#but those marks will still be there on saturday

[draculacunt]

not bad for just my fingernails

[freebooter4ever]

i send my friend suggestions of tourist places to see in his new country (his contract was extended, lucky him!) or messages about friend of friends i have living there that he could maybe meet for fellow americans to talk to, and his response is always that he doesnt have time. and not in that exaggerated way that people do to seem busy. but in that bone tired way i recognize from him here in LA, that i recognize in myself.

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny lives in a horror horror movie-part 2

Part 1

Once again this is inspired by surrealist horror books and podcasts. This is mainly inspired by Welcome to Nightvale more directly with other influences as well.

The people of Amity Park are strange. The entire town was off.

Wes, the teenager that worked late at the gas station was not the talkative sort but he gave quite the few clues.

"You aren't from here aren't you?" He said cleaning the black blood off his face.

"Uh, no. We are hero sent to investigate-" Superman tried to explain but Wes began laughing.

"Heros?! Haha! That's a new one. Alright, nutcases you got me." Wes laughed "New people are great. I only get locals these days."

"Wait, so no one outside the town comes here?" Batman asked, still trying to keep this investigation on track.

Wes went silent.

"No one comes here. This gas station is on the edge of town." He picked up his book again.

"If no one comes to this town why is there a gas station built just outside the city limits?" Batman asked this time more firmly.

"Let me specify. People tend to come here once. People come into town every once in a while and they stay. They don't leave. No one leaves." Wes didn't sound like he was making a threat just saying what he believed.

"That's not normal. Why would that happen?" Batman asked.

Wes sighed deeply as if he had this conversation time and time again.

"People don't just end up here. Usually, the ones that come here are those that want to leave their old life behind. They don't look for this place they just end up here. Sometimes they get freaked out but they settle like the rest of us and just make their place here." He explained but he really didn't feel like it.

When another question popped up Wes just turned his radio to a station and turned it all the way up.

"Good Evening citizens of Amity Park. It is another beautiful night here in our quiet little town. Here at the local public broadcast station, we wish you a great day and we hope that you remembered to not leave your shoes outside your door. Amanda Sawyer forgot last Saturday and hasn't been seen since. Please remember or end up like poor Amanda. This was a warning from the town's public health committee." A young but not too young voice said over the radio. "You know that is the mark of a caring local government. Sure they spend so much on bloodstone alters and bi-yearly mandatory festivals but we all know it's for our health and happiness. Now moving on to current events: A group of strangely dressed visitors are in our town. They are at the Cabbymart Gas Station at the end of town. They are asking Wes a lot of questions and Wes as always is in a bad mood. Hang in there Wes we all have those days. Retail am I right? We'll check in later with an update as this story evolves. Remember to welcome our visitors when you see them. Until then here is the-."

The broadcast was switched off as Wes turned to another station.

"Who was that? What was that actually?!" Flash asked hysterically.

"That's just Danny. He works at the radio station now." Wes grunted still not in the mood.

"Okay but how did he know we were here? We just got here and we haven't even gone into town."

"He just knows. I don't even get what you're asking! Why wouldn't he know, he reports the news?! Look can you guys just buy something or leave?" Wes said exasperated.

The heroes had little chance of getting more answers out of the teen so they went into town. Despite it being past midnight now the people of Amity Park were up and about. Watering their gardens and talking in front of illuminated cafés. They all looked carefree and jovial. Even a woman greeted them like the sight of people dressed in capes and spandex was normal.

But things here seemed out of place. Things just didn't match. Bloodstains made patterns into the sidewalk like children's sidewalk chalk.

The buzz if the radio station broadcast could be heard from window sills.

"We interrupt this broadcast for our sponsor Subway. Subway: Eat your cold dead heart out. Now with that out of the way an update on the revolutionary ghost situation. The mayor had formally declared that he would be kept at the museum where he could parade about however he liked. I'm sure the children of the town will adore his charming way of shooting at nothing and spending an hour to reload. There is also an update on the amusement park now that Mr.Stiches caretaker role has been filled by my friend Sam we can expect the horror house can finally reopen for the season. Buy tickets now. And lastly the update on the stangers in town. The brightly colored fellows are still meandering around town. I wonder what they're thinking. Probably things like: Where are these bloodstains from? What are we doing here? And most importantly. Will I ever see my family again? All good questions."

Amity Park was a strange place. But the people liked it that way. They never blinked twice at the horrid and horrific thanks that happened. Perhaps they were monsters in their own right but unlike the jaded masses of Gotham, they were downright jovial about it. In their world, there weren't demonic entities or ancient gods. What they experienced were things, undefined by mortals. Reality blurred with something else, somewhere else. So they adapted.

It was when the heros was a group of children attacked this Thing with long knurled limp and lips like puss-filled sacs under the watchful eyes of parents did they understand. They were the monsters here.

"Another win for Girl Scout Troop 667 in their hunt. Their parents must be so proud. It brings me back to 4th grade when all the children were kidnapped and brought to the library by the monstrosities we call librarians for the summer reading program. Had it not been for Valerie and her high reading comprehension score and display of berserker rage tactics we would have probably all died. I still remember as she stood over the body of the fallen librarian with the bloodied book Hannibal held aloft. She was an inspiration to us all and the reason we fled to the woods to train under her as her children's militia. Books and knives in hand we well-read warriors set out to keep our town safe. Remember kids of Amity Park, we look to heroes like Valerie and the clawed librarian's hand that hangs around her neck as a symbol of pride. Don't forget to return your library book. The librarians are still alive and while the most feral ones have been disposed of there still is a small population of them left in order to preserve the local food chain and they can smell late returns."

[sincerelyneo]

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing. 

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said." 

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it. 

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style. 

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight. 

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night. 

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core. 

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him. 

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant. 

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room. 

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts. 

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago. 

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.” 

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks. 

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it. 

Well, you won't be on your  knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard. 

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re  faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go. 

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense. 

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker. 

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him. 

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!” 

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.” 

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake. 

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it. 

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours. 

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it? 

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way." 

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you. 

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him. 

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say." 

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest. 

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't." 

But you do it. 

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder. 

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely. 

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you. 

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. 

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house. 

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground. 

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!” 

You groan, I'm going to my room." 

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll  just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know. 

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently. 

“What are you doing?” You spit. 

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan. 

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.” 

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy. 

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him. 

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you. 

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh. 

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel. 

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked. 

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear. 

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep. 

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck. 

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core. 

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that. 

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him. 

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you. 

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach. 

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?" 

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question." 

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head. 

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed. 

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face. 

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway. 

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base. 

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes. 

Fuck no. Absolutely not. 

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper. 

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?" 

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs. 

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling. 

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs. 

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him. 

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp. 

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it. 

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch. 

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach. 

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling. 

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core. 

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge. 

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster. 

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again. 

"Yes, and what else?" He growls. 

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues. 

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough. 

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down. 

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning. 

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before. 

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.” 

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed. 

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would." 

He’s thought about this? You know you have. 

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down. 

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions. 

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion. 

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off." 

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy. 

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets. 

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it. 

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t  move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely. 

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.” 

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick. 

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt. 

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards. 

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking  another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock." 

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat. 

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.  

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop. 

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. 

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter. 

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?" 

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod. 

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip. 

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat. 

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl." 

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more. 

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk. 

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself. 

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks. 

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer? 

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him. 

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him. 

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

 You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore. 

"You want it." He says point blankly. 

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget. 

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites. 

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them. 

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity. 

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere. 

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on. 

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still. 

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats. 

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes. 

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?” 

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you. 

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined." 

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring. 

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now. 

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him. 

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe. 

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like  Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth. 

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it. 

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply. 

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face. 

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?" 

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased. 

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him. 

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again. 

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth. 

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now. 

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about. 

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling. 

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door. 

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?" 

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door. 

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass. 

"One second," you shout,  jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it. 

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you. 

"I was hot." You shrug. 

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.” 

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony. 

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you. 

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.” 

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself. 

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you. 

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh. 

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh. 

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling. 

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[ggomos-maribat]

Double Lives

Damian was certain that his wife was keeping a secret from him.

He trusted her with his life, of course—Marinette had kept a number of things from him in the earlier stages of their relationship, like her experience and trauma in Paris. He knew not to pry, and eventually she opened up. He was glad that some burden was taken off her shoulders.

But this was different. She was deliberately trying not to get caught; she took care to hide her phone from his view, and there were days she'd come home very late. When asked, she'd get irritable but also nervous around him. Damian didn't want to assume things right off the bat, but he did hope she would finally grow comfortable to talk it out with him. And so he resisted using his ‘resources’ to peek into her life—what kind of distrusting partner would he be if he did that?

He knew, too, that he was being awfully hypocritical. He was still yet to sit her down and reveal his vigilante alter ego to her as well as his family's. Damian would swear he planned to rip the bandaid off when they got engaged. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, out of the fear that she'd leave him. As far as he knew, Marinette wanted a normal quiet life after living through the Evil Butterfly Man's reign of terror. Telling her his identity would just put a target on her back, if there wasn't any already after she became a Wayne.

He couldn't imagine his sweet innocent wife exposed to the horrors of vigilantism.

Still, even though he had his own secrets, it felt quite frustrating not to know hers. That was what Damian was thinking one dark night when the door finally opened, signalling her arrival from work.

“Damian?” Her eyes widened. “Why are you still up? You shouldn't have waited for me.”

“It's alright. I couldn't sleep anyways.” And I will be sneaking out for patrol later. He stood up to kiss her cheek—

But froze upon seeing a red mark right at the base of her neck.

Marinette hummed tiredly. “Next time, don't wait for me if you're tired, okay?”

“. . . What's that on your neck?” He dared to ask.

Her hand immediately flew to the spot on her skin. For a split second, her expression changed into a hint of annoyance. “It's—it's . . .” she stammered, “I accidentally hit myself.”

“You hit yourself?”

She nodded meekly.

Damian stared at her for a moment. There was one thing he knew about his wife: she was a bad liar. But she was expert at omitting things, partly because she probably knew he wouldn't interrogate her further. He knew that she was aware it was the vaguest of explanations but she never tried to elaborate.

He mustered out a smile. “Be careful next time.”

She let out a nervous laugh and squeaked out a ‘yes’.

“By the way.” He took a deep breath, “I visited your office this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and your secretary told me you hadn't punched in for the day yet.”

The silence between them was thick.

“Ah . . .” Damian could practically see the gears turning in her head. “That was . . . erm, I had to run an errand before work! Yeah . . .”

“I see. I was hoping to have lunch with you earlier but it seems that you're busy nowadays.”

She cursed in French under her breath.

“I'm really sorry, Damian.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “I'll make time this week. I promise.”

She hurried off to their bedroom, leaving Damian with his thoughts.

He really really didn't want to assume the worst. But his heart was racing and when he looked at the signs, they were clear as day. His mind started to spiral a little, wondering where he could've gone wrong, wondering if he didn't spend enough time on her or if she felt that he wasn't giving enough effort.

But he pushed all those thoughts away and followed her to bed.

***

One Saturday afternoon saw Robin and Superboy in the Watchtower's breakroom, talking about Damian's predicament. He hoped his friend could at least contribute an objective outsider's perspective in his dilemma and encourage him to broach the topic with Marinette.

“She's cheating,” Superboy deadpanned.

“She's—she's not,” he argued back, “Perhaps I am just reading too much into it . . .”

“Um but the hickey? The late night escapades?” Superboy frowned. “I don't know about you, but I don't think there's any other explanation for it.”

Robin bit his tongue. No, it's not possible. He loved Marinette terribly, and he knew—he could feel the same love from her if not more.

His friend sighed, “Look, I know it's hard to believe. Even I don't think M can be . . . unfaithful but you should confront her about it.”

“I can't. I can't face her like that when I am still keeping a secret of my own.”

“Then tell her you're Robin. A secret for a secret, hm?”

Robin didn't even want to think about how messy that conversation would be.

“It's all just about communication,” Superboy continued. “If you're worried she won't accept you, take my mom and dad as an example—”

He stopped talking, indicating that he sensed another presence nearby. Just on cue, a fuming Ladybug stomped into the breakroom, heading straight to one of the refrigerators.

The two men watched as she muttered angrily while looking around for food—Robin could see the clear exhaustion on her tensed figure. The Parisian heroine had joined the Justice League after the Hawkmoth fiasco became public; the heroes were quick to recruit her but not before she voiced out her complaints about the League neglecting her city. Though she hadn't revealed her identity to anyone, she had formed bonds with the other heroes her age, not excluding Robin and Superboy.

Superboy winced when she kicked the fridge door.

Ladybug did a hundred eighty, showing both the fires of hell and sleepless nights in her blue eyes. “You don't happen to have an extra stock of Kryptonite, do you?”

Superboy looked at her warily. “What happened this time?”

“Your dad assigned me to another magic-involved mission!” She tugged at her hair, sitting beside them. “I thought I made it clear I didn't want to be involved in too many missions especially if it's non-miraculous related ones!”

“You could . . . tell him that?”

She shot a sharp glare at them. “You don't think I did? They're insisting it's miraculous related when Constantine hasn't even confirmed anything! Just because Paris was terrorized, it doesn't mean miraculi are going to pop out from everywhere! These missions are affecting my normal life!”

It was a common complaint for heroes who had alternate civilian lives, but Robin was a bit surprised that she was that open about her feelings.

“And—and Batman too!” She pointed a finger at Robin. “I know Monsieur Furry's guilty about the Paris thing and all and me not having a mentor but he keeps checking on my progress after missions liked a damned helicopter parent! “

Before either of them could reply, she continued ranting, “I was going to meet an important client yesterday but they just had to call me in to help with the mission! And then it goes on until freaking midnight! What about my precious sleep?! Then Zatanna accidentally used a spell on me—it hit my neck and now it looks like a hickey!”

Her head dropped onto the table. “How the fuck do I fucking explain that to my husband?!”

Robin and Superboy looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“You—you haven't told your husband that you're a hero?” Superboy asked carefully.

Not lifting up her head, she replied with a muffled voice, “Of course not! I can't do that to him! He's already exposed to enough danger because of his last name! I just can't tell him ‘ hey mon amour so I'm actually that heroine from Paris on top of my emotional PTSD!’”

Robin swallowed. That was Marinette's name for him.

It ticked too many boxes.

He started to subconsciously connect the dots: catching his wife absent at work at the time the magic-wielding team of the JL was away on a mission; Ladybug sharing that she finally linked up messages from her yoyo to her personal phone; his wife coming home late, tired and fatigued from head to toe when all she was supposed to be doing was designing.

“I'm sure he'll come to understand your circumstances,” Superboy consoled.

“He won't.” The heroine sat up, revealing that her eyes were now welling up with tears. “He probably hates me right now because I'm sending the wrong signals. What if he thinks I'm just taking advantage of him for his money? His family already hates me! What if he's filing for a divorce right now?”

Robin felt the nudge from his friend, as if to tell him to do damage control. Superboy abruptly stood up, spouted out an excuse about being called by someone, and left the room to the two of them.

Ladybug sniffed, “Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that.”

“It helps to get your problems off your chest.” Robin awkwardly patted her head. In truth, she was really Marinette, he wanted to pull her into a hug already.

He coughed. “Why—why do you think your husband's family hates you?”

“Oh . . . I don't know, but his father’s always distant. Whenever I'm at a family dinner, they're just very quiet,” she replied sadly. “I know they're good people but I felt like I didn't belong somehow. My husband keeps saying they adore me though.”

Robin wanted to sigh out loud. His father still had his guard up because he believed she was a civilian, hence there was a side of her family they could never show her. It was always quiet due to Alfred's stern lecture about behaving in front of Marinette lest they accidentally spill something they shouldn't.

“It sounds like your husband cares a lot about you,” he told her, “Don't you think he would trust you if you told him the truth?”

“But I can't! I don't know where to begin!” She pursed her lips. “He's always been good to me and he never steps the line even if I'm obviously lying. I just . . . I thought I could tell him before we got married but I was too scared and I didn't want to ruin what we had.”

“But he won't think any differently of you, would he?”

“No . . .”

“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” He smiled a little. “It may come off as a shock at first but he will accept it in time. You will be stressing yourself out even more if you keep thinking about the worst scenarios.”

She stared at him. “When did you get so wise?”

“Ever since I started thinking about what my wife was doing.”

She tilted her head. “Huh?”

It was unmistakable. Those gleaming blue eyes were Marinette's.

He was such an idiot.

“She keeps coming home late, hides her phone every time I'm near,” he listed, gauging her reaction. “Last night, I found out she hadn't come to her office even when she said she was working, and I caught her with a strange mark on her neck.”

Her eyes slowly widened as she seemed to come to the same realization. The heroine's gloved hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Damian?” she whispered.

He checked if the coast was clear and slowly peeled off his domino mask to show his full face. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you habib –”

He was cut off by her warm lips, her arms winding around his neck. Damian immediately melted into her touch, relieved that they finally divulged their secrets. He wouldn't have to be worried about introducing her to the hero world after all.

He was extremely relieved, in fact, that he hadn't noticed his father and eldest brother stroll into the room.

“ROBIN! Are you cheating on your wife?!”

Robin pulled away from Ladybug, withholding a sigh of exasperation. He put his mask back on and turned around to see Batman looking constipated and Nightwing utterly shocked.

"How could you do that to—to . . ." Nightwing cried out.

"Leave us." He glared.

"Robin—" His father's voice was tinged with disapproval.

"Leave. Us."

Fortunately, the two scurried off. Damian faced his wife, who seemed as flabbergasted. He was worried since it was her identity that was at risk, unless he embraced the unexpected cheating allegations.

"Oh my kwamis," Ladybug said softly, "I called my father-in-law a furry ."

"It's deserved." He rubbed up and down her shoulders. "What do you want to do?"

"Oh um . . ." She ducked her head. "Maybe go home and I'll—I'll explain everything from the beginning."

***

Damian had to recount his life story after his wife shared hers whilst they cuddled in bed. After they talked, he was surprised to learn so many new things about her—he thought he had her memorized already, even before they exchanged vows. At the same time, he was mentally kicking himself for thinking that Marinette was never closely involved in the war against Hawkmoth.

Of course she was Ladybug.

Of course she was a hero.

So while she was spiraling at the number of times she'd unknowingly mocked her in-laws in the suit, he was regretting not telling her the truth sooner. If they'd opened up years ago, he would've stayed by her side during missions, helping her deal with the troubles of having a masked alter egos, and sharing his own experiences with her. A stronger bond would've formed between them, because they both understood the hero's life after all this time.

Not long after, she finally decided she was ready to tell the Waynes who she was. ‘It would do more harm than good if I kept hiding it anyway,’ she reasoned. He did agree, since she was part of the family, both as Ladybug and Marinette. The others would surely be overjoyed (and less overprotective) if they found out that she was a hero. What Damian found strange, however, was Marinette seemed to worry that Bruce's opinion on her would change and he'd become ‘distant’ as Batman as well.

“Remember, Batman is afraid of you,” he had reminded her over and over again.

(And Batman would be ecstatic to discover that Ladybug was his daughter-in-law, but Damian would never tell her that. The caped vigilante had grown fussy over the Parisian heroes as his way of ‘making up’ for the Paris incidents . . . But at the same time, he cowered ever so slightly when Ladybug raised her voice on him. Damian's siblings blamed Ladybug's black hair and blue eyes for triggering the adopt-itis.)

And so Damian and Marinette decided to arrange a family lunch to break the news to everyone. It was then Damian remembered that there was one issue he hadn't resolved yet.

“If you don't tell Marinette today, I'm telling her.” Dick glared at him from across the table.

Damian glanced at his watch. His wife wasn't present yet, and had sent him a message about picking up pastries from Paris first.

“Tt. That would mean revealing our identities, Richard.” He crossed his arms.

“Just because you have the mask on it doesn't mean you can do that to her!” Dick argued. “Does Ladybug even know you're married?! ”

“What did he do to Pixie-pop?” asked Jason.

“He---he—” Dick was once again trembling in anger and disbelief.

“We saw him kissing Ladybug.” It was Bruce who replied. “Damian, I never expected this from you. You will have to talk and apologize to Marinette.”

“You did what?!” Jason stood up so abruptly that the utensils clattered.

“What the fuck?” Tim exclaimed.

Stephanie gasped. “What the hell Damian?”

“Holy shit,” Duke whispered.

Damian could only stare at the entryway of the dining hall, hoping that Marinette would arrive soon. If he was left with his family any longer, they'd be beating him up and disowning him.

“I have . . . a reason,” he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't exactly tell them right off the bat, since Marinette wasn't there yet.

“Open . . . open relationship?” Cass frowned.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared at the ceiling—a portal— and from it, a figure dropped down, much to everyone's shock. Ladybug, unified with the Horse miraculous, grinned at them with an armful of boxes filled with croissants and macarons.

“Ladybug?” Bruce gaped.

“Your daughter-in-law actually.” She lowered the sunglasses, showing her narrowed eyes. “And your worst fucking nightmare.”

“W---What?”

Damian could barely control his laughter, seeing his father frozen.

She detransformed completely and scowled at Bruce. “This is technically your fault, furry old man! If you didn't keep agreeing to send me on those magical missions, I wouldn't be so tired and caused a misunderstanding in the first place.”

Damian didn't have time to shield himself from the eruption of noise on the table. With his wife's theatrical reveal, everyone was in different states of shock. Tim stood up quietly to face a wall with a blank stare, entertaining another existential crisis. Duke choked on the water he was drinking. Jason was crouched on the floor miserably with his hands over his face, perhaps because of the times he complained to Marinette about Ladybug's uptight methods. Dick's jaw was completely unhinged, and he was slapping himself every minute or so. Stephanie passed a hundred dollar bill to Cass.

And Bruce. Poor Bruce was paler than their porcelain plates, speechless and unmoving.

Damian exchanged a wide smile with his wife. He loved her so much.

[sincerelybubbles]

i've noticed you

pairing: spencer reid x profiler!reader

warnings: fluff, not proof read (as is the usual oops), slightly slightly suggestive

word count: 2.6k

it's a late night in the office. dim light casts shadows across the bull pen. you squint your tired eyes to focus them on the document in your hand. hours have passed since everyone else went home but you stayed behind. something about pushing into the early hours of the weekend to finish off a long week is better for your mental health than leaving the documents for monday. the totality of closing the folder, marking it complete, and filing it away allows you to push the details of your cases to the back of your mind. you can't forget them entirely, of course, and nightmares still haunt you, but this is the best system you've found to make yourself feel better, even if only marginally.

a call of your name, soft and familiar, startles you. you jump, chair pushing back a few inches. you look up to see spencer standing in the doorway, giving you a confused look. his bag is strapped across his chest, hands clutching it, eyebrows raised. he's dressed more casually than you're used to: a plain blue shirt, khaki pants, his usual dress shoes. his hair is messy and his eyes look sleepy behind the confusion, like he'd only just woken up.

"hey, reid," you say, catching a yawn in the middle of saying his name. "you scared me."

"i could say the same to you. what are you doing here at," he checks his watch, flicking his wrist to right it in a movement that has your chest tightening. "3:46 in the morning on a saturday?"

"i could say the same to you," you mimic him, sending him a wide smile. you lift up your documents when he sends you an unamused look, waving the folder. "just finishing up before the weekend."

"you have over two weeks to have those reports filed, though?"

"helps me sleep better to have them done, i guess. you never answered me, though -- why are you here?"

"ironically, to help myself sleep," spencer answers, crossing the room in swift, long strides to reach his desk behind yours. he deposits his bag and turns to you, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. "i get nightmares and sometimes the best thing to do is try to get some work done. helps my conscious, i guess. or, at least keeps me busy."

you nod and watch him make his way to the kitchen. "that makes sense."

"i'll be back," he calls to you over his shoulder.

you hear his return a few minutes later, eyes trained on your file again. you don't look up this time, now that you know who it is. you're too focused on finishing these last few documents and fully aware that it's sort of hard to stop looking at spencer once you start.

the gentle click of a mug hitting your desk grabs your attention, though, and you tear your eyes from the page to look up.

spencer is leaning across your desk, nudging a yellow mug toward you, smiling widely. your throat tightens, a quick flash of pleasant awareness of him, and you swallow it away.

"what's this?" you ask, reaching for the mug. he doesn't let go as you expected and your fingers brush against each other. he shrugs instead of answering, leaning back against the desk next to yours and taking a sip from his own mug.

"coffee."

you take a sip, surprised to find it made exactly how you like. you can't remember ever telling him what you like and your cheeks heat at the gesture. you're grateful that the only lamp on is yours, hiding the heat from him.

"how'd you know how i like it?" you ask, taking a sip.

"i pay attention," he says, eyes trained on yours.

"to people's coffee preferences?"

"to yours, sure."

before you can properly allow that to sink into your exhausted mind, spencer sets his mug on your desk before grabbing his own files. "mind if i join you?" he asks, dragging the nearest chair over. "at least until you go home for the night."

"yeah, sure, i could use the company," you say, clearing space for him.

||||

5:53 AM

you: [attached image]

you: i promise i'm on the way, just having the worst morning. once i get this tire fixed, i'll let you know

you sigh, throwing your phone in your bag and squatting down to examine your blown tire. you don't know what you hit but you do know it's the start to an already sour morning.

you slept with your window propped open, despite how many times you've seen that go poorly for victims, and it rained, drenching your curtains. you didn't get to pack a lunch after dealing with that and usually, you eat breakfast at the office, so now you're on the side of the wet road, blown tire, and late for the first time in years.

your phone buzzes twice and you stand to dig it out of your bag.

5:55 AM

morgan: bad morning, pretty girl?

hotchner: don't worry about it, stay safe.

you roll your eyes at morgan, chest feeling lighter at hotch's reply. you hadn't expected him to be angry, this wasn't something anyone could foresee, but his answer still lessens the anxiety in your chest.

you climb into your car, turning on the heat and holding your hands to the vent for a few moments. you sit there for a few minutes past when you've thawed, dreading reentering the wet morning to change the tire.

the sound of a car door opening and shutting grabs your attention and you look in the rearview to see spencer walking toward you, hitting the button to lock one of the company vans. he's holding a bag in his hands, walking briskly to avoid getting too wet in the morning mist.

you throw open the passenger door when he gets close enough and watch as he folds himself in the car, shutting the door and adjusting his jacket.

"hello," you say, amused, "fancy seeing you here. did hotch send you?"

"i volunteered, here." he hands you the bag. you look at him for a moment longer, watching as he fixes his hair. you return your focus to the bag when he looks over at you, embarrassed to be caught.

you find one of the kitchen muffins and a banana in the bag. you stare at it for a moment, fully aware that this is exactly what you eat most mornings at work.

"i know you usually eat at work and didn't know if you had anything here," spencer explains.

"you noticed that?"

"i noticed you," he says. your eyes snap up to meet his, heart fluttering in your chest. he doesn't look embarrassed, eyes meeting yours steadily.

you struggle to find words, heart beyond touched by the gesture. you end up muttering, "thank you, spencer."

"you're welcome." there's a moment's pause while you come to terms with the fact that this can no longer be considered one of your worst mornings. "also, there was betting about if you could change a tire."

"ah, so you're here because you didn't believe in me?"

"well," he says, cheeky, smiling over at you. "you are just sitting in your car, decidedly not changing your tire."

"i was working myself up to it!" you say in defense. it's insane to you how quickly he has shifted your mood in just a few minutes.

he shakes his head at you, smiling slightly, and pops his door open, "open the back," he says, stepping out.

you do as he says, opening the trunk and getting out after him.

"i really was going to do it, you don't have to," you say, following him around the back of the car and watching him shift the things around to find your spare tire.

"i got it. go sit in the car, it's cold." he rolls his sleeves up, sending you a look.

you watch his hands as he moves the fabric up, exposing his forearms. you swallow, mouth dry, as he moves to the other arm, wrists flexing and bringing his veins into focus.

"i'm not sitting in my car while you do all the work," you refute, voice wavering, tearing your eyes away from his hands. you feel like a silly schoolgirl, ogling at her crush. or, better yet, like a scandalized victorian man seeing a hint of ankle for the first time, entranced by the barest hint of innocent skin. still, under the heat of embarrassment, you can't stop yourself from shifting your weight from foot to foot watching him lift the tire from your trunk.

"why not?" he asks, carrying the donut under one arm and walking over to the flat tire. you watch him, entranced, as he crouches down to examine the flat.

"it feels wrong! really, spence," you say, walking over to him and leaning down to catch his forearm and get his attention. "you don't have to change it for me, i'm more than capable."

"i know," he says, turning to look up at you from under his lashes. he smiles, still just a hint at the corner of his lips, and nods toward the car. "still, go sit, it's cold."

"spence-" you start and he rolls his eyes, standing up so he can look down at you and crossing his arms.

he says your name lowly, leaning back against the car and raising an eyebrow. "get in the car, this will only take me a minute."

he doesn't wait for your answer, pushing himself off of the car and walking to the trunk to grab the tool kit. stunned and slightly turned on, you slowly walk back to the drivers side of the car.

"good, now eat, too," he calls.

you grab the bag of food when you sit down, letting your legs hang down outside of the car. he stands up straighter to see you over the hood of the car and grins at you, "thank you."

||||

hands sweating and heart racing, you press the button on the elevator and watch the door close. you clutch the little bag between two of your hands, rolling your head back to stretch it and stare at the ceiling.

you're a profiler, you know people, you know that your ever-growing crush on spencer is reciprocated. his face as he said "i noticed you" is the last thing you see before you sleep and you know you aren't misinterpreting the signs. still, anxiety pools when the elevator dings and you step off.

you roll out your shoulders and step into the bull pen with confidence you have to fake, putting a smile on your face and holding the little bag behind your back slightly.

"morning angel," penelope calls to you, swinging around the corner and linking her arm with yours. "did you have any fun hot dates this weekend? please say yes, i am in desperate need of someone to live vicariously through -- my love life is dry in all definitions of the word."

"sorry love," you say, patting her arm and sending her a sympathetic look. "still working on that plan i mentioned a few weeks ago."

"wait," she says, suddenly stopping and forcing you to as well. "really? because you were all gung-ho about maintaining a sense of workplace appropriate behavior and all of that other blah hr speak."

"well," you say with a shrug, smiling at the ground, "i don't know, can't a girl change her mind?"

"she most certainly can. in fact, i have right now!" you look up at her suddenly ultra cheerful voice and see spencer walking into the room, hands in his pockets and heading right for you with a smile as a greeting. "i have decided that i'm not walking you to your desk and we'll chat over lunch instead. bye!"

just as quickly as she arrived, penelope left, scampering away to her office with a grin stretching across her face. she's your best friend, the one person you tell everything, and also the source of your greatest annoyance, leaving you alone in the hallway.

"what was that about?" spencer asks, reaching you and stopping only half a step away.

"just garcia being garcia," you say, shrugging.

"well, goodmorning," spencer says, tucking his chin down to look at you better. "have a good weekend?"

"i did," you say, swallowing in a deep breath to steel your nerves. "i actually managed to go to that bookstore you told me about."

"oh really?" spencer asks, excitement animating his face. "did you talk to the store owner? she's super cool, i actually learned a lot from her about book binding last time i visited. she has a little workshop in the back."

"i did, actually. i had to get her help finding a specific book," you say, holding the bag out to him.

"oh, which one?"

"open it and see."

"it's for me?" spencer asks, looking genuinely caught off-guard. he takes the bag slowly, as if expecting you to rip it away. you nod encouragingly and he takes the cue to lift the paper out of the bag and then the book. "wait, no way. this is so cool! i've been searching for it for ages."

you watch as he opens the book and his eyes widen finding it signed. he slowly, reverently, flips the pages to look at the publication date and his eyes flick to meet yours.

"this is a first edition?"

"yeah."

"this is- how did you know?"

"i noticed you, too," you say, voice soft and hesitant. you take the half step forward so your toes are touching. surprisingly, your anxiety is nowhere to be found as you look up at him, smiling, chest warm and fingertips tingling. "i hope that's okay."

"beyond, actually," spencer answers, voice softer. the hand holding the bag and book falls, his other one lifting to your cheek, hesitant. he brushes his fingers across your cheekbone gently before moving his hand to cup the back of your neck and bringing you in for a hug. .

it's exactly how you expected hugging spencer to be, warm and all-consuming. he laughs, gentle, a vibration you can feel through his chest and into yours.

"what?" you ask, face buried in his chest.

"it's amazing how hard i'm fighting to not kiss you right now. i always thought i would be too nervous - i mean, obviously, i've kissed people before. not that that's what i should be talking about right now, but, i just mean, it's different with you. you make me happy in a way that makes me nervous, you know?"

"i know," you say, softly, cutting off his rambling with a hidden smile. he's still holding you in the empty hallway and you would love nothing more than to hear his rambling but you're also very aware that someone could walk in any moment.

you just hope that whatever this is leads to more of his thoughtless rambles - you've missed them, noticed how he's held himself back more, and you think nothing will make you happier than being the person he turns to with them.

"yeah. um, thank you. but now i'm not nervous, i'm just annoyed we're at work."

you laugh, pushing away from him, fixing his tie. "we have plenty of time, it's okay."

he doesn't say anything, his hand still on the back of your neck. instead, he slowly leans down to press his lips to your forehead. it's gentle, as if he's afraid the wrong move will break you or send you running, and you melt from it.

"plenty."

part two of it's a date will come soon!! i hope!!!! please take this as a peace offering <3 i got the idea of spencer changing a tire on my head and could NOT LET IT GO !!!! like i'm ngl, i made myself blush w this so i hope u all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

also also!! i usually like to keep my notes short but this is a reminder that my asks/inbox are always open!! and i read every reblog and comment and smile and giggle like a little kid when i see them. you all make my day every day and ily u all

[letorip]

clingy tara carpenter hcs?

clingy tara carpenter

idk why but i’m in a tara mood so this was definitely more fun to write. it’s more like headcanons than my normal ones just because i think it’s interesting to follow and i had lots of ideas but not necessarily following a through-line story like many of them do

you and Tara meet at Blackmore and she is instantly fixated on you. it’s something she tries to hide at first, she’s too used to being something of a cool, aloof girl

you’re friendly, kind, funny, and smart, and it feels weird— like when she’s with you, she’s finally breathing at full capacity. it’s kind of odd at first, that you cut away the facade she constantly puts up. with other people who chase her and flirt with her, it feels like breathing, but when you do it, it catches her off guard, and it makes her stumble, especially the first time

she’s always bugging asking Anika if you’re coming to hang out with them or at a party, and gets a bit disappointed whenever the answer is no. she’ll still go, since Mindy would kill her if she didn’t, but she’s way less excited than before

Tara decides to go the natural route, and see you out in public, but you don’t have the same major so you pretty much never cross paths on campus

she gets increasingly frustrated, going to back to back parties in search of you on a friday night, only to discover that your instagram story says you were actually at the library the entire time

she does the exact same thing the next day, on a saturday night, and ends up going to four parties only to find that you’re once more not even there

after giving up on that she just goes into your dms and musters enough courage after a week to finally send a message asking you to hang out

after you start dating, it’s even worse than tara thought

she needs you so so so bad, this girl is down atrocious

you’re pretty much inseparable after that point, not that tara would ever admit it. she’s not used to needing anyone ever, with sam leaving and her mom being the way she is ever

you go on a trip for a week with your family around the holidays and every night you and Tara fall asleep on the phone together, or you facetime for a while, and she’s counting down the days until you come back

she wants to know everything, and she watches with a small smile when you’re excitedly explaining how the trip is going

she picks you up from the airport with one of those cheesy signs, but she pretty much drops it and rushes into your arms, and she’s crying

she hates crying in public, but she’s missed you so much

she tells you everything about every movie she’s pretty much ever watched, sometimes as a way to help you sleep. you’re not actually completely listening, you just fall asleep better to her voice and movies are a thing she can talk about for a LOOOONG time

she’ll show you her favourites that she’s seen a million times, only instead of watching the movie, she’s watching your face and your expressions.

she tracks your location, but not because she’s suspicious of you. it’s because she’s paranoid that something could happen to you, and that’s the last thing she would want in the universe

if ghostface did ever come back, she’s the first to get you to safety. she’d definitely try the say-something-mean-to-get-you-to-leave tactic, but it wouldn’t work, and you’d just hold her, forehead to forehead while she cries about needing you and needing to keep you safe at the same time

she steals your shirts and your jackets whenever she can. it smells like you and it keeps her warm, and she’ll “accidentally” forget her jacket at home during the winter

she’s definitely a jealous person. she knows that everyone wants you and honestly she can’t blame them, but you’re hers and she wants everyone else to know. when a girl will approach you at the party that Tara brought you to, and she looks a little too comfortable, Tara will grab you by the arm and drag you hastily upstairs to claim her territory, and mark up your neck for proof

she’ll definitely be the type to deny she’s clingy. you’ll joking say “you’re so clingy” when she’s got her arms wrapped around you, and she’ll scoff and get genuinely offended by the insinuation that she needs you and clings to you

then of course she’ll want to cuddle 5 minutes later

thanks, hopefully will be posting again soon

[hiraethwrote]

A TICKET IN YOUR NAME

pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : the charity auction you're in charge of is closing in, and there's still a ticket reserved in his name. your executives are on your neck about wanting a clear answer if the pro player will be able to attend - with no regards for the fact that you broke up three months ago cw : pro player!kageyama, break up, post-timeskip, reader wears a dress, angst, bittersweet, heavy yearning, regret, slight profanity, lowkey self indulgent lol, no use of y/n word count : 5.8k

“Kageyama? Hey, it’s me.”

A ray of cold ran down his spine as your all too familiar voice rang in his ear, tearing painfully at his heart from the first syllable. God, how he had missed those melodic vibrations he now only heard in his dreams.

When the unknown number popped up on his phone screen, his first instinct was to let it go straight to voicemail. But for whatever reason, the voice in the back of his mind told him he should pick it up — he definitely didn’t expect to be greeted with the unforgettable tone of your voice, causing his heart to bang against its cage.

And you had called him Kageyama, instantly pulling out the amateur stitching he had applied to the tears in his heart.

It made him feel a little sick, his last name sounding foreign on your tongue. You never did that, because he hadn’t allowed it. When it came to you, he wanted to be close, intimate, especially since distance came so naturally to all of his relationships. And one thing that separated you from the rest, you called him Tobio.

Or you used to.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything-“

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, you’re good.”

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase-“ the sentence came to an abrupt halt when he swore he heard you take a sharp breath, as if you had to contain deep emotions that threatened to overtake your sense of calm. “Management keep bugging me about your ticket for the charity auction.”

“Right,” he said it so quietly he wasn’t entirely sure the microphone picked it up.

“I don’t even know if you’re in town then,” lie — a complete and utter fabrication to try and convince him, but also yourself, that you weren’t still hung up on the past — like you didn’t have his schedule for the next seven months logged into your phone, knowing very well he was in fact still available that evening. “But the ticket is still reserved in your name, and I promised my executives I would provide them with a clear answer if you were attending or not.” Again you cut yourself off, a shaky breath traveling the line, something he had learned long ago was a clear indicator that you were fighting back tears. “Told them I’d have an answer by the end of the week.”

Of course he hadn’t forgotten about the auction — you had stressed about it for months even before you broke up, being in charge of putting the whole event together. The red circle in his calendar marking the date kept coming closer and closer, and he had wondered if you would reach out to ask about it — now he had his answer.

“I’m in town,” he muttered simply, closing his eyes as he just waited for your voice to return.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you into attending or anything. If it’ll make you uncomfortable, I’m sure I’ll figure something out-“

“It won’t make me uncomfortable.” He was a little surprised by how soft his voice came out, but it was true — he would never be uncomfortable around you. “Next Saturday, right?”

“You remembered?”

“Got it circled.”

“Figured.” Silence swallowed the conversation, and it felt so unnatural. It was only with you he was able to engage in a conversation that flowed like a peaceful stream. He had been deprived of that privilege for so long, and his strangling feelings were slowly piling up inside him, weighing heavy on his heart.

He could picture you so clearly, down to the smallest detail. Right now you were probably sat behind your desk in your office, resting your forehead in the palm of your hand. And if he was still able to interpret your behaviour correctly, simply based on your tone, he suspected there were salty pools welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over any second.

At this hour, you were probably left alone in the company building, everyone else having gone home already. And he pictured you were longing to go home too, so you could change out of the boring corporate attire he knew you hated with a fiery passion. The second you were to set foot inside your apartment, you would walk straight for your closet to put on your favourite slacks — maybe, if you hadn’t thrown them out already, you would wear his old hoodie as well. “They feel like home,” you always used to say before melting into the piece of clothing that was too big for you.

It was most likely a naive fantasy, but Tobio liked to toy with the image nonetheless.

You stole his attention from his spiralling when you sighed, shifting the entire tension of the conversation into something more serious, deprived from emotion. “Black tie event. Prepare for press, the company won’t be shy about any notable names. Pro player Kageyama Tobio is one of those names. Just let me know where you’re staying, and we’ll send a car to take you to the location.”

The business voice had taken the phone call hostage, barely recognising the voice on the other end of the line. The only time you used it for not work related occasions was when you were mad at him...

“Great, thank you.”

A beat of silence. “Again, sorry to bother you. I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t… bother me.”

It felt awkward now. The ice was broken, the no-contact had failed, and now neither of you wanted to let go despite not being able to find any words to feed the conversation.

For a split second Tobio was overcome with courage, having to clear his throat before he opened his mouth, “hey, how are you-“

“I’ll see you next Saturday.” His attempt was shut down instantly, rushing to hang up after blurting out your goodbyes.

Your phone hit the desk with an obnoxious rattle before your hands came flying to cover your face, aggressive sobs tumbling past your lips.

Even though you missed him, his voice, the comfort he provided, you just did not have the strength it required to indulge in casual conversation with him. It hurt too much.

Time heals all wounds — what a load of bullshit, because here you sat, three months after the most earth shattering heartbreak you had ever experienced and it still served as an aching gash in your life.

Since that horrid night, you had delved head first into work to distract yourself as best as you could. It had been a privilege to be able to fill your time so you could ignore dealing with the issue at hand — a privilege you had taken for granted as your sobs filled the vacant space of your lonely office.

In less than two weeks, you would be forced to look him in the eyes again. You had to paint your face with a smile, smother your sorrows for the sake of the company as he was expected to stay at your side for the evening.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to pull this one ashore after all.

As promised, a fancy black car had pulled up exactly at the time you had texted him.

The entire car ride was spent in a one sided conversation, where the driver tried to initiate polite small talk only to be met with quiet sounds that barely confirmed Tobio was even listening.

He was too busy trying to plant his feet back on the ground, nerves traveling his body from head to toe. Every ten seconds he tilted his head to check his phone just in case you had sent him any further information about tonight that he needed to be aware of. He was left disappointed every time when there never appeared a notification with your name attached.

Sooner rather than later, flashing lights surrounded the car and he knew they had reached the destination.

This was a part of the job he had never gotten used to, and some part of him would probably always struggle with the attention that came with his career path.

Reluctantly stepping out of the car, he braced himself for the overwhelming noice of the press shouting to grab is attention.

It was only so much his PR training sufficed. He would wave awkwardly, try to smile and present himself as nicely as possible so his managers wouldn’t be on his neck about the bad impression he’d given off — but no amount of training was able to calm his nerves.

Only you did that.

Whenever he had to make public appearances, you were the one to help his feet back on the ground and remind him it wasn’t scary. You would lace your fingers with his, gently press your body against his side with such grace. And you would look at him, your eyes whispering quiet affirmations; you’re doing great, okay? I’m with you every step of the way.

Deprived of your safety, he was overthinking every move he did. Was it obvious how fake the small tilt of his lips were? Who was he kidding, they probably didn’t even see what was his attempt at a smile. Was the outfit okay? Had he picked out the wrong outfit, showing up underdressed to your special night? No, he had purposely chosen a safe option, one he knew you liked. Was his steps towards the entrance too slow? No wait, shit- now he was walking too fast.

He couldn’t be too sure he had been able to pull off the image his managers wanted, but he had at least gotten himself through the doors of the venue.

He had no time to react before he was approached by a neatly dressed individual with a clipboard in her hands. “Mr. Kageyama? Follow me.”

Croaking a quiet ‘okay’, Tobio didn’t know what else to do than do as she said, eventually ending up in a secluded, yet spacious hallway. There were only a few people scattered about, all seemingly rather busy.

Then his eyes landed on a familiar frame that he would recognise any time and any place, forever burned into his memory. Your bare back facing him, phone to your ear as frustration pulled your shoulders high.

Everything else seemed to disappear when he heard your voice, “no, no, it’s supposed to be four-“ you spun around, and the sentence died instantly once your eyes automatically locked with his.

He fell for the temptation, trying to be as subtle as possible as he let his eyes travel you up and down. You were breathtaking, all dolled up in a floor length, satin gown in deep maroon. There was a shy slit in your skirt, and your exposed arms were decorated with the prettiest jewlery.

But what had his breath catch in his throat was the familiar pendant resting right on the centre of your chest — the dainty necklace he recognised as his gift for you for your first anniversary.

“Mr. Kageyama, as requested,” the stranger said before hurrying away to attend other tasks.

“Just… I trust you’ll be able you fix it,” you spoke softly into the phone before hanging up, never breaking eye contact.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed the moment he had seen you again, “hey.”

“Hi,” you said weakly, your nerves driving you to pull at your own fingers. The action captured his eyes which instantly had you hide your hands behind your back. You knew all too well what was running through his mind at the moment, having a nearly primal desire to interrupt it.

One could cut the tension with a knife, thick and suffocating, with so many lingering feelings resting in the prolonged eye contact.

You reached within yourself, closing your eyes for a second to force away your uneasiness. Once they opened, and met his again, all evidence of previous sentiments were gone and replaced with business. Your shoulders lowered slightly, arms moving in front of you again and your entire stance straightening with a newfound sense of confidence.

“Great! You picked a good outfit,” was the nicest compliment you were able to pay him without completely succumbing to the sadness that was walking a fine line, ready to overtake you at any second. “It’s perfect for the evening.”

He tilted his head forward bashfully to hide the small smirk of amusement that formed at his lips because he knew you were being modest in your observations. It wasn’t unintentional that he’d put on the all black, three piece suit you had helped him purchase when he was first signed.

It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but he remembered how you had gladly joined him when he was in such a desperate need for a formal wear he could pull out on special occasions. He would never forget how your lips had parted and eyes widened when he came out in that suit, unable to peer your eyes off of him. He’d watched as you had actively swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding in approval, rather enthusiastically.

“Glad to hear it,” he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You look great, by the way. But that’s no surprise.”

For a split second your front wavered with a weak smile. You wouldn’t allow the fragility to settle — you could not afford that tonight, of all nights.

You spun on your heel, walking down the hall in the opposite direction. Tobio didn’t hesitate to follow.

“They’re opening the doors for the other guests very soon, and in roughly twenty minutes I have to go up on stage to welcome everyone. The auction will start shortly after that.” You stopped abruptly outside a huge door, nearly causing him to crash into you. Resting your hand on the handle, he watched how it clenched around the metal. “I’ll find you after. You’re technically still my da-… my plus one.”

Without sparing him another look, you simply opened the door and entered the ballroom, leaving the word ‘date’ hang unfinished in the air.

How had the two of you gotten to this point?

His future used to be so clear — he saw his entire life headed in a direction he had never dared to dream of, based on the fear of its unlikelihood. You brought safety and comfort to his life, which had grown somewhat turbulent after garnering some fame within the world of athletes — no matter how things turned out, it would be okay, because he still had you.

But now he had to control how he didn’t let his gaze linger for too long, because it could be crossing a boundary that previously didn’t exist. He had to hold his tongue so he didn’t bombard you with all the affection he still had for you, because that wasn’t his job anymore.

Slowly but surely, the ballroom started to fill up with an assortment of characters, all ready to spend their money on the extravagant auction. Tobio found himself standing awkwardly in the same spot you left him, along the outskirts of the growing crowd, feeling beyond uncomfortable.

And though he knew he should mingle, all he was able to do was let his eyes follow you when you eventually made your way onto the stage. The music came to a slow stop, the crowd calmed down and everyone’s eyes were on you.

To everyone else, you probably seemed in control of yourself, confident even — but Tobio was still able to read you like a book, rarely having seen you as nervous as right now. Your smile was bright, but very clearly forced as your eyes roamed the audience frantically.

Suddenly you looked at him, meeting his eyes that were always so soft — a feature that somehow always caught you a little by surprise. He was often so stoic, his eyebrows always just slightly tilted in a frown. But his eyes betrayed his cold exterior, conveying a tenderness you had never really seen in anyone else.

With the familiar safety of his gaze, your breathing evened out and shoulders relaxed, which he noticed. He flashed you a small smile before giving you a reassuring nod, telling you there was nothing to be scared of — because after everything, he would still catch you if you were to fall.

Exhaling deeply, you started the welcome speech, your smile now genuine. He followed every single word that fell from your lips with immense professionalism, and every once in a while when your eyes found him in order to ground yourself, his heart would skip a beat.

“Once again, thank you all for attending and I hope you all enjoy the evening.” The crowd erupted into polite applause while you walked down from the stage gracefully.

“You did great,” Tobio breathed as you had joined him again.

“Thank god,” you sighed. “That speech has kept me awake all week.”

“No, it was good. Very professional.” You turned to look at him, a beautiful smile painting your lips as old habits steered your hand for his face.

When you realised what you were about to do, your face fell, hand freezing inches before making contact with his cheek. In all the stress of being up on that stage with everyone’s eyes glued on you, you had forgotten the nerves caused by your ex boyfriend.

It had just come so naturally to you, to caress his cheek. It was a gesture you always did whenever he would come with one of his simple compliments.

“Sorry,” you whispered, quickly retracting your hand.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he stuttered sadly. Tobio had held his breath from the moment he’d noticed your hand raise from your side.

He had frozen still once he realised what was about to happen in hopes that if he didn’t move, you would continue in your trance and he’d eventually feel your flesh pressed against his face. He’d been deprived of the sensation for so long, and he was left disappointed when the feeling never arrived.

Was this how the evening was going to play out? Standing beside each other for hours in an awkward and unnatural silence, both too scared to do anything in fear of offending the other?

Tobio wanted to say something, but small talk had never been his strong suit — that was always your area of expertise, fill the void with chatter so no one was left feeling uncomfortable.

“You planning to bid on anything?” It was as if you had been able to read his mind, saving him from his ever spiralling mind.

“No, not really,” he said simply. “You?”

He turned to look at you, feeling a sense of relief as you let out a small snicker, observing how the auction was about to start.

“I may be in charge of this entire thing, but that doesn’t mean I have the money to get any of the things they’ve put up,” you sighed. “That trip to the Maldives looking really good right now, though.”

For a split second, Tobio heavily considered putting all his money on that trip for you. He imagined being able to walk beside you along the crystal blue shores of the Maldives, peace and relaxation washing over you to the point where you would finally have the time to take proper breaths.

But it was but a mere dream, only a reality in the depths of his mind where he was allowed to fantasise that you were still his.

For the next three hours, you stood side by side as you witnessed all the luxuries items being auctioned off one by one. Every once in a while you would shoot a casual comment in hopes it would lighten the looming cloud that hung over you — it remained persistent.

It didn’t go unnoticed, how the tension in your shoulders never completely evaporated. Even when your bosses came to shower you with praise for all the hard work you’d done, or when you were updated on the insane sum of money that would be donated, your shoulders remained permanently raised half an inch.

He could only suspect it was his presence that caused the strain. Maybe it had been a bad idea of him to attend.

In hindsight he could see how it was nothing short of selfish — because what other reason for attending would he have than only wanting to see you again? He didn’t serve any more purpose than decoration. His name wasn’t even among the most noticeable, so it wasn’t like he brought any more traction to the event than it already had.

Maybe it would be best if he just bolted, let you be able to enjoy what could be considered your evening. You should be proud, celebrate the success of your hard work.

As the auction had slowly evolved into a party, several pairs had decided to move along to the beautiful rhythm that filled the ballroom. Tobio would shoot shy glances towards you, spotting how you were staring longingly at the dance floor.

“You want to dance?”

“What?”

Shit — he hadn’t meant to blurt it out. He genuinely thought the question simply floated in his mind to entertain his fantasy. Seemed like his subconscious had more power than he thought when the words slipped past his lips.

And now you were stood ogling him in shock, arms wrapped around yourself as you were visibly trying to comprehend his question.

He cleared his throat, trying to find the confidence he used to have with you once upon a time. “Would you like to dance?” He asked again, voice steadier than he would have anticipated.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you considered his request. “Okay,” you whispered, his heart skipping a beat.

This was not the time to let his confidence waver, offering his elbow like a gentleman, holding his breath as he waited for you to hook your arm with his.

Stood in the middle of the dance floor facing each other, you tried to calm your rapid breathing as you waited for him to take the lead.

With slight hesitation you placed your right hand on his shoulder. And it seemed like he picked up on the reluctance in your movements, because his right hand grabbed a hold of yours to have it stretched out — reminding you how big they were compared to yours.

But when you felt his left hand make contact with your bare back, you couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath, igniting memories you had so sorely tried to forget.

In the dead of night, when it seemed like the two of you were the only people left in the world, he would place his lips tenderly along your back, pulling soft giggles from you as his breath tickled you when it brushed against your skin.

And now his warm hand was resting within the ghost of those kisses, reminding you not only of the private and intimate moments shared together, but also just how gentle he was with you.

To say Tobio was a little rough around the edges was an understatement. He could definitely be crass, tone bordering on cruel when talking to someone, despite having no ill intentions whatsoever. His face was nearly permanently stamped with a frown, seemingly always in a bad mood to the untrained eye.

The Tobio people saw on court was also ruthless. Always giving it his all, whether if it was his calculated sets or his powerful serves — he never showed his opponents mercy.

But the second a match was over, and he was reunited with you, all edge seemed to disappear. Same strong hands that had recently performed fiercely on the court, would now cup your face with utmost care while you shied away from prying eyes.

Same tender touch was pressed lovingly against your back in this very moment — and it felt so safe. The security he always supplied in his embrace came to show so easily. Taking care of you was second nature to him, even now after everything.

“Never known you to be a dancer,” you said carefully as he started to take the lead, moving surprisingly graciously along to the music.

“I’m full of surprises,” he dared to joke with the faintest smirk.

“Never known you to be a guy of surprises either,” you quipped, having his smirk stretch a little wider.

He turned to scan the other couples, leaving you to just admire him.

He really was beautiful, and he didn’t even seem to be the slightest bit aware of the fact. When going about his day, he never brought attention to himself so it was easy to forget — until it struck you like lightning from clear skies, suddenly and all at once.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight,” he breathed, shifting his attention back to your face. It caught you off guard, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, scared he caught you in your admiration.

“You really think so?”

“Definitely. I’m really impressed.” Again you had his heart skip a beat, when for the first time this evening, you flashed him a wide and genuine grin.

“Thank you.”

“Then again-“ he began, a little scared to continue when you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “You’ve always been impressive.”

Finally your stress released. Your shoulders lowered and you relaxed in his arms, a softness in your features he had been waiting to reunite with.

This was Tobio — the person you had shared countless conversations about all and nothing with, who knew you inside out. There wasn’t any reason for it to be uncomfortable. Why not make the best out of the situation?

“Volleyball’s going great, I hear,” you breathed, a newfound, though a little unsteady, contentment in your voice.

He nodded slowly, “yeah, you could say that,” a shameless smile of pride curling his lips upwards.

“Bet you can see the end of the road to being the best, now?”

“Staring to spot it,” he mused, acting a lot more humble than you were used to.

“Only Oikawa ahead of you now. Heard he’s still considered to be a remarkable setter-“

“Oh, shut up,” he said with a roll of the eyes, your words trailing into soft giggles.

“You know I’m just kidding. I’ve known you to be the best all along,” you said softly, slowly melting into his embrace more and more by the second.

And by the way he was looking at you right now, with a sense of safety that would always make you feel some sort of belonging, no matter what, you’d never be entirely lost when with Tobio.

It seemed like he felt it too. So many shared moments was coming back to him when being allowed to gaze into your eyes again, especially after all this time — he was scared he might end up spiralling if he let himself sink too deep in the familiar comfort of you.

You couldn’t help but flinch when he broke the eye contact, clearing his throat when he once again observed the surrounding crowd. “Do you think…”

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think they’ll write about this?” He scoffed, nodding in the direction of the not so subtle press who had very clearly been snapping pictures of you.

You shrugged. “I’m not worried,” you breathed, “we were never really public enough to be prolific, were we?”

The soft sound of your nervous chuckle drew his attention right back to you. He shouldn’t be too surprised that something as simple as the sound of your laugh and the twinkle in your eye could threaten to have him fall back in again — he knew he was weak. He felt it every day, with every beat of his heart, how it pulled at him to return to you.

You were dangerous that way, both to him and yourself. Your eyes would always betray you when they were staring at him, your devotion clear as day. It was always simmering just below the surface no matter how far apart you were.

“Besides, I mean, I am really just some nobody working behind the scenes in some big company. I’m no one really cares about-“

A frustrate groan shot past his teeth, spotting how his eyebrows narrowed in the angle he so often sported. “You’ve never been a nobody.” He drew a breath, a distinctly sharp one, his lips drawing in a thin line as he churned what words to say next. “You’re more than a nobody. You’re more than a somebody. You matter. You’re the only one who matters.” His voice was stern, but surprisingly calm — which only made it worse.

You couldn’t wrap your head around how he managed to serve such insanely deep and powerful declaration as it was nothing. It was like he had no idea what kind of weight his words carried, no regard for what impact it might have on you.

And there was a very simple explanation to that — because to him it was nothing. It was just the truth, which always came easy to him.

He noticed the inner corners of your eyebrows tighten, painting your face with sorrow as the corner of your lips drooped south.

“There were reasons, right? Reasons we broke up?” He asked carefully. As his volume lowered, he tilted his head forward, bringing him so painfully close.

Your sad eyes flittered between his, his crystal pools of blue that always enforced the intensity of his messages, and you began to think.

When you could feel his love still pulsating off of him, and his slightly calloused thumb sending sparks throughout your body as it subconsciously moved back and forth in soft swipes along your spine, it was hard to remember any one reason for why things ended at all.

“Yeah,” you sighed solemnly, nodding slowly, “yeah, I’m sure there was.”

The deep breath he took brushed against your face, and you had to swallow the little sob that harboured deep in your throat. “Do you miss it?”

You instantly knew what he really asked — did you miss him — the real meaning wasn’t hard to deduce, Tobio had always been horrible at hiding his real intentions.

“Sure, some days more than others,” your voice cracked slightly. It was only for a faint second, but it flashed across his face how it wasn’t necessarily the answer he wanted, a hint of anger threatening to scrunch his face. But it evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s not easy, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“You see right through me, huh?” It sounded as he was attempting to pull the mood up, but when there was no rise in his tone nor an optimistic twitch in his expression, he failed miserably.

“Well, still know you better than I know myself.”

Silence fell between you, still letting the safety of his arms guide you along to the symphonies that filled the ballroom. You were so close to falling in, completely surrender to the serenity you knew would come over you if you just gave in.

“You know, if there was something I did, I am really sor-“

“Can we pretend?” You cut him off. “Just for tonight, can we just forget everything and pretend?”

His lips parted in surprise. Your antsy nerves creeped back into your body when he slowly pulled back, certain he would turn the request down.

And he knew he should. In a matter of seconds, the healing you’d both gone through up until this point would be undone. But he wasn’t strong enough, especially after having been at war with that antagonising devil on his shoulder all night. With your request egging it on, he was going to let it win.

“Okay,” he whispered, straightening his posture.

With the blink of an eye, you had turned it all off. A smile adorned your lips before simply inching closer to rest your cheek against his chest, reunited with the sound of his heartbeat that you were so used to falling asleep too.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him rest his cheek on the crown of your head, his limbs squeezing you just a little tighter, as if it was somehow going to prevent you from slipping away when the evening came to a close.

You had expected it to pick up its pace, beat like a hummingbird — but it was steady.

Maybe his heart was finally beating steady, after stuttering in his chest for months, lost as it tried to find back to its purpose. And now it had been reunited with it, instantly recognising the euphoria and quickly settling into its supposed rhythm.

Bittersweet — that was how it felt. You were allowing yourself to completely bask in the comfort of Tobio. You hadn’t felt such contentment and rest since the split, and it felt nice to breathe calmly for once.

But he was still your ex, and it would come to an end eventually, again going your separate ways.

Those were sorrows for tomorrow.

You allowed yourself to dance with him, your tears quietly wetting the fabric of his jacket until the evening came to an end.

Looming in the shadow of the auctions success was a sight no one had expected to see.

She’s the cute face behind the whole event, having worked countless hours to pull it all together for it to turn out the way it did, and it’s safe to assume she is probably thrilled with the sum they were able to rake in for the sake of a good cause.

However, you’re probably reading her name and finding it awfully familiar — but you can’t seem to understand why; there’s no reason for you to know the name of some random employee at a big shot company. The name probably rings a bell because she is better known as the ex girlfriend of star player Kageyama Tobio, seemingly home in Japan for a visit. Was the reason for his unexpected return solely to attend the big evening of a special ex-someone?

During their time together, they rarely made headlines as they were notorious for keeping their relationship private. But once the handsome Ali Roma setter became available, people were quick to show their interest.

Though we were not lucky enough to be of attendance at the charity auction, we’ve gotten our hands on exclusive pictures from the night. Not only were they spotted together for the majority of the evening, these photos show they didn’t seem shy when sharing a rather intimate moment on the dance floor.

One can start to speculate if the corporate sweetheart has once again swooned the sought after Kageyama.

Fret not, because we got a rare statement from the woman of the hour, and she says : “I have nothing but respect and adoration for Kageyama, but-“

Tobio shut the magazine, unable to finish the article.

tags : @hiraethwa ﾉ @shouyuus (hope you dont mind i added you love)

an : dedicated to tobio nation <3 lets go with the angst, it is obvi what i love. idk if you guys picked it up, but to me it's sooooo clear where my writers block started to disappear lol comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[eccentricallygothic]

please i need a pedri fanfic where his gf gets horny in public and starts teasing him until he takes her somewhere private and fucks her

I love your stories theyre amazinggg

I am (was) on my period hence huge feelies so I added those to this because I am very tender on Pedri as it is. I also see him as a very dominant and caregiving person as well as lover so I hope you don't mind what I've made of your request and enjoy it <3

| Unusual |

Pairing: Bf!Pedri | Gf!You. 

Warning(s): Smut with plot, unprotected p-in-v, d/s undertones (it's literally Pedri), m!dom, f!sub, Daddy kink, suggestive exhibitionism, doggy style, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, creampie, marking, Pedri calling you vida because I am very fond of that idea, caring Pedri, he's also intimidating bc he's Pedri.

.

Pedri sighs as he arrests your impish wrist in his hand for the umpteenth time today and peels it off his thigh before carrying it back to your knee. 

"Vida…" Usually, a stern look is enough for you to mend your ways and start behaving yourself, but today seems to be the day where you decide to grow immunity towards his warnings.

And it usually never comes down to this tone of his because it hardly ever means anything ideal for you. 

But you just can't keep your hands to yourself today. 

You whine under your breath when he resumes his conversation with Gavi; one of his best mates, again. When you are still not paid the attention that you so desperately crave, you sigh and glance around the table at everyone present. 

It is a boring Saturday lunch that the two of you are having with some of your boyfriend's club mates and their girls. You are not to be taken the wrong way. These kinds of things are usually quite fun for you. 

The keyword is usually. 

Because the exception is days when your mind cannot think of anything other than your man's cock while your insides burn. 

The past week was a busy one for Pedri and you are a good girlfriend so you patiently waited, thinking he was gonna give you what you needed most on the night of the big game when he wouldn't have anything left to worry about for a while after. But he was so exhausted when he got home last night that you postponed the fulfillment of your need for the next morning. 

Except, you woke up to your love making breakfast and then informing you over it that the boys had invited you two for lunch. If that wasn't messy enough, he had had some errands to run before said lunch which further crushed any hopes of something quick as well. 

And now, here you are. 

Frustrated, on edge, excited beyond measure, moody, iffy and extremely noncompliant. 

Then, on top of it all, the food is taking forever and the conversations are way too mundane for you; a horny girl who was busy needily ogling at her boyfriend. 

It isn't your fault, really. He looks too fucking great to resist. You know a shave is probably coming and you love him either way but Pedri looks just so hot with the light stubble a few days of negligence has caused on his handsome face. Then his thick dark hair rests on his forehead in the most perfect way as his naturally stern eyes move along with his strong, manly hands each time he makes a gesture. And the way his lips move when he speaks… Your thighs clench at the memories of all the times they have been between them.  

You break against your forced resolve once more when he hums along to whatever Ferran is saying and leans in your direction to pour you a glass of water to drink because you can not track your hydration to save your own life. The sheer dominance in the way he does not break his conservation even once but places the Tumblr in front of you causes a wave of burning hot love to wash over you and then you just can't take it anymore. 

Where you had played with his fingers, snuggled into his arm, groped his thigh and then stroked his leg with your foot before, you think fuck all and 'drop' your napkin which just happens to fall between his feet. 

"Woopsie" of course, Pedri knows you are up to no good when you bend down to 'fetch' it and place your hand on his knee for support. You take your time with 'finding' said napkin and your hand shamelessly trails to his dick in the meantime, hurriedly taking a fat, mighty squeeze before your claw can be pried off its prey. 

Your boyfriend has realized by now to not expect anything innocent from you today because although you are the shy one between the two of you usually, your antics since the moment you took your seats have been of the naughty sort. 

Today is a very unusual day indeed. 

Pedri stills and stops mid sentence, his whole body stiffening as he realizes what is happening. Your party grows concerned over his sudden silence and his ears redden at the awareness of you not coming back up, instead choosing to remain 'searching' for your napkin while clinging your fingers to his now hard cock like your life depends on it. 

"Oh" but of course, the young man is much stronger than you and so your hand is easily manhandled into his. "I see" he pretends as though you have said something to him before standing up and facing your lunch companions. "She needs my help navigating the place for a restroom, we will be right back" the way he cares for you like one would a child is nothing weird for your close friends and family anymore. Pedri helps you out with the smallest of things and the most basic of tasks and that is just the dynamic the two of you share. 

However, there is nothing tender in the way he drags you behind him with a firm hold on your wrist. You whimper when you are taken to a deserted hallway and then pushed into some sort of a cctv-less maintenance room because unless Pedri wants whatever he is about to do to you playing on every other news channel by the evening's end, this would have to do for now. 

"Tsk, tsk, vida" you gulp as you blink repeatedly to get your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. The door slowly clicks shut behind you and you feel your shoulders jump at the sound due to how quiet it is otherwise. You want to turn around and face your lover, perhaps inquire why he's done what he has done but you're both too intimidated and excited to do so. 

Before you can decide what you want to do, his arms snake around your waist from behind to press your back into his chest as his lips brush against your ear. "What am I going to do with you, hm?" A shudder sets off in your bones as his hands begin to re-explore the bumps and crevices of your body. 

You instantly relax in his embrace and crane your neck backwards to lean your head against his shoulder. "I- I dunno…" The two of you move in a sync and his lips find the crook of your neck. "W- What are you going to do with me…?" Though you intend for your words to be one of fear and panic, what ends up dripping from them is pure excitement. 

Pedri groans before your body is pushed up against the many shelves that are mounted on the middle wall that you face. "I think a lesson in basic manners is a good place to start with" you try your best to feign consternation but the eager way in which you fold your arms over one of the shelves and spread your legs as your boyfriend raises the hem of your skirt from behind gives your intentions away. 

"Oh, no!" Yet you push on; so frustrated and needy at this point that any touch from him is good touch for you.

Pedri clicks his tongue before squeezing your panty clad cheeks. "I spoil you too much, don't I, vida?" You let out a soft sound that you subconsciously make when thinking but your boyfriend cuts off your thought process with a loud slap that catches both your cheeks at once. 

"Ow!" You found out just a few days into dating him that he was much stronger than you with how effortlessly he lifted heavy things and manhandled you when you got more comfortable around each other. So it always hurts like a bitch when he's in a reproachful mood. 

"Already?" He taunts you mockingly and lands another mean spank on your buzzing cheeks. "But vida," your eyes flutter close and you have to slither in a heavy gasp when he drapes himself over you from behind, one hand tracing its way up your side to palm one of your boobs, "I haven't even started with you yet." 

"Hnnng, please!" You push your ass backwards to try and turn him on. That is when you realize that he is rock hard already. 

Well, that explains the edge in his usually calm and collected tone. 

"Being a fussy little brat throughout breakfast" two slaps on each cheek. "Refusing to get out of the shower" you hadn't even realized that you had started 'bratting' out of your ire. You whine and bounce as he settles upon a rhythm. "Scrolling your silly little social media instead of getting ready for lunch" he suddenly yanks your panties off and despite the sting in your backside, you feel your needy hole clench before releasing a thick blob of pure hot arousal. "And then behaving like a perverted little maniac throughout–" the sound that the meeting of his unforgiving fingers with your nether lips -due to the gap that your squirming has caused between your thighs- creates is stunning enough to momentarily mum your boyfriend who is usually a composed know-it-all. 

"Hm~!" The sound is tugged out from deep within your vocal cords. Your knees tremble when you feel Pedri's prying fingers worm their way between your crack before he spreads your privates out. 

"Geez, vida" his breath is hot on your pucker and the snort he lets out when the sensation causes it to clench unconsciously makes blood rush to your face. "I know you're a horny little thing but fuck have you made a mess?" He can act as judgemental as he wants but you know that he loves every little drop of the need that he makes you feel. 

Which is all the time. 

You pout and instinctively push yourself closer to his face. "N- Need you… D- Daddy…" 

"Need me?" Your teeth trap your bottom lip between them when you feel one of his thumbs inch closer to your sopping cunt. "Where do you need me, baby?" 

You whine as your forehead creases. "Y- You know where!" 

He chuckles. "I don't think right now is the time when you push your luck, vida" your features push themselves upwards when you feel the tip of his thumb graze against the outline of your pussy lips. You let out an icy whimper in response so he adds; "Come on, if you tell me how you need me I'll give it to you" though he pretends as though he is unaffected by the sight he faces, you can hear the agitated urgency in his voice.

Your hips timidly try to move against his finger that refuses to give you anything beyond enticing yet unfulfilling strokes over your squishy petals. "I- I… n- need you i- in…" You hear clinking behind you but you are too busy in your desperation to find something pleasurable in the thumb that presses against you. "Inm- mypussy,Daddy" the questioning hum that he lets out rings in your ear when he is behind you within the next second and the way in which his cock jabs its way through your eager entrance at the same time causes for your eyes to bulge out. 

"What was that, baby?" Pedri has to clamp one of his palms over your mouth to keep you from moaning out loud. The sudden bustle that sounds right outside the wardrobe as if on cue causes him to quickly pull back and fuck into you harder as you clench to aid him. It is greedy and rushed; the both of you aware of how you are dangling by a thin thread but the franticness to devour one another so extreme in your bodies that you want to finish before you are caught. 

It is the only goal. 

"I couldn't quite catch that" the way he roughly whispers in your ear to avoid detection from the manager who is busy barking orders at the staff outside while wrapping a hand around your hair has you arching your back as you get fucked into the shelf. When you refuse to respond, he has to add with a mean fondling of your boobs; "Come on, vida. Now you know better than to disobey Daddy when he can very easily destroy you for it" your lust-drunk body springs up in alarm. 

The executions of his threats are always deadly and edging is not even the last thing that you want right now. 

"I…" His cock is too pleasurable inside you as he pushes in before pulling out its length through your tight entrance with each speeding thrust, its girth putting the most knee weakening strain on the band of your pussy as his bulging veins and coarse edges rub against your sensitive walls in a way that causes your head to spin. 

Your head is yanked back by your hair. His lips ghost over the skin of your temple that gets overwhelmed by his irregular breathing. "Go on, vida. You're doing so well taking my cock" his other hand parts from your boobs to reach for one of your knees before it is bent to be propped against one of the lower shelves. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shut to clench themselves at how far up you feel him, his thick tip colliding with your special spot as a result. "Say it for me." 

"I- I need you i- in my pussy, Daddy!" Your cry is rather loud but neither of you are in the mind to care about that anymore. Your hips tighten when the snapping of his hips escalates to full on pounding and the towels and little bottles placed on the shelves begin to rattle and tumble all over. "Always need you in my pussy, Daddy!" He rewards you with the dipping of his fingers between your thighs.

"Good girl" the digits easily find your squelching cunt and he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head to one side so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

The gliding of his fingers is too much for your desperately worked up and frustrated pussy to handle so when his hand uncurls from your hair to pinch one of your nipples while his teeth nibble on that one sensitive patch of your skin, you can't help but throw your head back to let out a gut wrenching moan. 

Your vision fills with neon colors and your hearing declines. The tension within your hips is pulled loose and heat surges through every single knot that has formed in your muscles over the week. Pedri's hot cum that fills you soon after is the perfect end and you finally feel in place after days. 

Sex has the opposite effect on the both of you; while it helps Pedri clear his head, yours gets fuzzy instead. So it is him who fixes you up when he decides that he is done with you for now. You meekly stand like a baby– his baby as he pats your disheveled hair down, adjusts your bra and mends your outfit to the best of his ability. 

"Look at the mess you have made, vida" you whine and snuggle into his chest so you can hide your flushed face when he points out the wreck that you two have made of the place. Pedri chuckles as he fishes out some compensatory money from his wallet and places the bills on one of the shelves before taking your hand in his and helping you walk back to the table as you happily waddle behind him, senses numb but relaxed. No one says anything or even acknowledges your long absence but they know.

The flaming red hickey on your neck is the evidence to their suspicions. 

.

[minhosbitterriver]

🌧️ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍-𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ( stray kids )

❛ On a rainy evening, a deepening connection unfolds between you and Hyunjin as you explore your newfound intimacy in the cozy sanctuary of your studio apartment. Amidst clumsy yet heartfelt moments, your bond blossoms into a magical dance of tenderness and desire, celebrated under the gentle rhythm of the falling rain.

𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 18 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested a little bit ago by my lovely 🌪️ Anon! I genuinely loved working on this purely for the awkwardness between Y/N and Hyunjin. I just feel like this is something that is not talked about enough, especially within the writing community. It's completely normal to be a bit clumsy and/or awkward the first time you have sex with someone — it doesn't mean that you or your partner is a virgin or is bad at it! Everyone's tastes when it comes to this is different so it might take a second to figure your partner out! And that's totally okay! Alright, anyway, requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, established relationship, it's first time Hyunjin fingers you, neither of you are virgins, it's awkward and a little clumsy at the beginning, very fluffy, please let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

It had been a Saturday to remember, one that etched itself into the tapestry of your memories, marked by the presence of Hyunjin. His charismatic charm had woven itself through your days for the past month, casting a spell of enchantment that lingered in the air. Though the span of time you had spent together might appear fleeting in the grand scheme of things, it felt as if you had experienced an entire lifetime’s worth of moments within those precious weeks.

Each shared glance carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words, creating a silent dialogue that only the two of you understood. Every burst of laughter echoed like a melody, resonating with joy and warmth that filled the spaces between you. The conversations you shared, whether deep and contemplative or light and whimsical, wove a rich tapestry of connection that seemed to transcend the mere passage of days.

It was as though time itself had bent and stretched to accommodate the depth of your interactions. The moments you spent together, whether walking hand in hand through sun-dappled streets or sharing quiet, emotionally intimate evenings under a canopy of stars, left you with the impression that you had journeyed through countless experiences together in just a short while. The intensity of your bond created a sense of timelessness, making each day feel like a chapter in a beautifully unfolding story.

The day dawned under the crisp, invigorating light of morning, painting the world in hues of possibility. Hyunjin stood eagerly by your front door, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and a smile that promised adventure. The air was charged with the excitement of a day uncharted, a journey waiting to unfold as you both boarded the train bound for the newly opened museum.

As the train carried you toward your destination, a sense of exhilaration grew, mingling with the rhythmic clatter of the tracks. The cityscape blurred past, a fleeting backdrop to the conversation and laughter that filled the space between you. Upon arrival, the museum revealed itself as a grand sanctuary of artistry and history, its towering facade inviting you into a world where time seemed to stand still.

Stepping inside, you were enveloped by the cool, hushed atmosphere of the museum, a place where every corner promised discovery. The labyrinthine halls stretched out before you, each exhibit unfolding like a new chapter in your shared journey. Vibrant paintings, intricate sculptures, and ancient artifacts beckoned you closer, igniting lively discussions and thoughtful reflections. With every step, you meandered through galleries side by side, your connection deepening as you shared insights and marvels.

The experience felt timeless, an effortless immersion into a realm of creativity and wonder. You lost yourselves in the stories etched into each piece, the artistry that transcended the mundane and spoke directly to your souls. The hours slipped by unnoticed, each moment adding a brushstroke to the canvas of your day, painting a picture of shared exploration and discovery. In that museum, amidst the echoes of history and the whispers of creativity, you found not only a deeper understanding of the world but also of each other.

After immersing yourselves in the museum's artistic treasures, you both boarded the train once more, the thrill of the day still crackling in the air between you. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks beneath you seemed to echo the excitement of the adventure that awaited. Your destination was your favorite restaurant, a cherished haven where comfort and familiarity wove seamlessly into the fabric of its ambiance.

Upon arrival, the restaurant greeted you with its warm, inviting glow. Soft light spilled from hanging fixtures, casting a gentle radiance over the rustic wooden tables and cushioned chairs. The scent of savory dishes wafted through the air, mingling with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread. As you settled into your seats, the meal became more than just sustenance; it transformed into a canvas for laughter and playful banter.

Each dish that arrived at your table seemed to serve as a catalyst for shared stories and inside jokes. The vibrant colors of the food mirrored the lively exchange between you, as conversations flowed effortlessly alongside bites of deliciously crafted dishes. The restaurant’s lively bustle provided a vibrant backdrop, its hum of chatter and clinking of cutlery blending into the symphony of your shared experience.

The meal, rich with flavor and affection, was more than a mere dining experience; it was an extension of the day's joy and companionship. With each course, you both found yourselves drawn closer, the savory dishes a tangible reflection of the deepening bond between you. As you enjoyed each bite, the connection you had forged earlier in the museum seemed to be solidified, the warmth of the food and the ambiance merging to create a perfect continuation of the day's adventures.

Adjacent to the restaurant stood a quaint psychic shop, its sign casting a gentle, ethereal glow that beckoned with an almost magnetic allure. The delicate, swirling script on the sign seemed to whisper promises of mysteries and hidden truths, igniting a spark of curiosity within both of you. Driven by a shared sense of adventure and intrigue, you decided to venture inside, stepping into a world that seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

The interior of the shop was a treasure trove of curiosities. Dimly lit by the soft flicker of candlelight, the space was adorned with richly embroidered tapestries and shelves brimming with intriguing artifacts. The air was tinged with the heady fragrance of incense, mingling with the faint aroma of old parchment and aromatic herbs. In the center of this enigmatic realm sat the psychic, her presence as compelling as the surroundings.

Her gaze was shrouded in an enigmatic aura as she performed the reading, her eyes glimmering with an inscrutable wisdom. As she declared with a knowing smile that you and Hyunjin were soulmates, her words seemed to reverberate with an almost palpable magic. The statement hung in the air like a delicate thread, weaving itself into the fabric of your shared experience.

The psychic’s cryptic smile was met with a blend of surprise and shyness on your faces. A soft blush crept across both your cheeks, accentuating the nervous laughter that bubbled up between you. Each of you cast furtive glances away, caught between a fluttering sense of embarrassment and an exhilarating hint of delight. The moment felt like a secret dance, a playful intimacy that hung between you, adding a layer of enchantment to the day. The encounter at the psychic shop became a cherished memory, a touch of magic that lingered like a sweet aftertaste, enriching the tapestry of your shared adventure.

As the evening unfurled, you both returned to the serene sanctuary of your cozy studio apartment. The tranquility of the space embraced you like a warm hug, with the soft, rhythmic purring of your cat—curled contentedly on the nightstand—embodying the essence of home’s simple pleasures. The room was gently illuminated by the soft, golden glow of the lamp, casting a soothing radiance that seemed to enhance the peaceful ambiance.

In this haven of calm, you set about preparing warm tea for both of you. The aroma of the brewing tea leaves mingled with the subtle scent of the evening, creating an olfactory embrace that complemented the warmth of the space. As you poured the steaming liquid into delicate cups, the gentle clinking of porcelain was a soft, melodious counterpoint to the quietude surrounding you.

The conversation that followed was a tender and intimate exchange, your voices barely rising above hushed whispers as you both savored the serene atmosphere of the moment. Each word shared was like a caress, adding to the richness of your connection. Cradling your tea cups in your hands, you both reveled in a profound sense of contentment, the day’s adventures seamlessly blending into the gentle comfort of your shared refuge.

The evening unfolded as a quiet yet significant culmination of laughter, connection, and deepening bonds. The day’s escapades, full of vivid experiences and cherished moments, seemed to melt into the soft, welcoming embrace of your studio. This tranquil conclusion transformed the day into a cherished memory, a treasured chapter that would linger tenderly in your hearts.

As the night wore on, the rain began to fall in a steady, soothing rhythm, each droplet creating a symphony of tranquility against the windows. The gentle patter of the rain became a serene backdrop to the evening's unfolding events, wrapping your world in a cocoon of calm. Within the comforting familiarity of your bedroom, the atmosphere was imbued with a sense of warmth and intimacy.

You extended an invitation to Hyunjin, offering him a place beside you on the bed, a gesture that had become second nature over the short time you’ve been together. Yet tonight carried a different energy, a palpable shift that neither of you could ignore—evident in the way Hyunjin’s heavy eyes followed your every move. The ambiance was charged with an emerging affection, an electric undercurrent that seemed to hum softly in the space between you.

Each fleeting glance you shared was laden with unspoken emotions, eyes conveying what words could not. The subtle brush of skin against skin felt like sparks igniting a fire, each touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your quiet conversations, spoken in hushed tones, wove a delicate tapestry of words and sentiments, each one deepening the connection you felt.

In the stillness of your home, every moment seemed to heighten the sense of anticipation. The rain's gentle cadence matched the rhythm of your hearts, beating in sync as if to the same unspoken melody. The space between you felt charged, a magnetic pull drawing you closer to a deeper intimacy that was steadily approaching, its arrival inevitable and eagerly awaited.

The night continued to unfold in this gentle yet intense dance of emotions, the rain outside acting as a serenade to your evolving bond while you prepared your bed for the night. Each moment spent together was a testament to the growing affection that had blossomed between you, transforming the ordinary into something exquisitely profound. In that cozy sanctuary, under the spell of the night and the rain, you both felt the irresistible pull toward a connection that promised to be as enduring as the rhythmic rain itself.

The tension between you both thickened as you handed him a t-shirt he had intentionally left behind during a previous visit. The fabric of the shirt, worn soft and familiar, passed from your hands to his with a weight that seemed to carry unspoken significance. As soon as he grasped the shirt, a spark of unspoken urgency ignited between you. His lips met yours with a fervor that had been quietly simmering throughout the day, an electric connection that surged with the intensity of all the emotions you had harbored.

The kiss was a profound mingling of longing and desire, a tangible culmination of the feelings that had been building in the quiet spaces between you. It was as if the very essence of the day’s shared moments converged in this single, impassioned exchange. 

Even amidst this deep connection, an endearing awkwardness lingered in the air. As you both clumsily undressed each other, your movements were hesitant and unpracticed, yet brimming with sincerity. Nervous laughter bubbled up between you, a symphony of shared amusement that softened the intensity of the moment. Your hands fumbled gently, each touch a mix of tender care and uncoordinated eagerness, creating a dance of intimacy that was both innocent and heartfelt.

Your gaze remained locked on his dazed eyes, the unspoken emotions between you speaking volumes. Every brush of your fingers, every accidental graze, was charged with a sense of wonder and discovery. The garments fell away piece by piece, leaving you both in only your underwear, vulnerable and exposed yet completely at ease in each other's presence.

The path to the bed was a journey marked by stumbles and shared glances. Each step was a testament to the raw and unrefined nature of your intimacy, a beautiful reminder of the genuine connection you were forging. The nervous energy between you added a layer of charm to the moment, making each interaction feel even more precious.

As you finally reached the bed, the clumsy yet heartfelt nature of your movements only served to deepen the bond you were creating. The tender moments of hesitation and the bursts of laughter wove together, forming a tapestry of intimacy that was uniquely your own. In the gentle embrace of the night, surrounded by the quiet rhythm of your shared breaths, you both discovered a profound sense of closeness that transcended the physical, creating a memory that would linger long after the night had ended.

This clumsy yet heartfelt interaction only added to the night's charm, weaving an intricate tapestry of shared experience. Every hesitant touch, each nervous laugh, became a delicate thread, binding you closer together. As he settled between your legs, the intimacy of the moment deepened, turning every interaction into a genuine and endearing part of your growing bond.

A breathy moan escapes your lips as Hyunjin's kisses trace a delicate path along your jaw, each touch igniting a spark of electricity. When he reaches the sensitive spot just below your ear, a shiver runs through you, heightening your senses. This reaction seemed to bolster his confidence, and with gentle yet assertive hands, he guided you to lay back on the bed.

As you sink into the soft embrace of the mattress, his mouth works its magic, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Each kiss, each caress is a jolt of pure electricity, making your heart race and your breath hitch. The intensity of his touch leaves you yearning for more, each moment an exquisite blend of anticipation and ecstasy.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, craving the warmth and intimacy of his presence. As he continues his descent, his mouth finds your hardened nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect symphony of pleasure that leaves you arching your back, pressing yourself against him.

In this intimate dance, every movement feels deliberate and profound, each touch a testament to the deep connection you share. The room around you fades into obscurity, leaving only the two of you in a world of your own creation, where time stands still and nothing exists except the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies entwined.

His kisses, like whispers of fire, trail across your skin, igniting every nerve ending with a burning desire. The magic of his mouth, the gentle yet insistent way he explores your body, leaves you trembling with need. Every breathy moan, every gasp of pleasure, becomes a part of this beautiful symphony, resonating in the quiet sanctuary of your shared space.

Your hands find the courage to wander, fingers trembling with anticipation as they begin their exploration. Every touch is an act of reverence, a slow and deliberate journey to memorize the curves and contours of his lean body. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you.

As your hands glide over his torso, you savor the feeling of his defined muscles, each movement a tactile symphony. Your fingertips dance over his chest, tracing the lines of his pecs before drifting down to his abs. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch is mesmerizing, drawing you deeper into the intimate connection you share.

When your hands finally reach his abs, you slow your pace, allowing yourself to fully appreciate the sculpted firmness beneath your palms. The tension in his muscles, the way they contract and relax with each breath, is a testament to his strength and beauty. Your touch becomes more deliberate, a silent communication of desire and admiration.

As you move lower, your fingers find his hardened core, and a breathy groan escapes his lips. The sound is intoxicating, a blend of need and pleasure that fuels your own arousal. He pushes his hips into your hand eagerly, a wordless plea for more, and you can't help but chuckle lightly at his neediness. There's something incredibly endearing about the way he responds to your touch, a vulnerability that makes him even more irresistible.

His groan resonates in the quiet room, mingling with the rhythm of your shared breaths. The intensity of his reaction sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of power and tenderness. As your hand continues to caress him, you revel in the connection between you, the unspoken language of touch and desire that binds you together.

The moment stretches into eternity, every touch, every sound, deepening the bond you share. The intimacy of your exploration, the way your hands map the landscape of his body, becomes a testament to the growing love between you. In this private sanctuary, you find a profound sense of fulfillment, a beautiful merging of souls that transcends the physical and touches the very essence of your being.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been waiting for so long to have this moment with you,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice a soft whisper against the backdrop of your shared breath. His words hang in the air, delicate and poignant, carrying the weight of anticipation and longing. You can see the depth of his emotions reflected in his eyes, a swirling sea of vulnerability and desire that makes your heart ache with a tender ache. The sincerity in his voice, the quiet urgency, speaks volumes about the unspoken yearning that has built up between you.

His words touched you deeply, a wave of emotion washing over you as you absorbed the sincerity in his voice. With a soft, reassuring smile, your hands left his already leaking length, the warmth of his arousal lingering on your fingertips. You reached up, fingers threading through his long, silken hair, feeling its softness and reveling in the intimacy of the gesture.

"Don’t ever apologize, Hyune," you whispered, your voice filled with affection and reassurance. "You’re being wonderful."

Your fingers continued their gentle journey through his hair, each stroke a tender caress that seemed to convey all the emotions you felt. His hair, smooth and luxurious, slipped through your fingers like strands of midnight silk, and you marveled at the way it framed his face, accentuating the depth of his eyes and the curve of his lips.

The two of you lingered in a realm of shared kisses, each one deepening the connection that pulsed between you. What began as gentle explorations quickly evolved into a deliciously messy entanglement of lips and tongues, leaving both of you breathless. Droplets of shared saliva glistened on your mouths, a testament to the fervor with which you embraced each other. Every time your needy cores met, grinding against the thin barrier of fabric that still separated you, a gasp escaped your lips, mingling with his in a symphony of desire.

The friction, though clothed, was a tantalizing prelude to the ecstasy that awaited, a mere glimpse of the pleasure that loomed on the horizon. Each grind, each press of your bodies, sent waves of adrenaline coursing through your veins at an intoxicating speed. It was an addictive rush, leaving you craving more—more of him, more of the sensations that set your skin aflame and made your heart race.

Time seemed to blur, the minutes stretching into an eternity of heated kisses and desperate touches. Your hands roamed freely, memorizing the contours of his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, and committing every inch of him to memory. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared passion—breathy moans, whispered names, and the rhythmic beat of two hearts caught in the throes of desire.

It wasn't long before the intensity of your need became almost unbearable. A soft, desperate whine escaped your lips, a sound that conveyed your longing and frustration. You could feel the slickness between your thighs, a testament to how thoroughly he had aroused you. Your body ached with a deep, insistent need, practically begging him for more.

"Please," you whispered, your voice a soft plea as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your desire, and you looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes.

Hyunjin's gaze darkened with a mixture of lust and affection, his breath hitching at the sight of you so vulnerable, so open. He leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands moving to cup your face with a tenderness that made your heart swell. The kiss was both a promise and a reassurance, a silent vow that he would give you everything you craved.

As he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine. "Anything for you," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that resonated deep within your core.

With a slow, deliberate motion, his hands slid down your body, his touch igniting a trail of fire along your skin. The anticipation built with every second, your senses heightened to a fever pitch. Each brush of his fingers, each lingering touch, was a tantalizing prelude to the ecstasy that awaited. You arched into his touch, your body responding instinctively to the promise of pleasure.

His fingers danced tantalizingly close to your drenched core, skimming over the slick heat but avoiding the sensitive places where you needed him most. The tease was exquisite yet maddening, each near-touch sending shivers of both pleasure and frustration through your body. You could feel the dampness of sweat on your skin, mingling with the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

Mildly frustrated, a soft whimper escaped your lips as you reached down between your intertwined bodies. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding his hand to where you craved his touch. The movement was driven by a mix of urgency and desperation, a silent plea for him to end the sweet torture.

He chuckled lightly at your eagerness, the sound a blend of amusement and affection that reverberated through your chest. The gentle tease in his voice only heightened your desire, making you acutely aware of how much you wanted—needed—him. Despite his amusement, he didn't leave you waiting for long.

His thumb found your clit, the touch electric and precise, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. A gasp left your lips, the sensation intense and immediate. Without warning, his index finger slipped inside you, filling you completely. The sudden intrusion made you yelp in surprise, your body arching into his touch as a wave of heat surged through you.

He quickly glanced up, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and passion. The thrusts into your core halted, yet he kept his fingers buried deep inside, the sensation still pulsing through you. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice a husky whisper that mingled with the heavy breaths filling the room.

You licked your lips, a slow and deliberate motion, trying to gather your composure amidst the swirling intensity. Your chest rose and fell with each pant, the air thick with anticipation and desire. You nodded, the movement gentle but assured, your body trembling slightly as you held back the urge to grind into his hand. "Yes... just please go slow when you're down there," you whispered, your voice tinged with a blend of need and vulnerability.

His eyes softened at your words, a tender smile curling at the corners of his lips. The connection between you felt almost palpable, a silent understanding that spoke volumes. He nodded in response, his fingers beginning to move once more, but this time with a deliberate slowness that made every touch more intense.

Each movement was a study in restraint, his fingers exploring you with a gentleness that contrasted with the earlier urgency. The deliberate pace allowed you to savor every sensation, the pleasure building in slow, delicious waves. Your body responded instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as you felt him delve deeper.

He watched you closely, his gaze unwavering, the concern in his eyes gradually giving way to a renewed desire. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you both, a cocoon of shared trust and passion. His other hand found its way to your hip, holding you steady as he continued his slow, measured rhythm.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the earlier frenzy giving way to a tender, almost reverent exploration. Your breaths synchronize, each inhale and exhale a testament to the deep connection that had formed between you. His fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot that sent shivers down your spine, drawing out gasps and sighs of pleasure.

As he moved, his thumb brushed against your clit with a featherlight touch, sending sparks of electricity through your entire being. The slow pace allowed the pleasure to build gradually, each wave cresting higher than the last. Your hands reached out, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the sensations.

He responded to your touch, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and intense. The world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, every sensation magnified in the cocoon of intimacy you had created. The taste of him, the feel of his fingers, the sound of your mingled breaths—it all wove together into a symphony of pleasure.

You could feel the tension building within you once more, a slow burn that promised an explosive release. The deliberate pace made every touch, every caress, more poignant, the anticipation heightening your arousal. Your body arched into his touch, a silent plea for more, for everything he could give.

His fingers moved with a steady, unerring rhythm, guiding you towards the edge with a skill that made your heart race. The slow, deliberate thrusts were interspersed with gentle caresses, the combination driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Your moans grew louder, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

And then, with a final, deliberate thrust, the tension within you snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in a tidal wave, your body trembling as the orgasm tore through you. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the small space, your vision blurring as the world dissolved into pure sensation.

He held you through it all, his fingers still moving gently, prolonging the waves of pleasure. The aftershocks rippled through you, leaving you breathless and sated. As the intensity faded, you clung to him, your body still humming with the remnants of ecstasy.

In the aftermath, the room was filled with a quiet, almost sacred, stillness. You looked up at him, your heart full of gratitude and love, knowing that this moment was one of many that you would cherish. The night was a tapestry of shared passion and deep connection, a journey that had only just begun.

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[loafgeto]

A BROTHEL…! BUT WITH MEN?

fushiguro toji x fem!reader

synopsis: you and your friends enter a brothel that has men, instead of women. thus, allows you to encounter toji. and of course, he’s just working and you’re just a client— so there’s nothing else involved, right?

contents: 18+ mdni, explicit language, fem!reader, she/her pronouns. NSFW, cunninglus, teasing, dirty talk, semi-overstimulation, begging, markings/hickeys, protected sex → unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, orgasms, size kink/difference, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, cockwarming, pet names. not proofread!

word count: 5k

notes: been thinking abt this lately with toji... might make a gojo one like this idk tho (before you progress in the story just know that i enjoy including the second round of fucking lol...)

your friends heard something interesting a few days ago. they were discussing it while meeting up for a hang out. you were the last to arrive, but your friends were chatting away about some topic you wouldn’t necessarily be interested in— at least not at the moment.

when you inquired and slip into the conversation about what they were discussing about, your friends appeared to hesitate and didn’t respond at first. but your curiosity lingered and you begged them to tell you. therefore— apparently, there was a unique and secret business somewhere in the city.

it was a legal brothel home, posing as a regular club building to the public. if you wanted to go to the brothel, you’d have to see the clerk by the golden elevator. but instead of the brothel having women employees— it was men instead. and your friends were considering on going, but they weren’t certain to invite you since you had just broken up with your boyfriend.

“what? that was like a month ago, c’mon guys. i can go,” you reassured your friends with a smile. sure, the break up still recalls to your mind and pains your healing heart, but you wanted to get over it and the relationship. so of course you’d need to do something thrilling and adventurous that would occupy your mind.

“okay, if [name] wants to then we should let her join us! who knows, she might meet a better hunk there,” one of your friends reply, giggling which makes the others agree.

“what? you know those dudes there are just working and not looking for any relationship,” you furrow your brows slightly, and sigh.

“oh, don’t give us that look, [name]! we were just joking,” one of your other friends intervened with a grin. you proceed not to say anything else as your friends further conversed about their excitement and expectations when they’re at the brothel.

“i hope the guys are hot.”

“i hope i fuck someone hot.”

they all giggled and fawned over the thought of having sex with someone handsome, or whatever. you just disassociated at that moment, not necessarily listening to the rest of the conversation.

later, your friends settled a saturday night to go to this brothel, which was in two days. you found yourself anticipating the consequences of your decisions for the remaining two days, and contemplated whether or not to actually go. well, you didn’t want to disappoint your friends after already claiming you’d go, so you decided to look forward to it.

when saturday night arrives, your friends picked you up and you all headed towards the brothel. it was a decent walk and a lot of people were attending the club. from what you could tell, most of the guests didn’t know that a brothel existed underneath the club. when you and your friends entered the loud room, you all headed towards the golden door tucked in the far back corner. it didn’t necessarily receive much attention, as there was a sign that wrote vip only.

your friends gave the clerk by the elevator an access code, in order for all of you to get in and moments later, another employee assists the group. “come this way, please,” the man gently gestures you all, and after exchanging glances he speaks again. “the golden elevator isn’t the main door that leads you where you want to be, so please come.”

you all trail after the man as he leads you down a quieter hall. large ancient paintings of animals and folklore creatures were hanged up with pure golden frames, easily giving your friends the creeps and caused them to huddle close together.

“i’m assuming this is the first time you’ve all been here?” the man inquires, still keeping his smile as he presses a button to another elevator. you all nod, and he chuckles. “i see, i hope you all have wonderful experiences. you all will be going to another floor where you can meet the men. and if you can’t select someone, then the host will attend you.”

the information seemed to enlighten your friends as they began smiling, giggling, and whispering bullshit that you didn’t necessarily hear when entering the elevator. the elevator brought you girls down two floors, and when the door opens— you all step into the premises of another floor where the tension is more intense and intimate.

there was music, neon party lights, and a limited amount of people. most men were occupied with their clients, while some were sitting and waiting for whoever to approach them. this brothel wasn’t typically like any other— it even appeared like a normal club. as you observed the area, it surprised you to see how many men were actually working in this place.

all of your friends ended up splitting from you and each other, leaving you alone to do whatever you desired. you sat by the bar, occasionally glancing at the men with their lady clients and wondered who to approach. however, you quickly became timid and ordered a drink. for all you know, it was going to be one hell of a night.

when searching for your friends, you could already see them all with someone— laughing and talking. you decided to get and walk around again- and maybe, you’ll meet someone approachable.

the area was decently large, filled with many secluded tables surrounding the large dance floor. you detected the unique decorations and designs of the interior, reminding you of those wicked businesses in those television shows. you were about to lap around the entire area again, when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

catching you off guard, you immediately whip your head around to see a man around your height. he was chubby and reeked a strong smell of alcohol and cheap cologne. you tried not express rudely, since you’re a client who didn’t want to get kicked out, and gently moved away from the man’s touch.

“sorry, can i help you?” you question with an awkward grin.

“no, no, sweetheart. i’ve just been looking at ya for a while now..” the man responds, a burp following after. “ya lonely? need someone? c’mon, we can go for a couple more drinks, yeah? get to know each other better and then we can go into one of the rooms..”

“s-sorry, sir. i’m not interested,” you hoped the decline was polite enough, and you slightly stepped away from the man. “in fact, i’m with someone..”

“aww, are you shy, my dear? i know you aren’t with anyone,” the man chuckles as he traces your steps, approaching closer to you. he grabs your forearm, tugging you towards him. “come on, it’ll be super, super fun.”

you were about to slap the man across the face when another hand presses against the man’s shoulder, earning both of your attentions. behind of the man was another— taller, muscular, and handsomer man with a scar on his mouth. his countenance was so powerful, yet intriguing and it destroyed the shorter man’s confidence.

“are you drunk again?” the taller man questions, his low and raspy tone making your knees weak as he pulls the other man away from you. he gives you a quick glance before returning to the other man. “ya know, you shouldn’t be approaching clients like that if you don’t want the business to fail. boss wouldn’t like that, would he now?”

“t-toji?! y-you shithead.. i’m not doing anything bad- and don’t meddle into other’s situations!” the short man spouts, face burning with embarrassment as he pushes toji’s hand off his shoulder.

“well it is my business since she’s my client,” toji tilts his head and crosses his arms, maintaining his cool and calm demeanor. “so, you gonna leave or what?”

“y-you..” the man is unable to say anything else, and without looking at you, he quickly walks past toji and pushes through other people walking behind, disappearing into the crowd.

you sigh out of relief, feeling your heart race faster than usual. you raise your head, meeting gazes with toji who was clearly unbothered. “thank you.. for that,” you nod your head, but toji just shrugs.

“it was nothing, princess,” toji raises an arm and gently rubs the side of his head with his palm. “you’re a client and you have the right to tell him to back off. don’t just be standing there helpless, cause no one else is gonna help ya.”

“but you did,” you reply, furrowing your brows.

“right, of course, i did. what i mean is— no one else is gonna help you but me,” a little smirk appears on toji’s lips as he steps closer to you, his build towering over yours. “you still need help, pretty girl?”

“n-no.. i’m.. fine,” you stammer, shaking your head and dart your eyes in different directions as you feel your face burn.

toji lowers his eyes to examine your flustered expression, and he chuckles, admiring how cute your face looks. he opened his mouth and was about to reply, when another girl’s voice grabbed his attention.

“tojiii!” a woman running behind of toji calls out to him and she instantly wraps her arms around his waist. you blink several times, watching the interaction and remaining silent. “i’ve been looking alll over for youu~”

toji turns his head and down at the woman, smiling and gently putting his hands over hers. “sorry, just got caught up in something. you having fun?”

“noooo. without you it’s just so, so boring. c’mon toji~ let’s go back to the table~” the girl whines and pouts, tugging toji closer to her breasts that were pushed against his back. and she finally notices you from the corner of her eyes. “oh, who’s this?”

toji gives you a look, before turning back to the woman again. “just another client. go back to the table, i’ll meet you there,” toji says, fully turning his body to face her.

her pout grows larger as she gives toji her pleading eyes. “no, toji, you gotta come with meee~ and i’ll always be your favorite right, toji? hmmmm?”

“of course, of course. now go back first, i gotta help this client, y’know it’s my job to do that,” toji pats the girl’s shoulder, trying to gently push her away from him. “then after that, i’m all yours, ‘kay?”

“it’s fine! i don’t need any help,” you blurt out, earning the attention of the two. the tension became sensitive, and you could feel the flustered emotions returning to you. toji tilts his head, gazing at you as if you just said something you shouldn’t have. “thank you for helping me though, i’ll be going now.”

without giving toji or the woman another glance, you turn around and walk straight back towards the bar. you could feel a knot form in your stomach as you push yourself up on an empty chair, waving a hand at the bartender to make you another cocktail. you press your arm against the cold feeling of the bar’s countertop, now regretting your choice of coming here.

you couldn’t approach any man at all, and even if you wanted to, they were already with a client. you were pretty much going to spend the rest of the night at the bar, drinking constantly until you couldn’t and eventually go home without informing your friends who probably didn’t even care at that moment. two of them were already heading towards one of the rooms, while the others— well, you didn’t know.

your mind endlessly thought about the imagination of toji sitting next to you and talking to you before inviting you into one of the rooms. that man had caught your attention. however, he seemed quite popular and probably had many clients tracing after him like a golden prize.

maybe i should just leave, you thought when finishing your fifth cup of alcohol. thankfully, you were a strong drinker, so you could smoothly leave without any complications. you took out your phone, turning on the device and opening the messages app to text in the group chat that you’d be leaving. to you, there was necessarily no point in staying here.

as you were about to get off the chair, you heard someone pull the seat next to you. turning your head, your eyes fall upon toji’s large figure. his dark eyes were already on you and a faint smirk appears on his lips as you bring your thighs closer together.

“leaving so soon?” toji questions.

“l-leaving? i’m not.. leaving,” the lie slips off your tongue, and you had no clue why you had done so. toji’s demeanor was so alluring and his approach made your heart flutter a bit. the man was gorgeous, even with his scar— he’s definitely someone you would have approached if you saw him sooner.

“didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but i saw you text your friends that you were leaving,” toji smiles, leaning his head to the side. “i’m guessing you haven’t approached anyone yet, huh?”

“no..” you shake your head, swallowing the nervousness you had aching in your throat. you turn your head slightly, detecting the girl toji was with earlier— it seems like she was searching for him again. “um.. what about the girl earlier?”

“oh, her?” toji hums, eyes wandering to the same direction before returning back to you. “you don’t gotta worry about her, princess. she should be the least of yours worries.”

“but she’s—“

“hey,” toji gently grabs your chin, turning your attention back onto him. “i said don’t worry about her, or anyone at all. just worry about me only, i’m keeping you company.”

your body seemed to make the decisions for you and you nodded your head, eyes never leaving toji’s as he returns his hand to his side. toji orders a drink for himself, noticing how much cups you’ve already gotten yourself.

“so, what brought you here?” toji questions, drumming his fingers against the bar’s countertop. he couldn’t help but observe your attire— the way your dress hugged your body and shifted near your hips, almost revealing your panties underneath. “i’m sure a pretty girl like you would have a boyfriend, no?”

“oh.. no. i broke up with my boyfriend a while ago,” you reply, shifting your eyes slightly away as you notice him constantly checking you out. not that you were uncomfortable, rather becoming timid. sure, you’d imagine talking to him like this— but now that it was actually happening, you didn’t necessarily know how to act. “what makes you want to work here?”

“huh, dunno. for fun, i guess,” toji shrugs as the bartender passed toji’s drink to him. he lifts the cup in his hands, gaze still on you. “you here for fun too, eh?”

“well, i’m here with my friends—“ you pause and shake your head as toji takes a long sip of his drink beverage. “well, i was with them. i’m pretty sure they’re all invited to the rooms by now.”

“that so?” toji smiles, finishing his drink before leaning closer to you. his face was nearly inches away from yours, and you couldn’t help but stare down at his lips and back up into his eyes. “what’s your name, by the way, princess?”

“[name]…”

“cute name for a cute girl. i’m toji, but i’m pretty sure you already know that,” he chuckles, still leaning close to your face. “hm.. how about i take you to one of the rooms?”

it took you a while, but now you’re in a private room with toji. as your lips moved against each other’s, his large hands groped your ass and he grinds his hips against yours. you can feel his hard aching dick underneath his pants, pressing against your lower belly and you moan against his lips because of the sensation.

“lay down, princess,” toji instructs as your leg hits the frame of the bed. you follow his directions, pushing your lips away from his and laid down on the mattress. toji initially observes your expression, seeing how needy you’ve already become for him. just imagining how wet you were was making his dick even harder. “wanna spread your legs for me, pretty?”

you didn’t hesitate to follow his request, spreading your wobbling legs apart which pushes your dress upwards to reveal your soaked panties. toji smiles and kneels in front of you, eyes staring at the drenched area. he presses a finger against your clothed pussy, getting a small whine out of your mouth.

“t-toji..”

“you know, ever since you came in here, i’ve been wanting to approach ya,” toji starts, hoisting both of your legs over his shoulder and he grips the fat of your thighs, pushing your hips closer to his face. he presses a soft kiss on your inner thigh, eyes looking into yours. “i wondered why such a pretty girl like you was here.”

toji continues to press kisses on your inner thigh, swirling his tongue around certain areas before gently biting on the skin. quiet moans fall from your lips as your hands grip the sheets of the mattress and your pussy quivered each moment his lips neared your wet area. toji leaves several marks on your thighs before pressing the tip of his tongue against your clothed clit.

“mm- fuck…” your head falls back as his tongue rubs against your sensitive clit, and toji chuckles before kissing your thighs again. “that already made you moan like that? shit, can’t wait to hear how you sound like when i use my tongue.”

toji lifts his head, opening his mouth to bite against the fabric of your panties and you watch as he lowers them down and off of you. he tosses the garment somewhere on the floor, eyes locked on your glistening cunt. “such a pretty pussy i have here, eh?” he compliments, thumbing your clit.

“fuck… i-i need your tongue in me now, toji..” you squirm as toji makes slow, sensual circles against your clit with his thumb.

“i hear you, princess," toji grins as he lowers his face to your pelvic area. he glides his wet tongue up and down your folds, before slightly pushing it into your needy hole. you gasp, feeling his tongue beginning to passionately fuck your pussy.

"t-that feels s'good, toji-" you moan, a hand going to grasp his hair. toji's smile became wider as he moves to pleasure your clit, swirling his tongue around and gently sucking on your sensitive sweet spot.

you had never felt such satisfaction before, even when you were with your previous boyfriend. hearing your soft moans made toji eager to fuck you at that moment, he was so desperate to know how your cunt would feel around him. but he's patient, wanting to create a more erotic atmosphere. toji's never met someone who could make him feel like this, after all, he's just working.

toji rolls his tongue against your wet folds, licking and savoring your arousal dripping out. then he returns to gently suck and kitten lick on your clit, grunting lowly at the feeling of your hand roaming and softly gripping his hair.

you start grinding your hips a little to match the sync of his tongue eating you out, making toji smirk. "so needy, aren't ya, princess?" toji chuckles, spitting his saliva on your pussy before returning his tongue back to spread the liquid over the area.

"mhm- needy- just for you, toji-" you moan as your body trembles, head nearly falling back against the mattress. toji flicks his tongue faster against your pussy, noticing that you were gradually reaching your orgasm and he circles his thumb on your clit to assist you closer to your climax.

your heart and breathing rate increases as your hips jerk slightly forward, your pussy ejaculating more of your arousal fluids that toji just couldn't get enough of. your body receives a great sensation of satisfaction and toji pulls his face away, his smug grin returning to his lips.

“you ready for my cock, princess?” toji questions as he stands up, unzipping his pants and lowering his boxers to free his throbbing hard cock leaking with pre-cum. your cute, soft eyes seemed to shine upon seeing his dick, causing toji to snicker. you nod your head indicating your approval and toji grabs out a condom packet from his pocket.

toji opens the condom pack with his teeth, slipping the thin protection on his cock after pumping it several times with his other hand. he wets the condom with your arousal before positioning himself properly between your thighs. you watch the entire thing, lips slightly trembling at the sight of his thick cock pressing against the entrance of your swollen pussy.

he starts by teasing your pussy with his tip and pushing your legs farther apart. you squirm, eyes begging for him to push his cock in. “p-please, toji~” you whine, making the man’s smile curve wider. toji quickly slips off his shirt, exposing his scarred but well-built body. “this pussy really wants it, huh?” he replies, figuring he’d take off your other clothes later and instantly shoves his cock past your folds and into your aching hole.

“n-ngh! fuck!” you cry out, eyes nearly rolling back as toji starts thrusting his hips. you swore you just came, but you couldn’t even tell as you were lust struck by toji’s cock. “shittt, princess— you’re clenching me so fucking tight,” toji groans, his cock twitching at the feeling of your sensitive walls sucking him in.

toji pushes your legs towards you with his hands, lowering his body over yours to quicken his thrusts. he grunts, fingers nudging into the skin of your thighs. your pussy felt so damn good around him, he was loving it and making him imagine how it’d feel like to fuck you without the condom. toji’s slept with other women before, several of the same ones a couple times, but they never gave him the same feeling you did. for some reason, it’s different with you and toji was certain that if you kept coming here, he’d fuck you and only you.

“you’re adjusting so well to me already.. agh, shit,” toji moans, pumping his cock deep into your pussy— like he was craving so much more of it. “mm- toji! p-please kiss me~” you moan out, squeezing your walls tightly around him as toji guides your legs to wrap around his waist.

toji lowers his face, pressing his lips against yours and forcefully pushes his tongue into your mouth. you both share a sloppy kiss, your tongues moving in a lustful desire as your hands travel to claw the skin of toji’s back as he pounds into you from the position.

“toji- ngh- yes, fuck me harder!” you beg when pulling away from the kiss, tugging his body close to yours. toji groans, feeling his balls become more sensitive from your indecent demand and thrusts quicker, rougher like you wanted. “s-shit. your pussy treats me so well, baby— like it’s just f’me,” toji grunts, realizing he was reaching his climax next.

“i’m about to cum- shit-“ toji huffs, smiling from the feeling of your pussy pulsating around him when he claimed he was about to cum. he pushes his body away, throwing your legs over his shoulders and gripping his arms around your thighs before roughly plunging his cock into your pussy. “fuckfuckfuck, i’m gonna cum too- toji-“ you cry out, eyes shutting as small tears stream down the side of your face.

“rub your clit, princess. show me how you touch your clit when i'm fucking you like this," toji demands as you push your hips up. you whine and without hesitating to his request, you lower a hand down to rub circles against like your clit, allowing you to reach your second orgasm. "that's good. such a good girl," he praises next with a groan following.

as you came over his cock, you could feel toji's warm cum through the condom when he stops thrusting. his large body hovers over yours and you both gasp heavily for air. your eyes seemed to stare at the ceiling for a very long time, but your attention is drawn away when toji slips his cock out your pussy and takes off the condom. he tosses the used condom to the trash can nearby and cleans himself up, and you notice that he was still quite hard.

"toji.." you call out, earning his gaze. you had pushed your dress off of you, leaving you in your laced bra. his eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't make a move as you unclipped your bra and threw it somewhere, revealing your breasts. "let's go for another round.. please.." you implore, getting on all fours in front of him.

toji's dick pulsates at the sight of your actions, and he couldn't reject you at all, not when you're looking and pleading for him like this. he nods, about to grab another condom when you stop him. initially, he's confused by your gesture and watches as you turn your entire body around, your ass facing his hard cock. "n-no condom.." you utter, exposing your still wet cunt to him.

"are you on the pill?" toji questions first, but you shake your head. he sighs, "you know that-"

"i-i know.. and it's okay.. so pleasee, toji," you beg again with a small whimper. toji reminds himself that you're still his client and apart of his job was to follow client's request no matter the circumstances. however, even if you weren’t his client… toji grabs the side of your hips with his hands, pushing your ass against his hips before aligning his cock at your entrance.

without warning, toji shoves his bare cock entirely into your pussy and you both moan at this different sensation. “o-oh fuck..” you mewl, your sticky walls already clenching tight around him. “s-shit.. [name], your pussy feels so damn good,” toji grunts, hips moving at a quicker pace.

toji didn’t mention to you, but you’re the first person here that he’s fucking without a condom and damn it felt way better than ever. with the position, it allowed him to penetrate deeper into your pussy and rub perfectly against your g-spot. your moans became louder and constant as his thrusts became stronger, and you began pushing your hips back to match the sync of his thrusts.

“fuckkk, yeah. fuck my cock, princess,” toji groans at your hip’s movements, head falling back as he starts heavily pounding you from the back. “feels s’damn good, yeah,” he’d add next, eyes lowering to the area in which you two connected.

toji’s dick quivers at the sight of your pussy spreading so well to his cock, since he was a much bigger man that you. he’d never imagine a small and cute girl sucking in his cock like this, begging for him until she couldn’t anymore. “tojiii, i love your cock sososo much!” you cry, your pussy squeezing him as if you’re trying to milk his cum out.

his cock is thrusted deep into you, kissing your womb and stroking against your sensitive g-spot. in that moment, you were so glad that you came to the brothel with your friends— and that you didn’t leave before toji approached you. your friends would probably be confused on your actions once they see you again, but who’d care what they would think? if they saw toji, you bet they would be wanting to pursue him too.

"ngh- fuckkk- i want keep coming here! i want to feel your raw cock fill up my pussy just like this!" you scream, eyes rolling back as your tears stream down your messy face.

"haaahh, princess. if you keep coming here wanting that then..." toji begins through his grunts and pants, hips slamming harshly against your ass that it'd leave marks. "you might.. actually end up getting.. pregnant. fuck-" he moans, feeling you squeeze his cock at his words.

"'ts okay, toji- i'll deal with- the consequences! pleaseee, i want your cum!" you reply through your heavy moans, head turning around to face him. your expression was so erotic and filthy, you practically had heart eyes just for him. it made toji wonder if he should just cum in you like you wanted. oh how it made his dick twitch from imagining knocking you up with his babies. "we're both going to deal with the consequence, princess. shitt fine, i'm gonna give you my cum since you've been so good to me," toji replies as his grip on your hips tighten.

"yesyesyes! oh god- pleaseplease give me your cum!" you plead over and over, and how can toji reject such a proposal like that? especially when it's coming from you? "fuck, fuck," toji chants, fingertips dipping into your skin as he feels his climax forming quick. "take all of my cum like the good girl you are, 'kay? don't you dare fucking waste it or else i'll fuck more into you."

maybe toji shouldn't have said that, but either way, you both were certain that there was no stopping even after this. at this point, he was going to work past his shift, but he didn’t care one bit. if you both were kicked out, he’d invite you to his place and you’d both continue fucking from there. constant sex with you was one of his desires, but first, he wanted to know more about you.

when toji pumps his warm cum into you, your thoughts seemed to have fade from your head. you’ve never experienced such erotic, explicit, and dirty sex like this before, and it’s something you’ll be craving for once you and toji go separate ways. well, that is if you do.

toji remains his cock in your pussy, wanting to keep warm. as you’re catching for air, you can feel him press kisses against your shoulder and down your back. his lips travel back to your neck and towards your ear, and you could feel his hot breath gently brushing against your skin.

“wanna ride me next, princess?”

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: GOODNESS THIS WAS AGONIZING TO WRITE.. i didnt know when i’d finish this but thankfully it didn’t take more than two days.. LOL. have a good day/night guys. likes + reblogs is appreciated!!!! &lt;3

[lipglossanon]

Day 19

Kink: Blindfold

Pairing: Ghost!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blindfold, slight somno, cnc (cause reader thinks it’s a dream she’s into it but ya know lol), very short and reader centric, slight dirty talk, masturbation, nipple play, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, cum marking

Not proofread

The house is drafty and damp the first day you move in; hell, the entire first week. It doesn’t help that you decided to move in the middle of October. But beggars can’t be choosers. And it’s a house you inherited years ago from some aunt (or maybe cousin). 

It’s quaint; a little home off the main highway out of town, a little ways back in the woods away from prying eyes. Thankfully whoever lived here before renovated the absolute shit out of it, so you only have to move yourself in and you’re set.

The first few weeks has you passing out as soon as your head touches the pillow. Between moving and starting your new job, you’re exhausted enough to just crash out. You eventually get a better routine that’s not so linear. 

It’s also around this time that you notice odd bits of your things either going missing or misplaced. Your car keys are near the kitchen counter instead of by the door or your phone turns up on the living room couch instead of where you had it plugged in to charge. 

There’s also a strange sensation of being watched felt randomly, but it’s always in your bedroom and en suite bathroom. Sometimes, when you wake in the mornings still sleep addled, it feels like someone’s lying beside you, before it slowly dissipates. 

Those mornings your clothes are askew like you’ve been tossing and turning all night—nipples stiff and sore like they’ve been pinched and tugged repeatedly and your panties are plastered to your soaked cunt, pussy lips and swollen clit outlined through the wet fabric. 

Sliding your hand underneath your panties, you get yourself off in no time flat—that odd feeling of being watched turning you on even more. It’s strange, but you always shake it off by the time you shower and leave for work. 

Finally, a Saturday night rolls around that sees you relaxing in bed, mindlessly watching TV. You don’t mean to, but you drift to sleep. It’s the only explanation for the hazy quality of your room and the staticky screen. A pair of cold hands smooth their way up your neck to cover your eyes with a cloth. 

Heat thrums through your body, nipples peaking through your shirt. Your mystery lover must notice because his hands move from your temples down to slip under your shirt to cup your breasts, squeezing and groping the soft flesh. He lingers, playing with your nipples until you’re squeezing your thighs and whimpering. 

Ignoring your pleas for more, he squeezes your tits until the fat spills between his fingers. He groans next to your ear and you feel him press his hard cock against your hip. 

“Please,” you gasp out. “Touch me.”

Keeping one hand on your breast pinching your nipple, he trails cold fingers down your stomach to dip beneath your panties. He swipes through your soaked folds to rub your pudgy clit. 

Wasting no time, he slides his middle and ring finger into your sopping wet hole, palm clapping against your fat bud. Keening, you rock your hips in time with his fingers fucking into your cunt. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a hushed breath into the shell of your ear. 

He keeps teasing and plucking your nipples, groping your breasts greedily. He thrusts his fingers into your pussy a little rougher, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. Your orgasm winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each press of his cold digits into your gushing pussy. 

Before you can tumble over that ledge, he slides his fingers out of your clenching heat with a wet schlick. 

“Noo,” you whine, head tossing back and forth. 

Using both hands, he pushes you flat onto the bed, body weight settling over you. He’s unusually cold, but your skin feels so feverish with arousal it’s a welcome contrast. Sighing, you feel his cock prod at your cunt lips before notching at your hole. You moan as he pushes in, pussy eagerly sucking his cock into your fluttering walls. 

“Oh fuck,” you mewl, feeling his fingers rub and circle your clit. “God, right there.”

You catch a little bit off groan from above, but it all slips away under your own noises as he begins to fuck you hard and deep. The head of his cock rubs against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt perfectly, pushing you closer to climax with every rough grind against it. 

You reach up to take the blindfold off, realizing you’re unsure of who the man of your dreams even is, but a cold hand snags your wrists and presses them above your head. This angle has his pelvis grinding into your clit as he pounds your dripping pussy, making you cry out in pleasure. 

“I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck, oh, oh—“

Your voice cuts off with a gasping moan, pussy clamping down on the cock thrusting in and out of your hole so tightly he buries himself deep in your pulsing walls. You thrash and writhe underneath his cool body, but he doesn’t budge, cock splitting open your snug pussy until your orgasm leaves you boneless and breathless. 

He begins fucking you with fast shallow strokes of his dick, quietly groaning as you squeeze and milk his cock. It doesn’t take long for him to pull out and shoot his load across your swollen cunt, coating your clit and pussy lips in cum. Mewling, your hole squeezes down on nothing, weakly aroused by him marking you with his spend. 

Feeling abnormally tired now, you fall asleep before you can move to clean up. It’s not until you’re jolted awake by your phone going off that you realize you’re alone in bed, tv shut off, and weak morning light streaming through your window. Rubbing your eyes, you then shift a hand down to feel your body. Completely covered up and no mess to speak of; you laugh to yourself. 

“I need to buy a vibrator if I keep dreaming like that,” you rasp, climbing out of bed to head to the bathroom. 

You’re totally oblivious to the shadowy outline of a man drifting behind you, watching your every move such as he has everyday since you moved into his home. 

[angelikook]

Red String of Fate

Pairing(s): Janitor and delivery person!Yoongi x college student!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, e2l-ish, college au-ish, soulmate au-ish

Word Count: 10.7k

Warning(s): Profanity, alcohol use

Summary: The red string of fate connects two enemies. However, Yoongi’s red string, which is attached to Y/n, suddenly disappears after he meets her the second time.

A/n This fic officially marks my comeback to Tumblr *insert applause here 👏* After years of hiatus, my life finally settles a bit so I can continue what I've always loved. I had so much fun writing this one. Enjoy! This fic is still unedited though, I'll edit it ASAP.

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There were three things that Yoongi wished didn’t exist. One, flat-earthers. Two, anti vaxxers. And three, the red string of fate.

During 21 years of his life, he learned that not only the red string of fate foresaw the relationship of two people, but also the fact that it predicted hostility between them and not romance like what those legends had said. Not to mention the disturbing fact that he could see them for as far as he could remember.

He’d seen his parents divorced, his two best friends fought one another, and even random people argued on the street. And what was the similarity of all of them? That damned red string that was attached between the people involved. The sure sign that those people would go their separate ways sooner or later.

As he went about his typical Saturday which consisted of getting ready for work, doing some deliveries, and depositing some money to his parents’ bank account, he noticed the absence of his red string. With an almost inhuman speed, he finished the rest of his routine and called his only friend.

The door jingled as he pushed the door open. In an instant, a smell of coffee entered his nostrils. He couldn’t help but to take a long whiff, enjoying the rich aroma.

Upon seeing him walking in, the boy who stood behind the counter grinned at him. “Take a seat. I’ll come to you in a bit.”

He strode to his favorite spot in the cafe, at the far corner near the window where he could watch the pedestrians outside.

The boy who was once behind the counter turned the store sign to ‘closed’, turned off some of the lights, and made some drinks before sauntering to Yoongi with two cups in hand.

“Sorry for meeting you at this time, Tae. I honestly don’t know what to do if you are busy.”

“No worries. It’s not like I’ve other things to do after this.” The boy placed a cup in front of Yoongi.

“Thanks,” Yoongi mumbled. “Won’t your boss be angry if you have a guest here?”

“Nope. In fact, she encourages us to have guests. To introduce the cafe to more people, she said.”

“Good marketing strategy.”

“I know right. So, what do you wanna talk about?”

Yoongi told the boy in front of him about his day. From the moment he woke up, until the time he texted his friend to meet up with extra detail when he realized his string had disappeared.

He was just finished with the second to the last delivery. The lady who received the food thanked him and went back inside her house. He took it as a cue for him to continue with his last delivery.

It was when he was checking the next address when he felt something was missing.

He patted his pockets to look for his phone, wallet, and keys which were still intact. He made sure he didn’t forget the food he needed to deliver. He even checked his phone in case there was a task he’d forgotten to do.

But he found none.

With head full of confusion, trying to remember what was missing, he drove to the last address.

Five minutes away from the last place he needed to go, at a traffic light, his eyes fell to his left pinky, the place where his red string attached to him. The place where there was no longer a red string.

His eyes were big as saucers as he inspected his pinky.

During 21 years of his life, there was not a single time, as far as he knew, in which the red string ever disappeared. It could twist, bend, stretch, and become thinner, but never disappear. It could even fade sometimes, but could never vanish.

He looked around to see other road users. Their red strings were glaringly obvious. Some even had a deep red color.

He sighed though not all his worries went away.

He didn’t lose his ability, just his string.

“Oh my God! I just realized that your string is very much gone.”

“Do you have an idea of what this means? Or what caused this to happen?”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “It’s your fault for not joining our weekly meeting.”

Yoongi met Taehyung at a club specifically made for people who can see the red string. He didn’t know what made him join the club, but he could probably blame his curiosity for that.

“I have work. Plus, it’s not like you understand what’s going on either after attending them.”

“Touché. But, do you know who’s at the other end?”

“I knew about it a few weeks ago.”

How stupid of him to ignore the weather forecast this morning. It said that there was going to be a thunderstorm. Yoongi just realized how accurate the forecaster was as the rain hit against the library's windows loudly.

His shift as the campus’ janitor had ended an hour ago, but since the rain didn’t let him go home and he was stupid enough not to bring an umbrella, he decided to wait in the library until the rain subside.

Every now and then, a thunder illuminated the dimly lit library before breaking in an ear-splitting noise. And every time it happened, he couldn't help but to wince even after hearing it for the nth time in the past hour.

He was sitting on the floor in the corner while gripping the encyclopedia on his lap. His mind couldn't cooperate for the last few minutes. He'd been reading the same line for countless times now and he grew agitated.

On the next aisle, a couple had been arguing for the past five minutes. And as much as Yoongi didn't like to eavesdrop, he had no headphones he could use to cover his ears.

"So, going out with my best friend behind my back was your brilliant solution?" the girl half-yelled.

They had been half-yelling the entire time. They knew that they weren't allowed to be loud here, yet they still chose a library out of all places to have an argument. That ticked Yoongi off.

"She came to me first, okay? I didn't know you weren't there. She said you were coming along," the boy defended himself.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. Of course a cheater would make up stupid reasons.

“Here’s what’s going wrong. One, you could leave her once you knew. Two, you could tell me you were with her. Three, you could cross-check with me first. And you did nothing out of all three.”

Yoongi smirked and nodded in agreement though he knew well they couldn’t see him. It was exactly what he’d say in a situation like that. He liked this girl, they had a similar way of thinking.

Yoongi suddenly grew curious at what the girl looked like. He scooted closer towards their voices and peeked between the books on the shelf.

Just like what he’d imagined, the girl was gorgeous. Or, at least as gorgeous as a sleep deprived college student can be.

She had a cute nose and lips, and bright eyes despite looking tired and sleepy. Dark eyebags and fading eyeliner decorated her eyes. Her hair glistened under the dim light, probably still wet due to the rain. Her pink lipstick also started to wear off, showing off her natural chapped lips.

The boy grew quiet for a bit. “Sorry, babe. It won’t happen again.”

She snorted. “I know. Because there’s no such thing as next time. Bye.”

As she walked off, his eyes trained down to her pinky, a habit he’d had because of the stupid ‘talent’ he had. He followed the red string on her pinky to the other end of the string, another habit he’d had because he was full of curiosity.

Most of the time he couldn’t see the other end, since enemies usually weren’t within sight with each other. This time, though, he kinda hoped that hers would connect to the boy she was dating. That way, it’d explain why they broke up.

Not as expected, her string ended on his pinky.

“Do you hate her?” Taehyung asked after sipping on his hot chocolate.

“Nope.”

“Maybe that’s why the string disappeared?” Taehyung suggested. “The string only connects enemies. Maybe if it makes a mistake like this, it’ll disappear.”

“Can the string make a mistake?”

Taehyung shrugged. “You don’t hate her, though.”

“But why didn’t it disappear right then, why today?”

Taehyung bit his lip, deep in thought. “Did something happen today?”

“Not today, but I met her yesterday.”

He was late to work and his dead watch was to blame. Somehow it slipped his mind to change the batteries and now he had to deal with his own stupidity.

As he scurried to campus, someone accidentally crashed into him from behind. His tattered bag fell and spilled its contents.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry!" A girl crouched beside him and helped him pick up his stuff.

"It's okay," he replied timidly.

Right as he put the last thing into his bag, the girl's friend, who since then only loomed over them in silence, clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"Can you be faster? I have a presentation in 10 minutes."

When Yoongi and the girl stood up, he finally got the chance to see who the girl's friend was. Their connected red string only confirmed it further.

Since the last time Yoongi saw her, she was in a worse condition. A cup of coffee was in one hand, a laptop in the other. Her eyes were puffy and dried tears were visible in her cheeks. Unlike back then at the library, she didn't wear any makeup. She wore an old oversized sweater which looked older than Yoongi's seven years old bag with a pair of washed up jeans that were baggy in weird places.

The girl who helped him snapped back at her, "That's your own fault for having a midlife crisis this morning."

The library girl only linked her arm around the girl's arm and dragged her.

He knew she was supposed to be his enemy, but for the rest of the day Yoongi couldn't help but to wonder what happened to her. His curiosity got the best of him now that he knew she was on the other end of his string.

Did she have another relationship problem? Or maybe her ex pleaded to get back together again? Or maybe just college stuff?

"You didn't ask her name?"

"She was in a hurry,” Yoongi defended himself.

"Still. I think we need as much information as possible, and a trusted person."

"Like who?"

"Namjoon."

"The club's leader? Are you kidding me?"

"Hey! He might be the only one who knows about this ordeal."

"But you're talking to him." It wasn’t a question.

Taehyung shook his head. "No. You talk to him."

"We're talking to him."

"Fine."

Despite Namjoon’s busy schedule and Yoongi’s multiple jobs, meeting him was easier than Yoongi had initially thought. One day he just texted him and not five minutes later Namjoon replied to meet up the next day after his shift ended. Just as promised, Taehyung came as a moral support and to provide with drinks.

After hearing Yoongi’s story, which was occasionally added by Taehyung with small details, Namjoon frowned. He bit his bottom lip and his eyes became unfocused.

“Do you think you can help us?” Yoongi asked after a minute of silence, already expecting a negative answer from the way the leader was behaving.

Namjoon’s eyes focused back to Yoongi’s. “I’m not sure. I’ve read something about this, but there wasn’t any more research about that. Maybe I can ask the previous leaders and see if they know about it.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“You said you knew who was on the other end. Can you bring her here? Maybe she knows something.”

“He doesn’t know her name, though,” Taehyung chimed in before Yoongi could say anything.

“That’s fine. Take as much time needed. I need to talk to the previous leaders anyway. Just tell me once you’re ready.”

“Joon,” Taehyung called him, catching his attention. “Is it possible that the string is wrong? Yoongi doesn’t hate her and that’s why the string disappeared?”

Taehyung’s question echoed in his mind for days on end. If his theory was right, then why was the string still there on the day at the library? Why didn’t it disappear right away? And what was going to happen now that his string was gone?

But one more question stood out the most to him. How could he ask for her to come with him without sounding creepy?

With the clock struck seven, his shift had ended and he could go home. He changed out of his uniform and walked towards the campus’ exit where there were some students still lingering.

He rolled his eyes at them. ‘Those kids are so lucky to be able to get an education at a place like this and they’re probably unaware of it,’ he thought.

Right as he was about to step out the door, a poster caught his eyes. More specifically, a face he’d grown to recognize just caught his eyes.

The poster was talking about a speech that was going to be held in a week’s time. The speech was going to be about the importance of vaccines and would be attended by some famous speakers. He knew one of the speakers.

It was the library girl. But unlike at the library nor in front of the campus, she wore a bright smile. She flashed her teeth, her eyes twinkled. Her makeup was perfectly done, thanks to meticulous makeup artists who took time with her face.

Underneath her photo, her name was printed in bold. Y/n L/n.

Yoongi gasped as he read her name again and again. He even tried how her name tasted in his mouth when he said it.

Her name was exactly like herself. Sweet, but not too sweet, with a hint of salty for her sharp words. It was closest to salted caramel in his mind.

But what was more important was the fact that he’d found her name. He grinned to himself at the thought. His only feat left was to talk to her and ask her to meet Namjoon.

The speech was held after the lunch break, which meant he got half a day to plan what to say to her. However, since he woke up, his mind had been a cloudy mess, he couldn’t think straight.

He tried to jot down possible things he could say to Y/n, but his clammy hand kept wetting his paper. He tried to type his thoughts on his phone, but his supervisor caught him playing on his phone and scolded him. All his efforts were futile in the end. His mind, paper, and phone notes were still as empty as they were this morning.

The night before, he’d talked to Namjoon and Taehyung, but both were as helpful as his empty mind.

“Just say whatever. It’s better if you tell her we’ll be talking about the red string,” Namjoon had said.

“Tell us how it goes, okay?” was the only thing Taehyung said.

When the time arrived, he waited in front of the campus’ hall where the speech was held.

Through the glass doors, he could see Y/n and a couple other speakers he didn’t care for. He couldn’t hear what they said, though. They took turns to speak, each more passionate than the speaker before them until the time Y/n stepped to the center of the stage.

All these time Yoongi only saw the angry, sad, and tired Y/n to the point he’d internalized the idea that she was like that most of the time. This was the first time he saw her speaking in front of hundreds of audience with a burning passion.

From outside where he couldn’t hear a single thing, he still felt moved and inspired by just seeing her hand gestures alone. He couldn’t imagine what it felt to be able to listen to her speech.

When she was done with her speech and bowed to the audience, they erupted in cheers and clapped their hands.

The event quickly ended with the MC saying some closing speech. With that, the crowd left the hall one by one not even minding Yoongi who was standing outside. Only a couple of faculty members and students still lingered inside, chatting animatedly with the speakers.

A pang of jealousy coursed through him at the sight of them. If money wasn’t a problem for him, he would have had a higher education just like these people. And to be reminded that those students were around his age made him sullen.

Among all the people inside, Y/n was the first to leave the hall. Looked like lady luck was on Yoongi’s side today since Y/n left all alone.

Yoongi quickly snatched his only chance and approached her.

“Hi. You’re Y/n, right?”

“Hi. Yeah, I am. And you are?” Her honey voice was sweeter than what he’d heard at the library. He could tell from her voice alone that her mood was definitely better than the last time he saw her.

“Yoongi. I’m the campus’ journalist.” At this point he just spewed out lies and he thought he was quite good at it. “Can we talk for a bit?”

“Sure. About what?”

“I was listening to your speech earlier,” another lie, “and I think you’re strongly opinionated,” not a lie. “I’m wondering if I can interview you? It’s gonna be about the red string.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “The red string?”

Yoongi involuntarily gulped in fear Y/n would reject him.

“I don’t think I have anything to say about that, I’m sorry.”

His heart dropped.

Y/n was about to leave when Yoongi spoke up again, “Umm… It’s okay. We’re going to compile different opinions into one anyways, so if you don’t have a lot to say about it, that’s fine.”

“Oh.” Y/n stopped in her tracks. “When’s the interview then? Is it now? Because if it’s now, I have-”

“No, don’t worry. We can have the interview anytime you’re free. Plus, I won’t be the one interviewing you, an expert or something will ask the questions and I’m just gonna sum them up.”

Y/n nodded. “Can we do it tonight? Maybe around eight after the classes end?”

Technically, Yoongi could, but he didn’t know whether Namjoon was free or not.

“I need to ask the interviewer first. Make sure they’re free and all.”

“Good!”

Yoongi pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Can I have your number?”

Asking for a girl’s number was an achievement he didn’t know he would reach.

Y/n punched in her number and gave the phone back to him. “What’s your name again?”

Yoongi put his phone back into his pocket. “Yoongi.”

The walk to the cafe Taehyung worked at was as awkward as it could get. Two people who just knew each other for a couple of hours walking together, not knowing what to say to break the tension. Not to mention this was Yoongi’s first time walking with a girl.

Yoongi didn’t know whether he should feel lucky or not with Y/n trying to start small talks between them. Lucky because he didn’t have to come up with a topic, unlucky because he had to keep building lies upon lies.

“What year are you in?” Y/n kicked a small rock away from her path.

Yoongi counted in his head. 21 years olds usually were in their third year.

“Third. You?”

“Same. What are you studying?”

“I’m in art. Music.” In his defense, he did music in his free time, so he wasn’t exactly lying.

Y/n halted in her tracks. “Music?”

Uh, oh. Did he just say something wrong?

Yoongi also stopped walking and gave Y/n a questioning look.

“As far as I know, there’s no music major here.”

“Umm… I mean I’m studying art, but also join the music club.”

Y/n started walking again. “I see.”

Yoongi sighed in relief. Nice save.

“What-” The words caught in his throat. “What about you?”

“Science.”

The interview went pretty much the same. Only a series of questions and short answers. She was right when she said she didn’t have anything to say about the red string.

“Do you believe the red string?”

“No.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Not much.”

“Like?”

“Some people can see it.”

“And?”

“It connects soulmates.”

Yoongi stifled a laugh. If only life wasn’t so cruel, it would happen.

“What if I tell you I can see the red string?”

Y/n shrugged. “Good for you.”

“You don’t wanna know to whom yours is connected?”

And other questions that Yoongi had tuned out in boredom. From his peripheral vision, Y/n was holding back a yawn as if to confirm to him that the interview was indeed boring. The now cold coffee in front of them did nothing to keep them alert.

Thanks to his ability to ignore his surroundings for long periods of time, the interview came to an end before he knew it.

Namjoon glanced at the clock before closing his notebook. “It’s almost 10. Sorry to keep you until late.” He stood up and shook Y/n’s hand. “Thank you for helping us.”

“No problem,” Y/n said, though her eyes were starting to droop.

Yoongi was trying hard to hold his smile. It was a rare sight to see someone so tired they barely could keep their eyes open.

Worry and realization clawed at his heart at the sight of Y/n. With a little money he had in his pocket, he had to pay for her favor. Not pay directly with money, because that would be rude. But maybe give her something that she needed.

As if on cue, he heard Y/n’s stomach rumble as they said their goodbyes.

That was it! He could buy her food as a thank you.

He only had money to feed one person, though. It was supposed to be his dinner.

Yoongi bit his lip in confusion. He needed to pay tonight because he didn’t know if they were going to meet again. Plus, going without food for one night wouldn’t be that bad for his health, right? He could just start breakfast earlier the next morning.

He had made up his mind.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna eat?” Y/n asked after swallowing her burger. In front of her, Yoongi could only stare at her food while drooling.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You can take my fries.” She pushed her fries towards Yoongi. “I don’t eat fries. They make me fat.”

He gratefully shoved one into his mouth, savouring it before chewing on it. “And burger doesn’t?”

“Well, it contains meat and lettuce, so it’s not 100% carbs.”

Yoongi silently nodded though he was sure a burger contains more calories.

“How come I never see you on campus?” Y/n asked.

They had been walking towards her place for a while and Y/n refused an awkward silence to fill the air.

“We’re in different buildings, remember?”

This wasn’t a lie. Yoongi indeed worked most of the time in the arts building, a solid 100 meters away from the science building.

“Right. I keep forgetting that. Sorry.” Y/n giggled. As cliché as that sounds, her laugh sounded like bells in his ears.

“Don’t be sorry. No one really cares about art majors.”

Her giggles died down. “I care. I think art is a great way to make a statement. Not to mention it transcends all language barriers. A great media to change the world, isn’t it?”

That was definitely a view of art that Yoongi had never heard before. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t stunned at her words.

“Wow,” Yoongi eventually blurted. No wonder she was giving a speech a few hours ago.

Y/n stopped in front of a huge gate belonging to an apartment building before turning to him.

“Thank you for the food and for taking me home. I owe you one.” She smiled.

“No. Take the food as a thank you for helping me with my article.” At this point, lies came flowing out of his mouth. “And taking you home is just something normal everyone does.”

“Still. I gave you a favor, but you gave me two. It’s only right if I pay you somehow.”

“I want to, though. It helps me sleep at night.”

Yoongi stared at Y/n’s eyes. They were droopy and red from sleepiness, but still held sincerity. Before he drowned in her eyes, he pulled himself back and nodded.

“Okay.”

That night, Yoongi fell asleep with a half-empty stomach and a full heart.

The next few days went by as usual. Wake up, get ready, go to work, go home, sleep. No Namjoon, no Y/n, nor Taehyung in his mind. He was truly back to his boring life before his string disappeared.

The only difference was the ringing noise of Y/n’s words in his ears. ‘Art is a great way to make a statement.’

All these times, he only did art—music—because it was all he knew. He’d known of the possibility of making a statement with music, people had brought politics and social issues into their songs, but he wasn’t brave enough to challenge himself with those issues. He always thought that only famous or rich people were allowed to make such statements.

Yoongi’s next interaction with Y/n was in the form of a text.

Hey, Yoon. Sorry for disturbing you. But I’m curious whether my interview will make it to the campus’ newspaper.

He quickly made up another lie.

Hey. It’s fine. The team decided to change the topic, sorry. Kinda sad, I know.

Y/n instantly replied.

But you’ve worked hard for this! Can’t you say anything to them?

Oh, how he wished he could. Problem was, he wasn’t even a student here.

No convincing will do. They have made up their mind.

Y/n sent in two messages.

That’s inefficient journalism, wasting perfectly good interviews.

Before he got the chance to read Y/n’s second message, his supervisor warned him to put his phone down.

He only got the chance to read the message after his shift ended.

I think it’s the right time for me to pay you back, don’t you think?

Ice cream definitely wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind when Y/n said she wanted to pay him back. He was thinking something like paying for his bus ride home, or maybe buying him some food just like what he did for her. Basically anything that would be more useful than just a sweet dessert that couldn’t even fill an empty stomach.

He wasn’t one to complain, though. In his defense, he hadn’t had one in a long time; he didn’t even remember when was the last time he ate one. He was rather happy to break his long streak with Y/n.

“Something’s wrong with the journalism club,” Y/n said before putting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

“How so?”

Y/n waved her spoon around. “How redundant to have a person interview a bunch of people only to change the topic in the end?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Things happen.”

“Does this happen often? If yes, that’s crazy.”

“I don’t think so.”

Y/n snorted. “You probably wanna keep your club’s secret. I understand.” Y/n angrily scooped her ice cream. “Aren’t you angry at being mistreated like this?”

“To be honest, I don’t care. It’s not like I like this club anyways.”

“You should leave the club, then. Do something you actually like instead of rotting in that club.”

Yoongi just nodded. What else could he do? He wasn’t even a member to begin with.

“What do you like to do? You said something about the music club.”

“Yeah. I do music in my free time although I’m not that active in the club.”

“Do you do gigs?”

Finally a topic he didn’t need to lie about.

Yoongi answered after he swallowed, “I don’t do that type of music. I don’t perform. I produce music.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “This is the first time I know a music producer. What's it like to produce music?”

Yoongi told her about the first time he learned how to produce music, who taught him that, and even where he learned that. He was 13 at the time and a neighbor offered to show him how to produce music. It was the first time he knew music, it was love at first sight.

“I think it’s great for you to know what you wanna do,” Y/n commented after he finished his story.

“That’s the thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to pursue it deeper but I don’t know how.”

“You can take up producing jobs?” she suggested.

It was time for him to open up. “There’s this entertainment company looking for an intern, but I don’t know if I can squeeze some time for that.”

Y/n’s face that was once relaxed, now became stern. “Are you sure you want to produce music your whole life?”

It was the same question his parents had asked him when he told them he wanted to do music.

He nodded.

The creases in Y/n’s face disappeared as she leaned back in her seat. “There you have it. Clear up your schedule and run for your dreams. If it’s worth it, you make time for it.”

That was the cue he needed to send his CV.

Despite his protests of not wanting to disturb her time, Y/n met Yoongi after her classes ended just a few days after he sent his CV.

Y/n grinned immediately upon seeing Yoongi in front of the campus’ gates.

“Have you seen the results?”

Yoongi shook his head, not trusting his voice.

“What are you waiting for? Open it!” Y/n peered into Yoongi’s phone.

With clammy, shaky hands, he opened the email and read the message.

Dear Min Yoongi,

We’ve read your CV and would like to discuss more with you on Tuesday, July 6th, 2021 at 13:00.

Regards,

Go Youngjae

He was still registering the message and rereading it over and over again when Y/n jumped and yelled, “This calls for a celebration!”

Y/n, her yellings, and people watching them thinking they were weirdos were all around him, yet his mind was clouded with the words from the message.

Only when Y/n grabbed his shoulders to grab his attention he was brought back to reality.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Huh? A celebration?”

Y/n nodded so enthusiastically he worried she would accidentally hurt her neck.

“Okay, then.”

Y/n took a sip of her beer. “I’m jealous of you.”

Around them were bustling with people coming home from their work to eat.

“How?”

“You’re talented enough to achieve your dreams.”

“I’m not accepted yet.”

“Yet,” Y/n emphasized. “It’s just a matter of time before you work there.”

Yoongi frowned. “What do you wanna do then?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know,” she whisper-yelled before taking a large gulp of beer. “And people think we’re adults who are supposed to know what we’re doing.” Y/n snorted.

Yoongi sipped on his own beer while nodding. Sometimes people around him forgot that he was a 21 years old kid who still needed guidance on life. Just because he had two jobs, didn’t mean he knew what he was doing.

“Are you happy with your life right now?” he asked.

Y/n shrugged. “I’d like to think so.”

“Then keep doing what you’re doing.” He knew his advice didn’t help, but he wasn’t graced with the talent to console people.

“I can’t keep being a student.” Y/n laughed in frustration. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “In a year, we’ll graduate. And then what? It’s all black for me while you’re interning. At least you have direction while I’m still as blind as a bat.”

“That sounds depressing.”

“Because it is!” Y/n whined before taking another sip. “Sorry to ruin your celebration with my sad girl problems. Let’s just talk about you.”

Oh, Y/n didn’t know how much he’d rather have his celebration ruined by Y/n than to celebrate on his own.

In between her fading makeup, he could see Y/n’s face started to turn pinkish. Out of courtesy, he gently pulled her beer away from her.

“I think you’re tipsy.”

“No, I’m not.” Y/n reached back for her beer but it was out of reach. “Give it back.”

He argued with something he knew she wouldn’t refute, “You’ll ruin our celebration even further if you’re drunk.”

That kept her sober for the rest of the night.

“I think you’re too keen for celebrations,” Yoongi commented as he eyed Y/n with a bottle of wine. He didn’t even want to know how much it cost a fortune to buy that.

“Who doesn’t like to celebrate?” Y/n sat on her couch and patted the space beside her. “Don’t just stand there. Sit down!”

It was just a few hours after his interview. While he didn’t want to assume how well it went, Y/n believed it went pretty well. In her defense, had the interview gone wrong, he wouldn’t be here in her apartment, he would be crying away in his bedroom. Thus, Y/n convinced him to have another celebration.

Y/n couch was soft to the touch and probably cost more than his kidneys, he felt bad of having to sit on it and potentially dirtying it. But Y/n didn’t pay attention to it while she poured the wine into his glass.

“We have work tomorrow.” He immediately corrected himself with a cough. “Class, I mean.”

“We won’t drink a lot.” She handed him his glass. “Just one glass.”

Yoongi took the glass. “Just one glass.”

But of course one glass turned to two, and three, and a morning full of confusion and hangover.

Yoongi woke up startled. He sat up and gasped for air. His head was killing him, as if someone was hammering his head. His throat was dry, as dry as the desert. More importantly, he didn’t know where he was until the memory of the night before came rushing into his head.

Y/n pouring his drink, laughing at something silly he said, leaned closer and closer to him as her awareness slipped away little by little. And the feeling of her chapped lips on his.

He choked on his saliva. Did he really just kiss her? Or was it just a dream?

His fingers lingered on his lips, trying to remember the taste of Y/n’s lips.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a familiar voice emerged from the kitchen. “Are you thinking about the kiss?”

Yoongi stared at the girl sitting on the dining table.

“Relax, nothing happened. Just a drunken kiss.” She shrugged before shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

How could she talk about the kiss so lightly? Or maybe he was reading too much into it while the kiss really didn’t mean anything.

“Does that happen often?” he croaked. He winced, he really needed to drink.

As if reading his mind, Y/n grabbed a glass of water and gestured to it, ushering him to take it.

Yoongi slowly got up from the couch, hissed when his headache flared, and walked to the dining table.

“Being drunk or the kiss?”

“The drunken kiss.”

She snorted. “Can you believe it? I don’t get drunk that often and I don’t kiss people every time I’m drunk.”

“You were almost drunk a few days ago.” Yoongi took a seat in front of her.

“Almost. Not completely black out drunk like last night.”

With how nonchalant Y/n seemed, Yoongi blurted out the burning question, “Doesn’t the kiss mean anything to you?”

“I’d like to believe that a drunken kiss means nothing.” She shrugged. “We’re drunk, we can’t even recall it. A meaningful kiss is not a kiss you easily forget.”

“And if you’re drunk but still remember it?”

“Is it still meaningful if the person you kiss doesn't remember it?"

Just like how it always had been, Y/n’s words rang through his ears for days. When he was scrubbing the walls, mopping the floor, taking the trash out, and even on the weekends when he had deliveries.

Not only her words, but the taste of her dry lips and the way she leaned to him etched permanently in his mind. The way she poured him a drink, the way she lazily ate her breakfast. He memorized it all like a fanatic memorizing the Bible. Not leaving a single detail out.

It was just a matter of time until he decided to take action against it.

“I can’t do this. I need to come clean with her.”

The time happened to be a week after the kiss after Taehyung’s cafe closed for the day.

“What? Who? Why? What happened?”

“I think I’m starting to like her, hard. Y/n, I mean.”

Taehyung gave him a meaningful look.

“Don’t give me that look,” Yoongi groaned. “I know it’s wrong because we’re supposed to be enemies. But she’s so fascinating, you know.”

“Tell me about it.”

“She has this… different views of things.”

Taehyung nodded understandingly. “Of course. A quirky girl who can change you. Like an unoriginal love story.”

Yoongi thought, had Y/n been there with them, she would say something along the lines of, "That what makes those movies realistic, doesn't it? Real people don't fight zombies for love."

His mind had been poisoned with the thought of her.

“She’s not just quirky, okay,” he protested, though he didn’t know whether he was defending himself or Y/n. “She’s not quirky at all. In fact, she’s the typical college student.”

“The rich, spoiled one?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

“The rich and spoiled one.” Yoongi nodded while chuckling, remembering your fear of adulthood and your lavish apartment.

“I don’t know, dude. But whether you like her or not, or even love her, you still need to come clean.”

Yoongi quieted down at the thought of having to confess his lies to Y/n.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

What was he scared of? To be honest, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he was going to confess his feelings or anything. Just coming clean that he wasn’t a student, but a janitor. That he wasn’t a broke college student, just broke.

Maybe he feared the unknown. He was entering a whole new territory he had never been to.

He’d made up lies upon lies to the person he thought he would never kiss, would never be addicted to. Would never wonder how their day went or if they had breakfast.

He was stupid. Stupid for making up those lies, stupid of ever wondering about his red string, stupid for getting involved too deep with Y/n. His supposed-to-be enemy, a person he should’ve avoided. Stupid for catching feeling with her.

He wanted to kick himself, or Taehyung, or even Namjoon. Himself because he made up those lies. Taehyung because he supported him. Namjoon because he pushed him to come up with anything.

But he knew one thing for sure. If Y/n left him after his confession, he would never forgive himself.

He was going to keep his secret a little longer. If Y/n leaving him was inevitable, at least he had delayed it as long as possible.

Y/n’s life must only contain college and celebrations.

After the results came back—he was officially an intern—Y/n wanted to hold another celebration in his stead.

“We must celebrate every milestone in our lives,” she had said.

Going by her motto, he reluctantly agreed to have another celebration. This time in the form of a small party. So small, only three people were involved. Y/n, Taehyung, and himself.

“Taehyung is your barista friend, right?” Y/n asked enthusiastically when Yoongi told her about his plans. “I always wanted to work part time as a barista,” she sighed dreamily.

Y/n was in charge of the drinks—Yoongi told her not to bring alcoholic drinks. Taehyung was with the take out food. And Yoongi was going to host the party in his house.

He hoped his mom wouldn’t mind having his friends come over.

In fact, his mom was the complete opposite. She was too hyper in his opinion.

First of all, his mom literally bonked him in his head with a vegetable spoon. “Had you told me about it, I’d make some food.”

Second of all, she embarrassed him in front of Y/n. “Yoongi here never told me that he has a pretty friend like you.”

Third of all, she started playing matchmaker. “Are any of you dating Yoongi? No? I think he looks good with Y/n, don’t you think, Taehyung?”

Yoongi had had enough.

“Mom,” he groaned. “Please, stop.”

His mom giggled. “Alright, alright. I’m going back to my room. After you’re done, clean everything up, okay.”

“So, Tae,” Y/n immediately opened her mouth after Yoongi’s mom left, “Is your boss looking for a part-timer?”

“I don’t think so. She never mentions anything about that.”

Y/n nodded sadly. “If she ever looks for a part-timer, can you tell me? I’m interested.”

“Sure.”

Y/n eyes lit up. “Oh my God, really?” She laughed. “I owe you one.”

Taehyung waved his hand dismissively, “Nah, I don’t mind helping out a friend.”

“Are we friends?”

Taehyung shrugged. “A friend of my friend is my friend.”

Y/n clapped in excitement. “That’s what I think, too! I think we’re going to be great friends.”

While they were having a conversation, Yoongi only listened and imagined a life without Y/n. A life after he confessed. His parties would just be filled with silence. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he would ever throw a party ever again.

But then another thought popped up. This one was more urgent like a ticking time bomb.

He had to leave his current job, and Y/n, to work at his new place.

No matter if he told her or not, she would eventually be out of his life.

The question had changed, then. It used to be when he was going to tell the truth. Now, it was whether he wanted to leave her on a good note or not.

“Hey.” Y/n touched his arm lightly to pull him from his thoughts. “Are you okay? Why are you so glum?”

Yoongi just shook his head, not trusting his own voice.

“Are you sure?” She frowned.

“Y/n, prepare the fruit punch! Let’s have a toast for Yoongi,” Taehyung said, catching both of their attention.

Soon after his friend said that, Y/n’s warm touch left his arm.

Though the party only ended when both of his guests went home, the fun part of the party left with Y/n. It was marked by her phone rings.

She quickly tossed her stuff into her bag and explained, “It’s my alarm. I have an assignment I forgot to do and a class early in the morning.”

“You’re going home now?” Taehyung’s glass of half-full fruit punch looked sad in his hand.

She sighed. “I’m sorry for ruining the party.” She looked at Yoongi. “Again.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi replied. “How will you get home, though? It’s dark outside.”

“I’ll call a cab.” Y/n slung her bag over her shoulder. “Tell your mom I say thank you for having me.”

With one last glance at Yoongi, she left.

“What does she mean by ‘again’?” Taehyung dared to fill the silence.

Yoongi explained everything. About the burger after her interview, the ice cream, the beer and Y/n’s sob story, the interview and the drunken kiss, and this party. All the while Taehyung listened to every word he said.

“You can’t keep her in the dark. She’s too nice and sincere,” Taehyung finally said.

“I’ll leave her anyway. I can’t keep my job at the campus while being an intern.”

“And never tell her the truth? That’s cruel, dude.”

“It’s either that, or she hates me for the rest of her life.” With a choked voice, he added, “I don’t want her to hate me.”

“You can’t possibly think of that.” Taehyung shook his head. “You’re selfish if you do that.”

“Is it wrong to be happy?” Yoongi cried.

“Yes, if you’re sacrificing her trust. Your happiness is just a lie.”

“But you were the one encouraging me to talk to her back then!”

“Had I known you were going to fall with her, I would have told you to be honest.”

He shook his head, refusing to listen to his friend’s words. He had made up his mind and there was no need for Taehyung to make him doubt his choice.

“I’m going to enjoy my time with her as long as possible.”

Taehyung’s next word, however, echoed in his mind. “You’re going to regret this.”

You’re going to regret this. The words kept ringing in his ears, just like Y/n’s words. But unlike hers that was soothing, this was hot and painful. He deserved it, though. He needed a constant reminder that he was living his best life at the expense of Y/n, her trust, and Taehyung.

“So, there’s this opening party for a new club this weekend.” Y/n stirred her tea with her straw. “And I need a plus one. I’d ask my friend, but she has a seminar or something.”

As Taehyung’s words screamed in his mind, Yoongi asked, “You want me to come with you?”

“Well, if you’re okay with that. We won’t be there long, I promise. I just wanna say hi and stuff.”

You’re going to regret this.

“Sure. What should I wear?”

Y/n shrugged. “Anything comfy. It’s just like a normal frat party at someone’s house.”

Yoongi had never been to a frat party.

By the time they arrived, the party had already started. The music blared out loud, Yoongi was sure the neighbors were filing a complaint. Inside, people were dancing, singing, and playing drinking games.

Yoongi winced when a drunk person hit him accidentally.

This wasn’t a pleasant experience.

Y/n had been long gone from his side, being dragged away from him right when they passed the door. He remembered Y/n flashing him an apologetic smile and mouthed to him, “I’ll be back.”

She’d be back. All he needed to do was stay exactly where he was and don’t catch other people’s attention. He wouldn’t want an art student to recognize him.

“Hey, I think I know you,” the drunk person from earlier slurred.

Yoongi cursed under his breath. So much for trying to stay low profile.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi replied, trying to get away from him, but he instead grabbed his arm.

“Yes, I do. I’ve seen you somewhere.” He called his friends over. “Do you know this guy?”

Gulping, Yoongi saw some of them nodded while the others shook their heads.

“I’m sure I’ve seen him before.” The drunk guy frowned, trying to remember where he met Yoongi. “Did you watch our speech?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. There was no way this dude was a speaker there. He didn’t recall him at all.

“What’s going on here?” A booming voice came from behind him.

Yoongi turned around and sighed in relief when his eyes met with Y/n’s.

“Y/n! Have you ever met this guy?” The drunk guy pointed to him.

“Yes! He’s my friend. Get away from him.” Y/n yanked the guy’s hand off of Yoongi’s arm.

“Okay, geez.” The guy raised his hands in surrender and walked away.

Once the guy was out of ear sight, Y/n hissed, “What were you thinking? He’s a person you don’t wanna get involved with.”

“He approached me first,” Yoongi defended himself.

Y/n shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Just try not to get too close with him.” Y/n whispered in his ears, “He’s a fuckboy.”

Y/n took his hand and was about to pull him out of the party when suddenly another drunk guy stopped them.

Yoongi immediately recognized the boy to be Y/n’s ex, the one she was talking to back at the library.

“Y/n!” he called, pretending to be surprised, but Yoongi could see straight to him. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

Y/n snorted. “That’s supposed to be my line. Now, get out of my way.”

“No way. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I miss you.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “And I don’t. If you have some kind of self respect, please go away.”

“There’s no way you don’t miss me. Are you seeing someone else?” The boy nodded his head towards Yoongi. “Him?”

Y/n gave her ex a straight face for a few seconds. But then her face lightened up as she whispered to Yoongi, “Play along.”

“Yes!” she answered while linking her arm around Yoongi’s. “I’m with him.”

It was the ex’s turn to furrow his eyebrows.

He checked out Yoongi. From his face, down to his clothes and shoes. Scepticism was evident on his face.

“He doesn’t look very loaded,��� the ex commented, much to Yoongi’s dismay.

Y/n shrugged. “At least he’s smarter than you.”

The ex’s attention was back on Y/n. Yoongi finally could draw a deep breath.

“He can’t possibly make you happy.”

“And your cheating ass can? Get out of my face.” Y/n pushed the ex away to the point he stumbled.

As Yoongi and Y/n walked past him, the ex yelled, “I’m marking your face, remember that.”

“Whatever. Just ignore him,” Y/n said.

“I’m assuming he’s your ex?” Yoongi asked though he already knew the answer. He could recognize the lanky boy anywhere.

“Yep. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did a lot by staying quiet.” Y/n chuckled softly as she shook her head. “He was looking for a fight, your silence confused him.”

“Why did you come to this party if it’s filled with problematic people?” he asked.

“I need to at least stop by. The club was my idea, after all.” Y/n shrugged. “Plus, not everyone there was problematic. Some are nice.”

Yoongi nodded. “I see.”

Y/n sighed. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

Resigning was another problem he had to deal with. First of all, he needed to make a letter of resignation which he didn't know how to make. Second of all, he had to print the letter though he didn’t have any printers. Third of all, he had to face his manager whom he only met once.

His manager stared deep into Yoongi’s eyes after reading his letter. “You have a new job?”

“Yes.”

“When will you start working there?” His boss tossed his letter to the trash can.

So much for trying to make a good letter.

“Two weeks from now.”

His boss pursed his lips for a moment before answering, “Okay, then. You may leave.”

“Thank you.”

Once he was outside his boss’ room, Yoongi exhaled in relief. His current job was coming to an end.

And so was his friendship with Y/n.

Three days before Yoongi left his current job, Y/n wanted to meet him in front of the campus after her class ended. He didn’t know why she wanted to meet him. After all, all she sent was a short text.

Meet me at 7 at the usual spot. Important!

He couldn’t help but to feel a sinking feeling at her last word. Did she find out about who he actually was? Or about the red string?

He was going to get his questions answered soon since he could already see the back of Y/n’s head.

But he didn’t even get the chance to greet her when Y/n turned around to face him and shoved her phone in front of Yoongi. A photo of him in a janitor uniform while holding a broom was displayed.

Yoongi stopped in his tracks and gasped. His eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Where did you get that?” Inside his deepest mind, he knew who’d taken the picture.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“I-”

“This is edited, right?” Her voice wavering, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re just a student just like me. Right?” She sounded desperate. Desperate to believe that Yoongi wasn’t lying to her.

All Yoongi could do was to look down and shake his head in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she sniffled. “I trusted you.”

“I wanted to tell you but I was looking for the right moment.”

“Bullshit! That’s all what they say. Have you ever thought of me as a friend?” She stared at Yoongi with so much venom in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n wiped her tears aggressively. Her mascara started to run down her cheeks. She looked similar to the day at the library. The day Yoongi was making fun of her ex for being stupid. But this time, he was the stupid one.

“Stop saying sorry, dammit! What part of you are real? Are the company, the email, your internship all lies? Your ambitions, too?” At this point, her tears flowed freely down her face. “Answer my questions!” she yelled ferociously, not minding about passersby who stopped to watch them.

Yoongi really wanted to spill everything. From the library, the connected red string, then when it disappeared, the speech, and the friendship he’d gotten from it. But his mouth was sealed. Closed with the weight of the words.

With the lack of an answer, Y/n shove her phone back into her bag. She nodded and sniffled one last time.

“You’re just like my ex. A liar. A dirty, dirty liar.” She laughed sourly. “You know what’s funny?”

Yoongi shook his head.

“The fact that my ex was right all along. You can’t make me happy.” She visibly gulped, trying to hold back her tears. “Thanks for the friendship all this time. Goodbye.”

Just like that, she left his life without a trace.

Each word coming from her mouth attacked him like bullets. And it only hurt more every time he replayed it. He liked the pain, though. He deserved it after ruining his second friendship. He deserved it after hurting his friend.

The remaining days at his current job dragged on. He couldn’t focus at all. He kept forgetting his tasks, forgetting to turn off the ACs after the classes were over, getting scolded by his supervisor.

Not to mention that he found out Y/n had blocked him on every single of his social media, effectively cutting any means of communication.

“The manager told me you’re leaving. But I don’t want you to slack off,” his supervisor once said.

He wanted to scream at his supervisor, his manager, anyone that there was a giant tear in his heart. His heart was bleeding and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. The best he could do was show up to work. But just like at the night when Y/n confronted him, his mouth was shut tight.

That same day, Namjoon visited him after his shift ended. While there was a twinkle in the leader’s eyes, Yoongi’s eyes were filled with void.

“I’m done with my research,” Namjoon said.

Yoongi sighed. He just wanted Namjoon to say whatever he had to say and leave him alone. Better if Namjoon cursed him too before he left.

“You’re actually in a good place.”

Yoongi wanted to laugh at that. Oh, the irony.

“She’s no longer your enemy. But, you're in a grey area right now. Play your cards right, and you'll find your true love. Take a step wrong, and you'll make a new enemy.”

“Look.” It was the first time he opened his mouth in front of Namjoon. “I know you’re just trying to help. But it’s too late.” He bit his bottom lip. “I already made her an enemy.”

Instead of curses, Yoongi was getting a warm, knowing smile.

“It’s to be expected, actually. Your string was attached to her, after all. I never said it was easy to make her your true love. Only that it was a possibility.”

“Then, do I still have the chance to-” He didn’t need to finish his question for Namjoon to know what he wanted to say.

“Since you’re no longer attached to her, your enemy status is not permanent.” Namjoon laughed. “So, I’d say, go for it.”

Yoongi stared at the ground in disbelief. Warmth emerged from his heart, where emptiness was once, and spreaded throughout his body.

“But she hates me,” he whispered.

“I’m not a counselor. But you might have a chance, if deep down she feels the same.”

That was the problem. He didn’t know if she felt the same.

On his last day, Yoongi was packing his stuff up from his locker, shoving it mindlessly into his old duffle bag.

His supervisor was leaning against the locker beside him with an envelope in hand.

“You’re actually leaving, huh?”

“I don’t break promises.” Yoongi zipped up his bag and closed the locker.

His supervisor handed him the envelope. “Here’s your pay. Thanks for working with us.”

With a curt smile, Yoongi accepted the money. His job here was done.

He was about to leave the perimeter of the campus, promising himself not to look back for the last time, when he heard someone shout his name. Someone he had been dying to talk to. Someone he’d be willing to break his promises for.

He turned around and came face to face with the owner of the voice.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Yoongi gestured to Y/n to talk first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain first. I was too caught up in my emotions.”

“No worries. It’s nothing compared to lying.”

“I've already come to terms with it. You were probably scared. It happens to the best of us.”

Yoongi nodded. “I was. This is better, actually. I don’t need to hide the truth anymore.”

“What were you scared of?”

He took a moment to respond. “I guess, being rejected.” It came out more like a question.

Y/n frowned. “Why would I reject you?”

“In my mind, you’re rich and amazing and perfect, basically everything a person wants to be. And because of that, I’m scared you’d think of me as being less than you.”

Y/n snorted. “I’m not perfect. My life is fucked up in its own way. I just never tell anyone about it.”

His mind reverted back to Y/n’s fight with her ex back at the library, and again at the party.

“I would never think of you less. Even if you lied to me.” Y/n flashed him a genuine smile, a sign that he had been forgiven. “Mistakes happen so we can learn from them. What’s important is that at least we acknowledge that and learn to be better.”

Yoongi nodded. He knew her words would ring in his ears for days as usual.

“May I know who took the photo?” he asked.

“My ex.”

His suspicion was confirmed. Somehow he felt even more at peace.

“He marks my face, no wonder.”

“I already told him not to mess with you again.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.” Y/n shook her head.

Y/n looked down at the duffle bag in his hand. “You’re leaving now?”

“Yeah. It’s time for me to move on with my life.” ‘And move on from you’, he added in his mind.

“Do you wanna grab ice cream for the last time? For old time’s sake?”

Y/n scooped her ice cream as she said, “Stupidly, I forgot to give you the chance to explain yourself. Again.”

Yoongi shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Y/n dropped her spoon. “It is for me. So for my sake, please explain.”

Just like that, Yoongi blurted everything out. Letting out everything that had been pulling him down. The fight at the library, the interview, and everything happened after that. Including the red string.

“Wait, red string?” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows.

“Right. You don’t believe the red string actually exists, do you? Well, I can see it.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as big as saucers. “Are you making up another lie?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the truth.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair as she snorted. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“Well, if you don’t believe me, you can ask Taehyung. You believe him, right?”

“Yeah, he’s still my friend.” She blinked her eyes repeatedly. “But what does that have anything to do with him?”

“He can see them, too. That’s how we know each other, actually.”

Y/n laughed in surprise. “I’m surrounded by crazy people.”

“We’re not crazy!” Yoongi searched for Taehyung’s contact in his phone. “Just talk to him first.”

After one ring, Taehyung picked up the call.

“Why are you calling me? I don’t want to talk to you until you’re telling her the truth.”

“I’m doing that right now, but I need your help.”

“For what?”

“Tell her about the red string, our red string, and the fact that we can see them because she doesn’t trust me.”

A shuffling sound could be heard in the background. “Okay. Give her the phone.”

During the entire phone call, Y/n was mostly nodding while saying, “Yes”, or, “Sure, or, “I understand.” Some questions were also thrown around like, “Mine was attached to Yoongi?”, and, “Mine disappeared?”

A few minutes later, the call ended and Yoongi’s phone was back in his hand.

“Wow,” that was all she said.

“So, do you believe me now?” Yoongi bit his bottom lip.

“Now I understand why you lied to me.” Y/n giggled. “Had you not lied to me, I wouldn’t come with you.”

“That was what went in my head at the time.”

“But what if I believed the red string? Or if I could see them?” Y/n teased before shoving her ice cream into her mouth.

Yoongi was stunned for a while. “I’d like to not think about that.”

Y/n laughed so loud it was etched into his head permanently.

The ice cream date could only go so long before they had to part ways and go home.

“So, this is goodbye?” he asked nervously, the duffle bag still clasped in his hands.

Y/n shook her head and smiled. “No. I believe this is a ‘see you later’.”

“See you later, then?”

“See you. When you’re famous, please have a collab with me so I can be famous, too.”

Yoongi let out a genuine laugh for the first time since the fight with Y/n.

Though parting and saying goodbye were never his forte, at least he could let out a laugh. He wouldn’t want his ‘see you later’ ruined with tears or sobs.

Not only Y/n’s laugh was stuck in his mind, the way Y/n’s hand flicked when she waved at him would also be another memory of her he treasured the most.

He swore to himself he still remembered the way to the administration office, but somehow all memories of the campus suddenly disappeared once he went past the gates.

As he was trying to recall where the administration office was, his thoughts were interrupted with a loud cheer coming from a group of girls in graduation gowns.

He frowned and stared at the group, showing his displeasure.

“Wait, Yoongi?” A girl ran away from the group and hugged him, making him stagger.

Yoongi was about to scold whoever just hugged him when his eyes landed on a familiar face. It was Y/n, his old crush.

“Y/n?” He stared at her attire. “You’re graduating?”

Y/n nodded while flashing her teeth at him. “Surprise!”

“You didn’t tell me you’re graduating.”

“Well, it’s been a year since we last met, right? It’s time for me to graduate. I’m sick of this place.” Y/n glared at him while pointing to the map he was holding. “And you didn’t tell me you’re a student here.”

“It’s only right to study here after working here.”

“Still! What about your work?”

“My boss wants me to pursue a higher education.”

“Oh, I see.” Y/n turned around to look at her friends before facing back to Yoongi. “I’m almost done with my stuff.” Her eyes glistened in mischief.

With a bored look, Yoongi asked, “What do you have in mind?”

He still remembered how outgoing Y/n was. It was something he liked about her.

“You finish whatever you need to do, then meet me at our usual spot, then we go for ice cream. What do you think?”

“Is it another celebration?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

Yoongi’s smile was enough as an answer.

[Masterlist]

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[wish-i-knew-what-i-am-doing]

4. Garden

The very first time Lena had mentioned it, it was to tell Kara she couldn’t go with her to the farmer’s market the following Saturday.

"I’m sorry darling, I-I have to tend to my garden". Curiosity picked, Kara ignored the hesitation and the pet name and went directly to the questions burning on her tongue. "You have a garden?", "Since when do you have a garden?", "Why haven’t you mentioned it before?", "I feel like as your best friend, I should have know about that".

Lena chuckled at the now pouting blonde.

"I’ve had it for several years and only a handful of people know about it. And you know the old adage, it’s good to keep some kind of mystery. Secret garden and all that." She winked at the double entendre.

"But don’t worry, maybe I’ll show it to you one day, if you play your cards right", Lena added, eyes sparkling with mirth and cheeks slightly rosier than before.

She then left it at that, not offering any more details.

Over the following days, Kara tried to broach the subject again but Lena didn’t seem too willing to share this part of herself and remained evasive. So Kara decided to drop it for now even if, deep inside, she was dying to know more.

The next time the enigmatic garden was brought up again was entirely by accident. Kara had been thinking about it. A lot. But she was being a good friend to Lena and respected her privacy, so she had buttoned her lips.

Until one morning, a bit distracted, she entered Lena’s office and noticed a simple yet elegant flower arrangement on her desk. "Oh, those are beautiful! Are they from your garden?" She asked before realising she mentioned the forbidden topic.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean -"

Lena chuckled lightly. "It’s okay, Kara", she interrupted the blonde before she could launch herself into a ramble. "And no, those are not from my garden. But I do have roses and daisies in parts of it". She said as she gently touched the petal of one of the flower in question.

Time went by and as busy as they all were, the matter slipped out of Kara’s focus. It was still resurfacing every now and then, in passing, but Kara never got any additional information about it and it didn’t bothered all that much anymore.

More time went by and the pair found themselves growing closer to each other, slowly pushing the boundaries of their friendship.

Until finally, after a lot of flirting (from Lena’s side) and a lot of blushing (from Kara’s side), the blonde finally put her big girl pants on and asked her best friend out on a date.

One date turned into two and soon the two women were exploring the new aspects the romance brought to their relationship.

On the morning after their first night together, Kara woke up fully rested, delightfully sated and entirely happy. A blinding smile spreading across her face.

It must have still been early, as the light was just beginning to shine through her windows. Lena was still asleep beside her, resting on her own belly. Kara raised her head slightly to get a better look at the (very naked) sleeping beauty lying next to her.

She noticed some dark marks on the brunette’s back. Propping herself on her elbow, Kara was then greeted with the view of an almost full back tattoo.

How had she not noticed that the night before? was Kara’s first question. She decided to blame it on eagerness and the sweet taste of Lena’s lips.

She brought up a hand to delicately trace the ink, making Lena stir. Only then did she picked up on the drawings themselves: dozens and dozens of flowers, of various shapes and sizes.

It took her a second, but then it finally clicked.

"The secret garden!", Kara gasped loudly.

That fully roused Lena, who turned around, laughing gleefully.

"I did tell you I would show it to you were you to play your cards right." She said, making Kara blush. "And I guess you have" she continued before raising a hand to bring Kara down in a heated kiss.

[thelostconsultant]

I will love you 'til the end

pairing: Mark Webber x Piastri!reader

summary: She's been with Mark for years, they're happy, but life can be cruel sometimes...

note: Based on the poll/idea of @theinsanityclause. Sorry for turning it into something bittersweet.

warnings: terminal illness, age gap

She couldn’t really tell when this thing with Mark had begun. Was it back when she started working for Red Bull? Or was it later, when her little brother joined McLaren? It was hard to tell, but honestly, sometimes she couldn’t even care. They were having fun, enjoying those secret meetings on race weekends, and going off the grid during longer breaks if they had the opportunity. Her family suspected that she had someone, but every time they asked, she rolled her eyes and told them she was chronically single. 

There was a twenty-year age gap, but who counted? As long as this worked between them, they couldn’t care less about this little detail. Why they decided to hide from the public was the fact he was Oscar’s manager. Things would surely become awkward if he found out. Her mom? She would probably accept it. But her brother? Not so much. Neither of them wanted to destroy their respective relationships with him, so it was better to stay under the radar for now. 

“What’s the deal with you and Mark?” Max asked once he plopped down next to her with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

With a sigh, she turned to him, doing her best to give him a disapproving look. “I see what you’re doing, and no, you won’t be free of the social team. We spent an entire week trying to come up with concepts you wouldn’t instantly hate, the least you can do is play nice,” she told him sternly.

But he didn’t seem to be bothered by that, he just waved his hand nonchalantly, then leaned a little closer. “I saw the way you were looking at each other. There must be something.”

“He’s my brother’s manager, we’ve known each other for a long time, that’s all. We get along, just as he gets along with everyone from my family,” she explained with a shrug.

But Max wasn’t convinced, he just rolled his eyes and rested his elbow on the back of the couch as he watched her. “Look, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t look at your family members as if he wanted to devour them on the spot. But when he looks at you? Ooooh, he’s smitten with you.” She hid her face into her hands, letting out a groan as she wondered why the Dutchman had to be so perceptive. “Hey, I’m not telling anyone, I swear.”

She believed him. Sure, Max wasn’t known for being the master of keeping secrets, but as long as no one asked him about her love life, she was safe. And so that’s how he became the only person who knew about the two of them, although they didn’t really talk about it again, but there were teasing looks he shot at her when he saw them talking in the paddock.

On Saturday evening, when she entered her hotel room feeling dead tired, all she wanted was to crawl under the blanket to snuggle up to Mark. They had always gotten key cards to each other’s rooms, so every day they agreed where to meet, and tonight it was her turn to host him for the night. But she was running late, it was way past eleven when she arrived, but he was still up, sitting on the bed as he read something on his phone. The corners of his lips curled into a loving smile when he noticed her, and she didn’t hesitate to kick off her shoes and sit down next to him. 

As she placed a kiss on his shoulder, Mark put his phone on the nightstand, then tipped her head back to finally kiss her properly, smiling at the sound of her soft moan as she moved her hand under his shirt, desperate to feel his warm skin under her fingertips. “Long day?” he asked, deliberately planning to make her talk instead of giving her what she’d been craving since their stolen kiss in the paddock earlier that day. 

It was frustrating, really, because all she wanted was being tired out in bed so she could sleep well, but now it seemed like she wasn't getting that tonight. “I missed you,” she replied eventually when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” 

She heard him gulp at this, his breath caught in his throat from the confession. This wasn’t the first time she had said that, and he already told her these words too, but lately it felt different, it was almost painful for him to hear it. It was understandable. With the number of secrets they were keeping growing all the time, it was only a matter of time before he retreated into a shell to protect himself.

“You don't have to say anything, don't feel like I was trying to pressure you,” she said quietly. 

But when he looked at her, his hazel eyes taking in every little detail of her face, she understood what this was about, and his next words confirmed her theory. “Every time you say this, it sounds like goodbye. You know how terrified I am of that day,” he told her. 

With a sad smile, she moved a little to bury her face into the crook of his neck. “Mark, that day is still far from today. Let's enjoy the time we have, okay? Don't think about this.”

“I'm just not ready to lose you, sweetheart,” he informed her as he pressed a kiss on her head, arms protectively wrapped around her frame. 

“Have you showered?” she asked him, a playful gleam in her eyes making it clear that she wanted a little more than just showering together. To her luck, he understood it, so he let her go and moved out of the bed in sync with her. But on the way to the bathroom she intercepted him by putting a hand on his stomach, then reached up to pull down his head for a kiss. “I was beginning to worry you didn’t want me anymore,” she noted as a joke. 

Mark’s hand moved from her back to her hips, looking for the hem of her Red Bull shirt to take it off her. A deep growl left his throat when he kissed her again, doing his best to show her just how wrong she was if she assumed he had gotten bored of her. During their years together, sex had never been a problem. In fact, in the beginning that’s what their relationship was based on, emotions only came into the picture after the first half a year or so. 

By the time they arrived in Baku two weeks later, things returned to normal, although this was the weekend when they had to be extra careful since her mother was there as well. But it was hard to stay away, especially after the qualifying results and the news of Mark making sure her brother’s contract couldn’t name him the second driver in the team emerging in the media. She was so proud of him for doing everything he could to support Oscar, and in all honesty, she had dozens of ways in her mind to repay for that. 

Following that fantastic win on Sunday, the Piastri family had dinner together to celebrate before the team took Oscar away, and of course he invited his manager as well, after all he was like family by now. But their mood was set before they even left her hotel, because Mark could see she wasn’t in the best shape at the moment. She was happy, he could tell, but she said she felt nauseous, which wasn’t ideal before a big family dinner. 

This was one of those nights when he had to be extra attentive, making sure she was safe, and he had his doubts about doing this right in front of her family without their secrets being revealed. “Maybe we should cancel,” he noted, his bad feeling making him say it before he could truly think about it. Her brother had just won his second race, this time without team orders casting a shadow on the result, there was no way she would miss this. But he had to try for her sake.

Just as he expected, she shook her head and told him that everything was fine, that she had this under control. She wasn’t convincing at all, but there was nothing he could do apart from being there for her. “You should go first. I’ll probably throw up one last time before heading out,” she told him. 

Mark shook his head as he stepped over to her and cupped her face to make her look at him. “You’re not going alone, don’t even think about it. If anyone asks, I was in your hotel to meet someone from Red Bull, and we decided to go together,” he said before giving her a quick kiss. “Or we could just as well say we arrived together because we are dating,” he suggested with a shrug, earning a shocked look from her. “What? Maybe it’s time we tell them the truth. It’s been years, we can’t hide forever. And you know why we should tell them sooner rather than later.”

“Oscar is celebrating today, he’s happy, let’s not ruin this,” she said. 

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head a little. “I’m not saying we should make an announcement. I would pick a… more subtle way to let them know. Just dropping hints. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice.”

She leaned forward to bury her face into his chest, arms wrapped around him as she listened to his heartbeat. Maybe he was right. Maybe it truly was time to slowly let this secret come to light. “Okay, you won. Let’s do this your way,” you said with a sigh. 

The moment they reached the entrance, Mark reached out to take her hand, lacing their fingers tightly as he navigated through the chatting crowd outside. By the time they were taken to the reserved table, Oscar and their mother were already there, deep in a conversation until they noticed them arriving. Nicole stood up and hugged her daughter as if they hadn’t met a few hours ago, but it was a nice feeling. 

But her brother remained seated, his narrowed eyes watching his manager with an inquiring look in them. There was no comment from the older man, so he turned his attention to his sister, who decided to simply ignore him. They started to talk about the race, and it seemed like they would get away with that entrance and the nonchalant touches, but as they were waiting for their desserts, Oscar put up his hand to stop the discussion. 

“Okay, what is going on? You arrive together, hand in hand if I’m not mistaken, you are clearly on the same wavelength as you finish each other’s sentences, and don’t even get me started on those meaningful looks you exchange,” he listed. 

Their mother’s lips curled into a small smile, causing Oscar to give her a questioning look, as if he was asking why she wasn’t shocked to hear that. “You’re such a smart young man, but you can be so slow sometimes,” was all she said with a laugh before turning to her daughter. “How long has it been going on? I know you were together at the beginning of this year, but… I have a feeling there’s a longer history.”

Mark looked over at his girlfriend, deciding that it would be the best if she handled this conversation for now. It was her family, after all, he didn’t want to get involved unless it became necessary. She seemed taken aback, but after gulping loudly, she nodded. “Yeah, well, it’s been about three years now. Maybe a little more,” she confirmed. “How long have you known? And how did you find out?”

“I’m not stalking you, I promise, but you disappeared in January so I checked your location. Remember? You shared it with me. And I saw you were in Mark’s house for weeks,” she explained. 

“I can’t believe it,” Oscar muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you not mad at me?” she asked her mother, once again deciding to ignore her brother. 

Nicole shook her head. “No, why would I be? You’re my daughter, if you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

“Well, not like you cared to ask, but I am not happy,” Oscar interjected with a disapproving look. “Have you considered what you got yourself into? How much older he is? Don’t get me wrong, Mark, you’re in great shape, but what will happen ten or twenty years from now?”

Her eyes softened as she reached out to take the younger Piastri’s hand. “Look, Osc, I know it’s probably a lot to take in, but I love him.” Oscar pulled his hand away and leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on her the whole time. “And we don’t need to worry about what will happen decades from now. Hell, there’s no need for a five-year plan either.”

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed her mother’s surprised look that was soon followed by a logical question. “Are you planning to break up?” she wondered out loud.

There was a heavy sigh before she looked over at Mark, trying to gain some strength from him. When he reached out to take her hand, she took a deep breath and began to explain the situation. “No, not exactly. I’m just… lucky if I’ll have another year. I’m already outliving my doctor’s original prognosis.”

Her mother and brother exchanged confused looks, asking her what doctor she was talking about. So she began to tell them everything she’s been hiding for almost a year, the diagnosis of glioblastoma on the weekend of the Las Vegas grand prix and the treatment that began with the new year, all the critical pieces of information they needed to understand the situation. It hit them hard, she could tell, but since they were in public, they both decided to do their best to keep themselves together. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your day, I’m so sorry,” she told Oscar in the end. 

He only shook his head, his eyes shining from the tears he could barely hold back at this point. “Just promise to come to the party tonight. I–I want to spend time with my sister while I can, okay?” After she nodded, his eyes turned to Mark. “So… she said her treatment started early this year, and mum said she spent weeks with you in January. Did these happen at the same time?”

“I was by her side the whole time, don’t worry. It was tough, but we got through it,” he assured his protégé. 

“But you came to that thing with me, and it took almost a week. Did you leave her alone?”

Shaking his head, Mark let out a quiet laugh. “Well, no, Max was there to entertain her.”

Oscar looked at his sister. “So you told Max, but not us?” he asked incredulously. 

She tilted her head to the side as she gave him a look of disappointment. “Trust me, that wasn’t entirely my decision. He was the one who took me to the hospital in Vegas. He didn’t leave my side until we found out what was wrong with me.”

“I’m your brother, you should have asked me to take you.”

Nicole put a hand on his shoulder, probably understanding that it hadn’t been the kind of situation when she could be picky about the driver. “Let’s just be happy she had people looking out for her. And now she has us too,” she said, flashing a warm smile at her daughter. 

At the party, Oscar decided not to leave his sister’s side. He even took the time to go out and get some fresh air with her, using this opportunity to talk. He wanted to know why she made her decisions, why she decided to hide her relationship with Mark, why she came to the conclusion that not telling them about her illness was a good idea. This was the first time in a while when they had such an honest conversation. She told him that she didn’t want his focus to shift from racing, and that she believed their mother knowing would have resulted in him finding out as well. In return he admitted that she still wasn’t fully okay with her dating his manager, but he promised to try and be understanding. 

They agreed to have a dedicated night on every race weekend when they would just hang out in his room, playing stupid games, eating a lot, and watching TV until they passed out. Oscar would have never admitted it, but ever since he was old enough to remember, he had been clinging to his sister, always begging her to read one more article from his favorite magazine, or to play one more hour with him, or to come see him race to bring him good luck. And she was always there, always supporting and protecting him, even when some stupid kids used his kindness against him. 

Long hours later, around three in the morning, she stumbled into Mark’s hotel room, not drunk, just tired, and she was surprised to see him awake at this time. When she sat on the edge of the bed next to him, he was quick to wrap his arms around her, pressing a kiss on her lips as a welcome. After everything that had happened earlier in the day, she couldn’t fight back her tears anymore, so she buried her face into his shoulder and started sobbing. He tried to soothe her, but it took quite a long time for her to calm down. 

When she finally stopped crying, he lied down and pulled her down with him, his arms still safely around her as she moved closer to him. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered to her, happy to hear her breathing slow down, giving away that she finally fell asleep. It didn’t take him long to drift off to sleep himself, moving on to a dream where everything was okay, where he didn’t have to face the harsh reality of losing her one day.