playing it - even though these attempts had already likely accumulated into hundreds - without much progress. At the moment, the one piece which you could confidently play was ‘a whole lot of nothing and painfully blown out air’. As you tried for the umpteenth time to produce as much as one hint of a note, you were distracted by a sudden ‘oohing’ from your boyfriend, who was watching you unwaveringly.

“What?” you lowered the trumpet and raised an eyebrow.

“That was an indirect kiss, darlin’.”

“Come on, San, what in the world-” you hit his chest playfully and attempted to return the instrument, “I’m out here huffing and puffing and that’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Mhm, and so much more…”

“Choi San.” you addressed him sternly, though nothing in your expression even remotely suggested that you meant it.

“Fine, fine, want me to show you again and proper?”

“You know what, I think I practised enough for today.” you handed him the instrument, restraining your laughter while he returned it to its case, clipping it shut and setting it aside on the bedside table closest to him.

“Well done, Y/N.” he praised you, though a hint of sarcasm did not go unnoticed.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at me as much as you want, but you still can’t make a bloody mary.” you pointed out, making San jut out his lower lip and nod in agreement.

“Fair.”

He opened his arms wide, leaning back onto the large pillows to invite you to rest against his bare chest, an offer which you simply would never refuse. Snuggling up to him, you were in seventh heaven. One arm over his torso and the other propping you up so you would be level, you doubted that there could be anything that felt more safe, more comforting and more adoring than this. Feeling him rubbing unrushed, lulling circles on your back, accompanied by the rustling of cotton, you wanted to dissolve in this moment, your molecules reflecting onto every surface until this was all you knew.

“Y’know, I’m s’posed to have a gig next week that’s gonna cover at least three month’s rent.” he broke through the quietude with the exciting news, making you immediately look up at him, gleaming.

“What? No way, who?”

“Some bigshot from uptown wants music for his party. And who am I to refuse?”

“Damn, San, that’s amazing-”

“And, and, and, they were looking for a mixologist to make the magic happen, so if you are happy to accept, the man’s asked me to call him back tomorrow noon,” the continuation left you stunned, and you wrapped a leg around your boyfriend, embracing him until you could barely breathe.

“WHAT? San, no you didn’t I… thank you? How? I mean…” you stumbled over your words, trying your hardest to not squeal at the opportunity.

“No words needed, lovely. See? We’re gonna save up for that wedding dress in no time.”

He stated casually, but the words sent butterflies into your stomach. You had discussed official commitment early on, deciding that this was to be in your plans for certain, but considering your careers, your desires and your dreams, you wanted to find that golden sliver of stability before taking that next step. Though, as months ticked by, you could tell San’s motivation grew stronger and stronger to be able to call you his wife.

“Oh Sannie, but I told you that I don’t need anything fancy, I just need you.” you responded, trying to provide reassurance that either way, happiness was guaranteed; but it appeared that in the ghost of an intimate night, your boyfriend found entertainment in misconstruing your words into a lustful implication.

“Say that again and you are not getting out of bed for that morning shift.” you hit his chest so faintly that there was barely any impact before hiding your face against him, not reappearing until San brushed some hair away from your face and cupped your chin, “Darlin’, I just wanna have, and live a life with you. Many lives. More than.” melting into his touch, you wiggled upwards, closer to him.

“We’ll make it.” San nodded at your resolution, glancing out into the corridor - although the lamp that had provided the sun-like hues had long been turned off, the heat of your passion prolonged its echoes.

“It’s us we’re talkin�� ‘bout, it’s written out for us. And if not, we’ll take the pen and write it. You promised I’ll be the first to play at your bar… opening night.”

You took in the adoration in his eyes, while San delighted in the same feeling that was held in your own.

“Of course. And you said that the song you’ll sing will be the one you wrote for me.” barely audible, you answered, getting closer and closer to the sun that you knew would never burn you and instead only help you amplify your shine.

“The whole set, love. My all.”

#hm/golden hour #ash <3 #nebulousbookshelf #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san fluff #san x reader #ateez #choi san #san

554 notes · View notes

kaitsawamura · 4 years ago

Text

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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bratano · 3 years ago

Text

The Only Ones - Jonathan Crane X Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: This X Reader is very loosely inspired by “Demons Sing Love Songs” by Unwound, so give it a listen! It’s pretty depressing, but I think it’s accurate to how Crane would view love/falling in love with someone. I’ll save the song analysis for a music journal lol, but it’s a gorgeous song! Scarecrow is my all-time favorite character and I really love the idea of him having to deal with a college intern, so perhaps I’ll do more with this trope. I hope you enjoy it, I plan on writing about him a lot more in the future. Also I know nothing about how asylums work so sorry if this isn’t accurate lol

Word Count: 1990

CW: Slight yandere, creepy Zsasz, ownership concept? Idk, swearing lol, gets a bit NSFW at the end but nothing crazy

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Working as an intern at Arkham Asylum truly felt like a dream come true. You were working with such fascinating patients, seeing the inner workings of being a psychologist, and you had the pleasure of working with one of the best psychologists in Gotham. Dr. Jonathan Crane was somewhat of an idol for you. You had read his thesis that got him a doctorate what seemed like a million times, and had even gone to Gotham City University to study under the same masters he had learned from.

Now you were in the same doctorate program he was in when he was 21, however you were at the less impressive age of 25. But you were hoping to get to continue some of the work he had done at the university as far as the study of fear and its effect on the human psyche, and you were thrilled to work with him.

He certainly wasn’t an easy boss. You often found yourself doing meaningless paperwork or organizing his very messy files of all of his patients, and he hardly ever spoke to you. But even doing such menial tasks it felt like a dream had come true. It also helped that he was extremely attractive for being in his mid-thirties. His slicked back black hair and piercing, stormy blue eyes often caught your gaze. Part of you was terrified he would notice the way you would try to catch glimpses at him at work, with his brow furrowed and his hand often finding its way to his chin. But another part of you practically begged for him to just notice you.

Little did you know, he had. He certainly didn’t mind it either. The way your eyes studied him at his desk when you were supposed to be collecting files was often the highlights of his day. He couldn’t help but daydream about all the things going on inside your head. You were always so pure to him, you hadn’t been corrupted like he had by greed and fear. Part of him was jealous, but the other part wanted to keep you as safe as possible. He knew he was the only one who could truly protect you from the fear and evil in this world. Especially with the line of work you were going in.

One afternoon while you were organizing papers, Dr. Crane opened his office door and stood in front of your desk.

“Miss Y/L/N?” He questioned.

You felt your heart leap a bit in your chest. Something about his tone seemed to ask for more than his typical coffee or errand. “Yes, Dr. Crane?”

“I’m doing an evaluation on Victor Zsasz today, would you care to join me?”

You shuddered at the name. You knew what Victor Zsasz was in for. He had killed hundreds of people, even some children, and you knew his favorite prey fit your description perfectly. Young, attractive women were the majority of his victims. Part of you felt like Crane was doing this on purpose. Maybe he was testing to see if you were truly cut out for such an intense field. I mean, you would be dealing with people like Zsasz everyday if you got your degree.

You collected yourself and looked up to smile at him. “Yes, of course. I’ll find his files for you.”

He waited by your desk, studying you as you looked through the pile of paperwork covering your desk. The way your delicate hands flipped through each paper, your teeth finding their way gently into your bottom lip. You felt his eyes begin to wander to your back, now looking at your pencil skirt that sculpted your gorgeous body. You gave a slight hum at the knowledge that he was observing you. God, it felt good to be unabashedly noticed by him.

Eventually you found all the paperwork you needed any you walked in polite silence to the opposite side of the Asylum to one of the evaluation rooms. He sat down behind the desk and gestured for you to sit beside him, in a chair a bit uncomfortably close to him. You politely sat down, your knees gently touching from the compactness behind the desk. You couldn’t help but turn a little red at the contact, avoiding his gaze and flipping through the file in your now shaky hands. He noticed your now red cheeks and smirked a bit to himself. He couldn’t help but relish in the fact that part of you was excited by him, owned by him. You were his sweet intern, his little plaything and he knew at any moment if he really wanted to, he could have his way with you.

His somewhat sinister train of thought was stopped by the presence of Victor Zsasz and a team of security entering the room. Dr. Crane welcomed him as he sat down across from the desk. You involuntarily stiffened at his presence, noticing the many scars covering his arms and neck. He was so much more frightening in person, the evil of his deeds seemed to fog around him. All of those people he killed just for the sake of killing.

Dr. Crane sensed your fear, and silently thanked himself for bringing you along. He still hadn’t seen you in your most vulnerable, beautiful state, which to him was experiencing fear. Definitely a clinger, he thought as you scooted closer to him, unconsciously looking to him for protection.

“Mr. Zsasz, I’m happy to see you haven’t escaped again.” He said, slightly smiling.

Zsasz looked up and grinned, his black eyes staring right at you. “And I’m happy you brought me a toy to play with.”

You grimaced at the thought of Zsasz being near you, let alone touching you. Or worse, carving you with one of his knives.

“Control yourself, Mr. Zsasz. This is my intern, she will be helping me with your evaluation today.” Crane patted your shoulder gently, giving it a light squeeze of reassurance. You looked at him and his eyes had a hint of gentleness behind them. A quiet reminder that he was there with you, and there was nothing to worry about even in a room with someone as violent as Zsasz.

You looked away and cleared your throat, opening the file and arranging the documents for Crane to see easily. He grabbed the list of his medications and mulled over it for a second.

“Your dosages seem to be in order. Would you say your violent urges have lessened or worsened?” He said, clicking a pen ready to write his response.

“Well they were practically nonexistent until I saw your pretty little assistant. Now I’m thinking I need her doe eyes on my wall.” He spat, cackling.

You cowered a bit at his words. Unable to stop yourself from imagining his fingers in your eyes. You averted your gazed and looked down at the floor, trying to keep yourself from showing a reaction, knowing that’s what he wanted.

Crane looked at him, fire consuming his oceanic eyes. You had never seen him get angry like that before, usually it was just his typical annoyance. But something about his gaze seemed murderous. You were frightened of him for a moment, thankful this anger was towards Zsasz and not you. The disgust of Zsasz’s comment seemed to hang in the room for hours, his eyes hungrily looking you up and down as his tongue slithered over his lips.

It took everything in Crane’s power to not reach into his suitcase and gas him then and there. Who did he think he was talking to you that way? You were his, not for the enjoyment of anyone else’s. Especially not for such a violent, uncivilized man like Zsasz. He could never treat you the real way you deserved to be treated. Only he could do that.

Crane slid his glasses off, placing them on the table in front of him gently. His eyes stared directly into Zsasz, who’s once cocky demeanor was now shrinking by the second. “Mr. Zsasz, I would suggest you control your behavior or perhaps we will have to have a follow up appointment in my lab. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He whispered coldly. Zsasz looked down, his violent tendencies doused by this threat. “That’s what I thought. Now, apologize.”

“But I-”

“Apologize.”

Zsasz looked up at you, his once shark-like eyes now softened into a puppy’s stare. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

Crane looked at you for approval and all you could do was gently nod out of shock. How did he wrap such an uncontrollable evil around his finger like that? What could possibly be in that lab?

“Good. Thank you. Perhaps we should finish this evaluation another day. Put this animal back in his cell, please.”

The security guards stood Zsasz up and walked him out of the room. He seemed shrunken in comparison to the man that had walked in that day. You felt a wave of relief as the door closed, leaving just you and Dr. Crane alone in the room. He turned to you, leaning in to put his hand on your cheek.

“I’m sorry about his behavior, Miss Y/L/N. Some of these patients… Well, you get the picture.”

You felt your cheeks burn, his hand bringing a cool sensation to your right side. “Thank you. But it’s why I’m here, Dr. Crane. It’s what I’m passionate about. And no way am I letting Victor Zsasz ruin that for me. Fear is just… commonplace here. I’ll have to get used to it.”

He smiled at your response. Sometimes he thought about telling you about his experiments, because he just knew you would say something adorably poetic back to him. A total sense of understanding seemed to constantly gush from you. You were always so gentle with your words, which felt so foreign to him. You were so vulnerable, so fresh.

He slowly removed his hand from your cheek, and you both stared into each other’s eyes for a second. You absorbed every part of him. His freckles, the gentle arch of his eyebrows, the fullness of his lips. His eyes seemed to devour you, reading into your every breath, saying words that you could never speak. He was reading the desire all over your body, your mind. He knew the safety you felt around him was uncommon to you, and he felt pride knowing he could make you feel that way. He moved closer to you, gently pulling you towards him. He stopped right before your mouths came together, both of you breathing slightly heavily at the intensity. It felt as though fire was buzzing around you, the crackling of flames replacing the sound of the harsh fluorescent lighting above you.

You tried to reach for his lips but he pulled away, smirking as you looked at him with pleading in your eyes. He moved back to your previous closeness and slowly placed a peck on your parted lips. The peck turned into an ocean of movement between your lips, which were now moving against each other like waves mingling against a shore. He pulled away and placed his forehead against yours. His expensive cologne intoxicating you, a soft beg threatening to escape your lips at the sudden release.

“You don’t have to get used to it… I’ll keep you safe… I promise…” He whispered huskily, opening his eyes to look at you.

A smile appeared on your lips. He was suddenly so vulnerable, so pleading to keep you safe. You knew what he wanted you to say. He wanted you to fall into his arms like a helpless victim, allowing him to keep you in his little box. A sliver of you wanted to, but your stubbornness took over. You were a person, and if he thought he could melt you that easily he had another thing coming.

“You won’t always be around to protect me, Doctor.”

You pulled away, smirking at his dumbfounded expression. He quickly straightened himself up, putting his glasses back on and clearing his throat.

“You’re right, Miss Y/L/N. But that won’t stop me from trying.”

#jonathan crane #dr crane #cillian murphy #christopher nolan #batman #x reader #god i love him #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader

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mikkomacko · 3 years ago

Note

ME! ME! What would be Bucky’s reaction to reader putting magnets on his arm? I always love these fics lol -⚾️

Bucky's favorite thing about his girl is how much she loves his metal arm. From the moment he showed it to her, she was fascinated. He still remembers when she first got a glance at his vibranium fingertips, eyes going all wide and starry. He hesitated on further revealing his arm but when she bit at her bottom lip and blinked all shyly, like she was embarrassed about how excited she had become, he knew he couldn't hide himself any longer.

And he was glad he didn't, because it sort of becomes a pain in the ass walking around in a jacket and gloves during the humid New York summer. And it's an even bigger pain in the ass finding an excuse for wearing layers inside.

It feels freeing to step into her apartment and shed the leather jacket on his shoulders. It's dropped onto the back of a dining room chair, the fabric barely leaving his fingers before y/n is clinging to his left arm. When he looks down at her, drunk eyes peer up at him, those same stars shining in her pupils. He smiles when she presses her flushed cheek to the cool metal, nuzzling into him like a cat.

"Let's get some food in you doll," he murmurs, taking a moment to remove her shoes and help her slip out of her jeans before guiding her into the kitchen. He settles her on the countertop, kissing her forehead when she drunkenly flops back against the side of the fridge with a giggle.

He gathers cheese and a loaf of bread, heating up a pan to make her favorite drunken night meal; a grilled cheese. The first slice of bread has barely begun toasting when he feels her fingers brush his bicep, ghosting over the golden details in the vibranium.

"Buck?"

"Hm?" He hums, laying the cheese on the sandwich.

"I think you're really cool."

The honesty of her words brings a blush to his cheeks, his chest aching from just how much he loves her. All he can do is laugh, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter and planting a sloppy kiss on her lips that still taste of tequila.

"Thanks sweetheart. I think you're really cool too."

And she's giggling all bashful, biting her bottom lip while he completes the sandwich and flips it. He focuses on finishing up her grilled cheese, setting it on a plate before starting on a second one, and he misses her lethargic movement as she begins collecting magnets off the fridge. He doesn't notice she's moved at all until the first one clacks against his elbow, her gleeful laugh drawing his attention.

"What's going on here doll?" He asks, craning his neck to find an Empire State Building magnet. She sticks another to his forearm, this one depiction a steaming cup of coffee.

"I think magnets are cool too," she says simply. "Now you're double cool, and way out of my league Barnes."

It's impossible to be out of her league. He knows that, knows that she's on a level he could never fathom of reaching. But he knows his girl, knows how sweet and praising she gets when she's drunk so he plays along.

"Don't worry baby, we can get you a metal arm too." He says, laughing when she pauses her magnet art to gape at him.

"Really?!"

"Not like mine though," he swears, flipping his sandwich. "there will be no loss of limbs for you doll. We'll just get you like a costume one."

She laughs, jumping off the counter and burrowing under his left arm with hers wrapped around his middle. "Will you put magnets on mine?"

"What baby wants, baby gets." He agrees, smiling when she kisses his shoulder and resumes her strategic magnet placing.

They're going to need more magnets if she's serious about this metal arm thing in the morning. But he'll deal with that tomorrow.

#⚾️ anon #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes x reader

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

Text

Honeysuckle

hi i have no self control and really really really love tattoo artist!jaskier so here we are again. this is a prequel to the nipple piercings fic wherein geralt is absolutely smitten from day one. not the same vibe but im telling myself thats to be expected bc these take place like five years apart lol

Warnings: tattoos. if they make you squeamish this is not your fic, swearing, mild anxiety, not much else

___________________

Geralt’s palms were sweating when he walked into the little tattoo shop above his favorite deli. The artist he booked was nice enough in the email, and the front desk gal was sweet on the phone, but he’d never gotten a tattoo before and his anxiety was telling him to run home and bury himself under all the blankets he owned.

A familiar voice greeted him when he came through the door, “Hey! Sweet, you’re early! Jask is just setting up the chair!”

The coily brown haired receptionist gestured to a black leather couch across the room and Geralt just barely caught a glimpse of tattooed vines from under her hoodie sleeve. He nodded and smiled, taking a seat and trying not to look so stiff. The receptionist called another artist over and Geralt was surprised when the taller, purple eyed woman wrapped her arms around her shoulders and placed a kiss on her cheek as they looked at the monitor. It was the good kind of surprise, Geralt decided, the kind that sets you at ease when you were gearing up for a fight. The receptionist caught his unintentional smile and winked at him before he suddenly found his nail beds fascinating.

“You Geralt?”

His eyes scanned over the man asking from bottom to top and nearly lost his ability to speak, “Hm? Thats me.”

He looked like he came straight form the Seattle grunge scene in the 90’s, but showered and with beautiful floral blackout sleeves up to the wrists on each arm. It seemed the only color over his whole body was the few yellow buttercups scattered through the pattern, ending in a bouquet of all sorts of plants and flowers and herbs at his collar bones, only slightly covered by his Heathers on Broadway tank.

He flicked his wispy brown hair out of his unreasonably pretty blue eyes and smiled so brilliantly Geralt had to remember to breathe, “I’m Jaskier. Come on back!”

Geralt gave him a curt nod and stood to follow.

“I hope you brought shorts, it might be a bitch to walk home in that.” Jaskier said, leading him into one of the rooms down a long hallway.

Geralt was suddenly regretting listening to Lambert. He wanted to melt into the floor when he realized he would have to say this to the beautiful tattoo artist’s face, “They uh… they zip away…”

“Oh my god.” Jaskier breathed, finally looking at Geralt’s knees, “I didn’t even know they made those anymore.”

“I swear to god, my brother wears them for work and told me to-”

Jaskier waved his hand, clearly holding back a smile, “No worries, Ron Stoppable.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep from smiling, “Do you make a habit of making fun of your clients?”

“Only when I’m sure they can handle it,” he teased, “Now off with the hideous zipper pants, I gotta shave your thigh before I start the drawing.”

Once Geralt was shaved and positioned every which way on the table/chair contraption, he finally got to see the rough sketch. The marker felt cool and tickled the back of his knee, but surprisingly to him, he kept up a relaxed conversation, almost flirting before he thought better of it.

“Do you like where everything is? Want any more grass? Or flowers? Now’s the time for changes, don’t be shy.”

Geralt turned his leg this way and that, looking at the little blue and purple marks in a band just above his knee in the mirror, “You’re the professional, what do you think?”

Jaskier took a step back and reached for a roll of paper towels and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, “You said this was your first tattoo right?”

Geralt nodded.

“Okay, one less flower on the back then.”

“Why?”

“It’s one of the most painful places to get tattooed.”

“Keep it. I like it.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, “Alright, Hot Shot. Face down, we’ll start there first.”

Holy fuck Jaskier was right. Geralt had a high pain tolerance, but this was a whole different kind of pain. He had his arms crossed under his forehead and was doing his best to take deep, even breaths but Jesus Christ, that little chuckle-fuck just kept going over what felt like the same spot. But hell would freeze over before Geralt tapped out, so he forced his breath out and kept going.

“Why honeysuckle?” Jaskier asked as he sat back to dip the machine in more ink.

Geralt took the opportunity to shift a bit and breathe easy before he lied, “Just picked it.”

Jaskier’s hands were back on his thigh, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s just not something I’m asked to do very often. Never for a first tattoo.”

Geralt’s smile turned into a grimace as the needles were back at his skin. Whether it was his sincerity, pretty eyes, or Geralt’s desperate need for a distraction, he bucked up and answered his question, “My- ah, someone told me to find a reminder of things I loved. My horse eats nothing but honeysuckle whenever we go on the trails.”

"That's so fucking cute," Jaskier sighed, still attacking the back of Geralt's leg, "Wouldn't have pegged you for a horse guy. What's their name?"

The pain was easier to ignore when Geralt was rambling about Roach. Jaskier kept the conversation flowing, maybe indulging Geralt’s ramblings a little too much, but by the time he flipped Geralt over to do the inside of his knee they were joking and swapping disastrous college stories like old friends. They took a snack break where the purple eyed woman, Yennefer he'd learned, made fun of his zip shorts and Triss scolded her. It was nice, he felt oddly at home here with these people he’d just met.

The front half of the tattoo was nothing compared to the back and Geralt was able to breathe and just chat. He did his best to convince himself that the feeling in his chest wasn’t disappointment when Jaskier finally finished and wrapped his leg in saniderm.

Jaskier leaned on the front desk while they waited for Geralt’s card to run, "What are you doing after this?"

Geralt's stomach turned with nervous excitement and he truly didn't know how he got his words to come out so casual, "Was just gonna get some ramen and watch reruns, why?"

Jaskier worried at his bottom lip as he stapled the receipt to some paperwork, "There's a great ramen place around the corner and I don't have another appointment tonight…"

Geralt positively beamed, "If you can stand to be seen with someone wearing zipper shorts in public, I'd love to."

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downbythegay · 3 years ago

Note

I asked about the trans reader, I guess it was a bit of both? Lol

What's funny is I was already writing one where the reader comes out to Spencer (who he has feelings for) as trans when you asked this. Here's what you asked for, though! I'll post the other one at some point in the next week, hopefully.

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

Content Warnings: Mentions of transphobia, anxiety, talk of bottom surgery

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

“I followed the trail out of the room, invigorated by the possibility of reinventing my own body. The meaning was mine, as long as I was with those who had the vision and vocabulary to understand my creation.” - Nick Krieger

⁙

Y/N took a deep breath. He’d been getting up the courage to do this for weeks, now. He scanned the rest of his team quickly, trying to determine further if his announcement would put any of them in a bad mood. Spencer was flipping through the pages of a very large book with a french title. Morgan was resting with his shades on and his head back. Rossi and Hotch were discussing something quietly, but Hotch had that slight twinkle in his eye that told Y/N that it wasn’t something serious. Prentiss and JJ were also talking amongst each other, occasionally showing the other something on their phone.

Y/N knew that none of them would hate him for who he was. They weren’t transphobic, at least they’d never shown themselves to be. But he was worried that they’d treat him differently. He was worried that they would baby him or accidentally misgender him, things like that. Things that have happened with other people he’s been out to after being stealth, and that he’s seen happen to other trans guys countless times. Y/N was trying to fight off all the anxious thoughts that have been holding him back.

He knew he didn’t owe them his coming out. But, they had always treated him like family, and he wanted to be able to be as vulnerable with them as they had been with him. He knew it took a lot of strength for Morgan to open up about his past sexual abuse, JJ about her miscarraige, Hotch about his abusive childhood and the loss of his wife, and Spencer about his trauma related to… well most of his life. He wanted to show them his strength, too.

Y/N stood up, and Hotch, Spencer, and Prentiss immediately looked up at him. “Um…,” Y/N faltered. “Oh, Garcia!” he exclaimed. He had almost forgotten to call her to include her in the announcement.

“Hey, Y/N what’s up?” she said, smiling. It was as kind and comforting as ever, and Y/N felt his nerve lighten up a little bit seeing it.

“So, um, I have a, uh, thing I wanted to share with you guys,” Y/N said. Everyone was looking at him now, silent and listening intently. The twinkle in Hotch’s eyes wasn’t there anymore, and the nerves returned. “It’s not like, the most important thing, but I wanted you guys to know since I consider you like family. Um,” Y/N looked down and breathed deeply. Oh, this was a mistake, he thought.

“Whatever it is, we love you like family, too,” Spencer said. His voice was soft and slightly shaky, and a huge comfort to Y/N. Y/N looked back up and locked eyes with Hotch. He nodded at him, silently letting him know that it was fine to sit down or go forward. Hotch always had such a kind sentiment behind his stern countenance.

“Okay, well, I um, okay, here it is: I’m trans. I was born with female anatomy and have been transitioning for a while. I don’t want you guys to treat me any differently than you already have, I just wanted you to know,” Y/N said. He couldn’t bring himself to look anybody in the eyes, just because then it would feel like this was even more real.

“Thank you for telling us. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to do so,” Hotch said. Y/N looked at him, and noticed a slight smile. He felt tears starting to well up in his eyes.

“Ooh! I’m so glad you finally came out! I’m so proud of you!” said Garcia, as enthusiastic as ever.

Y/N laughed a little bit. “Thanks- what do you mean ‘finally’?”

Garcia looked like a deer in headlights. “Uh, nothing. Don’t worry about it!”

Morgan chimed in. “Babygirl, what did you do?”

“I may have done a background check on Y/N when he was brought onto the team, and found out during my snooping. But I didn’t say anything to anyone! Well, except this one drag queen that I was talking to at a bar when I got plastered. But that’s it! And she promised not to say anything either!”

Y/N started laughing really hard. Some of the other team members were chuckling too, including Garcia.

“It’s none of my business, but I’ve read some really fascinating reports about a Norweigan practice for phalloplasties, which are the most medically advanced in the world. They have the most anatomically realistic appearance and nerve feeling, with even some surgeons inserting a device which allows the patient to have what functions as an erection. It’s got an incredible success rate for alleviating gender dysphoria, and-”

“Reid, maybe you could talk to him more privately about this? He just came out, we don’t need to bombard him with facts and questions about it,” Prentiss said. She smiled at Y/N. “Thanks for telling us, Y/N.”

Y/N sat down, with a noticeable weight lifted off of his chest. Rossi came over and sat across from him. “Hey, kid. That took a lot of courage. I’m proud of you.”

Y/N smiled. “Thanks, Rossi.”

“I’m just glad you’re living as yourself. Not enough people do that nowadays,” he said before patting your shoulder and walking back over to sit with Hotch.

You got up and sat next to Reid. “What were you saying about the Norweigan surgery?”

⁙

“I love myself. I am becoming myself. I am loved. I am enough.” - Alex Clare-Young

#transgender reader #trans man #trans reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic'#LGBTQ #Transgender #FTM reader #male reader #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #emily prentiss

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staynoonaz9290 · 3 years ago

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Shift

Prompt: Having a piece of hair brushed off your face as you're reading or looking down.

Group: The Boyz

Pairing: Jacob/Fem! Reader (Third Person - Layla)

Rating: Teen (Just to be safe)

Warnings: Literally none - Jacob’s an angel LOL

Word Count: 1,568

Main Masterlist | The Boyz Masterlist

**This prompt comes from @dreamy-prose, thank you so much! Original prompt post here**

(^^Another one inspired by your post lol)

COMPLETE

Layla stood in the aisles of the library, eyes scanning the spines of the books on the shelves, hands already cradling so many, she knew they would all tumble to the floor with one wrong movement.

Still, she needed the research- Layla needed an A on this project if she wanted good grades for this semester- and if she was being honest…

The subject was fascinating.

“Layla?”

She was startled, jumping a little and squeaking, one- two- three books fell one by one to the floor-

“Oh-”

Layla peered over her shortened stack, her partner’s eyes wide with surprise before he was glancing at the floor.

“I’m sorry… Let me get those for you-”

Jacob didn’t wait for her to answer, moving around her to pick the books off the floor.

“No, it’s not your fault, I’m trying to carry too many at once,” Layle said quickly.

He was already standing up straight again, smiling brightly at her.

“I can take some of these-” he told her, pointing at her books. “If you want-”

“I…”

She glanced down, laughing a little as she adjusted them in her arms.

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed. “I think I’m gonna get more, so-”

Jacob chuckled, taking over half the stack and balancing them in his arms as he raised his eyebrows at her.

“More?”

Layla looked between their stacks, smiling guiltily

“Is it too much?”

Jacob grinned, another laugh slipping from his lips.

“I mean… the library does close-”

She giggled, sighing heavily.

“Okay, fine I’ll stop here.”

They laughed together as she followed him towards their table, the campus library relatively empty this time of night.

She’d met Jacob in her psychology class on their very first day, knowing no one and unsure where to sit. He’d been kind of course- Layla had learned later that Jacob was always kind- offering the seat beside his own when she’d walked into the classroom like a deer caught in headlights, scanning the room for a free chair.

Layla had thanked him, sat down, and within the hour, they were making friendly conversation, even laughing a little by the time class ended that day.

Jacob was just… so easy to get along with.

Naturally, when their professor had announced a partner project for their mid-term assignment, she’d requested Jacob immediately, the man beaming in response, saying yes without a beat of hesitation.

For the past week, they’d been meeting, discussing their subject and how they’d like to present it to the class, and now they were entering phase two of their work.

Research.

Jacob placed his books on the table they’d claimed before turning, grabbing her stack to put it down for her.

“You don’t have to-”

But his fingers were already sliding beneath the bottom book, Layla cutting herself off as he scooped the stack right from her arms.

“It’s no big deal,” he said softly.

There was a warmth where his fingers slid across her skin, and Layla swallowed at the feeling of it, their eyes lingering as they smiled at one another.

“Thanks,” she replied, voice just as quiet as his.

She watched as he set them down gently in front of her seat.

Then together, they sat down, their chairs side by side, Layla pulling some notebooks and pencils out of her backpack before sliding one of each across the table to Jacob. He smiled in thanks before moving some of the books closer to himself, eyes darting along the titles.

Moments like that had been happening a lot with Jacob.

Subtle touches, soft words, gentle smiles and lingering eye contact…

Layla stomach flipped a little at her own thoughts, quickly tearing her gaze from him to start looking at her own stack of books.

She didn’t know when things had started to shift for her- when Jacob had stopped being just the kind, sweet-hearted guy who offered her a chair that first day of class.

Layla didn’t know when she’d started noticing how cute he was when he smiled, how nice it was, talking to him- sometimes for hours, when they would text back and forth- or how much he made her laugh.

She wasn’t sure when she’d started getting excited to come to psychology class twice a week, when she’d started getting nervous when her leg would accidentally bump his own under the table, when her eyes had started darting to him as he took notes and she’d noticed just how beautiful his hands and forearms were, strong with smooth skin-

Layla shook her head slightly, glazed over eyes refocusing as she plucked a random book from her stack, ignoring the fluttering of her heart.

Abnormal Psychology, she told herself firmly. Focus on your subject

Jacob moved in her peripheral vision, and she watched him flip his notebook to the first page, twirling his pencil in his fingers as he pried open his first research book. Her eyes followed the movement of the pencil before she was quickly looking away, copying his movements and getting started on studying.

Several hours had passed, Layla’s books combined with Jacob’s strewn across the table’s surface, ripped pieces of notebook paper smushed between the pages to hold the important spots.

They’d had a fair amount of luck, filling multiple pages with their scribbled notes, but still, they needed more, both Layla and Jacob growing more and more tired as the night progressed.

Somehow- in the time they’d spent together at that table sifting through page after page of information- Jacob’s arm had found its way across the table, pressed gently against her own.

Layla hadn’t said a word, enjoying the warmth, wondering if he’d done it on purpose, if he’d even noticed, if his insides were twisting a little in excitement at the touch-

“Next book,” Jacob muttered, closing a smaller one titled The Other Side of Weird, before grabbing the next one in his stack.

“You’re going faster than me,” Layla said with a giggle, looking at her own, much larger stack to go through. “How are you doing that?”

Jacob laughed quietly, smiling playfully at her.

“Guess I’m just a fast reader.”

She was giggling again, nodding a little.

“Guess so.”

Layla tore her eyes from his, quickly flipping the next page of her book, biting her lip around a smile.

He was distracting- too distracting- and she knew that was the real reason she hadn’t gotten as much reading done as she’d like.

Sighing, she moved her hair to one side, the strands falling like a curtain across her shoulder, falling to the side of her face and obstructing her view of Jacob completely.

Layla could still feel his arm against her own, but she hoped the blinders would help…

If only a little.

Silence fell between them once more, only the scratching of pencils and the soft turns of the pages of their books, Layla’s arm warm against Jacob’s, their legs accidentally brushing as they fidgeted in their chairs, growing restless after how long they’d been sitting there...

After another thirty minutes, Layla heard Jacob close the next book beside her, scribbling more notes before she heard him move in his chair a bit, leg bumping hers for the thousandth time that night.

Then- to her surprise- she felt gentle fingers slide through the strands of her hair, moving the curtain of dark brown locks to the side as she turned to look at him.

Jacob was smiling softly again, and Layla giggled when their eyes met, the man hesitating before gently tucking her hair behind her ear, sending goosebumps racing down her neck.

“I couldn’t see you,” he said quietly. “Wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.”

Layla knew it wasn’t true- knew he could see her taking notes, turning pages, see her moving in her seat- but his fingers were lingering near her ear, their faces were close, and her heart was hammering in her chest as she grinned, his eyes darting between her own.

“Still awake,” she said, voice hushed and slightly breathy. “If you hear me snoring, just kick my chair.”

Jacob laughed at that, glancing at his notebook on the table before looking at her once more, and Layla felt the smile fade just slightly from her face just as his did the same.

Here it was again… that lingering eye contact.

His eyes were beautiful- soft and dark, crinkling when he smiled, always so kind- and she stared at him for a moment, biting nervously on her bottom lip.

Then Jacob was pulling his fingers slowly from her hair, chuckling softly as his arm lowered back to the table.

“Okay,” was his delayed reply. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall asleep.”

Before Layla could ask him how he was going to do that, he was turning away, grabbing the last book from his stack and picking up his pencil.

But the smile still lingered on his face, and she felt his arm shift against her own, warm and deliberate, telling her Jacob had definitely noticed- and probably had this entire time.

Layla grinned, turning back to her notes and trying her best to ignore the butterflies flying madly in her stomach now.

She felt Jacob’s leg shift once again beneath the table, already so close, his knee resting against her own as she froze, waiting for him to pull away at the accidental touch.

But to Layla’s great surprise…

He didn’t.

#jacob the boyz #the boyz jacob #jacob bae #tbz fic #tbz #tbz fanfic #the boyz x female reader #kpop fanfiction #fanfic prompt #fanfiction #college au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop #fluff #study partner #library #flirting

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knit-wear-it · 4 years ago

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AU: Training Day

Mood: In the Pantomime 17 (AO3), Ed is released from his bathtub prison so Jarley can send him off to do their bidding while they hide out at Lee’s. In an alternate universe, Harley & Ed spar together in Lee’s living room instead of having a serious conversation about Vicki Vale.

Rating: Crack / Lolz / Jarley Fluff / AU

AU: Training Day, A Harlequin-Tumblr Exclusive

Ed slept on the couch while Lee took the bed in her spare room, and Ed listened in the dark for the Joker and Harley to talk or fuck or do something, but it appeared they were just sleeping. Boring.

Then in the morning, Harley reappeared, not looking particularly refreshed, and wearing a sporty combination of the electric-blue leggings from the day before with a neon orange sports bra, showing off a very hot little body indeed. Ed pouted at her flat stomach, jealous because he had this little pooch that he just couldn't get rid of.

“Damn, girl,” Ed smirked, giving her his best impression of entitled toxic masculinity. “You’re—“

Harley slapped Ed across the face, making him gasp.

“Cut that shit out, Ed,” she snapped, mommy style. “This is fucking serious.”

Behind her, the Joker was watching as he smoked out the window, just looking… very unimpressed. He caught Harley’s eye, and something silent passed between them, and Ed knew they were both thinking they were wasting their time with him.

“Okay, okay,” he said in a rush. “I’m sorry, it’s the ADHD, I’ll concentrate, I promise. Tell me what to do.”

“I’ve seen footage of you fighting Black Canary and you’ve fought me,” Harley said grimly. “You’re strong, you’re fast, and you have some moves. Where did you learn to fight?”

“Where did I learn to fight?” Ed squinted at her, bewildered.

“If we’re going to work together we need to train together so we can fight together,” Harley explained, nearly making Ed swoon.

“I wrestled in high school,” he mused, trying to be serious. “Since then, mostly Soulcycle, pilates, and box fit.”

Harley’s eyes widened incredulously. “Box fit?”

“Yeah, like,” Ed bounced from one foot to the other, showing her his moves. “Jab, jab, cross! Uppercut! And... shimmie!” He swung his hips from side to side, bouncing on the spot as Harley stared at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

“You learned to box from an aerobics class?” she demanded.

“Well yeah,” Ed rolled his shoulders back, feeling judged. “Where did you learn to fight?”

“Twenty years of gymnastics, an underground Irish boxing club, and a teenage karate prodigey,” she snapped.

“Oh,” Ed’s eyes widened. “So you should really be better than you are, right?”

The Joker snorted and turned away to smoke out the window to avoid Harley’s lethal glare.

“Alright,” Harley sighed, looking around.

She sourced a roll of duct tape and a pair of throw pillows from the couch, then taped them to Ed’s hands, and with Lee’s help, taped a pair around hers too. It all looked very silly but Ed tried to remain serious, because it was obvious Harley was struggling. She looked tired, stressed out, sad, and a little bit hopeless though she was trying to keep it together like the good mommy she was.

Ed seriously doubted the Joker was the sort to give her a pep talk—maybe just multiple orgasms, which was objectively better.

“Okay,” Harley raised her pillow’d hands to cover her face as she spread her feet. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Ed imitated her posture and stance, then started prancing on the spot.

Harley dropped her hands, frowning.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Staying light on my feet,” Ed huffed, trying not to pout that she was being so serious.

“Fine,” she sighed, raising her arms again. “Whatever works for you.” She started shifting from one foot to the other, wholly focused. “Show me some of your moves.”

Ed jabbed and she blocked it easily. He tried a jab-punch-jab combination and she blocked each of them, remarkably strong for those slender little bird arms of hers. He tried a jab-jab-cross, right-hook, and Harley blocked all of it, looking bored.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Ed narrowed his eyes, determined to impress her.

This time he advanced on her instead of just showing her combinations. She blocked, blocked, blocked, backing up as he got her on the backfoot. Ed felt like he was finally getting some momentum when she ducked, pivoted, and kicked him in the chest just like she did at the Hill fundraiser, hard enough to make him gasp and stagger back.

Harley lowered her leg, grinning as Ed rubbed his chest.

“Come on, Ed,” she taunted him, bouncing from one foot to the other, mocking him. She smirked and raised an eyebrow all sassy. “Show me what you got.”

Ed huffed again, narrowing his eyes in concentration before he attacked. She blocked and ducked, slipping right and left, moving too fast for Ed to hit her, and then after a few minutes of letting him chase her around the room, she kicked him in the chest again.

Ed scowled, even though really he was delighted to see her smirking, a light sheen of sweat on her chest as she gestured for him to attack her again. Behind her, the Joker lit a new cigarette, staring at her ass happily.

They were all like one big happy family. Even Lee was in the kitchen watching with an amused look on her face as she made them breakfast.

Then Harley attacked Ed before he had a chance to get his footing, forcing him to block and slip, imitating her with remarkable efficiency.

“Good,” she encouraged, when he swiped at her head, missing her. “Good, faster. Come on, Ed, faster!” She laughed like she was having fun, and Ed followed her directives. She went in to kick him in the chest again, and this time he grabbed her ankle with the intention of pulling her leg out from under her. But instead of falling on her ass, she threw herself into a back handspring, kicking him in the face as she bounced off her pillowed hands and landed gracefully on her feet, throwing her arms up in a V-like gymnastics pose.

“Owwwww,” Ed whined, his bottom lip jutting out as he rubbed his face.

“Is a kick to the face really enough to take you out?” Harley scoffed.

“Why doesn’t J have to train,” Ed pouted, flapping a hand at the Joker.

“Because he’s freakishly strong and fast, and he can shoot a flea off your arm from twenty feet away,” Harley rolled her eyes as Lee offered Ed some ice for his face.

Behind her, the Joker shrugged modestly, looking amused.

“Thank you, Lee,” Ed cooed, giving her puppy dog eyes that made her chuckle and shake her head. Then he turned back to Harley. “Well if J’s fighting with us why don’t you two sparr and let me watch?”

“We don’t do that,” Harley frowned.

“Ah c’mon, Puddin’,” the Joker drawled, flicking his cigarette out the window before he swayed up to her, raising a challenging eyebrow. “What’re you scared of, huh?”

“You’re injured,” Harley pointed out drily.

“Bet I can still take ya,” J smirked, making Harley scoff.

She hesitated as she thought it over, then shrugged helplessly and pulled off her pillow gloves.

“Fine,” she agreed lightly, raising her eyebrows as she squared off with him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The Joker chuckled throatily and rolled those tasty lanky shoulders back while Harley planted her feet and held her fists in front of her face, all serious and professional.

“Show me what ya got,” the Joker taunted her, smirking.

Ed lowered himself onto the couch to watch, absolutely fascinated to see what would happen.

Harley jabbed and the Joker swatted her hand away, shooting her an unimpressed look. They did this twice more, and J sighed like he was bored, spurring Harley to try a fraction hader, forcing him to duck a right hook. He straightened up with an intrigued hum and she jabbed at his face, hard enough to hurt him this time.

But he caught her wrist, spun her around, and wrenched her arm behind her back at an angle that made her yelp as he forced her to double over, holding her there for a prolonged second before releasing her, looking smug.

“I guess—“ he started to say, but Harley launched herself at him again, actually punching him in the jaw with an uppercut that made him laugh as his head snapped back. She went to kick him in the gut but he caught her leg, and yanked her forward, spinning her around so his arm was around her neck, making her huff and pant as she tried to get free.

“Give up yet?” he asked her slyly.

“Nope,” Harley gasped.

She folded forward, throwing the Joker over her shoulder so he landed flat on his back, laughing weakly when Harley sat on his chest. She grabbed his arms and pinned them over his head.

“I win,” she smirked triumphantly.

The Joker flipped her onto her back so fast Ed gasped in delight. Then J sat on her stomach and pointed a sharp index finger at Harley’s forehead.

“Bang,” he smirked lazily.

Harley locked her knees around his hips and flipped them over again, but just as quickly the Joker rolled over once more, with far less effort than Harley had to exert, and this time he pinned her arms over her head.

“I win,” he declared.

“Really,” Harley widened her eyes. She had her leg between his thighs, poised to knee him in the balls. “Don’t make me do it, J” she let her bottom lip stick out in a pout.

The Joker hummed thoughtfully then bent down to whisper something in her ear, making her giggle and wrinkle her nose before she lowered her leg and he released her arms.

Ed looked at Lee, his heart swelling.

“They’re so cute,” he hissed, feeling privileged to see this private little moment between these dangerous people.

A/N: Alright, that’s all from me for a while. I may do a four-parter called “Symmetry” at some point next year. I officially have almost two scenes (out of like, 150 scenes) drafted for The Rabbit Hole.

Wishing you all a happy new year. Pop over to FFN or Ao3 to leave your review of the Pantomime if you haven’t already!

PS: Asks are open for a couple more days if anyone would like to submit, but i encourage you to do it non-anonymously - it makes me feel like you actually exist, lol.

Like it, note it, reblog it, show me some love <3

#the pantomime #the harlequin #jarley #harley quinn #the joker #the riddler #edward nygma #au #fluff #crack #lol

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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 5 years ago

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A Bouquet For You || 02 - Carnation

A Bouquet For You Masterlist

taglist: @disgruntled-gay @moonchild-kun94 @skyguy-peach @error707-thememelord @o51oc @nanacee @prettysetter @sugawsites @shareyourfandomfaves

The next morning is exactly what you feared. You wake up late, missing the three alarms that you had set for yourself, and after some deliberation, you decide to go without breakfast. Not your best idea, but between being late on your first day or a hearty meal, you’d choose the former any day. First impressions were important.

“Are you sure you’re not going to eat?” Kenma asks, watching you fumble around with your shoes at the doorway. “Or actually, where are you even going this early?”

“Work. First day,” you say hurriedly. Turning the doorknob, you turn back to give him a quick wave or something similar to it. “See you. I’ll be back later tonight.”

“B-bye?” he responds like a question. After all, Kenma still doesn’t understand why you’re conversing with him like a real person. The feeling of living with someone after so long feels foreign, and he’s continuously caught by surprise with your behavior. Even a rush, you still poured a glass of milk for him, forgetting that spirits don’t need calcium for strong bones. He drank it nonetheless, being very confused.

Work is exactly what you had imagined it to be. Hell. Within your very first hour, you’re bombarded with new tasks and papers. “Experience is key,” your supervisor had said, but between the directions being fired at you and more coworkers just giving you endless stacks of files, you quickly are at a loss for what to do. Between flipping through the manual and managing your work properly, you find yourself already utterly exhausted by lunch break.

Lunch break. That was your next problem. Nobody wanted to involve themselves with the new, troublesome rookie, leaving you to eat on your own, albeit quickly, because you wanted to get things done.

“D-do you mind if I sit here with you?” a small, shaky voice stammers. You look up from scrolling through your phone to see a short, blonde woman. She grips tightly at her lunch bag, eyes quivering. “You don’t have to let me, though! I don’t want to be too pushy!”

“I don’t mind!” you answer kindly, offering the chair next to you. You watch as the woman of nerves shakily takes the spot. “Actually, thanks for offering. I was worried that I was going to have a hard time getting along with other people.”

“It’s always hard on the first day. I’ve been here for a few months, and it’s still really difficult for me!” she agrees. She seems more relaxed, shoulders going down slightly. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the woman opens her lunch before jolting upright. “I’m sorry! I never introduced myself. I’m Yachi Hitoka!”

You vaguely remember her name, and you realize that it’s the person whose desk is right next to you. You’re embarrassed, to say the least, realizing that you barely made sufficient introductions to the people around you. Offering your own name in turn and apologizing profusely, the two of you get along better than expected. As it turns out, Yachi, though having only been at the company for less than half a year, was a designer genius. Often tasked to be the leader of poster projects, your coworker who seemed only to be made out of nerves was a master at what she did. You hoped to be like her one day.

“It’s a little rough at first,” she admits, wiping stray crumbs off the table, “but you’ll be fine. To be honest, I saw some of the samples you sent in with your resume. Just a peek though! Your pattern-designing is really interesting and pretty, so I think they’ll be useful in the future. If you need any help…you know…feel free to ask me.”

After lunch, you feel like a new person. You’re not sure if it’s just getting food in your system, or Yachi’s genuine optimism and show of support, but you’re determined to work harder. After getting chewed out by your supervisor for making multitudes of errors in the files, you’re back at rock bottom again. Expected.

Walking out of the office building, you trudge your way back home, squeezing your way through the mob of people all rushing to get back home at the station. Taking the train was economical on your part, but a massive hellish experience. You always took notice to stay near the doors, but eventually, people would just push you toward the middle, and you’d be stuck there. Pushing your way back out was a million times worse, as you never felt good about shoving other passengers, even if their actions warranted it.

From there, you carefully follow your GPS back to your apartment complex on foot. You didn’t exactly know yet the area that well, so you were careful to not get lost. As you’re walking, you stop and notice the little florist shop and its display of pink and red flowers. They’re small, and the way the setting sun hits the freshly watered petals, reflecting glimmers of light, fascinates you. Walking closer toward the shop, you lean down and admire the delicate beauty in awe.

“Sorry, but that’s just display. We’re currently out of carnations,” a familiar deep voice informs, followed by the closing and locking of the door. You look up to the source and let out an audible gasp. “Oh, hey. It’s you.”

“So that’s what you meant last night by cutting and dying,” you muse, looking at your neighbor and the daffodils he has in hand. “And here I thought you were some kind of gang leader.”

“I suppose what I said taken out of context sounds pretty bad,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. He looks down at his bouquet and motions them toward you. “I was gonna give you this when I got back, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. Here. Congratulations on moving in, Neighbor.”

“Thanks,” you laugh, graciously accepting the house-warming gift. “Although, it’d be better if I could get a name to thank. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Shit, did I never mention a name?” he murmurs, tsking. You almost laugh again. Poor introductions seemed to be a pattern, and you were one of the worst offenders. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. I’m, as you can see, the owner of this shop. Some people call me a florist, but I’m really a plant magician.”

“I’m sure you are,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. “Did you just get off from work?”

“Yup. This shop closes every day at 7 PM. Won’t be catching me doing overtime.”

“What about last night?”

“Except when I forget things, which usually doesn’t happen,” Kuroo clarifies with a smirk. He glances at your offense attire and raises a brow. “First day not so good, huh? Are you going home? I’d be willing to lend an ear if you’d like.”

“How kind of you,” you sigh, then nod tiredly. “It’s my second day here, and I already have a therapist. Lovely.”

“It’s good to complain a little from time to time.”

Following the florist, you hum a little in contemplation. Then, taking a deep breath, you being to talk about how terrible your day was and how you’ve been yelled at more times today than ever in your life and that reading the manual over and over again actually didn’t help, but none of the senior workers were very approachable. To be honest, you felt a little bit silly, opening up so quickly to a stranger, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. In fact, you don’t even notice when you’re right in front of the door to your apartment room until you hear the jingling of Kuroo’s own keys.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” you murmur, embarrassed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. “I didn’t mean to rant-“

“But you look so much better after letting a little bit of steam off,” Kuroo interrupts, flashing you an insanely bright smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Since we’re neighbors that share the same route home, let’s just be friends, yeah?”

“Y-yeah?” you say like a question. “I mean, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Then, see you around, or maybe tomorrow, Y/N,” the florist concludes, unlocking the door to his room, already halfway in. “Hope tomorrow goes better for you.”

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a wave before stepping into your own home. Setting your shoes aside, you quickly wonder what to do with the flowers. It’s not like you had a vase ready, so you take an empty water bottle out from the recycling instead. Carefully setting the yellow buds into the container, you leave it at the center of the table, deciding that the centerpiece brought a little life into your apartment.

“Hey,” you hear Kenma murmur, walking out of your room with console in hand. You then remember that you really did more life in your apartment. “Nice flowers.”

“You’re not even looking at them,” you chuckle and roll your eyes. “The neighbor gave them to me. Do you like them?”

“They’re fine.”

You laugh again at his aloof attitude and try to throw away the parchment paper that was used to wrap the bouquet. It’s until then that you notice a small note flutter down onto the floor. You bend over and pick it up, wondering if it’s a price tag or something of the sort.

“Hey, it’s Kuroo. You probably already knew that lol. Anyways, I hope u like daffodils. Keep them away from direct heat, and they should live for a while. Since we both seem to be like night owls, feel free to cure my of my boredom. XXX-XXX-XXXX”

“Why are you smiling in the middle of the kitchen?” Kenma asks, brow raised, and in hindsight, you must have looked dumb. If a ghost thought you were creepy, the look you had on must have been just terrible.

“Nothing,” you say quickly and scramble to set the note aside. You know he doesn’t buy it, but you don’t care or want to elaborate on how the florist next door’s kindness made you feel unusually warm. Surprisingly, finding your first friend in a new area was much more relieving that you had expected it to be, especially when your new friend seemed so open and lived close by. “It’s just a note on how to take care of the daffodils.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief silence, and you brush it off as him going back to his game. “I guess that’s fitting since they mean new beginnings or something like that.”

Now that was odd coming from a ghost who couldn’t even remember why he was still here.

“How do you know that?” You watch as he comes to a realization too, eyes widening ever so slightly out of sheer surprise. HIs reaction reassures you that he isn’t lying to you about the amnesia, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m not sure.” He’s frowning, seeming to rack his mind for any clue, anything at all to remind him of where his knowledge came from and why he couldn’t move on. It’s all fruitless in the end. “I…really don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a small smile. “It doesn’t matter that much anyway. I don’t mind cooking another portion, especially when you eat so little. Or maybe I eat a lot- Well, whatever.”

From the couch, Kenma nods and sinks into the cushions. Still, he wants to know why out of everything he could have remembered, why were they the flowers. In his current state, he can’t imagine himself as a flower buff in the past; hell, he doesn’t remember being the sun, but every morning when it rises, he feels like he’d hate to be in it, so if he can’t stand the outdoors now, he probably couldn’t either in the past. He thinks hard and long, but when you call him and tell him that’s dinner’s ready, all he can do is give up and go listen about your day.

It’s all so strange, he thinks.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma kozume

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 5 years ago

Note

hi💕 did you get my ask yesterday? anyway it’s okay if you didn’t, i just got another idea because i’m feeling shitty today, what about chris and you liking each other but you don’t want to say anything because you don’t feel worthy of him so when he insinuates you just dismiss him and he thinks you don’t like him like super angsty but happy ending?

This one was fun, I hope I got that bit of angsty feel to it, while keeping it light hearted. If he ever told me he had feelings for me, I would be all adkfjakldfjqier HOT MESS. Lol. If you like this kind of theme, @jtargaryen18 has a great chapter one with this feel called Jealous Guy with Chris x Reader. Its so good!

You looked at Chris as you popped open his fridge, and stuck your head in. “Buddy, if you are out of beer before this bbq even begins, can we even call it a bbq?” Straightening and looking at the thread bare shelves, you arch a brow. Did he even eat?

“Its out in the garage Y/N, trust me I know better then not to have beer.” He rolls his eyes at you, making burger patties and setting them on a platter, a splash of Worcester sauce, salt, pepper. Yea good enough. You make your way to the garage through the kitchens side door and grab two bottles. Okay, thats better. He had a full fridge in the garage, as well as the extras to bring out into the back yard when they go to set up.

Going back in, you make sure the door is firmly shut, outside was sweltering already, and you considered the idea that you all maybe should have extra ice on hand. “Yes I got plenty of ice to” Chris says with a grin as he rips off some saran wrap and covers the burgers before handing you the platter to place into his fridge.

“I promise, I only asked you here to hang out. I got all the rest covered." Chris moved to wash his hands and you hip check the fridge shut.

"Okay! Okay! I give! I'm here.... Only as a guest...."

He paused, knowing it was coming.

".... Who feels like she should help you get ready."

That earned you a hand towel being chucked at you, the two of you laughing as you both headed out to his patio, calling Dodger to join you two, and Chris snagged his sunglasses while waiting for his pup to join you two.

The two of you has been best friends for many years, it was an easy going, no expectation kinda deal. There we're times, you wanted to take it further, you knew those little over the top things he did privately for his girlfriend's, after all you had helped him brainstorm a few of them. But they were never for you, always the best friend, you weren't complaining. You valued this, but you wondered what it could have been like.

You were out of his league anyways, you knew that, he knew that. Life is what it is. These were your thoughts on the subject.

But the past year he pulled back from that scene. Seemed to focus on himself, what he wanted to accomplish after his Marvel stint. You had asked him a couple times if he was seeing anyone. Chris would just kind of shrug, become elusive in his answers. "He, I'm to busy"

Somehow you would never catch his glance your way when you would go back to what you were doing. He was not to busy, he was conflicted.

You were his best friend. He didn't want to ruin one of his most valued relationships by asking for more. Even if it could be the best thing in his life.

"When's everyone supposed to get here?" You ask, as you move over to sit on the edge of his in ground pool. Kicking off your flip flops and lowering to dip your toes in, and sinking your leg in as you sat down, careful with the glass bottle. He loped over next to you, already barefoot, he lowered next to you and took a drag before he set it next to yours.

"Couple hours yet, although Scott and Zach will probably be by sooner."

"They are so damn cute" you remarked, having just met Scotts boyfriend a few weeks ago when you were invited to a party they were throwing

Chris chuckled softly, watching Dodger on the other side of the pool, rubbing himself in the freshly cut grass, staining his white fur green. "They really are, and Scotts so happy, probably the happiest ive seen him in a long time." You picked up on that wistful note, glancing over at him and let your shoulder nudge him. "Did I just hear a note of longing Christopher, Mr. I like being a bachelor?"

You were only teasing, but he looked thoughtful at you, blue eyes scanning over your face, and you felt that all familiar tingle flushing the tops of your cheeks. Damn it y/n, check yourself woman.

"Well maybe, yea. I would like something more then the occasional fling, and just sex. But I'm not sure she be interested in me like that. We've never discussed it, and shes never necessarily hinted in more then what we got."

You, so completely not picking up on what he was really saying, cause in your mind, he couldn't ever be into you. "Well doofus, you have to tell her. Come on, your a catch Chris. Any woman would be happy with you, and with luck, she will make you happy to." You tipped back your bottle, the icy cold beer tingling your lips in that delicious way, your tongue would swipe along your bottom lip, Chris trying to keep himself from getting to distracted.

Playing with the neck of his bottle, he sloshed it a bit, and then set it aside before taking a drink from it. “Okay, I will. Y/N, what do you say, would you like to go out on a date with me?” You just about choked on your beer, sputtering and he reached over to tap his hand against your back. “Jesus Christ woman, breath!”

“You-you want to go out, with me? why in the world would you want to...?” Your voice drifted off, and Chris arched his brows, reaching out to take your hand, which you let him. Still shocked at his question.

“Really Y/N? You cant really be questioning why? Ive known you for years. We have fun together, you already know about all the risks that come to dating me. Youve never, wondered about what it would be like for us? Cause I have many times.”

“Well yea Chris, I mean... ive noticed, dont get me wrong. But im me... your you, it just...” You gave a shrug, not really wanting to say those words. Chris tilted his head, blue eyes searching for what you werent exactly spitting out, and shook his head.

“I dont get what you mean Y/N, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Come on Chris”pulling back your hand, you splashed your leg a bit while drawing it out, and wrapping your arm around it as you bent it, watching the water run down to the tips of your toes, suddenly they were fascinating, you could really just watch those droplets race away all day then to answer Chris’s question. But he wasnt backing down, and you could feel his incredibly blue in the sunshine, im innocent but also know what Im doing to you babes, eyes fucking staring at you. “You are so out of my league, Ive seen the woman youve dated in the past.”

Taken aback, his brows furrowed in frustration. “Thats bullshit Y/N, you think I would think anyone wouldnt deserve me cause I happen to make movies?” He went silent, contemplating what he wanted to say next. The fact that you felt that way about yourself just proved that he was going to have to show you how incredible you were. “Just a chance Y/N, if you have any feelings for me. Its all I ask for.” Turning back to you, he dipped his head to hover near yours.

Waiting for you to give an answer, your heart race cause he was that close. You could feel the soft breaths of air coming from his soft breaths and your eyes darted to those full lips, making your own throb with wanting to brush against them. But hes your friend, your mind screams and then a soft whisper. But he can be so much more.

It was all interrupted when Scott called from inside the house, and you pulled away, scooting back and moving to a stand, grabbing the emptied beer bottles. It was an excuse to get away from what you actually wanted to say. “Let me grab us another!” Racing away to go greet Scott, Chris lets his head falls into his hands, groaning. I was so close, and scared you away.

Scott busted through the door to find Chris pulling himself to a stand, catching the drawn look he had, he tilted his head “Out with it, I know that look, and thats the one you use when something is bugging you.”

“Nothing is wrong Scott” Chris lied, Dodger promptly coming over to greet his “uncle”, in which Scott immediately ruffled his ears. Not to be distracted though, he gave another spill it motion.

“Okay, if you MUST know Scott, I might have told Y/N I had feelings for her.”

Scotts eyes widened, and he grinned. “Well its about damn time Chris! You two have been dancing around each other for a year. Even Zach said we should just push you two together to kiss.”

“Yea well, it didnt go as I hoped.” His hand went up to the back of his neck, rubbing it. “She feels shes not in the same league? How is that even a worry.”

Scott shrugged and loped his arm over his brothers shoulder. “Hey, shes probably just nervous and caught her by surprise. Talk to her again after the party, and relax bro. Trust in your gut.” Chris wrinkled his brow as he listened to Scott, he made some good points. It was unexpected after all. He had certainly never hinted it before at you that he had any real interests. “Come on, let go see what those two are up to and finish setting up.”

Inside, you and Zach were dicing up some fruit they had brought for a fruit salad, having avoided bringing Chris that second beer, and Chris didnt remark on it once they came back inside. He smiled over at you and you glanced down right quick, moving to drop the strawberries in. Was it going to be awkward? Fuck you hoped not. But to your relief, there was no change. Everyone fell into an easy chatter, Chris went and started his grill, and before you all knew it, the party was underway with people showing up, bringing more food, games were played and most likely to much beer got consumed.

The evening started winding down, and you bid your goodbyes, touching Chris’s arm “So im going to head out, it was a great time, dont forget to drink some water before bed though. You will wake up with a headache.” A frown plays on his lips.

“Wait, your really leaving? I thought we could talk.” His eyes flashed hopeful at you, and honestly right now it was all more then you wanted to get into.

“Yea, I got an early morning and stuff I need to take care of.” White lies werent harmful, right?

“How about I come over tomorrow then?” He was still trying, one thing about Chris, once he set his mind to something, he rarely backed down.

“Text you, I promise!” You say a bit overly cheerfully and dart out the door, leaving him on his own once more. Digging out your keys, you escape to your car and pull out of his drive. Driving around, you ended up going nowhere near home, instead you drove around, trying to process your thoughts.

Why couldnt you Y/N? Dont you deserve some kind of happiness and youve always been attracted to him. Just always putting yourself down, you did that with your ex to. Here Chris was saying he had feelings beyond just friends and you ducked out the door before telling him that you might have as well for years.

This was how it went for a couple hours, getting dark you turned on your head lights, and before you realized where you were, your car pulled into Chris’s driveway, tapping your fingers on the wheel. His lights were still on, but everyones cars were gone. Were you really going to do this? Yes... Yes you are. Y/N, you have someone who wants to see if you two are meant to be something more, someone you actually care for as well. Stop holding back.

Going up the front steps, you consider letting yourself in, but you simply knock instead, twisting your fingers together. Dodgers bark emits, and you can hear Chris on the other side. “Hush boy, its okay. Back up buddy.” And then the click, he opened his door and a quirk of a smile folds up the corner of his mouth. “Hey.... “ You take a deep breath and step up to him, grasping his face in your hands, and sweep up to your toes to reach him. Why he have to be ridiculously tall? The sharp taste of beer and him flooded your senses, and his arm tilted around to brace you in close, holding back enough so you could control this kiss, it was yours, and he wasnt about to scare you off again.

Pulling back, you smooth your hands down to his shoulders, clearing your throat. “First of all, Chris you know I dont want to loose our friendship, second I want to see how good we could be. And third...”

Suddenly Scott appeared in the background, grinning wide. Apparently he didnt leave. “ITS ABOUT TIME YOU TWO!!!”

Cats out of the bag, you and Chris were going to see where this would go.

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hongism · 5 years ago

Text

not your typical flower shop story

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Flower Shop Owner!Taehyung, College!Reader, College!Taehyung, Fluff, Slight Angst, eventual smut

Word Count: 7751

Rating: M

Warnings: mild language

Summary: You always goes to the cute boy next door’s flower shop across the street because hi yes he’s the cutest damn person you’ve ever seen, until one day a guy with tattoos and a severe obsession with the color black shows up in the shop asking for the ‘usual’ and you find out that your cute innocent little flower boy has a dirty little secret.

A/N (edit): okay lol i know i don’t need another series but i seriously can’t let this be a one-shot or a stand alone piece SO we’ve got a new series lads

⇐ previous | next ⇒

“The usual, Miss L/N?” You smile at the red tulips beneath your nose before shifting to direct your grin at the young man speaking to you. He wears his typical white apron, still stained brown from the dirt on the back counter, and that precious boxy smile he blesses you with every time you visit.

“Surprise me, Taehyung-ssi,” you respond. Taehyung laughs under his breath as he turns back to his counter. “Also, how many times do I have to tell you that you can call me Y/N?”

“Sorry, Y/N. It’s an unbreakable habit. I’m too used to calling all my other clients by their last names.” Taehyung begins to hum as he works, taking flowers from their holders in a seemingly random manner. “I guess I should be better at remembering to call you by your first name since you come so often.” You blink at Taehyung, eyes wide. Has he caught on? Does he know why I visit? He just keeps smiling and humming, trimming the ends of his freshly picked flowers.

You don’t think you can tolerate the embarrassment of him finding out why you come so frequently, and if he were to confront you about it, you don’t think you could have an excuse off the top of your head. Maybe say something stupid like oh I just love flowers so much, and not I come every week because it means I get to see your face and you’re simultaneously the cutest and hottest damn person I’ve ever seen so I’ll keep buying flowers from you if it means your shop stays open for me to see you more. Yea, that would not be the best thing to say, so you may have to start working harder at coming up with good excuses.

“I think violets would look pretty in your windowsill. Should I set aside a second bundle for you in addition to the bouquet?”

“U-Uh, pardon? My windowsill?”

“Yes, you kept the daffodils from last time there for a while. I think you forgot about them though, because last I saw, they looked a little dead.” Taehyung glances at you out of the corner of his eye. When he sees your expression, he seems to realize how strange his comments are. “Uh, n-not that I’m like stalking you or anything! I swear I’m not! That would be weird, and um…I just noticed that you—I—this is really awkward, isn’t it?”

“Slightly awkward, ultra creepy,” you laugh back, scratching at the back of your neck.

“Well, the thing is—I, uh, saw you putting the daffodils in the window sill. But I wasn’t watching or stalking you! It’s just because business was slow at the time, and I was looking around. I just happened to notice you...I mean, your apartment is just across the street, right?”

You nod slowly as Taehyung fights to make his case. “Yes, that makes sense, I guess.”

“Haha, please don’t stop coming because I seem creepy.” Taehyung stops trimming the flowers and turns to you. He stretches his arms in your direction, palms facing upwards as though pleading you to stay. A smile twitches at your lips. Dammit no, Y/N. Don’t think about how cute he is. He’s not cute. Or hot. He’s neither of those things. C’mon get a grip. You bite your bottom lip to keep the gesture from coming to life.

“You want me to keep coming?” You ask, and the smile breaks through. Taehyung stands straight again, laughing as he does.

“Well, yea! You’re my best customer after all.”

You’re glad Taehyung can’t hear your heart plummet at his small statement. It shouldn’t bother you — no, it doesn’t bother you. Not one bit. He doesn’t know you after all, and you don’t know him. It’s just an owner-client relationship based around your ridiculous reasons for spending hard-earned money on flowers you can’t even keep alive.

Taehyung turns back to his work table before your smile crumbles, and you go back to staring at the red tulips. He takes his time in trimming and selecting the flowers for your bouquet. Neither of you makes an effort to attempt conversation again. One minute, two minutes, then five pass you by like the breeze in the air.

“You’re quiet today,” Taehyung comments through the silence.

“I am?” Of course you are: you don’t really want to talk more after Taehyung’s shutdown that hurt for no reason. You aren’t going to admit it though, because that’s admitting defeat, and you hate that.

“You normally ask me about my day, how I’m doing, if the shop is doing well...all sorts of stuff.”

“Sorry, I’m just feeling quiet today.”

“I guess I’ll have to wait until next week when you come by for another bouquet then?” There’s a small lilt in Taehyung’s voice that sounds a bit like teasing. It bites at your skin, and you chew the inside of your cheek. A blush covers your cheeks now, embarrassment at your routine visits to the flower shop hitting, and you’re grateful Taehyung isn’t looking in your direction. When you fail to respond, Taehyung spins on his heel to look you in the eye. “Is everything okay? It’s not like you to be quiet.”

“How would you know what I’m like?” you ask out of the blue, unsure where the somewhat scathing question comes from yourself. Taehyung takes a step back at the question.

“A-Ah, you’re right. I don’t really know what you’re like. I’m sorry that I made an assumption. It’s just, well, you’ve been coming for quite a few weeks now. I figured — nevermind.” Taehyung drops his chin. The sight of his forlorn expression makes you equally as upset, and you rush to make up for your mean words.

“I’m teasing, Taehyung-ssi! Please don’t look so serious. I didn’t mean to offend you.” You hear his laugh before you see his rectangular smile.

“No worries, Y/N. It takes a lot more than that to offend me. You just caught me off guard. Reminded me of someone I know for a second.” Taehyung points at the wall of flowers to your left, a pink dahlia still in hand. “How do you feel about Peruvian Lilies? My most recent batch have been doing really well, and I think they’ll look nice with the other flowers.”

“I trust your choices! They are gorgeous, though.” You blink at the delicate flowers and their details, grinning as Taehyung analyzes the batch and selects a few for the bouquet. There’s a nagging sensation in the back of your head, reminding you how rude you were earlier.

“Aren’t they? I was surprised by how well they’ve been doing because the weather is so finicky nowadays. Either lots of sunshine or gloomy rainy days.”

“You grow most of them yourself, right? How do you find the time to do that? What about school?” You’ve been desperate to ask the question for at least three weeks now, so much so that you nearly came three times in one week just to ask Taehyung that.

“School? Oh, I’m in my last year. I have a few early classes, which is why I open the shop at 4:00,” he laughs. He must sense the next question on your lips, because he follows it up with, “I am studying business, but the corporate world isn’t really my pace so I decided to do this instead. Thought that it’d be nice to be my own boss and make my own business the way I wanted to rather than letting big headed corporate people do it for me. Make sense?”

“Absolutely, yea!” You respond with enthusiasm.

“What about you? I’m assuming you’re in school?” Your willingness to make conversation seems to please Taehyung, so you keep up with it despite the slight dejection lingering in your gut.

“Yes, I’m in my third year right now! Ready to be done, honestly. It would be nice if it were my last year too; you’re lucky to be so close to getting that degree and being done with it.”

“Hey, you’re almost there! What are you studying?”

“Linguistics with a minor in psychology!”

“Wow, that sounds so fancy. What exactly do you wanna do with that? It seems like you have something specific in mind.”

“I’m hoping to be a speech and language therapist. I’ve always wanted to do something that lets me help people, and languages are fascinating to me. I thought this was the best way to combine my passions.” Taehyung pauses his work with the flowers, shoulders slumping forward. You blink at his back, curious as to why his mood shifted all the sudden, and are about to question him when he speaks.

“Wow…that’s — uh, you’re a really good person. That’s amazing how you want to help people and do good things for others. I...I can’t imagine.” Taehyung fumbles over his words and clenches his fists around his apron, tugging the fabric into a tight grip. What does he mean by that?

“Oh, um…” you trail off. The sound of cars whizzing behind you distracts you from whatever you were going to say. Taehyung silently returns to your bouquet, and you notice how he picks up his pace with the work. A few minutes of quiet pass between the two of you.

“Here’s the bouquet and violets for your window.” Part of you feels responsible for the change in Taehyung’s mood, so you rack your brain for ideas on how to fix this issue. Taehyung passes the flowers your way as you rush to pull cash out of your wallet.

“H-How much for the violets?” You ask while you flip through the measly amount of bills in your hand.

“No extra charge.” Taehyung grins and stops you in your tracks, but it only serves to make you feel worse. You pass your wad of cash to Taehyung in exchange for the flowers, sliding a few extra bills his way and hoping that he won’t comment on the extra. “Wait, Y/N, this is—”

“Please, it’s a tip! Just consider it to be a tip, okay? For all the trouble I caused you today.” You scratch the back of your neck, and heat starts to rise to your ears.

“You didn’t cause me any trouble though,” Taehyung laughs. “How can you be so kindhearted?” He shakes his head, almost in disbelief, before waving his hand as though to dismiss the topic. “Anyways, I’ll see you next week then? Hopefully?”

“Yea! Yea, for sure. I’ll come again next week.” You clutch the flowers a bit closer to your chest. Taehyung smiles and turns to return to his counter at the back. You know you should leave now and not risk overstaying your welcome, but you can’t bring yourself to move quite yet. Even with the small tip you gave Taehyung (which technically isn’t even a tip because he gave you violets as well as the bouquet), you still feel bad about your earlier snippy attitude and rudeness. The anxiety bubbling in your stomach tells you that you may regret this decision later but… “Wait, Taehyung-ssi!”

“Yea, Y/N? Is there something else you needed?” He loops his thumbs through the string around his waist, head tilted to the side in question.

“What—um, are you busy tonight?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Your repeated question comes much fainter and weaker this time as your confidence ebbs away, and you debate turning to flee rather than staying to hear his answer.

“Hm, not that I can think of. Why?”

“Could I treat you to dinner or something then? I mean, I still feel bad for being so rude earlier…and the extra flowers. It’s the least I can do!” You think that you’re starting to sound a bit desperate, but you have no other ideas in mind.

“Y/N, you’re the one paying me every week for flowers. I should be treating you.”

“No, no, I insist! Please, if anything, just to have a change of scenery for a bit?” Taehyung brings a hand to his chin, tapping the skin there as he looks at the wall of flowers on his right. After a few tense seconds, he finally relents.

“Sure, Y/N. If it’ll make you feel better, then I’d be happy to go! Why don’t we meet here around seven o’clock? I close the shop at 6:30 today. How does that sound?” You beam back at him, nodding your agreement a few times. “Okay, sounds like a plan then. Now shoo before I give you more flowers and make you feel even worse!” Taehyung makes a few shooing motions with his hands, smile never leaving his lips, and you grin back as you relent and start to walk away from the shop.

The sidewalks and streets are bustling at this time; workers rushing to get home after their long days and students moving to wherever they please. You shuffle across the street alongside some other students, narrowly avoiding rushing cars. You hesitate outside the door to your apartment building, however, and take a moment to glance back over your shoulder in the direction of Taehyung’s small shop. He stands at the front, one hand clutching some of the pretty Peruvian Lilies he added to your bouquet, and uses his free hand to wave at people as they pass his stall. A laugh rushes through your body as you realize that you basically asked him out minutes ago and he agreed. The bitterness that once resided from his comment about you being only his customer is now replaced by the joy and excitement of spending one on one time with Taehyung.

You hurry up the stairs, the three flights feeling particularly long today as you’re eager to place the new violets in your windowsill.

“More flowers, Y/N?”

You roll your eyes before even turning to look at the owner of the voice. It’s your neighbor from across the hall: the young woman not much older than you who holds a steely gaze sixty percent of the time and the other forty percent consists of her bloodshot and hazy glances that can’t ever seem to focus on anything in particular. You don’t make a habit of talking to her, but she often finds you before you have a chance to escape. You plaster a fake grin across your lips and spin on your heel so she can see your expression.

“Good afternoon, Hifumi. Not looking so hot right now, are you? Have a rough night?”

“It was just fine actually. Thanks for asking, love. Extra flowers from your dearest flower boy, I see. Did you find the courage to tell him why you visit so often?” Hifumi brushes her dark hair over her shoulder before placing her hand on her hip and sending a sickly sweet smile your way.

“A gift for my windowsill since the last batch was dying,” you bite back, “and that’s none of your business.”

“Not the only thing dying, huh?”

The plastic containing your bouquet crinkles as you grip it tighter, Hifumi’s words digging their way until your skin, and you face the door to your apartment rather than giving Hifumi the pleasure of seeing your reaction.

“Right back at you, Hifumi. Right back at you,” you hiss the words through gritted teeth. You fumble with your keys a bit, unable to get away from your neighbor’s annoying presence as quickly as you would like.

“No need to be so harsh, Y/N. I offered to help you out with money. Gave you some options for work, even said I could whisper your name in a few people’s ears. You’re the one who said no. Just remember that when the money gets tighter and tighter. Maybe you’ll learn that wasting those bucks on stupid little flowers won’t do you any good.”

“Your suggestions were vile, Hifumi. I’d rather be a decent human being and earn money in a good way than resort to what you do night by night.” The lock springs open at last, and you swing your door open, more than ready to slam it in Hifumi’s face and end the conversation there. Before it can snap shut, a pale hand lands on the wood, and Hifumi’s face peeks through the crack.

“You call me vile now,” she says with an odd sense of serenity to her tone, “but you’ll find out soon enough that we can’t always do good things for the people we love. If it means saving someone, there is no line between good and evil. Keep that in mind, love.” Her lips quirk upwards in one corner. You can’t stand the sight of her taunting expression anymore and forcefully shut the door, snapping the locks as soon as it closes. You place the bouquet on the kitchen counter and huff. Your backpack slides off your shoulders, relieving your back of the weight and hitting the wood floor with a thud. You make your way to the bedroom with dragging feet. Tattered converse join your backpack on the floor as you kick them off.

“As if I don’t know that I'm wasting money,” you mutter to yourself as you cross the threshold into your bedroom. “Acting like she knows me, the smug bitch.” You tug the blinds over your small bedroom window up to reveal the dead daffodils in a foggy vase. Just under the withering and crumbling petals lies the sight of Taehyung’s shop and the boy in his apron, still chatting with people as they pass him by. You don’t bother changing the water in the vase. Instead, you toss the dead flowers into the waste bin near your desk and place the new violets in the dirty water without thought.

Moving and doing something productive would be a good idea.

But no, you don’t feel like indulging in that kind of life right now. It’s nicer to sit on the floor and stare out the window beside the vase, chin resting on the windowsill. Leaving the flowers on the kitchen counter probably wasn’t the best idea, but it’s not like it will make a difference in the long run. You slide your palm under your chin to offer a bit more comfort. At least you have something to look forward to tonight before the weekend strikes and your time becomes consumed by homework and responsibilities. The only good thing about this weekend is that your parents aren’t coming to town. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to see them, but their arrival is never under good terms and it always heralds the depressing reality that you so desperately try to avoid all the time.

This won’t do, you think and pull yourself to your feet rather than stay wallowing in the windowsill like a fool. Despite your claims about it not mattering, you spend twenty minutes placing the bouquet on the counter in a vase and arranging them as best you can. The dullness from talking with Hifumi is diminishing by now, and the previous excitement and anxiety of having dinner with Taehyung returns with full force. It’s not a date but… You can’t help but to start laughing to yourself as you think about it, tied between the embarrassment and excitement, and you tug your phone out of your back pocket to send a text with the news.

from y/n, 5:47 p.m. unread

- remember the cute boy from the flower shop i told you about?? i’m getting dinner with him tonight!!! i’ll let you know how it goes~

You hold the phone to your chest after sending the message.

“Okay, Y/N, try to get some work done before getting ready for dinner. Don’t think too much about it. This is chill. It’s chill. Chill.” You snatch your backpack off the floor and lug it to your room, tossing it onto your bed while you sit down at your desk. “Chill,” you repeat once more as you stare at the empty desk. Needless to say, you can’t focus much even after you set your psychology book down and try to read it, spending the next thirty minutes staring at the same paragraph while bobbing your leg up and down. Once you shut your book, determined to work on something else to occupy your time, you still sit and stare at the cover of the textbook blankly.

When you finally tug yourself back into reality, the clock reads 6:52, and you realize that you’ve almost run out of time to get ready.

“Shit!” You cuss, pushing your chair back and rushing to your closet. “It’s a chill thing, Y/N. Remember that. You don’t need to dress up or anything, just at least look presentable.” You frown at the selection of clothing before you, suddenly upset with your taste in fashion. Your palm connects with your forehead, and the sound of the slap echoes through the small closet. “Ah, I don’t have time to be worrying about this right now!”

Within the next five minutes, you are tugging knee high socks up your calves and hobbling to the kitchen while trying not to slip on the wood floor. You nearly stumble as you snatch your converse off the floor. When you slide them onto your feet and reach the door, you realize that you’ve left your phone on your bed. A loud groan of frustration escapes your lips. The rush back to your room seems to take forever, and when you finally lock your apartment door behind you, the clock reads 6:59.

"You're heading out late, aren't you?"

"Do you just wait out here to bother me?" Your question is accompanied by a frantic anger, and Hifumi laughs at your response.

“Calm down, Y/N. I’m heading out as well, although for different reasons no doubt.” You take in Hifumi’s outfit — if you can even call it that based upon the lack of material over her body — and bite the inside of your cheek. “Should I drop by and say hello to your flower boy as I go?”

“Please no.” You don’t mean to sound desperate, but you also didn’t mean to be late to meet with Taehyung. Hifumi cackles, tucking a sparkling clip into her dark hair.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N. My offer always stands, by the way. You just need to stop letting your ego get in the way of what really matters.” Her heels click against the floor as she walks away, heading for the elevator rather than the stairs. You should already be on your way down the stairs yourself, but the curiosity bubbling in your gut prevents you from moving an inch without asking the question at the forefront of your mind.

“And what would that be?”

Ding. The metal doors of the elevator slide open, and Hifumi steps inside. Her dress ruffles around her as she spins to face you, a coy smirk stained red by dark lipstick.

“I can’t answer that for you, love.” The smile stretches as the doors close over her face. You blink at the dull metal for a moment, then snap back to reality and start jogging down the stairs. Stupid Hifumi. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why did I even expect her to give me an answer?

The later time provides cold breezes, and that makes you realize that you forgot to grab a jacket on your way out in the rush to not be late. Jokes on you now, because you are both cold and late, leaving the apartment building with arms tucked under your armpits. Just across the street is Taehyung’s shop, one light keeping the stall alight. Taehyung isn’t the only person standing beneath the canopy, however, and you spot a shorter man across from him, back facing you. You hesitate by the road, an odd sense of foreboding striking before your foot touches the asphalt.

The man accompanying Taehyung is shrouded in black. Black hat, black leather jacket, black skinny jeans, black combat boots: he’s worse than you, and that’s saying something because you have way too many black articles of clothing in your closet. Taehyung doesn’t wear his trademark boxy grin either, which is another source of discomfort for you, but you don’t have time to dwell on it. Taehyung starts glancing around, and you can see his lips moving in haste even at this distance. His scanning gaze finds you across the street.

Eyes widen.

Mouth freezes halfway open.

You blink, and Taehyung is shooing his companion away while waving at you. You force a smile in return. Checking for traffic, you jog across the street to join Taehyung on his side of the pavement. Instead of making eye contact with him, however, your gaze finds the man alongside him. Now that you’re closer, you realize that he isn’t nearly as short as he seemed to be from a distance, Taehyung is just tall enough to make him seem short. He also has a black shirt under his leather jacket, adding the already existing obsession with the color. The low cut nature of the tee provides a clear view of his collarbone and a bit of the space below it, but you can’t see much skin behind the spread of black ink across his pale skin in a design you can’t wrap your head around with staring closer. You aren’t going to get any closer, or stare any longer, because tension spikes between the three of you now. Silence is present, Taehyung seems caught, and neither you nor the man across from you have anything to say.

“Y/N! This is a…friend of mine from school! Studies music and yea, uh. He was just leaving.” Taehyung laughs a few dry chuckles then send a pointed glare in his “friend’s” direction. You get the sense that there is more to the story than simply that, but you don’t want to press the topic too much because of how intimidating this guy is. “Leaving,” Taehyung repeats, pushing the man with his left hand. “I didn’t tell him that I was busy tonight, so he thought we were, uh, gonna — you know, hang out or something. Like friends do. Yea, uh, but I said I was busy. So he’s leaving. Now.” You drop your chin, the discomfort rising to new levels.

“Right. Leaving.” The man’s voice is low and raspy, far different from Taehyung’s low tone that is warm and inviting. No, this person’s voice holds a coldness to it that sends a chill down your spine. “The name’s Yoongi, by the way. In case we end up…running into each other again, Miss?” He seems to be asking for your name, but you don’t get the chance to respond. Taehyung steps in front of you instead, cutting off Yoongi’s line of sight to you, and motioning to the street. You glance in the direction his hand points, noticing a motorcycle parked next to the sidewalk that must belong to Yoongi.

“You won’t! I mean, you probably won’t run into each other any time soon ever again, don’t you think? That’d be weird. Say, I’ll see you in class, Yoongi! Or at the library tomorrow night with the other guys, okay?” You squint at Taehyung’s back. He said he’s a business major, didn’t he? And Yoongi studies music? Why would— Your train of thought is cut short when Taehyung snatches your wrist. “Are you ready to go, Y/N? I have the perfect place in mind for us to eat!” Taehyung seems a bit frazzled and frantic, as though he’s in a rush to get away from Yoongi now that you’re here.

“Oh, yea! I’m sorry for being late, by the way!” You let Taehyung tug you down the sidewalk and glance over your shoulder to where Yoongi is climbing onto his motorcycle.

“No worries! It’s not a problem at all. I had an unexpected visit from my friend there anyways, so it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“Yea, your friend…” You look away from Yoongi when he looks up at you from the motorcycle. The trailing off of your words sends Taehyung into a panic.

“We don’t hang out much! I was surprised he came by, because we aren’t the closest of friends. You know? Well, no, you probably don’t — uh, I mean, we all have those friends, right?”

“Of course!” You’re quick to agree, eager to see that precious boxy smile find its way back to Taehyung’s lips in a genuine way rather than the forced manner it is in now. A sigh of relief passes through his lips. “So, where are we going?”

“I hope this isn’t too plain or boring, but there’s this amazing diner down the road that I go to every Friday night. I normally go alone but…you know, since we’re — well, I think we should go there.” You can’t contain the laugh that rips through your lungs, and soon enough Taehyung is laughing along with you. You vaguely conscious of his grip on your wrist that won’t go away, but honestly you have no complaints.

With the levity now hanging in the air between you, Taehyung seems much more at ease and comfortable. The two of you reach the diner within a few minutes, a quaint yet busy place that you recognize all too well.

The red door with the round window on it, white awnings hanging a bit lower than you remember but still bearing the dead leaves and twigs on top of them. You haven’t been here in a long time, before you moved into your apartment down the street and well before you started buying flowers from Taehyung’s small shop.

Taehyung is saying something, but you can’t hear him. It’s as though you are stuck underwater, drowning in an endless dark ocean, and you pull your phone out of your back pocket to open your messages again.

from y/n, 5:47 p.m. unread

Unread. It’s always unread. You sigh under your breath, making sure that Taehyung doesn’t hear the exasperated noise leave your lips.

“Now that wasn’t very fair, was it, Y/N? C’mon, you gotta play fair!”

“I am! I haven’t done anything unfair. You’re the one who is supposed to be good at games, aren’t you?”

The memory stings, cuts too deep, and you wish Taehyung had chosen any place other than this one.

“Now that wasn’t very fair, was it, kid? Why don’t you play fair with me?”

Pressure on your chest, the constriction of your throat, and at some point, you must forget to breathe because the world is starting to swirl around you.

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s shout pulls you out of the water, and you gasp for air. You touch your chest with a shaky hand, fully expecting to find the clothes there soaked, but they’re dry. “Are you okay? Is something wrong? You look really pale. Are you cold? Here, let’s get inside so you can warm up.” Taehyung drags you along while you struggle to catch your breath and find a way to get a grip. “Hi guys!” Taehyung yells as you two step through the red door, and his greeting is returned by a few cheery shouts from the waiters behind the counter. “Is it better in here?”

“Huh?” You respond, eyes darting from the interior of the diner to Taehyung’s face where he bears furrowed brows.

“Is it warmer in here? Are you still cold?” There must be goosebumps across your skin, and that’s why he’s asking. At least, you boil down the reasoning to that.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure, placing a hand on his arm. He grins back at you, seemingly convinced by the small white lie, and leads the way to a booth over in the corner. “Oh, uh, Taehyung?”

“Hmm?”

“Would it be alright if we sat closer to the door?” Taehyung squints, eyes flicking around the diner and from booth to booth.

“This booth back here isn’t next to a window, so the cold won’t hit through the glass. Is that alright?” You relent and press your lips into a thin smile, but when Taehyung sits on the side of the booth that faces the door, another surge of panic hits.

“Y/N, don’t turn around, okay? When I tell you to, slowly crawl under the table. Got it?”

You lower yourself onto the booth, barely placing weight on the cushion as you settle down.

“You seem a bit on edge,” Taehyung comments.

“What? No! I’m fine. Just exhausted from school today.” Taehyung nods along with the excuse, and you cheer to yourself for the successful diversion.

“Speaking of school, you mentioned you’re a third year, right? I’m assuming you go to the main university.” Taehyung drums his fingers against the table, nails creating a soothing rhythm that calms your heart rate a bit. You nod along with the rhythm and affirm Taehyung’s assumptions. He’s about to continue his train of thought when a waitress walks up to the booth.

“Hi, Taehyung! It’s strange seeing you with a friend, or…?” The older lady trails off, sending a wink your way. You flush immediately, certain that your cheeks are now ten shades redder than they were moments ago. Trying not to look at the man across the table, you bring a hand up and cover your face.

“No! Ah, no, no, no! Not — not, no, uh friends! That’s what we are. We’re friends.” The waitress laughs at Taehyung’s fumbled attempts to clarify the situation. “Ugh, you know what, can we just — let’s just forget this happened. Can I get my usual?”

“Of course, of course. I won’t pester you two anymore about that, don’t worry. What can I get for you, dear?” The waitress redirects her attention to you.

“Um, let’s go for a surprise actually. I’ll get whatever he’s having too.”

“Coming right up! Drinks will be out in a few!”

“How do you know that my usual isn’t something disgusting like a bunless cheeseburger with extra mayo?” Taehyung asks once the waitress walks away from the booth. You laugh, settling into the booth a bit more.

“Hm, you don’t seem like the type?”

“Is that a question?”

“Well, I don’t know. From what I can tell, you don’t seem like a heathen who would do something so controversial. I think you’re a bit more traditional and classic.”

“Traditional and classic? Is that a way of calling me old?”

“No!” You can’t contain the smile on your lips any longer, surely looking like a grinning idiot at this point, but Taehyung beams back at you with such warmth in his eyes that you don’t care what you look like. “No, you aren’t old. Gosh, Taehyung. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Someone too good for this world,” he responds without a beat of hesitation, smile faltering a bit as he speaks. “You…you are a person who has seen a lot of terrible and evil things, but you still see the good in the world nonetheless. You want to expect the best from people, and yet you’ve been disappointed so many times that you aren’t sure anymore. That’s why you’re studying linguistics and psychology. So that you can do something good in the future, something with an impact, something meaningful. You’re too good for this world, yea…no doubt about that.”

“Sorry, what?” Your hands are shaking in your lap. How could he…what? How did he figure all that out?

“I’m just assuming things!” Taehyung puts his hands up in defense, leaning against the back of the booth, and releases a huff that sounds like forced laughter. “I guess I said all that because I knew someone very similar. Projecting, that’s all. I’m projecting old thoughts and feelings. I should change the topic, yea? This is getting weird and creepy again. Have I always been so creepy?” Despite the nervousness swirling through your system, you revel in the levity Taehyung’s question brings.

“Yes,” you tease.

“What? I have not!”

“On occasion!”

“What does that mean?”

“Commenting on the flowers in my window qualifies as creepy!”

“Okay, but that was today. What about before today? I haven’t been creepy before now, right?”

“I’ll have to think about it, but I’m sure I can dig something up.”

“Oh, now you’re just playing games with me. That’s not fair, Y/N!”

“Now that wasn’t very fair, was it, Y/N? C’mon, you gotta play fair!”

You aren’t sure who you’re looking at anymore, who sits with you at this booth, what person laughs across the table — whether it be Taehyung, or some buried figment of your memory that digs its way out of the grave you stuck it in so that it can haunt you now — but it feels comfortable. Warms your body, makes you forget about the panic in your bones and the cold outside.

“I haven’t done anything unfair,” you counter. A grin plays at your lips as Taehyung tsks and shakes his head. The waitress returns to your table at that moment, interrupting the tension to deliver your food.

“Alright, you two. I’ve got two cheeseburgers with fries and two chocolate milkshakes. Enjoy, but not too much!” She scurries off before you or Taehyung can say anything about her cheeky comment.

“Traditional and classic enough for you?”

“I expected nothing less from a guy who sells flowers out of a small shop on the side of the road.”

“Wow, rude! I’m so offended, Y/N. My heart is hurt. I don’t know if I can recover after this. Maybe I’ll have to drop out of school and quit my business. This is too much.” Taehyung holds his hands over his heart, faking being struck by your words.

“Why did you set up the shop there anyways? It seems like a random spot, especially since there are lots of other places good for shops like yours.” You nibble on a fry after you ask the question, genuinely curious as to why Taehyung chose the spot he did. Not that you’re complaining because look where you are now haha.

“Oh, I live nearby so it seemed like the only logical option for me.” You tilt your head to the side. Are there other apartments nearby? I looked all over when I bought mine, but I don’t remember seeing any others.

“If you don’t mind me asking…where do you live?”

“Look who’s being creepy now,” Taehyung teases. He flicks the toothpick on top of his burger at you, and you shield yourself with a fry.

“At least I’m asking! You just started talking about where I live with no context.”

“Okay, okay. I relent. You may be right, but you’re gonna kill me when I tell you.”

“Why?”

“I live in the same building as you.”

“You—what?” You nearly choke on the fry now lodged in your throat as Taehyung reveals the bombshell information. He scratches the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I thought you would figure out sooner because we’ve nearly run into each other multiple times. Also, I spilled a bunch of dirt on the stairs once when trying to re-pot some plants, and I definitely heard you complaining about it a few minutes later.”

“Wait, that was you?”

“Yea, I’m sorry about that by the way. I tried to clean it up with a rag, but then I realized that dirt plus water equals mud. So yea, that’s why there’s a dry patch of mud on the stairs.”

“Wait, that’s on the third floor set of stairs…” You think aloud, trying to put two and two together. Oh god. “Do you live on the third floor?”

“Hi neighbor?”

“Neighbor?” You do a double take, and your elbow connects with the edge of the table a bit roughly because a searing pain shoots up your arm as it hits.

“Surprise?”

You doing your best to think about who lives on your floor, the people who live on your left and your right, but to be honest, you don’t run into many people at the building. The only person you’ve come into contact with is Hifumi, and it’s always been unwilling encounters. You have no clue who you live next to.

“Wait, please tell me you don’t live in the apartment to the left of mine.” You press your thumbs against your temples in attempts to alleviate the pressure building there. Taehyung’s sheepish smile gives you the answer you don’t want. “I’m so sorry.” How many times have you slammed your fist against the thin wall because there’s been an ungodly amount of noise at an ungodly hour in the night? Or loudly cussed him out because of said noise?

You really don’t want to think about the one time you brought a one night stand home just so that you could be as loud as possible to get revenge on your neighbor for the noise.

Yea, no.

That would be a nightmare.

“I mean, I should be the one apologizing because I make a lot of noise some nights.”

“It’s fine!”

“Your response to it tells me that it really isn’t, but—”

“No, ha, no, it’s okay!”

“Although, you’ve been loud too on a few occasions. There was one night where I almost went to knock on your door because—”

“God, please, Taehyung! Let’s not talk about that. That was…a low point in my life, okay?”

This is a nightmare.

“This is not how I imagined meeting my neighbor.” Taehyung laughs at the exasperated expression on your face.

“What were you expecting?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something stupid like “oh hey neighbor, I ran out of sugar for the cookies I’m making, got any extra?”. I can’t believe this.”

“Is that how you invited that guy over?” He’s snickering behind his hand, trying not to show how amused by the situation he is, but you are melting under the embarrassment. “He seemed to have a lot of sugar to give.” You slump further down in the booth and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Please, Taehyung, can we please drop it? I was — it didn’t mean anything.” Behind you, the door dings, signaling either the entrance or exit of a customer. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments as though it’ll make the embarrassing situation fade. When you open your eyes, Taehyung is no longer looking at you. He isn’t smiling or laughing either. No, he’s staring at something behind you, something off in the distance. Eyes wide, and in his dark brown irises you see a reflection that feels all too familiar.

“Y/N, don’t move. Listen carefully, okay?” His voice has dropped an octave, if that’s even possible, and you can barely hear him through the sound of your heart beating in your ears. “Don’t turn around. Don’t do anything unless I tell you to. I need you to trust me, okay? I am going to pass you my phone. The code is 4488. You are going to pull up the messages — try not to look at any of the conversations. Type in Yoongi’s name and send him this message: I’m working on homework at the diner, wanna come hang out. Okay? Tap your index finger against the table twice if you can do that for me.”

There are far too many thoughts running through your mind right now, and all of them relay memories that you never want to revisit. You can barely process Taehyung’s words. Nothing he’s saying is making much sense. People are yelling behind you, but their words bleed together into an incoherent mess. Still you manage to do as Taehyung says and tap your finger against the table twice. He slides his phone over to you and pushes his way out of the booth. You want to stop him, to grab his wrist and tell him to sit back down, because dammit. Dammit this can’t be happening now. Of all times, why now?

“W-Wait, Tae—”

“Trust me, Y/N. When you send the message, crawl under the table and keep your back against the wall as best you can. This will be over soon, I promise.”

“I-I can’t, I, Tae—” You can’t finish your train of thought, so you instead fumble with Taehyung’s phone. You can barely type the code in, and typing Yoongi’s name is another mess of its own, because you accidentally catch a glimpse of one of Taehyung’s messages.

They asked for 16 kilos to bank.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cuss to yourself, feeling pinpricks in the corners of your eyes.

from taehyung, 8:02 p.m. unread

- i’m working on hw at the diner, wanna come hang out?

A tear hits your cheek as soon as you send the message. You don’t glance behind you to see what Taehyung is doing now, the yelling continues, and you slide under the table while cradling the phone to your chest. It buzzes, vibrating against your skin.

read

That’s all.

No response, just a small notification saying “read”.

You dig your own phone out of your pocket, hastily typing a message of your own and sending it without double checking. You wouldn’t be able to see the words anyways because of the blur of tears. The shouting is intensifying, growing louder and louder, and you can hear a series of clicks resounding alongside the yells. Another buzz, and you glance at Taehyung’s screen only to find it dark. No, the buzz came from your phone instead. You want to throw up. The fry still stuck in your throat is giving you lots of good reasons to force it to come up.

from y/n, 8:06 p.m. read

- i wish we’d never gone to the diner that night, i wish it never happened, i wish we never met so that i didn’t have to go through any of this. i wish you were here rn because it’s like a sick repeat of what happened that night and i’m so scared to lose another person the way i lost you. please please please don’t let this happen again. i can’t take it again

The fry does end up on the floor, along with the other contents of your stomach. It comes out with a quiet heave mixed with your silent sobs.

read

...

written by: jungtaeyoongles

a/n - WHOOPS that’s a cliffhanger so uhhhhhh new series i guess??? why do i do this to myself ;-;

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

430 notes · View notes

jojomugi · 5 years ago

Note

Hello, again! This is the same anon who said thanks (I’m a little embarrassed to ask for something similar but, I really did love the last scenario). May I please have a scenario with SDC Dio nsfw/sfw w/ the same fem s/o who absolutely adores Halloween? Thank you so much! I truly appreciate it ❤️

Awh yes! I love Halloween themes! 🎃👻

Hope you didn’t mind but I decided to change it up a bit and make it a bit...AU-y(?) lol. I’ll describe it at the bottom :). I apologize for the wait and how short is it compared to the last one. Hopefully it was worth it and I hope you enjoy this piece because I certainly enjoyed writing this!

[Request:Open]

✨AU: Basically everything is the same except Dio is less focused on ruining the Joestars and more focused on his future plans (and Halloween)

✨Word Count: 1779

✨SFW?: Yes

SDC Dio x Reader (Halloween theme)

“Only 30 more days!” You proclaimed to yourself as you wrote in a little journal upon your bed. The gel tipped pen with the elegant white feather glided across the pages as you began making a list of what to do for your favorite holiday, Halloween. Of course, you had not yet had the chance to discuss your ideas and plans with your head of the household, DIO, so you had not yet gotten executive approval from your dearest. However, you kept your fingers crossed that you would be able to possibly sway him into allowing you to at least decorate.

Though you have called this place home as Lord DIO has done nothing but provided for you here, in all honesty, the majority of the work was already done for you. The mansion itself already had a decrypted aura surrounding it. It was dank, dark, and was littered with cobwebs of many varieties. Though Lord Dio had never struck you as the type of man to be invested in holidays, you hoped he would not mind a few pumpkins and spooky ghost decorations scattered about. Actually, you couldn’t help but dorkishly grin at the ideas you had come up with to decorate the halls and rooms of the manor.

They frilly feather twirled between your fingertips as you continued to ponder and daydream on what else you’d do for Halloween if given the opportunity to celebrate. Though this was suddenly interrupted by a small yet strong gust of wind had blown through your window. A silhouette of a majestic falcon framed your windowsill, and it was none other than your favorite bird, Pet Shop. It sat there for a moment, before quickly darting to the floor to devour the rat that had gone unnoticed in the far corner of your bedroom. You jumped back at first, after all, he was a very fierce creature, however, you finally loosened up when he flew back over to your windowsill and perched himself proudly.

You shut the journal and got up from where you had resided, and made your way over to him. With a smile, you approached the falcon and gave him a single stroke on the head. “Thank you Pet Shop, you’re such a marvelous creature!” You softly praised.

Though you were not his master, the bird spread his wings and let out a sound that you could only assume was a ‘thank you’. A soft giggle escaped your lips, as you were completely tickled over how smart he was to actually understand you. “Perhaps for Halloween Lord Dio can let you be...A headless horseman! If they make dog and cat costumes, surely they make them for birds too.” You proposed. The bird merely lifted its head away from you and shut his striking eyes. You frowned a bit at his response, but let out a small smile quickly. “Or maybe instead of being a guard-bird you can look like a pharaoh bird?”

Pet shop turned his head back to you with an approving gaze, however, just as quickly as he came to visit you, he quickly flew off to return to his guard-bird duties when the creek of a door filled the room. Your h/l hair flipped as you turned, knowing already who your next visitor was, none other than DIO. Your e/c eyes lit up with excitement, not only did you enjoy each other’s company, you also could sense he was in a good mood, possibly a good enough mood to even inquire about your idea of the upcoming spooky holiday that was approaching.

“Good evening y/n. Say, who were you talking to?” His words were a harmony in your ears, even in the way he teasingly asked you about your conversation with your animal visitor.

“Lord Dio! Welcome! I just got done with a visit from Pet Shop, he disposed of a rat in the room.” You smiled warmly, placing your hands together in front of your chest. “How has your evening been?”

DIO’s lips had turned up into a very calm smile as he approached you. “Oh? Yes, Pet Shop is a fine bird isn’t he?” DIO nodded before continuing. “So far it has been excellent, I thought that I would share it with only my most favorite human.” He explained as he finally made his way to you. He extended a hand and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. His honey-like eyes that had been fixated on you caught a glimpse of the bright full moon that was framed by your window. “Oh? And it's a full moon? How romantic. Just another thing for us to share tonight.” The large blonde had noted as he took his place beside where you stood. Now, both of you were admiring the view of Cairo and the bold night from your window.

“I know right, tonight is just wonderful isn’t it?” You nodded, leaning against the windowsill. A strong sculpted yet protective arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled you close to his body. He obviously couldn’t allow his sweet angel of a pet plummet on accident, even though you were quite confident you wouldn’t as you had done this many times before. You turned up to his with a smile. “Oh, Lord Dio! Did you know on the 31st, there will also be a full moon.” You quickly spilled the piece of trivia.

Dio rose a boldly arched brown at the oddly specific information you gave him, however, he took it merely as a sign of your intellect and patted your head in response. “Well, that's very fascinating my little y/n. Is there anything else I should know?”

Your face quickly went red from embarrassment. You had wanted to bring up wanting to celebrate Halloween in a different more casual way, but instead, sabotaged what you had mentally planned. However, lying to DIO was never an option for you, you’d never want to break his trust in you and your loyalty for someone you lovingly adored.

“Well, y/n?” He tilted his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue upon his request.

“Well...the 31st is also the night of Halloween.” A gulp slid down your throat before you had finally decided to expand onto your information. “Lord Dio, you uh, don’t have to answer if you d-don’t want to, But...do you...do you celebrate any holidays?” You stammered your question, and lightly shook your head at how embarrassingly nervous you got over a simple inquiry. What a silly thing to get all riled up over.

However, for the other party, this was a deep question for him. DIO went silent for a moment as he thought about the last time he had even celebrated a holiday. Suddenly a wave of blurred memories resurrected; The last holiday he spent was New Years with George and Jonathan Joestar. Sure, he was slightly invested in them once upon a time ago when he was still a human, but that was a century ago, and he was a significantly different person in those days. He shut his eyes and thought hard about the answer. “I suppose so. Though last time I had ever recognized a holiday was a century ago. These days I just do not have the time to manage, invest, and dedicate my important time to just another day on the calendar.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly you felt your heart sink in discouragement over this development. He had a point, you couldn’t help but agree that his time was valuable, his points were unarguable. You let out a small frown and shifted your eyes back towards the streets, letting your disappointment out towards the world instead of letting him see. However, the silent sadness you felt was interrupted alas by his voice.

“Why are you, curious darling?”

You blinked, and slowly glanced back up at him. You felt no need to change what was undeniable, you had assured yourself that he would not be up for Halloween. No more need for beating around the bush, you just bluntly spoke. “Well, I was going to ask if you’d allow me to decorate the home for Halloween.” You sighed admittingly, while limply hanging your arm off of the windowsill. You couldn’t help but give him a smile, even if it was a sad one. “I really wanted to make everyone costumes, bake those cute little ghosts and pumpkin cookies, hand out candy to all your servants, of course, only the ones you say are worthy, and watch scary movies.” You could go on and on about all your favorite Halloween traditions, however, you felt for sure that he probably didn’t care to hear more.

DIO went back to silence, and so did you. You both just quietly looked up into the entrancing moon. Though the celebration of Halloween was much different from his era compared to how it is recognized in the 20th century, another distant memory resurfaced, and a fond one at that. A time when his mother was still alive and he was a young boy, and how they’d huddle close together next to the fire she’d share spooky stories with him before Dario would drunkenly return home for the night. When he thought about it, DIO was actually somewhat touched over how desperately you wanted to share your traditions with him.

With a short “hm.”, an unconscious smile formed from his lips.

“Well...I suppose if you do all of the preparation, it would not hurt to celebrate it if it's only for one night.”

Those were words you hadn’t expected to hear. Your eyes lit up like a spark in the night. “R-Really?” You gasped and before Dio would even be able to confirm, you already leaped into him for an embrace. You were over the moon. “Oh! Lord Dio! Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re honestly too good to me!” You squealed out of sheer happiness.

DIO held onto your waist and gently put you down on your feet with a slight smirk. “Y/n, if you make this Halloween successful, perhaps you can not only be my pet but my holiday planner as well.” He stated while softly patting your head.

“Oh, I surely won’t let you down, Lord Dio!” She chirped with a bright smile.

“Well then, my dearest y/n, I will be holding you to it.” He leaned in and left a kiss on your forehead.

You shut your eyes when he leaned in to plant his loving mark on you and in turn, your cheeks flushed pink. You were going to make his Halloween memorable for sure!

#Dio Brando #dio x reader #jjba x reader #jjba #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo’s bizarre adventure #//⋆asking m ⋆//

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