#and they do the same cute circling around thing with each other when they first meet as adults too! and i’m a full blown wreck

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Meander through the Mountain Mists

Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh I love mer!König and mer!reader so much. You guys are so so cute together. I am rooting for you this entire time. Also, enjoy treasure hunting! Not much, but a little bit of fun. I hope you guys like this next part of the mermaid fic!

Tws: Fluff

Wordcount: 3.2K

Art from This Post

Rest of the Story Below the Cut

Meander through the Mountain Mists

The first stage hadn’t gone as expected, but the results were clear enough to make you proud of yourself.

You were no longer restricted to the clam shell. Instead, each night you’d twine with König and settle in the den by his side. Sometimes he’d pull you close in his sleep and you could pretend that he was pulling for a mate. It made you smile to think that maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of you as he did it.

The touches and tugs didn’t stop in the den though. They exceeded those bounds through König grabbing your hands and entwining his lower arms with yours. Sometimes he’d let you play with his webbed fingers and tap at his claws. Other times he would wrestle you to the floor of the nest and crow in triumph when you inevitably tapped out.

König had never been so insistent on being so close before. You didn’t want him to stop. His fingers wandered and you guided them along the curve of your spine when you swam together. Sometimes he would get exasperated by how slow you swam and would pull you to his chest and jet forth. No matter how much you complained he would only laugh and tell you to get stronger.

Getting you stronger seemed to be at the forefront of König’s mind. He was determined to make sure you could survive in the depths on your own. Sometimes that meant teaching you ways to snag prey from below, sometimes it meant sparring with him around the rocks of your nest. It always meant sharing spaces together afterwards as he evaluated your progress.

Lately, you’d taken to sitting in König’s lap as he talked you through your rights and wrongs. He didn’t mention that you kept making mistakes on purpose. Both of you knew you were better, but neither of you seemed to care. It was just nice to be held close, cherished like a rare pearl.

Pearls had been on your mind for a while. When merfolk courted each other, it was in a set pattern. The next part of your pattern was giving König a treasure. Unfortunately, you knew few places at these depths where treasure could be found. Instead, you were left combing the sand when König went to sleep to try and see if you could come across anything. Unfortunately, all you’d found so far consisted of three rib bones, a part of a crab’s shell and a particularly smooth rock. Nothing of value.

These objects might have sufficed for some, but you wanted better for König. You needed better. If your plan was to go off without a hitch then you needed to go above and beyond in all ways possible. It was critical to your success that König was floored by your efforts.

The only problem with searching for treasures was that it often led to rather uncomfortable situations, such as the one you faced that day.

You looked up the long belly of the shark mer until you met eyes (or as close as you could through shades) with a familiar face.

“Little octo?” Kim tilted his head to the side, “what are you doing out here?”

You puffed up as big as you could and said, “I could say the same thing!”

“We’re guarding territory,” Kim drawled, “weren’t you there with König?”

“She was,” Nikto lurked behind Kim ominously, “she looked very tasty.”

Kiim smacked him, “She’s not food.”

“Why not?”

“Because König would kill us,” Kim snapped and turned back to you, “sorry.”

You glanced between them both quietly.

“Anyways, you didn’t answer our question: What are you doing here?”

You shivered as Kim slowly circled you.

“I’m just looking for things,” you tried to say without stammering, “why do you care?”

“Because I wanna know what you’re doing out here without König,” Kim snapped back and curled to be eye-level with you, “what are you looking for?”

You shrunk back until you hit something solid. Up above, Nikto stared at you from behind a black mask. He looked hungrier than the last time you saw him.

“Not for much,” you backed away from Nikto until you could see both the mer properly, “I just wanted some things.”

Kim exchanged a tired look with Nikto and then, with a flick of his tail, he was looming above you and pulling his mask down to bear his teeth in a wide grin.

“You’re not trying to take advantage of König, are you?”

All the fear you held for these apex predators was quickly packed into a box and shoved into the back of your mind.

“Excuse me?” you squawked, “taking advantage!? I’d never do that!”

“Really?” Nikto tilted his head curiously, “I couldn’t tell. It looked like a good deal for you.”

“A really good deal,” Kim added as he crossed his arms.

Thinking about it, they had a point. You were getting the free pass of a lifetime by sharing König’s nest. Free food, free shelter, even good company if you factored that part in. All in all, too good of a deal to be true.

“Okay,” you held up your hands, “I see what you’re saying, I really do, but trust me when I say this is more than that. I’m actually looking to give something back.”

“Something back?” Kim perked up, “what do you mean?”

“I’m looking for something to give him,” you shrugged, “like a pearl or a nice stone. I’m looking for something nice for him.”

Kim huddled by Nikto’s side and whispered something into his ear. Nikto looked confused, then leaned in again to hear more. When they were done, both the shark mer looked infinitely more welcoming than before.

“You’re looking for a courting gift,” Kim’s eyebrows rose above his eye coverings.

“Yeah,” you sighed in relief, “exactly. I’m not trying to do anything weird.”

“It’s weird you’d want König as a mate,” Nikto muttered before being elbowed by Kim.

He gave you an apologetic look, “Sorry, we’re just not used to König getting any attention. Not good attention anyways,” he swam around you playfully, “so you’re looking for treasure!”

“You won’t get much down here,” Nikto said sadly, “not any nice things. Not surface things.”

“Why would you think I’d want surface things?” you asked.

Kim pointed at the bag on your hip, “I know surface craftsmanship anywhere.”

The bag hung heavy on your shoulder.

“I’ve been to the surface a couple of times,” you admitted, “spent most of my life there actually.”

“Then why are you in the deeps?” Kim asked, “it’s so much nicer up there.”

“It would be if I wasn’t chased out of my old nest,” you sighed.

Kim nodded as he put the pieces together. He gestured for Nikto to come over and turned back to you to say, “Look, if you want to get back to the surface, we can take you there.”

“You can?” you blinked stupidly.

“Of course!” Kim brandished his striped tail, “I’m a surface dweller too. Or, well, would’ve been, but that’s a long story. Point is, we can get you there and back before the sun comes up.”

“Really?” you grinned, “you guys could actually do that?”

“Of course,” Nikto nodded stoically, “if you want, we could even show you a nice place. It’s Hutch’s old den.”

“It’s really cool,” Kim added, “I’m sure Hutch would be fine with you taking a couple of things.”

That immediately doused the fire in your chest.

“Take things from somebody’s den?” you shook your head firmly, “no, I can’t do that. I don’t want to do anything that might piss anybody off.”

Kim nudged Nikto, “She’s perfect for König,” he turned back to you, “Hutch won’t care. He’s found a better place anyways.”

“But what if he found out?” you worried.

Kim was about to say something when Nikto held up a hand and drifted to hover in front of you.

“You’re worried about getting Hutch’s permission, right?” he asked.

You nodded nervously.

“Then why don’t we go see Hutch?” Nikto offered and looked to Kim for confirmation, “it would give us something to do.”

Kim hummed and tapped his finger on his chin quietly.

You watched the two mer think carefully over the suggestion. They seemed to be silently saying things to each other, evaluating the options and considering the risks. Eventually Kim nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed, “let’s go talk to Hutch.”

Hutch looked positively pissed when you roused him from his sleep. He quietly unfurled his arms to splay over the entrance of his nest, a lovely outlook over a deep sea canyon, and glared at the three of you. He glanced at Kim, then Nikto, then finally his eyes landed on you.

“You’re still here,” he stated flatly.

You shrugged.

“She’s not just still alive,” Nikto pointed out, “she’s looking for courting treasures!”

“For König?”

Kim nodded quickly, “She needs help finding some good ones to bring back to him.”

“Why don’t you take her somewhere else? What do you expect to get out of me here?” Hutch drawled and straightened his spine.

“Permission,” Kim offered.

“And advice,” Nikto added.

“Advice?” Hutch laughed, “what sort of advice are you looking for?”

“I dunno,” Kim shrugged, “I was thinking maybe you might know some weird mollusc mer things?”

“Mollusc is a slur,” Hutch grumbled.

“You call me shark fin soup.”

“And it’s funny.”

“It’s not,” Kim scowled, “whatever. We’re just wanting to see if you have any ideas for little octo.”

“Little octo?” Hutch peered over his dark eye coverings.

“They keep calling me that,” you explained.

He nodded slowly and slowly relaxed into the rock work. He seemed to think for a moment, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms and humming quietly to himself. He nodded side to side as he considered a thought carefully, then nodded finally.

“If you want to get on König’s good side, you should get some pearls,” Hutch concluded, “he loves them. That or metal. If you can find some metal, he’d go crazy for it.”

You nudged Kim softly, “We can go to the surface to find those things.”

Hutch continued, “There’s an old shipwreck by a coral reef not far from here. It used to be my old den, but I moved down here ages ago. Anything left there’s yours.”

“We told you he’d be fine,” Nikto grumbled as Kim laughed beside you.

Hutch immediately snapped to attention, “You offered to take her there before you talked to me?”

Kim nodded slowly.

“We thought you’d be fine with it,” Nikto said quietly.

“I’m…” Hutch shook his head and rubbed his temples, “it’s fine, but you should ask-”

“We did ask.”

“Before you make assumptions like that,” Hutch finished. He sighed and met your eyes, “I’m guessing you’re the reason they came and asked.”

You nodded silently.

He sighed, “I’m glad one of you has a brain.”

“I won’t take too much,” you said quickly, “I promise.”

Hutch shook his head and slunk back into his den as he said, “I don’t care. Just go.”

You were left looking into the dark space Hutch left behind.

Kim nudged your arm lightly. You looked up to see Nikto already swimming upwards.

“C’mon,” he said, and you followed behind him quickly.

“Fuck it’s bright.”

“It’s fine, Nikto,” Kim drawled, “now come on. We’ve got a couple of hours before the sun sets.”

“Is that why it’s so bright?”

“It’s always bright during the day,” you replied, “we’re actually getting less light than usual. Normally it’s a lot more intense.”

“And it’s so hot,” Nikto complained as you swam towards the reef, “how do you guys stand it?”

“How do you stand the cold?” Kim shot back, “now shut up and get moving. We need to hurry here.”

“Why?” you asked, “you seem like you’re really worried.”

“Of course he is,” Nikto smacked his tail against Kim’s side.

“I’m not worried about anything,” Kim retorted, “I just want to get in and out as fast as we can. I don’t like being up here a lot.”

“But aren’t you a surface species?” you questioned.

Kim snorted, “Not anymore.”

You were about to say more when Nikto pointed out a blue shadow in the far distance.

“It’s just up there!” he immediately surged ahead, forcing you and Kim to work overtime to catch up.

When you managed to get by his side, you finally got to admire the wreck in all its decrepit glory. The wood creaked with the currents as schools of colourful fish flitted between the railings. A hole had been smashed into the side, probably where the human’s house had crashed into the side of the reef. The skeletons of dead corals lay scattered about with careless abandon. 

“This was Hutch’s den?” you asked as you slowly crept forward.

“It was,” Kim pushed you into the hole, “now go!”

You tumbled down into the dark with a squeak.

When you gathered your bearings, you were able to figure out roughly where you were. Wood walls surrounded you on all sides, save for the spot Kim had shoved you through. The holes punctured in the sides of the house let in a shaft of light that speared through the waters. Something seemed terribly wrong about this place. It felt… Haunted.

“I don’t hear you looking for treasure!” Kim called from outside.

“On it,” you called back and ducked down to the sand.

As your eyes adjusted to the low light, you started to see various things begin to form in the dark. Tall statues of humans holding up strange bowls with stems on them. There were other odd objects, like bizarre four-legged animals and what you could only barely think looked like birds. Did the humans like these sorts of things?

Gold, silver, copper and brass shone before your very eyes. And yet, none of it seemed good enough.

“How’s it going?” you heard Kim again.

“I’m just looking around,” you replied.

There was a glimmer at the corner of your eye. You turned and began to swim towards it. You had to dig your hand through a pile of tiny metal disks, but soon your hands hit something. Wrapping your fingers around it, you wrenched it free of the pile to admire it. As soon as you did, your eyes lit up.

It looked like a bracelet that humans sometimes made. Bright red jewels shaped like perfect pearls were strung together on a chain. It was far too large for you, but you had no doubt it would be perfect for König.

“Got something!” you wormed your way out of the hole you’d been pushed through.

Nikto and Kim helped pull you out and examined your prize.

Kim in particular seemed to be taken aback.

“That’s beautiful,” he murmured as he looked down at your hands.

Nikto glanced around before grabbing your hands and curling them around the bracelet.

“Put that in your bag,” he said in a hushed tone, “you don’t want anyone taking that from you.”

Kim nodded quickly.

Without another word, you slipped it into your bag and patted it shut.

“I think he’ll like it,” you said, “it looks like the red of his skin.”

“It’ll blend into the dark perfectly,” Kim agreed. He looked around briefly. “We should go now,” he muttered, “I don’t like being up here anymore.”

And with that, your trio retreated into the gloom.

—

“König?”

“Ah, there you are!”

Your vision was taken up by König swimming up in front of you and spanning his arms out. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at you.

“Where were you?” he asked sternly, “not hunting again, I hope?”

“Well…” you tried to wiggle past him to get into the nest but were blocked by his tentacles.

“What do you mean?” König leaned in close to your face, “didn’t we just talk about this?”

You gingerly pushed a tentacle away and said, “Yes, but I think you’ll like this.”

“So you brought something back,” König snorted as he let you swim by.

You went into the nest and curled around in the main room. You patted the floor beside you and smiled.

“I don’t like this,” König muttered darkly, but he obliged and sat by your side. Wordlessly he drew you into his lap and tucked his chin over your shoulder.

“I think you’ll like it,” you pulled your bag into your lap and opened it.

König hummed as you dug through your pouch.

“What’s this?” König’s eyes widened slightly as you pulled the bracelet out for him.

“It’s a bracelet,” you said. You rolled the round gems with your finger, then took his hand and pooled it into his palm, “For you.”

König brought the bracelet up to his eyes for a better look. The blue lights sparkled across the surface of the stones as his eyes lit up.

“This is…” König blinked and let it roll into his other hand, “this is incredible. Where did you find this?”

“By the surface,” you smiled.

“The surface?” he hummed, “you’re a little adventurer, aren’t you?”

He ruffled your hair fondly in the soft lighting.

“Do you want to store it somewhere?” you asked, “I think I saw some empty shelves in our den.”

König shook his head, “No, this is too precious for that. I’m keeping this with me.”

He undid the clasp and tucked the bracelet around his wrist. It was a snug fit, but he managed to get it firmly in place. Again he rose his wrist up to admire it properly.

König looked down at you reverently.

“Thank you.”

You felt your cheeks flush and turned away, “It’s nothing. I just thought… It’s nice.”

König clutched his wrist to his chest, then slung his arms around you and hugged you close, enveloping you in his warmth. You turned yourself to press your face into his chest and hugged back as tightly as you could. His body tensed, then relaxed and brought you in until there wasn’t an inch of space between either of you.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“It’s perfect.”

He rubbed your back and muttered something under his breath, then pulled back to brush your hair from your face.

“You’re too good for me.”

“I don’t think so,” you let your hand run down his chest, “I think you’re the one who’s too good for me.”

“Strange,” König sighed, “before you came along I never thought I’d have company.”

“Really?” you frowned, “I thought everyone would’ve wanted to have you as a mate.”

“Hah!” König shook his head wistfully, “if only! I’ve never had a good mating season. Not once.”

For a moment, you both sat there quietly, absorbing the warmth from one another. His heartbeats under your ear, a steady and comforting rhythm in threes. Your eyelids began to droop as you slumped into his body.

“Are you tired after all that?” he asked gently.

You nodded blearily.

“Then let’s get you to the den,” he said and picked you up.

He put you down in a bed of soft algae and pet your head again. You felt yourself slowly drifting away when you felt something hot press against your forehead. As soon as it was there, it left and you opened your eyes to see König pulling his mask down over his jaw as he backed away from you.

“Have a good sleep, little octo.”

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universe

Mermaid AU

[kylespence]

you know something that is really adorable at the end of anastasia 1997 is when dimitri and her were on the boat clearly finishing off their adorable “goofy” waltz dance they did prior in the middle of the movie. throughout that time, they both slowly fall out of the dance, and dimitri’s arm goes to grabs her waist, while they both just walk circles around each other, smiling so adorably into each others eyes. at that point, anya kisses him and it’s beautiful. however, it’s the part where dimitri picks her up bridal style, spinning her around, she lets out a laugh is where i’m weak. the romance in this movie is top tier. an iconic 90s animated romcom.

[aquarius-johnny]

“tats & tulips” | johnny suh

𝜗𝜚 genre: fluff, soft smut/suggestive | wc: 7k | au: strangers to lovers 𝜗𝜚 pairing: tattoo artist! johnny x afab florist! reader 𝜗𝜚 warnings: mutual masturbation (like quick mention), other names included for writing purposes, other members mentioned (yuta), full sleeve tatted johnny, he’s also shy and slightly awkward and artistic 𝜗𝜚 summary: a love story between an ‘intimidating’ tattoo artist and the ‘preppy’ florist who just so happens to have their shops next to each other. 𝜗𝜚 aimee's thoughts 💭 : i’m fully aware of johnny having tattoos, but i imagine him to be fully tattooed in this fic. requested by @lovesuhng 𐙚

check out my other work here! → m.list navi

When your family business got passed down to you to run, a part of you couldn’t be happier. Sure, you ventured off to do other things in the time being, but to come back and be part of the floral shop your late grandmother graciously raised you in, it truly felt like your life had come full circle. 

Adjusting the vases to your liking, your employee, Hana, makes her way to the display window — something you notice she does at the same time, every day. “Looking for someone?” You playfully tease as you make your way to her, scanning the outside of your shop. 

“You haven’t met the tattooists next door, have you?” She smirks. 

“No, I have not. Why?” You look at her suspiciously.

She smiles. “There’s this specific artist. I see him every morning and it brightens my day even when he’s quite the opposite,” she jokingly retorts. “He’s intimidating, like really intimidating. He’s tall, tattoos all over his arms from what I can see, definitely seems like the brooding bad boy type of guy, rarely seen him smile, but he’s oh so cute.”

“Ah, so we have a brewing crush don’t we?” You giggle, before gently pulling her away from the window to which she gladly follows you.

“Not a crush,” she shakes her head. “He’s more like eye candy. I don’t see myself dating someone so brooding like him. But seeing him made coming to work a little easier…before you came, obviously.” She nudges your arm. 

“And yet, you’re still searching for him?” You chuckle as you watch Hana’s cheeks blush in embarrassment. 

“Force of habit.” She giggles. “You’re single, right? He seems to be around your age.” Hana smirks.

“Alright that’s enough from you. Go and get ready for opening,” you playfully scold with a gentle tap to her arm.

Hana scurries off to the back room while you set out more pottery displays near the front entrance. As you stand near the display window, you feel the warmth of the sun shine through before disappearing behind a temporary cloud. 

You see a car drive into an empty parking spot across the street. A tall man, dressed in head to toe black clothing, steps out of the driver’s seat. He throws a backpack over a shoulder and pushes the sleeves of his black cardigan up to his elbows, exposing his heavily tattooed forearms. When he makes it to the edge of the sidewalk, you both make eye contact with each other before he turns his attention away — eyes refocusing on the tattoo shop he was entering.

Hana meets you by the window and lets out a disappointed groan. “Dammit, I missed him.” She pouts. “Did you see him?”

You nod, clearing your throat. “Yeah. I can definitely see what you mean when you say seeing him makes your day.” 

Hana stifles her laughter. “Come on,” she nudges you. “It’s time to open.”

The first few weeks of business went extremely well as the profits slowly made up for the loss from previous management. 

As you and Hana, along with another new employee you hired named Wren, get ready for the day, you allow Hana to take the new employee under her wing for training while you water the white tulips in its planter outside the display window. Wren and Hana join you, finishing everything needed inside. 

“There he is,” Hana harshly whispers, pulling Wren’s arm. You turn in the direction she’s looking in to find the mysterious tattooed man emerging out of his car. “He opens today and tomorrow.” She giddily remarks.

“I see she’s told you about her little dose of serotonin every morning, huh?” You look at Wren who giggles. 

“She kept telling me I needed to see how attractive he is,” Wren rolls her eyes. 

You turn your back towards the tattoo shop, reaching over to water the flowers behind the two younger girls. 

“What do you think?” Hana whispers, careful not to let him hear or notice they were talking about him. 

“He looks scary,” Wren replies. “Like he looks like he’d break your heart if you gave him a chance. But he is attractive for sure. I can see why you look forward to seeing him.” 

“Not your type?” Hana asks Wren, who glances over towards the direction of the tattoo shop where the tall man is near the  front entrance. 

“Not my type,” Wren replies. “But it seems like our boss might be his.” She whispers quickly before turning around as Hana looks at him.

You’re too busy and preoccupied to notice how the mystery tattoo artist fiddles with his keys a little longer than usual. He quickly steals glances at your attire, eyes wandering up and down your body before he notices your hair is done up into a new hairstyle. When he finally opens up the front door to the tattoo shop, he shuts it behind him before letting out a small sigh. 

When you’re done watering your pride and joy, Hana begins to tap you on your shoulder. You look at her to see a wide smile on her face.

“He was totally checking you out.” Hana gushes. 

“You’re just seeing things,” you rationalize, heading back into your shop to put away the watering can. Both Wren and Hana follow closely behind you.

“Oh come on! Whenever he goes for lunch, he always passes by and I see him try to hide the fact he’s looking in.”

You open your mouth to defend him, but she shushes you.

“He’s never done that before. The past five years I’ve been here, he’s never been this interested in the shop but he suddenly is when he sees who our new boss is?” Hana reports. “Can’t be a coincidence.”

Wren nods her head, approving of Hana’s observations before giggling.

“Maybe he’s surprised with how much the shop has changed?” You move from behind the counter where Hana moves toward you. She opens her mouth to say something before you stop her. “Anyway, it’s time to open,” you smile. “I’ll be in my office!”

You take a deep breath, grab your belongings, and step out of your car. Closing the distance between you and the tattoo shop, you feel your nerves heighten when you step into the space.

The buzzing of needles and laughter fill the room. Another tattooed man greets you from behind the counter, recognizing you from the shop next door. 

“Hey, you work next door right?” He asks with a smile. You feel eyes on you, seeing a few employees lift their heads to get a look at you. 

“Mhm,” you nod.

“You work for…” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember the old manager’s name before you swiftly cut him off.

“No. It’s my shop, actually. Family business and all that stuff,” you smile.

“Nice!” He grins. “Thank god the guy isn’t there anymore, he was a massive dick.”

You can’t help but giggle at his comment. 

The tall, good looking, and mysterious tattoo artist emerges from a back room, quickly catching your attention. When you catch his, his brows lift in surprise before quickly turning his back to you — refocusing his attention on the needed items for his next client.

“I’m Yuta, by the way. Thought I’d introduce myself since we’re neighbors.” He turns to name the other employees working before he lands on the tall man who caught your attention. “And that’s Johnny. He owns the shop.” 

You smile at his kindness, easing your nerves a little before you tell him your name. 

“You have an appointment, right? I think I saw your name in our system.” His eyes quickly scan the computer screen in front of him, searching for your name. “Okay, yeah, I found it. Johnny will be working on you today.” 

You quickly thank him before taking a seat on the black sofa against the wall. You see Yuta playfully nudge the guy you’ve been checking out for the past few months before your tattooed crush nudges him back, seeing a glimpse of a smile dance on his lips.

Looking at the full length mirror on the opposite wall from you, you realize how much you stand out against the darker walls. You scan your white tennis shoes that’s paired with your light green pleated mini skirt and white camisole top that’s under your light green cardigan. 

You hear your name and you look up at your tattoo artist standing behind the counter. “Come on back,” he smiles, tilting his head towards his work area. 

Your heart pounds against your chest as you get up. You follow him, scanning his tall frame up and down before he turns around to face you.

“Have a seat,” he gestures. He sits on a rolling stool and places himself in front of you. “I’m Johnny, by the way. You work next door, right? I don’t think we ever met.” He extends his hand for you to shake.

You grab his hand, giving him a soft smile. “Yeah, I do.” Your hold lingers a little longer than it usually would before you pull back. “It’s nice to finally put a name to a face.”

Johnny shyly looks down, chuckling at your comment. Grabbing his iPad, he pulls up the reference photo you sent in. 

You both discuss the intricacies of your tattoo, adjusting the image to your liking before he walks you through the process and has you sign consent forms.

“Where do you want it?” Johnny asks, his eye contact causing heat to flush against your cheeks. 

You quickly remove your cardigan and point to your inner forearm. 

He quickly stencils the medium sized design that starts at your wrist and runs up your entire forearm. He gets your approval of the placement before beginning the fairly lengthy process. 

“Let me know if you need a break,” he softly says before the vibrations of the needle is heard — adding to the other noises that filled the room. 

As the needle punctures your skin, your mind strays away from the pain and instead notices the way Johnny’s gloved fingers press against your soft skin and how you could feel his breath as he moves closer to your body. You feel your heart race being so close to him. 

When the needle moves over tender spots, Johnny notices the way your body tenses. 

“Try to relax,” he softly, but sternly instructs. “You’re doing a great job so far.”

You feel your stomach do backflips at his words.

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“So, tell me.” Johnny clears his throat, eyes still fixed on the lines of the stencil. “What made you want to work at a flower shop? I’m assuming you love flowers?” He questions, referring to the intricate design that includes flowers.

“My grandma opened up the flower shop next door, so I grew up in it while my parents were at work. She taught me about different flowers and even taught me how to customize a bouquet,” you giggle, seeing the corner of Johnny’s mouth lift into a smile after hearing your laugh. “My grandma told me that flowers make people better and happier, like it’s medicine for the soul and it stuck with me. I saw flowers differently growing up and I wanted to do something that genuinely makes me happy, hence becoming a florist. When she passed, my mom couldn’t run the shop with her job so she hired someone else to do it and that new manager took what my grandma built and ruined it. So, I finished up getting my business degree and my mom passed the shop down to me.”

Johnny lifts his head to quickly look at you. “I think your grandma was right.” He nods. “You’re also doing great keeping your grandma’s legacy intact.”

“Thank you,” you shyly reply. “So tell me, what made you want to open your own shop instead of working for someone else?”

Johnny gives you a chuckle. “Honestly?” He smiles before returning to your design.

“Yes, honestly.”

“It was a compromise I made with my mom. She wasn’t the biggest fan of me becoming a tattoo artist, so she said that if I major in business while in university, then she’ll get off my back.”

“Did she?”

“No,” Johnny laughs. “She then said to put my degree to use. She probably meant to get into some boring corporate job, but I opened this shop instead.”

“Has she finally gotten off your back?” You giggle.

“Kinda,” he smiles, slightly shaking his head. “She still isn’t used to me being covered in tattoos, but she understands how much I love what I do, so that’s enough.”

After a few hours, the studio was cleared out of clients. During your session, Johnny’s employees let him know they were leaving, eventually leaving you two alone in the shop.

He finishes up, reminding you of the aftercare process, and you both walk over to the front counter. 

“Sorry I made you stay past closing,” you apologize, preparing your payment method. 

“You’re good, sometimes it happens.” Johnny grins, presenting you with the service amount, causing you to question how low the payment amount is. 

“I expected to pay more,” you furrow your brows a bit, looking up at Johnny who raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, uh,” he chuckles. “Think of it as a discount for other shop owners.” 

“You don’t need to do that.” Your eyes soften at his words, unknowingly making his knees weak.

“Perks of being the owner,” he shyly smiles, biting his bottom lip nervously.

“Thank you.” You tap your card against the card reader. “Are you leaving after this?”

“Gotta close up first. Probably gonna grab dinner then head home. You?” He pauses, realizing you are in fact going to leave after this. “I mean, do you have any plans after this?” You see his cheeks burn a rosy pink flush.

“Probably just grab dinner and head home too,” you nod. Your mind races as you debate on whether or not to invite him to get dinner with you. “Actually, there’s a restaurant a few stores down. If you want, we can get something to eat, my treat. A way for me to make up for making you stay here so late.” You suddenly feel heat run under your skin. “If not, I totally understand.” You stammer over your words. “It’s late and you probably already had a really long day.” 

“I don’t mind,” Johnny chuckled, lifting his hand to the back of his neck. “Give me like 15 minutes to clean and close up.” 

“Take your time,” you nod. “I’m gonna go quickly check on my employees next door. I’ll meet you outside?”

Johnny nods. He nearly stumbles over a chair behind him when he walks backward before he catches himself, shyly turning away from you to cover his embarrassment only to be betrayed by the way his ears flush a red tint. 

You quietly laugh to yourself and quickly disappear into your shop, your employees shocked to see you. 

“Hey, I knew that was your car I saw when I came back from lunch,” Hana says, wiping down the clear glass table and closing up for the night. 

Wren emerges from the back room and greets you with the same shock as Hana did. 

“I got my tattoo done next door,” you share, trying to keep your excitement contained. “Your eye candy has a name and it’s Johnny. He’s the owner of the shop.”

“Was he the one who did your tattoo?” Wren questions, restocking some of the pottery items that sold out during the day.

You nod, earning a squeal from both of them. “I’m actually going to that restaurant a few stores down for dinner with him.” You share. “But it is not a date.” You playfully point at Hana who you could already see going on and on about it being a date.

Before they can respond, a knock on the entrance door is heard. You turn to see Johnny wave at you with a kind smile, letting you know he was ready to go.

“That’s the first time I saw him smile!” Hana shares through clenched teeth, thankful for the four walls that made Johnny blissfully unaware that you were all talking about him. 

“I gotta go.” You make your way to the door, opening it, and turning to wave the girls goodbye.

“Have fun!” Hana and Wren shouts, earning a small wave from Johnny who is silently thanking them for letting him steal you away from the conversation.

“That was fast. Must be really hungry, huh?” You playfully comment that earns another shy smile from him. 

He sticks his hands into the pockets of his black cardigan. “Yuta actually did everything else, I just had to clean and lock up.” You feel his arm brush against yours, realizing you both were a lot closer to each other than you thought you were. “I’m sorry if I interrupted the conversation you were having. I didn’t mind waiting.”

“You’re fine,” you smile up at him. “Just wanted to see how the day went, that’s all.”

Johnny holds the door open for you when you both reach the restaurant. You’re greeted by a hostess who quickly seats both of you. 

You grab a menu that’s laid on the table before watching Johnny push up the sleeves of his cardigan, exposing his sleeve of tattoos on his forearms before picking up the menu for himself.

“Any tattoos you have that you’ve done yourself?” You ask, eyeing his arms. 

He looks down, smiling to himself. Setting down the menu. “There’s this one,” he says, showing you a simple ace of spades card tattoo. “And this one.” He points to another small tattoo of a ramen bowl with noodles and chopsticks. 

“Cute,” you giggle. “Your girlfriend must really love your tattoos, huh?”

Johnny picks up the menu again, scanning through it. “I’d hope so,” he pauses.

Your heart quickly falls to the pit of your stomach, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking he was single.

“If I had one.” He continues, one finger tapping against the menu before he closes it, assuming he’s finally decided on what to order. “I don’t date much.” 

“Oh?” Your surprised tone makes Johnny lift his gaze to meet yours. “By choice?”

“I guess you can say that,” he softly chuckles. “I’ve been told that I’m unapproachable, so I guess women don’t come up to me a lot.”

When you finally decide on what to order, you stack your menu on top of his. “You don’t ever make the first move?” You question before taking a sip of water.

“No, not really.” He clears his throat. “I guess if I really like someone, then yeah I’ll make the effort, but if I’m being completely honest with you, I’m really shy when it comes to things like that.”

The surprised look on your face catches his attention.

“Does my shyness surprise you?”Johnny chuckles in amusement, slightly cocking his head to the side, leaning into the backrest of his chair.

“Yeah, kind of? You’re just really intimidating,” you softly let out, leaning onto the table, elbows and arms resting on the table top. “I don’t think you being shy would be my first thought when looking at you.”

“What were your first thoughts of me?” He asks curiously.

You shake your head, a cheeky grin appearing. You definitely aren’t sharing the thoughts you had when you first saw him, so instead you keep it general. “I mistook your shyness for aloofness,” you share. 

He smiles, looking down at his fingers before  mimicking your body language. “I should probably fix all of that, right? If I want to get a girlfriend.”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “It’s not a problem, you just have to find someone who can get through that tough looking facade. I have a feeling you’re gentle and sweet, so I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to get a girlfriend just by being you.”

The waitress stops by to take your order, pausing your conversation for a moment. When she walks away, you catch Johnny looking at you.

“You think your boyfriend is gonna like your tattoo?” He asks, glancing down at your index finger tapping against the table top. 

“I’m sure he would,” you pause, taking a sip of water. “If he existed. Like yourself, I don’t date much either.”

“Why not?” Johnny questions, attempting to hide his shock.

“Honestly? People don’t really ask me out.” You chuckle, pushing the sleeves up to your elbows. “I don’t think I catch people’s attention,” you giggle. 

“I’m sure you catch people’s attention.” He gives you a bashful smile. “Maybe they’re just too shy to say anything.”

Since dinner, you and Johnny have been more friendly when you see each other. 

You find yourself near the display window whenever it’s near Johnny’s lunch break just so you catch his attention, making him give you a small smile and wave when he sees you. While Johnny always makes sure to grab something to eat at the bakery that is a few stores down from your shop, so he could see you even if just for a moment when he passes by. 

“I’m going on break,” you tell Hana who nods as she greets a customer who regularly comes by the shop.

You walk over a few stores down to the bakery you always go to. The aroma of freshly baked goods makes your mouth water. As you’re waiting in line, you feel a presence behind you. 

“Hey,” the familiar voice says, bending forward towards your ear.

You turn to see your tattoo artist, sporting him wearing the black cardigan he loves to wear but this time with a white t-shirt underneath. “Hey Johnny,” you smile, turning your attention back to the moving line.

“What’re you getting?” He asks, standing next to you. He looks at the menu above the workers, deciding on what to get. 

You tell him your go-to order before you watch him nod his head. 

“How’s your tattoo healing, by the way?”

“Really well,” you proudly smile, lifting your cardigan sleeve to show him your forearm. “See?”

“Yeah, looks good.” He smiles down at you, but you’re too busy admiring your tattoo.

You both step forward as the line moves and the cashier greets both of you. 

Johnny orders for you and him, swiftly pulling his phone out to pay for the pastries. “Could you bag those separately, please?” He asks the woman in front of him who simply nods. 

“You didn’t have to,” you nudged his arm with yours. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles, nudging your arm back. “Are you heading back after this?” He asks, waiting for the baked goods.

“I was actually going to stay for a bit. What about you?”

“I was planning on staying, too.” He grins, extending his hand out to grab the paper bags filled with pastries and iced coffees he ordered. “Can I join you?” 

“Of course,” you giggle, leading him to an empty table. He takes a look into the bags, giving you the pastries that you ordered along with the iced coffee you wanted.

You both talk about your day before laughing and giggling when one of your pastries is almost stolen by a passing baby in a stroller. The child’s mother profusely apologizes for her child’s curiosity, only to have the toddler give you a gummy smile. 

You don’t notice how Johnny looks at your interaction with the child. His eyes sparkle when he smiles, admiring your playful demeanor around the kid and the calm demeanor with the mom. He watches you wave goodbye to the child who squeals in excitement as they leave the bakery. You miss the opportunity to see him admiring you — this time, right in front of him.

You both finish eating before walking back to your respective shops together. You stop in front of yours. Before you could thank him for paying for your lunch again, he asks if he could ask you something.

“Sure,” you nod. “What is it?”

“I know you're busy and I probably should’ve asked sooner, but do you think you could make me a bouquet of flowers? It’s my mom’s birthday today.”

“Ah! This is why you bought me lunch today,” you playfully remark. “Butter me up before asking me for a favor.” 

“Damn, you read me like a book.” Johnny giggles, playing along.

“Yeah, I can definitely make one for your mom.” You smile. “Any flowers in particular she likes?” 

“Sunflowers and tulips.” 

“When do you want to pick it up?”

“Think it can be done by 4? I’m leaving a little before the shop closes for the day.”

“Yeah, for sure.” You smile. “I’ll see you around 4. Thanks for the treats, again.” You wave him goodbye and head into the store.

“Pretty,” Hana smiles as she looks at the vase of flowers, meeting you behind the counter.

“Thank you,” you smile. “Johnny asked if I could make it for his mom’s birthday.” 

Hana playfully gushes, nudging you in the arm with her elbow. “Speak of the devil.” She smirks, eyeing the entrance where Johnny walks in. 

The colors of your shop's wall contrast heavily against the dark clothes Johnny wears. 

He radiates a bright smile upon seeing you as he makes his way to the front counter. 

“Wow,” he grins. “So pretty.” 

Hana glances over at your interaction with Johnny. She quickly notes the way he looks at you when he compliments you only to notice that you were looking at the flowers — her heart screaming out in frustration that you missed his compliment.

“Here, write a quick note to your mom.” You slide a small card with a pen in his direction. He pushes his sleeves up his arms before writing a quick note. 

Pulling out an already prepped gift bag from under the counter, you place it next to the vase. 

Johnny slides you the note and you carefully place it between the plastic card holder that’s in the middle of the bouquet. 

“I also added one of our best selling ceramic cups for her as a little gift from us.” You smile, sliding the items towards him.

“That’s very kind of you.” He smiles, watching as you fiddle with your register. 

You show him his total cost, watching him knit his eyebrows together in confusion. “I expected to pay more,” he giggles, repeating the same comment you made when you got your tattoo.

“Think of it as a discount for other shop owners,” you tease.

“I can pay for it in full. I made you do it last min-”

You cut him off. “Perks of being the owner, right?” You giggle.

Johnny quickly accepts defeat and pays. He grabs the vase and gift bag, then proceeds to walk away only to stop in his tracks. He hesitates for a moment before turning to face you again. 

“There’s another thing I want to ask you,” he softly lets out, setting down the items back onto the counter.

“Need another bouquet?”

He softly giggles and shakes his head. “Are you free Friday night?” He nervously bites down on his bottom lip. 

“Yeah.” You slowly nod your head. 

“Do you maybe wanna go see a movie with me?” He pauses. “Like on a date?”

Your brows lift in surprise. “Yeah, I’d love to,” you smile, feeling your heart swell tenfold. You watch a sense of relief wash over his face, confidence quickly returning to his tall frame.

“Great,” he grins. “Can I get your number?” He pulls his phone out and hands it to you to input your number. 

You hand his phone back to him after saving your number in his contacts before leading him out, opening the door for him. 

“Thanks,” he grins. “I’ll call you.”

During the movie, you watch Johnny’s fingers tap against his dark colored jeans as he bounces his knee. 

“Nervous?” You lean over to whisper in his ear.

“Maybe a little,” he weakly grins. He sharply inhales, trying to calm his nerves. “Sorry, I’m distracting you.”

You reach over, gently grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers between his. “Better?” You smile, shifting your body to rest your head on his broad shoulder.

He quickly relaxes, tightening his grip on your hand. “Much better.” He gently rests his cheek against you.

You stroke your thumb over his hand as you refocus on the big screen. A few minutes later, your attention is pulled away when Johnny softly whispers your name. 

“Hm?” You lift your head to look at him. You could feel the air thicken around the two of you.

Tension builds when his hand gently cups the side of your neck and your lips part at his touch. Your heart thumps hard against your chest. He leans into you and his lips gently press against yours. A spark in your stomach ignites and you feel nothing but pure bliss. You move your soft lips with his, feeling him deepening the kiss before slowly pulling away. 

Johnny tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing you again, this time, slowly delving his tongue into your mouth and gently rolling it over yours. Your hands grip onto his shirt, pulling on it to keep him close to you. He tugs on your bottom lip as he pulls away, causing your stomach to flutter immensely and leaving you breathless.

“Do you still wanna watch the movie?” He whispers, stroking his thumb against your cheek, his lips just centimeters away from yours. “We can grab something to eat and head back to my place instead.”

“After you,” you quickly reply.

Johnny chuckles. He quickly finds your hand, leading you out of the theater and back to his car.

You unbuckle your seatbelt when you arrive at his apartment building after grabbing a pizza of your choice. Your hand reaches to open the passenger car door until Johnny gently grabs your hand.

“Just so you know, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Please don’t feel like we need to do anything other than hang out.” His reassurance lifts a weight off your shoulders. 

“Thank you for saying that,” you smile. 

You follow him up to his apartment. Settling in his living room, he places the pizza box onto the coffee table and grabs paper plates from his kitchen cabinet while you wash up in his bathroom. You join him on the sofa, grabbing the plate with a slice of pizza on it that Johnny hands you. 

“Can I ask you something?” You ask Johnny, who leans his back against the sofa’s armrest with his legs pressed against his chest. You mimic his seating position on the opposite end of the sofa. 

“Sure,” he takes a bite of his pizza. 

“So, what made you want to ask me out?” 

He nearly chokes on his food before washing it down with his drink, clearly finding your question unexpected. 

You give him a moment to recollect himself while giggling at his reaction. 

“I, um,” he stammers. “I enjoyed our conversation we had over dinner that day you got your tattoo.” He shyly smiles. 

“Oh?” You grin. “Why did it take you so long? It’s been like two months since then.” 

“I wasn’t sure if you were interested. Like I told you that night, I don’t usually ask people out.” He blushes at you. “Speaking of that day, can I admit something?” 

You nod, taking a bite of your food. 

“I was surprised you came into the shop when you did.” He bites back a laugh before swallowing. 

Your brows shoot up in shock. “Why’s that?” You cock your head to the side, a smile lifting from the corners of your mouth.

“You don’t look like someone who would get a tattoo.”

“There’s a specific look?” You tease.

“No, no,” he giggles. “You just look like someone who wouldn’t want one or didn’t care to get one. I guess I didn’t expect you to see you and talk to you that day either.” 

“But you’re glad I came in?” 

“Definitely,” he lightly chuckles before taking a sip of his drink. 

“I’m glad I did too,” you take another bite. “I’m able to get to know you and I got the tattoo I’ve always wanted. It’s a win-win situation for me, really.” 

“Any more questions you wanna ask?” He teases.

You ponder his question, thinking of something to ask. You nod your head when you finally think of a question. “Can I see your sketchbook?” You ask, sweetly.

“How do you know I have a sketchbook?”

“Before I got my tattoo, I would see you at the bakery on your lunch breaks with it. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Oh? So you’ve been watching me?” He teases, placing his slice of pizza onto his plate on the coffee table. “Let me go grab it.” He disappears into another room and returns with a black sketchbook in his hand.

You extend your hand out as Johnny hands it to you. You reposition yourself so you’re leaning your back on the backrest of the sofa. 

Opening up the sketchbook, you excitedly flip through the pages in awe. Johnny takes a seat next to you, sinking into the sofa.

His sketchbook is full of potential tattoo designs and little doodles that he drew that you recognize he has tattooed on his arms. You lightly graze the coffee stains that paint some corners of the pages, knowing he probably spilled some of his coffee on it while he was on break. You eventually come across portraits he’s drawn of random people. 

“I didn’t know you drew portraits,” you look up at him who shyly looks away when you catch him staring at you. You wrap your arm around his bicep, resting your head onto his shoulder, finding it adorable when he gets shy around you.

“It’s not something I’m super confident in, so I don’t tell people.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“These are really good though,” you praise. “Do you just draw random people you see?”

“Only ones that spark some emotion.” 

He points to his drawing of an old man having coffee by himself and holding a letter in his hand. “He used to come to a cafe with an old lady every weekend and one weekend, he came alone.” Then he points to a drawing of a little boy with tears brimming his eyes. “He fell and ran to his dad because he scraped his elbow.” And points again to a drawing of the side profile of a girl. “I just thought she looked lonely.” 

“These are all sad pictures,” you let out. 

“It was all I really noticed at the time,” he shrugged.

You flip the page and scan more beautiful drawings. As you’re about to turn the page again, Johnny tugs on the book, swiftly pulling it away from you.

“I think that’s enough,” he nervously chuckles, getting up from his seat.

“Wait,” you pout. “But I wanted to see more. They’re really good.” 

Johnny hesitates. 

“I’m not here to judge it, I find your work incredible.” You tug on his arm, urging him to sit back down. “Please?”

He slowly sits back down and gives it back and you flip back to the page you were on. “Thank you,” you smile, repositioning your arm around his bicep again. 

Turning the page, you find portraits of you that fill two pages. One of them is a drawing of you holding a bouquet of flowers behind what looks like your store’s display window — presumably the same day you first saw Johnny. There’s another portrait of you watering flowers with sketches of tulips next to it. 

“Have you been a secret admirer of mine?” You tease playfully, feeling his body move as he chuckled. 

Your fingers brush over another drawing of you sipping on your iced coffee as you look at your phone. You flip the page again and see another drawing of you eating a bowl of ramen with the same outfit you wore the night you had dinner with Johnny. 

You continue flipping the pages before eventually coming to a blank page. Closing the sketchbook, you carefully hand it back to him who places it on the coffee table in front of you. 

He turns his entire body to face you. 

“You’re really talented,” you smile. “But I’m just a little confused.” 

“About?”

“You said you draw portraits that ignite some kind of emotion right? The drawings of me didn’t look like it invoked any emotions, it’s just things that I do like drink coffee or watering plants.” You laugh, holding Johnny’s hand in yours. 

“It might not seem like it, but it does.” He lifts your hand to his lips, giving the back of your hand a tender kiss. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time.” 

“Felt what?” You smirk, fully knowing what he was talking about. 

Johnny shakes his head, biting his bottom lip with a smile across his face. “I like you.” He admits. “I hope that’s okay. I’m not entirely sure if I’m your type b-” 

You cleanly cut him off. “You’re exactly my type,” you grin. “And for what it’s worth, I like you, too.” 

Johnny leans in to give you a soft kiss on your forehead. Silence falls between you for a moment. “It’s getting late,” he lets out. “I should get you home.” He cups your cheek with his hand and strokes your skin with his thumb. You give his palm a gentle kiss. 

“I don’t wanna go home,” you wearily let out. 

Johnny’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise at your words — you would miss it if you weren’t looking right at him. “Do you wanna stay the night?” He asks, heart beating against his chest, nervously awaiting your answer. 

“Yes.”

You both lay in Johnny’s bed, lips moving in sync with each other’s as his hand explores your body. His lips move to the crook of your neck, swiping his tongue against your skin before sucking it into his mouth. 

“Remember when you said we didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do?” You question. 

He lifts his head and nods.

“Would it still be okay if I did want to do something?” 

“Only if it’s something you really want to do,” he clarifies, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “There’s no rush, really.” 

“I want to,” you shyly let out, feeling a hint of embarrassment. “Do you?”

He nods and begins peppering kisses against your heated cheek before capturing your lips once again. Smoothly removing his shirt, your eyes scan the tattoos inked onto his right side of his chest as he hovers over you. 

Your hands cup the sides of his neck, pulling him down to your lips. A low groan is heard from Johnny before he removes his sweatpants, kicking the fabric to the side. 

Quickly sitting up, you lift your arms as he helps you remove your top, allowing the fabric to fall onto the bedroom floor as Johnny presses his soft lips against your collarbone, causing you to fall onto your back again. You undo your jeans and Johnny helps you remove them, throwing it to the side. 

“You’re sure about this?” Johnny questions. 

“More than sure,” you smile, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Johnny carefully removes the fabric covering your core, leaving you completely naked underneath him. He gently strokes your slit, feeling your body tingle under his touch as he coats his finger with your arousal. A quiet moan parts your lips, earning a little smile from him. 

Dipping into his underwear, you gently tug on his shaft. He quickly removes the only fabric he has on, his erection more prominent than ever. Licking your hand, you slowly stroke his length, watching him bite back a moan — his jaw falls open when you rub your thumb over his sensitive tip.

“I want you now,” you softly beg. 

He leans over to his nightstand, pulling a condom out of the drawer before sliding it on. Aligning himself with your entrance, you feel his tip slowly dip inside of you. 

You bite down on your bottom lip as you feel the stretch. Your fingers dig crescent shaped indents into his biceps as he sinks deeper into you. 

Johnny gently moves deeper with every stroke until he’s completely inside of you. He keeps his sights on you, watching your body move up and down with every deep, slow, and sensual thrust. 

You’re inched closer and closer to your climax as Johnny’s tip hits that sensitive spot in you. He swallows your moans as he kisses you before you wrap your arms around his neck and press the heel of your feet against his lower back, keeping him as close to him as possible. 

He’s timing his orgasm with yours, wanting to make sure you reach your climax before he does. 

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your back arches, and sweet melodic moans fill his room when your orgasm overtakes your body. Johnny releases into the condom right after you — helping you through your ecstasy as his thick ropes fill up the latex. 

He kisses you, hard. “Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. The weight of his body on top of you warms your naked body as he tries to catch his breath for a moment before slowly pulling himself out of you. 

“I’m great,” you weakly grin. “Are you okay?”

He chuckles, sharply inhaling before another soft laugh leaves his lips. “I’m good.” He removes the condom and tosses it into his trash bin. “Should we wash up before calling it a night?” Johnny stands at the edge of his bed, extending his hand out for you to grab.

You take his hand and he leads you to his bathroom, helping you wash up before heading to bed. You’re cuddled next to him and feel his large hand stroke your back. You lay your head on his chest with your eyes closed, slowly falling asleep to his heartbeats.

Johnny kisses your forehead tenderly. “Good night, baby. See you in the morning.”

[katiascraft]

Hi!! Sorry to bother you with a request. Can you make some angsty with miscomunication with happy ending where lando and reader are best friends and kinda like a thing but at the same time he is kinda with magui and then after a while lando and reader start dating and then dts Its drop and she finds out that magui was there when she trough They were already over? Very specific he he and im not good at english im sorry and thank you!

hey anon! I loved this idea sooooo much. i was already thinking about something like this so thank you so very much for your request! and sorry it took this long for me to write it :( i hope you enjoy it <3 (pss your english is very good and your requests will never bother me, they make me happy!) (also I hope it makes sense)

﹙LN4﹚ ── ❝ almost, always ❞

summary: this chapter of y/n’s life is about how lando said there was nobody else for him but then she appeared.

warnings: i used reckless by madison beer to write this one and traitor by olivia rodrigo :( and cried a lot. very angsty. but a happy ending after all. cursing. cheating. insults. please use your imagination along the ride! not proofread.

blog masterlist

You and Lando have been the best of friends since forever. Your older brother, Dante, went to school with George Russell and he has always been really supportive of his driving career. Since you have memory you were playing around at the karting competitions in different places of england and then europe. All of your family was really close to George's family so no doubt you were going to be there for him when he started racing in F2. and that’s exactly when you and Lando met. He was a cute little guy. But a handsome teenager with the most contagious laugh and sparkly ocean blue eyes. You knew that since then, that very first day of competition, you were in love with him.  

And Lando knew it too. He knew the moment he saw your sweet and shy smile directed at him there was no coming back to where things were. You changed his life. You showed him how it was like to love someone. The sun was behind you and it made you look like an angel in his teenage eyes. You were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. So he knew he didn't have a chance. He kept his feelings and thought that he should be thankful you even talk to him. But you didn’t just talk to him just for talking. You built this magical bond full of love, understanding, admiration. It was healthy. It was safe.

You were inseparable, unbreakable and above all, untouchable. Everyone could see the chemistry. The sparks coming out of you. You had the kind of bond that made people think ‘they must be something more than just friends’. But you both were too scared to do anything about it. You just enjoyed each other's company and it was beautiful that way.

Until it wasn’t anymore. 

Nowaday things between you two are completely different but you were more than sure that if there was a chance to travel back in time, you would. And you would change everything that ruined everything. All the wrong decisions. All the stupid feelings. Her. you would more than gladly erase her. And maybe even erase him too.

Because even though he brought so much joy and love in your life, he also brought a lot of pain and insecurity. He was once your safe place but now you want to be as far away from him as possible. You’re no longer on speaking terms anymore. 

situationships suck ᝰ.ᐟ

(beginning 2023 - middle 2024)

You had convinced yourself what you felt for him was normal. That your heart racing every time he was too close was normal. That the way he looked at your lips when he talked to you was also normal. That the way he looked for you in the crowd every podium was normal. That the way butterflies went in circles in your stomach was normal. That your happiness was coming from his happiness was normal. 

It must be because he has a girlfriend. Luisa. And you like her, right? 

His touch didn’t burn your skin. His fingers didn’t trace circles in them when he was anxious. He didn’t whisper in your ear everytime he was nervous. He didn't ask his team to specifically be allowed to be at the garage close to him. He didn’t introduce you to every single member of the team and everybody knew you. He didn ‘t do all of that when she wasn’t around… because she wasn’t around and you were. 

Lando didn’t know what to do with his feelings. She was his best friend, the girl who got him in and out, through and through. She knew everything about him. She listened. She smiled at him in the sweetest way and made him gifts. When she was around she was the only person that mattered. And sometimes he forgot he had a girlfriend whether she was around or not. It was her, always. But he was a coward and didn’t believe she liked him back that way. She was gorgeous and he was just a dude. He wasn’t special the way he thought she was.

For him, it has always been you. But fear was a cruel thing. He didn’t wanna lose you. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wouldn’t forgive himself. 

So he played along as the loving and caring boyfriend with luisa when you were the only thing in his head. He preferred to stay in your safe bubble of almosts and what ifs rather than fuck it up with you. 

Until that night. The night he knew he couldn’t keep pretending and lose you. He couldn’t keep on lying to luisa. She deserved better. But seeing you with that guy in that little black dress drove him almost insane. You were so close to him, flirting disgustingly. He was red with anger. He wanted to do something but his girlfriend was there and you were supposed to be just that friend of his. His best friend and that was it. He should be happy for you. But he wasn’t. 

So in between the conversation you turned around and saw him staring. Stone face. He was looking straight through you. For a moment you forgot how to breathe. The way his jawline was pressed in a way it made his muscles show even more. His shirt unbuttoned. The lights reflecting on his beautiful eyes. You almost panicked. You could feel he was feeling the same. You knew you weren’t crazy. 

He felt it too. 

You don’t remember how it happened but you ended up on his sheets that night. The way he kissed you so desperately. He broke up with luisa as if it was easy. You didn’t have time to process it at the moment. To see the red flags waving high in the sky. Desire and desperation made it easy to ignore them. He was all your brain could think. His skin against yours. You moaning his name. 

You have waited for that moment your whole life. And you didn’t remember feelings of ecstasy ever before. 

“It’s always been you, yaknow?” His voice was deep and low. He pressed a soft kiss on your neck sending shivers down your spine. His fingers are tracing patterns in your arm. He felt at ease under your scent. 

You remember that night as the most magical night of your life. But you didn’t know that to him it was just another story he would get bored of and throw away.

While you were together, life was the most exciting thing in the world. Road trips, dates at the beach, paddle matches and barbecue with friends, travelling to london to visit his family, party nights, sex, kisses, roses and diamonds. It was perfect. He was the sweetest guy in this world. But there was one thing you wouldn't do. And that was calling him ‘mine’ because he wasn’t yours. You were just ‘friends’. But friends shouldn’t know how you taste, right?

That made you feel so confused. He told you he loved you and made love to you as if it was a promise. But then you were his friend to his family and friends. Just y/n. It was you, yes but not the way you would’ve preferred to be called. 

But then, out of nowhere it seemed, he would flirt with girls at parties in your face. And that’s when everything started going to shit. You didn’t understand what was actually going on. Why was he doing that? If you were so important to him, why would he play with you this way? If he cared so much about you, why would he put you under so much shit? 

But the breaking point was her. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile to die for. She was nothing special, just a blonde girl. But I guess blondes always have more fun than the rest of us, and more with that angelic face of hers. That’s when you lost lando. He started talking about her ‘she is nice, you know? I think you would like her’. And then he would stop inviting you to dates, but she would go with him and watch the sunset at max’s yacht. And she started replacing you in every way she could. And you just watched it happen being unable to stop it. You started realizing he didn’t even care about you. You were just another girl on his list and probably never considered you an actual friend. If he did, he wouldn’t have played with you this way. But he did, and it hurt. 

And that’s when everything ended. 

just a friend ᝰ.ᐟ

(july 2024)

“She’s just a friend y/n” he said, fed up with your questioning. You can clearly see in his face that he was so done with this discussion. 

“Lando, for fucks sake, stop lying to me. She clearly isn't” you insisted on entering his room at his Monaco house. 

“I can’t keep up with this y/n. Just stop. I don’t know what else you want me to say” he was getting really annoyed. 

“The truth! Tell me the fucking truth! Was I a joke to you? You never cared, did you? You just wanted to laugh in my fucking face right?” your voice expressed how hurt you were. 

“You’re not a joke y/n” 

You laughed dryly “right, alright. Then what’s her? Max told me lando, you kissed her. And i know you fucked her multiple times, i just know it. Stop pretending you dont know what the fuck is going on when you know exactly what im talking about!” tears started to stream down your face “is this what you wanted? Did you ever care about our friendship? My fucking feelings? I feel so used, it's disgusting lando. I knew you were stupid but I never thought you would be this evil. If you didn’t love me then why did you do all of this?” 

“y/n, i love you” you could see in his face he was now scared. But you didn't care anymore. And didn’t want to know the reasons for it either. 

“No, you don’t lando! If you fucking did you wouldn’t have hurt me this way! I was there for you for fucks sake, i was fucking there for you all of this time! I gave you everything! Everything! And all you ever wanted was to fuck a fucking model?! I can’t believe I was so damn stupid to believe every lie you fed me! Oh god i hate myself so much” 

·y/n, please, calm down. We can talk this-” 

“Do you really are asking me to fucking calm down after what you did?! And you didn't even deny it! You’re so guilty of all of it. You knew! You knew what you were fucking doing and you didn’t care! I hate you, lando. I hate you with every gut i have left” 

“No, no, no. please, y/n. Let me explain. It’s not like that. I do care about you. I just thought you didn’t want to be with me. You became so close to Max I thought you wanted to be with him and…” 

You couldn’t believe your ears. You just couldn’t believe he would really use that as an excuse. “Shut up lando, max is a fucking friend. It was you. It has always been you. Holy shit! I have your fucking letters saying i was all you have ever wanted! How could you? You’re ashamed of me, that's it, right? I'm not as beautiful as I should be for you to call me yours. I'm not a model enough for you, am I? I can't believe it! I'm so stupid” 

“No, y/n is not that, believe me. she isn't you.” he was literally begging on his knees. 

“Don’t be pathetic lando, i won’t ever believe a fucking word you say. You’re a liar. You played me as a toy. Like I was nothing and now you want me to believe you? Hope you are fucking happy with her, and i hope she can make up for what i couldn’t for not being fucking good enough for you” you were so hurt you just had to run from that bedroom, from that house. 

“y/n! Wait! Please!” It was too late. You were already in your mclaren. “I don’t know what I did…” he was left talking alone. And not understanding what he even did. But he knew he already regretted it. 

she. isn't. you.

she must be perfect but I hope you both go to hell ᝰ.ᐟ

(august 2024)

After that day, I didn't leave my bed. The way it all happened so fast. The way he would still lie to you. You hated men. You hated him and everything about him. All you knew from that day was what you could see on social media even though you always put ‘dont show this content’ or ‘i'm not interested in this content’. He lied and told everyone at a fan meeting that he was single, when you knew from Max he already asked her out… unlike with you. 

She seemed nice. She was very beautiful. But you weren’t that evolved yet. You hated her. If she didn’t exist then he would be still yours. It would be you there on holiday in the alps. Oh god, you fucking wanted to be her. She was all you wanted to be. Skinny, blonde, flawless. You wanted everything she had. She was sunkissed, you felt like a vampire. She was shining and you were drowning. She took everything from you and left no crumbs. 

And the worst part is that he seemed to be happy. You are still friends with Pietra and she told you she was nice and that they got along pretty well. And that maybe if  you and lando want to fix it, you all can be a huge group of friends. You fucking hated that idea. It repulsed you. But you weren’t so sure if it was because of her or because of him no more. 

It should be you, it should be you, it should be you. 

You were driving yourself insane stalking her profile. Obsessing with the idea she was everything you were not. You wanted to burn her alive even though the real asshole was him. 

But you loved him first, right? That should matter… Did it matter? Did he think of you? Did he regret it? Did he talk to her about his fears and dreams? Did he share the same joke that was only yours? Did he talk to her in her ear the same way he used to do with you? Was he as obsessed with her as he was with you? Did he feel the same? Was he in love? 

All the questions weren’t letting you have a moment of peace and your brain was really good at torturing you. 

guess my friends were right (you might love her now but you loved me first) ᝰ.ᐟ

(from august 2024 to march 2025)

Life for Lando wasn’t that easy after seeing you walking away from his life. He knew he fucked it up. But he tried to play it cool. As if you were right about everything, because he thinks he deserves to suffer after what he has done. Yes, he was a masochist at this point. He was dating someone he didn’t like at all, he knew. But he couldn’t stop his torture because he simply believed he didn’t deserve to be happy. He saw your eyes, the saw the pain he caused for being such a coward. And stupid. And idiotic. And a fucking loser. He acted like a kid and lost the girl of his dreams. The girl who had been there for him since the beginning. The one that got him by just looking in her eyes. She knew. She knew all of him, the real him. All his fears and dreams and desires and mistakes. He had it all. He had her, all of her to himself but let it fall. He threw her against the floor and broke her into so many pieces. And instead of mending his faults, he just ran away crying. Like a little kid running away from the monster under his bed. 

Maggie was doing her makeup at the hotel room’s mirror. He watched her for a while trying to puzzle what he felt for her. But all he wanted to see was you. And he knew it was impossible for that to happen now. And probably like ever again. 

The fact he had to pretend every single minute of his life was starting to take a toll on him. He lost that spark he used to have. He lost that characteristic smile when he did well in a race. And his interviews just turned monotone and grey. Something was off people would comment. But he didn’t care. He deserved it. He fucking deserved it. 

Maggie always tried to cheer him up and he pretended it was just because he hated the media. And not because you used to be there with him, always. But now it is almost alone. 

It almost happened. It was almost you. It was almost the happy ending you deserved but he decided to ruin it. It was almost you and him against the world. But it was almost, though all he wanted was forever with you. 

At the beginning he was obsessed with maggi. The way her eyes looked at him, that cheeky smile  of hers. She was all he wanted as a fantasy. She was his fantasy in real life. He was so captivated by her looks and sweet voice. Almost like yours. But something drew him to her. He still doesn’t know what it was. Guess some things don't have an explanation. She was soft and shiny. He wanted to touch her everywhere, everytime. He forgot he had the love of his life waiting for him to watch a movie and eat burritos and kinders. He forgot the small things mattered more. He forgot what it was like to feel love during sex. But he was drunk. In her looks, in the way she talked to him. He forgot about you. He couldn't concentrate. 

But when you were gone, he pretended maggie was you as twisted as it sounds. He was convinced he became completely insane. People constantly telling him how awful he was to the poor girl. Your brother hates him. Dante didn’t say hi to him ever again since that day. 

He saw you at a couple of races at the Mercedes garage. You always pretended to have never known him in your life. He saw fans on twitter theorizising why you didn’t look at him anymore. They also believed it was his fault. And surely it was. 

That day you walked past him. He smelled your scent, still wearing the same perfume you adored so much and that made him fall in love the first time he saw you. You were laughing while talking with Carmen in Spanish, because you were the king of languages. You were really good at them and you enjoyed so much learning new stuff. He liked that about you, you are always driven to learn and learn and learn. He wanted to say hi, and even though you ignored him, Carmen looked at him in a really not inviting way. Everybody knew he fucked it up. He felt so ashamed of himself. 

said you’d never hurt me but here we are ᝰ.ᐟ

(australian grand prix, 2025)

You were so nervous to be back at the paddock and at the same time so excited for this new chapter for mercedes. You were longing for Lewis but at the same time you were very excited about kimi. Weather conditions were terrible and it in a really sarcastic way showed how you really felt about being there. You didn’t want to come at first but Carmen was a really good convincing person and you were no exception. Plus, you wanted to see your friends George and Alex. The two brits were your best friends since F2 back in 2018 when it all started. It was insane that so many years have passed already. All of the memories you cherished in your heart. They were so precious to you. 

Kym illman received you at the gates taking pictures of you, your brother, carmen and george coming into the paddock for race day. You always hated the media because their cameras made you look so bad, you thought. But it was part of your friend’s work so, it was what it was. You were already so wet you thought it was embarrassing. A super big mercedes hoodie covered your body as a dress and some rain boots on. And you called that outfit a day. It wasn’t glamorous at all, but it was so you for sure. 

Heading to the Mercedes hospitality, you saw Lando taking coffee with his parents at the McLaren hospitality. Your brother put on his best dog face and didn’t look at them. But for some reason you couldn’t do that to his parents even though you hated their son. Lando’s mom looked at you and waved happily to see you. “Hey!, y/N!” she said sweetly and smiled at her. They were always really good to you. So you got closer and said hi to them properly with a kiss on a cheek and a little hug for each. 

“Hi” , you only said to Lando, keeping your distance in a sad and shy smile. He half smiled as well.

“Hi” he said back to you the same way. 

“Darling you look so gorgeous, I love that haircut on you. You’re such a pretty girl” his mom said and made you blush immediately. 

“Oh, thank you so much… i gotta go… have  a great race, lando” you said a bit awkwardly and walked away to the mercedes hospitality to join your people. 

Lando was in awe of you. He kept the way you said his name on his head. It’s been the longest time without hearing your voice, that he realized he forgot how it sounded. And he also realized that it was your sweet voice, the only voice he wanted to listen to the rest of his life. He hated himself for that. But after all this time, he had made one thing right. He broke up with Maggi a week ago. He couldn’t keep pretending, he was done. 

“She looked really beautiful… it’s sad you don't talk anymore. We really liked her” his mother said and he shook his head a bit.

“i fucked it up, mom. But i will figure out a way to make it right again” he answered but more reassuring himself rather than his mother. 

She smiled looking proudly at her son “the good thing is to learn darling, you’re a good boy, let yourself be happy and fight for what makes you happy… you deserve it” she said sweetly sending lando all the energy he needed to go afloat. 

the only girl you’ve ever wanted in your life ᝰ.ᐟ 

Lando won. Lando won. Lando won. He did it. Of course you were happy for your friend who came out third and kimi fourth! What an amazing race though you were at the brink of suffering from a heart attack for two hours. After a lot of champagne was thrown to George, you were resting in the hospitality building waiting for your brother, Dante and George to come around. Carmen went to talk to alexandra for a bit and Lili was already at the hotel. So you decided to check on twitter all of the memes and opinions on this race. You saw a few people sharing your pics and commenting whether they were happy to see you or telling you looked disgusting as ever. It was hard to get used to this side of the sport but you always tried to brush it off.

You were so concentrated on your phone, you didn’t realize until the third time Lando cleared his throat that he was there standing in front of you in his casual clothes already, and freshly showered, smelling as good as you remembered him. 

“Hi,” he said again, sitting in front of you. You smiled a bit shocked that he is here in front of you after so many months of not even seeing pics of him. And he looked really nice in your opinion, but when did he not? 

“Hey” you said. He was nervous, he didn’t like the fact your hoodie wasn’t McLaren but you looked cute anyway. 

“It's been a long time,” he answered.

“Yup” you nodded. 

Silence. 

You stared at each other for a while. If someone walked past, they would think you were playing eyesight war but you were just analysing each other trying to think of what to say or where to begin. 

“I’m sorry” you both said in unison. You looked at each other in surprise now and then laughed it away. 

“Alright, that was a bit weird,” he said, giggling. “Guess, we still connected somehow…” his voice turning off as the sentence ends. 

“I guess in a way we are… I can't stop thinking about you and what happened…” you confessed even to your own surprise. 

He smiled a little, feeling his heart start to race “me neither to be honest… i feel terrible about it” you could see how honest he was being. Or at least to want to believe him. He felt different. You guessed that maybe he doesn't know why he lied that much either. 

“I miss you” you confessed even though you didn’t want to. But even after everything… you still loved him. 

His eyes showed a little spark. It wasn't there when he sat in front of me a few minutes ago. Now his smile got bigger showing his dimples. He was a pretty motherfucker, you thought.

“I miss you too,” he agreed. 

Was this the beginning of a second chance? Or maybe you're announced dead? 

Or maybe the happily ever after you have always dreamed about, but only time will tell.

THE ENDᝰ.ᐟ 

dont forget to reblog, like or comment if you liked it! and follow me so we can be friends <3 (and drink mate together)

[yuechihua]

a strange case of bangboos.

summary: Harumasa brings exact Bangboo replicas of you and your Section Six coworkers to the office. For some reason, his Bangboo won't leave you alone.

notes: 3.7k words, author's notes, spoilers and references for Section Six special episode, fluff

There are a few things you’ve come to expect from your coworker, Asaba Harumasa: falling asleep at his desk during the middle of the day, sneaking requests for time off work alongside his pile of overdue reports, and walking into the office several hours late with a ridiculous excuse.

So when Harumasa strolls into the office for once, on time, with a light step and casual wave, it’s enough to make you look up from your flood of paperwork with a confused glance as he throws you a wink.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says cheerily, hand on his hips, stopping just short of entering the office. “I have a surprise for you all!” 

Soukaku and Miyabi, who have been diligently working (read: eating snacks and playing tic tac toe on official bureaucratic documents), are the first to run over. Yanagi remains at her desk, and the two of you exchange wary looks. 

“They’re so cute!” Soukaku says with childish delight, crouching down to mess with something half-hidden behind Harumasa and the open office doors. 

“How lifelike,” Miyabi muses, arms folded.

It’s at this point that you and Yanagi can’t resist striding over to see what Harumasa’s surprise entails. You’re greeted by the sight of several Bangboos crowding behind him. They appear to be custom-made: one in blue, one in black, one in white, and one in your favorite color—they’re the exact same as the Bangboo forms you and your colleagues had taken during a virtual reality attack from a hacker group. 

Soukaku is patting her Bangboo, her eyes bright as the Bangboo (Soukaboo, you decide it should be called) makes happy noises. Miyabi and her Bangboo (Miyaboo would be a good name for it) simply stare at each other without blinking, though after a moment, Miyabi nods, as if coming to some sort of internal decision.

“Bangboo?” Yanagi murmurs. “But why?”

“You can interact with them, you know,” Harumasa interjects.

“Interact with them?” you ask. 

At the sound of your voice, your Bangboo tilts its head at you. It appears to be sizing you up in the same way you’re observing it, with the same measured detachment. It’s a little eerie how similar it is to you, your mannerisms captured in a robot. 

Harumasa’s Bangboo (Asaboo, you dub it in your head) takes a few steps towards your Bangboo and tries to nuzzle it, only for your Bangboo to swiftly sidestep its advances, turning its body away in a clear sign of rejection. Asaboo lets out a sad little sigh, synthetic ears drooping, before it immediately perks up when its gaze alights on you.

“Ehn-nah!” Asaboo says, its mechanical voice sounding like the cheerful jingle of a bell.

Its body is chubby and white, smooth and sleek like the shell of a fat egg, and it preens under your newfound attention. Asaboo spins in a circle, revealing a little red target and arrow on its butt, and it takes all your self control not to throw your arms around it. 

There’s one thing you can’t deny: these Bangboo are absolutely adorable.

“It’s so much cuter than Harumasa,” you say out loud, arms crossed, as Asaboo beeps a little “eh-nah” in agreement, shuffling closer to you as it does.

“I agree,” Yanagi says. “Perhaps we could consider replacing Harumasa with this Bangboo. I imagine reports would come in a much more timely manner if we did.” 

“You know I can hear you, right?” Harumasa says, a faux wounded expression on his face.

“I know,” you say dryly. “But what’s the point of bringing them over? Don’t these look like the time we were turned–”

“It’s a change of pace,” Harumasa interrupts. “I figured we needed our own mascots, don’t you think? Think of the merchandising we can do. And they would brighten up the office.” 

“Yeah?” you say, unconvinced. “Since when did you care about that?”

“Well…” he continues, “There was also a deal at the shop I went to where if you bought one, you could get one free. Why wouldn’t I take advantage of such a good deal?”

Miyabi is watching Harumasa with a contemplative expression, her ear twitching slightly at his words. Before you can ask her what she’s thinking about, Asaboo suddenly tugs at your leg.

You glance down, and its chubby arms are wrapped around your calf, its little face peering up at you with its wide eyes.

“Eh-nah?” it asks, in the cutest, most innocent voice imaginable. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching down and patting the top of its head. It wiggles at your touch, reaching up its little hands, as if trying to feel the spot where you just pat it to capture your warmth. 

“It’s so cute,” you say fondly. 

At your words, Asaboo jumps up and down in excitement. 

“And it’s oddly attached to you,” Yanagi remarks. “Asaba, what does the AI data for these Bangboos look like?”

For the first time this morning, Harumasa looks abashed, but that doesn’t stop him from responding, “Well, these Bangboos are modeled closely on our personalities.”

“Harumasa, is there something you want to say to me?” you tease. “I don’t recall you being as desperate for my attention as this Bangboo.”

“I think this is very telling, Asaba,” Yanagi says, crossing her arms. 

“What on earth are you two talking about?” Harumasa says, widening his eyes, neatly sidestepping your questions and avoiding your gaze. “Telling in what way? Deputy Chief, don’t tell me you’re feeling left out. Should I order one for you, too?”

“No,” Yanagi says wearily, “That won’t be necessary. I’d rather you save your money for something useful.”

“This is useful, though! It’s excellent for team morale! Don’t you think they’re cute, Soukaku?”

“Hm…” Soukaku looks down at Soukaboo, who does a little hop. “They’re cute! I like them.”

“Don’t drag Soukaku into this!” Yanagi says. 

“I think my Bangboo will make an excellent training partner. I haven’t had a chance to spar with myself yet,” Miyabi interjects in a thoughtful voice. Miyaboo nods its head in agreement.

“Chief, not you, too!”

“I think it’s harmless, Yanagi,” you say. “It’s one of Harumasa’s better ideas.” As you speak, Asaboo tugs on your leg again, looking up at you with a pitiful expression. “Oh, are you feeling left out?”

You reach down and run your gentle fingers along Asaboo’s head, rubbing alongside its ears. It has a smooth, rubbery texture, but if you press down harder, you can feel the vibration and stabilized heat of its whirring machinery beneath its exterior.

Harumasa watches you with a conflicted expression. “Why aren’t you this nice to me?”

“You’re not as cute as Asaboo,” you say resolutely, and Asaboo lets out a little “eh-nah” of agreement. 

Harumasa purses his lips. His eyes narrow at Asaboo, and it’s the exact same expression he has  right before he lets loose an arrow aimed for an Ethereal’s core. “I’m starting to regret this purchase.”

“You’re the one who brought them over. Asaboo hasn’t done anything wrong,” you say. 

“But you’re taking its side!” Harumasa protests. “Against me, your loyal partner! Our bond is forged through countless adversities in the Hollows, against the worst Ethereals New Eridu has ever seen! And you’re choosing a Bangboo over me!”

“Our relationship is strictly business. This is different,” you say, fingers dancing over the top of Asaboo’s ears as it lets out a content sigh. 

“Harumasa’s been replaced,” Miyabi murmurs.

“He’s been replaced,” Yanagi agrees. “Harumasamasa has been replaced!” Soukaku says cheerfully.

“There’s no need to rub it in…” Harumasa glances at your Bangboo, which is peacefully sitting on the floor in a patch of sunlight, staring out one of the windows, oblivious to the chaos around it. He crouches, and holds out his hand, as if to pat its head. “Hey there.” Your Bangboo immediately jumps up and scampers away without looking at Harumasa, resuming its vigil farther away.

“Rejected, even by a Bangboo,” Yanagi murmurs. “Asaba, I’m starting to feel bad for you.”

“Tsukishiro, if you say that, that’s just going to make me feel worse, you know?” Harumasa says ruthfully. “But it’s fine. We can just let them run around a little longer.”

The newest members of Section Six settle into the office with relative ease. The Bangboo are given free range around the office, though you notice that Soukaboo likes to sit near anyone with visible snacks, and Miyaboo is found in increasingly odder positions: on top of the door, hidden in a bookshelf, or tucked under a desk. 

Your Bangboo, on the other hand, is perfectly content to help deliver paperwork or coffee around the office, though it’s not immune from Miyaboo and Soukaboo pulling it into sudden games. Asaboo has no similar luck with your Bangboo, which seems to ignore Asaboo’s attempts to get close. There’s a hint of dissatisfaction in your Bangboo’s expression, though you can’t tell where it’s coming from. 

So Asaboo ends up waddling after you, settling right next to the side of your desk. Whenever you get up to grab a cup of coffee, discuss confidential information with other officers, or simply to stretch, Asaboo immediately jumps up to follow.

“Not interested in playing with the other Bangboo anymore?” you say. The other Bangboo are hopping around in the distance, bouncing a ball Soukaku pulled out from her desk back and forth.

“Eh-nah!” it says, puffing out its chest.

“Well, I’m happy to hang out with you, too.” You pat its head once more, and it gives a wiggle of delight.

“I’m also happy to hang out with you,” Harumasa adds. His desk is right next to yours, so it’s easy for him to see everything that’s going on. You glance at him, with his chair pushed back from his desk, feet propped up on the table, ankles crossed.

“Sure, but you’re not voluntarily spending time with me. We work together,” you respond dryly. You don’t miss how his mouth tugs into a pout, looking for all the world like a displeased cat which has been denied its favorite meal. 

Around lunchtime, when you pick up your packed lunch to head to the break room, Asaboo jumps up and down in the air, holding out its hands.

“Oh? Do you want to carry this for me?” you say, holding the package aloft.

It nods enthusiastically, ears flopping, and you gently place your lunchbox into its hands. Asaboo clutches the bundle to its chest like its most precious treasure, though it’s nothing more than some plastic containers set in a carrying case, with a handle that pops out that Asaboo loops its hand through.

“I could carry that for you,” Harumasa adds. His head is down on his desk, gazing at you through the fringe of his dark eyelashes. They’re unfairly long and pretty.

“Are you sure?” you say, raising your eyebrow. “I thought you said you weren’t capable of lifting anything heavier than a single sheet of paper.” 

“Well, I’m feeling a burst of strength today, so–” Harumasa raises himself from his desk and reaches out towards your lunchbox, but Asaboo leaps back before his hand can even graze it. 

“Eh-eh-nah!” it says defiantly. 

“Oh, you little–”

“Don’t bully Asaboo,” you scold, moving to stand in front of it. “Come on, Harumasa. It’s just a cute little Bangboo.” 

“It just made a face at me,” he says indignantly, throwing his hands up helplessly.

“Well, like you said, the data for its personality is based on you.”

With that, you and Asaboo head towards the break room, Asaboo wobbling behind you cheerfully the entire time. The break room itself is surprisingly spacious, with floor to ceiling windows, tasteful plants tucked in corners, and clusters of tables and cushy chairs scattered about. Various gleaming, stainless state of the art kitchen appliances are huddled in the corner. It’s one of the nicer break rooms you’ve seen, and you have HSO budget to thank for that.

Asaboo quickly runs to a table near one of the windows, and hops up to place your lunchbox on the table. It’s a quiet spot, away from the other officers, and the sunlight pleasantly warms the area.

“Did you choose this place on purpose? You’re so thoughtful,” you coo, and Asaboo ducks its head, raising its hands to cover its face in embarrassment. Really, when it reacts like that, it’s hard to imagine Asaboo derives its personality from Harumasa. It’s not as if Harumasa isn’t thoughtful; in fact, you have a feeling the presence of the Bangboo is his roundabout way to make everyone happy, somehow. 

But Harumasa, clinging to your leg, or following you everywhere? It’s hard to imagine. Is that how he really wants to act around you, or is it simply that Asaboo has its own individual quirks, separate from the influence of Harumasa’s personality data? Despite Yanagi’s earlier comment about how “telling” Asaboo’s reactions are, your own teasing, and Harumasa’s reticent response, it’s not a clear marker for Harumasa’s own feelings. 

You’re not sure you want to use Asaboo to measure Harumasa’s feelings, either. That brings up its own complications, especially regarding your own emotions towards Harumasa. It would be a lie to say that Asaboo being Harumasa’s Bangoo doesn’t make you extra sweet to it. Well, that and the mischievous desire in you to see Harumasa pout. After all, it’s payback for all the teasing you’ve endured from him since the two of you joined Section Six.

You enjoy a quiet lunch with Asaboo, though once you’re both back at the office and you’re settled at your desk, Asaboo lets out a little “eh-nah” when it sees Soukaku holding up a picture to her Bangboo, a crayon drawing of her and Soukaboo in a field of flowers, holding hands. It immediately leaps up and heads out the door. You don’t have time to wonder at its behavior, though, not when you have a mountain of tasks that’s piled up since you were away at lunch.

“Your loyal companion left. Want me to take its place?” Harumasa offers.

“Get back to work, Harumasa.”

Ten minutes later, you’re interrupted from your workflow by the patter of mechanical feet and something tugging at your leg.

You look down to see Asaboo, covered in mud and grass stains, a trail of dirty footprints behind it, and a proud expression on its face as it clutches a flower in its hand. In contrast to Asaboo’s appearance, the flower is pristine, with soft, pure yellow petals.

“Eh-nah!” Asaboo says. It holds the flower in your direction.

“Oh, Asaboo, where did you get this? Is this for me?” you ask. You gingerly take the flower from its hand, and Asaboo looks proudly at you.

“Eh-nah. Ehn-nah-nah!” It jumps up and down for emphasis. 

“I’ll cherish it forever,” you promise, and carefully place the flower on your desk. You’ll ask Soukaku to help you press it later so you can preserve it. Was that why Asaboo had been looking at Soukaku’s drawing? Because it was thinking of you?

“If you want flowers, I can give you some, too, without ripping up the building’s lawn,” Harumasa says. He looks at you sleepily, with that familiar pout curling around his mouth.

“Then why haven’t you?” you tease him. “Besides, think about it. If Asaboo gives me a flower, isn’t it essentially the same as if you gave me the flower yourself?”

“It’s completely different,” he protests. “It’s not like I knew you wanted flowers. And Asaboo isn’t me. If anything, it’s…” He brings a hand to his tie, which already hangs loose from his collar, and unconsciously slides the knot lower. 

“It’s what?” 

“The Bangoo weren’t meant to do any of this,” he says. 

“I thought you said these Bangboo were bought on a whim,” you say.

“I did. That’s not exactly wrong, but…” Harumasa hops up on your desk, perching on a spot free from papers or office supplies. He crosses his legs, and you swing your office chair in his direction. “Sometimes, if you have a bitter memory, you can overwrite it by facing it over and over until you get used to it and it’s no longer so painful, right? Like exposure therapy.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Asaboo, at some point, has slowly run off to find the other Bangboo. They circle each other and jump around, an innocent dance of happiness, though Asaboo is watching your Bangboo more intensely than anything else in the room.

“Are you talking about the time we were turned into Bangboo?” you venture. It’s a memory whose threat has faded with time, becoming less of a menace and more of a funny office story to relay to coworkers. Dangerous situations and odd circumstances come part and parcel with your job.

Still, you can remember the sensation of being a Bangboo with startling clarity: the virtual buildings of Lumina Square inflating in size around you, wobbling on legs you weren’t used to, unable to wield a weapon. When you lifted your hands, a shock would jolt through you to see metal and not limbs and fingers. It’s a feeling of helpless you aren’t eager to return to.

“I was the first to turn into a Bangboo,” Harumasa says ruthfully. “And I couldn’t do anything. I had to watch everyone fight, knowing every second we wasted was a second closer to death. I had to watch you put your life at risk to keep me safe, and I couldn’t do anything at all. Everyone here is strong, but…” He taps his fingers on your desk. “You all pretend to be fine when you’re really not.”

How long has this been on his mind? It must have been what Miyabi noticed right away, from the very moment Harumasa started showing off the Bangboo. You slowly cover his hand with one of your own, entangling your fingers together. The heavy fabric of his gloves brush against your bare fingers, but you can still feel the bump of his knuckles, the curve of the back of his hand.

No one else in the office can see the two of you right now, the front of your desk with your computer and stack of books and folders acting as a barrier from the rest of the world.

“Harumasa.” You dip a finger under his glove, to feel the tender, warm, uncertain flesh underneath and trace designs on the back of his hand. His breath hitches. “You don’t need to take on everything yourself. You also like to pretend you’re fine when you’re not; you can rely on us a little more.”

“So the Bangboo weren’t a good idea, huh?” The joke comes out light-hearted and weak.

“No, they’re very cute,” you say. “I really like them, even if you don’t. But if you want to overwrite bitter memories, I think we should all do it together.”

A heated intensity steals across Harumasa’s face, his attention on you as unwavering and steady as a shaft of blazing summer light. “Together? Do you promise that?”

He bends his head a little closer, and you tilt your head upwards in response. Whatever it is he offers, you’ll accept.

However, before either of you can make another move, there’s a great crash, metal slamming on cold tile, and you instantly rise from your seat to seek out the source of the noise. In the middle of the offic, you see Asaboo collapsed on the floor, sprawled over like a fallen egg on its side.

“Oh no,” you murmur. But before you can rush over, something astonishing happens. Your Bangboo, which previously has ignored Asaboo, immediately leaps to Asaboo’s side, patting its head with its hands.

“Ehn-nah,” your Bangboo says worriedly.

“Eh-ne-ne,” Asaboo says back in a faint tone.

Your Bangboo cradles Asaboo’s hand in its own as it helps Asaboo stand. Asaboo leans on your Bangboo, though you can’t help but feel Asaboo’s steps are a little too energetic as your Bangboo guides it out of the door, their hands entangled together the whole time, probably to find a charging port or a mechanic. 

“Huh? I thought their Bangboo didn’t like Asaboo!” Soukaku says. She jumps up from her chair. Miyabi and Yanagi are clustered around Soukaku’s desk, ostensibly discussing some business that’s been interrupted by the Bangboo drama. “It didn’t want to play with Asaboo before!”

“I wonder if their Bangboo was just shy towards Asaboo,” Yanagi theorizes. “Or it’s possible it was jealous, too, of Asaboo clinging to someone else.”

“It’s most likely both,” Miyabi says. “I believe it’s always cared for Asaboo, and Harumasa by extension, but would loathe to let everyone know the extent of its feelings.”

Your face heats up as everyone’s gazes swing towards you, like bright stage lights revealing you to an audience you didn’t realize was there. You don’t even want to look at Harumasa, still perched on your desk, because you can already imagine the smug, overly pleased expression on his face. 

“I think we should talk about something else,” you suggest hastily. “Don’t you think Asaboo’s behavior was a little strange?”

“As Asaboo’s owner and foremost expert,” Harumasa says, one hand cupped around his chin, “I think it’s obvious Asaboo was faking its sudden bout of dizziness in order to get the attention of your Bangboo.”

“Why does that sound exactly like something you would pull off?” you say. “Like owner, like Bangboo.”

“Speaking of… I feel a little faint… I think… I need to lean on you…” Harumasa, with no attempt to hide his theatrics, begins to lean strategically in your direction, face landing on your shoulder, slumping his entire body so his weight falls on you.

“Asaba Harumasa, can you at least pretend to hide your intentions?”

“Can’t hear you… Still dizzy… We need to hold hands or I’ll fall…” 

Harumasa reaches for your hand with surprising speed, but you tuck it behind your back so he can’t hold it. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you instead, and it takes all your willpower not to shove him off and onto the floor. 

You can still feel the gaze of your other coworkers upon you, and hear the whisper of their conversation, though they aren’t making any effort to hide their comments.

“They’re embarrassed,” Miyabi says quietly.

“They’re very embarrassed,” Yanagi says.

“Super embarrassed!” Soukaku chirps. You close your eyes, face still hot. From now on, you’re not going to underestimate Harumasa’s or Asaboo’s capacity for cunning. As cute as the Bangboo are, maybe they are more trouble than they’re worth.

[miley1442111]

hi!!! Can you do a Spencer Reid x fem reader where she doesn't work for the bau and meets the team for the first time and her and Spencer are just so in love and practically attached at the hip, sharing drinks, holding hands, and just being so cute and the team is shocked and teases Spencer about her and how he acts with her but they are so happy for him

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you make me happy- s.reid

-------------------

-------------------

a/n: i love this idea!!! thank you so much for requesting :)

summary: spencer acts different around you and it shocks the team

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: none

-------------------

Everyone on the team was shocked. They’d just decided to go out for drinks after a case, and there you were, Spencer’s girlfriend. 

What?

-------------------

It had been an awful week at your job, your asshole boss was being an asshole, your creepy co-worker followed you to your car, someone else took credit for your work in the project you just wrapped, and on top of it Spencer was away all week. 

But there he was, in the same bar as this stupid wrap party.

He sent you over a drink, labelling it from ‘your secret admirer’, and when you caught his eye you both smiled and waved at each other, happy to know he was back and you could be together again. Even if ‘being together’ meant staring at each other from across the bar and texting under the table. 

You: Thank you for the drink :)

Spencer: It's no problem, sorry I was gone all week. How was work? (I’m not sure how to do the smiley-face thing, sorry!)

You: It was awful :( I’ll tell you about it later, have a fun night love you! Gtg

Spencer: what does ‘gtg’ mean?

You: Lol, ‘got to go’.

Spencer: what’s ‘lol’

You: ‘laugh out loud’

“Y/n!” your friend shook you away from your phone.

“Yes?” you answered, hastily putting it back in your bag. 

“There’s a guy on that table that is totally checking you out,” she smirked. “Finally ready to end this dry-spell?”

“I already told you I’m not looking for anything right now,” you sighed. “I’m happy how I am.”

None of your work friends knew about you and Spencer, mostly because you weren't really close with them and in part because they’re the nosiest people known to man. 

“Fine, suit yourself,” she rolled her eyes and continued the conversation with the rest of the table. You looked in the direction of Spencer’s table and only saw him in front of you. 

“Hi,” he smiled, waving awkwardly.

“Hi,” you smiled back, heat creeping up your face as you felt all eyes on the table turn to you and Spencer. 

“I want you to meet some people, is that ok?” he asked and you nodded. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you smiled at the rest of your table. Spencer held your hand in his as you walked back to the table to be met with six pairs of eyes trained on the two of you. 

“Well, this is my girlfriend,” Spencer admitted sheepishly as jaws dropped. 

A chorus of  “Since when?”, “why didn’t you tell us?”, “how long?”, and “how did you pull her?” started and you just chuckled as Spencer’s face became increasingly red. 

“Guys! Stop!” he laughed. “I’ll answer your questions just maybe… introduce yourselves first?” 

“I’m Derek Morgan,” he sent you a wink and you chuckled.

“Aaron Hotchner,” he held out his hand to be shook, and you took it. He’s definitely the father-figure of the group.

“Penelope Garcia, I cannot wait to invite you on our girls trips, you will just adore-”

“Pen,” Spencer sighed, a certain desperation in his voice that made you squeeze his hand, assuring him that it’s alright. 

“Emily Prentiss,” she shook your hand. 

“Jennifer Jareau but everyone calls me Jj.” 

“David Rossi.”

“And of course, you know Spencer,” Derek smiled.

You sat beside Spencer and introduced yourself and the questions started pouring in. As you sat beside him, Spencer’s hand circled your waist and he held you close to him, his hands all over you. 

“Where did you meet?” Derek asked. 

“At the library,” Spencer answered. “We were… arguing over a translation in a book. She was right but-”

“What language?” Emily asked. 

“German,” you smiled. “I’m fluent.”

“Are you from Germany?” She asked. 

“No, I just learnt it when I was a kid. My parents were professors of language when I was a kid so they just made me learn as many as possible.”

Spencer’s hands moved from your waist slowly down to your hips and he pressed a mindless kiss to your shoulder as the conversation went from your relationship to other things. He was all over you all night and you didn’t even mind. He drank from your drink, his eyes were more often than not focused on you, his hands were all over you, to say it was jarring for the team would've been an understatement. He'd never been one for physical touch, but here he was, practically draped over you.

-------------------

At one point, he went to the bathroom and all eyes were on you again.

“Is he… Is he usually like that?” Derek smirked. 

“Like what?” You asked.

“All over you?” Derek chuckled. “I mean the kid barely lets us touch the things on his desk, let alone touch him.”

You shrugged. “He just… doesn’t mind when it’s me, I guess.”

The team shared a smile with each other and you felt even more self-conscious. “What?”

“He really likes you,” Aaron smiled. “It’s just nice to know that he’s… happy. Especially after all he’s been through.”

You felt a sense of pride in your chest and you smiled back at them. 

“What did I miss?” Spencer asked, sitting beside you again. 

“Nothing much, just questioning your girl on your habits. I had no idea you still slept with the light on-” Derek teased but Spencer shut his mouth by shoving him over.

-------------------

The rest of the night was full of laughter until Spencer and you drove home. You stepped inside the house and toed off your shoes, then turned to Spencer, kissing him heavily. His hands landed on your ass, softly kneading the flesh there. 

When you pulled away, you two were already at the couch and he was under you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled. “So… what did you think?” he asked nervously.

“I thought they were wonderful,” you smiled and kissed him again, softer this time. 

Spencer smiled. “Good. I really wanted you to like them.”

“Well I do,” you smiled.

“What did you talk about when I went to the bathroom?” He asked, his hands wandering up your body to brush some hair out of your face.

“Oh just the usual, our sex life-” you teased but he cut you off with a groan and let his head fall back against the couch.

“Please tell me you’re joking?”

“I am,” you chuckled. “They said they were happy that you’re happy. They’re happy that I make you happy.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “That’s not too bad then,” he smiled and there was a charged silence for a few moments. You two just looked at each other, drinking each other in.

“They’re right,” Spencer suddenly spoke up.

“What?” you asked. 

“You make me happy. Very happy,” he smiled and you swear you could’ve cried. 

“You make me happy too,” you smiled through misty eyes. 

You two didn’t need to talk anymore. You both knew what it meant. You were in love.

His lips pressed against your for the third time that night.

-------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[venomvalley]

you and sevika share a double-sided dildo.

18+ only (pwp, sex toys, ass play, whiny!sev)

Sevika is an amazing lover. Attentive, accommodating, adaptable. She gives you what you want, and more importantly, she gives you what you need. But your favorite thing about having sex with her?

She's adventurous. Every week, introducing something new to the bedroom just for the hell of it. Bindings, impact play, anal, toys upon toys of all shapes and sizes and uses. Vibrators and dildos and butt plugs, and it's a good thing that you each have your own preferences for bottoming or else you might fight over who gets to do it.

Which gave her the idea that led the two of you here: flat on her back, knees tucked toward her chest as you bounce on one end of the double-sided dildo stuffed inside her pussy. She has the perfect view of your ass, of the way you swallow down the toy, silicone slick after your first orgasm.

At first, you didn't understand the appeal of using this thing. It seemed more inconvenient than sexy to find a good position that accommodated both of you. But now? Oh, you get it. Like you're both fucking each other, the toy rocking inside you with each desperate tilt of her hips (as best she can folded up). You bottom out and her puffy pussy grinds against yours, the pad of her thumb circling wet over your other hole.

You shudder out a moan, arching back against her touch, begging for it. "Fuck, please, Sev, just—"

Her thumb slides into your ass up to the first knuckle, and you collapse forward on your elbows. She plants her feet on the bed and rocks up into you with a breathy whine, spreading her other fingers over your asscheek to guide your movements, meeting her thrust-for-thrust.

Beneath the skin, you simmer to a boil, nerves alight with sensation. Too much and not enough and just right all at the same time. You press your calves against each side of her body to add strength behind each bounce of your hips. The mattress squeaks out a familiar rhythm, just barely drowning out the squelch of your wet cunts and the slap of your ass against her pelvis.

She's loud tonight, sensitive. Mocks you for being so wet, babbles about how pretty you look stretched around her cock, whines when your thumb catches on her fat clit. It's cute, really. How hard she tries to remain in control even after you reduce her to putty beneath you. A sweaty mess of pleasure.

Heat builds in the pit of your belly as she rocks even harder against you, until each slam of her hips jolts your body. Behind you, her breathing heavies and stutters, pussy fluttering around the toy.

She grits out a, "Fuck, I'm—"

And you're gone. The orgasm that travels up your spine rends you bone-deep, freezes the breath in your lungs. Full-body and languid, muscles giving out beneath the onslaught of purring pleasure.

You come down from your high panting, face-first in the sheets. Sevika doesn't sound much better than you, her hand soothing over the swell of your ass as she huffs and sighs.

Usually, you engage in some teasing banter after a good round of sex, but your thighs are killing you and Sevika's made a gushing mess of your ass and thighs and the sheets beneath her. So you'll save it for later.

For now, you discard the toy at the end of the bed and shove her out of the wet spot for a lazy cuddle.

"I need a nap," you grumble, cheek squished against the curve of her shoulder.

She grumbles in agreement, then immediately relaxes beneath you. Already asleep.

[classypauli]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

Chapter 6

MASTERLIST

tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: Last night was… well it just was. And Tara wasn’t really happy about it, clearly.

tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, hangover y/n, angry tara, jelous, jealous, jealous

Tara always got what she wanted. Always. Did she think she was spoiled? No, not really. She didn´t think she was spoiled, she just hated the idea of not getting what she wanted and everyone around her knew it. Especially her sister.

She and Sam were the same yet so different. They looked the same, cared for one another the same and almost enjoyed the same things. But what they didn´t share was opinions and judgment. The viewing of the world and its look. The sentiment. But at the end of the day, things were thrown into the trash because they had nothing to do with love.

They would do first and last for each other.

These were the things that the young Carpenter appreciated the most. Having family and friends that she could rely on and trust. She would do anything to protect her circle of the people she loves. Why was she even thinking that way right now?

Because of her.

At the time Tara got home she already scrutinized the girl. Found out her name and birthday, her family and the names of her friends as well as her pet, which was by the way pretty cute but Tara didn´t want to get distracted and soft by that idea.

She checked who she follows and...

„This bitch.“ Tara whispered under her breath after she found your account in her following list. Of course, she already did that. Tara wouldn´t be surprised if she already texted you. Her fists clenched at that thought.

Her finger pressed the small round photo of yours to get into your page. Your photos and highlights loaded and Tara started to stalk. No, she wasn´t a stalker and she definitely wasn´t stalking you, she was just looking for her friend.

Friend.

That´s what you are now? To Tara you have always been someone close to her friends, you were in her friend group but she never took you as a friend. She got feeling she wasn´t your friend either but... she needed to take care of you because of her friends, no?

She clicked on the last post of yours which were some random photos you took like school and coffee, there was even Ethan who looked like he didn´t enjoy being photographed, the last photo was you with a headset around your head doing some weird faces.

You were pretty cute, yeah so what? She finally said that but that doesn´t mean you aren´t getting on her nerves every time you open your stupid mouth.

„Your right dimple is deeper than the left one.“

Tara´s corners of her mouth got up a little.

After that, she pressed the button of the comments. Chad was laughing at Ethan and also Ethan cursing you. The last comment is what made Tara´s smile drop. It was from that girl, an emoji with a heart in her eyes.

Liked by the author.

Sam was minding her business in the next room when she suddenly heard a loud sound coming from her younger sister´s room.

„What the hell is she doing?“

-

The bright sun shining through the window right into your eyes was the first thing your brain processed. Maybe if you were a little bit smarter last night and didn´t drink like an alcoholic you would be in a better state.

„Ugh someone help.“ you rolled on the side of your bed and stood up. You felt disgusting you smelled bad and your hair was everywhere. The clothes from the night before were still on you only now they looked all folded and wet from your sweat.

You grabbed your phone that was on your table seeing a lot of unopened messages as well as a low battery. Suddenly it started ringing signalizing a phone call.

„Hello?“ you said with your throat hurting a little.

„Y/N? Hey buddy, you okay?“

„I´m fine Ethan, I just woke up what´s up?“

„Oh, sorry! I was just a little worried about you I didn´t see you yesterday leaving and also didn´t hear from you so I just wanted to check.“ he said with a quick explanation.

„Oh I just drank a little more than I should have yesterday.“ you laughed a little still with not much energy. You just wanted to take a shower and go to bed again.

„You don´t feel fine? Should I come? I-“

„No Ethan it´s fine, I´m fine just a little exhausted but nothing serious. Don´t stress yourself.“

„Oh.“ he said quietly trying to read your voice. „If you say so, but if anything just text me, okay? I want to be here for my friend.“

You smiled at his words. No doubt he was your best friend. „Of course. Thanks, buddy.“

You grabbed new clothes and went straight to the shower. It was like an invisible relief that was washed off of you. After that, you put on some sweatpants with a hoodie and went to lie down again. Suddenly your phone lit up with a new message.

Demi: Hey you ok? I was worried ab you last night

Demi: when you wake up text me

Demi: Y/N

It was Demitra? Were you that much wasted that everybody knows it or what? Oh Gosh, you prayed that you didn´t do anything embarrassing what will everybody remember for the rest of their lives when they look at you?

And even though, why was she so worried, it wasn´t like you knew each other that long. But it was good to have someone to worry about you except your best friend.

Y/N: hey sorry to worry!

Y/N: everything fine promise

She immediately saw your text and replied to you. You spent a pretty long time just texting and lying around, having no energy to do anything more. Demitra was a good girl. She was attentive and soft-spoken. You weren´t an idiot, you saw that she was interested in you, otherwise she wouldn´t try to talk to you every time she saw you or texted you, right?

But was she someone you would go out? You´ve never thought about it not anyone. Maybe it was time to finally step up from this introverted state and go to see some new people. Who knows, maybe it will lead to her. The question is, would you be mad about it?

-

The knock on your door was a thing that tore you off of watching the TV. You kept lying down with a confused face. But the knock was there again only this time louder.

„Are you serious.“ you got up not wanting to leave your comfortable couch. Behind your door was Mindy and Chad with Ethan and behind him Tara.

„And what are you doing here huh?“ you asked as you opened the door wider for them to come in.

„Why are you asking so offended do you have someone in here?“ Chad said with a smirk on his face.

„Y/N why the hell is so dark in here? I feel like I´m in a cave!“ Mindy yelled as she went to your window to unfold the curtains.

Tara turned around and scrunched her nose. „Ew it smells so bad in here, do you ever open your windows?“

„Oh my and this trash, when was the last time you cleaned your house Y/N?“ Chad asked. Your nerves were getting higher with each word that left their mouth. Did you come to annoy you?

„You came here just to get on my nerves or what?“

„Y/N I bought you a soup.“ you turned to Ethan who was standing across the room with a small can of food. He was so cute that you would never forgive yourself if you said something hurtful.

„Thanks, Ethan you are the best.“

Chad sat down on your couch taking a controller into his hand. „And I´m not?“

„No, you are an idiot.“ you smiled vacantly at him. „And anyway weren´t you also drunk last night?“ you asked him.

„Well yeah but I guess I can just handle it better than you.“ he smiled.

„Handle it better my ass.“ you whispered under your breath with an annoyed look.

-

„How do you feel?“

You turned to the side seeing Tara leaning by the kitchen door. Her arms were folded and her eyes were focused on you.

„Fine, I guess.“ you said as you took another spoon of Ethan´s soup into your mouth.

She higher up her eyebrows as if she didn´t believe you. „I´m pretty surprised, you were like a different person last night.“ Your eyes widen at her words.

„No I wasn´t! I was completely fine!“

„Raising your voice is only making me sure that you don´t remember a thing.“ she unfolded her arms and went into your fridge.

„Yeah I forgot that you know everything.“ you shot her an angry look. „And what do you think you are doing?“

„Serving myself?“ she grabbed some snack that was there opened it and took a bite. „And yeah, I know because I was taking care of your drunk ass yesterday you idiot.

„So what? You want me to thank you?“ you looked at her with face puppy dog eyes. She rolled your eyes at your child's behavior.

„That´s what it should be.“

„Yeah like hell that I will thank someone like you. I don´t remember it so I´m taking it like it never happened to shut your short ass up.“

„What did you say you moron?“ she ran to you and slapped your shoulder with all her strength.

„Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?“ you stood up looking down at her with anger across your face.

„Me? You are the one that doesn´t have the basics or polite behavior!“ she yelled into your face with her big brown eyes standing almost on her tippy toes to look more intimidating.

„Will you two stop it´s getting annoying!“ Mindy yelled from the living room. You huffed before you grabbed the plate with your soup to leave.

Tara looked down at her hand and then looked at you. „Great now I have to use hand sanitizer!“

You pleased all the angels and every creature that can hear you for your help not to throw that soup at her at that moment.

-

Tara was sitting on your couch beside Mindy. You all were watching some show that was already on when they came in. Your eyes were barely open leaning your head on Ethan´s shoulder. Without her noticing Tara smiled a little at sigh.

„Can someone pass me that please?“ you asked with a low voice pointing at the snack that was on a table in front of you.

„You can get it yourself.“ Tara mumbled.

„But I said please!“

„So? That means you will get whatever you want?“

You just sighed at her words yet not changing your position. Ethan bent over to get it for you but before his hand was able to get it someone else already did that.

Tara grabbed the snack and threw it on you. Then she turned to watch the show again without any word like nothing happened. You just caught the snack with a small thank you. Everyone in the room saw this small interaction. Of course, they did it didn´t happen a lot of times that you two acted like friends, not like enemies. So whenever this happens they smile a little having some kind of calmness in their chests.

After the show, everyone went somewhere in the house leaving Tara still in the place. She was scrolling down on her phone out of boredom when suddenly your phone rang with a notification. That caught the brunette's attention. It was a message from the Instagram dm´s.

The girl looked up if someone was coming before taking your phone into her hands. Demi. Demi?! You were texting each other? Who did text first? Was it her? And what did you even talk about?

Tara desperately wanted you to just block her, she was no good. Tara hated her with all her heart.

This bitch just can´t get off, can she?!

[fairyofhee]

ONE OF YOUR GIRLS.

PAIRING. heeseung x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS. It was difficult to contradict the rumors of you being obsessed with Lee Heeseung. But it was all true that you had a huge crush and a few wild fantasies about him. You were aware of his infamous reputation of how many girls he’s taken to his bed, yet you still wanted to be one of his.

WARNINGS. angst, fluff, contains smut! MINORS DNI. first time, fingering, unprotected sex, pull-out method. 7k words.

It started happening a few days ago when you heard the whispers of people making unsettling remarks about you. Apparently, you were obsessed with Lee Heeseung.

But the rumors were not true. You barely acknowledged Lee Heeseung’s existence, you certainly do not have the biggest crush on him, and most definitely didn’t have the fantasy to fuck him. These are wild statements to come out of someone’s mouth, but those were just rumors.

Well, that’s what you wanted people to think. It’s true that you have a crush on Heeseung, a huge one that gives you constant butterflies, in fact. It started off as small feelings in middle school because you just found him cute. Then in high school, you started to gain real feelings, an admiration for him. He was the smartest dude in school, the captain of the basketball team, and he was always soft spoken and sweet to anyone he talked to. It was impossible not to fall for him.

With all these years of having these feelings, you barely talked to him, even if being in the same circle of friends. Though, things started to change this school year. The friend group started to hang out often since ways would be parted for college next year. You and Heeseung started talking more and you even got to know each other better, which made you hopeful for something more.

But soon, you were met with bitterness, a feeling close to heartbreak. He started getting distant from everyone — especially from you. You overheard from the chatters around school that Heeseung was a major fuckboy now who slept with the girls at school. You never judged him, despite the aches in your chest that it caused.

The girls who slept with him would brag about how good he was. Heeseung, the sweet guy he is, was the sweetest in bed. And as much as it tarnishes your self worth and disregards the deep feelings you have, you didn’t mind the idea of being his just for one night, let alone a few hours.

You just wanted to be one of his girls.

You slammed your locker closed and was met with Heeseung who had a sly grin on his face.

“So, should I take you to my place tonight? Or do you prefer if I take you on a date first?”

You haven’t talked to him in a week and there was no doubt that he heard about the rumors — the rumors that he had no idea were true.

“What are you talking about?” You said with a hint of defensiveness. You quickly softened your expression to make up for your attitude, you were just tired of everyone talking about you.

“Nothing,” Heeseung shook his head, “I’m just teasing you. I heard what people are saying.”

“None of it is true,” You lied.

He let out a low laugh, which caused your heart to drop in fear. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they were.”

You gently push his shoulder and Heeseung quickly gets rid of the smirk on his face. “Stop joking around, a lot of people are already on my ass about it. And everyone knows you have a different girl in your bed every week, it just makes me seem twice as desperate.” You playfully say, taking the situation less seriously as Heeseung is.

You watched as his gaze fell to the floor. Were you wrong to bring up his reputation?

Heeseung scratched his head before meeting your eyes, “It’s just rumors and they will go away soon,” he spoke matter-of-factly.

“I’ll see you tonight at the bonfire?”

You scoff and shake your head. “I probably won’t go anymore because of what people are saying.”

He notices hurt evident on your face, but he smiles anyway. “If the rumors aren’t true then don’t let it bother you,” he takes a step closer and you start to feel your heart pound. “I’ll try to find out who started it, but I better see you tonight.”

At that he leaves, and there it was, the feeling of butterflies floating around in your stomach. His assurance makes you feel better.

It was impossible to hide how widely you smiled and how heated your cheeks felt. He was just being a kind and caring friend, yet it was impossible not to fall for him.

Bonfires were held by the school to celebrate the wins of the basketball team. You always had a great time hanging out with your friends, meeting new people, and supporting the team. Though, it also wasn’t fun to always watch the team captain stick his tongue down someone’s throat and completely disappearing before the night ended.

You decided to attend the one held tonight, although things would be different. There will be people who are constantly going to talk about you or maybe even say things directly to your face.

On the way to the bonfire, you thought about the last words Heeseung said to you at school before he left your locker. These stupid remarks that people are saying will eventually go away. But you still had no idea who would start these rumors.

You thought that you hid your feelings pretty well by not telling anyone, not even your closest friends. Maybe you were just too obvious.

“What if someone humiliates me tonight?” You walked down the beach with Hana, having a churned feeling in your gut.

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Hana softly says while wrapping a blanket around you. “The boys will literally kick someone’s ass, you know how protective they are of you.”

You thank Hana for helping you ease up. You let go of your uneasy thoughts, Heeseung is expecting to see you which matters right now.

“You guys made it,” Jake got up from his seat to hug you and Hana. You look around and take in your surroundings. There were more people than you expected. Sunghoon and Jay were sitting down around the campfire along with a few students from school that you recognized.

Noticing that Heeseung wasn’t here, you press your lips in a small frown, already thinking about the worst of where he may be.

“Where’s Heeseung? Did he already leave with someone tonight?” You ask Jake in a playful manner, preparing your disappointment if he already had disappeared with someone else.

“No,” Jake laughed, “The basketball team snuck in booze so he’s helping with that. He’ll be back.”

You nod and try to hide the evident sigh of relief that was let out. “Forget that I asked,” you laughed before going around the campfire to greet Sunghoon and Jay.

“Are you okay?” Jay asked. “I’m fine, I’m just gonna hang for now and probably get a drink later,” you said, taking a seat in an empty space. You recognize the person sitting to the left of you, he was definitely a player of the basketball team.

“Hey, aren’t you suppose to help-“

“Have you fucked the captain yet?”

You heard the boy say as his lips turn into a sneer, and you started to chuckle nervously, the question catching you off-guard but it was expected right? You and your obsession with Heeseung was the talk of the town this week.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” You groaned out. Before the boy could answer, he was lightly smacked in the head. “Hey, leave her alone,” announced a familiar voice from behind you.

It was Heeseung with an agitated look on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel your lips slightly upturn into a grin. You watched as Heeseung took a seat, separating you and his teammate.

The action made your heart warm.

“When did you get here?” The irritated look on his face changed as he smiled fondly.

“I just got here with Hana.”

Heeseung nods before initiating small tension of silence. You notice him carefully bringing his stare to you. It was as if he using his eyes to trace every detail on your face and this freaked you out.

“Is there something on my face?” You questioned anxiously, hoping that you didn’t actually have anything on your face because it would be embarrassing, especially in front of your crush that you’re trying to impress.

Heeseung shook his head and chuckled. “No, I’m just glad you’re here,” he softly said.

A shit eating grin appeared from his response and you were flustered, your face possibly super red.

“Am I missing something?” You giggled, in disbelief of the words coming out of his mouth.

You were happy to know that he’s glad to see you, you actually wanted to scream, but you were also a bit confused on why he suddenly felt this way.

He was a fuckboy and this was probably his way of taking his girls to bed, not that you minded because this is what you want — a chance to be his for one night, but something felt off.

“All of a sudden you’re happy to be around me,” you lightly shrugged while taking a moment to get lost in his wide eyes, “What’s going on?”

His throat bobbled before he forced out a laugh, “Nothing’s going on. I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay after what people are saying.”

You didn’t know why, but you had a hard time believing him. You had a feeling that he wasn’t telling the truth. “Thank you-“

“We’re gonna play truth or drink.”

You drew your attention away from Heeseung when Hana was in front of you.

“I’ll pass,” you tell her.

Hana crosses her arms and pouts, “Just play for one round then you can go back to- whatever,” she turned her gaze to Heeseung who was awfully sitting closer than you remember. Hana notices the close proximity but doesn’t comment on it, instead, she’s waiting for you to answer.

“Why are we playing truth or drink?”

Hana grins, “The boys suggested it because they’re bored and the booze hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“Fine, but just one round,” you warn.

Hana happily takes a seat next to you with Heeseung still on your left. You watch your friends and a few familiar people around the campfire get comfortable before the game starts.

“Heeseung,” Sunghoon managed to get everyone’s attention, “Can I ask you first?”

You turn to face Heeseung who swallowed as he sat up to unintentionally fix his posture. “Sure,” he said without hesitation.

“Alright, let me think,” Sunghoon muttered.

“When was the last time you slept with someone?” There was a hint of tease in his voice.

Heeseung eyes got a bit wider while the question caused the others to ‘ooh’ like children. You, however, felt your stomach twist. You were curious, but also didn’t need a reminder that the guy you have feelings for is sleeping around with most of the girls at school but you.

You feel your brows furrow when Heeseung locked eyes with you for a moment before he finally spoke out his answer. “A month ago.”

You tried to give out a quiet laugh, but Heeseung heard and quizzically tilted his head at your reaction. “You’re lying,” you murmured.

Heeseung peered intently at you, he was taken aback. “It’s the truth,” he cleared his throat.

You almost feel bad, but you skeptically stared at him, “I have a hard time believing that.”

His expression turned into a more serious one, and you suddenly felt a sense of nervousness wash over you. Have you struck a nerve?

“I’m sorry,” you said as he went silent, “It’s just hard to believe that the biggest fuckboy at school would go a month without sex.”

You and the others who heard everything shared a look as Heeseung snickered. You turned to face him and this time he was closer. There was an uncomfortable closeness. He was intimidating, and you felt your breath hitch, regretting the words that came out of your mouth.

“How many times are you gonna mention me being a ‘fuckboy’ and the girls in my bed?” The change of tone in his voice was almost scary.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” You shake your head and try to apologize. You acted out of jealously and bitterness. “Heeseung-“

“I answered. Who’s turn is it?” he interjected while looking around to continue the game. Thankfully, no one made a single comment to what was heard. Jake proceeded with the game by asking the girl next to him a question.

You cursed under your breath knowing that it was wrong to not believe Heeseung’s answer and to bring up his reputation about his sex life. Not wanting things to be weird, you attempt to apologize again but was met with hard silence.

After a moment of listening to your friends play the game that you forgot was occurring, Heeseung finally looks back at you and there was something in his gaze you had never seen.

“Are you jealous because you want to fuck me?” He mutters lowly for only you to hear.

You freeze completely.

The intensity in his stare and the sensual tone in his voice made you feel something that you have never felt before when he spoke to you.

“T-that’s not true,” you stuttered, trying to ignore how hot your ears and cheeks felt.

You felt as if you were caught and the truth of yours was finally going to come out. You weren’t ready to tell Heeseung about your feelings, you weren’t even sure if you’re going to confess.

“I know,” Heeseung softly lets out with a quick change of expression. He grins, noticing your flushed face. “I’m sorry, it was just a joke. I just like seeing you flustered,” he admits.

You playfully push his shoulder just as you did when he was at your locker earlier today. You let out a huge sigh of content that he wasn’t super pissed about the comments you made. But why was he always playing around with you?

“Y/N, your turn.” Someone from your class blurted out which caused your head to shoot up.

“What’s your question?” You uttered.

Your classmate took a pause to think of a suitable question to ask. “Are you currently seeing or dating anyone?” They finally spoke.

“I am not,” you said easily.

“That’s good to know,” a voice said and you swore it came from the left of you, but you weren’t certain. Suddenly, you notice everyone looking at the boy next to Heeseung, the one who spoke to you earlier, with faces of terror.

“What did you say?” You asked the basketball player with a slight anxious tone to your voice.

Along with everyone around the campfire, Heeseung had his eyes glued to his teammate.

“I said that it’s good to know you’re single,” He said with an exasperated voice.

The comment made you feel a bit irked, but your focus was on everyone whispering and some even laughing before they quickly moved on.

“She’s lying,” you heard another sudden voice blurt out. This time, the voice sounded clear and close. “She’s taken by me,” Heeseung declared, not sparing you a glance.

“What?” You exclaimed, feeling your heart beat rapidly to the point that you didn’t notice Hana trying to speak to you. “Heeseung, stop,” you urged, knowing that he was playing around again.

Heeseung ignored you and instead, nodded his head, “We’ve been dating for awhile now.”

“Stop fucking around again, it’s not funny,” You pleaded while grabbing onto his arm to get his attention. He finally met your eye contact but kept going with his act by appearing to be upset.

“Baby, come on.” He whined out, practically begging with his big doe eyes.

You would usually feel the butterflies in your stomach, but this was different. You started to wonder why he treated everything as a joke. And it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t aware of your feelings, but he was really torturing you.

“Is that why you made up those rumors?”

Heeseung glanced over your head as your eyes widened at the sudden statement. You turned around and surprise crossed Jake’s face.

“You made things up to soft launch your relationship?” Jake continued, directly speaking to Heeseung.

You take a second to process Jake’s words and the look Heeseung gave him. All you can do is inquisitively raise your brow at Heeseung, while trying to get rid of the huge lump in your throat.

“What is he saying?” You softly asked, trying to ignore the heavily feeling in your chest. Heeseung opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it.

“You made up those rumors?” You raised your voice, trying to get an answer out of him, but there was nothing so you get up from your seat and stand before him.

“Do you know how many people at school have humiliated me?” You choked out as the realization hits you. You were betrayed by your own friend who happened to be the one guy that you have intense feelings for. “Why did you do it?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Heeseung stands and attempts to hold your arm but you quickly pull away.

You shook your head fervently, “That’s all you have to say? Why are you doing this to me?”

Lee Heeseung always gave you a sense of what heartbreak felt like. The way most girls had a taste of him and how he betrayed you.

Was it wrong to not believe that he was hurting you? Maybe you were obsessed with him.

“I’ll bring you home,” Hana reaches out for your hand and leads the way to the car, both of you leaving the bonfire after saying quick goodbyes to your confused friends. You felt humiliated enough and just wanted to go home.

You hear Heeseung practically chasing after you, “Wait,” he pleads, voice cracking lowly.

“Why did you do it?” You let out, blinking back incoming tears because you weren’t going to cry.

“You’re always fucking around with me and I didn’t do shit to you,” the pain in your voice was so evident that Heeseung shook his head, an array of emotions flurrying across his face.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” he gently said.

As much as it hurts, you said nothing and got inside the car, leaving Heeseung feeling like complete shit. You repeatedly asked the same question, yet it was always dodged. To you, it wasn’t worth to fight for an answer anymore.

On the way home you confessed to Hana about your crush. She wasn’t all that surprised because yeah, you were just too obvious about it.

Now you were in bed, trying to forget all that is Lee Heeseung, but it was too damn hard. Your stupid crush as you call it, felt more than a simple crush. That invisible pull he had on you was too strong and it seemed impossible to move on.

You wonder if he were ever going to apologize, were you going to forgive him quickly?

The thought of moving on continued until you felt your eyes closed and drifted to sleep. But suddenly, you heard a few taps on the window which caused your eyes to snap open.

Surprised and super tense, you ran to your window and hesitatingly open your blinds to reveal Heeseung standing outside on your balcony. He had that same look on his face when didn’t spare him a chance to speak before getting inside the car. You open your window to let him in, praying that you weren't loud enough to wake your parents up who were asleep down the hall.

“You scared me,” you whispered, watching him enter your room through the window with ease. You quickly cross your arms, feeling a bit exposed in just silk pajama pants and a tank top.

“What are you doing here?” You panic as he scans your room. “My parents are sleeping and-“

“I’m sorry I made up those rumors,” he interrupts, face dropping in hurt as he stands before you. You narrowed your eyes at him, realizing how close he was standing. It was difficult to keep your heart steady, you didn’t even have time to process that Lee Heeseung was in your room.

“Why did you do it?” You ask the same question once more, hoping he answers this time.

“I did it because I wanted your attention,” his throat bobbles. “It’s actually really fucking stupid,” Heeseung sighs hard as you attentively listen, not fully understanding his words.

“I like you a lot and I thought that these rumors would bring us closer together,” he confesses. “It’s so stupid, I don’t know why I thought that.”

Your breath hitches as your arms drop. This new information is hitting you with surprise, causing you to take a tentative step forward, “You like me?” You couldn’t believe him.

Heeseung nods, “I’ve liked you for a while,” he huffs and glances away. “I started sleeping around to distract myself from you, and I tried getting rid of my feelings because I knew you wouldn’t like me back,” a laugh was let out.

Your mouth falls open, but you were speechless. The boy you’re practically in love with is reciprocating his feelings and he left you momentarily stunned as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through your veins.

“Heeseung,” you shake your head, having a difficult time comprehending what you’ve heard.

“Wait,” he brings both hands to each of your bare shoulders. “It’s true that I’ve stopped seeing other girls. Whenever I was with them I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he pauses and grins for a moment, “So I had to stop.”

“You sound insane right now,” you let out without thought and he sighed with a nod, “And you made me look like a fool and an obsessive freak.”

He nodded again while removing his hands, “I know and I’m really sorry for doing that to you. And I’m sorry for what I pulled at the bonfire, it was wrong to lie like that in front of everyone.”

You crossed your arms, “The rumors you said-“

“What I said about you was fucked up.”

A frown fell upon him as you stare into his eyes. You knew he was genuine with his words — he wouldn’t have snuck into your room and risk getting you both caught if he wasn’t.

You slowly step forward, cupping his face with a hand and taking the chance to finally close the gap between you two, capturing his lips in a kiss. You heard him let out a gasp when he felt your lips on his. Heeseung easily melts into you while returning your kiss, and you can’t help but smile, finally kissing him after wanting him for so long.

You were the first one to pull away when air became necessary, “What you said was all true.”

He furrowed his brows, unable to find words to say anything. The redness of his ears makes you giggle, it was cute to see how shy he was.

“I like you too and I thought about being with you,” you interlock your hand with his, never leaving his gaze. “I thought about it a lot actually,” you remove the hair in your face, “Whenever I heard that you were with someone else.”

Heeseung tried to gather the courage to speak. According to his words, he’d never thought that you would feel the same way. To express what he was feeling inside, he brought his lips to yours for a quick kiss before pulling away.

“What fantasies do you have of me?”

The question causes you to hide your face in embarrassment, but Heeseung quickly removes your hands, regretting his pestering remark.

“I’m truly sorry, I’ll make sure people at school will stop talking about you. I did something very shitty and you don’t deserve it,” he admits.

“I forgive you,” you bury your face in Heeseung’s shoulder, “Only because I’m an obsessed freak.” You joke hastily causing him to chuckle fondly.

After a moment of being in each other’s embrace, you stare into his vulnerable eyes, allowing yourself to act on your feelings. “I want to be yours. I always have,” you beamed.

Heeseung understands quickly, because he also has always wanted to be yours. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips against yours softly.

He kissed you gently and slow, until he’s suddenly attacking your lips, and you feel both of his large hands cupping your small face. He licks your bottom lip for permission to shove his tongue inside your mouth and you accept, both of you fighting for dominance. It was like a reflex with the way you grabbed onto his hair.

You felt his hand slip under your tank top and he grabs your breast, kneading it gently. A loud exhale leaves your mouth, his touch igniting you.

Heeseung quickly broke away from you and nuzzled your temple before taking a deep breath then sighing, “We don’t have to go all the way.”

“Lee Heeseung turning down sex?” You tease him and he laughs before kissing you once more.

“I didn’t come here expecting something to happen. You’re special to me.”

His declaration makes your hurt flutter and creates an uncomfortable feeling between your legs. “I want you,” you tell him.

Heeseung freezes.

“Have you done it before?” He takes your hand.

You hesitate before shaking your head, “I’ve did other things before, but I’ve never gone all the way with someone.”

Your response makes him pause.

“Then it shouldn’t be with me,” he says before withdrawing his touch and taking a step back.

You grab his arm, refusing him to walk away, “Hey, I want it to be with you. I don’t care about how many other girls you’ve had, that’s not important,” you tell him. “Heeseung, please.”

It felt like a long time waiting for him to say something. Finally, he speaks up, “If we do this then I want you to tell me to stop when you want me to,” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

“Okay,” You nod your head accordingly.

“But we can’t be too loud, your parents are down the hall,” he amusingly smiles.

You nod your head one more time as he searches for any last signs of you wanting to back out. His hot breath fanned on your face as you pull him closer by his shirt.

He leans further down to press a trail of kisses against your jaw as you take a deep breath before tugging at the end of his shirt while his hand slides under yours, cupping your breast firmly this time. Heeseung removes his shirt, revealing his exposed chest as you take off yours.

You watch him take a step back to admire you, which leaves your face flushed with heat.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and all you could do is smile because you notice the tent in his pants.

Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and shoves his tongue back inside your mouth. You rub your thighs together feeling yourself getting soaked, you wanted to feel him already.

When you wrap your arms around his shoulders, you can’t help the way your body reacts to him as you attempt to rub yourself against him.

Heeseung notices this and instead of letting you continue, he slides a hand inside your pants and between your legs to spread your slick while also pressing the heel of his palm on your clit.

“That feels good,” you groan out, still attempting to press against him. When you succeed, a small grunt leaves his lips. “Does it?” He says coyly while curling his long fingers inside you.

You don’t answer him and it’s because he’s hitting your sweet spot, making you unable to speak. He fastens his pace and you feel your orgasm approaching, “H-Heeseung, I’m so close,”

He relentlessly rubs circles around your clit, reveling in the pretty noises coming out of your mouth. You feel your thighs shaking as you continue grinding against him, and it was becoming too much until you let out your release, holding onto his biceps to steady yourself.

After retracting his fingers and wiping them clean on his pants, Heeseung easily picks you up from off the ground and props you on your bed. He grabs the band of your pants to pull them down before quickly slipping off your panties. You impatiently lay there, waiting for him to undress.

He starts to strip off his pants by unbuttoning the buttons, his boxers followed by it. The sight of his cock leaking with precum caused your eyes to widen. He was pretty, prettier from what you’ve seen before, and you can’t help but feel nervous as to how he was going to fit inside you.

But you trust him and give him a nod to continue because you want this so bad. Heeseung started to stroke himself, and with the copious amount of precum, he was able to glide up and down with ease. The view of Lee Heeseung looking gorgeous on your bed while naked leaves you breathless.

“Shit,” he lets out a panic grunt.

You sit up and notice the worried look on his face, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry baby, I-I don’t have a condom,” he mutters, and by the tone in his voice, you could tell that he was freaking out. “I have one in the car, I could run to get it really quick.”

You think about it for a second before shaking your head. Although a condom would be the safest choice, you don’t want him to get dressed just to undress again. Your parents were still in the house, and you were afraid that he’d get caught sneaking back inside.

You also wanted him now, you weren’t sure if you could wait much longer. “You can just pull out,” you suggest and he immediately refuses.

“It’s okay, I trust you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have a problem getting it.”

You reach for his hand and give it a tight squeeze before nodding, “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Unless you aren’t?” You continue.

Heeseung shakes his head, “No, I’m sure. I want you too, very badly, but I want you to feel safe.”

You lay back down while pulling Heeseung until he’s hovered over you. “I trust you, Hee. It’s fine.”

Heeseung merely tilts his head and lets his smile deepen as he removes the hair in your face to see you clearly. He kisses the side of your mouth then your lips before taking his throbbing length to slowly slide inside you.

With his precum and your dripping core, he is able to slide in easily, but he deliberately takes a slow amount of time, not wanting to hurt you. Your hands desperately grabbed at his bare shoulders, digging your nails in as he slides in deeper. You feel full when he’s only halfway in, and as much as you wanted to him to bottom you out and fuck you relentlessly, it did hurt a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he halts and completely slips out, feeling you slightly shift and noticing the uncomfortable look on your face.

“No,” you grab him by the arm, “Don’t stop.”

Heeseung obliges, lining his cock up with your entrance and gently easing the tip inside. He inched inside deeper and your walls squeezed when inviting him in. Heeseung fully inserted himself into you, causing you to cling onto him and let out a loud whine. He allowed you to adjust as he stretched you out and the feeling felt better than just fingers, you were already addicted.

He grabbed your thighs and grinded himself upwards, placing his dick so deep inside you. Heeseung grit his teeth attempting to hold back his sounds before planting a weak kiss on your lips, never feeling like this with anyone else.

“Does it feel good?” He whimpers, gradually increasing his pace when thrusting inside you.

All he got as a response was moan and he chuckled, finding it cute. You were enthralled, feeling his movements become faster, more ragged and desperate. “It feels- so good.”

Heeseung was watching you with lustful eyes as you took his cock in ecstasy. Your lips met, exchanging warm breaths and loud moans into each other’s mouths as it echoed inside your room. “You feel good, perfectly made for me.”

“I’m glad it’s with you,” You accidentally let out, trying to contain your moan. After hearing your words, he groaned and firmed your hips closer. You feel him increasing his pace, hitting your spot as he slid in and out of you, almost tipping you over the edge. “Heeseung-“ You began.

He lets out a soft grunt before slyly sneaking a hand down to graze your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut and clench hard, his words and warm touch helping you to approach your release.

“Hee, I’m close,” you cry out. He continues thrusting sensually, causing loud sounds to leave both of your mouths at the sensation.

Simultaneously, you both cover each other’s mouths restricting the loud noises so that you wouldn’t wake your parents up. And you release just like that, moaning into Heeseung’s hand.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, “You’re perfect.”

You were dizzy and disoriented, barely making out the words that left his lips as he slows down his rhythm, still fast enough to chase his own release. “I’m gonna cum,” he whined, his fingers gripping your hips almost painfully.

His touch felt amazing and you were vaguely aware of Heeseung pulling out just in time. You groaned, watching as he gasped himself in his fist, pumping himself over your stomach as he painted you with his seed.

His weight gently pushed you flat against the mattress, his puddle of cum sticking on the both of you as you both shook from the intensity of your orgasms. Heeseung pressed small kisses to your shoulders before getting up from your bed and picking up his shirt to clean you.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asked before rolling to lay next to you. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, “It was perfect,” you then plant a small kiss on his lips while removing a piece of his hair that stuck to his forehead.

“You were very sweet with me.”

“I told you that you’re special to me,” he replies, pressing his lips against your forehead.

The corners of your mouth upturned into a huge smile, the butterflies in your stomach were floating around as if they didn’t leave. But in a matter of a quick second, your body language changes into a more stern and stiff manner.

“What’s wrong?” His voice trembled in concern.

A sudden feeling of insecurity hit. Heeseung knew how to make you feel good, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before and a reason might be because he is experienced, but you wonder if you were able to satisfy him — to make him feel good.

“You were so perfect, I don’t know if you could say the same,” you drop your head in defeat. “I’m sorry if it didn’t feel good to you-“

“Baby, stop talking,” he urges.

“You said that you don’t care about how many girls I’ve been with,” he reiterates. “I don’t care if you’re experienced or not, it was perfect because it was with you. I want to be with you.”

You could feel your voice caught in your throat. The look in his eyes as he declared his words made your heart pound hard in your chest. It feels unreal to finally win over your crush of how many long tumultuous years. After everything, you wonder how lucky you got with him.

And Heeseung was thinking the same thing. He felt lucky to be with you after all of his fuck ups, he was obsessed with you too.

“You’re with me,” you tell him.

“Okay then,” he looks satisfied, “You’re my girl.”

© fairyofhee 2023.

note — thank you for reading! please leave any thoughts or comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!

[inc0mple]

Shape Language in Cinderella Boy: An Analysis

Hello, world, I come with an analysis. Also known as more proof that Punko is a genius, in case you were in doubt.

So first of all, we know that violet is a beautiful iconic queen.

Look at her. Queen.

Violet's features are very distinctive - all of the keys are very distinctive. She has tall shoulder pads that slim down to a form-fitting dress that wraps around her ankles - in this way, she is shaped more or less like an arrow, pointing downwards.

Now let's look at Buddy's outfits throughout season one.

Violet gives him this same shape, time and time again. He is shaped like Violet is, through the clothes that he wears; this downward arrow sort of look. And it fits both of them; villans are commonly pointy. If you look at many villanous characters in media, you will see that triangles are incorporated into their designs all the time. Triangles are less friendly looking than other shapes - they make us think of sharp, pointy things. And Buddy's outfit contributes to it, too. The way his shoulder pads, fabric layers, and even boob windows are shaped all contributed to this sort of top-heavy, narrowing atmosphere. (It also makes him look pretty, which he is).

Now let's look at Silver.

Silver is less pointy than Violet because her job is the heroine, and when we see round things, we think of them as more comfortable objects - soft, smooth, not prickly to the touch. Friendly. But in addition to this roundness, Silver is shaped like an hourglass, a shape feminine and strong. And if you look at the outfits worn by Chase:

They often don this same hourglass shape. Interesting too because usallly the hourglass is more prominent on the bottom (most obvious in the 2nd image above), which means that if you simplify him, he is often shaped as a triangle with the base resting on the ground - while Buddy is an upside down triangle. They are each other's opposites, not only in archetype and personality, but in their simplest composites: their actual physical shape.

It works for Deacon and Bronze, and Prunella and Goldie, too. The outfits of the keyholders match the shapes of the keys.

Bronze is shaped like a rectangle...

Deacon is a gawky boy.

Square shapes are often sturdy and reliable. As the helper, this is Deacon and Bronze's whole job. In addition, you can see that sometimes Deacon also dons a trapezoid shape around his shoulders, with the shorter base on the top and the longer base on the bottom. This is most noticable with the Still Waters and RoBaM arc outfits, and it also contributes to this feel of "groundedness".

Finally, Goldie and Prunella. I think this is the most clear example.

Goldie is not pointy. He is round, friendly, and affable. His smile is rounded, his eyes are round, even the tips of his hair do not sharpen to a point. He has the same roundness that Silver does, particularly in his shoulders (REMEMBER THIS, THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER), and his armor gives him another larger circle to more or less center the two smaller circles. Thus, Goldie is shaped like Mickey Mouse.

And it is very. Very. Very obvious with Prunella.

Because she is a kid. She's innocent, childish, carefree - I wouldn't say playful, nessecarily, but her age alone implies that she is much more of this rounded shape than the older characters.

And these clothes support their personalities. Like a bow or an hourglass-shaped dress, Chase is feminine and cute; Deacon is sensible and grounded, reliable. Buddy is all triangles, he's prickly and triangles also have a proven visual appeal to them that Buddy is well able to match. And Prunella has shapes of circles and hearts and semicircles in her outfits - what I like most about her shape language is that even though I illustrated her skirt as a circle, it is often flat on the bottom, which ALSO makes her seem grounded, just like Deacon's trapezoid.

Buddy's shoulder pads intriuge me most. Because they are all very pointy. Look at his cat outfit, or those over-the-top shoulder pads in Sick Day. All except for one arc.

Still Waters.

The finale.

Because of the way Buddy's outfit is, he still has the arrow shape that Violet does. However, this time, due to the fluff, his shoulders are much more rounded.

Like Silver.

Like Goldie.

Like a hero.

Like, Y'ALL.

ROUND:

POINTY:

ROUND.

Because this arc, this moment, is when Buddy becomes a hero. He stops with the triangle-shaped shoulder pads that have until now been cohesive with villainry, and donned the roundness to his shoulders that the hero archetypes have, via the fluff.

And it's really, really cool.

And what's also cool about it is that it doesn't only extend to these outfits!! Compare Deacon and Chase's houses, for example; there is shape language there. It's everywhere in a lot of media, and it is so cool to me that it was intergrated into Cinderella Boy in this way.

Sadly I already typed this out once before, accidentally deleted it, and had to rewrite it - so I'm going to stop there, lol. I promise the analysis of the Still Waters fit was much more cohesive the first time, but I think the point still gets across

I did it. Tada

[consume-cs]

goodnight n go (04) ◯○ first time sleeping with him

I want it back, I want the old me | < 🌰! | 🌊 &team content | materialist

english isn’t my first language. ot9 scenario. non idol — cuteness and shyness ﷼

koga yudai

After months of relationship, he asks you after a date if you want to stay with him a little longer and both of you didn’t have the intention of sleeping together, but it’s so late to go back home and K wouldn’t let you sleep alone in your home.

So after a while, you end up sleeping in his arms at the sofa and he carries you to the bed, taking your boots and jacket off and leaning by your side.

murata fuma

He’s on his first Christmas vacation with your family and your parents didn’t want you two to be alone in a room so you have to share room with your older brother and his girlfriend too. You can’t deny it, it’s pretty obvious that both of you are kinda nervous but Fuma makes sure you don’t feel uncomfortable.

So after whispering each other in the darkness of the room, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, your face in his chest and hearing his heart beating as you smile.

wang yixiang

At first it’s a bit awkward and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable but at the end it comes out naturally. You lean your head in his chest as he draws circles around your shoulders, hearing his heartbeat and his voice saying silly things because he doesn’t know what else to say due to his nerves.

“Have a goodnight, princess” He whispers when you fall sleep in his arms.

byun euijoo

“Can I sleep with you?” You say quietly in front of his hotel room. The boys started to do concerts around Japan but the hotel administrators put you apart so after a few hours, you find yourself walking to his hotel room.

You see his lazy smile and that’s enough for you. You close the door behind you, suddenly feeling a little shy but you find a space in his arms and then he kisses your forehead softly.

nakakita yuma

It’s been a long flight to his hometown in Japan after a long tour around Asia, so as soon as you arrive to his old room you sigh and lean your body on the door frame, watching him take his bags and walk to the door.

You know exactly what he’s about to do, so you turn yourself. “Can you sleep with me tonight?” Yuma turns himself to look at you with his tired face and he lets you hold his hands as you take him to the bed.

asakura jo

With all of his shyness, he takes the initiative to make you sleep with him since you’re sleeping with all the members in the same room. He didn’t want you to leave his side but at the same time his cheeks are all red because his members are seeing this side of him.

He lets you rest your head in his arms as both of you look at the roof of the place in silence, enjoying the warmth of your bodies together as your eyes find each other in the darkness.

shigeta harua

It’s raining outside and the weather is getting colder and colder as your toes are playing with each other, your bodies are getting closer. “So, you like the rain or sun?” You laugh because he knows the answer of that but the nerves are showing up.

He brushes your hair with his hands and whispers sweet things to you, making you smile and your cheeks red and warm.

takayama riki

Both of you are so nervous that it’s so obvious for both and you can’t control it, mean while Taki doesn’t know what to do since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

He turns around, looks at your back and he doesn’t think too much to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his face on your back. “Aren’t you uncomfortable? Don’t you want me like this?” You smile and get closer to him just letting him know that’s okay.

hirota riki

It’s been a long flight back home and it’s the first time you’re taking him to Toronto to see your family, but just being there for hours is absolutely uncomfortable for your body, so the best idea to forget the hours you’re going to be there is just sleep.

It comes out naturally because the whole time you’re holding hands with him, then you rest your head on his shoulder and he does it too holding your hand tightly.

xoxo girl💋…

© consume_cs

[burgojo]

HONEY POT. PJM / KTH / M!READER

summary. there's something wrong with the popular kids at this small-town high school. something deeply, viscerally, hauntingly wrong...

wc. 8.8k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, switch!jimin, jimin in skirts and heels, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, biting, spitroasting, brief daddy kink (r. receiving), gratuitous blood/gore, blood as lube (from another wound), cultism & religious fervour, cannibalism, murder

note. happy halloween!! i began this in early august to be on time, but uh, we know how that turned out :')

"—and i was like, no, that isn't how this works! i'm literally the best he's ever had, why would he ever wanna break up with me? i even bought him that stupid walkman he kept whining about and he still went and cheated on me and then tried to dump me. me! how could he?"

"well, he was already on his way to being a forty-year-old junkie who lives in a trailer park and hates life. he could've had so much with you. he'll realise how much he messed up – he'll get his karma."

"i know, i know... you're right. i just wish he could've been nicer. could've saved us both the trouble."

jimin lifts his soft dark eyes from his pink handheld mirror. he smacks his glossy lips and shuts the mirror with a clack, crossing his legs the other way and leaning back against the steps of the steel bleachers. he glances up at taehyung, who sits one step above him.

dressed in a cropped, pale pink shirt and blue jeans, taehyung fans his hot face with chunky rings on each finger, eyes lifted to the sky in a futile effort to hold back tears. jimin had already helped him redo his makeup in the bathroom, and this wasn't the first time taehyung had cried over a boy. poor thing just had too big of a heart – he wasn't made for modern boys and their vices.

jimin sucks on his teeth and sighs, turning forwards to lord over the verdant grassy field, where the senior boys are engaged in tryouts for college football teams. "don't worry, honey. we'll find the right one for you eventually. maybe try an athlete? the artsy ones are always such snobs."

"oh, they aren't all that bad, really," taehyung mumbles, patting the corners of his damp eyes lightly. "anyway, they all want you, not me. they're not into anyone who isn't a cheerleader."

"you're being silly. they just don't think you're interested – you keep rejecting them." jimin scours the field, tucking his dark hair behind his ear. a diamond stud flashes under the sun. he reaches out and touches taehyung's knee, leaning in for secrecy he doesn't need. "how about that one?"

"he called me a sour bitch. no."

"and that one?"

"he made me do all the work on a paired project and took my ninety-eight for himself. no."

jimin purses his lips, eyes flickering between their faces, warm and shining under the sun. all around, they looked quite similar – all fairly muscular, with the same lazy grins. not bad for eye-candy, he supposes, but taehyung is a romantic, which is how anyone he dates manages to bury themselves so deeply in his heart.

motion by the changing rooms on the other side of the field. jimin's eyes flick over naturally, and they widen.

strong, handsome, and, most importantly, taehyung is already looking at him.

he keeps his watchful gaze discreet, following the figure as he crosses the field and joins the coach to speak with him briefly. he is handed a football, which he tosses and spins in his hands a few times, and the coach gathers a few lounging boys to help out.

they spread out, and the tryout begins.

jimin isn't an expert on the game, only knows the basics, but he knows how to read a man – and the coach is clearly impressed by what he sees. jimin observes quietly, crossing his legs and uncrossing them, as he runs circles around the rest of the boys, leaving them far in the dust.

at last, when the boys are huffing and puffing with their hands on their heads and the cute one takes his time wandering back to the coach – after meeting jimin's eyes for a quick, sparkling second – jimin turns his head in taehyung's direction.

"what about... that one?"

taehyung huffs, pressing his knees together and resting his elbows on them. jimin doesn't mention how his gaze flicks to his shoes before meeting jimin's, almost as if he didn't want to be caught looking. he gives the footballer a once-over, then inspects his nails. "too tall."

jimin watches him push back his cuticles with his thumbnail, those thick dark lashes brushing his fine cheekbones. his prettiness makes him a honeypot for invariably bad people, and though jimin feels for him, he can't say he wants him to stop trying. everyone has their place in the world – even cheaters and liars. taehyung's relationships make it easier to weed them out for proper atonement.

"are you sure?" jimin asks carefully, tilting his head. "he looks like just your type."

"i don't have a type," taehyung sighs. "if i did, it'd make finding people that much harder."

eventually, jimin hums, and turns away to watch the tryouts.

out of sight, taehyung's shoulders slump slightly, and he exhales shakily. he nibbles on the edge of his nail as his eyes follow a figure lifting a water bottle to his lips. his sweat-shining throat bobs as he swallows rapidly, and a trickle of water escapes from the corner of his lips; it trails down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. he wipes it away without much thought. taehyung presses his thighs together.

suddenly, jimin turns back to him, propping his chin on his palm. his eyes are big and innocent as he asks, "hey, tae? you know that ex we were talking about earlier? i want his address."

"o-oh, um – just to make him sorry, right?"

"yeah. he will be."

taehyung swallows. "yes. okay. is it bad that i feel... that i pity him?"

jimin giggles, sweet and high like a bell. he squeezes taehyung's knee. "you're my best friend. i'm not going to let anyone get away with hurting you. you know that."

"mhm, i know. just make sure nobody sees you, alright? i don't want you getting in trouble for vandalism or something."

"oh, my charges would definitely include more than petty vandalism, but you know me – i cannot be caged!" he jumps to his feet and stretches high above his head, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of pure, unblemished skin. the way he scrunches his nose slightly makes taehyung's heart flutter.

he exhales softly as his neck cracks, and he flashes taehyung a quick smile as he packs up his pin-studded messenger bag and slings it over his shoulder. "you can give me his address after school, but don't leave it too late. don't forget about the curfew. i have to go for now, but you make sure you take care of yourself, okay? if you feel too sad to study, i'm sure my mother would let you go home early if you asked."

taehyung hums and nods, leaning forward on the bench as jimin skips down the bleachers until his ivory pumps make a satisfying clack on the concrete base. "your nepo-baby status is really helpful sometimes, y'know?"

jimin beams, his eyes crinkling to crescents. "i know! see you around, honey. love you!"

"love you," taehyung echoes, and watches him go. his all-white outfit makes him as bright as the moon, and just as breathtaking. effortlessly, he carves a path through the crowds like moses and the red sea, perfectly oblivious to the power he wields over them all.

taehyung sighs and turns back to watch the tryouts, and that one special player right in the middle. just as he wishes you'd come and cheer him up, you glance over, grass stains on your shorts and a new bruise on your knee. as you meet his gaze, the biggest grin splits your face. you wave with your whole arm and taehyung giggles to himself, hiding his warm cheeks behind his knuckles as he lifts one shy hand.

his heart races. for you, he'll keep up this masquerade. this was a dangerous neck of the woods, and he wouldn't let anything steal you away – not even jimin.

he's waiting patiently for you at the edge of the field when you finally manage to break off from your mates. his slim fingers dance lightly over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. as quickly as his touch arrives, it vanishes, his arms once more wrapped around his body like a hug.

"hey," he greets softly.

"hey yourself," you reply, amusement light on your tongue. "i saw you earlier. i hope you didn't get bored watching me chase after a ball like a dog."

he huffs. "what are you saying? dogs are cute. you were cute. i like seeing you bound across the field – you make for some especially tasty eye-candy, sweating and panting like that."

"do i, now?" you say playfully, leaning against the steel fence. he leans in too, matching your smile with a pretty, half-bitten one of his own. his lashes flutter as you tease a kiss, the tip of your nose brushing his cheek. "next thing i know, you'll be begging to lick me up."

he clicks his tongue, turning away from your almost-kiss in half-assed defiance. "tch. here i am, trying to be sweet, and you ruin it all. boys like you have only one thing on their minds."

"hey, you started it! besides, are you telling me you wouldn't wanna taste of my lollipop?" you smirk, gazing at his side profile. he's drop dead gorgeous, all full lips and big eyes, and you could easily while away your days doing nothing but admiring the symmetry of his features.

taehyung rolls his eyes, but there's no heat to it. he sniffs. "you wish. you wouldn't last long enough to enjoy the view."

you place a hand over your heart. "careful, pretty boy, or you and your mean insults could remain part of me for a long, long time. words hurt, you know?"

"what do i have to be careful for? you like me too much to do any lasting damage to me. it's nice, really. nice to know you love me – in your own, silly little way." he pokes your chest, and you catch his hand in yours and lift his knuckles to your lips. the ghost of a kiss shivers over his skin.

"silly?" you parrot, returning his hand to him with a knowing look. you rest your hip against the top of the chain-link fence, casting a glance casually over the field. "you think my acts of love are silly?"

taehyung hums, leaning over and grasping your chin. he turns your face towards him. "'sweet', then – that's probably a better word for it. none of my exes ever did what you do for me. not even close. i'm sorry, baby – please don't pout."

"i'm glaring, actually," you huff. "this is my glaring face."

"don't, you'll get wrinkles," taehyung chides. he glances around, and swiftly, like a little bird, flits up on his toes to press his lips against your cheek. in the blink of an eye, he settles back into place on his side of the fence. he sighs, and a sudden weight slumps his shoulders. you straighten, turning towards him properly.

"he noticed you," he says, his voice lower than usual. "pointed you out to me as a potential boyfriend."

the smile you were wearing drops like a stone. "he did?"

taehyung doesn't trust himself to speak; he nods instead, staring at his shoes.

"well," you say, at a loss for words. "i mean, he's tiny. what's he gonna do to me?"

his head snaps up and the intensity of his gaze catches you off-guard. "don't underestimate him. you can't. he – he can do more than hurt you. he'll ruin you.

"no, no – don't roll your eyes," he snaps. "i know, i sound paranoid, but you haven't even been here for six months. you haven't seen what i've seen." his focus flickers to your surroundings, and he seems uncomfortable even when he leans in to whisper. "please. keep away from him, don't tell anyone about us, and for the love of god, stop visiting my house after curfew. he's whip-smart – he notices it once, he'll catch on like that." he snaps his fingers. "also, we have a change of plans. mark's off the table – jimin wants him."

at that, the corners of your mouth turn down. you cross your arms. "not if i get there first."

"baby – baby, look at me. you can't risk it."

"fuck," you hiss between your teeth. you clear your throat and wipe the expression off your face, flawless neutrality taking its place. it still simmers under your skin, but it's always easier to sweep something under the rug than clean it up. "fine. i can bring a friend over tonight instead. it'll be easy enough – these sheep will follow me anywhere. we can... have him for dinner."

taehyung's eyes glimmer, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. the worry's sloughed off his shoulders for now, and that's as good as you can hope. "i've always loved your lamb steaks. i've been waiting for this – for you. i'll be at yours by seven sharp."

"wear your pretty clothes," you hum almost offhandedly as you survey your fellow students. there's not a care in the world in those empty heads. "something black – and sexy."

taehyung flicks his bangs out of his eyes. "everything i wear is sexy. you'd do well to remember that."

"yes, dear."

—

his hands shake. that oil-heat, sweat-sheen, bone-crunch. his breath rattles through his lungs like the tongue of a too-small bell.

the weight of the kitchen knife in his hand is too much – he lifts it, and it tilts forward dangerously, trembling in his red-wet palm. the silver glimmers and flickers under the yellow shed lights.

a warmth behind him, a sturdy presence – tender hands slide down his arms, tracing him from collarbone to wrist like a delicate porcelain doll. they fold around his slim fingers, big scarred knuckles too worn to be a boxer's – they wear gloves for protection.

"split the skin shallow, so you don't pierce the meat," you murmur, your breath hot against his ear. you guide his hands with your own, slowly pressing down until the pop of released pressure signifies the beginning of the cut. "all the way down, just like that... good. you slip the knife under the skin and peel it back, making a scything or slicing motion to cut the membrane. long, slow strokes to control the angle of the blade. you want the meat nice and lean."

the night is still and silent outside, not a cricket or dog to be heard. the rushing of taehyung's pulse is loud enough for them all. he can feel your excitement against him – the quickened breathing, the thudding heart, the hitched gasp when his grip tightens on the knife and steadies.

"perfect," you croon in his ear, an undercurrent of a growl echoing beneath your words. "take your time. i want your first time to be..."

you shift against him, and he feels something prod his backside. he bites down on the inside of his cheek to silence himself and takes a deep, shaky breath, pressing down with the knife. sinew and muscle part easily under the sharpened blade.

"it's easier," he whispers, barely a breath, "than i thought it would be."

"you're doing very well, but remember, i'm guiding you. you won't find a better person to teach you."

your hands are big and knowledgeable over his own, each arc of the knife steady and precise. the blood warms his skin up to the knuckles, but it pales in comparison to your own, smeared up past your wrists in a deep ruby red. a bucket by the leg of the table is full of gore, intestines wrapped around a bladder and stomach and hacked-off chunks of fat. it was a job too bloody and slippery to give to your pretty shrike.

"this will be your steak," you hum, stroking the heavy, lick-wet cut of meat almost reverentially. you press your lips to his shoulder, then to his temple. he can feel your smile against his skin. "perfect knifework. it's almost as if you've done it before."

"well, it's like you said," taehyung breathes, gently placing it in the metal bowl at the top of the table. a secondary bowl beside it is already filled with some lesser cuts of meat, which you'd done to kill time before his arrival. "there's no better person to teach me."

he turns around in your arms, carefully linking his bloodied fingers behind your head. he noses your jaw, his lips brushing over yours. the strappy black top he wears clings to him like a second skin, and the gap between it and the top of his pants reveals his toned stomach, flexing now as he presses his hips against your thigh. he whines softly as you knock his knees apart and slide your leg between his with a teasing grin.

"no need to play coy, beautiful," you purr, digging your palms into the edge of the table. "if you want it, just ask."

"but where's the fun in that?" he gasps as you nip the soft skin of his neck, canines making reds and purples bloom across his sun-kissed skin. "o-oh – y-you know you shouldn't do that, baby. not so high."

with a furrowed brow, you growl softly, slowly rocking your thigh against him. "rules, rules, rules... why does he dictate your life like this? scared of being tossed aside?"

taehyung shakes his head, his head falling back with a moan. for someone who doesn't like being marked up, he sure does make it easy. he exhales as your breath trails up his throat and over his jaw. "he's not. he doesn't."

"yet you pretend as if we've never met when he's around, and you don't say anything when he forbids you from working with your hands. he thinks you should stay clean and pretty because he likes it that way. he holds you back, and you let him."

you punctuate your words with a fist around his throat, slowly pressing in. the flush that'd dusted his chest and neck while working the knife spreads to the apples of his cheeks, sweet and shy. his breath catches, and he looks up at you through the dark forest of his lashes.

you can almost understand jimin's rules. someone as beautiful as him shouldn't need to mar his skin with stains and calluses. that he still desires it – desires to delve deep into the marrow of mortality, watch it squeeze out between his knuckles – turns your stomach, in sickness or adoration.

"i'm sorry," taehyung nearly whimpers, panting short and shallow as his blood-slick hands scramble at your shoulders and chest. his eyes are black with lust and his pulse throbs under your fingers. "i know. i just don't want to upset him. i care about him."

you don't look away when you grab one of his hands, resting over your heart. you lift his knuckles to your lips and, under the heavy haze of hunger, he watches as you wrap your lips around two of his fingers. your cheeks hollow, and your tongue swirls slowly around each joint, as if savouring more than the iron taste.

he swallows thickly as the hand around his throat shifts, less to choke and more to pull close. his heartbeat thuds at the back of his throat.

pinned between your body and the table, the tiny shed door locked behind you, he realises suddenly what it must feel like to be your prey. you have a visceral animal strength about you, muscles like steel cable wound tight, always on the brink of snapping. only the patience of a tiger in wait keeps the mask from slipping, breaking.

your canines graze his finger, held firm in the heat of your mouth. the look in your eye says it wouldn't take much to release that perfectly wound tension, to let the slick nubs of your teeth open him up.

the look in his eyes invites you to.

eventually, you pull away, a satisfied smile splitting your face. you crush your lips against his, nicking his lower lip, and he moans at the warm iron flooding his mouth. greedily, your tongue laps at the stinging cut.

"fuckin' perfect," you husk, gaze flickering down to the red smeared over his throat and jaw, then further down to the obvious bulge in his pants. you snicker. "hm. need help with that?"

"please." he reaches down, as if to undo the buttons right there and then.

you grab his wrists and tut. "sweetheart, not over our dinner. you know better than that."

he groans. "it's your fault for driving me crazy!"

in response, you just laugh and grab the bowls of steaks. it's a surprisingly light sound even though you were ready to eat him up mere moments ago. "come on, then. we've got all the good cuts already. head in and put these in the fridge; i'll deal with the carcass. i'll be quick, i promise."

"you better be," he mutters, loosening the latch on the door. "i'll kill you otherwise."

when you open the door to your bedroom, halfway through drying your hands on a tea towel, you are greeted by the sight of an angel on your bed, long slender legs spread just for you. you toss the towel onto a nearby chair and lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. you let out a slow, appreciative wolf whistle, smirking when taehyung's eyes snap open and he bolts upright. he relaxes at the sight of you, one hand already slipping back between his thighs.

"you're not much of a gentleman, leaving me alone to entertain myself. you have to make it up to me."

"demanding little thing." you click your tongue, leaving the door open and approaching him on the bed. he leans back against the piled-up pillows, sighing softly as his fingers slip back inside himself. they do so with whorish ease, and the smoky darkness of his gaze is smug.

a challenge, then? you can do that.

your fingers glide over the back of a chair, slow and thoughtful. you drag it to the end of the bed and straighten it to face him. he shivers slightly in the warm night as you take a seat, leaning back and spreading your knees. one hand rests casually on your leg and the other props itself up on the armrest, curled in a loose fist.

he pulls his fingers out slightly. you snicker at the confusion in his flickering gaze. "what are you getting up for? i was just getting comfy."

"i—" he falters. almost indifferently, his fingers glide in and out of himself, keeping himself hard while he gathers his thoughts. "but you promised you'd fuck me tonight... killing always did rile you up, red-blooded beast that you are."

"beast?" you parrot, exaggerating a pout. "aw – and here i was, thinkin' i was more than an impressive cock to you." you run your thumb over your nails, your eyes flicking to his open legs and sticking there as he pulls his fingers out to pump his dick twice, thrice. his hand travels back down. "no. i promised no such thing. after all, you've got a date with your pretty boy tomorrow, yeah? don't want him wondering why you're so loose for him, do you?"

he whimpers softly at the mention of it. his fingers dig deeper inside him, upping the pace, and his cock pulses with need. "n-no... i-i mean, i could just say i got a bigger toy..."

"oh, no, sweetheart – if you like a man, never tell them your toy is bigger than them. 'specially them rich types. they bruise easily." you sigh softly, thumb gliding over the edge of your jawline. his twitching cock blushes under the hunger of your gaze and his hole clenches. "you'll just have to wait it out. patiently."

"but i want you." he gasps, the wet squelch of lube making everything ten times dirtier. his breath quickens and he adds a third finger, shuddering at the stretch. "ah– baby, please, i've already been doing this for ages—"

"i didn't ask you to."

"your fingers are thicker than mine," he whines, eyes growing big and ever-so-slightly teary. he's good, you'll give him that. the slight lip tremble, the shaky breaths. you could make him cry properly. he's always been a pretty crier. you wonder if his eyeliner will run.

he sinks his fingers in until the knuckle and he moans, bucking onto his fingers. "god, won't you just fuck me already? why touch yourself when you can touch me? i can see how hard you are!"

you lift your hand off the bulge in your jeans and undo your belt teasingly, thoughtfully – as if you might take him up on that tasty, tasty offer. you lean back in the chair and exhale softly as you free yourself from the confines of your underwear. your cock taps your stomach and taehyung keens, unable to tear his eyes off of it as you wrap your hand around its base, stroking shallowly.

"w-wait," he gasps, beginning to pull his fingers out, "wait, i wanna – let me—"

"no," you say sharply, movements halting. "sit back. i didn't tell you to stop."

"but i can—"

"taehyung."

he quietens, chastened but obedient. he gnaws on his lower lip as his hand returns to its rightful place. he quivers as he watches your palm smooth over your tip and slide back down, precome bubbling from the slit. he can feel his own smearing over his bare stomach, hotter than his warm skin.

instinct takes over. over and over. over and over.

he's such a good boy for you – he's wasted on a creature like jimin. then again, are you really better than him? just the same, you've denied him his basest needs. to part flesh with steel, impart bliss with lust – you've just dropped one piece of control for another.

no. you can be better. you are better.

taehyung gasps sharply as you all but lunge at him, pinning him to the bed by his throat. his golden hair haloes him on the crumpled white blankets, like a gilded apollo so gently posed against marble. he blinks slowly up at you, eyes soft with worship and dark with desire, and kisses the thumb tracing the cupid's bow of his lips, a hand curled around your wrist. the other reaches for you.

you groan softly as he pumps your cock, twisting his wrist expertly. your belt buckle clinks and he giggles, eagerly reciprocating your greed. he hooks his legs loosely around your thighs.

"and you were the one preaching patience," he hums as you lean away to tug your shirt over your head. it gets tossed into a corner without so much as a glance and taehyung flushes at the view, half-lidded gaze raking every inch of revealed skin like a man starved. "oh..."

"how many times have you seen me shirtless?"

"not enough." he grabs your hand and pulls you into him, his hands locking behind your head and tugging you into a heated kiss. "you're also not bloody enough for my liking."

without waiting for a response, his teeth clamp down in the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the meat is soft and muscle is taut.

pain blooms like a shard of ice, sudden and sharp. a decisive movement, it left no room for bruising. taehyung groans, guttural, and digs his teeth in deeper, if only to keep the wound open for longer. his fingernails print stinging crescents into your biceps and he whimpers, eyes rolling back, as you shove his head into your neck, forcing the blood down his throat.

melting heat and iron, the sharp tang dissolving into sweetness – his tongue laps at the oozing wound, the arc of his teeth imprinted forever into your skin until the white of your bones will gleam under the midday sun.

when you allow him to pull away, his eyes are black, dazed and blissful. he smiles from ear to ear, teeth red and stained down the chin and throat, and crushes his lips against yours, tangling your hair in his grip and moaning sinfully loudly. his cock throbs, crushed between your bodies, and he bucks against your shaft, the vein on the underside catching against the ridge of your tip with a shuddering bolt of pleasure.

"i'm yours! i'm yours, all yours," he whispers fervently, obsessively. his tongue swipes over his lower lip, the oily heat marking him just like a sheep bloodying the muzzle of a wolf.

he smiles. he laughs. he presses your foreheads together, his stomach slick with his orgasm, and kisses you again, this time sitting upright in your arms.

"you're good to me. so, so good to me." he leaves the print of his lips against your throat and jaw like a jealous girlfriend, your own blood a perfect valentines' red. "fuck me – please? or i could suck you off, if you're still worried about tomor—oh!"

you flip him over and pull his hips towards you, slotted perfectly between your thighs. his own shine with excess lube and you push your cock between his plush thighs, thrusting impatiently to coat it. over his shoulder, he watches, wide-eyed, as you drag a few fingers up your chest towards your shoulder – towards the red bite mark leaking down your chest.

you smear the blood on your cock. taehyung's core throbs – his back arches. he nearly screams as you yank him onto your cock, burying yourself hilt-deep in not-enough thrusts. his mouth falls open as the burn sears its way up his spine and caresses his brain. he swears he can feel you in his throat.

"fuck! fu-fuck," he burbles, crying out as you set a steady pace, your hips slapping against his ass. you push his knees together with your own and his eyes show their whites, mouth open in a perpetual moan. he buries the chants into the pillow, staining it with blood, and his knuckles whiten around fistfuls of blanket as your cock scrapes his insides so deliciously, stabbing and thudding against his prostate. "fuck, oh my god, fuckfuckfuck—!"

you click your tongue, gaze glued to the point where you meet. "you've got a mouth on you, haven't ya? should fuck you until you forget how to talk. that'll clean you right up, nice and ready for your little boytoy. would you like that, sweetheart?"

"fuck, daddy, please, yes please," he whines, letting the pillow swallow the rest of his sounds. the ricochet of skin on skin echoes loudly in the cosy bedroom, and his cock throbs as it swings between his creamy thighs. shit, you could watch the ripple of his ass until the day you died, and none of it would be wasted time. you're beginning to suspect he has a stronger hold on you than you thought.

your shoulder stings like a bolt of clarity and you growl, grabbing and pulling his hips to meet your thrusts. he whimpers at the sound. "what an obedient pup. a little eager, but i s'pose that's normal, given that tonight was your first time." you huff and slap his thigh, making him yowl and his hips jerk. "wasted, you are. such steady hands. i could use someone like you."

"y-yes, yes, use me – ah, ah – love being used! mmn—!"

"not quite what i was saying, but i'll let it slide." you slam your hips into him and he chokes on it, letting his head falls limply to the pillow. he hasn't felt your cock in so, so long – he can't believe he'd almost forgotten how good it felt, how it filled him up just right to knock his brains out. you gripped him so tightly, too, as if he might get up and leave at any time – but you should know by now that he'll always be the one running back to you, that sick glint in your eye only making him swoon harder.

you had a few bad habits, sure. a few dark fantasies. but so did taehyung. and now he had your blood in him – your essence, the purest part of you – which could never be taken away, even if the elders found out about your relationship. they could take you, but not the part of you that you'd planted deep inside him. they'd never be able to dig it all out. you were a rot to their perfectly-tended garden, and taehyung wouldn't let you be cut out so easily – not when you were so sweet on the tongue.

he licks his lips, the faint taste of what remains fluttering his heart. he'd been careless with his moans, the cries of your name like a prayer. he found so many little deaths with you, and the best ones came screaming.

suddenly, emptiness – you pull away, hand slipping out of his. you halt, stiller than the dead.

hoarsely, taehyung whispers your name, a whine on the tip of his tongue. "n-no... so close, was so close, please..." he turns around.

his heart drops like a stone.

"hello," says jimin, in a voice like silk.

"baby, put the knife down," taehyung stammers, all pleasure doused by the sight of that too-big blade pressed up against your throat. "don't."

"why should i?" he adjusts it, nicking a fine pink line beneath your ear. red beads along it like a string of pearls. "he's a killer. he must be cleansed, same as the rest."

unconsciously, taehyung wipes his mouth, as if your influence on him could be removed so easily. he can still feel the heat of it pulsing against his lips. "but he's mine."

you roll your eyes, hands open and half-raised. of all the things he could've said...

yet, it seems to give him pause. the kitchen knife almost loosens – almost. he tugs your hair roughly, punishingly, and you grunt as the blade whispers against your skin. you have half a mind to teach him a bloody hard lesson, but taehyung might not like that.

"wait!" taehyung darts forward, hand outstretched. he slumps on the bed in front of jimin, gripping the sheets. "how – how did you find us?"

"i followed your ex," jimin replies, observing the wet blood painting half of your chest. the red against your skin is rather pretty... and it's in the shape of taehyung's teeth. "this mark is good at covering his tracks. not so much for those of others."

taehyung's eyes widen. no. you promised to stay away from his ex! then again, he never did see the face of the meat he was cutting up... and you weren't one to be one-upped by the likes of jimin.

"he's not a mark," he pleads, "not officially. he could join us! how many people has he already killed? how long did it take for you to realise? you only found him because he was too rash with this one."

jimin's eyes narrow. "all that tells me is that he grew cocky and let his guard down."

"the mark was cruel to me. he did it for me," taehyung implores, his eyes earnest. "he loves me. and i love him. put down the knife. initiate him."

you frown. initiate?

for a long time, jimin says nothing. he doesn't move.

he lifts the knife. taehyung's eyes widen.

he raises his hands in surrender. he huffs and crosses his arms, drumming his fingers against his arm as he cocks a hip. his skirt and knitted vest give him the impression of a private-school kid, although the short sleeves of the dress shirt seem a touch too tight to be unaltered. he wears a shiny pair of tall, heeled mary janes, but you hadn't heard him until the knife was at your throat. odd.

"fine," he drawls, eyeing you with a slight curl to his upper lip. "you have two minutes to convince me. you're so lucky i like you, tae. wh—i mean, why do you even care? you said he wasn't your type."

"well," he searches carefully for the right words, "things change. and he fucks me the way i like it. you can't tell that from a glance."

jimin's gaze strays briefly downwards, over the shine of blood and flexing muscle. you're still hard, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your lips twitch up into a smirk. you adjust your undone jeans and cross your arms.

eventually, jimin steps closer, reaching out curiously to prod at the bite mark. ruby red oozes, and he watches closely as your eyes flutter briefly shut. his tongue glides over his glossy lower lip. "hm... but he's still a killer. i don't know what makes him more useful to me alive."

it's as if a lightbulb flashes over taehyung's head.

he leans forward, resting a hand on your thigh. he tilts his head against your hip. "maybe you can... try him. see from my perspective."

"i'm not getting on my knees," jimin scowls immediately, "not for a sinner."

"but you don't mind it when i do?"

jimin opens his mouth. he closes it. he throws his hands in the air, knife waving around carelessly. "we're not the same! i'm already doing you a kindness by letting him live this long. i should be flaying him right now for tainting your body with his filth. you're supposed to be pure. unsullied."

"pure?" you repeat, scoffing. you can only stay quiet for so long. "oh, you lot are crazy-crazy. worse than me."

his eyes narrow and his knuckles whiten on the knife handle. taehyung shoves himself between you, gripping your hand in his own. "no! stop it, both of you! if you kill each other, who's gonna take care of me? i'm still hard."

he's the perfect height for you. you prop your chin on his shoulder with a lazy grin, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. you play with his cock, making his breath stutter. "you're right as always, sweetheart... how cruel is he for cockblocking you? you deserve everything in the world and more..."

jimin's fingers twitch. taehyung bucks shallowly against you, but you keep him firmly in place as you stroke his cock, already sensitive. you kiss his neck. you haven't taken your eyes off of jimin.

he presses his thighs together as taehyung lets out a soft whimper.

"come on, sweet thing," you croon into his ear, cupping his chest and grazing his nipple. "don't you want my cock?"

gulping, he tries not to show how affected he is by the hardness pressing against his ass. "a-ah, um..."

"what was that?" you flick your wrist roughly and taehyung's eyes shoot open. blood fills his mouth from a bitten cut in his cheek.

nervously, he lifts his eyes to jimin's. his gaze is fixed on your hand and the way it engulfs taehyung's cock, flicking over his slit and grazing the veins with your nails. "i want – i w-want..."

"say it, tae."

the words come not from your lips, but jimin's. two fingers slip into taehyung's ass and he jolts with a sweet moan as you curl them.

"i want your cock," he rushes out in one breath. "fuck, i want it so bad."

"even more than your boyfriend's?" your words are sly, coated in a thick layer of faux innocence. "why?"

taehyung doesn't bother answering. you know the answer ��� so does jimin. he turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands, bringing you down for a desperate, hungry kiss. you thrust your fingers into his hole and he jerks, clamping down around you. you swallow his moans, pumping your fingers teasingly.

"i wonder," you drawl, kissing a trail up taehyung's neck, "if he likes watching. maybe that's why he doesn't want to date you. he wants to sit back and watch as other men ruin your pretty little body – after all, it's hard to enjoy the faces you make when preoccupied with doing all the real work."

the sharp intake of breath and the way he clenches around you tells you what you want to hear. he looks up at you with those dark, dark eyes, his breath quick and shallow, and leans into it when you sit him down on the bed with a creak. swiftly, he turns over, arching his back and wiggling his ass. he gazes back at you with huge eyes as you remove your pants. he's almost shy – though the twitching cock leaking down his thigh is anything but. red and angry, it demands attention.

you glance at jimin. the knife's still in his hand, but the thought of it seems secondary to the sight of taehyung on his hands and knees. you can hardly blame him.

from the edge of the bed, you grab the bottle of lube taehyung had brought with him. you slather a generous amount onto your cock and push a few fingers into taehyung with the remnants, exhaling softly as he pushes his hips back against your knuckles.

"my perfect boy." you scissor your fingers, then slide them out. "c'mon – don't be shy. show your dear jimin how well i stretch you out."

he glances your way sharply. you're already staring at him, grinning in the airheaded, cocky, handsome way that all popular boys seem to know intrinsically. the soft lips, the blood, the way you manoeuvre taehyung's body around yours as if he's a prop to make you look better... every jock knows that rising in the ranks means he needs to talk louder than the next guy, take up more space than the next guy, have prettier girls on his arms than the next guy. they say confidence is key, but that's only good at pool parties where nobody wants to really call anyone's bluff.

you're the only one who does it right. you're the only one with a cock to match that body.

taehyung exhales shakily as he reaches back and parts his asscheeks, fingers digging harder than necessary into the plump meat. he hides his burning face in the sheets as jimin steps closer, and his breath quickens as you tap your cock against his ass, teasing his hole with your tip.

"cute, isn't he? surprisingly sweet, too. thought he'd be more of a brat when i first saw him," you hum, casually stuffing your cock into him in one smooth movement. taehyung yelps and lets out a quivery little moan, his slick walls clenching around your thick cock. he sounds like he's trying not to cry – you sigh patiently and pet his hair before your hands return to their rightful places on his hips to pull him onto you.

his body jolts with each thrust, his muffled cries breathy and whiny. his ass ripples with the slap of your hips. on a particularly rough thrust which has him seeing stars, he whimpers out a "daddy" that has jimin's breath hitching audibly.

"good, baby," you husk, palms gliding down his body appreciatively. you slap his ass – so hard your palm stings – and he chokes, already-wobbly knees giving out beneath him. he catches himself just in time but the angle has your cock driving deeper inside him, oscillating wildly from kissing his prostate to fucking his brain out his ears.

you grab a fistful of his hair and loom over him, your lips brushing his earlobe. his spine arches when you tug roughly, his eyes rolling to show their whites as your cock throbs inside him, each thrust wet and slick. "tell him how you feel, whore," you murmur, soft but loud enough for your voice to carry. he gasps sharply at the title and his aching cock leaks like a faucet into a puddle of his own precome. he shakes his head, embarrassment hot in his core.

you tilt your head. "maybe i'll even let you suck him off."

"it f-feels good," he cries immediately. the quick, precise slapping of skin on skin echoes in the room. "i love your cock! i love tay-taking cock, love being fucked by big cocks – oh god! – 'n' yours is the biggest! love getting stretched wide on your dick, getting fucked 'til it hurts—! i-i never wanna come off, mm, i love being your cockslut – wanna be your bitch, your toy, all yours—" you bury yourself balls-deep in his guts and his mouth falls open, thick white come spurting from his tip; it's almost humiliating how you can make him finish without a single brush against his dick. he smiles, broad and wobbly. "ohhh..."

you peck his cheek, pressing against his back low and heavy like an animal. you grip his jaw. "coming already? don't go passing out on me," you chide, tilting his head in jimin's direction. "look at him. look. there we go. see how hard he is? he must like how obedient you get with me – with your daddy."

heat floods his body to the marrow. you've never used that title on yourself before – it's always been taehyung's thing, something you don't mind only because it's him. the raking burn of pleasure hurts, blooming from his cock all the way up his spine and out to his fingers and toes.

possession. it spins in taehyung's jumbled mind. you fuck him like you want to bruise your name inside him, forcing him to think of you and only you even when jimin sits on that chair in front of him, a perfectly manicured hand wrapped around his leaking length, just begging to be touched.

briefly, taehyung wonders how you might fuck jimin. he's giving you his infamous bedroom eyes, but there's an acrid darkness that taints his gaze. jealousy? inadequacy? scorn? taehyung's thighs are hot and sticky.

maybe you'd be rougher with him, tie him up and fold him in half with his legs over your shoulders. even as he distantly obeys your whispered order to open his mouth, and even as jimin slides his velvety cock between his lips, he can't stop imagining you behind jimin, manhandling him and forcing him to ride you to get off, even though jimin's such a pillow princess.

you grip taehyung's hips, sweat shining on your skin. you spread his ass and thrust deeper, smirking when he jerks forward, choking down the rest of jimin's dick and ripping a pleasured curse from his throat.

taehyung's limbs feel like jelly. he braces against jimin's hip, hooking his thumb under the hem of jimin's skirt to pin it back. as he sinks down on his cock, he chances a glance up.

rid of his little sweater vest and unbuttoned down to the navel, jimin does very little to chase his high. he meets taehyung's eyes and tilts his head slightly – he's almost perfectly still, and the only thing he does is gather his skirt in a fist. your quick, snapping pace sets taehyung's, and it's only by the blown pupils and pink-tinged cheeks that taehyung knows he's doing well.

"so," you begin, and your voice is remarkably steady. "did you come here intending to kill me?"

"please, i barely know who you are. there are others—" his breath catches, and he closes his eyes to steady himself "—others who're more deserving of atonement than you. which isn't to say i thought you a paragon of virtue – you're a handsome guy on a sports team, and sin comes to your type like moths to a flame. i knew i'd come to collect eventually, but you surprised me. congrats – not many can."

"did you watch?" you ask, patting taehyung's ass almost fondly. "he did so well with the – what did you call him? your mark? did you see how beautiful he looked, nearly orgasmic as he cut him open and warmed his hands with his blood? you must enjoy it, too – seeing the life fade from your victims' eyes. otherwise, you would've culled me the moment i took your kill."

his eyes narrow. "you're sick."

you laugh. "y'know, you and your little 'cult' aren't slick. i saw how pretty girls and guys don't shy away from the forest or the nasty parts of town because what they can do far outweighs the shard of glass a cokehead waves around. i thought it was a creative writing exercise gone crazy, something to explain the unusual disappearances around here. it was good for me, though. nobody'll raise a fuss if one more douchebag goes missing."

"i should kill you now."

"but then sweet little taehyung would be upset – you heard him." you pout. "besides, you must've liked something about me or you would've gotten rid of me as soon as i ravaged your favourite boytoy. do you have a thing for corruption? is that why you stayed, watched him come as soon as he tasted my blood? if you like, i'll let him bite the other side."

he pulls taehyung's throat down on his cock by his hair. taehyung eagerly laps up every throbbing inch he receives, nails digging into jimin's ass. he jolts and gags slightly as hot come pours down his throat without warning – his eyes flutter shut as his throat bobs, lips pressed against jimin's base.

"oh, i like you," you purr, something of a song lilting your voice. "are you as angry when you take cock, i wonder?"

"try it, i dare you."

you turn your attention to taehyung, who sits jimin's cock in his mouth like a good boy. he suckles softly, dazed and faraway. his walls are soft and hot, each gummy ridge stroking and clamping around you to pull you in as deep as possible when you finally, finally come, forcing him over the precipice as well for the nth time that night.

you pet his hair and he leans into it, moaning as you gently pull out, letting him sink into the mattress. thick come drips down his inner thigh, pooling in the dips of the bed. softly, you groan, gathering yourself and lavishing kisses upon kisses over his neck and shoulder. "what do you think, baby? should i fuck the cultist freak?"

taehyung pops off wetly, licking his lips. his chest heaves. it's hard to scoop his brain up off the floor, but the thought of the two people hottest people he knows putting on a show, all for him? "p-please..."

you raise your eyes, and meet jimin's glare with a smirk. "you heard him. don't wanna disappoint, do we?"

"you think you deserve to fuck me? after everything you've done? you don't even kill for a reason," he scoffs. "you're no better than an animal."

"what is it with you and prettyboy here thinking i'm less than human? you cower behind your righteous moral justifications when you take a life and hold me to the same standards, but animals don't have morals. i can only be one, baby, so choose."

jimin glowers.

"you've got me in a box," he admits eventually, and his expression twists as your smile turns gloating. "shut up. you can fuck me – just this once."

"those are dangerous gambling words," you tease, but lay back against the headboard, one hand behind your head and the other wrapping around the base of your cock. your absence above him makes taehyung blink – hard – before he shuffles after you like a sleepy puppy and buries his face in your shoulder.

his thighs still twitch every now and again, and he lifts his unfocussed gaze to meet jimin's. it clears, just enough, for a fat, satisfied grin to spread across his face and he shifts to spread his shaky legs, showing off the warm glazed mess between his thighs like a piece of art.

jimin's cock throbs. taehyung grins lazily, knowingly, eyes half-lidded and hungry. he slides your slick cock between the vee of his fingers and flicks his wrist. a pearl of precome beads along your slit and follows the line of a vein, gathering eventually along taehyung's slender finger.

unwise, a voice whispers in his head, regal and maternal, yet youthful.

with a sigh too breathy to be accidental, taehyung splays his fingers over his lips and tilts his head back, taking one finger at a time against his scarlet tongue to clean it. his lashes graze his cheeks. his eyes are black corridors of velvet, and he gives jimin's invisible leash a tug with a curl of his pretty fingers.

it was never that taehyung made it too hard to say no. he made it far too easy to say yes.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Eleven: red ink

tw: animal cruelty/death

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.”

Joseph stands at the center of the living room in plaid pajamas, an airplane themed blanket tossed over his shoulders, and a pout on his face. A bright red dusts the waterline of his eyes as he rubs at them like he can will his prostration away and hide it beneath the blanket he pulls tighter around him. He wants to smother it until it vanishes, or is small enough to at least hide from his mother. 

“I know you’re excited, big guy, but you gotta. Stanta’s coming tonight, remember?” Beth coos. She’s kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders as if afraid he’ll lose balance and fall asleep at any moment. The poor thing is dead on his feet, swaying as the silent lullaby of slumber beckons him to give in. “He can’t do his job if you’re awake, now can he? Besides, the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner tomorrow will come.” 

Just as Joseph begins to yawn, Tommy swoops in behind him, arms wrapping around his small frame in a bear hug. He’s instantly swaddled, blanket pulled tight around him as if he were a mummy, leaving him no room to fight or struggle. Soporific giggles escape the boy’s chest as his father lifts him into the air, limp legs dangling and swaying as they begin to march off towards the back of the house. 

“C’mon,” he urges, playfully grunting as if the child’s weight is too heavy for him. “I’ll tuck ya in nice and tight. Gotta build up your energy for tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Okay,” Joseph yawns back just as his mother joins in behind them. 

Everything is warm. Viridity shrouds your eyes with rose tinted glasses and the glow of the Christmas tree diffuses like little halos. You are elated—happily content being shoved against Simon’s side, legs curled underneath yourself on the couch, head resting against his shoulder. Something sordid still lurks there between the fibers of your muscles; the sinews that hold you together. A pestilential rot that refuses to wash clean, but for the moment—at least—it’s nothing but a gentle vibration. A meaningless hum in your bones that doesn’t quite reach your brain. 

Mindless fingers trace Simon’s forearm as you study the ink that bleeds into his skin. It’s dark—sharp shapes and deep shadowing gives each piece depth, and still they blend together seamlessly. Many of the pieces blur in your vision—skulls and smoke—but there’s one that pops. One that steals the focus of your fingers as you circle it over and over again. 

It’s a fox. A simple, small fox. Every other piece on his arm is in black and white except for this one, which sports the same crimson fur you’re used to seeing. She’s a beautiful creature sitting proud and tall on the inside of Simon’s forearm with shining eyes and a curious, fluffy tail. Your index finger presses into her nose—his skin is so warm you swear you feel her exhale. 

“Havin’ fun?” Simon humors after a moment of letting you wander. 

“I like your fox,” you smile, head still pressed against his shoulder. 

“I like her, too,” he concurs with a hum. 

You trace the side of her chest before following the curve of her tail with your fingers. “Why is she the only color tattoo you have?”

“Cause she’s special.” 

“Special how?” 

Simon sucks in a deep breath. His ribcage expands, widening his shoulders and moving your body with his, and when he lets go, you sink back into him all over again. His fingers twitch, and you watch his tattoos dance with the movement of his muscles. 

“She was the first tattoo I ever got,” he admits. 

“Yeah? I like foxes. I think they’re neat. They’re very… cute.” You hum, fingers still dancing on his skin. “Why a fox?” 

Pausing, he tilts his head to the side as if it’s suddenly too heavy for him to hold up. He cautiously rests it on top of yours. “When Tommy ‘n I were kids, mum took us to see our grandparents. They lived in some old cottage in a rural town further north. Had a lot of land with it that we used to muck around in. We were always told not to cross the stream in the pasture because we’d be getting into the neighbors property, but we were kids so we did it anyway. 

“We found a trap in this small patch of trees. You know, one of those cages that shuts behind an animal to keep them there until someone comes along to let ‘em out? There was a fox in there. Scared out of her mind, too. Poor thing was spitting and crying at us when we got close, just thrashing around in the cage. I wanted to let her out, but Tommy said that someone else would come by to take care of her, so we didn’t bother.” 

As you listen to his story, you find your fingers slowly dwindling in their movements. Everything suddenly feels colder as you stare at this artwork. You wet your lips with your tongue. “And?” 

“And we left,” Simon continues. “Came back to Manchester. We didn’t visit our grandparents again for another year or two, but when we did, I crossed that pasture again. She was still there, stuck in that cage. Starved to death. Left to rot. Dunno why I got so mad. I ran out to the neighbors house and pounded on the door until my hands nearly bled. Mum dragged me off before I could do any real damage, but I never forgot it. Never forgave them for it, either. Guess I got this as a tribute to her. Not that it makes her any less dead.” 

You see his story clear as day as Simon shares this piece of himself with you. You see the verdant field with its hidden, rusty cage. The withered creature trapped behind bars as its fur darkens and decays over time. A young Simon Riley as he stomps up to some house and demands answers—demands justice. Your fingers trail further down his arm, ghosting by his wrists. It’s strange realizing that he’s always been this way; that he’s always been so selfless. 

Always helping poor creatures who spit and trash at the sign of help.

“That’s so nice of you, getting this for her,” you whisper. 

“Is it?” he challenges, unconvinced. 

“I think so,” you shrug. 

“It doesn’t really make much of a difference.” 

“It does,” you insist. “You get to keep her alive in some way. She might have died for nothing then, but she lives for something now.” 

Simon doesn’t answer you. You’re not sure if he believes you or not, but you’re glad you’ve at least sowed that thought into his mind. When the silence drones on for too long, your jaw unhinges in an uncomfortable yawn as your eyes begin to water, exhaustion pulling at your body like the damned attempting to drag you into your grave. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” Simon asks. He doesn’t move—he stays politely still as you blink the bleariness from your eyes. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a chuckle. You lift your head from his shoulder, and the absence of him feels wrong. When you turn to look at him, you find Simon already staring at you. 

“Been a long day,” he agrees. Long legs stretch out in the empty space in front of him before he scoots away from you and stands. “C’mon, let's get you settled. I’ll show you the room.” 

A weightlessness lifts you off the couch as you trudge after Simon, following in line behind him as you wander into the back of the house. Quiet giggles bleed through one of the doors you pass in the hallway, and you can’t help but chuckle as Joseph—once again—declares his excitement for Christmas tomorrow. His joy emanates from the door as if the room is too small to hold back the cheer of a young soul. 

Simon leads you to the end of the hallway at the very back of the house. A room sits tucked just across the bathroom where a lamp illuminates a queen sized bed with argentine sheets. Barren walls close the room in, but you find that if you squint hard enough you can see old marks. Tiny holes from long gone tacks—perhaps used to hold up posters. It’s painted over; hardly even visible. A slight dent makes its home next to the door where the doorknob rests against the wall. 

“Used to be my bedroom,” Simon informs, shoulder leaning against the doorway as you step in. “Well, mine ‘n Tommy’s anyway.” 

Your thoughts are flooded as you picture Simon as a child again. Small frame, smooth skin—or maybe he was always large. A heavy, broad boy who gave his parents trouble as he ran around the house causing mayhem. An imagined giggle echoes in your mind, a shrill squeal of unadulterated joy. You wonder how often the two of them played together here, the secrets they would whisper to one another at night, and the endless bickering and kvetching. 

You’re only brought back into your body when you notice that his bag is sitting next to yours at the foot of the bed. 

A blink clears your vision and it’s still there. Two bags. A single bed. The steady thudding of your heart leaps into your throat where it makes its new home. It’s impossible to swallow, to force it into submission, back into the cage where it belongs. Stiff joints refuse to work with you as you turn to face Simon. He looks around the room wistfully, yet with a tinge of something darker. Something haunted. 

“Are… are you and I sharing this room?” you ask timidly. 

He nods. “Mum’s got her bedroom upstairs, Tommy ‘n them got the old office, so we get the guest room.” He pauses, eye scrutinizing your face before he pushes away from the door, heavy feet causing the floor beneath him to creak. “That alright?” 

Choking on your words, you stutter through a sheepish smile, though you’re not sure it’s enough to cover how mortified you are. Molten blood suffocates your veins, and you feel it coagulate and clot. Really, it shouldn’t mean anything; sharing a bed with someone. You and Aelin have shared beds plenty of times together and it’s never meant a thing. 

Does it only feel terrifying because you want it to mean something this time?

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. I just- I’ve never- erm.” All you can do is spew nonsense. It worsens the heat building in your face, bleeding through your skin, antagonizing the tips of your ears—you wish you would just shut up but you always have to explain yourself in some way. 

“Hey,” he says, raising a hand to stop you. “If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine. I can always sleep on the floor, or out in the livin’ room if you don’t want me here at all.” 

For a moment, your brain entertains the idea of him in both scenarios. A hardwood floor is hardly a proper surface to sleep on, and the thought of him shoving his large frame onto Mrs. Riley’s small loveseat nearly makes you cringe. 

“What? No, I can’t do that to you. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor in your own home. Or, at least your family’s home,” you retort earnestly. “I can take the couch.” 

“Not happenin’ sweetheart,” Simon says as a small smirk pulls at his lips. “Really think I’m lettin’ you sleep anywhere but a proper bed? If you’re comfortable with it, we’ll both take the bed, and if not, then I’ll take the floor, or you can kick me to the couch. Those are your three options.” 

“But-”

“No. No nuances here.” It isn’t until his hand brushes against your arm that you realize just how close he is to you. His attention drifts, fingers picking at a piece of fuzz on your clothes before flicking it somewhere to be forgotten on the ground. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ve slept on worse before. And you’ll only hurt my feelings a little bit,” he teases. 

While your body freezes, your mind is nothing but a whirlwind of thought. Torturous, you feel trapped; unable to speak your thoughts. How do you tell him that you don’t think you can sleep next to him not because you’re uncomfortable, but because you’ll crumble at his touch? Because you’ll fade into nothing but soot and ash that would blow away at the mere huff of his mirth? You’d lay next to him, and like Icarus, you’d melt before you even get to brush against his warmth. 

And still—you refuse to let him sleep on the floor. 

“No. No, it’s fine. The bed is good,” you say with a stiff nod. 

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Certain?”

“Certain,” you repeat. 

He stares at you for a moment too long and you feel your bones morph into jello. He’s giving you an out—the time to change your mind. Gelatin muscles and rubber tendons; you’d collapse if it weren’t for the panic constricting in a spiral around your body. You swallow it down, willing it away just long enough to convince him you’ll be fine. 

“Alright,” he says as he takes a step back. He glances at your bags, still sitting neatly next to one another, before nodding. “I’ll step out. Let you change. Gotta grab presents out of the car anyway, so take your time.” 

After confirming the plan, Simon begins to back out of the room. Hand on the door, he begins to shut himself out, though he quickly pauses in order to point at the bed. “I get the side closest to the door, yeah?” 

“Okay,” you nod.

You aren’t able to breathe properly until the door latches shut behind him. Your knees nearly give out as you sigh. Stumbling back, you collapse onto the springy mattress and throw your face into your hands in an attempt to muffle your groan. How anyone can stand to be around you when you’re so gauche is beyond you. Your mother always told you that you would outgrow this awkwardness one day. Turns out, you’re just as small as you’ve always been—you haven’t outgrown a single thing. 

The only thing that calms your thoughts is a series of gentle, controlled respires. Anxiety sizzles then fizzles out, leaving your nerves scorched, but not completely useless. You rise. You shuck off your dirty clothes and allow fresh pajamas to hold you close—something you’ve yet to ruin. 

You stare at the bed, and it stares right back at you, just as confused. How the hell are you going to have any room on this thing with someone as large as Simon laying next to you? 

A problem for later. 

Simon is in the hallway when you open the door. He stands with his hands shoved into his pockets as he faces the wall, eyes blankly staring at picture frames. Dozens of them sit in asymmetrical lines, haphazardly shoved together. Nothing but a collage that had suddenly grown too large to fit properly. If he notices you—which you’re certain he does—he doesn’t say anything as you cautiously approach him, eyeing the glinting glass. 

Some of the pictures are old—much older than either you or Simon. Black and white film displays a young, happily married couple. They grow and morph throughout the series of photos. Love slowly decays over time until it rots into nothing but contemptment. There’s undersaturated photos with brutal lens flares burning the images, and other digital pictures with crisp quality. The younger the film becomes, the older the couple gets. The more their smiles fade. 

Swallowing, you stare at the man. There’s something familiar about him with his dark eyes and tight lips, but that recognition fades as he gets older. He becomes skinnier. Wastes until his flesh pulls at his bones like a skeleton with sunken eyes, gaunt face, and sallow skin. His stomach distends, dark eyes dull with a benevolent hate for anything within his gaze. He vanishes from the pictures eventually where he’s replaced by kinder, softer faces. 

“Who’s that?” you ask. Your finger points to the wasting man as if the gesture alone might shatter the frame. 

Simon is silent for a moment before he responds. “My father.” 

“Oh,” you chirp meekly. A part of you already guessed. You see the parts that Simon shares with him—how eerily similar they are to one another. 

“He’s dead,” he says, answering the question burning on your tongue. 

You swallow. “I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Huffing, Simon shakes his head. His weight shifts but his eyes stay glued to the pictures. It takes a moment for him to loosen his jaw enough to respond. “I’m not. Glad he’s gone. His bad habits had to catch up to him eventually.” 

His brutal reply catches you off guard. You don’t think you could ever be glad about either of your parents being dead. It’s… a strange thought to have. One you’re not sure you can hold against him. Never for a moment did you revel at either of your parents' funerals. Really, you couldn’t stop crying. 

Then, you think of sharp blades—gasping breaths—blood on linoleum—and you remember that some people’s parents don’t deserve to be mourned. 

“Well, that’s something we have in common at least. Dead dads, and all,” you attempt to humor. 

Much to your surprise, it works. A gentle titter reverberates in Simon’s throat as he finally tears his eyes away from that dead, wasted man and looks at you. His eyes gleam in the pale living room light that bleeds into the hallway. The gentle glow melts the darkness of his irises until they’re pulsing and smooth. He’d melt in the palm of your hands if you asked him to. 

Maybe he already has. 

It isn’t long before you’re under freshly washed covers with your head on an unfamiliar pillow. The only thing that is familiar is Simon—the scent of him especially. That faint, smothered nicotine and fresh cotton. You wonder if he can feel the thud of your heart ring throughout the mattress, or if its reverberations crawl up his spine like the heat of him crawls up yours. 

There is something strange about forcing yourself to be apart from him after being glued to his side for most of the evening. Like driving a wedge between two magnets, you feel his pull like you’re the earth and he’s the sun. Forever caught in the cosmic storm of one another. Yet, something even stronger holds you back. 

It’s all consuming—this terrible obloquy that fluctuates in weight. One moment, it’s as light as a feather. Some timid thing that can do no more harm than a single flake of snow. Other times, it’s a brutal storm. Unrelenting and frigid, tearing you apart at the seams. Perhaps it’s the bed. The connotation. The blood that has yet to soak the sheets and stain the mattress. 

Your blood. Your tears. 

My offer is still on the table if you find yourself having trouble.

Your heart trips. It stumbles on itself, skipping a beat and forcing your blood to run cold. No matter what, you always carry a piece of him with you. He shoved it inside of you like a blade, and you’ve been too terrified to rip it out. Too afraid to see how much blood would come with it. Too afraid to witness the rot that’s festered inside of you because of him. You’re choking. Breath caught in your throat like a windpipe between slender fingers. Eyes bulging. Ears ringing. Soft lips on skin hiding sharp teeth waiting to tear you apart. 

You sit up like you’re able to run from the feeling and leave it far behind, but it doesn’t help. It’s still here. Writhing beneath your skin like maggots. Burrowing into your bones. It’s always here. It will always be here. Dormant and waiting to erupt. To tear open the tender flesh that only a monster covets. Your body has not belonged to you in years—you fear that it never did to begin with. 

You might never belong to yourself again—not with this infection. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Simon’s gentle susurrus hardly reaches you. It’s dull and cottony. Your head snaps to look at him in the darkness of the room and you see the fuzzy outline of his frame laid flat on his back. One hand rests behind his head, opening up the arm closest to you like an invitation. You swallow. Your throat is dry and sticking to itself. You try not to tremble. 

“Can’t sleep.” It’s blunt. Quick. If you speak any further you swear you’ll deteriorate. 

Cautious fingers brush against your arm, forcing your skin to twitch at his presence. He pauses, then moves slower, torso curling as he lifts himself off the bed to further his reach. His arm snakes around your back, and then to your shoulder before he carefully pulls you back down to earth. 

“C’mere,” he says before leaning you back with him. 

Anxiety quells into confusion as Simon situates you on your side, head resting on his chest. His arm stays around you, supporting your head as his hand lays politely on your waist. Ragdolling, you go along with him as his free hand grabs yours. His thumb gently prods your fingers, prompting your fist to relax and unfurl before he places your palm flat on his chest and right above his heart. His breaths come heavy and deep, chest expanding beneath your palm, prompting your own diaphragm to do the same. 

Your eyes grow heavy as you listen—breathe and listen. Your good ear presses against his chest, and you can feel his steady pulse beat against your cheek. It’s strong—hypnotic. Eventually, the tightness in your chest wanes and your body goes limp in Simon’s arms as you’re lulled to sleep while he rubs soft circles over the back of your hand.

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[humanpurposes]

De Jure

In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Main Masterlist // AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping

Words: 4121

A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)

A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.

It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.

Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself. 

Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.

He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.

What if they know? How could they? How could they not?

Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.

After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”

She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather. 

“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.

He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.

She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.

Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.

“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.

Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”

A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.

“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”

One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”

Desperate. What does that make her?

“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”

They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin. 

“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.

Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.

She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”

The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.

She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.

“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway. 

She turns to face her.

“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”

She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.

“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”

The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter. 

The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.

They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.

She looks to Aemond for an instruction.

He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.

Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.

He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.

“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her. 

Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?

Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt. 

She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.

“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”

“Jacaerys,” Otto says.

Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”

“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.

“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”

One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”

Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”

She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle. 

“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”

Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips. 

Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.

“I trust your judgement,” she says.

With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.

She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.

Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.

By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s exciting, I promise.”

Exciting to him, clearly.

“Alright,” she says.

Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.

He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly. 

“I want it to be you.”

She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?” 

It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”

“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”

Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.

But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.

It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.

What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?

She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.

“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”

She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”

Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.

Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach. 

It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.

“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”

Aemond frowns.

“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”

When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking. 

“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”

It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.

His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.

She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.

Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”

Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.

She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.

“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.

He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”

He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”

She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,

“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?���

“What would you be giving up?”

Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.

Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin. 

“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”

It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.

“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”

The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.

Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.

He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.

“I’ll do it,”

His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.

She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.

He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.

He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.

“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.

“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.

He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.

She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.

His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.

It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.

He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.

She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.

“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”

She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth. 

Aemond stills. “We can–”

“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”

His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.

Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless. 

He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.

He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”

“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.

“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.

Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.

Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”

She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.

“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained. 

Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.

“Aemond?” she breathes.

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”

The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”

He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.

He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.

Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.

He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.

She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”

[heevee-likes-soup]

San x Reader |1K- 1 Trope|

>> 1K- 1 Trope series: A start of me to start publishing/ Get back into writing, 1 character, 1 Trope, 1 K words <<

>> First Kiss<<

>> Summary: Joining your friend as a plus-one at this random house party sounded like a fun idea. Something different, right? Well, what you didn't expect was to be left alone, and now find yourself serving your 7 minutes in heaven with the cute hallway-boy. <<

>> Rating: Fluffy/ SFW <<

It was such a stupid game, you thought to yourself. Such a stupid game that you didn't even know why you participated in. You felt pressured, that was it. You were at a birthday party, you tagged along as a plus one and after about half an hour your friend was nowhere to be found.

They took mercy on you, and let you join their circle, you should be thankful, and yet you couldn't help but fight the lump of nervousness inside your throat. You didn't really go to such parties that often. If so, you were usually accompanying a friend. It had little to do with how extroverted or introverted you were, but the prospect of sitting around and drinking with people you didn't know just didn't thrill you the same way it did some of your friends-

And see where that got you.

The closet was smaller then it looked from the outside, and the fact that you could feel San's body heat radiating onto yourself was enough to make you blush furiously and want to leave. On top of the small closet- San wasn't a small guy. Not anymore at least. The introverted guy who chattet you up at the beginning of Highschool about your Pokemon plushy keychain was only a memory by now.

This San, was broad, went out and was part of the sports team. Yet he still smiled just as cutely, and seemed just as nervous as you imagined when the bottle landed on you and him. To say he was your crush was an overstatement- a hallway crush was a better way to described it. The two of you didn't talk much, the occasional chat in the hallway or in class, but nothing beyond that.

To you, San looked like this since only yesterday, but most people only knew him as this athletic- arguably sexy guy.

"So… what do we do?" You asked, into the dark of the closet. You only got a small chuckle as a response. A laugh that was a little too adorable for the muscle mass that was rivaling your personal space. "You mean usually, or what we do here? Because we don't have to do anything." You could hear the smile in his voice. It made you huff out a small laugh as well. "I know what people usually do with seven minutes in heaven, San." You chuckled in response.

"So, do you want to?" The question hung thick in the air and made your mouth fall dry. Something inside you was nervous about being this close to each other- but your mind didn't even take into consideration that CHOI SAN of all people, might be the one wanting to-

"what?" you asked, a little in disbelieve, gaining a small laugh from him. "What do you mean 'what'? Y/N… only things you want to are happening in here." He was being so sweet, and something inside you felt a little bad that this was what he assumed you were nervous about. "No.. I-" it was laying heavy on your tongue. Because… "Do you"want to?" The way he let out a soft chuckle, made you feel warm. "Y/N, why would't I?" It made you blush, furiously, and it made you thank the heavens that invented this bullshit to not put lights in a closet.

"I somehow just assumed you'd not want to kiss me." you spoke truthfully. It was meant very matter effect.

"That'd be so foolish of me-" he said, one of his hands carefully raising up, very gently testing the waters as he placed it onto the side of your face. "Y/N, you're one of the nicest people I've ever met."

Your breath felt like it stopped- you felt like you had to reboot yourself. In no fucking way was this how your first kiss was gonna go. You felt nervousness settle in your throat like a thick slime, making talking hard. What were you suppose to do? Tell him not to do it? Ask him to do it? Should you instigate? In movies it always looked like neither of them thought about it much- so was this even the right moment when you were so painfully hyper aware and overthinking it, even?

"Y/N, are you nervous?" San asked, voice gentle, yet laced with a smile on his lips. He always was just so carefree- "Most people only started inviting me to things after they declared me with some official popular 'hot' mark" he spoke gently. "You never treated me any different, you were always… a ray of sunshine." This made the slime in your throat cloak up even more. What was he doing talking so sweet to you, while you could feel his warm hand caressing your cheek?

"I never kissed anyone" you blurted out a little. After a second of silence, it was San's soft laughter that filled it, as he retrieved his hand. "As I said, nothing happens as long as you don't want to." he smiled, and you could feel how he subtly tried to back off into the limited space of the closet.

"No" you then said, a little quieter then you anticipated. Because who else, then the sweetest person you knew, could make for a better first kiss? Then you wouldn't have the pressure on you anymore-

"Kiss me." you said softly, your voice a bit more strained then you wanted it to. The hand gently placed itself back onto your cheek, and you could feel his breath soon brush against your face. It was hot, pleasantly so. "Just relax." he smiled, before he leaned in, crossing the remaining space.

San gently put his lips onto yours, first just resting them there, warm and soft. Then he started moving them, and you soon understood and joined the gentle and slow rhythm- before you knew he pulled back again with a smile. "Was it bad?" you finally let yourself breathe again, shoulders slumping. "No… another one."

[sillygoose067]

Crash Landing Into You pt.2

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Joaquin stood outside the bookstore café, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. He’d changed his shirt twice before coming—settled on a dark green button-up he hoped looked cool but not too try-hard.

When you walked out, he straightened, caught off guard by how nice you looked in your sweater dress, hair down, a small crossbody bag slung at your hip. You had this slightly nervous smile, the kind people wore when they weren’t totally sure if this was a good idea.

“Hey,” he said, hands slipping into his pockets. “You look…great.”

You ducked your head, warmth creeping up your cheeks. “Thanks. So do you.”

There was an awkward moment, the two of you trying to figure out if you should hug, shake hands, or just wave. He opted for a slightly dorky half-hug, arm barely touching your shoulder, and you both laughed as you walked in.

The conversation over coffee started cautious, a little stilted. He asked you about your job, you asked him about his, both of you trying not to sound rehearsed.

“So,” he said, stirring his cortado, “ER work. That’s gotta be intense.”

You nodded, wrapping your hands around your mug. “Yeah, it is. I mean… I like it. It’s chaos, but it makes me feel useful. You have to be quick, but you also have to be kind.” You shrugged. “Keeps you human, I guess.”

He tilted his head, genuinely impressed. “I get that. I mean, my whole thing is about quick decisions, too, but usually it’s more… ‘don’t crash into that building’ and less ‘save a tiny life.’”

You laughed, your shoulders relaxing a bit. “Both important. I think the building people appreciate you.”

The date got easier from there. You found little overlaps—shared shows, mutual fears of public speaking, the same guilty pleasure for really bad pop songs. By the time the café closed, you were leaning in toward each other, forgetting to check your watches.

He walked you home, hands brushing once or twice before he finally took yours, and when you reached your door, you lingered there, suddenly self-conscious again.

“I had a really good time,” you said, looking up at him. “Thanks for… this.”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, me too. Can I… text you? Maybe plan something less caffeinated next time?”

You grinned. “Definitely.”

You parted with a soft, slightly awkward hug, and when you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

⸻

By your fourth or fifth date, you’d found a rhythm. You’d made him dinner at your place once—a slightly burnt lasagna he pretended to love, even though the edges were like roof shingles. He’d taken you to a street fair, where you’d nearly puked on a spinning ride but insisted you were fine.

It was after one of those casual, unplanned nights that you found yourself curled up on his couch, legs across his lap, half-watching a terrible reality show while he absently rubbed your ankle.

“I have a confession,” he said suddenly, eyes still on the screen.

You looked over, heart skipping a little. “Yeah?”

“I have no idea what’s happening in this show,” he admitted, looking at you with a sheepish grin. “I’ve just been nodding every time you comment.”

You burst out laughing, head falling back against the armrest. “You liar. I thought you were invested in this trainwreck!”

“Hey, in my defense, I just like listening to you talk about it. You get all fired up.” He poked your shin. “It’s cute.”

You blushed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

But he was also leaning in, thumb tracing gentle circles against your calf, his face closer now, eyes flicking to your mouth.

And when he kissed you, it was soft at first, a tentative press of lips, like he was giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. You leaned in, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, and he exhaled against your cheek, a quiet, contented sound that made your heart do backflips.

⸻

Eventually, he started leaving things at your place. A spare hoodie on your coatrack. His favorite phone charger coiled beside your bed. A toothbrush in the cup next to yours, like some quiet promise.

He’d stay over some nights, both of you too tired to make the trek to his apartment. You learned his little habits—how he hummed when he brushed his teeth, how he always checked the locks twice, how he stretched his arms over his head every morning like he was about to launch into the sky.

One lazy Sunday, you were curled up on the couch, his head in your lap, your fingers absently running through his curls as you read a book. He closed his eyes, a soft, sleepy smile on his lips.

“Is this weird?” he mumbled.

You looked down, brushing a curl off his forehead. “What?”

“This.” He cracked one eye open. “Us. Being this… domestic.”

You smiled, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Not weird. Just… nice.”

He squeezed your knee, eyes drifting shut again. “Yeah. Nice.”

⸻

It wasn’t perfect, of course. No couple is.

The first time you really fought, it was over something stupid—a last-minute mission that took him out of the country for two weeks without so much as a text, and you’d spent every night staring at your phone, convinced something had gone wrong.

When he finally showed up at your door, looking exhausted but relieved, you’d tried to brush it off, but he’d caught the tightness in your voice, the way your arms stayed crossed, shoulders tense.

“You’re mad,” he said, leaning against your doorframe, eyes dark.

You bit your lip. “I’m not mad. I just… I wish you’d said something. I worried.”

He exhaled, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve. I just… it’s hard to explain. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

You hesitated, then stepped closer, your tone softening. “I want you to put it on me. That’s kind of the point, right?”

He dropped his head, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing gently. “I just… care about you. A lot.”

He looked up, his eyes softening. “I care about you, too.”

And the hug that followed wasn’t perfect either—too tight, too desperate—but it was real. And that mattered more.

⸻

It came out one morning, long after the sun had risen, when you were both tangled up in your sheets, half-awake, still groggy from the night before.

You were draped across his chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing the faint scar on his shoulder, your head tucked beneath his chin. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you close, his thumb brushing the soft skin of your arm.

He yawned, stretching a little, then mumbled, “You know you’re my favorite person, right?”

You smiled, eyes still closed. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, voice sleep-heavy. “I’m serious. You… you make everything feel… different. Lighter. Even the hard stuff.”

You blinked, waking up a little more, feeling the weight of his words.

“I mean,” he continued, a nervous chuckle in his throat, “I’m still a mess, obviously. But you make me want to be less of a mess.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “Are you trying to tell me something, Torres?”

He hesitated, eyes searching yours, his heart clearly picking up speed. “Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “I love you.”

Your breath hitched. It felt like the air in the room shifted, the world suddenly sharper, brighter.

You swallowed, felt your heart pounding in your ears, then leaned down, pressing your forehead to his.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your nose brushing his. “A lot.”

The relief in his eyes was immediate, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that felt both urgent and deeply, deeply right. Like a promise sealed.

⸻

A few months later, he got hurt. Nothing critical, but enough to shake you both.

He’d been out on a mission, one of those chaotic, high-stakes ones that Sam swore would be quick and easy, and he came back with a gash along his ribs and a limp that made your stomach drop.

When he stumbled into your apartment that night, his uniform torn, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, you froze.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, rushing to his side. “Joaquin, what happened?”

He tried for a reassuring smile, even as his knees buckled a little. “Nothing. Just… took a hit. It’s fine.”

But when you peeled back the fabric and saw the jagged, bloody line across his ribs, you felt a wave of nausea hit you.

“You’re bleeding,” you hissed, guiding him to the couch. “Why didn’t you go to med bay?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, wincing as he leaned back. “I just… wanted to see you.”

Your heart twisted, both at the stupidity of it and the tenderness. You grabbed your first aid kit, kneeling beside him as you started to clean the wound, hands shaking slightly.

“Dios, this looks bad,” you muttered, biting your lip as you worked. “You can’t just… walk around with this.”

He let his head fall back, exhaling shakily. “I knew you’d patch me up. You’re surgeon, right?”

You shot him a look, half angry, half terrified. “Yeah, for kids.”

He reached for your hand, catching it even as you tried to swat him away.

“Hey,” he said, voice suddenly serious. “I’m okay. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

You paused, meeting his eyes, and felt your chest tighten.

“Promise me you won’t do this again,” you whispered, your voice cracking a little. “You can’t just… come back to me like this. It’s not fair.”

His grip tightened on your hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

“I promise,” he whispered back, eyes softening. “I’ll be more careful. I swear.”

And when you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his, his free hand came up to cup the back of your neck, holding you there like you were his whole world.

⸻

Eventually, you stopped keeping track of which things were his and which were yours. His spare hoodie became a permanent fixture on the back of your desk chair. Your favorite blanket migrated to his couch. He started leaving spare socks in your laundry basket, and you stopped pretending you cared.

One morning, you caught him singing in your shower, a horribly off-key rendition of some old R&B song, and instead of being annoyed, you found yourself grinning like an idiot.

He came out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, hair dripping, and caught you staring.

“What?” he said, a little sheepish, grabbing for his shirt.

You shook your head, blushing. “Nothing. Just… you’re cute.”

He paused, then broke into a wide, teasing grin. “Oh, I’m cute, huh?”

You tossed a pillow at him, laughing as he ducked. “Don’t push it, Torres.”

But as he crossed the room, pulling you into a damp, soapy hug that made you squeal, you realized you hadn’t felt this happy in a long, long time.