#but knowing other people turn up is always pretty cool so ty again I appreciate it !!

[vimbry]

everyone who actively chooses to come watch me be bad at video games for over an hour

why

ty

[landinoandco]

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in. 

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control. 

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice. 

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail. 

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins. 

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look. 

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started. 

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time. 

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through. 

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.” 

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter. 

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up. 

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you. 

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you. 

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max. 

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully. 

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not. 

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up. 

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando. 

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.” 

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced. 

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together. 

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.” 

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando. 

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away. 

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips. 

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist. 

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone. 

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.” 

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.” 

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door. 

Distracting the stream from his slip up. 

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own. 

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there. 

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing. 

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms. 

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well. 

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were. 

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera. 

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath. 

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips. 

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration. 

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?” 

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile. 

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been. 

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.” 

He had already started it...

[keimisan]

ahhh ty for doing the event :) can i request fluff + "Don't forget among the cloudy dark, you're a star painted with a left hand" (Celebrity-IU). I'm an introvert & rather blunt, look intimidating irl but im sensitive and pretty much only opens up to my besties. tbh my way of lettering sums up my entire personality =) if i were to be shipwrecked i would either have a meltdown 24/7 or just bother the loml as a distraction. My fav animal is koi fish & my ideal date is going to the cafe or an art exhibition. idc much about affection as long as it's from my close friends.

↪ star painted with left hand- s. inui

pairing: seishu inui x gn!reader

wc: 803

a/n: hiii!! your description matches with — inupi! seishu inui is soft-spoken and would be compatible with your personality. while you're both seemingly intimidating but are softies inside, seishu is someone who'll appreciate your little features and aid you in any situation he can. your style of lettering and gradients vaguely remind me of chifuyu and inui, but your ideal date totally made me pair you up with the stoic boy.

"seishu?" your voice resonates through the hallway, hands fluctuating to feel the surface of his living room switches, eager to turn the lights on.

you knew he was at home, he usually was; partly because it was a place where he promised you could always find him in, and partly because he liked to seclude himself whenever his heart hinted a downpour in his feelings.

your feet promptly halts in front of his room, eyes glooming at the shut door that ensured his presence. Albeit upset, a heave of gruff stones cannoned upon his sensitively strong miens. but you hoped he hadn't indulged too far into his own destructiveness, too far into his disconsolate conjectures that weren't true in the slightest.

"seishu, can I come in?"

it's a low hmm that allows you to slide the door open, speckles of light seeping through the windows that accentuated his back amidst the darkness of the room.

"what are you thinking about?"

seishu turns around to respond with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "nothing much,"he says.

he wouldn't tell you this easily, of course. he never did.

you slide your legs beside him, sitting yourself down on the cool surface as you too, gaze far into the evening distance; waves of illuminated colours shimmering against sinuous tree leaves, the street bustled road now a cloudy reminder behind a few feet and calming silence- seishu liked this, the subtle insinuation of presence yet so hollowly calming. he liked these minute perfections of life, and so did you.

with a sigh, you speak, "tell me at least. I can try to help you know."

"you just being there helps me," the latter keeps the somber smile stitched on his face, as if to reassure you, not himself. and then, he heaves a deep breathe, fingers chattering with the cold wind that returns from its escapades every now and then; you watch as the side of his eye trembles, lips straining to pull themselves up as he mutters, "don't you....ever regret being with me?"

your brows furrow, "hmm?"

he looks into horizon instead of his lap yet again, and although his fingers still tangle with each other unknowingly, the rest of him remains prim and advocated, just as stiff as ever.

"people can't even look me in the eye because of how hideous I am," he says as his hand trails up to cover his left eye, pressing on the ends of the surrounding skin that marked a deeper color on the ivory.

"seishu, it’s not because you’re unsightly,"you begin, wondering how awful it was for such a gorgeous person to be lamenting about his beautiful scars, "this little imperfection doesn't flaw you. you're truly one of the most mesmerising man I've ever seen."

you then cup one of his cheeks into your palm, advancing to press one slow yet profound kiss on his forehead- and his scar, then two, and then three turned into four little pecks. you can feel seishu's smile as you do so, and how he lowers his head for you to reach him better.

It was painfully evident how beautiful he was from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice, from his generous opinions to the touch of his hand upon your own. you loved the way his voice quickened when he sparkled with a new idea, or was so enjoying one of yours that he lost himself for a moment and quite forgot the mask he wore for others. so you gave him your heart and kept his safe, that's the way it was.

his eyes are far too soft when you look into their depths, into the translucence of his beauty, "to be honest, among the cloudy dark, you're a brilliant star painted with a left hand."

"because you're a lefty?"

you avert your eyes, "yeah, kind of. also because you’re too, uh, pretty."

“pretty?”

“yes, pretty pretty.”

A tinkle of boyish giggles has your eyes refocused on him, a warm smile covering your own lips as you feel the latter clasp your hand into his, his eyes formed into crescent and smile as beautiful as his soul, "how can I be so lucky…." he whispers, "thank you."

you drop your head on his shoulder along with your blinking eyes staring at the mints and pastels that reflect against the skin of his palm, "but if you ask for my opinion, your appearance and your scars both are equally too beautiful. I envy your genes."

this time, his lips press against your temple as he replies with tenderness etched into every crevices of his lips, "sure, honey."

"wait, i-i'm so sorry, the scars aren't inherited-"

"don't worry about it baby."

taglist: @sxlver-sweet @smilingnekos @sscarchiyo @shinsou-rii

[jostepherjoestar]

Maybe Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Leone friendship HCs with a fem friend thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, she is just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid she is. So basically a smol sweet dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like she just runs up to them saying she want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but she looks so happy xjsbkss 💖

Pure of heart, dumb of ass fem!friend with Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Abbacchio HC��s

sfw // fem reader

lemme just say, reader is baby and that’s valid 🥰this is so adorably pure ugh ya done killed me anon 🥺💖✨(can very much relate tho, glad my friends put up with my dumb antics)

Jotaro:

“Why am I friends with you again? Yare yare...” A phrase you’ll hear every time you’re hanging out with this tall bastard. He’ll tease you for being a bit of a dumbass but is incredibly drawn to how kind, sweet and absolutely thoughtful you are.

You remind him of Josuke and Okuyasu which only makes him like you even more. And the added cuteness-factor made him admit to himself he does indeed love cute things, no matter how adamantly he denies it to you.

His favourite thing to do is bring you along to the beach for field research, knowing just how wide eyed and giddy you get when you’re allowed to collect shells and rocks or even poke a jellyfish. You seem very good at spotting irregularities in your surroundings, making quite the good assistant to Dr. Kujo.

You’re even allowed to help with lab research, studying petri dishes filled with algae as you excitedly point out a very important detail he hadn’t noticed yet, too tired from working such long hours. Sometimes you’re quite the genius without even trying.

More than anything he loves the amount of lightness you bring to his life, his studies and general headspace take a large toll on him. Any relief is a welcome one.

He’ll often find himself smiling at the thought of hanging out again, staring at the collection of trinkets he keeps in a cute little Hello Kitty box you once gave him, which rests on his nightstand as a reminder that it can’t hurt to adapt your lifestyle of mindless giddy; even just the tiniest bit.

Risotto:

Being close friends with Risotto seems a bit impossible without being in his squad, he’s very insistent at keeping outsiders of Passione more than an arm-length away. Good thing that the stoic man is your capo, phew!

He’s apprehensive at first, not really sure why the soft round pebble you brought him reminded you of the man as he studied the mineral, admiring its softness. “It’s like you! Soft and worn down, but very sturdy and unbreakable.” smiling sweetly at him, excitedly awaiting a response.

What was this new feeling of being appreciated and cared for? Risotto’s never really experienced a friendship so pure. He’ll quietly thank you for the pebble and keeps it on his desk, staring in awe as he’s reminded of your kind words every time he spots it.

He knows the others like to tease you for not always being aware of general human knowledge, shooting them an intense glare as a warning to keep any rude comments or jokes to themselves.

Your friendship consists of him mostly listening to you, quietly taking in all the stories you divulge- so full of excitement, telling him facts you picked up somewhere; the source of these often containing varying levels of credibility. He won’t correct you though. (unless it’s something that might actually endanger you)

He values your friendship so.much. He’s not used to being treated so kindly, receiving random gifts, being praised for a job well done, having someone who doesn’t judge him in the slightest. He’ll do whatever he needs to keep you safe, from others and yourself, along with trying to return your kindness and care. (he tries his best and it’s so cute)

(you guys hold hands for safety when you’re out in the city... just saying, it’s adorable)

Prosciutto:

Prosciutto has a chronic case of “caring older brother disease”. Will need to hold himself back from tying your shoelaces for you, the man knows you can do it it yourself but it’s just taking sooo long.

Just like Risotto, you’d have to be a team member to get close to him in any way. Good thing he recruited you ;)

It’s a bit hard to make him open up about anything personal. You feel like he knows everything about you, while you barely know a thing. When he sees your pouty lip and begging gaze that is way too cute to deny, he’ll cave. Perhaps finally realising it’s alright to lean on others.

He’ll still struggle with continuing the openness, but find relief in your loyalty and understanding. The way you intently listen to his troubles, there to hold his hand if he ever needs it, it makes his heart hurt to know how sweet and gentle you are.

Will keep you and Pesci separate during missions, he’s already getting a migraine from imaging everything that could go wrong without his guidance.

For someone who’s a little more on the dense side, you make up for it in emotional intelligence. Whenever you see how stressed he tends to get, eye twitching without even realising while his shoulders hunch together in discomfort, you come over to hug him. It’s something he had to get used to, the small gesture always calming him down enough to keep going.

Does not appreciate you slipping cute trinkets in his suit pocket. Especially not after finding a snail that one time. You’ve been forbidden from leaving pocket gifts since the incident.

Bruno:

It concerns Bruno just how clueless you can be from time to time. That one time they almost left you behind on a busy station with no cellphone because you found a coin on the ground made him realise you need some extra supervision.

He’s not the type to hold you back from doing things that are guaranteed to result in disaster (unless it’s literally deadly), he wants you to experience the consequences of your own actions.

You do make him hold back his laughter when you try out a stupid idea you know has failed in the past, but change your methods slightly to hope for better results. And you know what? Now he’s curious too.

The man has a weird sense of humour that sometimes even surprises you. He’ll copy your habit of picking up strange trinkets or rocks and asks you to compare findings with him. Like trading marbles, he’ll barter with a smirk.

“Mhh, if you give me that cute shell and that pointy rock... I’ll give you this keychain.” His alluring offer making you question if you’re getting swindled or not. “Hey! That shell is at least worth two stickers!” He’ll heartily laugh at your reply, a mischievous smile while thinking over the trade. “Ok, two stickers and a pebble then.”

With a firm handshake the deal goes through. The rest of the gang never knows how to respond, staring in amazement as their grown-ass capo barters with their grown-ass teammate. He loves being silly with you and forgetting all the pressures of life for just a moment.

Bruno takes his time opening up to you, but finds your presence so comforting it becomes very easy to trust you. As a vital part of his team he finds it important to be able to lean on each other for support and is glad you offer him just as much trust and loyalty.

Abbacchio:

Will never admit he can’t live without you anymore. You’ve become the shining beacon of assumed happiness the man never thought existed. He knows you won’t always be go-lucky and have your own troubles and struggles but admires how you handle them.

Don’t get me wrong, he’ll still gladly tease you for your occasional (well, more like frequent) stupidity. He’ll let you know with a big huff you should smarten up; “Read a book that doesn’t have pictures in it for once.”

He’ll be the first to correct any wrong info you’ve been given, unless he thinks it’s funny. Like when Mista made you believe you needed to order dessert at Libeccio or they’ll kick you out for breaking their beloved rule. It’s only when he saw the panic in your eyes when you finished your main course one day -too full for any sweets to come- that he assured you it was a dumb joke. (he’ll put all the blame on Mista)

Abbacchio seems to tether to people who have a positive influence on him without even realising, it won’t be obvious to him, but just like with his loyalty and admiration for Bruno, he’ll make sure you know it once he finds out.

Not that it’s a bad thing, his need to cling to anything that might help him stay afloat just needs to stay healthy. You didn’t even realise your effect on him, you were too busy trying to figure out a way to turn that scowl into that smirk.

After gifting him a handmade friendship bracelet that had the shortened versions of your names spelled on it, he hugged you. So tightly it was suffocating, you were shocked since he’s never been the touchy type. “Leone! I can’t breathe...” He’ll let go after the complaint but that look on his face will never leave your memory. The face of being loved unconditionally by choice, no matter how unworthy he might think himself of it.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 2

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 7.2k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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A few paranormally uneventful days passed. Seohyun hadn't exactly opened up to the group of boys that she was now able to call friends, but she was slowly getting there. It was hard not to smile when one of them cracked a silly joke, and harder not to laugh when they had a battle of wits.

She was slowly getting used to her new school. She was past the stage of being a new kid and the students in her class had stopped giving her those looks. She was unnoticed, and she loved it.

Today, like every other morning, Seohyun got ready for school, tying her hair in a half ponytail, peeking out of the window to check if she should wear her glasses or cap today. She had to hide her eyes somehow, they always betrayed her. She didn't want anyone to think she liked to stare into the space. But then she shrugged and tossed her glasses in the bag, wearing her cap as she went to the kitchen.

Her mother was a very busy woman and she liked to spend almost all her day in her office. She was rarely home even if she had a day off anyway. So Seohyun just made herself some coffee, munching on some cookies as she waited for the coffee to become cool enough to drink.

"I still don't get why you let the housemaid go," Jiwoo popped out of nowhere and twirled around the kitchen.

"Well, I didn't entirely let her 'go'. She still comes by on the weekends, you already know that."

"But still! What's wrong with having food everyday?" Jiwoo pushed her dark red hair back as she tsk-ed at Seohyun.

"For one, I wanted to learn to cook, and the food she made was always too much for just me. I always had to throw it out or give it to someone before it went bad. Mom's never home to eat anyway."

"I actually hate your mom, no offence," Jiwoo looked at her and Seohyun shook her head, "I mean, what kind of a mother is she?"

"A woman married to her work with an abnormal child, I kind of understand why she's like this," Seohyun muttered.

"Nah, you're not abnormal. You're gifted. And you don't appreciate it enough."

"No offence, unnie, but ghosts are the company I'd rather not have," Seohyun rinsed her cup and placed it on the rack, taking her school bag and locking the door.

"What's wrong with me?" Jiwoo asked.

"You're one of the better ones, but only because you had temporary amnesia before you died and you still don't know who exactly you are and why you're a ghost!" Seohyun snorted at the weirdness of all this.

"You think I'd ever be able to recall? Or just be stuck with you forever?" Jiwoo asked.

"I'd rather you try to move around and find out who you are instead of making me look like I talk to myself."

"Ah, you pain me, child. It's all because you have new friends now and don't care about me anymore. Right, catto?"

The black cat, which Seohyun hadn't noticed earlier, meowed in response.

"And, here comes the pretty one," Jiwoo grinned and Seohyun looked in her direction to find San coming their way.

"Pretty one? Seriously?" Seohyun shook her head.

"I mean, they're all pretty, but I like this kid more-"

"Hey," San gave her a smile as he meowed to the cat, who gladly jumped in San's arm when he put them forward.

"This little-" Seohyun stopped, and San laughed. "She never comes when I ask!"

"She likes me more, it seems," San rubbed her forehead and she purred, and they walked in comfortable silence to school the rest of the way.

They almost reached the gates of the school but something Seohyun saw from the corner of her eye made her stop in her tracks.

It was a ghost, yet it was something else. It wasn't someone who had died recently for sure. The man, the ghost if you could call it that, was bitter.

"You okay?" San asked, looking in the direction Seohyun was looking in. To him, it seemed she was looking at a wall.

"Yeah, I-I'm okay. Why don't you go ahead? I'll be right back. I should take her too," Seohyun picked the cat from San's hand, "We don't want her roaming around the school and getting scared, do we now?"

San raised a suspicious brow at her, but nodded as he reluctantly went in.

The man tried approaching Seohyun first, but she motioned him to follow her and went to the backside of the school, where surely there would be very few people walking by at this time.

"State your business," Seohyun said, and the man actually looked taken aback, if his eyes could display some emotion.

Truth be told, Seohyun was always scared dealing with men ghosts and older ghosts in general. Since ghosts could touch her, they were as much of a threat to her as humans. And these old ghosts, the ones with skin that looked grey, almost as if the ghost had started decomposing too, were usually not in their right mind.

"I have waited decades to find the mediator," the man's eyes gleamed rather wickedly.

"Mediator?" Seohyun asked. A rather fancy term for someone who could see the dead. "And why did you have to wait decades?"

"Let's say the mediator supposed to sort my death out met with rather... unfortunate circumstances," the man cleared his throat but his voice was still hoarse as he said, "You have to come with me."

"Well, if you waited decades, can you wait a few more hours? I have school, and please do NOT disturb me during my class," Seohyun made sure her tone was polite as she said this, but the man grunted. Before he could try anything, she muttered an awkward bye and walked swiftly to the gates, letting the cat go. She didn't realize she'd been holding the cat for comfort.

San, who had just witnessed Seohyun talking to thin air from the other side of the road, sighed loudly as he walked slowly to the gates.

San hadn't meant to follow her, but he turned around after a few steps of walking to the building, hoping to offer to come along with her, but when he saw her stop in the middle of the road and look as if she was actually talking to someone, he paused. He knew he shouldn't, but he watched her. And he did not know what to make of it.

Was Seohyun crazy? Didn't look like it. If she was, she did a damn good job at hiding it. When San finally reached class, he saw Seohyun chatting with Jongho. Perfectly normal. Or was she?

San said nothing as he sat in his spot, but he felt her tap his shoulder. He turned around and she asked, "I thought you went to class, where were you roaming around?"

San stared at her light brown orbs, coming out of the trance when she blinked. "I just wanted to walk around a bit."

He saw her frown but then she nodded and went back to chatting with Jongho. San turned back in his seat, and throughout the classes, he kept wondering if that was the reason why she covered her face or eyes.

When school ended, Seohyun said she had to go somewhere and said bye. San made an excuse too and started to follow her. He was going to see for himself, what she was gonna do.

San knew it was impolite to do this. And he knew if she found out, she'd really be angry with him, maybe never talk to him again. This was supposed to be her secret for sure. She would probably never tell any one of them. He wasn't even sure what it was.

Seohyun led him to an abandoned warehouse, and he heard her say, "Why bring me here?"

She paused for a few second, looking around as if for help, and San ducked quickly behind the boxes before she could see her. He couldn't hear her now, but he did get bits about how it was creepy of 'him' to bring her to this place without warning her, and he didn't miss how she kept looking behind her, as if she was waiting for someone to appear or just didn't want to keep doing this.

Who was this 'him'? Her imaginary friend? A ghost? San shook his head, and got on his feet when he noticed her go inside the warehouse.

San crept up behind them, and couldn't believe what he saw.

The locked door somehow unlocked, somehow the chains fell and the door magically opened wide in front of her, without Seohyun having even moved a finger.

What was happening?

Seohyun was asked to come in the warehouse and she couldn't ignore the roaring of her gut that told her something was going to go really, really wrong. She had such a strong feeling some years ago too, and she had barely gotten away from her life then.

All her nerves screamed at her to run, anywhere, just not go in. Where was Jiwoo when she needed her? Seohyun was kind of furious how she was never there for her.

Seohyun watched the old man walk in, looking around, and before she entered, she turned her head once hoping she would see Jiwoo-

Instead, she felt her heart sink as she saw none other than San, attempting to hide as their eyes met.

"Come in now, don't keep me waiting," the man grumbled, and Seohyun shouted an okay to him before she looked at San, hoping to warn him with her eyes as she put a finger to her mouth, telling him not to make a sound and motioning him to stay where he was.

Seohyun went inside, her heart slamming against her chest. This wasn't supposed to happen. San must think she's crazy or worse. Her mind made a mental list of how many ways this could go wrong.

"I used to think mediators ran in the family. But the one who was supposed to help me, he did not have any offspring. I spent so many years in ignorance, not knowing that it was completely random. Just like god picking up a needle in the haystack."

"Cut to the chase. What do you want with me and why bring me here?"

"I have forgotten why I died. And I want to move on. But I can't because I don't remember why I am still here. Someone told me there were various other ways to move on... Let's say I had to try."

As soon as Seohyun saw the growing smirk on the man, she knew it was time to run the hell away. But several bottles came flying at her, and she barely dodged them as they crashed on the wall next to her.

"You don't have to do this! It's wrong! I help dead people move on, there must be a way other than stupid violence-"

But the man waved another hand and now the boxes came flying at her. She was grabbed by the arm and pulled against someone, and she sighed in both relief and horror as she saw it was San.

"Are you stupid! You'll get hurt!" She yelled at him. He just took her hand and ran towards the shelves, hoping to hide from whatever it was that sent flying objects in the air. He almost dragged her until he was sure he was quite away from whatever it was.

"What the hell is happening?" San asked through his teeth.

"Why did you even follow me? Are you stupid?"

"Who is it?" San's grip on her wrist tightened as his eyes searched around.

"It's a ghost, San. Do you believe me?" Seohyun asked, waiting for a snide remark.

"From what I've seen? Sure," San muttered, and Seohyun wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic.

"He's near. Let's move," Seohyun said, and this time, she grabbed San's hand as she led him through the various shelves that lined the warehouse, glad they weren't empty.

A blast shocked them, making them jump in the air as they realized the shelves were collapsing one by one.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Seohyun ran, San matching her pace and she ran her eyes around, finally finding a place to hide. It was a narrow passage between huge containers. Seohyun looked at her options. The man was blocking the entrance so now they could just hide and pray for help or... die. If that's the worst that was to come.

Seohyun dragged San with her to the narrow passage, both of them barely fitting in the small dark place. Now they were side to side but San's body was still half out, so Seohyun pulled him closer, until he was almost in front of him. Since the passage was so narrow and short, there wasn't much gap between them.

San was a bundle of nerves and all, his heart beating wildly. "What's going on-"

"Shh," Seohyun whispered, putting a hand on his mouth to shut him up, "I'll explain everything later, I promise."

San nodded, taking off her hand from his mouth but not leaving it. Seohyun was too busy concentrating on where the man was to notice it. He saw her wince, and she looked at San with apologetic eyes.

"If something happens to us, I'm sorry, San. I'll do my best to save you. The man-the ghost is after me. I don't know why," Seohyun sighed, and San squeezed her hand assuringly.

"I'm with you. Nothing will happen," he whispered, thinking he must sound stupid to say that. But it must have given her some sort of assurance. She put her head on San's chest, sighing again.

The two of them heard the sounds of things getting destroyed alright, Seohyun hearing the man as well, and Seohyun almost cried in relief as she heard Jiwoo whisper her name.

"I can teleport you, but what about him-"

"Either we both go, or we both stay," Seohyun said firmly. She wasn't going to leave him alone.

"Go where?" San asked. Seohyun told him her friend was here and she could help.

Jiwoo looked at Seohyun and a slow grin appeared on her face. "There is something I could try..."

"What?" Seohyun narrowed her eyes at Jiwoo.

"What if I teleport you, but you're still holding San? Would he come with us?"

"I don't know, unnie..." Seohyun trailed, but an idea stuck to her. "It's the same as when I have something with me right? A bag, a cap, something. But that's objects. What about actual humans?"

"Remember when we accidentally teleported our cat once? It was holding on to you and you had forgotten. What if this works?"

Seohyun bit her lip. It was worth a try. "If it doesn't work, promise me we'll come back to San right then."

"But your body can't handle too many teleportations-"

"Promise me," Seohyun insisted, and Jiwoo rolled her eyes as she nodded. "Hurry up, he's closer."

"San, listen to me carefully," Seohyun said. "You know what teleportation is, right?"

San wanted to ask her if now was really the time, but he said yes- from the movies, and she continued, "I'm gonna attempt to teleport you along with me. My friend is gonna do that. You have to trust me."

"No way," San muttered, sighing deeply.

"Yes, you were stupid and brave enough to follow me, so yes, we are teleporting. I've done it before, but I've never teleported someone... normal with me, so this might not work. So if I disappear, and you're here all alone, I promise you, San, that I'll be back within a minute, okay?"

"How am I supposed to make sense of all you're saying?" San's eyes were helpless.

"Just... trust me. I won't leave you alone. I promise. Now, I have to, er, hold you, so she can teleport us. Gotta make sure I take you with me..."

Seohyun heard Jiwoo snicker, and she passed her a death glare. San, tempted to roll his eyes, held her hands.

"I'm afraid I'll have to hold you tighter. You see, when we teleport, we tend to lose what we're not holding tightly..."

"Oh..." San left her hands, and Seohyun muttered 'here goes nothing' as she wrapped her arms around San's waist, surprised that it was so small.

"Hold me tightly, and no matter what, do not let me go, you understand?"

"Yes ma'am," San said as he bent down to place his chin on her shoulder and bring her closer. "This okay?"

"Yes," Seohyun realized she was holding her breath, so she said, "Take a deep breath, San."

San did so, and Jiwoo smirked a little, watching two scared children hug each other. She came forward, holding Seohyun only, and did her magic.

San felt his stomach twist and turn, saw a million colourful stars, almost got nauseous but his only comfort was Seohyun so he held her tighter and shut his eyes. He didn't open them again until he landed on hard ground, his back aching with the impact.

He opened his eyes and saw... nothing.

He wasn't sure if he was blind or not, but he looked down and saw Seohyun half on top of him, attempting to get up, and he realized he had his vision all right.

"Where the hell," Seohyun got up, "are we?"

"I guess your body could only attempt a half trip," Jiwoo said, and San instantly turned at the voice, making eye contact with the red haired girl.

"That's the ghost friend that teleported us?" San asked Seohyun.

"You can see her!?" Seohyun asked, and San looked at Jiwoo.

"I wasn't supposed to see her, was I?" He raised his brow, and Seohyun looked at Jiwoo.

"Hey, kid, nice to officially meet you," Jiwoo said, holding out a hand to him so he could stand up. San tried to take it, but his hand passed through Jiwoo's hand, and he gasped.

"I guess you can only see then," Seohyun bit her lip as she looked around. "Is this where ghosts come when they... move on?"

"That's where I come when I'm not on planet Earth," Jiwoo said, "It's like another plane, you could say, another dimension overlapping ours, except this one is for ghosts."

"What now? Should we try again?" Seohyun asked, coughing a bit.

"You should take a breather first. Your body can't handle it," Jiwoo nodded at her and Seohyun sat down on the ground, putting her head over her knees as she brought them closer, shivering a little. Jiwoo was right, something was happening to her. Like a cold coming to her.

"Is she okay?" San asked Jiwoo, and she shrugged. San ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around, finding no source of light that illuminated the area around them.

So Seohyun wasn't crazy. Somehow, though it made no sense, she could see ghosts, she could touch them. San looked at Jiwoo and opened his mouth to ask something, but then thought against it. Now was not the time.

"I know you have a lot of questions," Jiwoo commented, "Let's try to get out of here first before we have the talk."

"Has she... ever brought someone here?" San asked.

"This is the first time she came here too," Jiwoo said, "Usually when a ghost teleports her, it's quick and efficient. Much like you see in movies or books."

"We should get out of this place quick. I don't want him to come find us here," Seohyun said, getting up.

"Are you sure you're okay? Can you make it back?" Jiwoo asked.

"I have to," Seohyun said.

Jiwoo nodded, and Seohyun looked at San for permission. San came forward and they both held each other tight as Jiwoo attempted to teleport them again.

This time, they landed on soft grass, but the impact with which they did sent them rolling a bit. San's breath was knocked out of him and he coughed loudly, gasping for breath. As soon as he recovered, he looked for Seohyun-

Seohyun was bent rather awkwardly, and it looked like she wasn't moving. San and Jiwoo both rushed to her, straightening her body. Jiwoo checked if she was breathing.

"She is breathing. She must have collapsed from being tired, don't worry, it's happened before too," Jiwoo assured him.

San sighed, looking up at the sky, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He looked around, finding the place familiar.

"Is this... the park near our school?" San asked Jiwoo.

"Yes, I tried to teleport us as close to Seohyun's home as possible, but looks like we could only make it till here."

"What if someone had seen us appear out of thin air?"

Jiwoo laughed. "They'd probably run for their lives. You'd be aliens."

San smiled a little at that. That's exactly what he would have thought if he had seen Seohyun.

"So are you... Seohyun's friend?" San finally asked.

"You could say that. I'm older than her so she always calls me unnie, but I keep telling her to call me Jiwoo."

"Then I'll call you noona," San smiled, making Jiwoo grin.

"She helps ghosts move on. When someone dies and they have unfinished business that they just can't leave behind, they sometimes choose to become ghosts until they get done with that. Seohyun helps them do that."

"That must be hard..." San wondered if it was always as bad as this time.

"It is, but what happened today is not a common occurrence. The man she saw today, he's been dead for a good while and has forgotten his purpose here. I once heard the other ghosts talk about him too. Ghosts like that, you have to avoid them. They're bitter, and usually mean Seohyun harm."

"So now... I can see you, does that mean I'll be able to see other ghosts too?"

"You'll find out soon," Jiwoo said.

Seohyun woke up with a gasp, her eyes wide. Jiwoo helped her sit up, and Seohyun muttered 'water'. San quickly opened Seohyun's bag and fished out her bottle, which she drank hungrily from, some water spilling down her chin as well.

"Slow down, kid," Jiwoo patted her back. Seohyun emptied the whole bottle, wiping her chin, then felt something run down her nose.

"Nosebleed. Do you have tissues?" Jiwoo asked and Seohyun shrugged, looking upwards and holding her nose. Jiwoo searched through her bag but San took out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Seohyun.

"Does this usually happen?" San asked.

"No... it's the first time," Jiwoo admitted. Seohyun nodded too. "When we accidentally teleported the cat with her, she became dehydrated, but that was it."

Seohyun wiped her nose, looking at Jiwoo and she gave her a thumbs up.

"I shouldn't have followed you..." San shook his head, "It's because of me that-"

"You shouldn't have, but I'm kind of glad you did. Jiwoo is unreliable as a ghost friend and who knows what would have happened to me if you were not there? I could have died," Seohyun said nonchalantly.

"HEY!" Jiwoo smacked her arm but Seohyun ignored her.

"But look at you-" San was cut by Seohyun putting her hand up and saying, "I need food, and I mean NOW."

A few minutes later, they were watching Seohyun hungrily gulp down noodles and fried chicken. San had stopped eating midway just to watch her eat with a speed he hadn't ever seen before.

"Are you sure you're even chewing?" He asked, and Seohyun glared at him.

"The food is not going anywhere, Seohyun, slow down," Jiwoo laughed, "seeing you eat like this is making me wish I could eat too."

"Okay, mom," Seohyun said, finally slowing down. They ate the rest of the food silently, then Seohyun decided she'd like some coffee. They decided to walk her home as she sipped on her coffee and answered San's questions.

"Have you ever told anyone?" San asked first.

"Never. My mom only knows because she's, well, my mom and it's weird when a little kid sees stuff nobody else does."

"And what has she done about this?" San wasn't sure if he should have asked this.

Seohyun sighed, "She tried to 'help' me, but then she decided avoiding me was the best way. So now she's married to her work."

"And your dad?"

"He's never been here in the first place."

"Oh..." San faltered, but saw Seohyun shrug. "You can ask me anything, San. You deserve an explanation. Don't hesitate."

"Why can you see ghosts?"

"I don't know that either," Seohyun smiled as she looked at the sky. "Born this way?"

"Would you have ever told us?" San asked. Seohyun stopped walking at that, and faced him.

"To be honest, I've never made friends, San, because of this reason. That someone would find out. They'd never believe me, they'd think I'm crazy. So I don't know if I would have told you guys, ever," Seohyun paused, "But you found out, and you witnessed everything. What do you think?"

San scratched his neck. "I think you're right. I don't think any of us would have believed you. We'd have dismissed it as a joke. But now that I did see everything... It's different now. I hope you understand that."

"You sure you don't want to, I don't know, ever talk to me and all?"

San smiled. "You think I'd abandon my friend just like that?"

Seohyun couldn't help but stare at San, his sharp eyes that grew warmer every time he smiled, how they slightly curved.

"I want you to know that if it was anyone of us, and they had seen what I had seen, they would have never abandoned you. We don't take our friendships lightly."

"That's... good to hear," Seohyun finally smiled. "Do you think they'd believe us if we tell them?"

"They'd need some convincing, but yes, they would. Do you want to tell them?"

"Not yet," Seohyun said, "When the time is right."

San nodded, and squeezed her hand. "If you're ever in danger, you tell me, okay? If you need anyone, or anything, you tell me, got it? You don't have to face this alone anymore."

Seohyun almost cried right there, but she held it back, squeezing his hand back and nodding. They walked a few minutes until she finally reached home.

"Thank you, San. For everything." Seohyun smiled at him, and this time it was a true smile. San was actually taken aback. It felt like she had truly smiled for the first time, unfiltered.

"Anytime," San managed to say, and watched her go in. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the image of Seohyun smiling, but found himself smiling too.

Meanwhile, Seohyun collapsed as soon as she entered, and she allowed herself to cry, both happy and sad tears, happy that someone finally understood her, and sad that it hadn't happen earlier. Jiwoo sat down with her, silently rubbing her back.

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

Seohyun almost slept in the next day, only woken up for school when Jiwoo threw her off the bed for 'sleeping like a sloth'. She couldn't exactly blame her. Seohyun had been so tired that after crying her heart out, she'd only had the energy to change before she collapsed on her bed and slept without moving an inch.

"My whole body hurts like I did some major workout," Seohyun mumbled as she tried running towards school, but gave up. She'd just walk.

"I don't recall you having such after effects after a teleportation," Jiwoo wondered.

"When it's just me, I'm only drained a bit. Like running. But even when I took the cat accidentally, my head hurt a lot. This time it was a whole human."

"Maybe because they aren't meant to be there," Jiwoo shrugged, meowing at the cat who appeared out of nowhere as usual. "Sometimes I think you might have transferred this teleportation thing to your cat too."

"Except 'I' can't teleport. You ghosts can," Seohyun corrected. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't tried teleporting herself home from school. How cool would that have been?

Jiwoo picked the cat and quickly passed it to Seohyun so no one would witness a flying cat. Seohyun draped her over her shoulder so Jiwoo could play with her. As they were walking, they saw San standing in a corner. He waved, then joined them.

"Hi noona," he said, and Jiwoo tried poking San but her hand went through him.

"I guess you can still only see," Jiwoo shook her head, continuing to pet the cat.

"You can touch the cat? And she sees you?" San asked, curiously watching them.

"Ever since we accidentally teleported her, I can touch her. But I'm pretty sure she could see me before too. All cats can, I think."

"Interesting..."

"Were you... waiting for us or something?" Seohyun finally asked.

"I was. I couldn't sleep last night, truth be told. I kept thinking about what happened. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't freak out..."

"I'm more surprised about that," Seohyun admitted.

"Meanwhile Seohyun here slept as soon as she reached home and I had to wake her up for school too," Jiwoo flipped her hair dramatically. Seohyun scoffed at that.

"You must be very tired... Are you okay?" San asked.

Seohyun nodded, and before she could say something they heard someone calling their names. It was Wooyoung and Yeosang. They joined them, Wooyoung putting his arm over San's shoulder as he said, "You're early today. You usually come in last minute."

"I woke up early today," San said casually, his eyes darting towards Seohyun unconsciously. Yeosang noticed that, trying to stop the smile creeping on his mouth as he looked between Seohyun and San. Seohyun gave him a warning glare, one she made sure was strong enough.

As they waited for class to start, Seohyun was resting her head on the desk. She couldn't quite believe the fact that someone now knew who she was, and was not disgusted or freaked out by her. She couldn't stop wondering what the future would be like, what if this group of boys would really get her to warm up to them, and how they would react if they found out.

San turned around in his seat, a frown growing on his face as he noticed how tired she looked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just very, very tired," Seohyun sighed, lifting her head.

"What if the ghost-man comes here?" San asked.

"Oh. I'd totally forgotten about him..." Seohyun bit her lip, "Well, he knows better not to make a scene in front of people, so chances are he won't."

"Chances? That ghost was dangerous!" San hissed, "What if he does come here?"

"Jiwoo must be out on watch. She'd warn me." Seohyun said, and San looked a little relieved at that. "It's not like the ghost can hurt you, so don't worry."

San rolled his eyes. "I'm worried about you, stupid."

"Oh," Seohyun paused. "You don't have to. I'll be fine."

San tsk-ed at her, turning back in his seat. Seohyun stared at the back of his head. Yunho dragged his seat towards Seohyun as he said, "You both are getting along rather well."

"Well," Seohyun slumped back in her seat, "he keeps talking."

Yunho laughed at that, "He's been thinking of names for your cat too."

"I won't approve if I don't like it. He knows that, right?"

"I'll give a good name, don't worry," San turned back in his seat, having overheard the conversation.

"I don't have much expectations from you, to be honest," Seohyun said casually, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I think Jongho there could give a much better name. He looks like he actually uses his brain."

Yunho and San looked at each other and giggled at that. Her observation was true. Jongho was infamously known as the 'only braincell' of the group. Yunho told her that, which actually made her smile.

"See? I know how to spot the smart ones."

"Who do you think is the most dumb one out of us?" San asked, attempting to make puppy eyes so she won't pick him. Seohyun looked at each one of them slowly, then said, "I haven't talked to you all much, but Wooyoung looks like he doesn't really like to use his brain."

The pair of them laughed so loud at that, catching the rest of the boys' attention as Seohyun tried to shut them up. But they were in tears, slapping their thighs as they laughed.

"Can the both of you stop? San you're second dumbest, just so you know."

That just made them laugh harder. The boys slowly came to them, muttering how they wanted to know what was 'so funny that they were howling'.

"She thinks the smartest one of us is Jongho, and the dumbest is Wooyoung," Yunho finally explained.

Wooyoung was laughing at first until he realized and yelled "HEY!" Jongho giggled, looking satisfied.

"Your brain processing is just a bit slow, that's all. No offence," Seohyun muttered.

"I mean, she's not wrong..." Hongjoong made an impressed face.

"Where do I stand?" Mingi asked, "I'm the second smartest right?"

"From below, yes," Seohyun said, making them all laugh. They all insisted that she rank them, and then they'd tell her if she was right about this.

"I don't actually think you're dumb, okay? This is just a joke, don't take it seriously-"

"I know, we all know," Wooyoung assured her, smiling warmly, "carry on."

"...Okay," Seohyun hesitated a bit then started, "Hongjoong is smartest obviously but Jongho is quite smart too? He seems more mature. Then Yeosang or Seonghwa, San somewhere in the middle depending on how awake he is, not sure about Yunho, but Mingi and Wooyoung... well they're pretty close. Because they don't like using their brains..."

"Most of it is accurate," Hongjoong agreed, "Yunho is more lucky than smart."

"Ah.. must be nice to be god's favourite," Seohyun scoffed. "But hey, I like Mingi and Wooyoung. They make you all laugh. That's more important."

Mingi and Wooyoung clapped at that, finally approving.

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

It was finally after school, when San insisted on accompanying her to her home so she would get there 'safe', that they encountered the old ghost right outside her house.

"Get behind me" San protectively pushed Seohyun behind her.

"I appreciate the gesture, San, but this won't work. Use your brain."

"Oh... Right," San scratched his head and Jiwoo, who had also been with them the entire time, stepped forward.

"We can talk this out like civil human beings and ghosts. Then you can decide if you really want to kill Seohyun."

"NOONA!" San shouted in disbelief but she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

"Very touching, all this, but I agree, we can have a normal conversation," the old man said.

"How long have you been a ghost exactly?"

"So long that I have forgotten my purpose, girl," the ghost snickered. "I heard from some older ghosts that killing the mediator by our own hands would make us move on."

Seohyun saw San and Jiwoo both tense. "And you thought you'd check?"

The old man nodded. "The mediator before you... Some other ghost killed him. It was some sort of revenge. He was supposed to help me."

"I could help some other way, because killing me doesn't really sound like a solution to me... Like, think about it. It doesn't make sense."

"Are you sure you aren't saying that because you don't want to die yet?" The old man smirked.

"Oh please," Seohyun faked swagger, "If I had an option, I'd kill me too." San shook his head at her.

"Very well. I'll hear you out."

Seohyun explained that she knew an old shaman who helped ghosts with no purpose to move on. It took some convincing and death threats to Seohyun, but she finally made him realize that it might be his one and only option now, and that he should just 'stop being a pain and move the hell on'.

"If it turns out to be a scam, I promise I'll come for you, whether it helps me move on or not."

"Please do," Seohyun replied nonchalantly. The ghost signaled to Jiwoo and they disappeared.

San turned to see that Seohyun was now leaning against the wall, wiping sweat from her forehead as she sighed in relief. "Nice acting."

Seohyun looked at him once before drinking from her water bottle. She had noticed the disapproval in his voice. She stared at him when she was done, and he stared back for a good few seconds before he finally sighed loudly.

"How can you be so... stupid at times like these?"

"How was that stupid? I talked to him and poured sense into him. And it worked. I don't see the problem."

"Does your life mean nothing to you?" San asked.

"San, chill, it was just acting-"

"Those ghosts can touch you!" San was louder this time, making Seohyun flinch a little, "They can hurt you like any other human, hell, they can hurt you in worse ways than that! How can you be so relaxed when gambling with your life?!"

Seohyun watched as San ran a hand through his hair frustratingly, clearly holding himself back. His whole body was tense, his jaw was set and he was not having any of it.

"Are you done?" Seohyun asked, making sure it came out soft. San shook his head.

"I've been seeing ghosts my entire life. My mom took me to all sorts of people for help. You think I don't know how dangerous it is? I learned from the worst. And I'm old enough and experienced enough to know how to handle rogue ghosts like these. Trust me on that."

"I know you are, Seohyun," San admitted, "I just hate it when you talk about your life like it means nothing. Like you'd have no problem if something happened."

"Let's just say I haven't had something I'd like to live for yet," Seohyun said.

San locked eyes with her. "I'll make it change now."

"What?"

"There's so much to life. I know you haven't had the best life, but you have people you can rely on now. And I'll make sure you'll have something to live for."

"What do you live for?" Seohyun asked, curious.

San smiled. "My parents, my grandparents, my friends. And myself."

"Doesn't it... get too much? Living for all of them... must be hard. And boring."

"What's hard and boring is when I had nothing to live for," San said, "When life became repetitive, and I didn't really love anyone, including myself. But now... I have something to look forward to. And no matter if it gets hard, I'll have people to lean on. So ask yourself this, Seohyun. Is it hard living like me or is it hard living like you?"

San knew his words had crossed her, so he locked eyes with her for a second longer before he waved and left for home, leaving Seohyun wondering if she really had wasted all her life repelling people, and if it really had been a wise decision.

prev - next

[reinerispretty]

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt10

hello!!!!!! we r back with another edition of this fic hehe. thank u all for ur support, i appreciate u so much! it’s also five am and i am not even tired so rip. 

also!! who do u think reader should end up with? i have it decided but i’m willing to hear reasoning and perhaps be persuaded ;)

pt1

pt9

pt11

“So, where do we find this Iroh guy?” Mako asked.

“You think he has any relation to General Iroh?” Bolin questioned. “I mean, how many Iroh’s can there really be, y’know?”

“He’s Iroh as in, Zuko and Iroh,” Korra informed them, and Bolin let out a shocked gasp. While she was nervous about getting her memories back, (Y/N) would definitely be grateful not to be absolutely lost when things were discussed.

A Republic City winter was nothing compared to a South Pole winter. (Y/N) was cold while she slept, cold while she moved, cold while she stood still! Korra’s mom had her wrapped up in so many different coats, furs, and blankets that she waddled while she walked. “How are you okay right now?” She asked Korra as they walked to breakfast together. “I feel like my nose is going to fall off.” 

Korra looked back and flashed her a smile. “It’s all I’ve ever known! You just kind of get used to it.” (Y/N) frowned. She couldn’t imagine ever getting used to weather like this. 

As they sat and ate their breakfast--(Y/N) tried to eat, but the layers made it hard to bend her elbows--they discussed their plan for the day. Led by Tonraq, they would travel by snowmobile to the Spirit World Portal. It was a long trip, so they would have to camp for the night, but the next day they would be trekking through the Spirit World looking for answers. “It’s warm there,” Korra said, nudging (Y/N) with her elbow. She smiled gratefully. 

She decided to ride on the back of Korra’s snowmobile. Bolin would be on the back of Asami’s and while Mako also had his own, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she wanted to have her arms wrapped around him for the entire trip, especially when they hadn’t discussed the things that happened between them. Her and Mako hadn’t discussed things at all, really. She knew they were on better terms since the first time they met, but he was so guarded and she was so scared that anything Mako had to say to her, she might not want to hear. 

So, she waddled over to Korra’s snowmobile. “Mind if I ride with you?” She asked as Korra secured their supplies. 

“Not at all!” Korra said, her face lighting up. Then she cleared her throat and turned her eyes back to tying knots. “Just be sure you hold on tight, okay?” (Y/N) nodded, managing a joking salute. 

She wrapped her arms around Korra’s middle as tightly as she could, but it must not have been enough because as soon as Korra hit the gas, (Y/N) was flung off, landing on her back in the snow. She let out a shout of surprise, followed by a groan as she opened her eyes and saw Korra staring down at her. She wore a humored smile on her face. “I told you to hold on tight!” 

“I was!” (Y/N) insisted as Korra helped her get back to her feet. She pulled some rope from their side pouch and wrapped it around (Y/N’s) waist, then tied it to her own.

“We do this for little kids sometimes, so they don’t get lost in the snow.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her. Korra laughed at the childishness and helped her get back on the snowmobile. Then they were off, (Y/N) much more secured this time around. 

As they rode through the snowy hills, (Y/N) leaned her head on Korra’s back, taking in the sights of the Southern Water Tribe. Far out where the sea was, icy glaciers poked through the inky waters, shimmering against the sunlight. Everything was rather sparkly; if (Y/N) looked at the snow for too long her eyes felt sore. She turned her head and waved a gloved hand at Bolin, who gave her a thumbs up from his position behind Asami. 

Sometimes, when she looked at Bolin, it physically hurt her heart. She knew it was some sort of physical reaction, something her body remembered that her head didn’t. The feeling increased when he had referred to them as being friends. There was nothing wrong with being friends, in fact she supposed that was better than any other alternative, but even now she had always thought there was something more between them. Perhaps she had interpreted everything wrong. There was a giant piece of her memory missing, after all, and all she knew was that she had really messed up Bolin when she had left. It was probably better if they were just friends. Bolin was great and she didn’t want to lose him a second time. 

Their ride was so long that (Y/N) had eventually fallen asleep against Korra’s back, only to be awoken by the snowmobile coming to a jolted stop. She awoke and squeaked in fear, gripping on tighter to Korra. 

“Sorry!” She said. “I’ve never been really good at breaking.” 

“You’re going to tell me that after I spent hours on a giant metal deathtrap with you?” (Y/N) huffed. 

“It wasn’t that bad considering you were snoring into my back,” Korra quipped, quickly turning herself around so she could untie them. “You sounded like a lion turtle.” 

“I don’t even know what that is, but I’m sure you’re wrong.” (Y/N) slid off the snowmobile and began untying the packs. 

“Lion turtles used to carry cities on their backs and bestow the gift of bending to humans occasionally.” 

“Think we’ll find one in the Spirit World to grant me some powers?” (Y/N) asked. “What element do you think I’d bend? I think fire’s pretty cool but-” 

“Oh, you’d be an airbender for sure,” Korra said as she hoisted two packs onto her back. (Y/N’s) face lit up.

“Really! Why do you think that? Is it because of my calm and collected nature?” 

“It’s because you talk so much,” Korra explained. “You’re constantly bending air with your mouth.” She booped (Y/N) on the nose before making her way to the rest of the group. 

“You’re hilarious! (Y/N) called after her, gathering her own packs onto her back. “Why don’t you stop being the Avatar and become a comedian instead!” 

They set up their tents and made fire, which was easy work considering two out of the six people in the party were firebenders. As soon as (Y/N) finished her tasks she sat in front of the fire. She was probably too close, but she didn’t care. It’s warmth, albeit small, made her feel just a smidge less cold than she had been, and she’d take it. The rest of their group soon joined her, Asami sitting on one side and Korra sitting on the other. She appreciated the girls protecting her from any awkwardness that could potentially ensue from being near the boys. 

“I’m thinking when we get to the Spirit World, we’ll try our luck at finding Iroh,” Korra explained. “He’s always got spirits around him, maybe one of them will know who took (Y/N’s) memories.”

“And if they don’t?” Mako questioned. “We can’t just wander around the Spirit World hoping for some clue.” 

“Maybe I’ll start remembering again,” (Y/N) suggested. “Like when Bolin took me to the spot where we met. I got that memory back.” 

“You also threw up and passed out from that,” Asami reminded her. (Y/N) pursed her lips. 

“I can handle it,” (Y/N) reassured them. “At this point, I’ll do whatever it takes to get my memories back.” 

“The Spirit World is magnificent, but it’s also dangerous,” Tonraq said. Night had fallen, and his face was illuminated only by the fire. “They might not be happy to see humans there, especially after what happened last time.” 

“I’m the Avatar,” Korra said. “They have to at least listen to me.” 

“I just want you all to be careful. Whatever took (Y/N’s) memories has to be powerful. Maybe dangerous.” 

“We’ll be careful, Dad,” Korra reassured her father. Tonraq trusted his daughter’s abilities, that was obvious, but the worry he held for her was still evident on his features. (Y/N) swallowed, her mouth feeling dry. She hadn’t really considered that this could be a dangerous mission. If she was being honest, she had never really thought this far ahead. She had spent every day maneuvering around the different dynamics of the four friends, making sure that she didn’t overstep her boundaries or create unnecessary problems. She hadn’t considered what would be waiting for them on the other side of the Spirit Portal, or that the people she had grown to cherish would be put in danger for her sake. 

Asami passed around their food and (Y/N) ate silently, considering this information. Her friends talked around her, but she was so distracted that their comments went in one ear and out the other. Once she finally zoned back in, it was just her, Korra, and Mako sitting around the fire. 

Korra let out a big yawn, stretching her arms. “I’m absolutely beat,” She said. “I think I’m gonna turn in. You coming?” (Y/N) shook her head.

“I think I’ll stay near the warmth just a little longer.” Korra nodded and gave them a sloppy salute as she waded through the snow and to the tent she shared with Asami and (Y/N). It was just her and Mako now. 

She stared at the flames of the fire and how they danced in the cold night air. Should she say something to Mako? This was the first time they had been alone together and neither of them had immediately made up somewhere else they needed to be. They’d be heading to the Spirit World tomorrow, so if there was any time for them to communicate, it should be now. 

(Y/N) adjusted her coat, huddling further inside it. “Want me to make it bigger?” Mako asked, and (Y/N) nearly jumped, surprised to hear him talking to her. She looked at him, eyes wide and not quite understanding what he was talking about. “The fire, you want me to make it bigger?” 

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” She said. Mako stared at her for a moment before making the fire larger and while she had said she hadn’t wanted that, (Y/N) was grateful. It was so hard to be straightforward with Mako sometimes, because of the way he jumbled her brain. It was like she didn’t even recognize herself when she was around him anymore. Before, only one emotion accompanied being around Mako, and that was anger. Now, (Y/N) felt a whole range of emotions when she looked at his amber eyes. “I think we should talk,” She said finally, wincing at how small her voice sounded. 

“I think so too,” And he gave her a half smile. (Y/N) nodded, but both of them remained silent. How should she start? How did people even communicate properly? Perhaps the thing (Y/N) was most excited about getting her memories back was how to talk to people normally. She felt so awkward! 

“Why’d you kiss me?” She asked suddenly, her face heating from embarrassment. Mako’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. 

“Oh,” He coughed. “I mean, well, it’s a little--it’s like--” (Y/N) couldn’t help giggling. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing!” She insisted, biting down her smile. “You just...you seem so tough and confident and aloof sometimes that it’s funny to see you act so...” 

“Embarrassing?” He guessed. (Y/N) shook her head. 

“Normal?” She tilted her head and shrugged. “You don’t always have to wear this tough guy act, you know.” 

“It’s not an act,” Mako insisted, but he and (Y/N) exchanged a look that had them both stifling back their laughter. “Maybe sometimes. People believe you’re tough if you act like it. Keeps you from getting your stuff stolen when you’re sleeping in a gutter.” 

“You grew up on the streets?” (Y/N) guessed. Mako nodded. 

“Sometimes I forget what you know and what you don’t.” 

“Me too, if we’re being honest.” They paused into a silence that wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just full of anticipation. “They teach you how to dodge questions on the streets, too?” 

Mako sighed, running a hand through his black hair. “It’s not easy for me to explain stuff like this. Bolin’s the one that can talk about emotions and feelings.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “Bolin can talk about anything.” 

“When we were arguing on that balcony, I wasn’t just angry at you for being here. You hurt Bolin a long time ago, but watching you be with my brother and knowing that I could never be with you...that hurt, too. You were so close to me that night and something inside of me said I should kiss you and once the idea popped into my head, I couldn’t get it out. I think I hoped that once I did it, it’d be some sort of release. Like a way to get it all out so I’d stop feeling like that.” 

“Was it?” 

Mako looked directly into her eyes. Normally, his gaze would make (Y/N) feel weird and she would have to look away. She couldn’t bring herself to do that tonight. 

“Not at all,” He admitted. “I thought I had gotten over you once you disappeared, but once you came back it all hit me full force.” 

(Y/N) thought for a moment about what she wanted to say. Then, she took a deep breath. “I don’t have any memories to base my feelings off of. But there are certain things, feelings, that I remember that I can’t place. They’re just there.” She placed a hand over her heart. “It happens when I look at Bolin. I remember feelings, like sadness and regret, but I don’t know why. It’s overwhelming sometimes, discerning emotions. The things that I feel for Bolin, they’re like past feelings that I’m remembering. Kind of.” She squinted her eyes shut. She wasn’t sure if she was explaining this right, but she was trying her best. “But when I look at you, now that the anger has subsided, I feel things now. Being around you feels nice and when you talk to me, I feel very...light and relieved. I can barely hold your gaze without blushing, and--and I think about you. A lot more than a friend should, I think.” 

“But,” She continued. “I don’t have all of my memories back. I don’t know how or why I left and I don’t know if things will change once I do.” 

“I get it,” Mako said. “As much as someone with memories can.” (Y/N) gave him a small smile. “And I don’t want to confuse you even more, because I’m sure being around Bolin is confusing enough as it is.” 

“You have no idea,” (Y/N) breathed. 

“I’m glad I told you. Almost two years and I finally admitted to my brother’s ex-girlfriend that I had a crush on her the whole time. This is a big day for me.” 

“The whole time?” (Y/N) questioned. “When did you realize that you liked me?” 

“I think Kya told us that we couldn’t share too much about the past with you, or else you might lose your memories forever?” (Y/N) pouted. “Fine, but if you can’t get your memories back, don’t blame me.” The wind picked up over them and he scooted closer to her so that he wouldn’t have to shout over it.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” (Y/N) said, giving a small salute. She rested her chin in the palm of her glove in order to pay attention. 

“There was this one time when you got to our place. Bolin wasn’t there yet, I think he was out performing tricks with Pabu. It was cold outside, one of the coldest days Republic City had had in a while. You came in and you were like an icicle. You were shaking and had forgotten your coat and decided to walk halfway across the city to our place. I gave you a blanket and one of Bolin’s coats, but your hands were still like ice, so I used a little firebending to warm them up.” Mako remembered the feeling of your hands completely encased in his. “I held your hands for a while, until they were warm enough. I got up to leave for work and you grabbed my hand and pulled me back down onto the couch. You said, ‘Stay, Mako! I love having you around.’ So, I stayed. We talked all day until Bolin got home, and I ended up losing that job, but spending that time with you made it all worth it.” 

(Y/N) sat silently for a long while before saying, “I’m sorry for making you lose your job.” 

Mako laughed. “It’s cool,” He said. “I wasn’t a very good delivery boy anyway.” 

(Y/N) pulled off her gloves, exposing her hands to the cold winter air. “Do you think you could...?” She offered her hands to Mako. He gave her a small smile and nodded, removing his own gloves and taking her hands in his. (Y/N) let out a happy sigh of relief at the feeling of warmth that emanated from his skin. 

“I’m sorry for being so mean to you at first,” Mako said. “I just didn’t want Bolin to get hurt again.” 

“I understand,” She said quietly. “I’d probably do the same if I were you.” Cautiously, she leaned her head on Mako’s shoulder. They sat like that for a long while, staring at the fire as Mako held her hands in his. While she was probably even more confused about her emotions than before, part of her hoped that whatever happened in the Spirit World wouldn’t change how she was feeling right now. She wanted to see where this could go. 

---

Once the cold became too much for either of them to bear, Mako and (Y/N) parted ways. Korra and Asami were fast asleep when she entered their tent and slid into her sleeping bag. She fell asleep quickly, her hands still warm, but it felt like she was asleep for only moments when Korra shook her awake in the morning. 

“One more hour,” (Y/N) grumbled, rolling over to avoid Korra’s gaze. The Avatar scoffed. 

“I already let you sleep in as late as possible!” She gently kicked (Y/N’s) butt. “Up! Spirit World today, woohoo!” A very groggy (Y/N) reluctantly left the warmth of her sleeping bag. The early morning sun was absolutely blinding as she walked out of the tent. (Y/N) let out an unhappy grumble. 

“Tea?” Asami offered, handing (Y/N) a thermos. (Y/N) smiled gratefully at her and took a long sip of the beverage, feeling it warm her from the inside out. 

“Thank you so much!” (Y/N) said. “I needed that.” 

“You were up pretty late,” Asami said, giving her a knowing smile. “Any particular reason?” (Y/N) shrugged playfully as she loaded her sleeping bag onto Korra’s snowmobile. 

“Mako and I finally talked.” 

“And? How’d that go?” Asami glanced over at Mako’s who sleepily nodded at whatever Bolin was excitedly saying to him. (Y/N) lightly slapped her friend’s arm. 

“Don’t stare!” She laughed. “It went fine. We talked about our feelings, actually.” Asami’s eyes widened in excitement and she opened her mouth to say something, but (Y/N) cut her off. “And while there are some feelings there, I told him how until I got my memories back, nothing could be certain.” 

Asami hummed in approval. “Seems like a good resolution.” 

“What’s a good resolution?” Korra came over to tie her own belongings to the snowmobile. 

“Mako and (Y/N) finally talked about their kiss.” 

“Woah!” Korra exclaimed. “Are you guys dating now?” 

“I’m missing like seventy-five percent of my memories and you think we’d be dating?” (Y/N) snipped. Korra shrugged. 

“I don’t know what goes on in your head!” 

“Like I told Asami, it was a good conversation. We talked about our feelings but I said that until I got my memories back, nothing could be done. I mean, what if I get them back and there was actually a non-Spirit World reason for why I was so awful to Bolin?” (Y/N) shook her head. “I was honest about how I felt and I think that’s good progress.”

“You know Korra,” Asami started. “Weren’t you telling me yesterday how much your bag hurt from having (Y/N) hold onto you?” 

“What? No?” Korra said, furrowing her dark brows. Asami elbowed her sharply in the side. 

“Remember? You said she held on too tight? Don’t you think that today you should ride on the snowmobile by yourself, since you’ll need to be at your best Avatar abilities in the Spirit World?” 

“I know what you guys are doing and I’m having absolutely none of it!” (Y/N) insisted. “I’m riding with Korra, end of story.” 

“Oh, I see what’s happening here,” Korra said. She placed her hands on her lower back. “Oh, yep, there’s definitely a tough knot there and it’s all (Y/N’s) fault. I don’t think I can ride on a snowmobile with you anymore.” 

“I thought the Avatar was supposed to bring peace, but all you’re causing is chaos,” (Y/N) hissed. 

“Hey, Mako!” Asami called out. Mako looked over to them, raising a questioning eyebrow as (Y/N) banged her head against the snowmobile. “Do you think (Y/N) can ride with you for today? Korra’s back is absolutely killing her.” 

“Ow~!” Korra drawled dramatically. 

“Uh, sure?” Mako questioned. He walked over to Korra’s vehicle and untied (Y/N’s) pack from it. “I think Tonraq said we were leaving in a few minutes, so I’ll be over there.” 

“Sounds great, she’ll be right there,” Asami said. 

“I’m not going,” (Y/N) said with a shake of her head. 

“I thought you said it was a good conversation?” Korra questioned. 

“You guys are so lucky I’m not a bender and I’m not very good at hand-to-hand combat because--” She shook her fist at both of them. “You’d be getting it!” She stomped over to Mako, a frown etched on her face. 

“Everything alright?” He asked. She let the frown fade from her face. 

“Everything’s fine,” She said with a sigh. “Korra and Asami are just being big pains.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Mako strapped his helmet and placed (Y/N’s) on top of her head, buckling it underneath her chin. He then tied a rope that connected the two of them, as Korra had done yesterday. “Safety first,” He said with a smile. (Y/N) felt her face flush as he helped her onto the snowmobile. Shyly, she wrapped her arms around his middle, and then they were off toward the Spirit World Portal. 

This trip was much shorter than the previous day’s. The portal was only an hour or two away from where they had camped. While (Y/N) was surprised that they had arrived so soon, there was no doubt that they were there, as the portal was a beam of warm yellow light that shot into the sky. It lay in the middle of the woods, only accessible by foot. 

They parked their snowmobiles on the outskirts of the woods. Tonraq began setting up his tent; they had agreed that someone should stay behind with a radio just in case anything went wrong and they needed backup. But to (Y/N’s) surprise, Asami was setting up her own tent as well. 

“You’re not coming with us?” She asked. Asami raised an eyebrow and shook her head. 

“We agreed before you woke up this morning that someone else should stay behind with Korra’s dad to help keep watch. You obviously need to go, as does Korra, and I knew Bolin and Mako would be absolutely horrible if they had no idea what was going on inside. So, I decided to stay.” 

(Y/N) frowned. While the reasoning was sound, it still made her sad that Asami wouldn’t be accompanying them on their journey. She and (Y/N) had developed a real friendship over the last few weeks. They had spent nearly all of their time together. It would be strange, not having her around. 

“Be safe, okay?” (Y/N) asked, throwing her arms around Asami and squeezing her into a hug. 

“You’re going into a completely new dimension and you’re telling me to be safe?” Asami laughed, but she wrapped her arms around (Y/N’s) frame and hugged tightly. “I can’t wait to hear all about your memories.” The two friends parted and (Y/N) lifted her pack onto her back. 

“Ready?” Korra asked, and she, Bolin, and Mako nodded. Their group said their goodbyes to Tonraq and Asami before Korra led them into the woods. 

“The last time I was here, I was frozen into a block of ice by an ex-girlfriend,” Bolin said. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him. “It wasn’t you! It was Korra’s cousin from the Northern Water Tribe.” 

“The one with the evil dad?” (Y/N) asked. 

“That’s the one!” Bolin nodded. 

“This is it,” Korra said as they stopped in front of the Spirit World Portal. (Y/N) could feel its energy radiating from outside the forest, but now it was even more prominent. “Next stop, Spirit World.” She turned around to look at (Y/N), whose face looked as if she had seen a ghost. “Everything alright?” 

(Y/N) nodded, gulping. “I’m okay,” She nodded again, trying to convince herself that she was speaking the truth. What if getting her memories back wasn’t necessarily a good thing? Something had blocked them out. Perhaps they had done it for her own benefit. But they had come this far, so she remained silent as she stepped through the threshold and into the Spirit World. 

It was an odd feeling, transitioning between two planes. It felt like each particle of (Y/N’s) body was buzzing, until suddenly she was on the other side and staring at so many colors, some that she was sure she had never seen before. She released the breath she had been holding as she stepped through. 

Indescribable beings flew overhead, cawing and cooing at them. Korra had been right: the Spirit World was significantly warmer than the South Pole. The group removed their jackets as (Y/N) took in her surroundings. Currently, they stood in the middle of a rocky wasteland, but patches of flowers and grass popped up here and there. In the middle stood a gnarled tree with a hollowed out middle. 

“That’s the Tree of Time,” Korra explained. “That’s where the first Avatar had imprisoned Vaatu, the dark spirit that I defeated a month ago. His energy made this part of the Spirit World a wasteland, but it’s healing.” 

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed, and Korra smiled. Their group walked across the barren land to the greener parts of the Spirit World. Butterfly-like animals flittered around them as they walked and Korra explained her many trips to this place. Mako and Bolin had been here as well, although they had never been further than the Tree of Time. That helped (Y/N) feel less out of place. 

“So, where do we find this Iroh guy?” Mako asked. 

“You think he has any relation to General Iroh?” Bolin questioned. “I mean, how many Iroh’s can there really be, y’know?” 

“He’s Iroh as in, Zuko and Iroh,” Korra informed them, and Bolin let out a shocked gasp. While she was nervous about getting her memories back, (Y/N) would definitely be grateful not to be absolutely lost when things were discussed. 

“There it is!” Korra exclaimed, and then she started running. The others dashed behind her, not quite sure of where she was going, until a small house appeared seemingly out of nowhere and they were right in front of it. A small tea party of spirits and one human sat at a table in the garden. 

“Korra!” The old man exclaimed. “Welcome back! We were just about to start afternoon tea.” He peaked behind her at her friends. “And you brought company! The more the better, I think I have some extra teacups in the house.” 

“Hi, Iroh,” Korra said. “We really appreciate it, but we don’t really have time--” But the old man was already headed inside his house. When he returned, he held four additional teacups and a bright smile on his face. 

“Sit, sit,” He insisted. Korra looked to (Y/N), who shrugged, and dropped her backpack to the ground and took a seat. If having tea was what she needed to do in order to get her memories back, then she would do it. “You!” Iroh said as he placed (Y/N’s) teacup in front of her. “I’ve heard many things about you. Welcome back.” 

“Back?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at her friends. “I’ve been here before?” 

“You are (Y/N), yes?” She nodded. “When Korra first visited me to ask about you, I did not know much.” He placed a hand to the side of his mouth. “Spirits are horrible gossips sometimes, and I did not want to lead the Avatar on a path different from the one you must take. But I have asked many a visitor about you and they have all said the same thing: you were here, not too long ago, but you were here for a while.” 

“Why was she here?” Mako questioned before (Y/N) could. Iroh sighed as he poured their tea. 

“Whatever the reason, it was not good. Many of my friends say they saw her enter the dark part of our realm and she did not leave for a long time.” 

“It’s true!” One of the spirits interjected, an oddly blue wolf. “I saw you months ago with my own four eyes. You looked nothing like you do now. You came through the portals, yeah? Last time, someone brought you here the other way.” 

“You mean through meditation?” Korra asked. The spirit nodded. 

“Whatever it was, something powerful had to do it. I couldn’t do nothing like that.” 

“So, powerful spirit in the dark parts of the Spirit World. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t sound like something a good spirit would do.” (Y/N) looked to Iroh to confirm her suspicions. 

“Spirits are neither good nor bad, unless we are discussing Vaatu and Raava. But there are some spirits whose motives become skewed.” 

(Y/N) deflated in her seat. The spirit who had taken her memories was powerful and most likely dangerous. And if they found it, she would be leading her friends right to them. 

They finished their tea with Iroh before continuing on their journey. Bolin had talked excitedly with him about his adventures with Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko, whoever those people were, and Iroh gave him a Jasmine Dragon teacup to take back to the mortal realm. The entire time that they talked, (Y/N) was incredibly distracted by what Iroh had told them. 

“We should go back,” (Y/N) said suddenly. All three of her friends stopped and looked at her as if she were insane. 

“But, you need to get your memories back,” Bolin said. 

“I’ll just start over,” She insisted. “I can start fresh. Whatever this spirit is, it isn’t good, and I don’t want to hand you guys to it on a silver platter. We’ll go back and I’ll just learn to live without my memories.” 

“There are pieces of you you’ll never get back. Important memories that might have meant a lot to you. You deserve answers, (Y/N), for everything that’s happened to you.” Bolin grabbed her hands and she felt that same shock of electricity run through her body every time he touched her. 

“It’s not worth it if it means you guys will get hurt.” 

“Stop trying to play hero,” Mako said suddenly, his voice much harsher than it had been the night before. “If we didn’t want to be here to help you, we wouldn’t be.” 

“You shouldn’t be helping me. You guys fight every day for the greater good, for the people of the world. I’m one person. You can’t get yourselves hurt over one person. This,” She gestured to the entirety of the Spirit World, but referred to their mission. “Isn’t as important than whatever is going on back in the mortal world.” 

“But you’re important,” Korra said suddenly. “You’re important to Bolin and Mako and you’ve become important to Asami and I. The Avatar fights for the greater good, but as your friend, I’ll do whatever it takes so that you can feel like yourself again.” 

(Y/N) felt her eyes watering. Why weren’t they getting it? “If anything happened to you guys while we’re here, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” 

“And if we gave up on you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself,” Bolin said. She looked up at him through watery eyes. “No matter what we’ve been through, we care about you. I care about you. And we’re going to get that dumb spirit to give your memories back.” 

(Y/N) looked from him to Korra to Mako, whose head immediately turned as soon as her eyes landed on him. “Okay,” she said. “But I think this is a horrible idea.” 

“I find that horrible ideas make the best stories,” Bolin said with a smile.

---

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[sunsetcurvecuddles]

“Let me bandage you up,” Tía or Ray and Reggie, just to be different. 😁

hi i loved this so much omg. huge thanks to Ángela @angela-feelstoomuch for the spanish help as well, any remaining mistakes are totally my own fault haha. warning for some swearing and mentions of bl00d/minor injury.

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Honestly, being an honorary Molina is pretty great most of the time. Reggie loves having a little brother, would have done anything to convince his parents to have another kid when he was younger (and alive), though he knew they never would, since one kid was already such a pain in the ass. So Carlos is amazing.

And obviously Julie is his favourite girl ever, and his favourite still-alive person in the world, and she sings like an angel and thinks his country songs are cool and he would do anything for her and et cetera. It’s nice to see Luke and Alex settle in, get more relaxed - Luke doesn’t shy away from Julie every time Ray enters a room, and Alex doesn’t make excuses to miss dinner so that he doesn’t have to say grace, because he’s realised Ray doesn’t make him say grace.

“Niños!” Ray is calling from the kitchen, oven mitts on his hands, grin on his face, “Help setting the table?”

Even from here, dinner smells amazing. “Coming!” Reggie calls, manages not to say ‘dad’ at the end but it’s close, as he and Carlos bounce up off the couch and run to the kitchen.

Ray is the best. Reggie’s own dad was - look, it’s not that he was awful, it’s not that Reggie hates him, it’s just - he saw these dads, in movies, and on TV, and in other peoples homes, and he wanted one even more than he wanted a puppy, or a little brother, and Ray is that dad. He’s understanding, and encouraging, and funny, and a great cook, and he never raises his voice even when he should be mad about something. Reggie feels so lucky that Julie and Carlos let Reggie share their dad, even unofficially.

“Carlos!” Tía snaps, as he runs past her and ducks under her elbow, narrowly avoiding the tray in her hands, “Cuidado! La bandeja está caliente!”

It’s Tía Victoria who kinda scares Reggie.

It’s not that she’s not nice. Tía is nice. She brings over food and drives Carlos to ball games and pesters Ray about dentists’ appointments he almost forgets to go to. It’s just that she’s a little more like the other adults Reggie knew. She barks her words, sometimes, and she doesn’t get Julie’s music thing quite like Ray does, even if she’s supportive for the most part. And she doesn’t always believe Carlos about things, which Reggie understands more now that he’s been conned by Carlos about several random things (for example, Eggos are not in the house-sized waffle business in 2020 as Carlos told him, and they did not manage to breed dragons into existence with new DNA cloning technology) but still. It makes him nervous.

“Sorry, Tía!” Carlos chirps as he slides on his socks into a crouched position in front of the cupboard where they keep all the plates and bowls. Since Carlos has them handled, Reggie goes for glasses instead, reaching overhead for the cupboard on the opposite side of the room.

“Carlos!” sighs Tía again, more irritated than before, and Reggie feels his shoulders tense even though he wills them not to. “Let me help carry some of those, you’ll drop them, sobrino.”

“Fine,” Carlos huffs, and there’s the clink of plates as he passes half his pile off to her and they head for the dining table.

Reggie counts in his head as he stacks the glasses in the crook of his arm. There’s him and the boys, so four - wait, no, three - plus Julie, so four - then Ray and Carlos and Tía so five six seven -

He’s too caught up counting, is the problem, and doesn’t focus enough on how he has the glasses balanced. It probably would have been fine, except there’s a loud thud! Which Reggie registers a moment too late as being Luke, jumping from the top of the stairs to the bottom, enjoying his alive body. The sound scares Reggie about a foot in the air, and he fumbles the stack of glasses, and almost manages to save it.

The glass from the very top of the pile smashes on the floor, a harsh shatter that makes every head in the room turn in his direction. Reggie feels the panic surge up in him like a forgotten pot on the stove suddenly bubbling over. With trembling hands, he puts the rest of the glasses on the counter and scrambles down to the floor, tries to gather the glass shards together into a pile from where they’ve scattered, desperate to tidy the mess, to give some sense of responsibility, instead of just standing there like a stupid kid. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and his voice shakes more than he’d like, almost more than his hands had, “I’m sorry, I can clean it-”

“Reggie!” interrupts Tía, and her voice seems sharper than the glass.

“Victoria-” Ray begins, but Tía doesn’t let him finish, either. She’s already practically at Reggie’s side, crouching down next to him on the floor.

Her closeness makes Reggie’s hairs stand on end, and he’s not sure what he expects, but it’s not for her to gently lay her fingertips on his wrist and say, in a much softer tone, “Mijo, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh.” Reggie blinks. Looks at his arm, next to where her perfectly manicured nails have landed. She’s right, he sees. There’s a few little gashes, nothing huge, trickling blood in tiny streams down his forearm. In a few more moments, the blood would have reached his hand, and he would have noticed, probably. Except when he turns his palms up to look at them, he realises they’re cut up, too. Probably from grabbing glass shards with no protection.

His lip wobbles before he can stop it. He can still feel everyone looking at him. Knows what they must be thinking.

Stupid fucking kid.

“What are you staring at?” Tía says, back to business as usual. He flinches at her voice, before he realises she’s not talking to him. She’s talking to the others. “Come on! Ray, grab the dustpan and some shoes, clean up this glass before anyone else gets hurt. Carlos, finish setting the table, and Luke, go fetch the others para la comida.” In his peripheral vision, Reggie sees everyone bounce back into action, like her words broke a spell on them, and it’s a relief to know they’re not all looking at him any more. Tía continues, as she tucks an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, “Reggie and I will be back.”

“We will?” Reggie asks automatically, as she helps him balance on his wobbly, baby-giraffe legs.

“En un minuto,” she tells him confidently. “But first, let me bandage you up.”

He’s not exactly going to argue with her. Honestly, any excuse to get out of the public space is appreciated when his eyes still feel so close to swimming with tears. Firm yet warm, she leads him to the bathroom and has him sit on the closed toilet lid while she pulls Ray’s first aid kid from the cabinet, pulling from it some disinfectant, bandages and a pair of tweezers.

“Just in case any glass is left,” she explains briskly, settling on the edge of the bathtub and turning his arm over, palm up, so she can see the scratches. She tuts softly. “Your poor hands!”

Reggie ducks his head, whispers, “I really am sorry.”

“¿Por qué?” she asks. “It was an accident, right?”

“Huh?”

She sits back again and looks him in the eyes for a moment. If it was Ray, or one of the boys, Reggie would shy away from the look, but she has the same skill Julie has, to pin you in place with her gaze, so Reggie assumes it’s from Rose’s side of the family. “I know you didn’t throw that glass on the ground on purpose. It was just an accident. These things happen.”

“You’re not angry?” The question slips out before Reggie can think about how silly it sounds, but instead of rolling her eyes, or her jaw clenching in annoyance, Tía’s expression softens somehow.

“No, mijo. Not at all. Estaba un poco preocupada, maybe, but that’s only because I care about you.”

Reggie doesn’t know what to say to that. Bites his lip as she gently applies disinfectant along the wounds, once she’s declared them sufficiently glass-free, and wills himself not to cry as she wraps the bandages around his arm and a little around the palm of his hand. At least if he cries she’ll just think it’s because of the sting, and not because he braced himself so hard to be yelled at and called names and then it never came.

Not because he keeps remembering that he feels like glass himself. Always a moment away from falling onto the ground and shattering, so teeter-y that the kindness of adults he barely knows can almost knock him over the edge.

“Terminado!” she declares, tying off the last of the bandage, and gives him a big smile. It looks genuine enough. Not like she’s bottling anything up to let out at him later. Not like she’s fronting, or lying, not that Reggie’s ever been particularly good at telling the difference with anyone. She must see the puzzlement in his face, because she adds, “Just an accident.”

It really seems that simple. Like everything’s just fixed and okay. Like she doesn’t think Reggie is stupid. The feeling is sort of overwhelming; Reggie’s stomach feels all warm, and - empty, actually. It grumbles loudly in that moment, and Tía laughs, and Reggie laughs with her.

“Vamos a como?” he tries, because he’s been listening, and trying to pick things up.

“Vamos a comer,” she corrects him, but he can’t mistake her tone this time for anything other than delighted, her expression for anything other than fond and relieved as she helps him up. They go back down the stairs, her loosely holding his hand the whole way, not enough to hurt his wounds, but enough to remind him she’s there.

She presents him to the table with a goofy little ta-da! gesture, much to the joy of those already at the table. “Our Reggie, back in one piece!” she says. Laughter and relief radiates from all the others, and Tía grins, pleased, puts her hands on her waist. In that moment, despite all his preconceptions, she reminds him more of Julie than anyone else.

Maybe she isn’t so scary after all.

[asscandles]

Hey thanks for clarifying before now can I have some friendship(maybe secret crush)headcanons for Fuyuhiko, Peko, and Toko with a friend(reader) thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, they are just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid they are. So basically a giant cuddly dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like they(reader)just run up to them saying they want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but they look so happy. gender neutral.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ! ʙᴜᴛ, ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ, ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ!

ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛ 3:26 ᴀᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴋᴀʟꜰꜰᴅᴊᴋꜰᴀʟ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

Peko Pekoyama

“I--What are you doing?”

You stand on the counter, arms extended straight out at your sides. You continue staring ahead with an expressionless face. “I see no god up here… other than me!”

Peko sighs, and you immediately look down at her with round eyes. “Oh, but you’ll always be my queen, Peko! I want you by my side forever!”

Since Peko is always wielding/cleaning her sword, you carry around pastel-colored bandaids and a small first-aid kit in your backpack.

You’re usually by her side, so your absence is always noticed quickly, if not immediately.

You once fell asleep somewhere you shouldn’t have, leaving Peko to ravage the island, searching every nook and cranny until she finally found you curled up in a corner of the airport. All she could do was sigh and crack a tiny, relieved smile. She transfers her sword to her hands before easing you onto her back. Her heart swells when you mumble something and wrap your arms around her neck. All the way back to your cottage, she chides you quietly.

“It’s not safe to be so vulnerable out here. If you’re going to fall asleep out here, do it while I’m with you. Then, you can sleep as soundly as you want.”

M A T C H I N G  B R A C E L E T S

You excitedly gave Peko a card to celebrate the anniversary of your friendship. Peko snorted upon seeing that all of the drawings inside were either stick figures or poorly colored. But you just looked so happy… she couldn’t even bring herself to tease you about it.

You both refuse to speak of this, but one night, Peko woke up to the flickering of a faint light and feverish whispering. She had switched into attack mode in a fraction of a second, only to stop dead in her tracks. You had been standing in the middle of the room, doing the renegade by the light of your phone. You froze upon her reaction. Both of you sat there, staring at each other for a solid twelve seconds. You then proceeded to finish the dance, looking her dead in the eye. Peko may have be tired, but she’d be damned if she let you do it alone. So, she does it while standing on her bed, but clearly lacking energy and motivation.

Ambushing Peko with affection is not uncommon for you. It happens rather often, you clinging to her waist and pleading with her, “Hey, tell me that story again! You know, the one where Fuyuhiko was being held captive and you swooped in with your sword and saved the day!”

When you found out that Peko loved fluffy things, you were ecstatic. You bundled her into your cottage immediately, showing off a small collection of stuffed animals that you had managed to cram into your backpack before your arrival at the island.

Peko selects a white cat plushie as her favorite. From that point on, it is your child. No arguments.

You tend to get lost, so Peko sarcastically suggested tying a balloon to your wrist so that you would be easier to find. But, you totally caught her off guard when your eyes began to sparkle and you shouted, “Can I pick the color?” When she doesn’t answer immediately, you grab her hands and hold them close to your own chest endearingly. “Pretty please? With marshmallows and cookie crumble and whipped cream and sprinkles on top?” Peko obliges. When the balloon is finally secured around your wrist, you are absolutely fascinated by it.

You often fawn over Peko’s skills; but when you do, you use interjections and sound effects because you aren’t able to convey your excitement with just words.

Okay, but she’s actually worried about you lmao

“You have… a lot of mosquito bites. What happened?”

“What? They’re not bites! They were giving me kisses, silly!”

You’ve tried multiple times to surprise her with tickle attacks, but they never work. The only time it went according to plan, you managed to get your hands on her for exactly 0.7 seconds before she turned the tables on you.

Platonic dates? Platonic dates.

You’ve 100% made her flower crowns whose petals match the color of her eyes. 

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

“So… I saw some sour candy in the supermarket. If you lend me the money, I’ll give you half of the rocks I found.” :)

“Considering the fact that you get an adrenaline rush from successfully flipping a pancake, a single piece would kill you immediately.”

Everyone who discovers you two are friends is immediately suspicious. When I say suspicious, I mean, “(Reader), whatever blackmail he’s holding over your head, you don’t have to be scared. We can take care of this together.”

But after witnessing a few of your interactions, they learn of one irrefutable fact.

The embodiment of rage and vulgarity bottled up in human skin does indeed have a weakness.

And that weakness is you.

It didn’t take long for Fuyuhiko to become aware of your appreciation for stickers and your tender heart. That being said, when you’re upset, he won’t object too severely when you request to smooth stickers all over him. He would prefer to keep this interaction private, but if someone does happen to catch him with giraffe stickers on his cheeks and rainbows on his jacket, then he’s going to wear them proudly, goddamnit.

And if anyone has anything rude to say about it, then I hope they can speak sign language, because all they’ll be seeing is hands.

You’re aware of his insecurities, and you can understand why he feels the way that he does. But that’s where you come in. You always seem to approach him at the right moments. 

By now, you’ve figured out that he doesn’t always need words to reassure him. It’s enough if you’re just there, ready with open arms and a glass of water. Fuyuhiko doesn’t cry often. But when he does, he ends up dehydrated more often than not.

Let’s be honest. After Fuyuhiko lost his eye, his depth perception was most likely shit. You were always at his side, one hand on his arm as you gently guided him from room to room. You watched over him.

Accidentally knocking over a drink? You were ready to wipe it up. Searching for something he lost? You were there, helping him look. Tripping or bumping into things? You were there with a first aid kit to patch him up.

You try to match his level of sass, but you’re highkey too nervous to swear and you usually stutter the last word of whatever witty comeback you manage to come up with. Fuyuhiko secretly thinks it’s adorable, and he doesn’t want you to lose that part of yourself. That’s why he always defends you when it comes to verbal beatdowns.

You once drew a face on an egg, and when Fuyuhiko questioned you about it, the only thing you could offer was a deadpan “our son.”

“What the hell--that’s an egg.”

“No! His name is Linguini and he’s our child!”

Fuyuhiko is exhausted bro.

You’ve approached him countless times, eyes glowing with awe and insisting that you need to show him something really cool. It’s usually just a rock or a piece of glass, though. He always has the urge to poke fun at you for it, but it fizzles away when he sees how utterly bewitched you are with your find.

One time, he had walked into the room to see you standing on the arms of an office swivel chair, knees bent and arms extended as you fought to maintain your balance. You seemed to be fairly steady.

Still, that didn’t prevent him from nearly falling into cardiac arrest on the spot.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

It had startled you, and the chair rolled out from underneath you. Fuyuhiko rushed to catch you. You both tumbled to the floor in a knot of limbs, lying there in varying degrees of pain. You were laughing. Fuyuhiko was absolutely most fucking not.

“Thanks for breaking my fall!” You had chirped, gesturing to the arm lodged under the small of your back to protect it.

“You little--” Fuyuhiko’s voice had been strained, but his tight-lipped grimace dissolved into a sigh at the sight of your smile. He disentangled himself from you and pressed the pad of his index finger into your forehead. Your lips formed a small “o” shape, your eyes crossing to try to keep track of his finger. “You need to be more careful from now on. I won’t always be here to catch you.”

“But, you’ll still patch me up afterward, right?” You poked his forehead back.

He huffed and pulled away from you. “To the best of my ability. But don’t push it.”

Toko Fukawa

Initially, the only reason that Toko set aside her natural distrust and suspicion of people in order to befriend you was because she thought that you were simply too innocent and simple-minded to ever think badly of a friend.

She thought that having such a sweetheart glued to her side would disperse her dubious reputation and make her seem less suspicious during class trials.

Yep… That’s the only reason she keeps you around...

Not because of the way her heart feels all fuzzy when you embrace her… Or because of how your eyes sparkle whenever she offers to let you read one of her new works… Or because of how relaxed she feels when you weave her hair into intricate braids…

Not at all…

Hahahashutuphahaha…

She often scolds you for being such a pushover when people disrespect you, but she means well. You insist that it doesn’t bother you, but she’s an expert on human emotion. She is a writer, after all. She knows that it haunts your thoughts for a while afterward, and she hates seeing you like that.

You’ve noticed that Toko bites her nails when she’s stressed, so you’ve decided to combat her habit by applying nail polish to her nails. That way, you figure, the taste of the nail polish will deter her from tearing at them with her teeth. She also has the option of picking off the nail polish, which is probably less harmful than chewing on them.

You also kinda sorta... believe that video game cheat codes work in real life, so you’re often moving around and jumping, shouting the combinations as you go.

“Right! Right! Left! Up! Left! Down! Right! X! Y! Now, confess your sins!” You command during a class trial, pointing vaguely toward the accused. Toko just quietly shushes you, dark circles rimming her eyes as she pats your head.

You’ve adopted the habit of narrating the things you do, like whispering “wiggle, wiggle, wiggle” when sliding your feet into your shoes and “shimmy, shimmy, shimmy” when slipping your charm bracelet past your hand onto your wrist. Coincidentally, Toko has also subconsciously started doing the same thing, and she cannot think of anything more irritating.

She once jokingly told you to stop being so dependent on her. You promptly flushed scarlet and snatched the box she had been carrying out of her hands, insisting that you were more than capable of taking it to storage yourself. You had marched indignantly out of the room and headed left, only for Toko to call out, “Uh, storage is the other way.”

You reappeared a moment later, now stomping in the opposite direction. “I knew that!” You huffed.

You’re aware of Genocide Jack, but you aren’t afraid. You whole-heartedly trust that your friendship is enough to outmatch Genocide Jack’s bloodlust, as naive as it may be. Your only response to Toko’s confession of having a split personality is to gift her a cherry-flavored lip balm with a bright smile. At first, Toko is confused. You explain that whenever Genocide Jack makes an appearance, their tongue is always lolling out of their mouth. You’re concerned that their lips will get dried out, and you want to do your best to prevent it.

Did Toko’s heart just burst? Maybe.

Toko shares her romance novels with you, but only the ones without sexual interactions. She believes that you’re far too pure for those. Plus, she would really not rather answer your questions about anything of that nature.

Toko is determined to preserve your purity. She’s very protective whenever someone shows the slightest bit of sexual or romantic interest in you, and has even referred to you as her baby before.

Whenever Toko gets insecure or anxious and covers her face with her hands, you gently remove them from her face with a soft giggle of “Peekaboo!” Toko doesn’t fight you as you carefully pull her into your arms and rest her head against your chest. In fact, she finds herself surprisingly close to tears when you inquire, “Hey, you want to hear a lullaby? I can’t remember who sang it to me first, but it always helps me calm down. So, I want to share it with you!”

There will be times when Toko is too busy writing stories to pay you any attention. But no matter! After a moment of consideration, you have an idea. You gather blankets and pillows and settle onto the floor beside Toko’s seat. Your arms loop themselves around her leg, and your head finds its way onto her thigh. It isn’t long before you doze off, Toko watching you in silent shock, face rosy with bashfulness and eyes wide.

Toko is very adamant about covering up her legs due to both the tally marks scored across her skin and the quote-on-quote “sturdiness” of her thighs. You, however, have an entirely different outlook. You reason, “the bigger your thighs, the more snacks you can hide under them!” 

[icollectyoursins]

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling. 

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him. 

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks). 

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

    You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

     Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork. 

     “Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

     “Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

     “Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

     “Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

     “I tried-”

     “And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

     Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.” 

     What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool. 

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

     A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

     He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

     He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

     “Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

     You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you. 

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research. 

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands. 

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk. 

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

     You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

     “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

     You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

     “Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling. 

     Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

     “Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this. 

     “Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you. 

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down. 

[penaltbox]

say my name - ty emberson

ever forgotten someone’s name as soon as you met them? me too! that’s exactly where this concept came from! if you like it let me know!! feedback and reblogs are always so super appreciated!

(note: // indicates character pov breaks)

word count: ~3.4k

__

You’d never had quite so stealthy of a walk of shame as this one. You snag your shirt off his desk chair and slip it on, holding your breath as he rolls over in his bed. You wait an extra second before moving again, still searching for one of your shoes as you grab your purse. 

You gently open his bedroom door and peek out, not seeing or hearing anyone. You do see your shoe just outside of his room though and grab it quickly, slipping it on and closing the door behind you. You let out a sigh and sneak the rest of the way out of the apartment, right past a stack of hockey sticks leaning next to the door. 

You shake your head and laugh at yourself a little. If only you could remember his name. 

//

Ty wakes up suddenly, lifting his head off his pillow and frowning. He hears another crash in the kitchen and rolls onto his back, trying to get his bearings. He rubs a hand over his face and turns to his left, sitting up as soon as he does. 

“What?” He asks himself, patting the cold bed sheets like they’d give him an answer. 

He looks around his room and finds no sign of you. He knows he wasn’t that drunk the night before and he wasn’t having a dream about it all. In fact, he’d only been on beer number two when he met you and he’s pretty sure he stopped after that. 

You’d caught his eye multiple times that night, and when he finally approached you, your smile made his heart stutter right away. He was planning to take you to breakfast when you both woke up but instead he was left with an empty room and way more questions than he had answers to. 

—

“I’m sorry, you completely forgot his name after you slept with him?” Your friend Jackie bellows, getting the attention of basically every single person inside the diner where you had been happily enjoying your breakfast omelette. 

“Could you not announce my night time escapades to the entire city, please and thank you?” You whisper harshly at her, glancing at your roommate, Kate, for backup. 

Kate winces in response to your look, “that’s kind of really bad. What are you going to do if you see him again? You can’t exactly say ‘hey, forgot your name by the way!’.”

You groan and lean back in your chair, “I know! I feel awful because he was really sweet and honestly, I’d do it again. He was worth his weight in gold in the bedroom surprisingly.”

Your friends both turn on you then, making you spill every detail you remembered from the night. Some of the details you skimmed, not wanting to share every single bit of it, but they were hooked on the things you did share. 

“So he was that good and you still forgot his name? You are one of a kind,” Jackie laughs, turning back to her own breakfast. 

“I know,” you blush, scooping up some hash browns, “I’m sure I can avoid him though. How hard can that be?”

—

Unfortunately it was harder than you’d initially thought. You assumed the city was big enough to avoid him but you were oh so wrong about that. 

It’s not even a week later that you run into him again and you were so unprepared for it. You keep your head down, buried in a book in the corner of the coffee shop, praying he doesn’t recognize you for some reason. You put your hand up to cover your face, leaning into it and angling your body away from the door he’d just walked in. 

You’d heard him before you saw him and your brain instantly clicked to the night you met him. You were a little surprised at how easily you recognized his voice but between him and the two friends with him, they were a hard group to miss. 

The noise seems to grow louder as they move closer and closer to you. Your palms start to sweat as your heart hammers away. Please don’t notice, please don’t notice, you chant in your thoughts. You were so unprepared for what to say if he did happen to notice you for some reason. 

“And I’m telling you, dude, she just disappeared the next morning!” You hear him say, quickly catching your attention. 

You glance up as much as you can without turning your face towards him, realizing that eavesdropping was probably not your best idea. 

His friend laughs, shoving his shoulder, “quit lying. You didn’t even bring anyone back that night I bet.”

“Whatever, I know what happened. You’re just mad you can’t pull like me,” he jokes, shoving his friend’s shoulder back

You let yourself look up, quickly taking in his appearance and remembering just how cute he really was. He’s shaved from the last time you saw him but the suit he’s wearing throws you off a bit. He certainly wasn’t wearing one when you met him, and you’re not sure why he is, but you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good in it. 

Before you can get caught watching him, you turn your attention back to your textbook. It takes you a minute to find your section again but just as you do you hear him speak up one more time. 

“I’ll run into her again and this time I’ll make sure I get her number.”

Your head snaps up just in time to see them walking out the door with their coffees in hand, leaving you confused but slightly excited. He meant you, didn’t he? Now you were twice as concerned about running into him again since you still couldn’t remember what in the world his name was. 

//

“So did you like her or something then?” Brock asks, grinning and getting ready to tease his teammate. 

Ty notices and shakes his head with a laugh, “she was cool, yeah. Super cute. I just figured I’d give it a try and see if she wanted to stick around a little the next morning but she took that chance away from me.”

“And if you see her again and she still runs?” Tyler asks, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Then I guess I need to find out a better game plan. I wonder why she even left.”

“I’d run if I saw your face, too,” Tyler smirks, dodging the smack Ty tries to lay on him. 

Brock does nothing to help the joke as he laughs hysterically on Ty’s other side. The captain’s ears heat up a little with embarrassment and he walks a little faster towards the Kohl Center. 

—

“I ran into him!” You yell as soon as you open the door to your apartment. 

Kate and Jackie give you surprised looks from their spot at the dining table, books and notes scattered all around them. They take a second to process your words before reacting wildly. 

“You did? Where?”

“Did you say hi?”

“Did you remember his name yet?”

“Is he as cute as you remember?”

“Did he remember you?”

Your face must give away the shock of being bombarded with questions because your friends lay off, waiting very impatiently for you to explain the situation. 

“Well, no. I kind of hid in the corner of the coffee shop so he wouldn’t see me because I still can’t remember his name for the life of me,” you whine, sitting down in one of the empty chairs with a frown, “and he’s still so cute. He had a suit on though which was a little weird.”

“Maybe he’s in the business school!” Kate chirps in, a big smile on her face. She was always the optimistic one of your trio. 

“Or,” Jackie speaks up, “he’s in a frat. In which case, run fast. Unless he’s a SigEp because then go for it and get us the better invite for Lily’s Classic.”

That makes you laugh, finally diffusing some of the stress you’d been holding on tight to. You were pretty sure he wasn’t in a fraternity but you couldn’t be sure. You shake your head, thinking over the whole encounter one more time. 

“Oh! I heard him talking though with his friends and I think he was talking about me. He said how this girl just disappeared the next morning and next time he saw her he was going to get her number.”

Kate and Jackie both give you surprised looks, their jaws dropping simultaneously. They squeal and confirm that it must be you he was talking about, begging you to remember his name by throwing different ones out. 

“Is he a Tyler?” Kate spits out and your brain slows down for a second. 

You frown and think on that one, humming a little, “that sounds close but it’s not quite it. Maybe it was a T name though.”

“Ugh,” Jackie groans, laying her head on her arms she folded on top of the table, “I can’t believe you slept with some hot guy who wears suits for fun and you can’t even remember his name!”

“You’re telling me! I’d love to remember so I could talk to him again. Well, maybe talk to him. Or maybe I’d get too nervous again,” you blush, remembering how you’d eyed him up most of that first night you saw him out at the bar. 

The lightbulb seems to go off over all of your heads at once and you exchange excited glances. 

“The bar!” You and Kate say at the same time, followed quickly by a little scream from Jackie. You can’t believe it took you so long to figure it out but you knew exactly what your weekend plans would consist of now. 

//

“Are we going out again this weekend?” Brock asks, lacing his skates up. 

He looks over at Ty to try and get some sort of confirmation from him. Instead he gets a little shrug, which isn’t like Ty. He was usually one of the first to agree to going out and meeting people. He was almost always social. 

“What do you mean ‘are we’? Of course we are!” Roman butts in, dropping into the stall next to Ty, “we need to find our heartbroken little Romeo his girl.”

“Juliet didn’t run away from Romeo, dude. That’s not how the story goes at all,” Ty pipes in finally, looking at Roman like he was an idiot. 

The Minnesotan scoffs, holding his hands up in defense, “that’s not the point here guys! The point is that we need to find that girl for you. You want to see her again, right?”

Ty can’t help the smile that crosses his face, “yeah I really do. I hope she remembers who I am.”

“Of course she will. No one forgets someone that ugly,” Roman laughs, slipping just outside of Ty’s attempted smack. 

—

The three of you set your plans for that following Saturday, giving you a whole week to get your life together and prepare to see him. Different scenarios play out in your head and you find yourself getting giddy about it. 

You’re not sure why you’re so excited. He could completely blow you off the second time around and act like he never knew you. He could have forgotten all about that night by now too. As excited as you were to possibly run into him again, you also leveled yourself out by thinking of ways it could all go wrong too. 

You make your way to the library, needing to use a printer quickly before your class, and deciding to grab a coffee from the little shop next door. You tap your foot impatiently, waiting for the paper to get printed. You glance around the room and suddenly you freeze. 

The cute boy you were actively looking for yet avoiding at the same time was walking through and he looked right at you. The corner of his lips turn up just as your paper spits out and you know you must look shocked. Without a second of hesitation you grab the paper and turn to leave the library as fast as your feet can take you. 

You swear you hear someone tell you to wait, but when you all but sprint down the sidewalk away from him, you manage to put some distance between you two. You glance back finally and realize you must have looked like an absolute fool running away from a boy. Why couldn’t you just act normal?

//

Ty looks left and right as soon as he steps outside of the library, confused about how you’d moved away from him so fast. He’s still looking around when Tarek catches up to him, eyeing up his fellow captain. 

“Dude, what the fuck is your deal? Did you see a ghost or something?” He asks, looking down the street where Ty was staring. 

Ty sees you turn around and survey the people directly around you, but you must not notice him anymore. You turn around and he can’t help but shake his head. He looks at Tarek finally and runs a hand through his hair. 

“She might as well be. I swear I’m never going to run into her and get to talk to her again,” he sighs, his shoulders dropping. 

—

“And no running away from him this time!” Jackie not so gently reminds you, shaking your shoulders as she tries to get you hyped up to go out to the bar. 

Kate puts a more gentle reminder in as she says, “you liked him enough the first time and meeting someone is always the hardest part anyways. I’m sure if you talk to him again it’ll be just fine!”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you nod, trying to shake the nerves off, “let’s just hope he didn’t see me make a mad dash away from him in the library.”

Your friends laugh but your cheeks still burn with embarrassment. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror and nod, confidently saying, “let’s go get him.”

You’re guilty of being the last one to walk into the bar, insisting that Jackie and Kate needed to go first so they could do a quick sweep of the place and see if he was there already. You carefully trail behind Kate, keeping your head ducked down. You had no clue, once again, why you felt the need to hide from this guy, but here you were. 

“I don’t see him,” Jackie shakes her head, pulling you out from your hiding spot, “let’s just grab a drink and find a spot.”

You agree, maneuvering your way to a drink and finding a less crowded area of the bar to stand and look around. You have an easy view of the door and you find yourself checking the area again and again. You start to think maybe it’s not your night to run into him though and turn to your friends. 

“We don’t have to stay here all night. There’s no reason to wait around forever if we don’t know that he’ll show up,” you say loudly, making sure they hear you over the music. 

“No way!” Jackie argues, “I bet he’ll show up! Just give it some time. Some people don’t come out as early as we did.”

You roll your eyes at her determination but you can’t the smile that takes over your face. You were lucky to have them as friends. Kate nudges you suddenly and you give her a confused look. 

“Isn’t that him?” She points towards the door, directing your attention to exactly who you’d avoided for two weeks. 

You gasp a little and nod, “yeah, that’s him. Oh god, what do I do now?”

“Go talk to him!” Jackie answers quickly. 

“No, wait!” Kate says, grabbing your drink, “go get a new one when he does and slide in by him.”

Jackie agrees, giving you a shove back towards the bar. You look at them both but take a deep breath. You weave through the crowd until you find the bar, spotting your target. You wait until he gets up to the front and sneak your way in next to him. He doesn’t notice you at first but the bartender stops at you instead of him, asking for your order. 

His head turns quickly when he hears your voice and you look over, his smile bright on his face, “it’s you! I didn’t think I’d see you again. Are you done running away from me?”

You blush and laugh a little, “I’m sorry about that. I had to get to class like right away or I would have been late.”

“Fair enough. Why don’t you let me buy this drink for you and we can catch up again?” He offers, his smile making your stomach flip just the way you remembered from the first time. 

“I think I’d like that,” you nod, taking your drink as the bartender slides it over. 

The boy hands his card over to the bartender, who holds a hand up as he says, “no worries, Ty. Captain gets his first round free.”

You frown, looking up at the boy. His name clicks into place immediately and you kick yourself for forgetting such an easy name. Your friends were going to tease you forever for that one. It’s the second part that has you confused. 

“Captain?” You ask before you can even stop yourself. 

Ty turns to you again, looking more bashful this time, “yeah I, uh, I’m the captain of the hockey team.”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal and you laugh to yourself. You remember seeing the hockey sticks as you’d left his apartment that morning but thought nothing of it. His suit last Friday made so much more sense as well and you can’t believe you never connected the dots. 

“Are you here with someone?” He asks, leaning close enough for you to smell his body wash. 

You bite your lip and nod, looking over your shoulder for a second, “my friends are back that way. They’re probably wondering where I ended up.”

“That way?” He points, waiting for you to confirm, “I’ll grab my boys and meet you over there. How does that sound?”

You smile and nod again, thanking him for the drink. You hurry back to Jackie and Kate who were waiting less than patiently for your return. 

//

“Dude, I found her!” Ty says loudly, getting Roman and Brock to look at him. They sit confused for a moment before the light bulb flips on for Brock. 

“Your girl is here! Are you serious?” Brock smiles, looking behind Ty but not finding anyone. 

Ty waves Brock’s inquiry off, pointing over his shoulder, “she’s over by her friends. I said I’d come grab mine and head to where they’re at so I need both of you on your best behavior. Got it?” 

“Yep!”

“No promises!”

Ty scowls at Roman but really he expected nothing else. Brock is always happy to help, but Roman liked to push Ty’s buttons and make a fool out of the three of them. Ty silently hopes one of the girls is loud and bold so that they’ll keep Roman in check. With a smirk Ty nods at the two and turns around, ready to see if he can convince you to not run away this time. 

//

“Ty,” is the first word out of your mouth before you continue, “he’s the captain of the hockey team apparently.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Jackie yells, her eyes going wide, “do you know how hot those boys are? How did we not notice he was one of them?”

“You forgot the name Ty of all things?” Kate asks, “it’s literally two letters long!”

“I want one of his friends. Dibs on whoever is taller,” Jackie says, punching Kate in the shoulder. 

Kate whines, rubbing the spot that just got hit, “ow, whatever. They’re hockey players. They can’t be that cute.”

You laugh and look over your shoulder, seeing Ty immediately. He has two boys with him, a perfect number, and he waves as he gets closer. You return the wave and glance back at your friends to find Kate with her jaw dropped. 

“I take back what I said. I want the one on the right,” she grabs your wrist, making sure you heard her. 

You laugh and look back at Ty, his smile mirroring yours. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be running away from him ever again. 

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Part 2

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: none

Words: 2.0k

Summary: to everyone she knew, [y/n] was a peasant, destined to be a servant just like her parents. To Zuko, however, she was his best friend. After losing his agni kai and being exiled, [y/n] was devastated. She thought she would never see him again. Three years later, she almost wished he never came back.

A/N: have a treat for getting through another week of 2021 :)

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3

Series | Masterlist

A couple weeks had passed since [y/n] saw Zuko. When her parents asked how their reunion went, she said it went well. What she didn’t say was that all her excitement plunged down the drain the moment Mai and Azula showed up.

Her mom quickly found out about Zuko and Mai’s relationship. It wasn’t surprising. All the girls in the city dreamed of dating Zuko. Such a rumor would spread like wildfire. When it was brought up, [y/n] pretended to be happy for them. She didn’t want her parents to know that she was heartbroken. She didn’t need them to know her secret.

As the days went on, [y/n] pushed her feelings away and did her best to move on. Once again, work kept her mind distracted. And soon things went back to normal...until a messenger hawk landed on the window sill.

“[Y/n]!” Her mom called from the kitchen, “you have a message from Zuko!”

[Y/n]’s heart began to race. Despite her sorrow, she still got excited to hear from him. It was a nostalgic, like when she was a child waiting for that invitation to have a playdate. She left her bedroom to retrieve the note from her mother.

Dear [y/n], I’m sorry I couldn’t take you up on your offer to spend the day together. I’ve had a lot going on now that I’m back. Today, my father told my sister and me to take a vacation. We’re going to Ember Island, and Mai and Ty Lee are coming too. You should join us! Please let me know if you can come. Your friend, Zuko

[Y/n] had mixed feelings about Zuko’s invitation. She could count on one hand how many times she went on a vacation. The thought of taking a break and getting away from the city seemed nice. Zuko would be there too. Although he didn’t like her back, they were still best friends. It could be fun. However, his sister and his girlfriend would be there as well. That could ruin the trip.

[Y/n] shook her head. She was overthinking it. Zuko dating Mai wasn't the end of the world, and he wanted her to be there, so she should go. It would make him happy, and she truly valued his happiness. Surely [y/n] was capable of repressing her crush and not letting Azula get to her. She would be fine.

That was probably an overstatement.

The trip was...okay. Zuko was glad that [y/n] accepted the invite. However, his sister wasn’t too thrilled (though that was to be expected). Also, as expected, Mai was practically attached to Zuko. [Y/n] watched them from afar at the beach. She had to admit that she was at least a little jealous...maybe a lot.

“Here, this is for you,” Zuko said to Mai, handing her a seashell. Mai glanced at it and gave Zuko a snooty look.

“Why would I want that?”

“I saw it, and I thought it was pretty. Don’t girls like stuff like this?”

Yes, of course, [y/n] thought. She would’ve been over the moon if Zuko gave her a seashell.

Mai scoffed. “Maybe stupid girls.”

[Y/n] frowned. Was she a stupid girl? She sure felt stupid for coming here.

“Hey, beach bums! We’re playing next!” Azula shouted to Zuko and Mai, pointing to the people playing kuai ball. “Ty Lee, get over here!”

[Y/n] and the others gathered around Azula.

“Uh-uh,” Azula put her hand out to stop [y/n]. “You’re not playing. Teams of four only, and, besides, you’ll hold us back.”

“Hey!” Zuko barked at his sister.

“It’s fine, Zuko," [y/n] said, putting her hands up to diffuse the situation. "I don’t know how to play, so she’s probably right...” She shrugged her shoulders.

“See? I’m right. Let’s go.” Azula said pompously. She turned on her heel and headed toward the kuai ball court. Everyone else followed.

Watching Zuko and the girls play from the sidelines was normal for [y/n]. As a child, Azula usually let everyone but [y/n] play games with her, then Zuko would get mad, and [y/n] would just deal with it. She didn't dare cause trouble with the princess. But she deeply appreciated Zuko for standing up for her.

As the team of four destroyed their opponents (almost literally), [y/n]'s mind wandered. If I was nobility, I bet I would be playing too...but would Zuko have chosen me instead? Or would he be with Mai anyway?

After spending most of the day at the beach, the group went to a house party. Initially, the party hosts, Chan and Ruon-Jian, invited only Mai and Ty Lee. But, Azula, cunning and determined as always, managed to persuade the hosts to include everyone…even [y/n] to her surprise.

[Y/n] had never been to a house party before. The place was loud and packed with strangers. It was overwhelming to say the least. If it weren't for Mai, [y/n] would've stuck to Zuko's side. But, alas, she watched the love birds sit together, his arm around her shoulder. They were probably having a good time just like everyone else in the room. No one was standing awkwardly alone like [y/n].

Although she could’ve tried to mingle and make friends, she was far too anxious. So [y/n] sought refuge at the snack table. Nibbling on food kept her looking busy, while she prayed to the spirits for the night to go by quickly.

And perhaps the spirits heard her cries for help. Out of the corner of her eye, [y/n] noticed Zuko heading in her direction. Such a simple thing instantly brought her joy.

“Hey!” [Y/n] grinned.

“Hey.” Zuko replied sternly. He barely looked at her. Strange.

“So, um, how are you enjoying the party?”

He sighed dramatically, as he picked out some food. “Oh, it’s great,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Something was wrong. Before [y/n] could open her mouth, Zuko turned and walked away. Then, someone bumped into him and all the food fell to the floor.

“Hey, watch it! That food was for my cranky girlfriend!” Zuko snapped. [Y/n] kneeled down to clean up the food (it must have been her housemaid instincts). When she stood up, she saw Zuko run over to Ruon-Jian, who was talking to Mai, and push him. The poor boy almost crashed into [y/n].

“Hey! What are you doing?” Asked a very stunned Ruon-Jian.

“Stop talking to my girlfriend!” Zuko demanded, pointing an accusatory finger to the host. His other hand was tightly balled into a fist. [Y/n] could practically see the smoke coming out of his hands.

“Relax, it’s just a party—”

Zuko forcefully shoved Ruon-Jian back into a tall vase, which shattered to pieces. Suddenly the room fell silent. People all around them stopped talking to stare.

Mai began yelling at Zuko, and Zuko yelled back. They fought and bickered until Mai finally said it, “it’s over, Zuko. We’re done.”

[Y/n] gawked at the commotion. It all happened so quickly and it seemed so out of the blue. As kids, there were times when Zuko had lost his temper, but this was different. She had never seen Zuko rage to the point of becoming physical before.

“Who broke my nana’s vase?!” Chan cried, running into the scene. Ruon-Jian simply pointed to Zuko. Chan turned to him and aggressively gestured to the door. “That’s it! You’re out of here!”

“I was just leaving,” Zuko growled. He stormed out the front door and slammed it.

I better talk to him, [y/n] thought. She quietly slipped through the crowd of partygoers and left the house. Zuko was angrily walking along the path away from the place, hands still in fists and shoulders tensely raised.

“Zuko!” She called to him. He ignored her.

“Zuko, wait!” [Y/n] jogged to catch up to him. Still, Zuko kept walking. “What happened?” She panted.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

"But--"

"You heard what I said!" He was still fuming and needed to cool down first.

“Okay, okay…" [Y/n] paused before quietly asking, "can I walk with you?”

Zuko hesitated for a moment before sighing heavily. “Yeah, sure.”

Together they walked down the path to the beach. Neither of them said a word. They just silently strolled along the shore side by side. Waves lapped at their feet, providing a nice, calming ambiance. Several minutes passed, then Zuko turned and started up another path. It led up a hill to a large beach house. The house appeared to be abandoned as the garden outside was severely overgrown.

“What is this? Where are we?” [Y/n] wondered.

“My family’s beach house,” Zuko responded in a much more collected tone.

The two walked up the front steps. Zuko tried to open the door, but it was locked. He stepped back and forcefully kicked it open. [Y/n] reluctantly followed him inside.

“We haven’t been here in a long time,” Zuko explained, “we used to come every summer...when we were actually happy.”

A long time indeed. It was obvious that the house had been vacant for many years. Floorboards creaked with every step, a layer of dust coated every surface, and cobwebs hung every corner. A peculiar, stale smell made [y/n]’s nose crinkle.

Zuko extended his hand out and generated a flame. With the dim light, he walked up the large set of stairs in the foyer. [Y/n] followed.

On second floor was a large painting: a family portrait from a different time. Firelord Ozai and his (former) wife, Lady Ursa sat next to each other in chairs. Beneath them sat two children: Zuko and Azula. They looked to be very young, around the age when [y/n] had met them. Everyone was smiling.

Zuko gazed nostalgically. So much had changed in his life since this portrait was painted. It was no wonder his family no longer came here. If one were to pinpoint when it all went downhill, it would be Ursa’s disappearance.

[Y/n] placed a hand on his shoulder. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“Every day,” Zuko mumbled.

“I'm so sorry, Zuko…” she whispered.

“Yeah…” Zuko paused before speaking again. “I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. And I'm sorry you saw me get so angry at Mai and those other guys.”

[Y/n] nodded, accepting his apology.

“When I was exiled, all I felt was bitter anger and frustration. I thought restoring my honor and coming home would be the only way I could be happy again. Well, I’m home now and I have my honor back, so I should be happy, right? But I’m not, and I don’t know why. Now, I’m just confused.”

“I’m sorry, Zuko” [y/n] said. “I don’t know what I can do to help you.”

“It's okay. I don’t even know how to help myself.”

[Y/n] thought for moment. She had to say something to make him feel better.

“It's not very helpful, but I can tell you this. Everything will be okay. Maybe not now or tomorrow, or even the day after...but if you give yourself time, you’ll figure it out, and then, everything will be okay.”

Zuko turned to [y/n]. He stared at her for just a moment before hugging her. [Y/n] wrapped her arms around him, returning the embrace.

“Thank you, [y/n]. Even after all these years, you’re still here for me."

“Of course...I care about you.” She did, in more ways than Zuko would know.

Zuko pulled away, but kept his hands on her shoulders. He was so close to [y/n], she could almost feel his warm breath tickle her nose. It made her cheeks flush. [Y/n] watched his amber eyes wander all over her face. Everything felt so still and quiet all of a sudden. Even [y/n]’s mind went blank. His lips parted slightly, and she could’ve sworn she saw Zuko lean in a little...

“There you are. I thought I’d find you here—”

Zuko immediately let go of [y/n] and whipped his head around. Behind him at the top of the stairs stood Azula. She cocked her head and crossed her arms.

“Did I interrupt something?” She asked articulately.

“No.” Zuko answered quickly.

“Alright then…come down to the beach. This place is depressing.”

While the three of them returned to the shore, [y/n]’s mind rambled relentlessly.

What was that? Did he just...? No, no, I must be crazy. It didn’t happen. It was nothing. It was dark, my mind must've been playing tricks on me. I was just imagining things. Yeah...imagining it all. He wouldn’t...kiss me…would he?

Taglist (open!): @aangsupremacy @kaylove12

[plumoh]

[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

[sammy-gvf]

We get along (for the most part)

Chapter One.

OC x Lee Bodecker

Warnings: None for now. Just some cursing.

Plot : The local rebel badass girl and Lee Bodecker have had run ins, lets see how it goes, shall we? 

MINORS DNI !!!!! Eventually this story will get 18+. I dont feel like getting in trouble because of you. Thanks a bunch. 

Evan Rachel Wood ( Across the Universe 2007) 

( personally in my head this is what she would look like but you can interpret her anyway you want!)

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My name is Margaret Lane, well Maggy. 22. Born May 2nd 1947.

The resident bad girl, don't worry, I gave myself that nickname.

I have lived in this tiny, middle of nowhere town my entire life. Same people, same gossip.  There's no escape. No matter how hard I try, something always stops me. I live with my parents and little brother here in Knockemstiff, Ohio. My parents and I have a mutual understanding of “you go to work and come home and then we don't talk”, which is fine with me. My little brother is the only one I can really rely on. He is 17 years old and he is really the only person in my family that I can really talk to. I mean, I have friends but they aren't living in the same house as me. Not yet at least, we are thinking about moving out all together.

High school is where I built my reputation, of course. Used to sneak around with Arvin Russell, which led me to meet Lee Bodecker. Sneaky ass sheriff used to follow my every move, making sure he took every opportunity to bust Arvin and I any chance he got. 

Had nothing better to do than to bust on teenagers who were sneaking out to their parents, what a loser. Along with gaining some parking tickets and speeding tickets along the way, we became acquaintances. Thinking about the future, I was dying to leave this town. Never got the chance to after high school, hopefully I will as soon as i'm done college. 

 I can say whole heartedly that I do NOT enjoy Lee's presence. That man memorized my license plate number. Stops me all the time, for no reason. 

Flashback 

It was a warm saturday evening, about 7pm. I had just got some college work done. Figured it was too nice to just sit inside, right?

 I get up out of my bed and put my school stuff in my bag, walking over to my closet to put on a pretty yellow flowy dress and grab my leather jacket, that'll go nice with the breeze coming in through my window.

I put my hair up in a bun and slip on some keds, something easy ya know? 

I turn off the light in my room and walk into the living room where I see my father asleep on the couch, I walk over to the counter and grab a little piece of paper and write “going out for a drive, be back soon” and put in on the table in front of my father so if he wakes up, he knows where I went. 

I actually have a lot of freedom compared to other girls my age, many girls my age are looking for husbands and/or their parents are trying to set them up with someone. My parents know who I am, I was so against having an actual boyfriend so I just slept around. Obviously, people at church got wind of it but I didn't really care, to me men are there at my disposal. I play the field for my own reasons. 

I grab my keys off the door in the foyer of my little house and head outfront. 

I head down the steps of my house and waltz towards my red little 1964 Ford Mustang. Worked for it all by myself. 

Getting in the car, I pop a cigarette in my mouth and light it up. Keeping the cigarettes in my car was my best bet, my father would kill me if he knew I smoked these things. Turning on the car, I throw in a Led Zeppelin cassette, immediately Whole Lotta Love starts playing. What a good song to drive to. 

I put my windows down and start driving down a long road where I know for a fact no one drives this time of night, partly because they are afraid of the sheriff, Lee Bodecker. 

Lee doesn't scare you, never has. 

Blaring music at high volume was what you  were known for in these parts and you could really care less about the time and how loud you had it. Music is a really important part of your self expression. 

Speeding down the road, cigarette in my mouth screaming the lyrics 

You need cooling

Baby I'm not fooling

I'm gonna send ya

Back to schooling

A-way down inside

A-honey you need it

I'm gonna give you my love

I'm gonna give you my love

 I smile and listen to the lyrics, I feel like such a rebel. People in these parts don't listen to this type of music, devil music they call it. They think it has some deep down evil meaning. I just shake it off, they wouldn't know real music if they tried. 

 I could just leave right now if I wanted to. Drive out of town and start fresh, no one would miss me. Except my brother and friends. They are really the only people keeping me in this dead end town. 

The cool breeze enters your hair and you lose your hair tie. Fuck. 

“ Damn It”  You say as you put the cigarette down and try to look to see where it went. It's nowhere in sight. 

“ I have to pull over to get this thing” you think to youtself. It's the only hair tie you own right now.

you light another cigarette and pull my car over to a slightly darker side of the road. You get out of the car and start searching for my hair band, it had to have fallen behind your seat. 

 Of course, you saw familiar blue and red lights pull up right behind me.

“Fuck me” you mutter as you turn around, shut the car door, kick the dirt under your feet and lean up against the car , patiently waiting for Lee to take his good ol time walking to me.

Lee exits his police cruiser wearing the typical uniform with the typical toothpick in his mouth.

You watch him as he slowly strides over towards you and You roll your eyes at him as he eyes you down, prick.

“Well, well, well, Ms. Lane. Fancy to see you here.” Lee says smirking and laying one hand on your car's trunk. You scoff at him.

“ Hands off the car, Bodecker. Thought you'd know better than to touch what's not yours.” You say looking over at him, taking a drag of your cigarette. Lee scoffs and walks over to you, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and crushing it with his shoe. Your jaw drops and you look over at him in disgust as he chuckles at your reaction to his doing.

“Pretty little ladies like you shouldnt be smokin these, could make ya look ugly” He says. 

You can smell the tobacco smell coming off him, the smell of mints sticking to his breath. He is a little closer to you now, you back up and grab your pack of cigarettes out of the cup holder in your car. Bending over, the sheriff gets a nice view of your backside for a split second.  

“Sheriff, I would like to respectfully say I do not give a fuck what a man thinks about how I look smoking a cigarette, I am not here for a mans enjoyment. Also, one more pet name and I'm telling your wife.” you say as you light another cigarette and the sound of Led Zeppelin is lingering in the background, Lee clicks his tongue and looks over at you.

“Ms.Lane, you have quite the mouth on you. Not very ladylike for a woman your age.” Lee takes his hat off and leans against your car. He lights a cigarette and stands there for a minute. You look at him confused and you roll your eyes. 

“Lee, besides bothering me, do you have a purpose being here right now?” You look at him and say while you take a drag of your cigarette. Lee looks over to you and laughs. 

“Well, I just seen a car parked all by itself on the side of the road and I was on duty anyways but then I saw your license plate and figured I'd see why you, little lady, are out all by yourself at this time of night.” Lee says throwing his cigarette on the dirt ground below him. 

You turn to look at him and finish your cigarette, leaning against the car still.

“ I appreciate your concern, Bodecker. I am just out for a drive and pulled over to find my hair tie, it came out while I was driving. Pulled over to look around for it, don't want my hair in my face while I am driving. Also, not a little lady. I am grown.” You say turning away from Lee and finding your hair tie, you turn to Lee while tying your hair up, smirking you say

“ Goodnight Officer,also don't follow me again, yeah?” You say climbing back into your car and you slowly pull away.

Lee stands there watching as you climb back into your car, the smell of your perfume in the air invades his lungs, dumbfounded, he smirks and laughs to himself. 

“Smart girl” Lee says as he smirks and turns to go back to his cruiser.

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You had noticed sometime down the road that there was a car following you with no lights on, you had just assumed it was some random person but with one certain lick of light you saw the sheriff's face in the mirror of your car mirror. Figuring that out, you went a little faster down the road and then you lost your hair tie, you knew what was coming. 

You look in the car mirror to look at Lee. He's already turned his car around and started driving the other way. You werent dumb, you know from the years of Lee catching you sneaking out and drinking and or having boys in your car as a young girl, he knows your moves. It makes you think he patrols these parts so he can catch you doing something dumb one day just to cuff you up and get some control. He never does. 

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 Two people with reputations in this town. 

 How bad can it get?

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Hi everyone! Welcome to my first fic! Lee Bodecker is quite the character and I have been wanting to write him for a while. Dont forget to leave some opinons so I can know what yall would want to possibly happen! Dont forget to like/reblog! It would mean the world. I am not sure about my posting schedule but itll most likely be once or twice a week! also let me know if youd like to be added to my tags so I can let you know when I post another chapter! 

Tags- @please-buckme , @ladyfallonavenger , @buckysdolls , @nerdy-depressed , @do-not-pray-for-me , @unsentlettersandmore , @local-spacegirl , @youcancallmeishita , @not-another-fangirl​ , @angelicbabydolll

[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 01

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.

⇁ female reader x hoseok 

⇁ smut, porn star!au

⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary

⇁ 22.5k

. . .

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*

re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !

wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment

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SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.

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Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.

You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.

Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.

The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.

Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.

What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.

To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.

A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.

And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.

You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.

Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.

Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.

“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.

Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.

In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.

“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.

Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.

“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.

Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.

When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself  to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.

To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.

“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”

“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.

Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.

Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.

The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”

You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?

“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”

“Have you seen who you’re dating?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.

You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—

The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.

You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.

Yes, that would explain it.

Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.

Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."

A muscle in your jaw ticks.

“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”

You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”

“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.

You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.

Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.

He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”

“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”

Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach. 

“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”

“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”

It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.

Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”

"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”

“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.” 

He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.

Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.

"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.

"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."

He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault. 

You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.

Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.

“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.

“What’s this?”

You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room. 

“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.

When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.

Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—

Everything around you stills.

Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.

The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.

The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink. 

2...3...4...

“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”

Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”

“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.

“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.

“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”

“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“

“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”

“He’s specialized in particular—“

“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”

“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”

Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.

“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts. 

Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.

Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”

“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”

You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.

“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”

A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”

“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”

You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”

“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“Thank you.”

“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”

Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”

“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”

“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.

Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.

“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.

For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.

You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.

Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth. 

Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.

Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.

In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.

“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to. 

“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well, no, but I still fail to—”

“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”

“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”

“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”

A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.

“It’s me.”

The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”

A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.

You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.

“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”

Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.

“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.

“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”

“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.

“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”

You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”

Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?” 

Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.

"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”

“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.

“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.

The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.

“What was that about?” 

“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’

“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”

“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”

Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.

You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”

He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”

.

.

Jimin treats you to dinner that night.

He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.

The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.

“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”

“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”

When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”

You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”

Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before. 

“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”

He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”

A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.

Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.

He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”

Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.

It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.

Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever. 

Jimin likes you for you.

When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.

For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.

Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.

Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.

That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.

It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.

Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.

In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.

Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.

“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”

You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.

“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”

Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”

“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”

“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either. 

You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”

“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.

“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”

“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.

The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.

“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”

“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”

“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”

It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”

“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”

“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”

“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”

“Apparently.”

“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”

A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.

Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?

You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.

.

.

Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.

It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.

SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!

SEOKJIN : ???

SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity. 

SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?

SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?

SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........

SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.

SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.

SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.

YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason

SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.

SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.

SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap

SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention

YOU : i’m nasty?? me????

YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak

SEOKJIN : nutté sauce

SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.

YOU : ...that’s not even a thing

SEOKJIN : well it should be!

SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.

SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.

YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok

SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out

SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”

YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot

SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!

SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.

YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity

He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.

Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned. 

To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.

As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.

Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.

From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?

You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.

The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.

Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.

Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.

“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."

“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.

“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”

“Come again?”

A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”

Your resounding silence speaks for itself.

Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.

What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.

“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”

“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."

“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”

“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”

“If I pull it off. Big if."

“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”

“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”

“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”

“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”

“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”

“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”

“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.

“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”

“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”

Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.

On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?

Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.

"Who am I working with, anyway?”

"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."

"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”

"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."

"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"

“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”

“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.

You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.

"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”

You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.

It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But the decision is already made before the call ends.

.

.

SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B. 

.

Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.

Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.

A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.

Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.

Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”

“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”

Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”

“What’s this about nut cream?”

You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.

“Oh.” You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.

You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium. 

“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.

You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.

But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.

“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”

“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”

For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?

“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.

“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”

“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”

You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.

Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.

“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”

You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”

“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”

For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”

You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.

The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.

You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.

Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.

Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.

Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”

“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”

Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”

His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”

“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”

That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.

Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.

Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.

“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”

“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.

Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.

You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.

Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.

“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.

While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.

Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.

“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”

“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”

Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”

“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”

“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He’s very friendly.”

“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.

“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”

“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”

The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.

You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.

The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.

Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.

How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.

You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.

Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.

How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.

There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.

In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.

His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.

“He seems nice.”

You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.

“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.

Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.

You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.

Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.

“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”

“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”

“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”

Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”

“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.

As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”

“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”

“Right.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.

“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”

“Good.” 

You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.

From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.

“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.

“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.

“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”

Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.

“Yep. Ok. Got it.”

You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.

Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.

At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.

Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”

“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”

“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”

You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.

“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”

You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.

Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.

“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”

His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.

The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.

Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.

The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.

When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.

Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.

The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.

A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.

To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.

Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.

“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier. 

You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?

Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.

Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.

“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”

Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.

Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.

“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.

You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”

He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.

“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.

Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.

“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”

His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.

“What else?”

“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

You let out a snort.

“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”

“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”

Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.

The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.

“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “

“When?”

He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach. 

He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.

“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”

“Hoseok!”

One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.

“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”

“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”

Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.

“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”

His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.

“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”

You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.

He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”

His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.

You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.

Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.

“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.

“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.

His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.

His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.

“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.

“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”

Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”

Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.

Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.

“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”

It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.

You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim.  He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.

An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.

He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.

“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”

Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.

It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...

But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.

Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.

“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.

Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.

Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.

Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.

A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”

Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.

“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.

Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”

Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”

“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.

“But you love me that way.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.

There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.

Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.

Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.

“And cut!”

You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.

“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”

There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.

Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in. 

You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.

“Was all of that okay?”

“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”

His voice trails off.

“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”

“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”

You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.

“Daddy?”

“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”

“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”

It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.

Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.

“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.

“Good---”

“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”

You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”

“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?

“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.

Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”

Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”

The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.

Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.

You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.

Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.

"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."

He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.

"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."

"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.

You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.

Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.

As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.

Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it. 

Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.

His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.

A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.

“And who told you you could stop?”

The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.

You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.

“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”

The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.

He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.

It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.

You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.

“Mmh, good girl.” 

He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.

“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”

The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.

You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.

Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”

His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.

“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”

His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.

Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.

Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead. 

“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.”

You thrust your hips back, shameless.

“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”

“Shit.”

He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.

Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.

Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.

"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.

You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.

When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.

Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.

You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.

"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."

"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.

You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"

“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”

He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.

“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.

As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.

You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.

Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.

“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”

For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.

“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”

He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.

Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."

"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."

He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.

The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.

“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.

"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."

"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."

Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.

"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.

"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."

"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."

"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."

And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.

"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."

“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.

One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.

When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.

"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."

The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.

But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.

For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.

"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal.  "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"

“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."

"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."

"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."

"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.

“What? Daddy why? I thought—”

He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”

The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.

"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.

"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."

He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.

When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.

"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."

"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"

"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"

"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.

In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.

You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.

“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?”

Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.

“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”

There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.

Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.

He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.

Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.

Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.

Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.

A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.

“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”

You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.

Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—

You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.

Something about his smile feels off.

Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.

Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”

The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”

Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.

“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”

“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.

When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?

Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.

“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”

Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.

“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”

Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.

“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”

“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”

Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.

But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.

“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

.

.

It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.

.

.

.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt21

hello and welcome back! i hope you are having a very good day :)

pt1

pt20

pt22

It was a rainy day at the palace when Mai had interrupted (Y/N’s) meeting with the newer war generals. They were young, but had moved up in the Fire Nation army rather quickly and were more open to change than their older counterparts. (Y/N) paused her speech to stare at me. “Oh, hello,” She said. 

“What happened?” Zuko demanded as they sat with the doctor. The poor man was wearing a nightcap and gown, but whatever the Fire Lord needed, he got. (Y/N) was very appreciative of the old man who was currently stitching up the cut on her arm and she gave him a smile before turning to Zuko and narrowing her eyes. 

“What do you mean, ‘What happened?’ I couldn’t exactly ask the details while I was fighting for my life!” Zuko opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and turned his head away from her. (Y/N) sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m still on edge. They didn’t tell me who they were or what they wanted. They just said that they were sent to punish me for crimes against the Fire Nation.” 

“What crimes?” Zuko asked. (Y/N) shrugged, wincing as the doctor stitched into her skin. 

“None that I can think of, unless trying to right your country’s wrongs is considered a crime.” 

“That has to be it. The people who are still loyal to my father...they must have sent someone after you.” Zuko turned to the guards standing watch at the door. “I want guards permanently placed outside of her rooms at all times. I want every inch of this palace watched.” 

“Yes sir,” One of the guards said, bowing and then leaving to go inform the others. 

“It’s not me they should be protecting,” (Y/N) said. “They’ll start coming for you next.” 

And (Y/N) was right, as she tended to be. Over the course of the next year, as she and Zuko tried their hardest to bring peace back into the world and make up for the hundred years of war their nation had caused, five attempts on both of their lives had been made. (Y/N) tried her best to remain strong, but she feared going to sleep at night, not knowing if she would wake up the next morning. 

Zuko’s seventeenth birthday came and went. Their friends could not pull away from their work of helping those who had been affected by the war and Uncle Iroh’s tea shop was taking off, leaving him little time to do much else. They all still sent Zuko gifts to show how much they cared, but she wasn’t sure if that was enough. (Y/N) had proposed the idea of a birthday dinner for Zuko, but he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “We’re far too busy to worry about my birthday this year,” he had said as he signed scrolls at his desk. “I might just go to Mai’s house and have a small dinner with her.” 

“If that’s what you want,” (Y/N) said with a smile, but it really felt like a punch to the gut. The last birthday she had spent with Zuko was his thirteenth. It was so many years ago that she was looking forward to doing something special with him. But she supposed she couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend his birthday with his girlfriend. (Y/N) was the one who distanced herself from him, after all. Still, she gave him the best birthday present she could come up with: a portrait of him and his mother. It had sat in the catacombs of the palace, untouched for years. Ozai had probably ordered it thrown out after Ursa’s banishment. She left it in front of his bedroom while he was out with Mai. 

(Y/N) expected her sixteenth birthday to go somewhat similarly. She was pleasantly surprised to wake up that morning to find that her friends had sent her birthday gifts from areas they had traveled. Sokka sent her a whale-bone comb from the water tribe. Aang and Katara sent her a lovely portrait of her and her friends, complete with big smiles and goofy faces. Toph had sent a letter (with Katara’s help) stating that when they reunited, she’d buy her a birthday gift that (Y/N) picked out, since Toph was blind. (Y/N) giggled as she read that. From Iroh, she received dried tea leaves that made “the best tea in all of Ba Sing Se!” as his letter said. 

Each of her gifts made her smile widely, but Zuko’s gifts had surprised her the most. A warm fruit tart was left outside of her door, along with a servant informing her that she had the day off to do what she liked and that all the costs would be covered by the Fire Lord. Then, she and Zuko would have a private dinner that night. (Y/N) thought it was a pretty sweet gift from the busiest person in the entire Fire Nation. 

Her day had gone great. She bought all of the things she had had her eye on in the market for a while, and even bought the servants and guards who accompanied her a few things that she had noticed them looking at. The royal family was beyond beyond wealthy, so (Y/N) thought a few hundred gold pieces spent on the people who made their lives easier was a manageable expense. 

When she returned to the palace, she readied herself for dinner and joined Zuko in the dining room. A feast had been prepared for the two of them, complete with all of their favorite things they used to eat as children. (Y/N) and Zuko dug into the meal, leaving little time for conversation, but they enjoyed each other’s company just the same. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt like she was just spending time with her old friend again. 

That was, until a guard came in and whispered into Zuko’s ear. He looked at (Y/N) apologetically. “Fire Lord stuff, I have to go. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), it’s very urgent.” 

“Oh,” She said, swallowing her noodles. “Do you need me to come?” 

“No, no, I gave you the day off. Enjoy it.” He walked to her seat and bent down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).” 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, before watching him be led away by the guards. (Y/N) had known for her entire life that Zuko would become Fire Lord, yet there was nothing she could do to prepare herself for it. She ate the rest of her birthday dinner alone, and then retired to bed at an early hour. 

---

The sixth assassination attempt was the final straw for Zuko. He kept the assassin prisoner and interrogated them for information. This interrogation led him out of the Fire Nation and to the Earth Kingdom colony of Yu Dao. All of his decisions were made in a split second, including the one where he left (Y/N) in charge of the entire Fire Nation. 

“You can’t possibly be serious,” One of his other advisors said, “Leaving this girl in charge of your country while you are gone.” 

“This girl helped save the entire world from destruction, so I suggest you start listening to her. Besides, as soon as I walk out these doors, she might choose to fire you, and I’d absolutely back her up, no questions asks.” Zuko raised his eyebrow at the advisor, who immediately kept his words to himself. 

(Y/N) approached Zuko and tugged on his robes. “If I’m interim Fire Lord, do I get to wear the thing?” 

“The thing?” Zuko asked. She put her hand behind her topknot and waved her fingers around like a flame. “You mean the Fire Lord crown?” Zuko laughed heartily for the first time in a while. “Yeah, you can wear the Fire Lord crown.” 

“Yes!” (Y/N) said quietly to herself. It wasn’t so much that she wanted the power of being temporary Fire Lord, but she had always thought the crown looked really cool. 

Zuko took the crown from his own topknot and placed it in hers. “There. Don’t go burning the city down.” (Y/N) scoffed. 

“That runs in your family, not mine.” She walked away with her head held high, already giving her fellow advisors briefings about what decisions she and Zuko had come up with for the nation. Zuko watched as the old men begrudgingly listened to the young girl’s orders before departing to the Earth Kingdom. 

Zuko made some very questionable decisions while he was away. He had sent a messenger hawk to (Y/N) informing her that the Fire Nation was now pulling out of the Harmony Restoration Movement. He had learned that some of the families within the colonies where blended mixtures of fire and earthbenders. He explained to her how he didn’t feel right separating families or making people leave their homes, so that was why he no longer wanted to back the movement. (Y/N) was nervous about this decision, because everyone else in the world was for the movement, but Zuko had essentially given an order. He was the Fire Lord and he was trying to do what was best for his nation. She had to remind that little voice in the back of her head that Zuko was not Ozai. He was not the person he was before. So, she informed the advisors of the order and planned for the repercussions accordingly. 

It was a rainy day at the palace when Mai had interrupted (Y/N’s) meeting with the newer war generals. They were young, but had moved up in the Fire Nation army rather quickly and were more open to change than their older counterparts. (Y/N) paused her speech to stare at her. “Oh, hello,” She said. 

“Could I speak to you for a moment?” Mai asked. (Y/N) nodded and left the table, promising that she would return shortly. She and Mai stepped outside the room. 

“What’s up?” She asked. 

“I’ve been worried about you and Zuko.” 

“Me and Zuko? Why?” 

“Because of all the assassination attempts?” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Right, those. Forgot about those.” 

“Listen, I asked Ty Lee if she and the Kyoshi Warriors would mind keeping an eye on the place, since the guards obviously aren’t doing great. I wanted to double check that it was okay with you.” 

That honestly surprised (Y/N). She had never had anything against Mai, except that she had tried to kill her on multiple occasions (but at this point, very few of her friends hadn’t) and was dating the boy she loved. They had grown up together but she had never really considered themselves to be friends; moreso acquaintances who had a lot of mutual friends. So, the fact that Mai was asking for her permission to bring in the Kyoshi Warriors because she was worried about her meant a lot. 

“That’s completely fine by me,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of it.” 

Mai shrugged. “Both you and Zuko are way too busy to have to worry about keeping yourselves alive.” She leaned in close to (Y/N). “By the way, I’m pretty sure all of those boys in there are completely in love with you.” 

(Y/N) laughed. “Makes my job of getting them to do what I want easier.” Mai gave her a small, very Mai-like smile before walking away. (Y/N) wondered if maybe Mai was soft on the inside like she was. 

---

Tag List!

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[dreaming-of-assclass]

"ive never felt like this about anyone before!" with terasaka and nagisa?? (or just karmagisa if ur uncomfy with that! :>)

Pairing: Nagisa Shiota/Ryoma Terasaka

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Word Count: 1,588

A/N: Aww this is a cute pairing! I decided to go the classic route of confessing with chocolates UwU. Also ft. BFF/wingwoman Kayano!! I really like the honest simplicity of Nagisa and Terasaka’s relationship, and I hope I conveyed that well.

Before joining 3-E, Nagisa never really thought of himself as unpredictable. He’d always been a simple guy, with not many quirks. Maybe a bit of a wallflower, even. He liked observing others and the nuances of human nature. He liked seeing how other people could be surprising. 

But then 3-E happened, and he kept receiving constant praises of his “natural talents.” How stealthy he was, how he took down Takaoka, how he kept on shocking his classmates and teachers with his capriciousness, etc.

Nagisa couldn’t help but enjoy the attention, although he tried his best to hide it. But truth be told, he still saw himself as a simple person. And a part of him preferred it that way, seeking out some normalcy in the midst of his transformed life. 

And now, as he stood in his kitchen, eyes wide at the countertop covered with a dozen different ingredients, he was wishing he’d been more unique after all. 

Chocolates on Valentine’s Day? How unoriginal, he sighed internally. 

Nagisa reached for his plain navy apron and looped it over his head, the fabric tickling his nose. He tied the straps behind him and took a deep breath, eyeing the gourmet bar of 80% cacao he’d purchased.

Before he could linger on his doubts and call off the entire thing, his best friend (and baking partner) returned from the bathroom. Kayano bounded into the kitchen with a grin on her face. “Sorry for making you wait, Nagisa. I just had to take care of a small hair emergency!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Nagisa quickly reassured her with a smile. He glanced at her dark messy bun, fondly recalling the old quirky jade pigtails he’d grown used to for an entire year. “Thanks again for helping me out, Kayano.”

“Of course!” she replied, skillfully tying on her own butterscotch apron. “What are friends for, if not helping you make chocolates because you’re a hopeless mess in the kitchen?”

Nagisa laughed and stepped back to give her room as she started examining the ingredients. “Yeah, I would’ve destroyed my kitchen. Cooking is one thing, but I’m not good at baking...and I’ve never made chocolates before.”

“That’s fine. They’re pretty easy to make, once you get past the beginning,” Kayano assured him with a smile.

They fell into comfortable conversation as they worked through the recipe. Nagisa’s clumsy hands nearly made a few mistakes, but Kayano was quick to assist him. Eventually, they stood by and waited for the chocolate to melt over the stove, with Nagisa continuously stirring it.

“I really appreciate you helping me. Seriously, that’s so nice of you. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

He paused then quickly fixed his words, stammering. “I-I mean, you can ask for anything at any time, of course! I just meant to return the favor, you know?”

Kayano laughed. “Relax, Nagisa. This is nothing compared to what an awesome friend you’ve been for me. You don’t owe me anything.”

He frowned slightly. “But…”

She hummed in thought. “I guess I am pretty curious to know who you’re giving them to, though? But only if you’re comfortable sharing!”

There was a brief silence, only the stirring of the liquid chocolate filling the air between them. 

“Nagisa…?”

“Terasaka-kun.”

“Huh?”

He sighed with a smile. “I’m making these for Terasaka-kun.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Aww!”

Nagisa winced at her high-pitched squeal then smiled at her acceptance. “You’re not surprised?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “You guys have always had a very sweet and trusting relationship.” 

Nagisa felt his face heat up. “You think so?” he asked quietly, returning his gaze back to the pot.

“Yes, I do,” she smiled. “They say the best relationships always do come after one of you nearly blows the other up, anyways~”

He groaned as she laughed. 

Another stretch of comfortable silence passed and soon, they were onto decorating the chocolates. Nagisa watched in awe as she delicately laced the top of the rich chocolates with a caramel icing. 

Finally, it was his turn. He carefully made a tiny flower design with the hazelnut icing tube. “You know…” he began.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” he admitted quietly. “Making chocolates...confessing...I never acted on my feelings or was proactive.” Nagisa’s eyes were trained on what he was doing, but he could feel Kayano’s gaze on him.

“But...the way I feel about Terasaka-kun. With him. Around him…” A small smile etched onto his face. “It’s such an intense, engulfing feeling. But at the same time, it makes me feel lighter than air.”

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

The next day was Valentine’s Day, and Nagisa swore, he never heard his own heart beat so rapidly before in his whole life. 

He had texted Terasaka that morning to meet up somewhere, under the context of borrowing a book. The five minutes in which he’d awaited a response were the most agonizing he’d ever felt. Was he being too obvious? Terasaka responded positively though, with a short “yeah ofc. see u later.” Nagisa had fallen out of his bed in relief.

Now he was standing outside the local library, clutching onto his schoolbag. He was still in his uniform, and he bet Terasaka would be as well since school hours had just ended. 

Valentine’s Day had been uneventful for the most part. He’d gotten friendship chocolates from most of the girls in his class, a completely platonic gesture. Nagisa made a mental note of who he would give gifts to on White Day, to return such a kind gesture. Outside of that, he’d just watched in amusement at some of the antics going on around him. Chocolates being given by the hundreds to popular boys, confessions going wildly wrong and descending into chaos, fangirls, all the like. 

“Yo!” His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. Nagisa jolted up at the sight of Terasaka making his way towards him. The object of his affection was uniform-clad in a rather neat manner, with his school bag slung over his shoulder, wearing a fond grin once his eyes locked with Nagisa’s.

Nagisa felt his stomach tighten, as if a bunch of knots were tied inside. This is it… “Hey,” he greeted with a smile, waving to the taller boy. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Terasaka replied warmly, slowing to a stop a couple feet in front of him. “How’s this crappy holiday been for ya?”

“Heh, pretty boring,” Nagisa chuckled. “Like always, I just get friendship chocolates from the girls in my class.”

“Really? That’s still cool.” 

Nagisa hummed. “What about you?” He asked, instantly dreading the answer.

Terasaka laughed lightly. “I got some from the squad as a joke, and I’m completely fine with that.”

“Oh, haha.” Nagisa felt a weight lift off his chest at the response, and his grip tightened on his bag.

Terasaka frowned slightly at him. “You okay? You’re acting a little weird.”

Now? Nagisa questioned himself. Now feels right…

Finally making his resolve, Nagisa chose not to answer verbally. Instead, he quickly opened his bag and pulled out the decorated box. He opted to go simple, rather than the ornate boxes he’d seen people give. It was a small square shape in a deep crimson color, topped by a golden bow. 

“Terasaka-kun…” Nagisa let out a sharp breath he was unaware he’d been holding. He lifted his gaze to meet Terasaka’s, and offered him a genuine smile.

“I really like you. And I made you these chocolates.” He extended his hand holding the box. “Will you go out with me?”

A tiny part of Nagisa’s mind, within his conscious, was blown away at his actions. He was seriously confessing to his crush. With homemade chocolates. Is this for real?

But Nagisa was nothing if not honest. And that extended to even himself. 

A second had passed and Terasaka gently took the chocolates from him, a warm look in his eyes that made Nagisa melt just a little. His lips were curved into a rare smile of faded surprise and contentment.

Finally he spoke, his voice like honey, full of affection. “Of course I’ll go out with you, stupid. I like you too.”

Nagisa’s chest swelled with joy. He smiled stronger than he ever had before, a rush of emotion passing through him.

Terasaka’s attention had shifted to the box in his large hands, and he tugged the bow off. “You made these yourself?” He sounded curious.

“Yes...but with a lot of help from Kayano,” Nagisa admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Terasaka laughed as he opened it, picking up the one that Nagisa had decorated with a flower. “They look awesome.” He plucked it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. His eyes soon lit up. “Woah, they taste great too!”

“Really?!” Nagisa asked excitedly, feeling a bit of pride. 

“For sure.” Terasaka nodded with a grin that soon turned shy. He averted his gaze slightly, his face pink. “Thanks for making these for me…”

“I’m glad you like them,” Nagisa said somewhat absentmindedly, his attention focused on how cute Terasaka’s shy smile was.

His thoughts were interrupted by Terasaka suddenly leaning in closer. “Wait uh…” His crush’s face reddened even more. “...Can I kiss you?”

Nagisa felt his own face flush as he nodded. 

The kiss was simple and sweet, yet filled with strong genuine emotions. It was almost like a representative of their bond. 

And Nagisa wouldn’t have it any other way.