#he pours himself into everything he does and it’s effortless

[supermaks]

I was gonna shit on max bc he didn't change his helmet design but then he was explaining it soo cute and like I just can't 🥺😭

Wud u not kill for him . Be serious

[flickering-chandelier]

You Matter to Me

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: Reader is the mom friend, and she’s very good at it. While she is always taking care of everyone else, Cassian decides to be the one to take care of her. 

Based on this request! 🩷

Word Count: 2.6k

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh as you weaved your way through the dining room at the river house with Nyx on your hip, helping set up everything on the table while Rhysand and Feyre were finishing a meeting with Azriel and Amren in their study. 

“Oh, the wine!” you said suddenly. 

“Do you want me to get it?” Cassian asked. 

As he knew you would, you answered cheerfully, “Nope, I’ve got it.”

“At least let me hold the kid. I don’t want you falling down the stairs,” he said, reaching for Nyx and taking him from your arms before you could protest. 

You smiled at him before disappearing to the wine cellar. 

He was endlessly impressed by your incessant energy, never sitting down until everyone else was settled first, always the one to jump up and grab something if somebody needed it. Since you had come around, it felt like everything was always in order. 

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too much. If you were always taking care of everyone else, who would take care of you?

His attention was pulled when you glided back into the room, placing wine bottles on either side of the table, before the room filled with people, the rest of the inner circle spilling out of Rhysand’s study. 

Feyre smiled at Cassian, her arms outstretched to take Nyx. “I’m surprised she let you take him.”

“Practically had to wrestle him from her hands,” he teased, smiling at you as you sidled up next to Feyre. 

“He’s being dramatic,” you said. 

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” Feyre smiled at you. “You don’t have to take care of us all the time, you know.”

You shrugged, your eyes shining as you smiled down at Nyx. “I don’t know how to act any other way.”

Maybe we should help change that, Cassian thought. 

Cassian’s eyes were on you all throughout dinner, as you laughed with Feyre, bouncing Nyx on your lap so she could eat. He hadn’t noticed before just how many things you did for everyone else. Feyre’s glass was empty, and likely before she even noticed herself, you were smiling at her, pouring more wine. Nyx knocked Azriel’s spoon off the table and in a heartbeat, you were handing him the clean one that you hadn’t used. Cassian himself unsurprisingly required another napkin and without looking up, you were reaching to pick one up and hand it to him across the table. 

It seemed effortless, like second nature, but he knew it couldn’t have been. It must be exhausting to think about everyone else. 

As dinner came to a close, you rose from your chair, collecting plates and dirty napkins. Feyre stood up to help, and Cassian found himself doing the same. Azriel looked at him with a raised brow, and Cassian just shrugged, snatching up Az’s discarded napkin and Nyx’s floor spoon. 

He followed you into the kitchen, where you already had the sink full of water and were soaking the plates. Feyre had gone back out to collect more from the table.

You looked surprised as you noticed him. “Do you need something?” You asked. 

Cassian tried not to be offended. “No. You think I would only come talk to you if I needed something?”

He tossed the spoon into the sink behind you and threw the fistfull of napkins on the counter to be washed before turning back to you, leaning against the counter where you were, his arm nearly touching yours. “I want to help,” he said quietly. “Put me to work.”

Shrugging, you said, “No, I just… Well, what are you doing?”

You waved your hand dismissively and turned away from him, going back to the sink. “You don’t have to do that.”

“So?”

Cassian moved around you, cutting off your path. You looked up at him exasperated, and he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “Neither do you! You don’t even live here.”

“You know who does live here?” Cassian asked, moving in front of you again as you tried to side step around him. “The High Lord and High Lady. You do know they have servants, too right?”

“Servants deserve a break,” you said, finally looking up into his eyes. 

“So do you,” he murmured. Without thinking, he reached forward and brushed a piece of hair that had fallen on your forehead behind your ear. 

He heard your breath catch and warmth spread through him. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. 

Cassian smirked again. “See? You know I’m right. Put me to work.”

You blinked, then rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you said, “Fine. Can you grab the rest of the napkins from the table?”

He gladly did as you asked. 

---

From that day, Cassian made it his mission to be the one looking after you. 

Not that he would let you know that, of course. He tried to be stealthy about it, so you wouldn’t shut down the whole operation. 

Most of the normal group was outside at the river house, enjoying the warm summer day. Cassian sidled up next to you as you were talking to Feyre and handed you a glass of lemonade. 

“Oh!” you said, surprised, but clearly pleased. “Thank you.”

It looked like you had needed it too, because not long after, your glass was empty. Cassian broke off the conversation that he was having with Azriel and wandered over to you casually, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Having a good day?” He asked, pulling the glass from your hand as you smiled up at him. 

“I am.”

“Glad to hear it,” he beamed, before heading back into the house and filling the glass up again. 

When he returned with it, you raised your eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

Cassian furrowed his brow as he passed you the lemonade. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, like you were studying him, but you brushed it off. “Nevermind. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. “Really.”

---

Cassian was acting weird. 

Feyre had been your best friend for years, and you were pretty sure Cassian had talked to you more in the last few weeks than in all of the previous years combined. 

You could feel his eyes on you often, and he was popping up next to you seemingly constantly, refilling your drink or handing you a snack from the kitchen. He even seemed to know which snacks and drinks were your favorites, though you weren’t sure how he would have figured that out. 

It was sweet, you supposed. If you really let yourself stop to think about it, you were willing to admit that it was nice to be taken care of a little for once. You got so busy looking after everybody else, you truly couldn’t remember the last time somebody had cared to pay attention to what you needed. 

But, at the same time, you felt a little bad, and you couldn’t understand why on earth Cassian suddenly cared so much. 

Cassian himself interrupted your thoughts, coming up behind you and wrapping a shawl around your shoulders. You realized that you were holding your arms together over your stomach, shielding yourself from the evening wind. 

You raised an eyebrow at him in question. 

“What?” he smiled, his hands lingering for another moment on your shoulders. “You were shivering.”

“Was I, really?” You asked, surprised. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He leveled you with a remarkably serious expression, considering how easy going he always was. The two of you were back towards the river house, away from the rest of the group who were gathered in clumps around the rest of the yard, laughing and drinking. 

“How do you always notice what other people need, but you give no thought to yourself?” He asked, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. 

You grappled for an answer, feeling slightly paralyzed under his gaze. “I don’t know,” you finally said honestly.

Cassian offered you a sad smile, taking your hand in his and squeezing it briefly. “You hungry?” 

You laughed. “A little, I guess?”

He smirked, nodding his head to the house, then pulling you forward by the hand. 

The two of you reached the massive kitchen. You started rifling through the pantry and Cassian placed his hands on your hips, pulling you back against his chest. 

You embarrassingly let out a squeak of surprise. “What are you doing?” You asked, trying to twist around to look at him, but he pushed you toward the counter, spun you around and lifted you to sit on it. 

He grinned, his hands still on your hips as you gaped at him. His eyes were locked on yours, and you felt your heart racing, but you were trying desperately to not let him see it.  

“Stay,” he commanded teasingly as he finally stepped away, but you knew he meant it. 

As he rummaged through the kitchen, you tried to steady your breathing. You had to admit, you had been thinking about Cassian a lot more often lately. And that… what he just did… that would not help matters. 

By the time Cassian was back towering over you, you felt more normal. He presented your favorite snack with a smile. 

You took it, thanking him. He hopped up on the counter next to you, his shoulder brushing yours.

After eating in silence for a few moments, you turned to him. “How did you know this is my favorite?”

He shrugged, turning his smile on you. You tried to ignore the way that your heart melted. “I pay attention.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

Cassian seemed to contemplate for a moment, his easy smile gone. He finally looked back to you, his eyes smoldering, and said, “You matter to me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he gazed at you, your cheeks warming, and you unfortunately could not think of a single thing to say. 

Suddenly, footsteps were coming toward you and the trance was broken as you looked toward the door to find Feyre striding into the kitchen. 

She looked surprised to see the two of you sitting together, and you knew her well enough to understand what her answering smile meant. 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, hopped off the counter, quickly thanked Cassian, and retreated back outside. 

---

Your mind had been reeling with thoughts of Cassian for days. Something in the air felt different between you in that kitchen, but you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. 

A loud knock on your door roused you from your ever spiraling thoughts. 

Cassian was grinning as you opened your apartment door, holding a bag of food out to you. “I hope you didn’t have lunch plans.”

You gaped at him. “You’re feeding me in my own house now?”

“I thought I’d mix things up a little bit,” he said, nodding his head inside. “So, are you going to let me in?”

After studying him for another moment, you stepped aside. He walked right past you, going to the kitchen table and spreading the food over its surface. 

Giving in, you went to your cabinet to get cups and plates, but Cassian stilled you with his hands on your hips once again. “No, you don’t.”

“Cassian,” you huffed as he pulled you back toward the table. “You don’t even know where anything is!”

He pushed your shoulders down lightly until you were sitting in a chair. “You can point, can’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “This feels excessive.”

“I disagree,” he winked at you before going to the cabinet that you were just at, pulling down a few plates, then placing them on the table. 

“Cups?” he asked. 

Sighing, you pointed to another cabinet and he went to it, jovially pulling glasses out and filling them with water. 

Within a few minutes, Cassian was piling food onto your plate, watching you intently as he ate from his own. 

“What is going on with you?” You asked. 

Casually, he said, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! Why have you been hovering around, feeding me, bringing me jackets?”

The side of his mouth turned up into a lopsided grin. “Do you want me to stop?”

The question was not what you were expecting. You weren’t sure that you were willing to admit to him how much he had been affecting you yet. You sat back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Answer my question.”

His smile only grew. “Answer mine.”

You raised an eyebrow, determined. “I asked first.”

Cassian laughed. “Okay, fine.”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him, his eyes fixed on you. “You really want to know the truth?”

You nodded, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on his. 

His teasing demeanor dropped, his expression suddenly serious. “I was watching you at dinner with everyone a few weeks ago. And you were running around, taking care of everybody else the entire night. It was like you didn’t even think about it. It’s amazing how you can do that, and I know that everyone around you is thankful for it. But…” he hesitated, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “But, it also made me sad. I started wondering if anybody ever took care of you. And I figured I could be that person.”

You had to take a deep breath, your mind reeling. 

When you were silent for a few more moments, Cassian continued. “You don’t have to take care of everybody, you know. You can slow down. You can relax, and let someone else help you out, too.” He smiled slightly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to show you.”

Something seemed to snap in you then. You hadn’t even realized how badly you had been wanting someone to help you, to pay attention to you, to take care of you for once. The fact that Cassian had noticed even before you did how badly you needed someone to be there for you made it even more unbelievable. 

Your feet seemed to move without your brain’s permission, stepping right up to Cassian, cupping his face in your hands, and kissing him. 

Cassian responded immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you to sit on his lap. He weaved his hands through your hair, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin at your waist where your shirt had ridden up the slightest bit. 

His lips trailed down your neck, and he murmured, “You never answered my question.” 

“Don’t stop,” you panted. 

He chuckled into your neck before kissing you on the lips again. “Don’t stop kissing you? Or don’t stop taking care of you?”

“Both,” you smiled, taking his face in your hands and kissing him again. 

“You got it,” Cassian smiled against your mouth. 

After a few moments, you pulled back, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb. “Thank you, Cassian. Really,” you said quietly. 

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t even realize how badly I wanted someone else to watch out for me for once.”

Cassian kissed you gently. “I’m here for you now. Whatever you need. Whether you know it or not.”

You smiled, nuzzling into his neck, hardly believing it. 

---

It took some time, but you eventually became more used to Cassian’s eyes on you, to not be shocked when he handed you a plate of food or washed the dishes for you. 

You were still very much the mom friend who took care of everything, as it was in your nature. But you now knew that you had someone looking after you, too. And you couldn’t be more thankful, as Cassian sidled up to you, kissing you on the temple and handing you a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” you beamed. 

Cassian wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a kiss. “Anytime.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @marina468 @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @azrielshadows1nger @andreperez11

[tteokdoroki]

happy valentine's day!! thank you so much for your lovely writings ❤️❤️ may i swipe spicy (breeding kink :3) for nagi + ring? thank you again!! i hope i'm doing this right ;-;

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SEISHIRO NAGI. swipe spicy: bound forever.

about. boom, it’s a match! after a perfect proposal, nagi decides to make you his forever in a more sinful way ( 2.3K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, characters aged up to 20s, established relationships, engagements, light choking, cum play, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pro player!nagi, fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

seishiro nagi is effortlessly good at everything. 

with his friends — his aloof charm and easygoing nature is enough to keep them entertained. they don’t find his shy and laidback nature too off-putting or boring. with soccer, his talent is natural — born from nothing but a spark of interest. when he’d first started, nagi was a level above the rest without any of the extra hard work and training…but he’d craved to be better, to win above everyone else. so, at times, soccer was worth the hassle.

and with you, well, being with you was as easy as breathing air. 

effortless is exactly the word the white haired striker would use to describe his relationship with you. on good days and bad, you and nagi fit together like perfectly made pieces of a puzzle. there’s something about the way that you love him, that motivates nagi to push himself past his limits. he’s better because of you, wants to be better for you — always. there is no feeling of hassle or tiredness when it comes to making you happy, your laughter fills nagi with life and a passion akin to what he feels whenever he’s on the pitch.

seishiro has no idea what it is about you that made him this way. but what he does know now is that he can’t live with you — the way you smile at him, hold him, love him, kiss him. it’s something he can’t bare to be without now that he’s tasted what it’s like to live life with you by his side. that’s why he finds the courage to propose to you on Valentine’s Day — uncharacteristically serious and nervous as he sinks down onto one knee in the cosy corner of that restaurant you like. 

what if you reject him? what if you say no? bringing back the ring would be a hassle but the thought of losing you is even worse…

though, when you realise what’s going on and your eyes light up with such undiluted love and adoration — the words of little speech nagi had prepared for this moment slip from him easily as if he had been born to ask you to marry him. to be with you forever. and now, for the rest of your lives — you will always be his and seishiro nagi will always be yours. 

a promise that is commemorated with the biggest and most blinding diamond ring nagi’s hefty soccer player paycheck can buy. 

romantic dinner plans were quickly thrown out of the window as soon as your engagement ring took residence on its rightful finger. after ringing up the bill and abandoning your half-finished meals, the both of you find yourselves stumbling home to celebrate the beginning of forever. your movements are frenzied and fuelled by the high of your engagement as you make it over the threshold, hands tugging and tearing at the fancy clothes inconveniently in the way while your lips meet in passionate, ravenous kisses — your tongue running over nagi’s pearly white teeth as he pours hungry moans and love and adoration into you.

“sei—!” you whimper, soft and needy as your back hits the wall behind you. your newfound fiancé uses the entirety of his strength and height to lift you into his arms, wrapping your thighs around his slender waist whilst his hips pin you to the cold surface. lines between love and lust are quickly blurred when the heavy outline of nagi’s dick presses against the treasure hidden between your perfectly plush thighs — your dress pushed up just enough to reveal them to greedy cool-tone grey eyes. “seishiro…mph, i love you…”

“y’love me, angel?” the striker’s entire body trembles with pride at the way you call his name, keening into his closeness and the way that he towers over you. your fingers rake through his silvering hair, the band of your diamond ring icy on the back of his neck as you tug him even closer as though his proximity is not enough. “s’that why you’re gonna marry me? let me…fuck, let me have you forever?” nagi coos his sinfully words quietly, tucking his face into the alcove between your neck and shoulder — kiss swollen lips dragging over your heated flesh and fluffy white lashes fluttering against the spot as well. 

you’re so soft, so warm underneath him and nagi can hardly resist the siren’s call of your body — ripe and fresh for the taking, much like the fruit in adam and eve’s garden. he can’t help his innate desire to take you, and it’s just a little bit frustrating. 

his dick pulsates behind the layers of boxers and slacks, desperate to be sheathed within your silken walls. and in response, you clench around nagi’s tip through your thin cotton panties almost as if you’re coaxing him into making love to you. right here, right now. each time he drags his hips back and forth, slow and steady, against you, your thighs tighten their grip around his waist and your body twitches to life in seishiro’s hold. his chubby erection, leaky and hard, slides through your panty clad folds at your sensual bump and grind, only adding to your exertion. 

“‘m gonna keep you as mine...” blood rushes through seishiro’s ears and shoots through the rest of his lean body, carrying adrenaline and lust hormones via the red blood cells teaming under the surface of his skin. he needs you, he can hear how much you need him too. it’s evident in the way you gasp and mewl out for him — your own body following your fiancé’s lead. 

“uh huh, wanna be yours…” the tail end of your words fall away into a whistle tone whine, layering over the sound of a clinking belt and shuffling dress pants which give nagi the room to pull his girthy cock out. 

he noses his way up the side of your face, breathing growing erratic and unstable against your ear as he positions himself at your quivering entrance — sliding into you with very little resistance. “ngh…so t-tight, angel. can’t…can’t wait t’be the only one who gets to fuck you open for the rest of our lives.” seishiro sighs dreamily. his hips jut upwards, filling you up with his milky cock in one swift movement. you stretch around him deliciously, walls rippling around him to accommodate for his size — despite having been taken like this many times before. “don’t…don’t clench down on me like that. s’not fair, you’re gonna milk me ‘n we’ve barely fuck started.” 

the white haired player stutters with both his words and his hips — struggling to set a steady rhythm to the way he grinds into you. like that of a wet dog slipping into his rut. sometimes nagi thinks he’s being selfish, snapping a girl like you up and making you his for the keeping…but it’s times like this — where your cunt squeezes down on his seedy cockhead every time it pulls out of you — that nagi is reminded of his ego. the selfishness that’s been born into him with every play on the field and every precise, lax movement he makes to help you reach cloud nine. 

he can’t stop running his mouth, lustful and debauched gibberish slipping and sliding over his wet tongue as he builds up the momentum behind the forceful juts of his hips into yours. “unless that’s what you want, yeah pretty girl?” seishiro continues to grunt even when the length of his creamy cock slips out of you, running through your puffy folds. “f’me to knock you up… make you take all of my cum.”  your dainty fingers reach down between the slow rolls of your body to push him back in, sending a shudder down your fiancé’s spine. 

no matter how many times you touch him, fuck him, love him… he will never get used to having you wrapped around him like this. dripping so sweetly down his heavy balls. “make you even warmer in here… s’warm and wet all for me. ‘m so lucky. you’re so good.” 

a symphony of wet slaps from skin on skin echo throughout the hallway of your apartment — for every slothful plunge of nagi’s sloppy, seedy dick against your gooey and sensitive insides reverberates in the heated buzzing between your heated and temperate bodies. nagi, and all 190cm of him, curls over you protectively — lips tacked to yours as he chases your sluice, salacious pussy for more than you can give him. an impossible closeness that he craves now that you’ve agreed to marry him. 

it’s ungodly how much control you and the ring on your finger have over him — reducing the mighty, notoriously undefeatable striker to a drenched, sweaty and sex-driven mess. “i want you inside…” pressing his forehead to your own weakly, nagi’s white hair sticks to your skin and his hot, heaving breath coasts over your cherry-bitten cupid’s bow as you speak — dampening the surface. “need you to cum inside, sei. m-make me yours…please!” 

all the striker does is moan low and sexy in response, the husky sound sending thunder-strikes of dopamine across your loved-up brain. all he can think about is breeding you, stuffing you full with so much cum and so much of him that you can’t walk for days. impulsively his hips twitch upwards rapidly,  so fast that your eyes disappear into the dark depths of your skull and nagi’s cockhead bears down on that needy, spongy little spot inside of you. 

everything grows wetter, hotter and nastier. amidst your surprise from the uptick in your fiancé’s usually languid pace, your fingertips on your right hand sink into the broad expanse of his back while your left ( the one with the ring )  suddenly ensnares the colum of nagi’s throat — pulling him down so that your faves are only a breaths width apart. the cooler press of your engagement ban against his feverish skin only eggs him on, driving the pro soccer player to pursue the intoxicating squelch of your count around his thick base, a white mixture beginning to foam there from how vigorously you’re fucking each other.

nagi is loving and lazy, but greedy when it comes to you. he plans to be that way forever, if it means he can witness the look of delirium on your face whenever he has you fucked out like this. and you’re the same, a perfect match, bucking into him as though to match his strong pace — so that you both can see stars and reach new heights of insanity together. 

you’re overwhelmed, the both of you are. senses being worked into overdrive from the way nagi’s cock shines each time he pulls out of your snugg, wet sex to the way that your needy gripes and laments harmonise into the night. “g-god angel, ‘m gonna cum…g’na let go inside’a you…fill you up,” seishiro rambles in warning, losing his rhythm and tripping over his words. he could cream your cunt right now, selfishly reach his high before yours — but nagi loves you; loves the feel of your diamond engagement ring cutting into his cheek when you move to cup his face through the final moments. “spread your legs a little more f’me, ‘m gonna touch you…”

so instead, he pulls back the hood your clit with the hand on the arm that keeps you steady against the wall, and burns the letters of his name into the puffy nub. “‘hmygod, s-sei!” you squeal at the new found pleasure, groping at your man as your head falls back against the wall. it begins to creak under the pressure of sex, tinging nagi’s skin a soft pink while his dick throbs in the warm hug of your addictive walls. “‘m close!” 

“i-i know pretty thing, i know,” spreading the filthy mix of your arousals over your slit while he pumps in and out of you lewdly, nagi whimpers your name loud and proud. everything is so messy, so fucking raw, his shaft is doused in an opaque white that clings to the oretty blue veins spiralling around his cock while your mound seeps and weeps a wetness only he can bring out of you. “you gonna cum? you g’na cum f’me baby? drip d-down my cock…let me cum in you after?” the pitch of nagi’s moans rise in octave until they’re enough to rival your open-mouthed bleats. 

“y-yes! please sei, p-please!” fat droplets of precum and your juices along between your bodies and crudely drip to the floor, and it’s not long before the tickle at the base of your spine becomes a bright spark — your orgasm breaking dawn first. 

waves of your precious nectrar and liquid gold gush from your fluttering entrance before you even realise it — so fast it almost forces the white haired striker out of you. “y-yeah, yeah, yeah…fuck! that’s it angel, c-cum all over me…” nagi’s cock never relents, bullies it’s way through your blistering hot walls to nudge at  your g-spot all throughout the ordeal while the world of colours flashes behind your eyes. 

you’re such a good girl, you’ll be such a good wife — letting nagi use you and continue to canter into you until your rippling cunt push him over the edge into his own high. “c-cumming!” he gasps as if he’s taken a bullet to the chest, thrusting into you as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do — intent on keeping you bred and full. seishrio’s load pours into you like a never ending stream of thick white, warm and viscous as it coats your mound copiously. painting you in his claim. 

he doesn’t budge even as you both fall back down to earth from your heavenly highs — making sure that not a drop of his cum is wasted on anything else except for you. a lazy giggle escapes you as your hand slinks down from nagi’s cheek to his plush lips, leaving a pink-ish (yet pain free) mark from your ring on his cheek. 

“i love you, sei,” you whisper in tired amusement as he kisses the ring on your finger.

seishiro hums happily, squeezing your thighs in his hold. “i love you back, forever ‘n always, angel.” 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sugar and Spice and Everything… Sooty

Raya races all the way up the ladder, her breath staggering in her lungs like a hellhound set on a bedevilled chase. She leans against the door, lips parting for the sharp and successive breaths to leave her system, her arms firmly curling over the heavy crate of alcohol she’s managed to swipe from the kitchen.

A heavy quake stammers across the surface of the crate, vibrations pulsing through the glass bottles like a fissure ready to spill. Almost unwillingly, she cranes her neck downwards to the mysterious assault, and when she realises the source of the ruckus, her lips fold into a heavy grimace.

Across the surface of the box lies the shattered remnants of Kikoku, humming and shuddering in such a startlingly low pitch, that its voice could raise devil spawn to grace human land.

Fuck, she hisses to herself. What has she gotten herself into?

Through the brown strands of her windswept hair, her eyes pierce down at Roronoa who reluctantly grabs the ladder by his firm hands as he heaves himself forward.

This is all his fault, she thinks to herself - a thought she finds herself repeating more and more often as a source of respite.

“I don’t get what you want me to do,” he grumbles out, a tied bottle of sake dangling from in between his teeth. His feet smoothly trace along the next ledge of the ladder. “I don’t know how to make swords. I don’t know how to -”

“Don’t try to weasel your way out of this, Roronoa. You’re guarding me,” Raya instantly replies, leaning over the high ledge of the crow’s nest. Her eyes briefly scan through the crowd of pirates, impatient fingers fumbling over the bannister like a worried mother.

“Guard?” Zoro immediately bursts into a scoff. He climbs the last ledge with one effortless leap, his boots creaking against the wooden panels of the floor. “You’re actually being serious?”

Raya doesn’t look at him - instead, she squints her eyes even harder, trying to filter through the mass of drunken moving bodies. “Look – he’s there.”

You subtly nudge your head downwards to a certain narrow-eyed pirate’s direction. Thankfully, after begging for Nami’s help to keep him distracted, it seems like he’s actually starting to loosen up. You notice there’s a beer curled within his inked fingers, and every so often he lifts that same bottle up to his lips, liquid pouring into his mouth with a sharp swig.

Into a smiling mouth, to be precise.

Raya gapes at him a little, and despite the hellish circumstance she’s in, a little grin appears on her lips as she takes in his countenance.

He’s actually been smiling for more than two seconds so far – isn’t that some sort of new record for Law or what? Raya thinks to herself.

"Look, he's all tipsy right now," she explains, turning back to face Zoro with a frown reserved only for the likes of him. "But we both know he'll snap out of it soon enough. And when he does, he's going to climb all the way up here and beat both our asses up. You're here to make sure he doesn't catch us off guard."

Zoro stares at her, clearly unimpressed with his designated role. "So, I'm the one who has to deal with his whining while you get to…?"

Raya stares back at him, clearly unimpressed with his reaction. “Roronoa, I’m fixing the goddamn sword you fell on. You guarding me sounds like a walk in the park compared to what I have to do.”

And for a moment, they’re locked in a silent staring contest.

Raya's eyes are narrowed in determination, her gaze like twin laser beams boring into Zoro's skull. She looks like a furious wet cat ready to swipe her paws at the source of her irritation - or maybe more like a stubborn toddler refusing to back down from a standoff with a particularly dead statue.

Zoro, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to channel his inner rock, his expression stony and unyielding. But there’s a twitch in his eyebrow, a hint of something dancing in his eyes, as if he’s secretly enjoying this absurd standoff with her.

But just when it seems like the silence might go on forever, a small, involuntary twitch at the corner of Zoro's mouth gives him away. Raya catches it immediately and can’t help but smirk triumphantly, knowing she’s won this round.

"Glad you agree," she replies, her voice laced with sarcasm. She throws him a bottle of beer, flipping her hair in his face.

With an irritated grunt and a shuffle away, Zoro instinctively catches the bottle and takes a long swig, his gaze fixed on Law as he monitors his movements. For a while, the two of them stand in silence, the only sounds being the distant ruckus of music and voices and the gentle creaking of the ship blending beneath them.

“Whatever. Let’s go inside before he sees us fucking around up here,” he murmurs. And with a swift spin and snatch, the crates of clinking alcohol disappear from Raya’s arms and into the swordsman’s. While he casually strides into the crow’s nest. Raya remains standing there blinking stupidly, completely taken off guard by his quick-handed thievery.

With that, the realisation rises, a growl set on her face as she stomps after Zoro, hot on his heels.

“Don’t forget we’re sharing those!” she hisses.

In response, the swordsman rolls his eyes but doesn't protest, knowing that arguing with Raya will only prolong their time on deck where they risk being spotted by Law. He sets the crates down with a thud, and they both settle into a comfortable silence as they crack open the bottles and down their drinks.

Zoro’s expression is unreadable as he surveys the mess before him. "So, what's the plan?" he asks, his voice gruff but curious.

Raya sighs, running a hand through her thick hair as she tries to gather her thoughts. "First, I need to assess the damage," she says, leaning her elbows over the table above the broken sword. "Then… I guess I’ll get cooking…"

Zoro nods, leaning on the table beside her as he examines the poor mess of Kikoku. The once formidable blade lies in pieces before them, the jagged edges reflecting the dim light of the lanterns overhead.

"Well, it's definitely broken," Zoro says straight-faced.

"Thanks for that insightful observation," Raya snaps, reaching for one of the broken pieces of the sword. “Really, what would I do without your thought-provoking commentary, Roronoa?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” He retorts, laying lazily against one of her stools. “I’m trapped in here, doing fuck-all.”

Raya looks at him indifferently and shrugs. “Sleep?”

“I’m not tired, I’m bored.”

Raya smirks, a sudden mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. Whatever idea she’s cooked up is getting her excited, with the way her teeth are gleaming in their full glory.

"Weeeell, lucky for you, I've got just the thing to cure your boredom," she says, reaching under the table and pulling out a tattered colouring book and a handful of crayons. She sets them on the table in front of Zoro with a playful grin. "Try this. I'm sure Chopper won't mind if you borrow it for a bit."

Zoro eyes the colouring supplies sceptically, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he mutters, picking up one of the crayons and turning it over in his hand. Raya offers him a shit-eating grin when he raises an eyebrow at her.

 "Come on, it'll be fun!" she urges, nudging the colouring book closer to him, repeatedly pushing it into his elbow like prodding a wad of lettuce on a stick to an unimpressed tiger. "And who knows, maybe you'll discover a hidden passion for art."

Zoro hesitates for a moment, then sighs dejectedly and takes the crayon, flipping open the colouring book to a random page.

"You’re gonna be the end of me," he mutters, leaning back in his chair and starting to colour in a picture of a pirate ship.

Raya watches with amusement as Zoro tentatively starts colouring - his movements, cautious at first before he gradually gains confidence, his strokes becoming bolder and more deliberate. She can't help but snicker at the sight, finding it oddly endearing to see the idiot swordsman engaging in such a seemingly childish activity.

For a while, they work in companionable silence, the only sounds being the scratching of crayons against paper, the clinking of metal and the occasional chug of beer as they take breaks to de-sober themselves. Raya finds herself relaxing as she focuses on the task at hand, the tension of the earlier confrontation with Law fading into the background.

But as they work, she can't shake the feeling of Kikoku's presence beside her, the broken pieces of the sword humming with a furious energy that seems to seep into the air around them. Raya glances at the shattered remains of the once formidable blade, a frown tugging at her lips as she tries to make sense of the strange sensation.

Kikoku seems to be muttering to her, the fragments of the sword vibrating with an intensity that sends a shiver down Raya's spine. She strains to make out the words, but they're muffled and indistinct like whispers carried on the wind.

"Kikoku, what are you saying?" Raya murmurs, reaching out to touch one of the broken pieces of the sword.

In immediate response, Kikoku screeches from underneath her fingertips, making Raya flinch her hand away in shock.

‘What do you fucking think, you incompetent excuse of a human being?’ It screams in Raya’s head, rattling her very bones in her body.

Raya clenches her teeth, anxiously running a hand through her hair. "I’m sorry, Kikoku. I really am. I don’t know how it all… If you let me, I promise I’ll be able to fix you."

Kikoku hums angrily in response, the vibrations of her broken body resonating against the desk. It swirls around on the wooden surface, almost trying to will itself to spiral around into a flurry of blades.

‘Not enough. I seek for revenge. Not enough. Not enough.’

"Kikoku, please," Raya pleads softly, her voice laced with desperation. "I understand that you're angry, but I can fix you. Let me help you.”

Again, the sword vibrates with an almost manic energy, its broken edges glinting ominously in the dim light of the lanterns.

"I’ll find a way to make things even, I promise," Raya continues, her voice tinged with determination. "But for now, I have to focus on fixing you. Once you're whole again, we can figure out what to do next."

‘What are you planning, human?’ she spits, her voice sharp and demanding. ‘Let me listen to your pathetic attempt at salvaging my trust.’

The swordsmith takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what comes next. "First, I need to assess the extent of your damage," she says, reaching for another piece of the broken sword. "Then, I'll figure out a way to repair you. And if that's not enough... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Kikoku's response was a begrudging silence, the vibrations of her broken pieces slowly starting to calm. Raya took it as a small victory, a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

Raya offers a tentative smile to the sword. “I won’t let you down.”

Hours pass in a blur as Raya meticulously fits the broken pieces of Kikoku back together, her hands steady despite the weight of the task. It's slow progress, but with each piece she adds, she can feel Kikoku's energy shifting, becoming less volatile and more... resigned.

"I'm sorry," Zoro blurts out suddenly, the words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them, his voice slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol in his system.

Raya’s head snaps up, surprise flickering in her eyes as she meets Zoro’s gaze. Her fingers pause in the momentum of her work, work now being the last thing on her mind.

 "I… For what?" She mutters out.

Zoro leans over the table, his fingers gently spinning the bottle around in his hands.

"For...for breaking the sword," Zoro admits, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to...I mean, I know that doesn't excuse what happened, but I just...I'm sorry."

Raya pauses, taken aback by the unexpected apology. She stares at Zoro, seeing the sincerity in his eyes despite the haze of alcohol clouding his judgment.

His lone grey eye remains steadfast on her, and although he tries his best to mask himself into indifference, a flicker of something breaks through when Raya really looks at him with her soft brown eyes.

Something breaks within him – or more so, something loosens up within him, and his control over himself - albeit hanging on by fragile and intoxicated threads - has finally been torn apart.

Raya doesn’t know why, but her breath catches in her throat when he does this. When he really looks at her. With that grey eye, intense and relentless with feeling.

In a panic, she immediately disengages from the stare and looks down to her lap, one hand fumbling with a hammer, the other shrouded in a red-hot flame for blade-tempering.

For a moment, silence envelops them, broken only by the faint sound of their breathing and the occasional crackle of flames from Raya's hand. She's not used to hearing such sincerity from him, especially not when it comes to admitting fault. It catches her off guard, leaving her at a loss for how to respond… and now, she doesn’t know what to do.

Instead, she focuses on the task at hand, the broken pieces of Kikoku spread out before her like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her hands as she reaches for another piece of the sword.

"It's... I know, Roronoa," Raya finally manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She can feel the warmth of Zoro's gaze on her, his silent offer of forgiveness hanging in the air.

Raya can’t control it any longer. She has to look up at him again, and when she does, her warm brown eyes latch onto his enraptured gaze with such ease, with such naturalness.

And then, Zoro’s stare softens.

Raya doesn’t even recognise this… look on the swordsman, this out-of-place soft glint that consumes his face, like he’s finally uncoiled his hands from the tight reins of his self-restraint.

Zoro doesn’t know what else there is to say. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel at this moment, either. But in his drunken courage, his hand acts out of its own will, lifting up and away from his bottle as his eyes flicker down to her mouth.

Raya’s breath halts as she remains still. Her own senses have vanished away, along with her train of thoughts, and all she wants to do is to lean into his hand.

And they do. Zoro’s fingers press against her jaw, deftly lifting her chin up. He makes her stare straight at him with no room to escape. And Raya is completely breathless. She gives in to the pressure of his fingers, blinking at him curiously, observing the all-consuming focus on his face. His eye flickers down from her gaze to her mouth, his thumb laying idly only a few millimetres away from her skin.

And with no thought in those eyes, his thumb reaches and presses to the corner of her lips, swiping in one circular movement. For a moment, Raya’s lost in the intensity of Zoro's gaze, the heat of his touch lingering on her skin like a brand.

A subtle breath releases from his lips when he touches the corner of her mouth.

He moves his thumb again, unsatisfied with the singular touch, now placing it ever-so softly over Raya’s lips. He looks at her in the eyes, his gaze darkening and unwavering, as he brushes his thumb over her mouth, parting them ever so slightly, so softly, so slowly.

But then, as quickly as it came, the moment passes. Zoro pulls away, his expression once again hardened into a mask of indifference. He picks up his bottle, taking a long swig of sake as if to wash away the lingering traces of emotion.

He shows his thumb to you, a layer of dark black powder coating his skin.

“You had soot on your face,” he mutters out roughly.

Raya blinks in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest as she processes what just happened. She can still feel the lingering warmth of Zoro's touch on her lips, the ghost of his thumb brushing against her skin, the heat of his breath hitting her skin.

And for a moment, she's at a loss for words, her mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. She looks up at Zoro, her gaze searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling, but Zoro's expression remains impassive. His eye remains unreadable as he wipes the soot from his thumb with a nonchalant air - it's as if the moment never happened, as if he's already moved on from whatever fleeting emotion prompted his actions.

She swallows hard, trying to push down the heat that surges within her. She knows that she should say something, to retort back with a typical Raya joke or simply say something really sarcastic, but all of the tricks in her conversational mind die right at the tip of her tongue, right at the entrance of where his fingers were laying against only a few moments ago.

But before she can do anything – to recover any tiny piece of dignity that still remains within her, a sudden crash from outside the crow's nest shatters the moment, sending them both scrambling to the porthole with hushed breaths.

As they silently peer into the window, they’re met with the sight of Law stumbling towards the door, his movements erratic and unsteady, a wild look in his eyes.

"Shit," Raya curses under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "He’s early."

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

oh just found it! https://twitter.com/gingerol95/status/1123723264591790081?s=20

the other members know how jimin becomes the main attraction in america and on other continents. no one can deny it and they also know how powerful he is, which is why i don't really get why they and their label underestimate him. jimin has been proving himself time and time again

Of course they know. When Jimmy Fallon said to their faces that Jimin was his favorite, Namjoon just shrugged and said "it's okay, we understand" and laughed. And that's just one of the examples I can think of right now. Everytime they've been to the US, the attention was on Jimin and I can't even say he asked for it, the hosts interviewers etc were the ones to put the attention on him. Like the GMA lady asking Jungkook if Jimin was there, or that guy in the variety (?) magazine as well.

I actually think the Harry comparisons in terms of who's more "popular" or who's the "breakout" member are funny because I was there for all of the years one direction were together, and the most similar case to Harry in BTS is... Jimin.

I never talked about this or brought it up because those comparisons don't mean anything to me. I mean, I get where people are coming from and their intentions when comparing, but it doesn't really elicit any emotional response from me, if that makes sense. Same goes for the Michael Jackson comparisons, I think I understand the parallels but the honest to God truth is that I was a toddler when MJ was famous, and I don't really know what he inspired in people because I just didn't live through that and nobody in my family was a fan either.

But I'll say it now only once, as someone who was there for one direction, the closest to what Harry was, it's always been Jimin. The reactions they get from people when they were in red carpets, the online "virality", reactions to them on stage, being known by people who weren't fans, being loved and singled out by TV show hosts everywhere, women in the industry choosing them. Even their ways of navigating their private lives are similar, because Harry is not really on social media either and nobody sees him that much.

More than anything, it's the dedication they put into what they do. The exciting performances, even though Harry doesn't dance people are never bored with his shows. He's engaging and has high energy. Communication skills, the ability to reach people, the overflowing, effortless charisma just pouring out.

I've specially been noticing the similarities in their work ethic; you can love him or hate him, but Harry is so serious about his music. And I mean it, he's so so serious. He lives for what he does. He has a hand on everything, all the music is his and all the ideas are his. He works a lot. Jimin is no different in that sense.

I just noticed this now because people have been bringing up Harry so much lately that I ended up thinking about it, but never before I've had any reason to think about all that.

I don't believe for one second that the company is underestimating him. They're simply and plainly purposefully trying to bring him down. For what reason exactly, I don't know. But it's not that they aren't aware of the reactions and the support that Jimin inspires from people; they just don't care. They care more about the members that are using their "infrastructure" and "tools", rather than the one who's simply being himself.

[pestilight]

     The hero will not make it.

     Rauru pours every scintilla of light he has left into those grievous wounds. He presses it all into the wrist he's yet to let go of since that fateful clasp, a wellspring funnelled through the anchoring point of their contact. So tremendous an effort is it that another piece of his arm crumbles, quicker to decay without the blessing of Zonai blood nor heart nor stone, peeling off and fading into nothing within strands of dispelled radiance.

     Still, it is not enough.

     The right arm is beyond salvaging. The Gloom: a loathsome force merely kept at bay with his light's slower abrasion. With what it has devoured, devours, and seeks to continue devouring as its master recovers his strength, the hero — Link, a faint voice chimes, sweet with conviction and love for her swordsman — will not make it.

     What an enormously cataclysmic thing to reckon with.

     Somewhere in the far distance, what sounds startlingly like the time bell knells a solemn rhythm. His spirit cannot cast shadows, but it paints a seafoam glow over Link as Rauru looms over his body — hand clutching ever tighter, as though his hold alone could pierce past the trappings of mortal flesh and erase every sliver of rot in one fell swoop. He reaches for the Gloom again, tendrils of incanted light enveloping the source in a shimmering embrace, and once more, his magic does not purge as cleanly as he wants it to. Once more, another fragment of his remains falls away.

     This is foolish, a part of him thinks; the part mired in memories of wanton bloodshed, of surviving at whatever the cost, of a time before a tempering kindness. Foolish, and needlessly cruel. He has seen damage of this severity wrought before — has treated it before.

     At his core, he knows what must be done. His hesitation, in the face of that, is not a mercy: it is another moment suspended between life and death, another opportunity for the Gloom to spread, another tally against the odds of what would now be a miracle.

     Another failing.

     Rauru does not need to breathe, yet he nevertheless finds himself going through its invisible motions. It calms him, marginally, and his mind clears enough for the thought to turn constructive. Yes, he knows what must be done. The question now is: what is he to do with the repercussions?

     —What repercussions? Another part of him thinks; the one locked in shame, drowning in regret, fraying with the need to pen this story to its very end.

     The flow of his light stills.

     It resumes a split second later, surging forth to continue hindering the creep of darkness, but his grip loosens. His fingers, slowly, unwind.

     What repercussions, the thought continues, when it is only the right arm that has to be dealt with? A right arm that has to be accounted for?

     A right arm that he, blessedly, still possesses?

     Link's chances of survival do not seem so slight, now.

     ( Rauru's chances of atoning do not seem so elusive, now. )

     It is a simple thing, grasping that ruined hand. Honing his light to burn through everything — skin, sinew, blood, marrow — is, too, effortless with how densely the corrosion is seeped into the flesh. The Gloom lingers, harder to contain for a moment with no corporeal bearer, but that will soon be remedied.

     Link's fingers are the last ashes to be swept away. From there, it is just a matter of connecting.

     Rauru does not say the words as he threads their vitalities together. Vows like these have always been a show of devotion more than anything, anyway. When this arm is all he can hope to offer to Link — to Zelda, to Mineru, to Sonia, to Hyrule, to everyone and everything he's loved and lost — what could possibly indicate his devotion more?

[fahrenheitegg]

HOW THEY'D WRITE A POEM FOR YOU

✻ pairings: luxiem members x gn!reader

✻ synopsis: how each luxiem members would write a poem for you

✻ further notice: n/a

he wanted it to be deep and romantic, but in the end, he could only make up a simple yet sweet words for you

his head was in the clouds while thinking of you and how he'd write you in his poem

he asked himself "what do i think of them?" "what does their smile feel like? their hugs?"

he thought about it for days and has asked for a lot of help

it's for you, after all, so he has to pour all his love and thoughts in it to the point that you'd feel his strong emotions for you

probably stood up late just to complete it

My love, you are a wonder.

Your smiles are like morning dews,

Your laughters are like sunflowers that has bloomed.

You yourself are a walking treasure I'd kill people for.

My beloved treasure.

not a good writer

really

but he wanted to try his best

he asked for mika's help, but mika eventually gave up on him not even half an hour later.

he said he was solely just thinking of you while writing this poem

he wasn't lying at all when he said that

he just wanted you to know how he really feels and what he really wants

and mysta really did put it in the poem.

You is a goddess

You turn me on, effortless

You is sexy

Please fuck me lovingly

this overly romantic demon wants it to be passionate and sweet to the point that your teeth will rot.

he may not be a good writer but he's been around for generations

he want to put in a pinch of vintage type of love letter that would make you feel like you're reading it while drinking tea during the 80's

he asked ike for help, which was a great idea

but he also wanted to add a little bit of him. a little bit of flirt in the poem.

For hundreds of years, I've been living

I can guarantee, shame is what your beauty brings to all paintings

You would always light my world on fire

And you'd always flame up my inner most carnal desire

After you read this poem, maybe a night of heat won't hurt

I'll take care of you, my lady, until both our souls are burnt

nauurr he's not good at writing, especially poems

but he'll try. if it's for you, he must do his best! it'll be worth it!

since it's really not his forte, shu would just come up with the most most most simple, straightforward, uncomplicated yet candied and adorable loving words

or he would try making it a little comedic so it would be less boring

also, so he could see you laugh and giggle

oh, how he loves it when you laugh and giggle

roses are red,

violets ain't blue (they're purple srsly)

you are my sweet cheeks,

and i just want to gooble you up like food

hehe i love you

this man writes every day, what do you expect?

you are this man's muse!

most of his books are inspired by you

made and published, because of you!

you're just always the perfect subject for his work

because you and literature? both a work of art.

the skies have always been our haven

everything on it just reminds me of you.

the stars reminds me of your eyes,

the moon reminds me of your beauty

if only i could catch them all for you, i would've.

until i remember

i realized i had them all along.

Masterlist

[cyborg-franky]

What Kind Of Fanfiction Writer Are They Part Two

Part two...

Law

He was told by Shachi and Penguin that he needs ‘a hobby’ and constant plotting revenge and murder isn’t a good enough hobby. Lame.

So here he is, trying his hand at writing.

He gets like, an hour a week free to work on anything but that’s enough to work on small pieces which is all he’s interested in doing.

Law has been told that perhaps his accompanying doodles aren’t the best addition to his pieces. Also, lame, be cool guys.

Never needs a beta, his writing is very on point with grammar, spelling all the logical things that make a good writer. If you even suggest a beta he will give you a look and make you wish you were dead.

Doesn’t handle criticism well. Don’t like something he’s written? You and the laptop get ‘roomed’ out of the sub.

His smut is the worst and ends up turning you off more than anything.

Shachi was super excited to read smut by Law once and couldn’t look at a naked woman for weeks.

The male made careful arrangements to make sure the female was prepared so there wouldn’t be any vaginal trauma. The female’s natural lubricant is made for effortless penis insertion.

Law thinks it’s rather spicy himself.

Corazon

- Sits down, falls off his seat, drops his laptop, and almost spills his wine on his keyboard. - It’s okay, he gets there eventually and pours himself another glass of wine. - He’s used to writing notes to talk so writing like this should be easy, right? - Corazon ends up writing 1k in a short time but then realises his stories are either about ‘spies’ ‘murder’ ‘betrayal’ or he’s just basically written Lion King but with humans instead. - So he deleted everything as not to out himself to anyone who reads his works. Tells himself that he will reward himself with a sip of wine for every sentence he writes. - He often gets drunk before he finishes a piece. - Instead of a Greek tragedy that’s far too close to home he ends up keyboard smashing and crying as he writes about sad things. Then he has to delete all his work again because it outs himself as a spy in other ways. - Thinks it’s best he just reads or leaves sticky notes everywhere with unhappy faces.

Kid

‘Get your anger out on paper’ they said, ‘Expressing yourself will be good for you!’ they also said.

No one takes a pounding like Kid’s keyboard [well, maybe Killer]

He is a keyboard smashing, angry little man.

‘This language might offend your reader’ the document says “FUCKING GOOD!” Kid laughs loudly and adds ‘fuck’ every other sentence.

CAP’S LOCK, NOT JUST FOR MAKING A POINT, BUT FOR ALL TEXT.

Killer doesn’t even bother correcting him or reading over his shoulder any more.

Kid is also a sour bastard when it comes to negative reviews.

Will caps lock fight people back and forth in the comments of his works.

Is always very proud of his work, and will crow from the rooftops about it.

Likes to play with the ‘thesaurus’ option on dirty words.

‘THE SUPER ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN KID AND TWO OTHER LOSERS’ is the tittle of everything he writes.

Killer

Also writes about ‘handsome strong wonderful chef main characters.

Is in competition with Thatch for the best romance novels on the Grandline.

Uses a super boring normal name as his pen name.

Just goes by ‘Greg’ or some shit.

Has no one to beta for him, is sad about it.

Kid tried to do it for him once and complained there wasn’t enough fighting and explosions for him.

‘Why are they kissing instead of fighting? The chick should fuckin’ punch the dude in the balls HAHAHA’ and that was when Killer stopped letting Kid read.

Overuses the italics. He says it’s all about the emphasis.

Will judge someone on their favourite font, if it’s not Times New Roman are you even a writer?

Also judges you if you don’t have a favourite font.

Always trying to publish his stories before Thatch does.

For some reason all his stories include detailed descriptions and recipes for pasta.

Has a very long straw that goes inside his mask so he can sippy his wine as he works.

[livhatesbeans]

I was thinking about what it must feel like for Hyrule to use his life spell. It must feel so weird to be able to produce this almost physical energy and just pour it into someone else, watching them come back to life?? So I wrote this little scenario around that, and it turned out way longer and fluffier than I intended. Enjoy

Tw for blood, nothing graphic tho

His magic dutifully appeares when he asks for it nicely. It blooms gently in his chest, warmth like sunlight spreads through his veins and down his arms. Like steam on a window it condensates in his palms and drips down his fingertips, leaving his skin in heavy droplets and light mist alike.

The sensation of his life spell would be a rather pleasant one if it wasn’t for the blood and worry it was constantly associated with. Yet he still can’t help but bask in the warmth it creates, soothing his own pains and loosening tense muscles in its wake. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how it makes him feel, alive to the point where he feels otherworldly. He keeps the magic alive by storing it within him, and in return it lets him experience the world through it. He feels like he’s just as much the boy kneeling on the ground as he is the flowing vail of energy surrounding him, to the torn skin that is slowly but surely knitting itself together underneath his fingertips.

He rests his hands atop his friends bloodied skin. A moblin had got in a lucky hit that resulted in a nasty cut that’s stretching across his abdomen. The veteran of the group sleeps on, blissfully oblivious to the pain that must be radiating from the gash, but also unaware of the otherworldly scene that’s taking place before him. The forest, as well as boy above him is painted gold. Each freckle on the fae’s skin is lit up as if the power within him is leaking out of his pores.

Hyrule feels as such. A force to be reckoned with to whoever would dare to disturb him as he works. But the image breaks slightly when the Healer spots thin crimson crescents on his fingertips where his friends blood has seeped in underneath his nails. He’s trying not to let the reality of the situation affect him, pushing the fear away for later. He knows what he’s doing, Legend will be fine. He has to be, because Hyrule wouldn’t even dare to think what he would do without him. He can tell that the flow of blood is slowly decreasing as the minutes pass, so the Healer lets himself feel a small sense of relief.

“The wound is almost closed, don’t overdo it Traveler”

He keeps pushing, thinking that the voice should save its precautions for a less life threatening situation.

Hyrule lets out a heavy sigh. There’s not much left of the once fatal injury. The only trace of it is the dried blood that cakes everything in its path, as well as an angry red scab. The fae doesn’t want his predecessor to suffer if he can help it, and lets his last drops of magic seep into Legend’s skin. This powerful trick of his does not work without a cost. Releasing a tremendous amount of magic in one short burst is not effortless. Just like adrenaline, it drains the body of any energy it has left once it’s purpose is fulfilled. Hyrule can feel his spell starting to wear off as his arms shake just from the effort of holding them up. The looming darkness that is slowly covering his field of view is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

“Hyrule, that’s enough” he hears someone say. He decides he agrees with the voice and lets the last embers that glows underneath his skin die out. He feels more than hears the rumbling voice just beside his ear, “you did good traveler, Vet’s gonna be fine thanks to you”. He figures that the voice belongs to the person who has their arms around his midsection, holding him steady. When did those get there?

“Mmm”. He agrees, “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“That’s okay”. The voice - Warriors - says, his grip around Hyrule tightens, “I’ve got you, you can rest”.

He doesn’t protest when the arms starts pulling him downwards until his back meets something warm. He turns his head to the side so that his ear is pressed to the soft surface of the Captains tunic. A steady heartbeat seeping through the fabric. Hyrule is grateful that his glorified pillow has donned his armor, he certainly wouldn’t have been this cozy while covered in cold metal. And how is he this bony? Hyrule has seen the way the man inhales his food. Wars could probably eat Four for breakfast and still be hungry. The Healer giggles at his own loopy thoughts, oblivious to the look the Captain sends their leader.

“You didn’t have to go all out you know. I told you not to overdo it“.

Hyrule couldn’t care less.

Warriors is saying something else, but Hyrule’s tired brain can’t be bothered to comprehend any of the words. He focuses on the vibrations the sound causes in the Captains chest instead. Not ready to let go of consciousness just yet, he lets his senses tell him of his surroundings instead. The steady rhythm of breaths coming from the warm, if slightly bony chest beneath his ear. The lush scent of moss and pine trees of the forest surrounding them. The twitter of birds are starting to become difficult to make out over the buzzing of his ears, but he’s sure they’re there all the same. Someone is touching his hands, he manages to draw the conclusion that they’re probably being cleaned from the blood he forgot to wipe off earlier, right.

Even after the spell has left his body, the warmth lingers on his skin, like when you’ve been out in the sun all day, soft and safe and impossibly heavy.

He reminds himself that Legend will be okay, he made damn sure of it, and his seven other brothers will make sure of it too now that he has done his part. His Veteran is safe, and the hand stroking his hair reminds him that so is he, he lets himself sleep.

[demonprodigy-kingofsheep]

“Definitely not!”

The two teenage boys yelled in unison above the din of the party hall, the disbelief in their voices making Mori’s lips curl beneath his interwoven fingers.

“I’m not asking you two for my sake, you know?” he said simply. “Elise-chan is the one who wanted to hear you two sing karaoke together. We don’t want to disappoint her, do we?”

Dazai and Chuuya stared at him, trying to come up with some counter-argument for Mori’s demand, but Mori knew no matter how much they tried, they could not refuse when Elise was in the equation. So, he leaned back onto his chair and watched them end up gaping soundlessly like two fish trapped in a glass bowl.

Driving the final nail into the coffin, he said, “Consider this a competition- a part of the evaluation for the position of an executive.”

“How does that even make sense?” Dazai protested.

“It will let me know if you two have the essential skills for the position. As an executive, you will have to boost the morale of your subordinates, coordinate with other officers, and be confident in your ability to sway a whole crowd. This is the perfect opportunity to show those skills off, don’t you think?”

“But-”

“Now get on the stage. I expect you two to give a fine demonstration of what teamwork and trust looks like to the rest of the mafia.”

With no room for further discussion in Mori’s razor sharp smile, Dazai and Chuuya were left side-eyeing each other in dread.

A few seconds passed in a deadlock, but Dazai was the first one to give up with a long sigh.

“Whatever, let’s get this ordeal over with.”

Chuuya looked at him incredulously, as if he was shocked that he gave up so soon. But knowing he was outnumbered, he too shook his head in resignation. “Hey bandage-bastard,” he grumbled, “If you do something weird on stage, I won’t hesitate to punch you on the face.”

Dazai shot him a condescending look. “Keep dreaming, Chuuya.”

---

With a crash of the cymbal, another spotlight appeared, shining on the person who lazily climbed the opposite end of the stage and made his way towards the center. Gritting his teeth, Chuuya watched the bane of his life approach him.

Dazai removed his black coat- the one gifted by the boss- with an effortless shrug of his shoulders and casually threw it in the direction of the many hands that reached towards him in the crowd. He then grabbed the blue mic from its stand, his brown eyes fixed on Chuuya’s face.

Each and every one of his actions were graceful, and yet, laced with an air of detached boredom- as if he wanted to get over with everything and return home soon. How could someone be this much of a dead fish in front of such a zealous crowd? It was yet another one of the million mysteries about Dazai that Chuuya could never understand.

---

When Dazai turned around, the guitarist had already taken the front stage for the interlude, giving Chuuya space to stroll towards the side of the stage and pluck a water bottle from one of the attendants with a brief nod of gratitude. Instead of keeping the mic aside and using his hands like a civilized human being, he twisted the bottle cap open with his teeth.

As Dazai watched on with a mask of disgust, Chuuya poured the water all over his face and hair until the bottle was completely empty.

The crowd went wild as Chuuya strode around the stage, waving and pointing at the audience, and inciting them even more with shouts of encouragement.

He sure is popular, Dazai thought.  

Droplets of water flew from the tips of his red hair as he shook his head, sparkling as they caught the stage lights mid-air. Dazai found himself unable to rip his eyes away from the spectacle that his partner was. 

Fascinating. Breathtaking. Incredible.

---

Thanks for reading this far! Find the whole fic (with more gay tension) here.

[tsumucore]

Request: ok headcannon this the tiktok trend of either climbing into your bfs lap/filming their reaction to you dancing/the walking in naked reaction Daichi, Kuroo, Semi, Bokuto, and Iwa??? or really any of them bc like honestly those reactions would be hilarious 🤣

A/N: I have so much fun writing tiktok requests :D

Warning: implied NSFW

Daichi

You were planning to spend some quality time with your boyfriend by having a movie night. As he set up everything in the living room, you were finishing up your shower. After drying your hair, you wrapped a towel around yourself which gave you an idea.

You had been seeing the trend of people ‘dropping the towel’ and walking in naked on their partners all over social media. You wanted to know how Daichi would react; obviously, he had seen you naked many times before, but catching him off guard would be interesting.

“Baby, are you almost done?” Daichi’s voice floated over to where you stood in the bathroom, spurring your eagerness to commence with the plan. You loosened the towel and got your phone ready to catch everything on film. You opened the door and emerged from the cloud of steam that had filled the bathroom.

“Daichi,” you drawled as you watched him prop up pillows and spread out blankets on the couch. You waited until he turned around to acknowledge you before letting the towel drop to the floor with one effortless flick of the wrist.

This man didn’t even bat an eye at your naked form. “Uh, babe? Make sure you’re completely dry if you’re going to be laying on the blankets.”

You felt like a clown; you were trying to catch him off guard, and instead, he had caught you off guard. You quickly stopped recording and saved the footage before stamping your foot. “Daichi,” you whined. “You were supposed to react more favorably - blush or stutter or something.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he chuckled at your slightly indignant expression. “Here, why don’t you sit on my lap while we go ahead and start this movie. I’ll show you a genuine reaction.”

Kuroo

Damn you, Kenma, you thought to yourself for what felt like the umpteenth time. Ever since Kenma had introduced your boyfriend to a new game, he had been hooked. You considered yourself to be a reasonable person, but if Kuroo didn’t give you some attention soon, you were going to spontaneously combust.

Lo and behold, you saw the trend all over your ‘for you’ page: people walking in stark naked to see how their partners would react. You decided at once that you were going to try it. If your boyfriend didn’t react favorably to this, you were going to scream into the void.

You wrapped a towel around your otherwise bare body and pressed “record” on your phone. You ambled into the living room, took a deep breath, and called his name before dropping the towel.

“Yeah, babe,” your boyfriend didn’t even bother to turn around as his fingers madly pushed the controller’s buttons. Unbelievable. He merely continued to talk into his headset. You were going to have to kick this up a notch.

You stopped recording and threw your phone on the couch. In case you failed again, you did not need your humiliation caught on film. You came up behind him, lightly massaging his shoulders and calling his name one more time. “Tetsurou...” You were now climbing into his lap.

Kuroo immediately dropped the controller in surprise. He took one look at you before pausing the game and hastily turning off the headset before lightly tossing it next to him. “What’s all this, babe?” He chuckled while roaming his hands all over you.

Bingo. “It’s for you,” you replied.” But if you want to get back to your game, that’s fine with me too.” You shimmied out of his grasp and started heading out of the room. You had to pull together every brain cell you had to suppress your laughter when you heard him tripping over himself to chase after you.

Semi

Your could hear the echoes from your boyfriend’s bass wafting from his makeshift studio in his apartment. He really was good - so good, that you could feel the energy his sound conveyed from where you stood in the kitchen.

The bassline tingled through your extremities as you felt it evoke a slight swaying of your hips. This gave you an idea. You pulled off your clothes and casually dropped them on the living room couch before opening the tiktok app and recording your journey to Semi’s studio.

You lightly danced your way down the hall and to the right where you paused briefly outside the door of his second bedroom-turned-studio. You knocked lightly and pushed the door open, continuing to sway your hips to the rhythm of your lover’s music.

Semi was still playing when he lifted his head to look up at you - and when he did, his eyes widened and crimson dusted his cheeks. “Eita, I just love your playing so much... Look what it’s making me do,” you giggled as you slightly twirled your torso, causing your breasts to bounce.

At this, Semi couldn’t meet your eyes as he stopped playing to use one hand to cover the embarrassed smile tugging at his face. Cute. You stopped recording and shook your phone at him. “Now everyone will know how talented you are. You’re welcome,” you declared teasingly.

He gave a slight roll of his eyes before setting aside the bass and pulling you on his lap. “Oh? I think you had an ulterior motive going on here... I find it hard to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before lightly slapping his chest and feigning shock. “I’m offended that you’re questioning my kindness.” This earned you another eye roll and a sweet kiss straight on your lips.

Bokuto

The second you saw the trend circulating all over social media, you knew you had to try it on your own eccentric boyfriend. You wanted to see how he would react - obviously, he would get excited (it was Bokuto after all), but you thought it would be funny to get everything on camera.

He was on the phone with someone - Akaashi, you presumed - as you dawdled in the bedroom. You stripped yourself down completely and hit the record button on your phone. Showtime.

“Akaashi, I swear! It’s all in the Chipotle sauce.” Your boyfriend was speaking through mouthfuls of sandwich when you walked into the living room. “No, it really does make a difference! Man, this re-” You rolled your eyes as you waited for him to look up at you. 3, 2, 1.

When he finally acknowledged your presence, his already owlish eyes widened even further and bits of sandwich were falling out his mouth as he gaped at your completely bare form. “Akaashi, I gotta go,” he practically screamed as he tossed his phone on the couch and eagerly ran towards you, banging his toe on the furniture in the process. This man really started limping in his efforts to get to you.

You decided to yank his chain even further by innocently asking him what was wrong and then glancing down at yourself as if realizing for the first time that you were naked. By now, he was practically frothing at the mouth. “Woah, can we do it right now?”

You stopped recording because his hands were getting - ahem - grabby, and you were sure tiktok’s policy wouldn’t take too kindly to what was about to commence.

Bonus: He pulled a fast one and did the exact same thing to you a few days later.

Iwaizumi

You had been seeing the trend all over your ‘for you’ page for the past couple weeks. At first, you disregarded it as just another corny gimmick for couples chasing clout. However, your curiosity got the best of you as you wondered what your own boyfriend’s reaction would be like.

You commenced your plan of action by staying in your bedroom when he came home from the gym. He always made a protein shake in the kitchen after working out, so you knew this was the best time to catch him.

The only thing you had on as you made your way down the hallway was a towel wrapped precariously around your body. Your phone was on and recording your journey to the kitchen. Once you reached the kitchen, you saw that his back was turned to you as he was pouring the shake into a glass. Perfect.

“Hajime,” you called in the sweetest tone you could muster before dropping the towel on the floor. Your boyfriend was in the middle of taking a swig of his shake as he turned around.

When he saw that you were completely naked in front of him, he spluttered and choked on his shake, which sent him into a coughing fit. It took a whole minute for him to recover. His cheeks were red and his hands were wiping away at his mouth.

You teased him incessantly after ending the recording. You had successfully captured what you were looking for.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” While you gleefully examined the footage, you didn’t notice your boyfriend inching closer to you and grabbing your hips. “Maybe I need to teach you a lesson.”

.°•  rules  ₊˚•.  masterlist  .°•

[sombreboy]

Clipped wings♕yandere!prince!jjk

♮ 18+ ♮ xtremity: 4 ♮ pairing: prince jjk x female reader ♮ genre: soft smut, light angst, royal au, soft yandere ♮ word count: 7.7k ♮ warnings: light angst, soft yandere, possessive behavior, stockholm syndrome themes, soft smut, virgin!reader, oral(f), fingering, praise ‘dirty’ talk, unprotected sex/creampie.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for so long and here he finally is. I want to thank @ppersonna​ for being my soft smut aid, I couldn’t have finished this without you. And thank you @chimoona​ for being a good support to keep me from throwing this fic into the trash can at several occasions. ily or something. Also thank you to my dear @carly-bean-blog​ for helping me out with this gorgeous banner. chu♡

It was a late night, the darkness illuminated by the continuous lightning strikes flashing, rain pouring down so hard that it was hard to see further than a few meters ahead.

It was the worst thunderstorm in history, you were sure of it. 

Unfortunately, you were in the midst of it, lost in the woods as you tried to navigate your way back to town. 

But to no avail, you were completely disoriented, panic rushing through your spine as you felt your clothes getting heavier, soaked by the cold rain.

Aimlessly wandering for shelter, you end up in a large garden, following the trail of flowers until you reach two grand doors. You look up, palms placed flat on the surface, your eyes squinting to get a better look of it. You couldn’t see very well, but this was a very large building-- A castle?

Another strike of lightning sparked in the sky, the silhouette of the castle visible for a split second, and you gasp, startled from the roaring sound. In the midst of it, you decide to knock three times on the wooden doors.

A long moment passes, until you take a step back when the two doors slowly creaked open. Keeping one hand over your face to shelter your eyes from the rain, you’re able to distinguish the frame of a man standing by the doorway,

‘‘Who may this be?’’

Must be a butler, his voice deep and smooth. He didn’t look very pleased, however.

‘‘I-I just.... I’m lost, and-’‘

‘‘I’m sorry, we are unable to help. Unless you have business with the prince, you must leave immediately.’‘

You took a step closer, a frown on your face, ‘’You’re going to leave me here in the cold? It’s pouring!’’

The butler didn’t move, but his eyes were apologetic, ‘’I’m sorry, ma’am.’’

‘‘I’ll die from the cold!’‘ You pleaded. It felt partially true, you were freezing, soaked and lost. How could one be so heartless?

The butler pursed his lips, as if he was trying to find a solution, ‘’Then... step inside for a moment.’’ he ushered for you to get inside just far enough for you to be sheltered by the building, closing the doors behind you before he strides through the hall towards a room, ‘’Wait there, I will be back shortly.’’

So, you did. You waited, for what felt like forever.

Until finally, the footsteps of the butlers heeled boots echoed through the large hallway was heard as he returned, a vague smile on his lips as he bowed at you,

‘‘The prince would like to see you.’‘

You tilted your head to the side, ‘’He would?’’

The butler nods, ushering for you to follow behind him, so you do.

When reaching the next large door, the butler opens them before stepping to the side, announcing your presence, ‘’She’s here, my lord.’’

You walk in, unsure of what to say or do, jumping where you stand as the doors slam shut behind you, leaving you alone with this.... prince.

‘‘Who are you?’‘ His smooth voice snapped your attention towards the man standing by the window, back facing you.

From what you could see, he was very young. A lot younger than you expected, probably around your age if you weren’t mistaken.

He had raven hair, a form fitted suit showcasing his perfectly sculpted proportions, a slim waist with broad shoulders. 

Please, let him at least have a less attractive face.

The prince turned around slowly, a wine glass swirling in his hand while the other was stuffed deep down the pocket of his suit pants.

Of course he was beautiful.

‘‘Let me ask you again,’’ he said, taking one sip from his wine as he slowly sauntered over to you, the echoing of his heels clacking against the floor prominent in the grand room, ‘’Who are you? And what do you want?’’

Your eyebrows were drawn together, gaze following him as he circled around you like some kind of predator eyeing its prey.

‘‘I’m Y/N. I simply wish for shelter from the storm until it passes, then I will be on my way.’’

The prince hummed, his eyes drawn to the liquid in his glass as he’s in thought,

‘‘And why should I grant you this wish?’‘

What? Wish?

‘‘Are you serious?’‘ You grew annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest. Ah, your clothes were cold... Looking at him, your eyes were annoyed, yet pleading, ‘‘It’s a very bad storm, I can’t go back out...’‘

‘‘Then what do you offer?’‘ He glanced back up at you with a serious face.

What could you possibly offer a prince? He had everything he could ever desire.

But, you did have one thing that could not be bought...

‘‘I could sing for you.’‘

The prince’s eyes widened, he didn’t expect that out of all things you could’ve offered. ‘’Huh? I mean...What?’’

Now he’s the one speechless. huh.

‘‘Yes,’‘ You take one daring step forward, ‘‘I’m not rich, nor do I have anything of... value to give. But.. I can sing. Isn’t it awfully quiet in this large castle all by yourself?’‘

He rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek, placing the glass down on the nearby desk before crossing his own arms over his chest. ‘’Go on then. Sing for me.’’

His command causes you to take a deep breath, giving him a short nod. God, you wish you would’ve been able to change into dry clothes first... Hopefully, this would be enough for him to let you stay, and maybe even accommodate some dry fabrics for your freezing body.

Jungkook leaned against his desk, fingers thrumming against his bicep as they were crossed. He wasn’t expecting much, honestly. But, he was truly bored-- why not mess with this strange girl before throwing her out?

But, he spoke too soon, and his premature judgement backfired. As soon as you cleared your throat, a shaky tune escaped your parted lips. With every word you sang, your voice got steadier and more secure in your abilities. The cold was less of a bother as the piercing, fixated gaze of the prince heated your entire being.

He was absolutely mesmerized by your voice, his lips fell slightly agape, his body stiffening. He expected nothing special, but this... It was probably-- no, it was without a doubt the most beautiful sound he’s ever been blessed with. It touched his soul, his heart pounded beneath his rib cage so hard it felt like it would burst, eyes now focused on your effortless beauty despite your messy damp hair and soaked clothes. You were way beyond physical beauty.

He’d already made his decision by now.

‘‘Enough.’‘ The prince had closed the distance between the two of you, his body standing right in front of yours. You hadn’t noticed that he came up to you until your eyes opened, breath hitched at his close proximity. Your doe eyes stared up at him, his own dark orbs swirling with an unnamed emotion.

‘‘S-so...?’‘ You whisper, hoping that it was enough for him to let you stay the night.

He smiled softly, reaching to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand. ‘‘I’ll need you to sing for me once more,’‘ He paused to snap his fingers, the maid that you didn’t even notice was in the room ushers you out of the room to lead you to your own.

Jungkook wanted to hear it again. And again... And again… For the rest of eternity.

~ ~ ~

The following morning you felt well rested, the large bed and dry nightgown provided worked wonders. Peering around the room, you realized that you’d possibly overstayed your welcome, the sun shining through the large... locked and barred window? Odd. Safety precautions, supposedly.

You pushed the bedspread away from your body to stand up, heading towards the door to leave.

It was locked.

‘’What the..?’’ 

You were in disbelief, jerking the handle once, twice. It wouldn’t budge. You were locked in.

‘’Hello?... I can’t get out! Open the door!’’ You yelled through the keyhole, fist slamming against the wooden surface of the door, hoping that somebody in the large castle would hear you.

As soon as you were about to slam your hand against the door once more, it suddenly opened. It was the kind butler, handing you a stack of clean clothes and an apologetic smile.

‘’The prince has instructed for you to join him for dinner this evening,’’ He pauses to make sure you’re keeping up, his lopsided smile still present, ‘’Please put this on before then. I will return when it is time.’’

He puts the fabrics in your hands before you’re able to even think of a response, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion. 

‘’Wait-- Why was the door locked?’’ You pleaded for an answer, but the butler avoided the question, and simply took a step back before slowly closing the door, the expression on his eyes nothing but penitent.

You couldn’t believe what was happening, eyes widening as you dropped everything to the floor, attempting once again to open the door, but within the same second the click of the lock striked the room, and the fading sound of footsteps leaving in the hallway.

What were you supposed to do the entire day?

And why did the prince want you to stay for dinner? 

And for god's sake, why on earth were you locked in? You thought the prince wanted you out as soon as humanly possible. Nothing made sense.

A defeated sigh pushed through your lips as you picked up the clothes that you’d dropped, heading over to place them on the bed. You wonder if the prince himself had personally picked out this ensemble for you. Not that it mattered. You lift the cloth to inspect the dark purple fabrics, a cocktail style dress… and honestly… you’d lie if you said it wasn’t beautiful.

~ ~ ~

The evening finally arrived, and you actually had gotten ready in lack of anything else to do, dress on with the matching shoes-- even the little bracelet provided, a small silver dangle attached shaped like a little bird. You figured, you might as well oblige to the prince’s wishes, and hopefully you’d be able to leave after this… dinner.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had made sure that everything was up to his expectations; the grand table filled with a variety of delicacies. He circled the table several times, sharp eyes observing that every single detail was up to par. And it was, he hummed in content before his gaze landed on his butler. ‘’Bring the lady, make sure she’s dressed for the occasion.’’

‘’Yes, my lord.’’

~ ~ ~

A firm knock on the door caught your attention as you were observing yourself in the large mirror. Suddenly, you almost felt nervous-- jittery. Taking a deep breath, you head towards the door, waiting for whoever is behind it to open it for you. ‘’Are you dressed?’’ The deep voice on the other side muttered. 

‘’Yes.’’ As soon as you voiced your reply, the door swung open, this time a boxy smile adorning the butlers face instead of the crooked one you’d almost gotten used to. It was nice to see he had any other expression than a gloomy one.

You were guided downstairs to the dining hall. As soon as you entered through the two large doors, you felt so incredibly small. You jumped when the doors were slammed shut behind you, and a sudden hand gently placed on your lower back to usher you to your seat.

Jungkook crooked his eyebrow at the butler's daring move and gave him a warning glare as he pushed your seat in behind you.

‘’Welcome, Y/N.’’ Jungkook clasped his hands on the table, leaning forward as his eyes roamed down the outfit you’d put on… The attire he’d chosen especially for you. His gaze landed on the small bracelet on your wrist, the silver bird dangle beautifully decorating you like a piece of art.

‘’Thank you..’’ You replied, a bit unsure of this situation. But you decided to enjoy it. Why not? It’s not everyday that you’d get to dine with royalty. All this food smelled heavenly. Jungkook snapped his fingers, and on cue the butler poured your wine, while the maid put food on your plates. When he was satisfied, he told them to leave the room and wait outside.

Jungkook wanted utter privacy with you.

‘’What do you think of this?’’ Jungkook asked, gesturing around the room; but he meant everything. The castle.

‘’It’s divine,’’ You answered truthfully as you sipped your wine to wash down the food, ‘’Is it just you here?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ He nodded, a small smile on his lips. It almost looked sad, ‘’If you don’t count my servants.’’

The dinner was pleasant, surprisingly. There wasn’t much conversation, but a simple comfortable silence with the occasional comment about the delicious cuisines that were offered. While you were gazing around the room, chewing your food in content, Jungkook’s eyes were completely transfixed on you. The way your nose scrunched slightly from the bitter aftertaste of the wine. The way you continuously placed strands of your hair behind your ear, to just how enchanting you looked in the attire he’d dressed you in.

He felt lucky that he found you. Or rather, you found him. It couldn’t be anything but fate. Jungkook believed it. He stayed this way for a while, enjoying the silent admiration he was giving you. He hadn’t had this kind of company… Ever. It was new, and he didn’t want to let it go. Suddenly the silence felt suffocating.

‘’Sing for me.’’ Jungkook asked softly, swirling the wine glass in his hand. His eyes followed the flow of the liquid for a second before shifting his piercing gaze to your face.

You stopped yourself from questioning him, knowing he knows that you heard him the first time. But that didn’t mean your eyebrows weren’t raised in surprise. ‘’Okay.’’ After all, he had told you that he wanted to hear you sing one more time.

Jungkook’s doe eyes sparkled in awe as he leaned back in his chair, completely forgetting about the glass in his hand. He couldn’t even think, just listen-- and stare at you the second you got up from your chair and sing. The way your lips moved with every word, his eyes followed. The small gestures of your hands made him want to hold them. And the brightness in your eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, had his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

This is it. She’s the one.

While you sang, he’d slowly gotten up from his seat, placing the glass on the table to leave it behind. Approaching you, his hands reached out to grab your wrist and pull you close to his chest. Your singing stopped with a surprised yelp, staring at the little bracelet he was observing as he held your wrist up for the two of you to view.

‘’You know what this is?’’ He asked, grasping the little dangle decoration between his thumb and index finger.

‘’A dove?’’ You said, a bit confused as to what he meant. It was obviously a dove.

‘’Correct,’’ He chuckled, the endearing smile of his growing, ‘’A symbol of peace.’’ A piece of peace in Jungkook’s world.

You hum in agreement, still not sure what he’s implying. Trying to pull your wrist away, he willingly let go, but replaced the empty spot in his palm by placing it on your waist. This was awfully close, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

‘’I-- thank you for the dinner… But, I should really get going now.’’ You glanced towards the window, seeing the sun shining bright, ‘’The storm has passed.’’

Jungkook’s smile faltered at your words, slowly morphing into a frown when you stepped away from his grasp. His hands fell to his sides, looking at you as if you had just torn his heart out of his chest. But you didn’t notice. ‘’Don’t leave.’’

You were on your way to the door, hand grasping the handle before his words stopped you, causing you to look over your shoulder at the prince. Silence filled the room, and the air grew thicker.

‘’I have to leave. I can’t stay here. I need to go home.’’

Jungkook sighed, clenching his jaw as he stared at the floor. He almost looked like a child throwing a tantrum when they didn’t get what they wished for. ‘’You can’t.’’ He murmured.

‘’Watch me.’’ You huffed, jerking the door open before stepping out into the grand hall, striding towards the door with a made up mind. You were going home, you shouldn’t get used to this lifestyle. It was only for one night. You made it to the grand entrance, pushing with your entire body strength and pulling at the handle-- but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Your eyes searched for a way to unlock it, you were inside of the building after all. Why couldn’t you open it?

‘’Y/N..’’ Jungkook startled you, appearing behind you so suddenly. His voice was calm, arms crossed over his chest. A concerned look played on his face.

‘’Why is the door locked?’’ You asked, confusion obvious in your expression as you let go of the handle to turn to him.

‘’I told you, you can’t leave.’’ He sighed, clacking his tongue in annoyance. Why didn’t you get it?

‘’Why?’’

‘’I want you to stay… Be my little bird.’’

‘’What… what do you mean ‘little bird’?’’

‘’Sing for me, always.’’ The look in his eye was serious, yet gentle. He stepped closer, reaching out to delicately take your hands in his own, ‘’I will take care of you, everything you need is right here. Anything you want. Just please be mine.’’

Your mouth fell open, unable to speak or think of any witty comment to counter with. His words were sincere, the vulnerability in his expression along with his delicate touch had your heart skip a beat.. Or stop completely-- you weren’t sure. The logic in you told you no, this couldn’t be. He couldn’t love you this quickly, and neither could you. But your heart pumped these new emotions throughout your body, clouding any sense of what should and shouldn’t-- any logic thrown out the window. A part of you that grew with every second spent drowning in his dark eyes, your body decided to make the decision for you with a vague nod. 

‘’Say it.’’ Jungkook urged, his eyes sparkling with a layer of tears. Were they happy? Sad? Maybe both. He wanted to hear your sweet voice confirm, his own chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He squeezed your hands in his, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

‘’I… I can’t say that yet.. I’m sorry.’’ You whispered, and you swore you could hear his heart audibly crack. But it was okay, he mused. You didn’t reject him-- but you didn’t accept him in your heart yet. All you needed was time.

‘’Y/N…’’ Jungkook pulled you closer to his chest, brushing your hair away from your face. As he spoke, his warm comforting breath fanned your lips, ‘’It’s okay, you don’t have to say it yet. Just… Stay with me.’’

You nodded, feeling your own eyes sting with the tears building up from his heavy emotions rubbing off on you. He smiled softly, palm carefully placed on your cheek to draw you in, closing the distance between your lips in a sweet kiss.

All he needed was patience.

~ ~ ~

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months spent in his castle. You hadn’t taken a single step outside since that stormy night, and it was as if you’d forgotten what grass felt like underneath your feet. However, the times he allowed you to sit with him on his balcony, the warm sun and chill breeze would bring you enough peace to satiate your need for the freedom you were robbed of.

It was complicated, the way you felt. Spending every single day with the prince, you’d gradually fallen for him, and become close enough for you to even start calling him by his first name. He spoiled you with everything you could ever want; clothes, jewelry, endless amounts of books and pretty things, flowers. He showered you in his affection, a large smile constantly on his face whenever he gave, gave and gave to you. He saw how you slowly opened up to him, and it made him so happy; nobody had ever seen the lonely prince this way before.

But at times when he wasn't home, out attending to his duties, you suddenly felt lonely. You had time to think about everything, and it scared you how much you missed Jungkook. However, what you had started to miss even more was your freedom… The life you had before you met the prince.

It was clear that you weren’t allowed to leave, every window was barred, and every door was locked. It was impossible. No matter, because at this point you were scared to live without him. You couldn’t.

So you opted for the one thing you knew, the one thing you had that was in your control.

You stood by your window, watching the birds chirp and fly by, feeling the warmth of the sun rays beaming at your skin in stripes through the bars. You sang your heart out. 

In the beginning, your singing was bright and full of life, proud of how Jungkook admired your voice.

But lately, your tune was laced with melancholy.

~ ~ ~

Jungkook heard your voice as he strode through the hallway, feeling his heart jump at the beautiful sound. Lately, your voice had gotten more and more bewitching. He was obsessed with the sadness in your vocals. He carefully peeked in through the crack of the door as he opened it, and the sight before him was breathtaking. You looked like a goddess with the sun glowing on your skin, eyes closed as you were completely indulged in your song. 

He loved you so much, nothing or nobody could ever compare, nor could anybody intervene. You were his, kept safe in this castle for the rest of your life.

After a long moment of admiring you, Jungkook finally opened the door to step inside, quietly strolling over to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, letting his hands settle on your stomach as he pressed his chest against your back, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. Your singing ceased, eyes widening in surprise at his sudden appearance. Just as quickly as your body tensed up, it relaxed in his embrace.

“You sing so pretty, my little dove,” he cooed into your ear as he held you tight. His hands splayed against your stomach and rubbed gently, carefully and slowly moving upwards. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt your body tingle with a mixture of fright and excitement, warmth blooming where his hands trailed.

Jungkook turned you in his arms, pressed his chest against yours as his fingers caressed the side of your delicate face, a loving smile on his lips. He moved slowly, with intention, towards the plush bed behind you. His eyes never left yours, peering into them as if he could see your inner most desires. It made your body feel engulfed in flame.

“Please, let me have you,” the prince asked. His voice was sweet, pleading and desperate. He guided you towards the bed and the press of the firm mattress behind your knees made you fall with a soft gasp escaping your lips.  “I need you, my love. I need to taste you, please.”

You found it hard to say no, hard to say anything at all despite the warnings sounding in your head. As confused by him and this entire situation as you were, you couldn’t help the magnetic pull you felt when he held you close, or the way your heart throbbed when he was around. 

“Y-yes,” you replied, voice timid. 

His body hovered over you, lips inches from your own and you felt your body press further and further into the bed as he encroached over you. 

“Yes, what, little bird?” He asked. His voice was light—sensitive and loving. His eyes spoke volumes. He looked at you as if he wanted to claim every inch of you, make you his physically and emotionally for the rest of his life. 

You swallowed hard as you lied down, head resting on the soft pillows, as your eyes connected with his. Any doubt had slowly left you as the warmth of his body seeped into your clothes and into your very core. It felt like a fire was building, growing larger and more intense, in the center of your thighs. 

“Yes, please,” you whispered.  

Your answer pleased the prince—he moved down further until his lips connected with yours. His hips pressed into your own and you could feel his hard length against you—making you gasp into his kiss. 

It spurred Jungkook on, his tongue taking advantage and sliding into your open mouth to caress and lick at your own tongue. He moaned lightly at the taste of you, so sweet and perfect—just like you. He wanted to taste it for the rest of his life, have the sweet essence of you on his tongue every single night. He was sure if your mouth tasted so sweet, your drenched folds would taste even better.  

“Let me see you,” he whispered as he pulled away from your honeyed lips.  “Please.”

His voice was so desperate--so full of love and desire for you that the fire within you blazed higher. It was becoming harder and harder to resist the prince at all, and you found yourself wondering why you ever resisted in the first place.

After receiving your consent in the form of a nod, Jungkook pushed the fabric of your dress up from your thighs. His strong hands smoothed over the soft, plush skin and you shivered at the feeling of his warmth that lingered where he touched.  He continued pushing the dress up until it exposed your stomach and core to him. 

His eyes explored every inch of your body.  He was mesmerized by the way your stomach curved and your hips swelled. Your body was finer than any of the paintings in his castle, more valuable than the jewels glittering in his reserves. His breath came out heavier as his vision trailed to the linen of your panties, the very ones he provided for you. Jungkook loved the way you looked in the clothes he picked especially for you--his gorgeous, little songbird.

Your hands clutched at the bunched material of your dress and you desperately sought to take it off, expose yourself fully to the handsome prince above you. Your body squirmed as he continued drinking you in, hurrying to take the rest of the fine dress off your body. Jungkook noticed your discomfort, and moved to help you pull the dress up and over your head. The gesture was sweet, so sweet it felt like an ache in your heart and your core.  

Jungkook threw the garment aside, no care for the price or quality of the dress. His only care was you, now nearly naked and pliant underneath him. If he thought the hills and valleys of your thighs were mesmerizing, he was wholly unprepared for the sight of your breasts.

He could feel his mouth drying up as he watched your nipples prickle in the chill of the castle’s air.  He was sure he stopped breathing as he watched your chest rise and fall with each deliberate breath you brought in and expelled.  He felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to moisten his lips, eyes glued to the pretty pink nubs of your breasts.

“My dove,” he gasped. 

Your eyes were wide, pupils blown with a mixture of anxiety and lust, and your hands sought to grab at the cloth of his shirt.

“Please, Jungkook,” you whined softly. Being so exposed, so vulnerable to the man above you made you needier by the second. You were sure you couldn’t stand another minute under his intense gaze without him touching you somewhere, anywhere.

Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed at the sound of his name rolling off your sweet tongue. He felt his body nearly tremble, and he knew he needed to hear it for the rest of his life. There was no way he could let you go now, now that he would have you fully.

“What do you need, my love?” He asked as he smoothed a hand over your delicate stomach and up towards your ribs.  “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give you everything you could ever want.”

Your back arched off the bed as his warm hand pursued up your body until it summited the crest of your breast. He marveled at the way his hands fit over the soft globes, and how perfectly they fit in his palms. He knew you were made for him--that you were the only one meant to be with him. Everything about you reminded him that you were made for him.

His fingers pinched at a nipple and he sighed as he heard your soft, gentle squeak at the pinch.  His stomach tightened painfully, and his cock strained hard against the linen of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself between your plush thighs, but he knew he needed to to worship you, to make you feel like the princess you would soon become.

In one swift movement, his head bowed down piously to pull a nipple into his mouth while his fingers maintained pressure on the other. He moaned around the bud in his lips, the way it felt against his tongue and the sweet flavor of your skin. Your keening gasps and sighs encouraged him, making him suck the nub in further and tongue swirl around it. 

Your body felt grazed with tiny pinpricks of pleasure, electrifying you down to your veins. You have never felt such pleasure in your life, never knowing the touch of a man. But you’re sure that no man could compare to the way the prince felt above you, pressing his worshipful kisses to your breasts.

Jungkook switched to your other breast, frenzied to taste and consume you--every last inch. He fervidly licked at your prickled nub before he pulled it into his mouth and allowed his tongue to explore and pleasure it.

“J-Jungkook!” You gasped at the feeling. His other hand rubbed and pinched at your abused nipple so well it made your legs tremble.  

He popped off your breasts but maintained his grip on you with his hands, a toothy smile brightening his features as he peered at you.

“Yes, my dove?” He asked as innocently as he could. He knew this action was driving you mad. He could tell by the way your hips bucked and swayed that your channel would be slick and burning with desire by now.

“More, please,” you begged. “I need you to take me.”

Jungkook kissed his way down your sternum, lavishing kisses at your navel and skin of your thighs. He wanted no part of you left untouched, unclaimed by him. He meant to have you in every sense of the word. The prince was determined to ensure every single part of you was conquered by him, and him only.  

Jungkook was eager to get the remaining fabric off you. His deft fingers swiped at your covered slit, smiling as he felt the wetness pooling there.  He hummed deep in his throat as he made himself comfortable between your thighs. Jungkook noticed how comfortable, how natural it felt to be between your thick thighs.  He wanted to leave marks all over them, physical reminders of his claim of you.

You stirred gently, awkwardly, at the intense gaze that the prince was holding with your barely covered decency.   His stare was intense--it fanned the flames within you, making them lick hotly at every inch of your being.

Jungkook tugged at the thin fabric between your thighs, pulling it down your legs gently, as if he was unwrapping the finest and most delicate china.  His breath caught in his throat as he threw them to the side and your centre became exposed to him.  You bloomed below him like the most beautiful rose, petals opening and slick with arousal.  His tongue sought out of his mouth, anxious for a taste of what he was sure to be the most delicious nectar.

“My beautiful,” he sighed as his hands pressed your legs further apart.  You whimpered gently, the feeling of the cold air rolling over your heated body was nearly driving you insane.  Jungkook stared at you as if you were his final, mortal meal.  Jungkook nearly salivated at the sound and the way your legs trembled with need--...need for him.

His face inched closer and close, desperate to be buried face first in your pretty cunt, but careful not to scare you.  Jungkook loved you, passionately and desperately, and he quaked at the thought of terrifying you further. You were his little dove--you needed to be loved slowly, gently.  

“I want to taste you, my love,” he murmured as his face settled centimeters from your exposed folds.  “Please, will you let me have you?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were wide with arousal.  The growing ache and need for him was surging through your veins swiftly, swirling in your mind and clouding any thought that wasn’t the handsome prince, and the way his hands and body felt against yours.  All you could think, all you could comprehend was him--only him.

Your head nodded quickly in reply. “Yes, please, sir.”

Jungkook stifled a groan at the sound of the honorific leaving you.  His spine tingled and he nearly lost all resolve to remain composed.  You drove him mad, and it took all he had to not claim you fully and deeply there, now.

With a gentle kiss to each side of your luscious thighs, Jungkook worshiped each inch of your skin as he worked towards the apex.  He let the sounds of your pleasured sighs and keening gasps roll over him like fine silk.  As he reached your center, he gently bowed his head and pressed a soft kiss to your clit, before allowing his tongue to dart out and taste a droplet of your slick.  

He pulled his head back and closed his eyes in bliss as the flavor blossomed on his tongue.  You tasted so sweet, and earthy.  Like a mulled wine, sweet and honeyed and intoxicating. 

“Perfect,” he admired as he lowered his head back down. “I knew you’d taste so sweet, so perfect.”

Jungkook eagerly got to work now, tongue gently caressing the nub of nerves that had your legs quaking at each tender lick.  He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, succumbed to his desire and pliant underneath him.  He wished to be buried in your sweet cunt for ever, both mouth and cock.  He knew now, irrevocably, he would never be able to live without you.

He drank from you as if you were the last fountain on earth, the only source of his hydration.  His tongue worked eagerly, dipping into the pools of your tight heat and licking up the sweet wetness that pooled.  He couldn’t fathom how one little angel could taste so sweet, feel so good against his tongue.  

Your sweet sighs and moans spurred him on.  Your legs trembled gently and with each caress of his tongue on your nub, your sounds only increased in volume and in need.  The prince was eager to get you to your high, make you feel euphoria caused by him and him only.

Your legs quivered and you gasped his name, and he couldn’t help but smile.  A finger slid into your walls, coaxing your climax with each curl and press of his finger against the tender spot inside you.  It made you nearly scream with how delicious it felt, and Jungkook knew you were near the end. He increased his pressure and speed of his tongue, and curled another finger inside of you.

“Cum for me, my love,” he encouraged between licks. “Let me taste you.”

You were no match for him and his words, dripping in unadulterated love and need.  His eyes connected with yours and your climax washed over you swiftly.  Your back arched and hips squirmed as your walls fluttered and milked his fingers, begging for more--so much more.

Jungkook fervidly licked at the juices that slowly trickled down his fingers from within you, cleaning his hand as he let it slide from within you.

“My little dove,” he sighed. “You taste so sweet when you cum for me.”

Your breaths came out hard, as if your lungs hadn’t worked for hours. You inhaled sharply as you watched him continue to devour the juices on his hands and you felt your spine tingle in response.

Jungkook’s hard length was hard against his trousers and you were desperate now to have the man buried inside you.

“Jungkook, please,” you gasped, hands reaching for the man who now sat above you.  “Please, take me.”

The prince’s heart nearly melted to the floor of the castle at your desperate plea.   You were his, you knew now that you were his. He made quick work of the cotton trousers and shirt, tearing them off his body until he was just as naked as you.  He knew this is how he wanted to be, always.  No clothes, no barriers, nothing to stand in between him and you, his perfect little dove.

“I’m here,” he soothed as he pressed his lips to yours.  “Let me take care of you, my princess.”

He easily lined himself up with your heat, rubbing the bulbous head against the slick and nearly entering when you swiftly grabbed his arms and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, shame coloring your cheeks. “Please… please don’t hurt me.”

Jungkook stopped breathing, the world stopped turning.  He couldn’t believe his luck--his dove, his princess... all his. You would become his in every sense of the word. He will have what no man has ever had before, and never get the chance to take. He kissed at your lips gently and nodded.

“I’d rather cut off my own hand than hurt you even once.” 

Your eyes softened, soothed by his words and actions, and you nodded gently. 

“Take me, Jungkook.”  Your words were brave, and ready.  Jungkook felt his cock twitch with excitement, and he pressed one final kiss to your lips as he lined himself up and pushed in gently.

Jungkook pulled away from your lips to gasp.  Never had he felt such incredible, tight heat.  He could tell by the scrunch of your features that you were adjusting to his thick length. Despite your first climax, your body still resisted the press of his cock inside you.  It felt like scorching wet heat and the tightness alone nearly made the prince cum as he bottomed out.

He remained still within you as your body relaxed.  His hands rubbed gently at your hips and thighs, caressing them sweetly as he whispered his praise to you.

“You took me so well,” he murmured.  “My little dove, so good for me.  You’re doing so well.”

You whimpered out in need, desire for him to move inside you.  The pain melted away to pleasure quickly, and you’re thankful he spent so much time preparing you with his mouth and fingers. The tender care the Prince showered on you made your heart beat rapidly against your chest, working over time like the beat of a bird’s.  

“Are you ready, my sweet?” He asked. He could feel his cock ache with the need to set a pace, to feel the way your walls stroke him, but he would not allow himself such pleasure without your word.

“Take me, Jungkook, I’m yours.”

He moaned loudly, allowing the possessiveness of your voice to spur him to begin.

He started his movements slow and with intention.  Each drag out and thrust in, he monitored your face for any sign of displeasure. When all that crossed your features was blissful pleasure, he moved faster.  

Your body relaxed ten-fold as the man above you began to drill harder into you. The pain of the stretch was nearly gone by now, replaced only by a sizzling bliss that had your mouth gaping open and begging for more. Sweat began to gather at the prince’s brow and you’re taken by how handsome he is, how truly carnal he looks as he pounds into you with no abandon.  

Your walls accommodate him perfectly, gripping him tight while still allowing passage. Jungkook felt as if your very cunt was made for him, molded to be his exact match. He could feel himself nearing closer and closer to the edge of bliss--climbing so high to the peaks of climax.

Your body was racked with pleasure. It poured out of your body in sweet sighs and torrential trembles. With each delicious push and pull of his cock within you, the fire grew and grew. It swirled around your body, clawed at your neck and clouded your mind with smoke. All you knew was Jungkook, his thick length, his warm body, and the way his eyes burned holes into yours.  Each thrust sent you so much closer to another dizzying peak and your fingers gripped at his arms tighter.

He could tell by the rapture on your face that you were close--could feel it in the fluttering of your walls.

“Cum for me,” he groaned. “Let go, little dove. Let me feel you.”

You whimpered needily, groaning as the prince continued to thrust into you at a turbulent speed. He licked his thumb before allowing it to circle your clit, the bundle of nerves nearly screaming to life as he stimulated it.

Jungkook licked his lips as he watched your body come nearly undone at his touch. He could feel the way his body was building and climbing towards a grand finish, one he wanted to bury deep inside you.

“G-going to cum,” he groaned as he increased his strokes. ‘’I will fill you so well, you feel so good..’’

Never had you felt closer to another person, another man. Jungkook was truly the only one in the world for you, and you could never stray away. His hands gripped you tight and possessively as he powered his way to his finish.

“P-please!” You gasped as your vision started to dot with black spots. You couldn’t speak, breath overtaken by gasps and whimpers of need, as your body finally peaked at it’s high. Your moans were loud as you soared into the blissful pool that only Jungkook had ever taken you to. Your walls contracted around him tightly, squeezing and coaxing his cock to release his own pleasure inside you.

Jungkook lasted mere seconds after feeling youl grip him so tightly, and hearing your sweet dulcet voice sing praises and whines. His cock pulsed as he emptied himself into you, hot cum painting your sweet walls and pooling in your womb.

A long moment followed where Jungkook was just.. staring down at your exhausted form from above. His overgrown fringe clung to his clammy skin, lips swollen from biting down on them more often than not, and chest heaving up and down as he emotionally gathered himself back into one piece after shattering for you.

‘‘My love,’’ He whispered as he leaned down over you once more, sweaty skin sticking together. But no matter, he wouldn’t want you any other way right this moment. He gently moved his lips against yours, all while still keeping himself deep inside of you, making sure nothing would be spilled to waste, ‘‘My beautiful Y/N.’‘

A small smile tugged at your lips when he calls you by your first name. You reach out to brush his fringe away from his forehead, combing his dark, soft locks with your fingers, ‘’My dear Jungkook.’’

Jungkook’s heart almost stopped. You’d said a lot of things, you’d even given him your body. But you had never, ever had referred to him with any term of endearment until now. It was always his name, or his title.

‘‘What did you just say?’’ He asked, one hand cupping your face gently to guide your eyes to meet his own. He looked at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but if you tried to name them, it’d be a mix of confusion, joy, and relief.

‘‘My dear,’‘ You paused to place your hand on top of his, leaning your cheek into his palm further, ‘‘Jungkook.’‘

Jungkook’s hot breath fanned your lips as he sighed in content, eyes still fixed on you. He kissed you once, softly, before pulling back to look at you again.

‘‘Please say it now’’ He asked quietly. The hint of sadness and desperation wasn’t evident in his voice, however, his eyes didn’t lie. They were wide, intensely focused on your every single reaction as he anticipated your answer, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

You were already his in every sense of the word, except one. He needed you to say it yourself.

And who were you to resist the prince?

‘‘I’ll be yours.’‘ You finally broke the silence. Jungkook’s eyes flickered between yours with his doe ones, desperately trying to find any sign of lies. But instead, all he could see was utter affection, and your truthful words finally sank in.

‘’Be my wife.’‘ Jungkook continued, leaning his forehead against yours, ‘‘I love you. I promise to always love you. Nobody else will be able to take care of you the way I can.’‘

You nod, a quiet ‘yes’ leaving your lips before you crane your neck to kiss him. You might’ve been confused, frightened, and even sad at times-- but now? You were happy.

Happy to belong to the prince.

Jungkook smiles against your lips, he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have found you. 

Or rather, you had found him.

Either way, it couldn’t have been anything but fate. And.. Jungkook believed in that. 

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[blossom-hwa]

Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS. 

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones. 

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

i.

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

v.

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight. 

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

[depressedacadamia]

Drunken Dares

Prompt + paring: Tattoo Parlour au, ‘night’ + Solangelo 

A/N:  Hellooo- i had the choice between a tattoo parlour au or a flowershop au but I'm already writing a pjo flowershop au so I thought I'd spice it up with a tattoo parlour au! I kinda wanted there to be a part two becuase I wanted a bit of bonding between the two so maybe if i remember, that may happen? Anyway- enjoy  <3 from phi phi!

Read on A03         Writersmonth 2021       Masterlist

“Do I really have to do this?” Will groaned slightly. It was late at night and here Meg was, pushing him in a tattoo parlour.

“Yep!” She hummed as she pushed him forward.He tripped over his own foot as he flung through the double doors. He was about to continue reluctantly before realising the short minion who had forced him here was no longer by his side.

He turned around and frowned. “ Meg? Why aren’t you coming in?”

“I’m underage,” She hummed.

“You know you can just stand to the side?” Will asked, a slightly desperate undettone to his statement which Meg noticed. He was begging her not to leave him in the scary dark tattoo parlour which was full of buff, scary people.

“Sorry- but I must not break the law!”

“Last week you happily started trying to drive my car!” Will yelled at the glass doors. Alas, his yells were ignored as Meg blissfully ignored him as she continued her walk home, leaving William Andrew Solace in a tattoo parlour.

What was he meant to do?Walk up to the guy at the counter and tell him that he wanted a tattoo? He should have never gotten drunk and played truth or dare- he should have known that the first thing Leo would dare him would be to taint his beautiful freckled skin. The worst part ultimately was the fact that he had to get it on his chest.

Perhaps the gods above saw Will’s freak out or perhaps Leo was simply being extra nice when he saw Will in the middle of the parlour looking so out of place it was painful but either way, the next thing Will knew, he was being taken by the wrist towards the counter by none other than Leonidas Valdez; the very bastard who had gotten him into this mess.

“I’m surprised you actually came,” Leo commented.

“Meg forced me,” Will grunted.

“So,” Leo sighed as he tapped at the cigarette in between his fingers, “ Do you know what you’re getting?”

“Uhh… no, not really., How does this work? You tell them what you want and then they stab at your body with a needle?”

Leo let out a small scoff which had smoke billowing out of his lips and nose as if he was a chimney. “ No, darling- they shave, sanitise and then they stab at your body with a needle.”

“That made me feel so much better.”

Ignoring the evident sarcasm, Leo simply smiled. “ You’re welcome, blondie.”

Wil, ruffling at his hair, mumbled, “Shut up.”

Leo, who was significantly enjoying teasing Will, was cut off by Piper- one of the last people Will expected to see at the tattoo parlor. But on a second look, the tattoos on her abdomen spiraling up to her breasts and arms made Will wonder why he never noticed them.

“Oh Will- you’re actually here?” Piper's surprised voice rang out.

“Unfortunately.”

“Well the artist is ready for you,” Piper ushered him towards the dark room, only illuminated by the UV lights.

Will visibly gulped. Leo and Piper couldn’t help but interlock eyes and snort a little- after all, it was simply adorable at how nervous this newbire was.

Will took small steps and the second he passed the door, it slammed shut.

What the fuck- do the doors here have a mind of their own?

“Come in- take a seat,” A voice commanded. Will, who didn’t really have any choice but to listen to what he was being told, fumbled around, trying to figure out where he was meant to be going. It seemed that Will, in his internal chaos, did not notice the tattoo artist's leg propped up to the side and therefore, when Will finally did notice the leg- it had been the hard way.

He tripped and the next thing he knew, his wrist had made a new best friend. Bruised and swollen, Will’s wrist heavily ached- forcing him to let out a small groan of pain.

“Fuck, are you okay?” the voice rang out. Will heard a relative amount of fumbling and heavy footsteps and suddenly the room was flooded with light.

The face that he was met with was not one he was expecting. The boy had mid length hair- while it wasn’t really long, it was flowing over the nape of his neck slightly and it looked like it really got in the way of his eyes. He watched as the boy seperated the pieces of hair covering his eyes, creating an effortless look.

His face radiated an emotion that Will couldn’t describe- sadness? Or was it simply the face of someone who was content with little?

“Are you okay?” The man asked. Will watched- he had never seen such dynamic expressions and the way this man's face morphed into an expression of concern had him wrapt with all.

Will could only nod stupidly, his hand still clutching at his bruised wrist.

“Dya mind if I have a look at that anyway?” The artist insisted as he grabbed a med kit and sat on his spinning chair before wheeling himself towards Will who now sat on the chair that he was originally appointed.

He gently cradled Will’s wrist between his fingers, turning it round and round. His face contorted between emotion of worry and concern.

“It’s okay,” Will re-assured . “ It’s not sprained or broken, just a bit of bruising and swelling. Should be gone by tomorrow morning.”

“You sure?”

“I’m a doctor.”

“Ah,” He smiled slightly. “ I shouldn’t question you, Dr..?”

“Solace- but Will is fine. How about you?”

“Nico- Now let's have a look at what you want huh?” He closed the notebook he had been creating designs in before Will walked in and pulled out a collection of the most popular designs so far.

“These are the trending ones currently but I can always pull out something else if you want. Or if you have your own design that you wanted, I can try with it,” Nico offered. He pulled out a cigarette and flicked his lighter.- once, twice and a third time before grunting and pulling out a different one. Will watched, hypnotized, as Nico lit the cigarette.

Nico looked up and caught Will staring and shyly asked. “ You don’t mind do you?”

“No… but you should try and refrain from smoking. It’s really, really bad for you and I say this as a doctor.”

“You’re the 4th person today who has said that.”

“I’m alarmed that you managed to smoke that many times today,” Will said with concern.

Ignoring what Will had said, Nico continued. “Anyway, have you chosen anything yet?”

Will let out a heavy breath. “ Ah, no. My friends kinda forced me here but nothing here really matches… me.”

“What about this flower? Or the skull? “

Will shrugged. “ I don't think I’d want those on my skin permanently”

Nico nodded and continued smoking, while Will flipped through the latest designs. Nothing seemed to catch his eye as much as something he could have sworn he saw earlier. It was a stylised sun tatoo- nothing necessarily special but it reminded him of his mum- and his home.

“Excuse me,” Wil started, causing Nico to put his cigarette down in the ashtray, “ I was just wondering if the designs in that were available?”

Will pointed to the notebook That Nico had closed earlier. He watched as Nico hesitated. His face seemed to be stuck between wanting to let Will sneak a peek but it also seemed to want to tell him to stop.

However, his hand simply made up his mind and shoved the book across the table in Will’s direction.

Daintily, with the utmost care, Will opened the first page and his eyes almost watered at the immense detail and beauty poured into these designs. It looked like the heart and soul of the artist had been etched into every little petal, every small ray and eventually after gaping at each page he found the design he had spotted earlier.

The sun wasn’t special but it held Will’s eyes so much that Nico told him, “ Close your mouth. You’re practically drooling.”

“This one,” Will pointed to the stylised sun, “ I want this one.”

Nico scanned his eyes over it before humming and nodding. He put out his cigarette and got up.

“Where d'ya want it?”

“Chest- left side,” Will blurted out. He didn’t know why he wanted it there- perhaps because he wanted the thing that reminded him of his mother to be as close to his heart as possible.

Nico nodded as he prepared everything. Then he turned to Will. “ You realise you’ll need to take off your shirt?”

Will blushed and looked away as he started unbuttoning the top of his shirt. Meg had dragged him out of the hospital as soon as his shift had ended and thrown him into the tattoo parlour and therefore he was still wearing a crisp white shirt.

“Do I need to take off the whole thing?”

Nico took a quick look at Will. The sight that met his eyes was surprising- he used to seeing the chest of his clients but for some reason the sight of a very attractive and intelligent young man before him was very different. He seemed to be looking away as a blush graced his cheeks and ears. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough for Nico to see Will’s muscled chest.

How did a doctor have enough time to work out like that?

“Uh... just a bit more, I don’t want the needle to catch on the side of your shirt.” Nico reiterated, even though he was lying.

“Okay, so now, I'm just going to clean the area and then I’ll trace the sketch before tattooing it on. Do you want red or black?”

“Uh- you can choose,” Will sighed, desperate to get it done and over with.

Nico nodded. He slipped on some gloves and wiped at Will’s chest with an antiseptic. Will flinched at the cold wipe and the soft touch of the artist before him .

“Sorry,” Will murmured, “ It’s cold.”

Nico simply nodded as he began sketching the outline of the tattoo. Will tipped his head back, unable to meet the eyes of Nico ro even look at what was happening. He could feel the tickly touch of the pen on his skin and the soft brush of Nico’s glove on his skin every once in a while.

“All done. Now for the painful part. You may feel like you’re getting stung by a bee a lot,” Nico warned. “Try not move a lot, it will make it harder for me.”

Will, who couldn’t formulate words at this point, simply nodded. “I’d let you squeeze my hand, but unfortunately- I need both,” Nico smiled as reassurance.

He heard the buzzing of the gun and braced himself. The needle poked and prodded as he expected and at times he did wish he had stolen some morphine from the hospital beforehand but all in all, he managed to get the tattoo without bursting into tears and without ruining hids tattoo.

“All done,'' Nico said as he covered the tattoo.

“When do I get to see it?” Will asked, curiously, happier that it was over.

“In a few days- it just needs to sink in.”

Wil sat there, unsure of what to do next. He had paid and was now just sitting in an empty room with his tattoo artist. Was he meant to just say goodbye? Wasn't that kind of harsh?

But Will realised, had this been anybody else or any other appointment- he wouldn't want to be staying for any extra time. Did he want to be friends with this guy? Maybe it was that- yes, it would be that. As someone who was socially awkward, Will knew that he liked hanging out with people; he simply wasn't very good at it

Just as he was going to ask for his number, Nico passed him a slip of paper. “ Here’s my number. Call me when you’re free.”

With that and a wink, Will was left in the empty tattoo room.

[neon-junkie]

Vanity is a Sin - Chpt.1

Summary: The last person you expected to fall for is that pretentious man, Javier Escuella, but maybe you're not so different from him after all?

Pairing: f!Reader x Javier Escuella

Word Count: 2709

Rating: SFW

Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Arguments, Bickering, Denial of feelings, Reader has a lot of self-doubts.

Notes: I’ve wanted to write a Javier multi-chapter fic for aaaages, but wanted to do something different for it. So, enemies to lovers it is, my fave trope hehe, but we don’t see much of Javiers negative side, so let’s explore that :0

Next Chapter

It's another chilly day at Horseshoe Overlook. Despite your occasional shiver and constant goosebumps, you're thankful that you're still not stuck in Colter, but that still doesn't mean you can't wish to be somewhere warmer. It seems no matter how many layers you put on, you can't quite get warm, and you question how other gang members are walking around in their summer attire, especially Arthur.

You shiver again and accidentally manage to prick your finger with the needle you're using to sew somebody's patchy pants. "Fuck sake," you mutter under your breath, looking at your finger to inspect the damage. It's nothing, and you know it's nothing, but you're in a grumpy mood, so everything feels tenfold, especially the sting to your fingertip.

You sigh, looking up at the sky, questioning why whatever being that lives up there continues to rain on your parade. It's not just you that's in a bad mood, the whole camp seems off, but Dutch continues to attempt giving his many uplifting speeches whilst he poses in his tent with a cigar in hand, not lifting a finger to do even some basic camp chores.

He's doing the same now, and your eyes gaze over him as you stop staring at the sky. There he is, the man himself, the big boss, his voice cracking every so often; that always brings a smile to your face. Your eyes follow around the rest of the camp: Hosea is the only one stood listening to him. Molly's on the other side of her tent staring into her pocket mirror because for some reason, she no longer has to pull her weight. Bill is still asleep. Mary-Beth and Tilly are beside you, still sewing away. The O'Driscoll is still tied to the tree. Strauss is... doing whatever he does. And there's Javier, gussying himself up in Arthurs mirror, no surprise there.

You'll never understand how these boys get away with doing the bare minimum, whilst yourself and the other women are the only thing keeping this camp together. Everybody knows that if the women decided to up and leave in the night, the men would end up setting the camp on fire, probably attempting to cook their own dinner... no offence to Pearson. There's a fair few, such as Arthur and Hosea, who are able to survive on their own, but you've seen Arthur attempt to do tedious jobs before and just like you, he pricks his fingers every time he sews. At least Hosea has an excuse, being in his grey years, his bones not able to move as they used to, but he makes up for it in other ways.

But Javier? What does he do? Apart from prance around the camp in his designer crocodile boots, spending an hour shaving his moustache every morning... why does he even shave his moustache like that? You asked him once, and he replied "It rubs off from all the friction." Sure, Javier, because you're obviously a very wanted man.

Unfortunately, Mary-Beth and Tilly take quite a liking to him. They've confessed what you would view as sins before, saying they both have a soft spot for the man, to which you scoffed then laughed, and ended up choking from laughing too hard.

"Why are you laughing? I don't see why you two don't get along? He's real sweet and..." Mary-Beth had begun droning on, and you eventually interrupted her with a "Where do I start?"

Needless to say, neither of them agreed with any of your opinions of Javier, apart from him not pulling his weight as much as he makes out to. But oh, he plays guitar, so that means he doesn't have to do any chores because he blares out his music all hours of the night. You've told him to quit playing so you can sleep many times, seeing as your tent is right by the campfire, to which he always glares at you and plays louder. He once even had the audacity to wake Uncle up and begin shouting Ring-A-Dang-Do.

You took your revenge by waking up early and pouring water in his boots. He knew it was you the second he put them on, sighing and glaring at you, but not being confrontational for once. At least he started putting a curfew on his music after that.

You've been manifesting in your thoughts for a while now, not realizing your name is being called out. "Huh?" you almost yelp as somebody taps your shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Tilly asks. "You've been staring into the distance again, didn't even hear us callin' your name."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking," you explain as you turn your attention to them.

"About what?" Mary-Beth questions.

"Nothing that's worth my time."

"Oh, boys?" Tilly questions, making all three of you laugh.

"Unfortunately."

"Well, Mary-Beth and I are all finished here. We're gonna make ourselves look decent and head into town, you coming?"

"Yeah. Let me finish up this, and I'll meet you by the wagon," you reply.

"Alright."

The pair excuse themselves, heading over to their tents to begin looking 'presentable', even though you would happily argue with them about that. They always look incredible, flawless yet effortless, whereas you constantly feel like a drowned rat...

You watch as they wander off, saying hello to Javier, who's still stood in front of Arthurs mirror. He's not even having a shave, he's just been stood there checking himself out for the last ten minutes, or however long it's been. Your brows furrow and you force yourself to tilt your head down, focusing on your final stretch of sewing, eventually finishing up, so you can put them back on the laundry pile and begin getting ready for your day out.

Going into town with your girl friends is always relaxing, something to get you out of camp, when you're not trailing in and out on your own accord. Yes, you know damn-well how to shoot a gun, along with all your other basic survival skills like hunting and fishing. Dutch was reluctant to take you on heists at first, calling you "another Karen, a woman who wants to get her hands dirty when she's needed here."

Dutch wasn't expecting you to put your money where your mouth is, trailing back into camp a few days later with more than enough cash to keep the camp happy. Only that was somewhat of a waste of time now you look back on it, your share being lost somewhere in Blackwater, along with the rest of the camps hard work and progress. Back to square one, yet again...

The sound of a thud startles you, looking over your shoulder to see that the final crate has been loaded into the wagon. The shop helper gives you a wave, and you beckon him over to tip him; he pours out his thanks before going back inside.

"Back to camp?" you question as you turn your focus to Mary-Beth and Tilly, who nod in agreement.

With a flick of the reigns, the three of you begin leaving Valentine, only popping into town to grab a few camp supplies and treats for yourselves. You've fancied a new outfit for a while, and you're excited to try it on later, maybe make yourself look nice so you can... sit by the campfire...

What else is there to enjoy in camp?

The path you're following leads you straight back to Horseshoe Overlook, and you warn the girls of the bump before crossing over the train tracks. A familiar figure can be seen in the distance, and as they approach, you realize it's Arthur on his new mount. He pulls up beside you as you stop the wagon, tipping his hat to the three of you.

"Where are you going?" you question.

"Just headin' into town. I didn't know you girls had just been there," Arthur explains.

"We only went to pick up supplies. What are you going for?" Tilly questions.

"Javier and Charles wanted to meet me at the Saloon, said I'd drop by this afternoon. They must already be there."

"You should get going then, you know what Javier is like," you complain, the words slipping from your mouth.

Arthur laughs at your statement. "You're right," he agrees. "But you two will learn to get along one day, you've gotta if you're gonna be in the same camp together."

"Arthur, there are plenty of camp members that don't get along. You and Micah, for instance?"

"...Yeah, you're right," Arthur hums in frustration. "Forget I said that then... Well, I best be going."

"See you later," the three of you reply.

Arthur gives another little nod and taps his spurs, heading into town, whilst you whip your reigns again and begin your return to camp. 

 By the time you arrive, it's almost sundown, and your evening is spent unloading the wagon and scoffing down your dinner. The night is free to do as you please, so just like you told yourself earlier, you get changed into your new clothes and make yourself look presentable, taking a seat at the campfire with the others and joining in on their story telling.

The evening is going well, relaxing and peaceful for once, even with Uncles banjo playing. All until the sound of heavy hooves come thudding back into camp; you turn to see a handful of the gang members returning from their night in town, only they don't seem too happy. They're huffing and grumbling, nursing what appear to be wounds, and it's easy to piece everything together and realize that they been in a bar fight.

A few of your fellow camp members get up from their seats at the campfire to go and check on them, and as much as you do care, you don't want to overcrowd them. You get up and make your way over to Pearson's wagon, picking out another bottle to drink. You're spoilt for choice, a nice selection of whiskeys and gins at your service, something different from cheap, warm beer.

You pick up a bottle and begin reading the label, checking the alcohol percentage and debating how drunk you want to get tonight. You don't overhear the sound of footsteps approaching, your mind paying no attention to sounds like that as you hear them all the time, but the sound of somebody speaking directly behind you makes you jump.

"That for me?" they ask. You peer over your shoulder to see Javier standing there, his hand rubbing his chin where a bruise is beginning to form.

"Why would this be for you?" you scoff, turning your body to face him, the bottle in your hands.

"Your poor camp member has just been in a fight, yet you won't help nurse them?" Javier questions with a laugh.

"That's your own fault, plus I ain't your mother."

You begin to walk off, but the comment Javier makes forces you to stop in your tracks. "Mary-Beth and Tilly would."

"Go and ask them then," you roll your eyes, turning to face Javier again. Who does he think you are? He begins to softly laugh and the sound makes you gag, so artificial, just like the rest of him.

"But what if I want you to help me? Surely you don't dislike me that much."

"I do, so I'd suggest you ask them."

You try and walk away yet again, and Javier mutters something under his breath. "You'll learn to like me eventually." Another scoffing sound escapes your lips as you frown at him, leaning against Pearson's table and crossing your arms, your bottle in hand.

"You know, I've never seen you wear purple before. It suits you," you smirk.

"Oh, very funny," Javier says as he raises his eyebrows. He approaches you, his strides small and slow, stopping right before you. His hand moves away from his bruise, his skin turning a deeper purple as every second passes, but your eyes are drawn to his; They're dark and blown, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, staring into yours. He's too close for your liking, you can smell the tobacco in his system with every exhale, his breathing deep, still clearly worn out from the fight.

"What's your issue with me?" Javier asks. "I mean, I've never done anything to upset you, not that I know of, but you've always had something against me."

"I've told you before," you begin as you uncross your arms, placing your bottle down on the table and resting your hands on your hips. "You don't do shit around this camp. You'll drag a sloppy score in here and there, but your vanity distracts you from doing some proper work, chores and what-not."

"Vanity?" Javier repeats the word with a laugh. "There's no harm in looking good, at least you're putting some effort in tonight. Did you buy this today?" Javier asks as he goes to tough the fabric of your blouse, but you swat his hand away.

"You're as bad as Micah," you spit at him.

"Mhmm, we both know that's a lie. For starters, I do a lot more than him around here, and you know it-"

"Please, will the pair of you quit it already?" Dutch calls out as he approaches. He must have noticed the way you two were stood so close, squaring up to each other, both too egotistical to let the other talk them down.

Dutch puts his arm out between your bodies, lightly pushing both of you away, forcing you to take a few small steps back. "I've said before that you don't have to get along, but these pathetic arguments happen far too often. Either you both drop this, or I'll have to find a way to make you get along," Dutch threatens, and you know he'll stay true to his word.

You don't bother saying anything, glaring at Javier once more before turning heel and walking away. "You forgot your drink," Javier calls out to you.

"Seems I've lost my appetite," you call back, and you overhear Dutch sigh at your comment.

Part of you feels sick, and you're unsure if that's from the adrenaline pumping in your veins, or the nerves Javier has shaken into you. Why was he stood so close? Your noses were almost touching, and you wouldn't be surprised if he kissed you just to wind you up even more. You try to keep your mind clear as you enter your enclosed tent, taking off your makeup and getting ready for bed, but you can still feel Javier's hot breaths on your skin.

You debate having a towel bath, wanting to wipe away the sin of being so close to that irritating man, but you're already in bed with no motivation to move. As you roll over, the sound of his guitar grows outside, forcing you to place your head under the pillow in an attempt to drown the music out. He's a good musician, and you're happy to admit that, but why does everything about him have to be so... him?

The perfectly coordinated outfits, the way his steel toe boots are always shining, the effortless yet pristine ponytail he always wears, the confidence and vanity in everything he says. He's like one of those flawless characters you've found in awfully written books, no weaknesses or downfalls, no ugly days, everybody loves him, yet his artificialness makes you sick.

And he knows it makes you sick, and he loves to play on it. Tonight isn't the first time he's got up close and personal with you. You know he studies your every move, watching your body language, checking to see if blush grows on your cheeks, searching for your insecurities. The comment he made earlier is still on repeat in your mind... "at least you're putting some effort in tonight." What a smug bastard. He knows how low your self-esteem is, yet you weren't expecting him to pull a Micah and make a comment like that.

But this is what he wants. He wants it to settle in your brain, to weigh you down and make you feel even worse. You just have to not let that happen, but that's easier said than done...

[crescentsteel]

To All the Boys I’ve Loved - The Popular Guy (1)

route: Tooru Oikawa genre: fluff wc: 3.4k

This is a collab from our server @babythotshq. 

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For the last time, he took in the sight of the volleyball gym. This is the last day he’ll ever step foot in one again. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the place while reliving the memories he gained for the last three years. Training, wins, and losses – glory and bitterness, he recalls them all with no regret.

Yet, he found it best to leave the sport behind.

After having his fill, he turned around and found a girl waiting for him. At first glance, it looks like she’s going to confess. She had the look — blushing cheeks, starstruck eyes, and a letter, only it was not just one letter. She was holding one too many envelopes.

“Um. Oikawa-san?” 

He smiles, his signature one when greeting his fans, “Yes?”

She hands him a brown envelope that has ‘Oikawa’ written on it. He usually knows how to react to letters given to him. He’d be ‘happy and excited’ to receive them, but something tells him that this is not a usual letter. 

“It’s not from me, but uhh, can I have a photo with you?” Her voice was a pitch higher as she voiced out her request.

“Of course.” 

She took out her phone with excited hands and they both posed with peace signs. Before she gives him the envelope, she hurriedly gets a pen and scribbles something on the envelope. After she hands it to him, she bows and walks away.

He usually does not bother with fan letters these days. They say the same things anyways, just written differently. Yet, he has a strong feeling that he must read this letter. For the first time in a long time, he’s thrilled to open a fan letter.

When he gets home, he plops himself on his futon and carefully opens the envelope.

Hey,

I know this is weird since we’ve never talked except for that night but hear me out. I kind of like you, not in the sense where i know everything there's to know about you but in a way where if I see you at random times of the day, you just kinda lift my mood…

Maybe it's just because I find you inspiring? 

You were kind of an all around guy, super nice, with a fun personality to the boot. As much as I liked you, I envied you too. How could you make everything look so easy? As an overachiever who grew up burning her candles every damn night, you made it all look effortless and to add it all up, you didn’t even brag! How annoying you are. 

What’s even more annoying is that I can see your profile on magazine spreads and ads as if seeing your handsome face in school wasn’t enough.

I hate how it seems like something you’d do, yet at the same time, something you wouldn’t. Get what I mean? I thought your passion was for Volleyball, leaving modeling just as a hobby, but you do that exceptionally well too.

Indeed you were out of reach and definitely on another level.

Yet that night when I first got to talk to you on the farewell dance, you weren’t on another level. You were just you and it made me realize that maybe I should take a page off your book, “It’s all about a leap of faith, Y/N.” you said.

A leap of faith. Such words from a guy I’ve been crushing on wasn’t something I’d expect. I always thought you played safe, stayed behind safety bars but when I saw that dangerous glint in your eyes, I realized, you never did. 

You were always like that, people were just so caught up with the idea of the model/volleyball player with good grades that they never saw past that. They don’t think about the devotion and commitment you must’ve poured to be good at everything you do. 

I know I won’t be seeing you again and it’s kind of sad to be honest since you kind of brighten up my day but I’ll remember you, especially those words. Probably even buy a signed poster of you someday.

Take care always,

Y/N

Oikawa’s eyes remain at the signature of the letter with surprise and amusement. Y/N? The awkward, timid girl from the dance? He reads the letter once again just to make sure he’s read it right. 

He knows how popular he is, both in and out of school. He’s always approached by random people, mostly girls. Those who greet him and ask for pictures on the streets he immediately forgets. But the students, he somehow can remember their faces, especially when he sees them frequently ogling him at school. Being the captain of the volleyball team while working as a model meant having fans cheer for him on the sides. He doesn’t mind of course. He’s used to it. He knows how to smile for them, talk to them, make them like him even more. 

By the time graduation was just around the corner, the faces of his fans at school were already familiar to him. So when you talked to him at the night of the dance, he had question marks looming on top of his head. Prior to that night, he had no idea who you are. He hasn’t seen you around. He just knew you were in the same year with him because it was the farewell dance for the seniors. 

That whole night was tiring. If it wasn’t the girls asking him to dance, it would be students asking to take selfies and/or asking for his number. He’s used to the adoration and he loves it, revels on it even. But that night was on another level. They didn’t care about his personal space anymore. The dance was their perfect excuse to hog him. 

So when he had the chance, he escaped from the place and took refuge in a restricted area. The dance took place only in the school grounds, so they had closed off certain rooms for equipment storage and preparation materials for the party. He snuck into one of the rooms. He didn’t bother turning on the lights since he did not want anyone noticing that someone might be there. 

He took a seat near the windows and looked at the main grounds from that room. The bonfire was lit in the middle of the place while students frolic around, having the time of their senior year.

He’s always at the center of everything he’s involved with and it was fucking awesome. But sometimes, just sometimes, it gets a little bit too rowdy. Once in a while, It’s nice to sit out like he was doing now and watch from the sidelines as students like him have their moments like this. 

The door suddenly opened, much to his dismay. Was he followed? He made sure he wasn’t. He’s a bit ticked off. Some fans really don’t know when to quit. Maybe he’s been too generous to them.

He heard someone trying to flick open the lights, but the room still remained dark. 

“Huh? The lights aren’t working?” The stranger said. He stayed in his place, hoping that he wouldn’t get noticed and be left alone. Although, the chances of that happening is really slim even though he knows that only the silhouette of his back can be seen from the way he was facing the light of the bonfire. 

Like he predicted, you notice him not long after. But what came out of you wasn’t what he was expecting. 

“Hey! Students are not allowed here. Go back to the grounds.”

He turns around from his seat to look at you. You squint at him, trying to make out his face that was hidden by shadows. But he sees you, how you walked slowly to him so you can identify who he was and how your face contorted from strict to horrified. 

That’s a first. 

Even though you didn’t know it was him, you could at least be glad that it was indeed him. 

As you’re closer now, he confirmed that you weren’t one of them. You didn’t follow him. You found him.

“O-Oikawa san?!”

He executes his ever pleasant smile. “Hi! Do you mind if I stay for just a few more minutes?” Surely, you can give him that. You do know him after all. “Um, well... Students shouldn’t be here.” You responded hesitantly. 

He wanted to applaud you for refusing. It’s been a while since someone denied him of a request, especially a girl. Nothing he could do about it though. He’d rather just find another hiding place instead of convincing you.

He stands up and heads for the door when you suddenly block his way and wave your hands frantically. “Wait wait. Uhh. Err.” You look around as you try to search for the words to say. “Before you leave. Can I ask you something?” Your face is flushed red as you put your hands together and fiddle with your thumbs, obviously nervous about what you were going to say. 

“How do you do it?”

His brows knit together in confusion.

 You must have realized how vague that sounded since you spoke again. “I mean, how are you so good at everything?” The admiration in your eyes wasn’t like the one he sees from everyone else. It was one that showed respect, as if you recognize the hard work he’s put in everything he does. And for once, it felt like someone perceived him as an actual human being. 

“What’s your name again?”

“I-I’m y/n l/n!.” You said a bit too loud with a shaking voice. It was funny.

You must be part of the farewell dance committee since you seemed like you were about to get something from the room for the event. You’re also wearing the school uniform, unlike everybody else who’s dolled up. What a waste. You’re kinda cute.

You’re at enough distance for his arms to reach you and pull you closer. He grabs your waist with his left hand and holds your hand with his right, getting you in a dance position. Your eyes widen. The fluster in your cheeks goes a shade deeper. Your whole body becomes rigid while your hands tremble at his touch. He can literally see your chest rise up and down from breathing too heavily. He almost wants to laugh at your reaction. 

“Oikawa-san?! What’re you doing?” you whisper in a panicked voice. 

He really wasn’t sure, but he felt like teasing you. “We’re still part of the farewell dance, yeah? Indulge me and I’ll indulge you.”

He starts swaying slowly. You follow clumsily with that look of uncertainty and nervousness still transparent in your whole face. He wonders what’s going on in your mind. A lot of others had desperately asked him to dance with them, which he all declined because accepting one invitation meant accepting all of the others. 

But within the small confines of this dark room, he can do as he pleases without any regard to mindful eyes.

“Why aren’t you looking at me though?” You grimace at his question. “I’m not used to being this close to good-looking people.” You bluntly said, your expression is still of discomfort. You really are interesting despite the aloofness you show him. 

Still, you moved with him to the faint rhythm of the music outside. 

“How I do it, you ask?”

That’s when you meet his gaze, your eyes curious and attentive to the next thing he’s about to say. Your whole body loosens up, as if you forgot that he was holding you.

“It’s all about a leap of faith.” He was awaiting the look of puzzlement in your eyes. He knew how obscure his answer was. 

But it didn’t come. Your eyes retained the same inquisitiveness they held before.

“How can you sound so sure about something uncertain?”

Smart girl. You clearly understood what he meant. Maybe he can give you a real answer, one that he hasn’t said in any interview for it showed a dark side of him that doesn’t sit well with his image.

“Hmmm. Between you and me, y/n, when I hit something,” he dips his head just a few inches from your ear. 

“I hit it.. until it breaks.”

He felt you shiver at his words. Then he let you go and patted your head while you were frozen in place. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said while exiting the dark room.

After that dance, he never saw you again. He didn’t think much of it. If he’d be honest, it’s like it never happened. There were no traces, no witnesses, only you two in the dimness of that enclosed room. The exchange you had was just as brief as well. 

But your letter, it ties up with what little words were said between the two of you. The admiration is just the surface of it. Beneath that was perceptiveness, envy, and compassion. Four different things melded coherently to give a refined message of encouragement, all in the form of this letter.

He has to see you. The letter needs to be answered. 

Only then he realizes that you’re both senior students who already graduated. He didn’t even see you on campus as students. How the fuck can he even find you now that he has no chance of seeing you at all?

He quickly gets the envelope to see anything that might be a clue to how he can find you.

And there it was. A number written hurriedly at the edge of the envelope with a note that said ‘call me’.

The corner of his lips shoot up. He’s a hundred percent it wasn’t your number. It couldn’t be you based on how refined you wrote that letter. 

It was the girl from earlier, but he doesn’t mind. At least you’re traceable now.

—

He was able to get your number from your sister in exchange for a video greeting. Unfortunately, your sister was texting non-stop so he had to block her number after he got what he wanted.

He didn’t text you yet. First, he wanted to see the university you decided to go to. It was one piece of information he managed to extract from your sister. 

He’ll take a look around first. He wanted to see what uni life is like since he’s not going to attend one. He couldn’t tell if it was a busy day or there’s this many people on a daily basis. A few minutes of walking around and he could already hear the murmurs in the background. 

‘He’s so hot.’  

‘Does he go here?’

‘He looks like a celebrity’

Well, it couldn’t be helped. It was him, Tooru Oikawa. Even if they don’t know who he is, his looks attract attention.

Maybe he should’ve worn his cap and facemask. Admirers will just get in the way of seeing you. Maybe he’ll just come back later. 

He’s about to dip when two girls approached him. “Hi! Are you a freshman like us?”

Too late. He should’ve left sooner. When one comes, they’ll start flocking at him right after. Since he’s already caught, it wouldn’t hurt to accommodate onlookers.

“No, sorry. I’m just visiting someone.” He replied warmly. Another girl comes his way, followed by another, and another. Yep, just like he anticipated.

“You’re looking for someone too?” One girl asked, then her friend whispered something to her. It was supposed to be a whisper but it was loud enough for him to hear. “These hot men better not be looking for the same girl. I swear I’ll lose it if they are.”

He remembers the other colored envelopes your sister was holding. 

Ahh. So he was not the only one, huh? The original plan was there was no plan. He just wanted to see you again and talk about the letter. But based on what he heard, he has competitors now. 

That just won’t do. 

He tuned out the girly muttering and looked for a way to flee from the scene. 

Among the crowd he was attracting, there you stood, paralyzed in the middle of the path with your eyes expanded in horror. 

Great! He found you.

He filled his lungs with air. 

“Yahoooooo! Y/N!” He waved enthusiastically at your direction which caused everyone else to look at you. Instead of acknowledging him, you took a step back, turned around, and half-ran away. 

You really are funny if you honestly thought you could outrun him.

“Excuse me, ladies. That’s her I came to visit.” He hears the dejected groans but pays them no mind as he makes his way to you.

With his long strides, he didn’t really have to put as much effort in chasing as you did in running away from him. He’s impressed at your dedication though. You didn’t even dare look back. That’s good for you. At least you won’t see him right behind you already. 

He wouldn’t mind following you a little bit more just to see how long you can last before you turn your head back and check where he is. But he needs to be the first recipient of the letter who gets to talk to you. He has an idea to throw off anyone who could possibly be around, waiting for their own chance to go talk to you.

He picks up the pace just a little so he can close in on you. When you are within reach, he loops an arm around you which causes you to stop dead on your tracks. 

“That’s not nice of you, y/n. You heard me calling you.” 

You didn’t have to look at him. He knows that you know it’s him. You gulp before facing him. A terrified look spread on your face upon seeing his, verifying that it was truly him. 

You looked around nervously, assessing the situation you were in. You saw something that unnerved you, but he couldn’t tell what it was. You suddenly remove his arm, only to take his hands.

You spoke with a worried expression.

“Come with me.”

You drag him haphazardly, leading him somewhere in the university. He has no idea what’s running in your head as he lets you take him away. Though, he doesn’t mind. You’re essentially the reason why he came anyways. 

You reach inside one of the buildings with less people. Still on full alert, your eyes skimmed the area before going inside one of the rooms, pulling him with you. Once inside, you let go of his hand.

Without catching your breath, you yelp at him. “Why are you here?!”

He reaches for his back pocket and takes out the brown envelope. “Cause of this.” He smiles sweetly while he waves the enclosed letter at you, then puts it back to where it came from. “Your sister’s a real gem for going out of her way to give it to me,” his statement drenched with irony. 

Instead of answering him, you walked three steps away and faced the wall. You softly knock your head against the wall, looking down as you mutter, “What did I do to deserve this?” Followed by another knock, “What did I do to deserve this?”

Before you can do it the third time, he moves toward you and places his back hand where your forehead is supposed to hit again. You look at him distressfully, not removing your forehead against his hand. “Why are you here?”

“I just told you why, Y/n-chan.”

You stand up straight and sigh wearily. “I mean why even bother? I’m sure you get tons of those on a regular basis.”

You were right. Among other letters, he only read yours. Even though you didn’t intend to send the letter, he thought you’d be at least glad that he went after you. Instead, you were questioning his decision of doing so. Not once in any of your limited interactions had you agreed with him. 

He really just wanted to talk to you, initially at least. But you prove to be more and more entertaining that he’s about to do something totally abrupt. 

He supports his weight by leaning his elbow against the wall where his hand is. He slightly tips his head to the side as his smile veers from pleasant to haughty.

“I bothered cause I want to ask you out.” 

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