#i know it didn’t he’s just having a shit time probably but
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goddamnitmahtin · 2 days ago
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This is too good… I must add because what if…
During one of their meetups
Tim, sleep deprived and desperate for coffee, “Robu…. I need you.” He slumped onto Danny’s couch
Now normally, Danny wouldn’t prefer to be referred to as a coffee brand all the time but… this was Tim. And it was Tim’s favorite coffee… so in a way… it was like he was Tim’s favorite coffee? It was hard to explain but Danny knew that he liked it a lot. More than he probably should have.
He placed the cup of coffee into his fake boyfriend’s hands. His very big hands. Course from working so hard being all heroic in the field of duty. Calloused and bruised, no doubt broken and reset dozens of times. The hands of a vigilante who was fully and utterly alive.
Danny was never jealous of Tim for that. Infact… he was very happy for Tim that he was so alive. Heartbeats are a good thing of course. And his was very nice. Steady and always going 100 miles a minute from the amount of caffeine he consumed. He supposed he should stop providing said caffeine but he spent his whole life being selfless. He was going to let himself be selfish this one time. He didn’t want to stop seeing his fake boyfriend.
“How long has it been this time?” Danny asked, trying not to sound too suspicious, “Since you’ve slept?”
He watched as the adorable mess of a man slumped over his couch sighed, “Um- 6- no- 8? Um- 74 hours or so?”
Well it wasn’t as bad as sometimes at least. He knew that it was bad for him to be awake so long. Sometimes on their “fake dates” Danny suggested movie nights just so he would take a nap. He wanted Tim’s heart to keep beating so he could keep listening to the sound.
Danny nodded, “Busy man you are.” He made sure his body blocked the coffee table from Tim’s view. He hadn’t properly put his mail out of sight before his vigilante had come to see him and he knew that Tim was nothing if not a detective.
Tim noticed the awkwardness coming from him immediatly, “Hey why are you hiding your mail from me?”
Dammit Tim why do you have to be so smart and perfect all the fucking time-
Danny laughed nervously, “I’m not- doing that…”
Tim sat up and gently adjusted Danny out of the way to look at the papers, grabbing him by the waist to do so.
Danny swooned only a little when he felt those big hands on his hips. Momentarily, he very much forgot why he was hiding his mail from Tim. But not long enough for the distraction to stop him from trying to grab the papers before Tim could reach them.
He failed.
Tim looked at the eviction notice in his hand, “Danny you never told me- I could have given you more money?!” He looked bewildered and confused. And more than that. Danny could tell there was a bit of fear in his eyes. He understood. He felt it too.
“Money isn’t the problem Tim, you give me more than enough,” Danny said fidgeting with the tracker fashionably dangling from his ear, “Everyone in the building got one. Ms. Abernathy sold it under the table to some shady company.”
Tim looked outright pissed, “What company is it?”
“I don’t remember but I remember hearing the name of it and thinking it sounded fake as hell. Probably why we are all getting kicked out instead of our leases transferring to the new owner. Ms. Abernathy doesn’t want her tenants in a bad situation,” Danny explained. He may not have been a vigilante anymore but hey, he still knew shady shit when he saw it.
Then a ding from Tim’s Nightwing tracker. And then immediately after, he feels another presence outside the window. The other birds were spying again.
“Move in with me,” Tim blurted out.
Danny… well Danny…. Danny fucking short circuited.
“Wha-?” was all he could get out. Normally he was better at improvising but ancients be damned, the cutest man ever just asked him to move in with him.
“Look I know I said we should wait since I didn’t want you in harms way if any rogues found my apartment but…” Tim wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist AGAIN, “I trust you to be able to defend yourself (after Danny broke into the Batcave as Phantom, Danny told him everything because why wouldn’t he) and honestly… I’de love having you around more often Robu.”
Danny’s breath caught as he felt those callouses on his hips again. He watched Tim stand to look him eye to eye and felt his entire core purr as one of those calloused hands moved to his cheek. Tim was really playing it up.
Danny could play it up too, “Aw is the tracker not enough anymore Timothy?” He wrapped his arms around Tim’s neck, bringing his face closer, “Of course I’ll move in with you. But don’t think I’ll be taking it off.” (Danny was referring to the tracker)
Tim smiled, “Don’t you dare.”
Then they kissed. Like on the lips. Cuz they were acting. Yeah, that. It didn’t stop Danny from adoring how Tim tasted of coffee though.
The next minute they were packing a few bags of Danny’s things and heading off to the new apartment.
While his core buzzed excitedly about the future of much more close proximity, Danny’s mind couldn’t help but wander off a little. They had gone this far. And Tim had a nickname for him. Maybe he should come up with one for Tim? He called him Tim or Timothy mostly, sometimes throwing other names in there to see if they stuck but nothing ever did. He called him Birdie once and the man gave him the biggest glare he had ever seen. It was attractive but not the response he was hoping for.
Danny knew a lot about death. Obviously. He also knew the irony of Tim’s vigilante persona Red Robin. The most alive man he had ever met used the name of a bird of death. Most people only know about the associations from cardinals, many stating that the dead send the bird to their loved ones as reminders of them.
What not as many people knew was that this was also extended to red robins. Red robins also had a double meaning when it came to the dead as they represented rebirth and starting anew. The same meaning as an upright death card in the tarot deck.
If anything… of the two of them Danny was the red robin. Tim was more of a…. swan. Yeah a swan. Loyalty, fidelity, and grace. Swans also mate for life but Danny wasn’t going to think about that. He knew Tim probably didn’t do that kind of thing like ghosts did. But it was a nice thought that he wasn’t going think about at all.
He set down the box with his clothes in it. He didn’t have very many. Most of the clothes he had were from before he moved here and most of that was destroyed in Amity Park when his parents found out what he was. It was… a lot of fire.
The rest of the clothes he had… well he kinda slowly stole them from Tim whenever he finally decided to shower and crash out whenever he stayed the night.
It wasn’t weird. He trusted Danny to wake him up before he had to leave for work. It wasn’t weird at all. Infact… Danny’s core quite liked it whenever he would stay.
“Well that’s all of my stuff,” he said.
Tim nodded, looking at all 4 boxes and 1 backpack, “Well it’s a good thing you pack so light. Too bad that couch wasn’t yours. It was comfy as fuck.”
Danny chuckled, “The bed wasn’t mine either.”
At that Tim laughed as well, “I know Robu. It was far too comfortable for you to afford.”
Danny scoffed, though the thoughts of his hometown that were brought up by how little stuff he had didn’t leave completely, “Wow thanks.”
Tim’s posture straitened. Dammit. Tim always fucking knew.
“What are you thinking about,” he asked, getting close. He always did that. Got close. He knew Danny sought comfort in physical contact. He could hear a difference in Tim’s heartbeat from the genuine concern.
Danny looked up at him, “Amity… my parents…”
Tim nodded, “Do you want to talk about it or a distraction?”
Ancients, this man was so fucking perfect.
“Distraction please,” Danny sighed, letting his head fall against Tim’s chest. He wanted to listen to his heartbeat. It was nice. And Tim held him for a while just like that. Talking about how he was going to buy a brand new bed for Danny and that after that, he was going to make 3 new tracker earrings all in different colors so that he could always have one on him no matter the outfit (As if Danny didn’t wear the silver one he already had everywhere).
One day… one day maybe it could be real. But until then… having Tim like this was going to have to be enough. It was better than having never met him at all. He couldn’t let go of his swan.
Extra:
*a few days into them living together*
Danny on the phone: So yeah I’m living with Tim now.
Jazz on the other line: So he’s your boyfriend? You could have just said that Danny.
Danny blushing furiously: N-no!
Jazz: Danny… from what you’ve told me, you live together, you eat together, you do laundry together, he knows your past, you know his…. you sleep in the same bed!
Danny: I- well- the new one hasn’t come in yet and before that it was only sometimes!
Jazz: Uhuh. And denial is a river in Egypt.
Danny: Jazz….
Jazz: Daniel the man has a tracker in your ear! So, what did you decide to call him?
Danny: *blushing profusely* I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Jazz: You can’t hide from me. I know your brain Daniel Fenton! He has a nickname for you so obviously you came up with one for him.
Danny: Fine… he’s… my Swan.
Jazz: ….. (processing) …. (Google searching the meaning)…. (Reading) …. Danny you are so insufferably corny. I hope you know that.
Danny smiling: He reminds me all the time.
Jazz smiling wider: Uhuh.
Danny, working as a cashier: Can I help you?
Tim half-deranged: Please I just want a cup of coffee
Danny squinted, then pulled out a binder: I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-
Tim: NO. THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!
Danny leaning in to whisper: Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash.
Tim: how much? Five hundred, six hundred or hell even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want.
Danny: Chill dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine.
Tim: It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand and Bruce bought them out just to make sure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!
Danny: okay okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?
Jason three weeks later in Bat cave: Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention.
Dick: What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!
Bruce: I also thought that was Tim boyfriend but if it's a drug dealer we have to help him.
Tim hiding in the shadows: shit.
Tim texting Danny: If anyone asks your my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies
Danny: who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend.
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rafesweetie · 2 days ago
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⋆˚࿔ the way 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ — jj maybank and pogue!princess!reader
“ you a princess to the public, but a freak when it’s time, “
cw ; making out, reader tries to go further, ‘mama’ and ‘princess’ nickname, drunk!reader.
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jj had bought the hot tub a year ago, during a moment of rage and upset, and he thought the pogues would instantly return his reckless decision and get the restitution money back — news flash, he was wrong.
there have been many parties in the fun hot tub, getting drunk and splashing around with the pogues, tonight was no different. it started out normal and fun, sipping drinks and giggling and talking about stuff that would make no sense to a sober person. then kie and pope left to have some ‘alone time.’
“oh my god, jj, you know what that means right?” you giggling, sipping your vodka pink lemonade.
“what, mama?” he knows what, he’s just entertaining you because you’re cute when you’re drunk — not like he’d ever admit to thinking that.
“means theyre gonna go do it,” john b even laughs at that, which makes you laugh more. “thought you liked her, jayj,” you say after the giggles stop.
“who? kie?” he asks, faking obliviosness.
“mhm,”
he shakes his head. “nah. no, she’s all pope’s. plus, shes like, a bop, always going after another guy,”
“ew, jj, don’t say bop,” john b cringes.
“then who do you like?” you ask, too drunk to care that you’re prying.
“can’t tell you that, ‘s a secret,”
“jayj, thats no fun!” you pout, gently pushing his bicep which makes him laugh. “just tell me, probably won’t even remember tomorrow,”
“yeah yeah. maybe later,”
sarah whispers something to john b and he makes up some shitty excuse and leaves.
“dunno why everyone is hooking up,” you say. “‘s dumb, don’t like being the only single one,”
he rolls his eyes. “i’m single too, mama, y’not the only one, i feel you,”
“yeah, but you like someone. you always get who you like, it’s how you work,”
“what, and you don’t? huh? remember in sophomore year when you kissed topper thornton because you had that kook phase?”
“it was a peck, we didn’t even make out,” you argue. “never made out with anyone before,” you murmur under your breath.
his eyebrows furrow. sorry, did he hear you right? “what?” he asks, implying that you repeat yourself louder.
“i’ve never made out with anyone before.” you admit a bit louder.
“c’mooon,” he takes a sip of his beer. “that’s not true. you’re drunk, stop lying,”
“m’not lying!”
the water moves as he gets a bit closer to you. “y/n, im 100% sure you’re lying. i mean come on, you’re the prettiest girl on the island, you’ve even got kooks, like — rafe cameron type shit — going after you. and you’ve never made out with someone?”
you splash him with the hot water. “stop rubbing it in,”
“hey hey, not trying to be mean, mama,”
“just because you’re always making out with girls doesnt mean that everyone does. you’re a player,” the insult is obviously not said seriously.
“hey, i ain’t a player, i just..” you roll your eyes. “you’re gross,” you say, but you’re back to smiling.
“i could always help you out. i mean cmon, it would be fun, having someone you’re close to being your first. not some random kook,”
“what do you mean?”
“i’m just saying that if you need it, i got it. i got it everyday.”
so you’re not exactly sure when you ended up on your best friend’s lap, but you really like it. being on top of jj maybank, the cutest surfer and pogue in town, a literal light in the OBX. you’re having fun, giggling between kisses when he says something silly or gets dramatic when you nip his lower lip. it’s like he’s putting on a show to make you more comfortable. your hand is tracing his abs underneath the water, feeling him up, your other hand on his shoulder. his hands are everywhere — like, literally everywhere your pink bikini doesn’t cover. it’s clear he’s been wanting to do this for a while.
you two take breaks to have a sip of your drinks and get more drunk and have more fun. he tries a sip of your vodka lemonade and cringes at the sweetness, and you giggling and kiss him again. your lipgloss is making his lips and neck and jaw all sticky. he wonders where you got so good at this.
you go to feel him through his swim trunks, and he stops you, grabbing your poorly polished hand. “what?” you ask, smiling dropping.
“hey, c’mon, don’t wanna steal all your firsts in one night,” he squeezes your waist.
“when did you become responsible?”
“since now.”
you groan. “but i love the way you make me feel. do you not like me like that?”
“hey, princess, i got some feelings for you i’m not gonna get bored of. but let’s take it slow for me too, mkay mama? so it’ll be a first for me too.”
with that, you nod and go back to kiss him.
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writella · 1 day ago
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Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.
Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!
A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡
Daryl Dixon loves kissing.
He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.
Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.
The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.
This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.
The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.
The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.
Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.
The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–
–kissing.
One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.
He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.
It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.
Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.
You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.
Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”
And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.
Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.
These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.
Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.
Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.
Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.
This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.
That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.
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stars-obsession-pit · 2 days ago
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I’ve seen this idea mentioned sometimes that the Joker has something set up where if you kill him, he infects you with something that tries to make you into another Joker. I have no idea if that has any basis in the comics - it hasn’t turned up in any of the stuff i’ve read - but either way imagine using that with a “Danny kills the joker” story.
He might be partially protected thanks to not being fully human, but he doesn’t know. All he can tell is that he’s at least somewhat affected. It’s not like he knows of any examples of this happening before. Maybe his powers saved him, or maybe the toxin wouldn’t be fully effective on a normal person either. Or perhaps it just acts slowly, or it prevents him from realizing how far it’s warped him. He can’t tell.
He’s getting paranoid, he knows. But what else can he do? He can’t just ignore it and give in. He hates this. Why did this have to happen to him? Is there some force in the universe determined to ruin everything for him? Is his whole life some cosmic joke? He should burn it all down, then they’ll see who’s the joke—
no.
He refuses to do that. He doesn’t want to do that. He is was a hero, right?
But he was hated then, too. And now he doesn’t even have a respite. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him whenever he goes outside. He knows they’re judging him, waiting for him to snap. The one that try to help are clearly just trying to avoid him targeting then first. He hates it. He hates them. If he makes them fear him, maybe their stares will stop. No, no, he’s trying to avoid that. It is true that it might be safer for his loved ones if he drives them away though…
Maybe he should turn himself in. That could keep them safe. But what if they try to study him again, cut into his brain and see what makes him tick just like the GIW did?
Jason reaches into his jacket and begins to draw his pistol, readying for a fight. Neither hide nor hair of the Joker has been seen in days, and he’s constantly on edge. And he just heard the distinctive sound of sobbing laughter of a Joker Toxin victim. Part of him wanted to rush in guns blazing, but he forced himself to move slowly, carefully. He was not walking into a trap again.
Peaking into the room, he saw a single figure sitting within; a person, curled up in the corner with head in hands. Shit. He re-holstered his gun and began to approach slowly.
They didn’t seem to notice him, even as he stood right beside them and took in their appearance more closely. It was a boy, probably not much younger than him but looking much smaller in fear. His fingernails were chewed bloody, with more blood staining all around his mouth. His skin was incredibly pale, and Jason couldn’t tell if it was from a natural pallor, fear, or some sort of chemical effect. Jason reached out to touch his shoulder, and the boy suddenly jerked back and scrambled away, only seeming to notice him now.
“S—stay back!” he yelped. Jason thought his eyes flashed green for a moment, but he assumes it must have been the light. More importantly, the bloody lips clearly weren’t just from the boy’s hands; there were sizable wounds in his cheeks, presumably from more chewing.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jason said, showing his empty hands and trying to be reassuring.
“Stop lying! That’s what they all say! No one ever actually cares.”
“I promise you I’m telling the truth. Here— I’ll take a step back now. I’m not going to attack you. But you do need medical attention—I can get you an ambulance.”
“No– I can’t– no hospitals,” the boy hiccoughed. “Not safe.”
“How about a private clinic? I know some that won’t ask questions.”
“No, it’s not them! I’m not safe! I’m a ticking time bomb! I killed—” he broke himself off. When he spoke again, it was quiet, almost a confession, “I– I can’t, I refuse to be like him. I won’t follow in his footsteps.”
“Like who?”
“The Joker.”
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idyllic-ghost · 1 day ago
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Title: INK'D Hearts: Tattoos and Tangled Sheets Pairing: tattoo artist!hongjoong x afab!reader Genre: tattoo shop au, strangers to lovers, romantic, fluff, angst, smut, opposites attract Wordcount: 26.7k Rating: 18+
Synopsis: All you wanted was to have your first tattoo done and over with. How were you supposed to know that your tattoo artist would be this cute? For the sake of your sanity, you try to get over how good he looks—but fate seems to have other plans. Although you keep meeting, and even if you seem to fit well together, there's something, unbeknownst to you, holding Hongjoong back.
Warnings: reader is described as feminine but uses gn pronouns, corruption kink mentioned, dom/sub dynamics, kinky stuff happens, mentions of feeling insecure, lack of experience on reader's part, the rest of atz make an appearance briefly and are being a little annoying, underground band!atz, hongjoong and reader are opposites (hongjoong being more edgy, while reader is a little softer), mentions of smoking
Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.
MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.
A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why
Thank you @wongyuseokie for making this banner for me!
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The music was loud in your headphones, but you couldn’t make out any of the words the band was singing - it was mostly there to distract you from your thoughts and the bustling city around you. For some reason, everyone and their mother decided to go out today. Walking towards the tattoo shop, you were forced to sneak around groups of people and snake through crowds. Ink’d was right around the corner of the popular market, a place which, unbeknownst to you, was holding a special event today. However, the crowds of people thinned out as you turned the corner down an alley. There were cafés, clothing stores, and hair salons in every other building. On top of each were fancy apartments, probably owned by the same people for the past forty years. However, your eyes didn’t wander much; as soon as you saw the sign for the shop, you didn’t need to look elsewhere. 
Looking down at your phone, you saw you were just on time for your appointment. Not even that could bring down your nerves. This was your very first tattoo appointment, and you had no idea what to expect. Some of your friends had tattoos, and their stories ranged from pretty okay to frightening. With their help, you found Ink’d — your friend, Seonghwa, had recommended you to go to one of the tattoo artists there. After looking through his work on Instagram, you decided to reach out. He was accommodating to your needs even over email and asked you to come in today to see what he could do for you. Despite all of the help and how kind the artist seemed to be, you were still nervous. 
As you stood in front of the tattoo shop, you debated on not going in. You could send an email to the artist and tell him that you were sorry, but you just couldn’t go through with this. It would be rude on such short notice, but you were practically shitting yourself in fear at the thought of having needles poke your skin with ink. The reflective surface of the doors mocked you, but you still couldn’t go in. The shop wasn’t big, but it didn’t need to be to get your attention. The walls were painted dark blue, and the sign that hung above the door was in the shape of a splotch of ink. In the middle of the sign, in big bold letters, it said INK’D. Great. Even the sign intimidated you. 
You looked down at yourself, at your baggy pants and oversized sweater - anything to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Was it good enough for this place? You wouldn’t know until you walked inside. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open… but it didn’t open. On the handle of the door, it very clearly said ‘PULL’, something you had managed to miss. Pushing down the embarrassment for the sake of the tattoo you were about to get, you pulled the door open and walked inside. 
The tile floors looked old like they had been there since the building was made. The edges of the pretty design were chipped, and a few places were missing entire tiles. It was a part of its charm. The walls, on the other hand, were newly painted white - but you couldn’t tell seeing as they were filled with frames. From floor to ceiling, there were paintings and pictures of all kinds covering the shop’s walls—posters of various artists, photos of artwork and clients, and photographs from abstract to realistic. Your attention was suddenly drawn to the reception. A man with cherry red hair and a playful smile stood behind the desk.
“Hi, can I help you?” he asked.
The first thing you noticed about him was how his eyes pierced your soul. His gaze was kind yet powerful, to the point where you almost wanted to look away. This look was only amplified by the thin layer of liner that lined his eyes. His bright red hair looked like it was slightly grown out, but it wasn’t long enough to cover the many piercings along his earlobes. Silver jewelry dangled from his ears, they matched the silver chain around his neck and the rings that adorned his fingers. The tight, black t-shirt he was wearing revealed his toned arms covered with ink. Delicate designs and images adorned his skin, and you could only imagine how many tattoos he had. A few peeked out from under his collar, but you couldn’t make out what the black ink on his neck was supposed to be. You could study this man for hours, but you had to answer him at some point.
“Uh… yes! Hi.” You approached the desk as you fiddled with the edge of your sleeves. “I’m here for an appointment… it should be under Y/L/N Y/N, I’m here to meet Kim Hongjoong.”
“Oh, Y/N, hey…” He looked at his computer, the smile still playing on his lips. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Hongjoong.”
He looked up at you again, his eyes locking onto yours with that same piercing gaze that seemed to see right through you. A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt yourself growing weak in the knees. This was the man who was going to tattoo you? The thought of the needle was already enough to make your heart race, but now, you had to contend with the added pressure of trying not to make an absolute fool of yourself in front of the impossibly attractive tattoo artist.
His sharp jawline and the confident way he carried himself only added to your nervousness. You watched as he adjusted his glasses, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as if he could sense your inner turmoil. He turned back to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard – his nails were painted black, the polish chipped around the edges and almost completely scratched off on some nails. The stark contrast against his fair skin was striking.
As he continued typing, you couldn't help but steal glances at his hands, wondering about the stories behind each stroke of polish. What kind of person was he outside of this tattoo parlor? Your mind raced with questions, each one adding another layer to the mystery that was this man.
When he finally turned back to you, a professional yet warm smile on his face, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “First tattoo, right?” he asked, his voice smooth and reassuring.
“Yeah, it is.” You nodded and looked around the shop while Hongjoong kept typing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a tattoo shop before.”
“Is that why it took you so long to get in?” he said in a teasing tone.
You looked back at him, only to see him grinning. His smile was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly despite your nerves. In his hands was a clipboard with a paper on it, which he handed to you along with a pen. Your eyes widened as you realized that the glossy, dark walls were actually windows, through which he could very much see outside. The realization added a new layer of vulnerability to your already jittery state.
“Sorry, I’m just teasing,” he quickly added, his voice softening. “I get that you’re nervous. So, why don’t you fill this form out, and then we’ll talk over what we’re going to do today? Does that sound good, love?”
Your breath hitched in your throat at the unexpected pet name, and instead of a coherent answer, an awkward cough escaped your lips. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you clutched the clipboard to your chest, nodding quickly before making your way over to one of the couches in the waiting area. The soft leather cushions welcomed you, and you sank into them, wishing you could stay there instead of going through with your appointment.
With a sigh, you placed your bag beside you and began to fill out the form. Your hands trembled slightly as you scribbled your name, date of birth, and other required details. The background noise of the shop – the hum of the tattoo machines, the low murmur of other conversations, and the soft rock music playing in the background – started to blend into a soothing symphony, helping to calm your racing heart.
You glanced up occasionally, watching Hongjoong as he moved confidently around his workspace. There was something mesmerizing about the way he carried himself, a blend of focus and ease that only came from years of experience. It was reassuring to know you were in capable hands.
As you continued to fill out the form, your mind wandered to the design you had chosen. It was something personal, a symbol of strength and transformation that you had wanted for years. Now, on the brink of making it a permanent part of you, the mixture of excitement and apprehension was almost overwhelming.
When you finally finished the form, you took a deep breath and stood up, clutching the clipboard as if it were a lifeline. You made your way back to Hongjoong, who looked up from his computer with a reassuring smile.
“All done?” he asked, his tone gentle.
You nodded, handing him the clipboard. “Yeah, all done.”
“Great,” he said, scanning the form quickly before setting it aside, and he looked through them before giving you a pleased smile. Maybe it was your nerves, but your heart jolted at his smile. You wanted – no, needed – to please him like that again. “Let’s go to my studio and get started, yeah?”
His studio had the same intricate, patterned tiles on the floor as the waiting room, their glossy finish reflecting the ambient light and adding a touch of elegance to the space. However, the walls were painted a deep, matte black, providing a stark contrast that made the room feel both intimate and edgy. The black surface served as a canvas for vibrant spray paint art – swirls of neon colors and abstract designs that burst forth with energy and creativity. Interspersed among the graffiti were various posters, some showcasing famous tattoos, and others featuring artwork from local artists, lending a personal touch to the décor.
In one corner of the room, a small, well-organized desk sat neatly against the wall. On its surface were a sleek laptop, a modern desk lamp casting a warm glow, and a few neatly stacked papers. The desk exuded a sense of efficiency and order. Beside it stood a modest chair, perfectly pushed in and out of the way, maintaining the room's open and uncluttered feel.
The focal point of the studio was undoubtedly the tattoo chair, positioned prominently in the middle of the room. It was upholstered in smooth black leather, looking both comfortable and professional. Adjacent to it was a matching black leather stool, presumably for Hongjoong to use while working. Next to the chair stood a metal cart, meticulously organized with an array of tattooing materials – inks in a spectrum of colors, sterilized needles, and various other tools of the trade, all within easy reach.
The room was imbued with a sophisticated aroma that hinted at luxury and care. The air was filled with the delicate scents of bergamot, blackcurrant, and jasmine, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and intoxicating. You couldn't quite tell if the source of this enchanting fragrance was the candle burning softly on his desk or Hongjoong's own cologne. Either way, the scent wrapped around your senses, creating a foggy, almost dreamlike state as you took it all in.
Hongjoong moved closer to you, his presence both reassuring and electrifying. The scent intensified as he approached, enveloping you completely and making everything else fade into the background. His hand hovered right behind your upper back, guiding you towards the tattoo chair.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “You can sit down right here and we’ll discuss what I can do for you today.”
He took his laptop from his desk and sat down on the stool next to you. You jumped onto the tattoo chair, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Looking down at the floor, you saw Hongjoong’s polished leather boots next to your beat-up sneakers. Everything about him was somehow messy and pristine at the same time — delicate and coarse.
“You got my design idea, right?” you asked to break the silence.
“I did. It’s pretty.” He looked up at you with a friendly smile. “I took the liberty of drawing something up with it as inspiration, do you want to have a look?”
Before you could respond, Hongjoong turned the laptop so that you could see the design. It was a lotus flower, just like your reference picture, and connected to it were elegant, curved lines that stretched out a few inches away from it. It looked like small water droplets were attached to the flower and lines, some of them falling freely.
“What do we think?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful,” you murmured and leaned in closer. “Your art style is so graceful.”
“You’d be the first to say that.” He let out a laugh and pulled the laptop away from you. “This is a little further away from what I usually do. But this suits your tastes, right?”
“Definitely.” You nodded and watched him gather a few things.
“And it’s going to sit right by your hip?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll go ahead and print out a stencil for you. How big do you want it to be?” He put his hands up and measured in the air. “About this big?”
“That looks good,” you answered.
“I’ll get that sorted for you then, love.”
Hongjoong left you alone in his studio, and your muscles finally relaxed. When Seonghwa recommended him, he said nothing about how good-looking and charming he was. Now you wish that you had tried a little harder to get one of your friends to go with you. Being all alone with him only made you more nervous. When Hongjoong came back, he walked over to his desk and picked up his glasses. The thin black frames sat on the tip of his nose as he studied the stencil in his hands. With a proud nod, he showed you the stencil to get your approval.
“Good size?” he asked as he walked up to you.
“It’s good.” You nodded, your fingers playing with the hem of your sweater. 
He looked at you closely, inspecting your nervous fidgeting and the way your eyes flickered around the room. Sitting back on the stool, Hongjoong got right up next to you. The intoxicating scent made you dizzy again, and you put your hand beside you to stabilize yourself.
“Are you nervous?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just a little,” you admitted with an awkward chuckle.
“That’s okay.” He motioned for you to lay down on the chair and you did as he said. “I’ll put the stencil on you, then you can take a look at it and tell me what you think. Is it okay if I pull up your sweater?”
You nodded and helped him move away your clothes. When the sweater was out of the way, you moved your hands to your pants. They already sat low on your hips, but you loosened the strings and pulled them down enough to expose the entirety of your hip bone. Hongjoong was talking as he put on the stencil, walking you through the steps as he was doing it. His soft voice calmed your nerves and seeing as you didn’t have to look directly at him, your heart started calming down as well. When he peels away the stencil, revealing blue lines on your skin, you look down at his hands.
“There you go, love.” He pushed up his glasses and looked up at you with a smile. “There’s a mirror over there, why don’t you go look at it and tell me if you like the placement.”
You hummed and carefully got off the chair. While you walked over to the mirror, Hongjoong prepared his station. The blue ink looked good against your skin, mostly because of the design. This is why you have been wanting to get a tattoo for so long. You smiled to yourself, looking past the nerves and bubbly feeling in your stomach that you got from looking at Hongjoong.
“It’s perfect,” you chimed.
You walked back over to the leather chair, which was now covered in a protective sheet. A bright smile was painted on your lips as you sat down in front of him again. Something sparkled in Hongjoong’s eyes just then, and you couldn't figure out what it was but you knew that you wanted to see it again. 
“So… uhm…” He scratched the back of his neck and pretended to look for something. “Is the placement and size all good? You’re allowed to change anything, you know? I won’t be upset.”
His reassurance only made you more comfortable. The nerves that had made you want to puke just a few minutes ago, were now suddenly gone. Hongjoong looked back at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, still looking for an answer from you.
“Oh, yes. It’s good. I like it,” you said. “Thank you.”
“It’s no big deal.” He got closer to you, the wheels on his stool easily rolling over the ground. “You can lay back down and I’ll start as soon as you’re comfortable.”
He had black rubber gloves on now, a stark contrast to the delicate silver rings that lay on his desk. The rings, intricate in design, caught the light and glinted, a reminder of the careful preparation Hongjoong had undertaken for your session. His cart was meticulously organized, filled with the colors you had requested. Each ink bottle stood ready, a spectrum of possibilities waiting to be brought to life on your skin.
The tattoo gun in his hand looked like the tip of a small drill, its precision and purpose unmistakable. A medical-blue plastic wrap covered the cord attached to it, ensuring everything remained sterile. Hongjoong began to explain the process, his voice calm and reassuring, a professional easing the nerves of a first-time client. He gently pushed away your clothes, ensuring they weren’t in the way, his movements careful and considerate. The touch of his gloved hands was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you felt spreading from your core.
You couldn’t help but focus on the way he was inspecting the skin where your stencil was placed. His eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed the area, ensuring everything was perfect before beginning. Your breath caught in your throat, the moment feeling surreal and significant. His red hair, vibrant and striking, hung slightly over his eyes despite his efforts to push it back. The black roots of his natural hair had started growing out, a subtle detail that you could only notice from this close proximity.
He looked up at you then, and your eyes met. Behind his glasses, his gaze was intense and focused, yet there was a softness there that put you at ease. His eyes, framed by the sharp lines of his glasses, seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a silent communication that everything was going to be alright.
“Does that sound good, love?” he asked.
“Sorry?” You had forgotten to listen to what he was saying.
“I’m going to give you a warning before I put the needle on your skin,” he repeated. “Does that sound good?”
“Yeah, it does…”
You leaned your head back against the chair and shut your eyes tightly. Hongjoong warned you that he was going to start, and you clutched the bunched-up fabric of your sweater tighter. It wasn’t comfortable, of course, but it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. 
Hongjoong worked fast, and when he was halfway done he asked if you needed to take a break. You agreed as you were starting to feel a little lightheaded.
“Could you hand me my bag?” you asked shyly.
Your bag was hanging by the door, and Hongjoong quickly walked over to it and picked it up for you. While you pulled out your water bottle and an energy bar, Hongjoong massaged his wrist. He looked over at you with the same playful smile he had worn when you first walked in. 
“Do you have friends with tattoos or something?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“No, it’s just… you seem to know what to do despite this being your first tattoo.” He sat back on his stool, right by your side. “You know Seonghwa, right?”
“He’s the one who recommended that I should go to you.” You nodded. “To be honest, I didn’t even know he had tattoos.”
“Well, I think he only recommended me because we’re friends,” he said and your eyes widened. “He has a tattoo on his back, but I didn’t do that one for him.”
“Seonghwa never told me you were friends…” you muttered, wondering why he had refused to come with you if he was friends with the tattoo artist. You put away your things and dropped your bag by the side of the chair. Hongjoong took the hint and got ready to get back to work.
“I’m sure he just didn’t think of telling you,” he muttered. “He texted me last night to tell me you were nervous about the appointment.”
His words hit you like a bag of bricks. Not only was Seonghwa friends with this guy, but he was also texting him about you. Maybe that was why Hongjoong had been so friendly from the beginning. You had the feeling that he had a constant natural charm, but his comforting words and kind smiles had made you think that maybe you were receiving special treatment for reasons other than friend-nepotism.
“Is it okay if I start again?” Hongjoong’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” you mumbled and closed your eyes as he put the needle into your skin again.
At the end of your session, the skin around your hip felt raw and sensitive, a testament to the meticulous work that had just been done. Hongjoong gently wiped off your skin with a wet paper towel, the coolness providing a brief respite from the heat and discomfort. His touch was careful, almost tender, as he ensured that no excess ink or blood marred the final reveal of your new tattoo.
"Go take a look in the mirror," he said, his voice soft and encouraging. You nodded, taking a deep breath before gingerly sliding off the chair. Your legs felt slightly shaky, both from the adrenaline rush and the prolonged stillness of the session. As you steadied yourself, you could feel Hongjoong's reassuring presence nearby, ready to assist if you needed it.
With cautious steps, you made your way over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. The anticipation built with each step, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. When you finally stood in front of the mirror, you took a moment to compose yourself before lifting your shirt slightly to reveal your hip.
The fresh lines of the tattoo contrasted beautifully against your skin. Despite the slight irritation that surrounded the new ink, the design was incredibly striking. The intricate details and vibrant colors were even more stunning than you had imagined.
“This is gorgeous.” You gasped and turned back around to Hongjoong.
With your sweater still bunched up you showed him the piece with a small smile, as if he hadn’t been looking at it for the past few hours. Still, he approached you and crouched down a little to inspect it. He wore a small, giddy smile; you couldn’t help but think that for someone who looked like he could kill you with a single glare, his mannerisms were awfully cute. After giving you a proud nod, he backed away from you.
“Some of my best work,” he commented. “Do you mind if I take a picture of it and put it on my Instagram?”
“Not at all, go ahead.”
Hongjoong went to look for his phone and you stayed in the same position, with your sweater still bunched up and your pants almost falling off due to the strings being untied. It was an awkward position, but you didn’t know if you were allowed to move yet. Hongjoong soon came back with his phone in hand and crouched down right in front of you to take a picture of your hip and waist.
“Thank you.” He stood back up and inspected the photo as you put your clothes on properly. “Oh, hold on– before you put everything back on, I have to wrap it up for you.”
You froze as you were about to pull on the string of your pants, and Hongjoong let out a panicked laugh as he went over to the cart with materials. He took out a roll of some white plastic with green stripes in a criss-cross pattern and a big blue line in the middle of it. When he came back to you, he measured it to the size of the tattoo before he cut it off. 
“This is Second Skin,” he said and parted it open in the middle of the blue line. “It’ll feel a bit weird, but you’ll get used to it pretty quickly.”
He pulled off a top layer and pressed the now sticky side to your stomach. His hands were warm now that he didn’t have the rubber gloves on. A shiver sent down your spine as he smoothed out the plastic against your skin. After he expertly pulled away another plastic layer, the Second Skin lived up to its name - you barely felt it. You were much too distracted by the loss of Hongjoong’s hands against your abdomen.
“I’ll give you some more of this stuff so that you can reapply it yourself after twenty-four hours. Then you’re going to want to leave this on for three to five days, and then peel it off under running water. It’s not difficult at all, just take one of the top corners and slowly take it off,” he explained as he examined his application. “You might get some ink bubbles in there, that’s fine you can just leave it- and if your skin gets red where the plastic is applied, that’s normal too. If you’re unsure, you can always just send me an email.”
You hummed and turned back to the mirror, inspecting the now plastic-covered tattoo. You caught Hongjoong’s eyes on you in the mirror, but he wasn’t looking at the tattoo. He was just looking at you - all of you. However, his eyes quickly diverted as he saw that you had caught him in the act.
“Thank you,” you said as you went back to tying the strings to your pants. “I really love it.”
“I’m glad,” he answered. “Listen, I’ve got to go out to the reception- but take as long as you need to get yourself ready. We’ll handle the payment as soon as you’re done, and I’ll get you some more Second Skin and a lotion you can use at home. On the house.”
“Oh, no- I’ll pay for it, I don’t mind,” you argued.
“You’re Seonghwa’s friend, he’d get mad at me if I didn’t.” He walked towards the door to give you some privacy. “Besides, it’s your first tattoo- I have to give you some incentive to come back.”
As if you didn’t have enough reason to come back already…
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
The next few days, all you could think about was your cute tattoo artist. Hongjoong's comforting atmosphere, his pretty smile, and his charming words were plaguing both your waking and sleeping hours. His presence lingered in your thoughts, like a sweet yet torturous melody you couldn’t escape. During the day, you found yourself daydreaming about his soft eyes and the way he had meticulously worked on your tattoo. At night, your dreams were filled with his voice, his touch, and the mesmerizing red of his hair. It was as if he had left an indelible mark not just on your skin, but on your mind and heart as well.
Conversations with your friends became dominated by your incessant musings about him. "I can't believe I didn’t ask for his number," you would lament, your frustration palpable. Your friends, patient at first, were growing tired of your constant complaints. Their sympathetic nods were starting to turn into exasperated eye-rolls. "Just ask Seonghwa for his number," they would suggest, not realizing that this simple solution was a source of internal conflict for you.
Seonghwa was the one person you hadn’t confided in about your infatuation. Now that you knew he was friends with the red-haired man, you didn’t dare tell him a thing. The thought of revealing your feelings to Seonghwa filled you with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. When he asked how your tattoo appointment went, you kept your response strictly about the tattooing process, carefully avoiding any mention of the charming artist who had captured your heart.
A week had passed since your tattoo appointment, and you found yourself in a bar with your friends, trying to shake off the haze of infatuation that seemed to follow you everywhere. The Second Skin had been removed, revealing your tattoo in all its healed glory. Despite the itchy phase that had begun, you did your absolute best not to scratch or touch it, knowing how crucial this period was for the healing process. Each prickling sensation on your hip served as a reminder of Hongjoong, making it even harder to move on.
You nursed your drink in your hands, staring into the glass with sad, distracted eyes. The ambient chatter and laughter of the bar did little to lift your spirits. As your friends' conversation ebbed, they noticed your slumped shoulders and the faraway look in your eyes.
“Please tell me you’re not thinking about him again.” One of your friends groaned.
“They can’t help that they have a crush!” Another one defended you.
You looked up at all of them. They quieted down as you opened your mouth to say something. However, you quickly shut your mouth again and went to chug your drink instead. The glass hit the table as you finished it, and you hissed at the feeling in your throat.
"Hey, you okay?" one of them asked, their voice tinged with concern.
You looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, just... thinking."
"About him again?" another friend teased gently, though their eyes were sympathetic.
You sighed deeply, swirling the liquid in your glass. "I just can't get him out of my head. It's like he's everywhere I turn."
"Maybe it's a sign," one friend suggested. "Maybe you should just go back to the shop and see him again. You know, for a touch-up or something."
The idea sent a jolt of both excitement and fear through you. The thought of seeing Hongjoong again was intoxicating, but so was the fear of making a fool of yourself. "I don't know," you murmured. "I don’t want to come off as desperate."
"Desperate? No way. You’re just interested. There's nothing wrong with that," another friend chimed in. "Besides, from what you've told us, he seemed pretty interested in you too."
“Just go back to the shop and ask him out. If you won’t ask Seonghwa for help, you have to help yourself.”
Their words gave you a flicker of hope, though your insecurities quickly tried to snuff it out. "Maybe," you conceded, taking a sip of your drink.
As the night went on, you continued to ponder their advice, your mind a whirl of possibilities and anxieties. The itch of your healing tattoo was a constant reminder of the artist who had given it to you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if fate was nudging you to take a chance.
A couple of days later, you were standing outside of INK’D once again. You had even dressed up for the occasion, which now felt a little pathetic. Nevertheless, you walked up to the door and pulled it open. It looked exactly as it had the last time you were there, which shouldn’t be a surprise since it hadn’t been that long. Glancing around the shop, you couldn’t find Hongjoong anywhere. Until you heard his laugh, you were starting to think that he wasn’t even there. 
Your eyes immediately followed the sound of his gentle laugh. Behind the reception, stood Hongjoong as he talked with a customer. The shop hadn’t changed, but Hongjoong certainly had. His hair was now shorter and bleach blond, he had a new eyebrow piercing that matched his other silver jewelry, and you could swear that he had gotten even more tattoos - but maybe that was just because he wore a more revealing shirt. The customer on the other side of the desk was a gorgeous woman, who looked to be just a few years older than you. Her arms were also covered in tattoos, and her hair was dyed a fiery red almost like Hongjoong had before. The two of them were leaning against the counter, talking about something that was apparently very interesting - seeing as Hongjoong’s eyes were completely transfixed on her.
You felt stupid in your cute crop top and midi-skirt, feeling the need to hide the single tattoo that you had purposefully left exposed earlier - being surrounded by people who had tattoos all over their skin somehow made you feel self-conscious of only having one, almost to the point that it would’ve felt better to have none at all. The customer paid and left. You were about to follow her out, but it was too late. Hongjoong had spotted you.
“Y/N, you’re back!” he said as you reluctantly approached the counter. “Is everything okay? Is the tattoo healing as it should?”
He looked a little worried, and it hit you that coming in unannounced like this may cause suspicion. This was the last thing you wanted. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and an anxious clump building up in the back of your throat.
“Oh, the tattoo's fine, really, it's just a little itchy right now—well, more than a little, actually—but I know that's part of the process and I'm trying my best not to scratch it, even though it's really tempting. You said it would be like this while it heals, right? So I'm not too worried, but I can't help feeling a bit anxious about it. I'm just reminding myself it's normal, and honestly, I can't wait to see how it looks once it's fully healed," you rambled but stopped as you saw Hongjoong smiling at you.
His eyes were warm and gentle, but his smile was playful. It was a cruel combination of features to put on such a kind man. Why did everything about him have to leave you speechless? Your long pause caused Hongjoong to speak up.
“Did you come in to book another appointment then, or what’s up?”
He leaned against the counter again, looking up at you with sparkling eyes. The new hair suited him, although it looked like it had gotten a little damaged. Still, he looked just as pretty as last time, and you felt your words get caught up in your throat. You couldn’t ask him out, not now or ever.
“I wanted to…” You looked over at a sign about drop-in piercings that stood on the counter, standing there like your savior. “...get a piercing.”
The words came out of you before you could process them. You had been thinking of getting another piercing soon, but you had no plans on doing it today. However, it was the only way for you to get out of the awkward position you were about to put yourself in.
“Ah, really?” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but you almost thought he looked disappointed for a second. “Well, our piercer is out for lunch at the moment, so you’d have to wait for a while- that is if you don’t mind that I do it. I’ve done piercings before, but it’s been a while.”
“I don’t mind.” You heard yourself saying. To be fair, you were only there to see him - so having him pierce you maybe wouldn’t be so bad.
So there you were. Back in Hongjoong’s room, sitting on his leather tattoo chair. This time it was lower to the ground, allowing him to get closer to your head. You had decided on another ear piercing, adding to the ones that were already there. Hongjoong had stepped out to get his coworker’s equipment, and you were left alone with your thoughts. The prickly feeling under your skin wouldn’t go away, no matter how many deep breaths you took. You had one thing to do today, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to do it. Technically, you didn’t even have the money for a piercing - the tattoo was supposed to be the thing you treated yourself with after working so much lately, so you had only budgeted for that. You were lucky that the piercings weren’t as expensive.
“Alright, this should be all that I need.” Hongjoong snatched you out of your thoughts as he slipped back into the room. 
He organized his station on the rolling table beside your chair. You watched his ringed fingers, admiring his pretty painted nails - wondering if he made the cute designs on them himself. His hands moved quickly and steadily, his eyes analyzing the different items he had brought with him. Despite saying that he hadn’t done this in a while, it certainly looked like he had. Everything about him was authentic, in a way that was both comforting and intimidating.
“Nervous?” he asked. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m just thinking,” you admitted, and he turned to you with a piqued interest. 
“Want to share what’s in that pretty little head of yours, then?” The words came out of him so naturally that it almost felt wrong that your body had such a strong reaction to them. 
“Oh, it’s nothing. Work mostly,” you lied and looked down at your dangling feet as you desperately tried to find another subject to talk about. “Does this piercing hurt a lot?”
“It’ll sting,” he admits and looks up at you with that warm smile of his. “But I’ll be gentle, love.”
If Hongjoong wasn’t staring right at you, you’d clutch your chest and lean back against the chair at his words. Instead, you’re gripping the edge of the seat, and hoping that it’s not too obvious that he’s got such an effect on you. An “okay,” that sounded more like a peep than a word, came bubbling up your throat, and Hongjoong stifled a laugh at, what you could only assume was, your innate ability to make a fool out of yourself.
“I’m going to puncture the skin with this.” Hongjoong held up a needle to you. “And then I’ll push in this piercing.” He showed you a simple stud that matched the rest of the metals you were wearing. You nodded carefully, giving him a worried glance. It has been a while since your last piercing and even though you knew you had nothing to be scared of, you couldn’t help but be irrational. Hongjoong notices your nervous state and puts his hand on your knee. His palm is warm, burning through the material of your midi skirt.
“You’ve got this.” That was all he said before he stood up beside you.
His head was right by yours as he angled the needle against the ink dot he had placed on your skin earlier. You could feel his breath against your skin, his warmth radiating from his chest. This man had to secretly be a radiator with the amount of heat he was giving off. You closed your eyes as the tip of the needle made contact with your ear.
“Ready?” Hongjoong asked.
“Yeah,” you murmured back.
The needle prodded through your skin, and it stung just as he said it would. A quiet gasp flew out of you as he pierced through your ear. Hongjoong left the needle and grabbed the small stud again.
“You’re doing so good,” he mumbled as he fidgeted with the earring. “I’m almost done, love.”
You took a deep breath and Hongjoong got back to work. Before you knew it, you had a new piercing.
Your right ear was burning ever so slightly as you were making your purchase at the front desk. You found yourself frequently trying to touch your ear, and then quickly putting your hand down again at the sight of Hongjoong’s warning glare. His small talk had quieted down as you pushed in your code to complete the transaction. The lack of words exchanged only made the air feel more stuffy. When the receipt rolls out of the machine, Hongjoong quickly grabs it and hands it to you. Your hand brushes against his as you take it, and sparks are sent flying through your bloodstream. This was your last chance to ask him out…
“I can’t wait to see you again,” he said with a wink, and your words got stuck in your throat.
“Thanks!” you squeak out before turning on your heel and all but bolting out of the tattoo shop.
That night, you met up with your friends at your usual bar, sporting new earrings but still no love confession to speak of. Your friends were almost more annoyed with you than you were with yourself for the lack of action. As soon as you told them the story, they all groaned in unison, a chorus of exasperation that filled the dimly lit space.
"You've got to be kidding me," one of them said, shaking their head. "What happened this time?"
“I said ‘Thanks!’ when I left, like an idiot.” You groaned and put your head in your hands.
“What? How is that bad?”
You tried to explain, telling them how Hongjoong was just out of your league and how you didn't have the guts to ask him out. They weren't having it, though. They kept trying to hype you up, their voices a mix of encouragement and frustration. "Come on, you can't give up now!" one urged, while another complained about your tendency to chicken out.
Drinks were downed in rapid succession, the alcohol fueling your emotions. Tiny shouts of anger and regret burst from your lips every so often, punctuating the lively conversation. Each time you vented, your friends would nod sympathetically or roll their eyes, depending on how many times they'd heard the same lament.
Just as you were about to resign yourself to a night of self-pity, you saw Seonghwa walking towards your table. Your body reacted on its own, your hand shooting up to point at him. In your slightly inebriated state, your finger ended up pointing slightly past him. One of your friends quickly helped you correct your aim, turning your arm toward the startled man.
"You know Hongjoong!" you blurted out as if this was news to him.
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What happened to 'hello'? 'How was your day?' 'Was work okay?' You have to relax," he said, his tone gentle as he sat down on the chair in front of yours. "I heard that you didn’t ask him out."
You felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. "Do you know when his next shift is?" you asked, ignoring his attempt to make small talk.
Seonghwa sighed, a mix of amusement and mild frustration. "In two days, I think... why?"
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I'm going back," you declared, mostly to yourself but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I won’t chicken out this time!"
Your friends erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable. "That's the spirit!" one of them exclaimed, raising their glass in a toast. "To not chicken out!"
Seonghwa smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Just be yourself," he advised, his voice kind. "Hongjoong's a good guy."
You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The night continued with more drinks and lively conversation, but this time, there was a spark of hope in your heart. As the evening wound down, you found yourself thinking about what you would say to Hongjoong, rehearsing possible scenarios in your mind.
When you finally left the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief. Your friends hugged you goodbye, their encouragement ringing in your ears. "You've got this," they assured you, their support unwavering.
You regret your words as you stand in front of the tattoo shop, two days later. Nevertheless, you’re determined to do it. Partially because it was about damn time, but also because Seonghwa had relentlessly teased you about not being able to do it, and now you can’t face him ever again if you fail. You haven’t had a date in at least a year, and this was the first guy in real life you’d found remotely attractive since then. He was attractive, kind, and just your type. It was now or never—you just had to go for it. With what you hoped were confident steps, you walked up to the door and swung it open... only to find the shop empty. The sound of someone rustling around in the back rooms caught your attention.
“Hello?” you called out, walking up to the receptionist's desk.
“Just a second!” It was Hongjoong’s voice, coming from further inside the shop.
Sure enough, Hongjoong walked out of his tattoo room thirty seconds later. His hair was still a blond mess, but now he was wearing a perfectly fitted, black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. If you hadn’t been able to restrain yourself, your jaw would be on the floor. He wore a customer service smile, which faltered at the sight of you, turning into a genuine grin. He walked up to the reception with a spring in his step.
“Getting multiple things done in a week, huh?” he said, a playful look in his eyes. “Are you a masochist or something?”
The previous confidence you felt transformed into a ball of shame in your chest. You couldn’t look him in the eyes as your face grew hotter and hotter. Hongjoong noticed your freak-out and immediately went into panic mode himself.
“Oh shit—I'm sorry, I don’t know why I said that. That was too far—”
“It’s okay—”
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”
“I’m not offended—”
“Please don’t take this as a bad reflection of the shop, I don’t know why—”
“I came here to ask you out.”
The words flew out of you without warning, catching both you and Hongjoong off guard. They lingered in the air as the tension built up until it was thick enough to cut with a knife. The longer it took him to answer, the more anxious you were getting. With a soft, pitiful chuckle, you looked down at your shoes.
“Never mind,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry—it was stupid—”
“No, Y/N—”
“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t feel pressured to say anything, please.” You looked back up at him and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for everything, I’ll be… I’ll leave.”
Without waiting another second to hear his response, you turned around and walked out of the shop, shame weighing down your shoulders.
For the next few days, you stayed in bed for most of the day, only going out to go to work or get groceries. You’d do anything to avoid your friends, and you were doing everything in your power to never see Hongjoong again. Have you planned on going to him for another tattoo sometime in the future? Yes, but that was out of the question now. The scene kept replaying in your head—his shocked expression and how poorly you had handled it. You couldn’t remember the last time you had made that big of a fool of yourself.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you kept replaying every detail of that embarrassing encounter. You wondered what possessed you to blurt out your feelings like that, why you hadn’t just played it cool or at least waited for a more appropriate moment. Each time you thought about it, a fresh wave of humiliation washed over you. Your friends' encouraging words now felt like cruel jokes. Why would he ever go out with you? It was stupid to even let your friends suggest that you should go for it.
Every time your phone buzzed with a message from Seonghwa or anyone else, you felt a pang of anxiety, worried it was another reminder of your failed confession. You avoided social media, not wanting to see anything that might remind you of Hong or the tattoo shop. Even the sight of your tattoo in the mirror was enough to send you spiraling back into regret.
Days blended into each other, each one marked by a series of small, mundane tasks that you performed on autopilot. The only solace you found was in the brief moments of distraction that work could provide. Yet, even in those moments, Hongjoong’s image—his smile, his kindness, and that playful glint in his eye—kept creeping back into your mind.
Why did it have to be so difficult? You’d always been so cautious, so careful with your heart, and now this one act of bravery—or foolishness—had left you feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever before. The fear of facing rejection again loomed large, and you couldn’t bear the thought of putting yourself through that kind of pain once more.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
On the seventh day, there was a knock at your apartment door. Thinking that it was the food you had ordered, you begrudgingly made your way to your door. To avoid having a stranger see the mess of a state you were in, you only opened it far enough for someone to pass the bag of food to you. A perfectly manicured hand wrapped around the side of your door and pulled it all the way open.
“Seonghwa!” Your eyes widened at the man in front of you.
“It’s been four days and you’ve declined all of our meetups,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
Your bottom lip quivered. It wasn’t as if you had gone through heartbreak, or had broken up with a long-term partner, but Seonghwa always managed to get you to crack as soon as you were remotely upset. You threw your arms around him and sobbed against his chest.
“I fucked up, and he totally hates me now!” you wailed in between sobs.
Seonghwa let out a soft sigh and gently patted your back as he invited himself inside. While it was difficult to move around while still holding him, you refused to let go. Your friend stayed with you by your front door, patting your back and mumbling “there, there” every few seconds. After some time of crying, your sobs slowly dying down, there was another knock at the door.
“Food delivery!”
“Coming!” Seonghwa answered. “Go inside, okay? I’ll get that for you, and then we can sit down and talk.”
Seonghwa made himself a cup of tea while you ate your dinner. He hadn’t said anything since the delivery guy had left, and you were trying your best to ignore the tension growing from it. You could practically hear him thinking from where you sat on your couch. Seonghwa was simply watching you from the kitchen counter, where he was leaning and sipping his tea, and waiting for you to make the first move.
“I may have overreacted,” you finally said after finishing your plate. “But I don’t think I’ll ever see him again- just out of embarrassment, really.”
“So you asked him out and he said no?” Seonghwa approached the couch and sat down next to you.
“Well, not really…” You looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to tell him we talked, right? I know you’re friends, he told me.”
“I know he told you.” He sighed and put down his cup on your coffee table. “And no, I won’t tell him anything. I’m your friend too, you know?”
“How can I be so sure when you didn’t even tell me that you have a tattoo?” you argued playfully. “How have you hidden a back tattoo from everyone?”
“Don’t change the subject,” he warned. “What happened? Did he say no?”
“Hasn’t he told you already?”
“I haven’t seen him since last week.”
“Oh…” You fidgeted with your fingers and took a deep breath before continuing. “I walked in there, got nervous, and blurted it out like an idiot. He looked so shocked that I just walked out…”
“You didn’t even let him answer?” Seonghwa exclaimed.
You put your head in your hands with a big groan. Falling on your side, you put your head on your friend’s lap - silently asking him to pat your back again. Seonghwa put a hand on your shoulder, while the other played with your hair. You wanted so desperately to know his secrets to have his shit together, but you knew that he’d never tell you — instead, he’d just tell you that you’ll “figure it out.” Whatever that means.
“I just wanted to spare him from having to let me down,” you explained. “It was written all over his face.”
“Y/N, you wouldn’t know what that guy was thinking even if it actually was written on his face,” Seonghwa answered with another sigh. “I can talk to him for you if you want to.”
“You’re not my mom,” you said, “And he’s not my middle school bully.”
“No, you’re right, I’m your mutual friend who could settle this miscommunication…”
You sat back up, facing away from Seonghwa. Rationally, you knew that he was right and that you probably should try to smooth things over. However, you didn’t want to make it worse by not being able to do it yourself. 
“I’m fine, I promise,” you muttered.
“Okay…” He stood up and walked over to your door. “Then you’re coming out with me tomorrow. At our usual place, around eight, okay? Dress up cute, you deserve to feel luxurious.”
“Fine.”
At eight PM the next day, you’re standing outside the bar where you’d promise Seonghwa you’d meet him. To make yourself feel better, you dressed up for the occasion - wearing the items in your closet that you never got a chance to wear otherwise. The cold crept in as the evening turned darker, and you were starting to regret your pretty but short dress. Lucky for you, you saw your friend walking up the street with long steps - it doesn’t take long for him to get to you.
“Sorry, I’m late- work, you know?” He immediately grabbed your arm and led you through the doors to the bar. “You look great.”
“Thank you?” You’re not sure he heard you as he pulled you through the loud crowd to your usual table in the corner, where someone was already sitting.
Your mouth fell open as you saw who was sitting in your usual seat. Hongjoong was looking right at you, just as shocked as he was the last time you saw him. His hair was still blond, mostly hidden under a beat-up, black cap that looked like he had decorated it himself—no manufactured cap could look so creative and authentically him. He stood up to greet Seonghwa, but his eyes never left yours. You couldn't tell if he was checking you out or questioning his decision to come here. You couldn't help but check him out; he was dressed more casually than you but still somehow outdressed you. The sleeves of his black hoodie were pushed up, revealing tattoos that curled up his forearms, and his jeans were artfully distressed. Seonghwa all but forced you to sit down on the couch seat next to Hongjoong.
"I'll get us drinks!" Seonghwa shouted as he walked back into the crowd.
You hadn't had time to process what was happening, but as Seonghwa left, you were filled with embarrassment and pure rage—the latter almost overpowering the former. Almost.
"Hi," Hongjoong said, his voice a familiar blend of calm and curiosity.
He was sitting close enough to talk normally, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, just like when he had given you that piercing—a constant reminder of your embarrassment. Only a truly cruel creature would curse you with an uncomfortable new hole in your ear that you had to ever so carefully take care of, which, on top of everything, made you think about Hongjoong. However, considering that you had just been freezing, you welcomed his warmth, to the point where you had to keep yourself from leaning closer to him. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him was both comforting and disarming.
"Hi," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
Before either of you could speak any further, Seonghwa came back with two bottles of soju and two small glasses. He put them down in front of you, giving you both a look that could only be described as a parent telling their kids to make up after a fight.
"Talk." He pushed the bottles toward the two of you and took a few steps away from the table. "I'm not going to be your messenger."
"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, a hint of panic in your voice.
"Home! To my cat!" He smiled and waved before disappearing into the crowd.
Hongjoong leaned back in his seat with a scoff, making you look over at him. His head was leaning back against the wall, and his eyes were shut tight as if trying to find some inner peace. Suddenly, he sat back up and picked up one of the bottles. As he opened a bottle of soju, he motioned for you to pick up one of the glasses. You did as he asked, and he poured you a shot, the liquid shimmering in the dim light of the room.
“Might as well, right?” he said.
“Right…” You nodded and put the glass to your lips.
“You look pretty.” His words made you choke on the liquid as it came down your throat.
Hongjoong apologized profusely as he patted your back while you coughed. You looked up at him with teary eyes, and the worried look in his eye changed to his usual playful look. The two of you broke out in laughter, the tension finally releasing you from its grasp.
“Off to a good start,” you said and picked up the bottle to offer to pour him a shot.
He accepted the drink, and the two of you took a shot together. Hongjoong’s knee was grazing against yours and, despite the burning sensation, you refused to remove it. As he put down his empty glass, he turned to you.
“I’m sorry about before,” he said, “I was going to say something- you just surprised me.”
“Please, it’s not your fault… I shouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.” You sighed as you poured yourself another drink. “I should know better than to assume your good customer service was flirting.”
“But I was flirting.”
You whipped your head to face him again. He was so casual about it, taking another drink before meeting your gaze. Hongjoong smiled as if he hadn’t just said what he had said, and you felt an overwhelming urge to disappear for at least a few months. The nonchalance in his expression, combined with the casual lift of his glass, made you feel like the ground had shifted beneath you.
“You were flirting?” you asked and looked down at your hands. “So I was overreacting this entire time?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly handle it great,” he countered. “I think you had every right to be upset by my reaction- even if it would’ve been nice if you had stayed to hear my answer first.”
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down to try to meet your lowered gaze. “We’re here now, right?”
You looked up at him, and he gave you a lopsided grin that you couldn’t help but return. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were just feeling butterflies in your stomach, nevertheless, your skin was tingling all over.
“Even if it was orchestrated by our friend,” you added.
“Yeah… can’t say that I hate him for it, though.” He turned to pour himself another drink, but you could see his shy smile.
“So?” you said, suddenly more confident as you leaned in a little closer to him.
“What?” He looked back at you, his nose inches away from yours.
“Would you go out on a date with me?”
“Sure. Wanna go now?”
That’s how you end up walking beside Hongjoong to a small restaurant that he had looked up just a few minutes earlier. It was close to the bar, but you were already freezing after just a few minutes. You glanced at the jacket hanging over Hongjoong’s arm - it felt a little cliché of him to have a leather jacket, but you suppose it’s part of his charm - and pray that he can sense that you’re freezing.
“Aren’t you cold?” you asked.
“Not really,” he replied. “Are you?”
“A little,” you mumbled.
He picked up his jacket from his arm, and got your hopes up, only to put it down on the other arm - the one furthest away from you. Your brows furrowed slightly but before your brain could start spinning ideas, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He had given you a taste of his warmth before, but now it overflowed in you. You kept your eyes on your feet as you kept walking, and Hongjoong bent down to try to find your gaze.
“Warm?” he asked.
“Why’d you…” You couldn’t find any words, too engrossed in his embrace.
“What? Did you want my jacket?” He finally got you to look at him, and flashed you a teasing grin. “Cute.”
He must have been a little tipsy — as evident by the pink glow on his cheeks — because, while he had been confident before, you had never seen him so comfortable being a flirt like he was right now. Hongjoong let go of you and took his jacket to wrap around your shoulders. The jacket was heavy and his scent lingered on it, it was a constant reminder of what his hold would feel like. A while ago, you would’ve never believed that you’d be in this position - now that you were, it was almost overwhelming.
“The restaurant’s over there!” Hongjoong grabbed your hand and led the way, completely unaware of the effect he had on you. “Let’s go!”
“Favorite color?”
“Red and yellow.”
“Really? Not black?”
“I like colors, too.”
You hummed and picked up another fry. The restaurant Hongjoong had found was a cute 50s-themed diner - the kind with big milkshakes and long, plastic menus. It was late, and this had been the only thing open that you didn’t need a reservation for. The milkshake you shared was almost gone, and the fries were half-eaten and getting cold. Both of you stuck out in your colorful booth - you for being so dressed up, and Hongjoong for being dressed in all black. It wasn’t the kind of date you’d brag to your friends about, but you were still having a good time. 
“What is your…” Hongjoong leaned back and paused to think of his next question. “... favorite ice cream flavor?”
The two of you had been going back and forth, asking each other banal questions to get to know each other better - getting through the questions quickly “to make up for lost time,” as Hongjoong had put it.
“Hm… that’s hard,” you muttered. “I do like mint-choco–”
“No…” Hongjoong groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in disappointment. “You’re seriously into chocolate and toothpaste?”
“It doesn’t taste like toothpaste!” You giggled. “You can’t judge me, you like minions.”
“They’re cute!”
“They’re horrible!” you countered. 
“Maybe you just have bad taste.” Hongjoong ate another fry before meeting your eyes again, slightly more serious. “Except for tattoos, I think your design was really sick.”
You leaned against the table, the plastic sticking to your warm skin - just a few seconds ago you had been freezing, but now you could practically be the heat source for your entire apartment complex. 
“It’s all you,” you said earnestly. “You really brought it to life.”
He leaned against the table with his forearms as well, his hand getting closer and closer to yours but his eyes never looked away from your face.
“If you keep complimenting me like that, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to seduce me.” His middle finger reached yours, and you swore you could feel sparks coming from where they met.
Maybe it’s the lighting, but you swear that his brown eyes go on forever. The lighting can’t make everything else disappear, though - that was just him. Hongjoong’s hand inched closer until it covered the back of your hand. The intricate tattoos on his hand were faded, but it made it seem more genuine. This feeling was dangerous, you knew that - but can’t you allow yourself one night of indulgence? As you were about to reply, the waitress came up to your table.
“Is everything alright over here?” she asked with a classic customer service tone, but her tapping foot told a different story from her bright smile.
“Yeah, thank you.” You sat back in your seat, pulling your hand with you and onto your lap - you could no longer look Hongjoong in the eye, not now when the spell was interrupted.
“Alright, just checking in,” the waitress continued. “Just to let you know, we close in about fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we were about to leave now anyway,” Hongjoong answered and stood up from his seat and put enough cash on the table to cover the cost of the food and a tip. “Can I walk you home, Y/N?”
You looked up at him as he held his hand out to you. With little to no hesitation, you grabbed the leather jacket by your side and took his hand. The two of you said goodbye to the waitress and thanked her, before quickly leaving the establishment.
Hongjoong walked you home, the two of you talking all the way to your apartment. You asked him about his practice, and he asked you about your plans for the future once you had told him you didn’t want to continue being a barista. His jacket was wrapped around your shoulders again, but now his hand was in yours - keeping you more than warm. The streetlights were illuminating your path toward your apartment complex, and you could already see the building in the distance. A sudden urge to slow your steps down struck you then - a need to slow time to make his presence last. Maybe it was his warmth or the way he laughed at every silly joke you said, but you couldn’t help but want to spend more time with him. You’re so lost in your world, that you don’t even realize that Hongjoong has quieted down - or that he’s staring at you.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just tired,” you answered, almost too quickly.
“It’s late.” He nodded. “Where’s your place?”
“Just up ahead.” You pointed to your building and let your arm fall to your side again. “You don’t have to walk me all the way if you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” He shrugged. “I liked spending time with you tonight.”
While his eyes were fixated on the building not too far from you, you took the time to study his profile. Enamored with the sharp lines of his face — his nose, his jaw, his cheekbones — you found yourself wanting to look at him for just a little bit longer; as if you had wasted so much time by looking away out of shyness. Before you knew it, you arrived at the door to your apartment complex and Hongjoong stopped walking.
“I’ll wait for you to get inside,” he promised as he turned to you with a boyish smile.
You almost wanted to ask him to come up to your place, but decided it would be too forward for a first date. If he had been anyone else you might’ve invited him up, but Hongjoong was the type of person you wanted to savor. 
“Goodnight, then,” you said with a smile and started walking to the door.
“I’m glad that Seonghwa made me come out tonight,” he added quickly and you turned back to him. “Really glad.”
Within a few steps, you were right next to him again. Leaning towards him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek. He took your jaw in your hands, bringing you closer for a real kiss. It was short and chased, but you could feel the effort it took for him to break the kiss as the air around you became thick. 
“I’m glad, too,” you murmured. 
“Goodnight, then,” he mimicked you.
“Goodnight.” You gave him a last smile before turning around and walking into your apartment building.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
A few days passed before you saw Hongjoong again. During that time, you couldn't stop talking your friends' ears off about him—every conversation seemed to circle back to his smile, his style, and the way he made you feel. Your friends, exasperated yet amused, repeatedly urged you to ask him out on another date already. The only problem was that you still hadn’t gotten his number. Despite this, luck seemed to be on your side. 
The late shift had been brutal. You were exhausted, every muscle in your body ached, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed. The chaos of the day had left the place in disarray, and cleaning up had taken what little energy you had left. As you dragged your feet towards the exit, you heard your name being called out.
You turned, slightly puzzled, to see Hongjoong standing beside a sleek red motorbike. You blinked in surprise, not having expected him to be the type to ride a motorcycle. The sight was jarring at first, but then you realized it actually fit perfectly with his whole aesthetic—edgy, confident, and effortlessly cool. His face lit up with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hadn't seen him in a while, and the sight of him brought a rush of mixed emotions.
"Hey! Need a ride home?" he called out, holding up a spare helmet.
“How did you know my shift ended now?” you questioned with an incredulous smile.
“I asked Seonghwa,” he explained with a shrug. “Thought, since I hadn’t seen you in a while, I’d offer you a lift.”
“You did?” You felt your face grow warm as he walked over to you. “That’s very sweet of you…”
“So can I?” he asked.
You had no clue what he was talking about, as you were too distracted by everything about him. Now that he had come a little closer, you could smell the faint scent of his intoxicating perfume. An urge to wrap your arms around him hit you then, and you had to press your nails into your palms to stop yourself.
“Can you what?” You looked up at him with big eyes.
“Drive you home?” He let out a small laugh that had your heart beating a mile per minute.
You blinked, processing the offer. "Uh, sure," you replied, your voice wavering with nerves and excitement.
Hongjoong's grin widened. "Great! Hop on."
Hongjoong walked back to the bike, got you a helmet, and helped you put it on. With shaky hands, you took the helmet and fastened it on, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Climbing onto the bike behind him, you hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist. The engine roared to life, and you clung to him tightly as the bike sped off into the night.
The ride was a whirlwind of sensations. The cool evening air rushed past, the roar of the engine vibrated through you, and the warmth of Hongjoong's body against yours provided a strange comfort. Fear and exhilaration mingled as you held on, your heart pounding not just from the speed, but from the closeness to him.
When he finally pulled up in front of your place, you reluctantly let go and removed the helmet, your hair slightly tousled. Hongjoong turned to you with that infectious smile. He got off after you and walked you to the door of your apartment complex.
"Safe and sound," he said as you arrived at the door. "Hope the ride wasn’t too scary."
You shook your head, unable to suppress a grin. "No, it was... amazing. Thanks for the ride home, Hongjoong."
"Anytime," he replied, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. "Get some rest.”
It was a sure goodbye, but neither of you moved. You kept your eyes on him, and you couldn’t shake the building anticipation in your chest. A realization that you still didn’t have his number hit you—your eyes widened and you let out a soft gasp. Hongjoong raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, as he watched you rummage around your bag. Finally, you pulled out your phone.
“I don’t have your number!” you exclaimed.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Hongjoong chuckled and took your phone in his hand.
The screen showed a new contact, and he typed his information into the small boxes. It only took a few seconds before he was done, and he handed you back the phone. “Tattoo guy,” it said in the box where his name should be.
“Tattoo guy?” You snorted. “Is that how you think I see you?”
“Okay wait, give it back. I’ll fix it.” Hongjoong chuckled and held out his hand.
You put the phone back in his hand, and he quickly typed something new in the name box. When you got your phone back it now said “Cute tattoo guy” instead. You smiled at the phone and looked back up at him.
“I’ll accept it.” You nodded.
“Good,” he said and paused to look at you. “I really want to kiss you again… is that okay?”
“More than okay.”
Hongjoong leaned down, capturing your lips with his for a chaste kiss that left you wanting more. Yet again, he didn’t give you more—but he smiled knowingly when he noticed how you chased after his lips. 
“Call me?" he asked.
"Definitely," you nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at the prospect.
As you watched him ride off into the night, you couldn't help but feel a spark of something new and exciting igniting within you. The exhaustion of the shift faded away, replaced by a thrill.
After getting up to your apartment and getting ready for bed, you called him. You weren’t sure if he had meant “call me as soon as you can” when he had asked you to call him, but you didn’t know when else to call. Your heartbeat quickened with each ring before he eventually answered.
“Hello?”
You heard someone shushing other people in the background—maybe you were hallucinating, or it really sounded like Seonghwa. 
“Hongjoong?” you asked.
“Hi, sweetheart!” You heard him shuffle to get up, the murmurs continued before you heard a door open and shut—the wind was now the only background noise.
“Am I interrupting something?” you mumbled.
“Not at all, I’m just with a few friends,” he explained. “I was going to step out for a smoke anyway, they’ll just have to deal with my absence for a bit.”
You heard the sound of a pack of cigarettes opening and a lighter being lit. With the nerves slowly disappearing, you lay down on your back on your bed.
“You smoke?” you asked.
“Is that a turn-off?” he answered with a question. “I’ll stop if it is.”
“No, it’s fine.” You giggled and turned over on your stomach. “I’ve just never smelt any smoke on you before.”
“I don’t smoke that much. I’m trying to quit,” he admitted. “... just not very hard.”
The sound of him taking another drag from the cigarette echoed through the phone, and you let out another small laugh. You felt like you were in high school again, your feet kicking in the air in a slow rhythm.
“Is there a special reason you called tonight, or do you just miss me, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Ah, well… you said to call you and I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to…” you mumbled.
“You’re cute.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you called, actually. I wanted to ask you out on another date.”
You could feel your heart beating in your throat as you listened to Hongjoong's voice on the other end of the line. You fumbled around on your bed until you sat up, trying to calm your nerves. Even though he couldn't see you, you quickly fixed your now messed-up hair, wanting to feel more presentable. His laugh echoed through the phone, and you found yourself smiling, but your hands still shook a little. Talking to him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but imagine him right there with you.
“When?” you asked.
“I have a late appointment tomorrow,” he admitted. “But how about the day after that?”
“I could do that–” You hesitated and thought of your work schedule. “I have a shift until the afternoon, but I could meet you after.”
“Sounds great, I’ll pick you up after your shift. Just text me what time it ends and I’ll be there.” The sound of the door opening and the chatter from inside poured through the phone. Someone asked Hongjoong something and he told them to wait a minute. “Sorry, sweetheart, I have to hang up… text me later, okay?”
“I will,” you hummed. “Goodnight, Hongjoong.”
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said melodically. 
You hung up with a big grin on your face. The only issue now was how you could ever fall asleep tonight.
The day of your date finally arrives. You finish your shift and eagerly text him the time you’ll be off your shift. True to his word, you spot him waiting for you outside your workplace on his sleek black motorbike, a charming smile lighting up his face as you approach.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you warmly, swinging off the bike to offer you a helmet. “Ready for a little adventure?”
You grin, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of riding with him. “Absolutely!”
You hop on behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he starts the engine with a low rumble. The ride to the rooftop bar is exhilarating, the wind tousling your hair and the city passing by in a blur of lights. Hongjoong navigates effortlessly through the traffic, occasionally glancing back to check if you’re comfortable.
Arriving at the rooftop bar, you dismount gracefully, a thrill still lingering from the ride. Hongjoong leads you inside through a discreet entrance, where soft, ambient lighting and the distant hum of conversation immediately set a sophisticated and intimate mood. It’s a casual bar, making your nerves about being underdressed disappear. The bar is adorned with modern decor, plush seating, and a breathtaking view of the city skyline twinkling in the distance.
“This place looks amazing,” you comment, taking in the cozy atmosphere as you settle into your seat at a secluded table.
“I thought you might like it,” Hongjoong replies with a grin.
A waiter walks up and talks to Hongjoong like they’re old friends. He introduces himself to you as Yunho and offers the two of you free first drinks. While Hongjoong tries to decline, Yunho is adamant that he wants to leave a good impression on the person who’s had Hongjoong so distracted lately. With that teasing remark, Hongjoong lets up. Yunho leaves with a wink to you, telling you that he’ll be back with drinks soon.
“I thought he’d be normal about this,” Hongjoond admitted with a sigh. “Sorry…”
“I think he’s nice,” you said and looked over at him with a sly smile. “... I distract you?”
“No– well, yes, but…” You’ve never seen Hongjoong stumble over his words like this before, it’s a sight you could get used to. “I was at Yunho’s place when you called the other day. They haven’t stopped teasing me about it since.”
“I’m sorry,” you said with a not-so-sorry smile but decided to change the subject to be lenient on him. “How do you know each other?”
“He’s in a band I’ve written a few songs for,” he explained. “I’ll take you to one of their gigs sometime if you want.”
“That sounds fun.” You stare at him quizzically. “You just keep revealing new secrets to me, I’m wondering what else you’re hiding.”
“What?”
“It’s just that… there’s so much I don’t know about you, and everything new I learn surprises me.” 
You fidget with one of the napkins on the table. Hongjoong puts one of his hands on top of yours, finding his way to hold your hand. When you looked up at him, he was smiling—a smile that was more like a hug, comforting and soothing.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said. “Soon it won’t be very surprising.”
“I’ll be honest… I don’t know how you could possibly top being a smoking, bike-riding, song-writer.” You let out a nervous chuckle.
Before he can answer, Yunho comes back with the drinks. As you sipped your cocktails, conversation flowed effortlessly between you. You talked about music, discovering Hongjoong’s unique taste, and deep knowledge of various genres. The live band started playing soft, soulful tunes, their melodies blending seamlessly with the murmurs of other patrons.
At one point, Hongjoong leans closer, his voice softening. “I’m really glad we could do this,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “You look beautiful tonight.”
You blushed at his compliment, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Thank you,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a smile.
The night continued with laughter and meaningful conversation. Hongjoong suggested taking a walk along the rooftop’s edge, where you can feel the cool night breeze and admire the city lights below. You strolled hand in hand, the soft glow of the moon overhead adding to the enchanting atmosphere.
As the evening winds down, Hongjoong leads you back to his bike, helmet in hand. He helped you put it on with a gentle touch, the closeness making your heart race with anticipation. The ride home was quick, and Hongjoong drove carefully—although he only had one drink many hours ago, he told you that he didn’t want to risk it.
“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, overwhelmed with gratitude for the wonderful evening.
“It was my pleasure,” Hongjoong replied warmly, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Can we do this again soon?”
You nodded eagerly, already looking forward to the next adventure with him.
“I’ll text you,” he promised, leaning in to give you a tender kiss on the cheek before you parted ways.
You watched him ride off into the night again, a contented smile on your face. This night, filled with exhilarating moments, heartfelt conversations, and a touch of romance, has left you certain of one thing—Hongjoong is someone special.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
The following week, you decided to surprise Hongjoong with lunch. He had mentioned offhandedly that he often didn’t have time to grab something to eat between appointments, and you figured a little gesture of kindness would brighten his day—and give you a reason to see him again. You had the morning shift, and at the end of it, you made the lunch of any leftovers that your boss wouldn’t notice if it went missing. As soon as the clock struck twelve, and your shift was over, you headed out.
As you approached the studio, you saw Hongjoong through the window, chatting with a customer. Your heart sank when you realized it was the same person he had been talking to the last time you were here. She was as gorgeous and intimidating as the first time you had seen her. They were laughing, and the way she leaned in closely sent a pang of jealousy through you.
You hesitated at the door, debating whether to turn around and leave. Just as you were about to retreat, Hongjoong glanced up and his eyes met yours. His face lit up with that familiar, infectious smile, and he immediately bounced over to the door, leaving the customer mid-sentence.
"Y/N! What brings you here?" he asked, genuinely pleased to see you.
You held up the lunch bag, trying to keep your tone casual. "I brought you lunch. You mentioned you didn’t have much time to get food, so I thought I’d help out."
Hongjoong's eyes sparkled with delight. "That’s so sweet of you."
He took the bag from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. The customer, now standing awkwardly by the counter, cleared her throat and gave a half-hearted smile before leaving the studio with a curt goodbye.
Hongjoong didn’t seem to notice the customer's departure or the slightly annoyed look on her face. Instead, he turned his full attention to you, completely oblivious to the fact that she had been flirting with him just moments before. Your eyes met his again after watching her leave.
"Was that jealousy I saw on your face just now?" he teased, raising an eyebrow playfully. "You looked like you were ready to storm out."
You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly shook your head. "No, I just... didn’t want to interrupt."
Hongjoong chuckled warmly, his laughter putting you at ease. "Well, I’m glad you did. This looks delicious." He peeked into the bag and smiled appreciatively. "Seriously, thank you."
You shrugged modestly, attempting to hide your nervousness. "It’s nothing. Just thought you could use a good meal."
His expression softened as he stepped closer. "It means a lot. Really. I’ll make sure to savor every bite."
His sincerity touched you deeply, and a warm feeling spread through your chest. "I’m glad," you managed to say, feeling a surge of happiness at his genuine appreciation.
Hongjoong leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. "You always seem to know how to make my day better," he confessed, his gaze earnest.
A flutter of butterflies danced in your stomach at his words. "I’m just happy to help," you replied softly, meeting his eyes with a smile.
He nodded, his smile widening. "Well, I’m grateful for it. And I owe you one."
Before you could respond, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through you, leaving you both comforted and excited for what might come next.
"I'd love for you to stay," Hongjoong said earnestly, his eyes reflecting a mix of sincerity and hope.
You hesitated, feeling a flutter of nerves despite the warmth his presence brought. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude..."
Hongjoong shook his head, his smile reassuring. "You wouldn't be intruding at all. I enjoy your company, and I'd love to share this lunch with you."
His sincerity melted away your reservations. "Okay then," you replied softly, smiling back at him.
He led you to a cozy corner of his office where he had already set out the lunch you had brought. You settled into chairs nearby, the familiar buzz of the studio outside muffled by the closed door.
As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily between you. You talked about his latest projects, your shared love for certain bands, and plans for the upcoming weekend. Hongjoong's passion for music shone through as he animatedly described his friend’s upcoming gig.
"You should come," he suggested, his eyes lighting up. "It’s going to be a great show, and I’d love for you to be there."
You considered it for a moment, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of experiencing another part of Hongjoong’s world. "I'd love to come," you replied warmly. "It sounds like a lot of fun."
His smile widened, a mixture of happiness and anticipation. "Great! I’ll send you the details later. My friends will love you, I’m sure."
As lunch drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave. The afternoon had been unexpectedly intimate and comforting, deepening the bond between you and Hongjoong. You were beginning to see glimpses of how well you fit together, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.
"I should probably get going," you said, glancing at the time.
Hongjoong nodded, but his eyes held a hint of reluctance. "I understand. Thanks for staying. I always enjoy your company."
You smiled warmly. "Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time."
Walking out of the tattoo shop, you couldn’t help but replay the moments spent with Hongjoong in your mind. Each interaction seemed to reinforce the connection between you, leaving you eager for more shared experiences and conversations. As promised, Hongjoong texted you later with the details of his friend's gig. You replied with enthusiasm, already looking forward to the weekend and the chance to see him again. 
Your heart raced with excitement and a touch of nervousness as you meticulously prepared for your next date with Hongjoong. After several wardrobe changes and a quick touch-up of makeup, you settled on your favorite outfit: a soft, flowy blouse paired with well-fitted jeans. The blouse, a delicate shade of lavender, complemented your complexion, while the jeans, perfectly worn-in, exuded a laid-back vibe. You added a few subtle accessories—a dainty necklace that caught the light just so, and a pair of earrings that added a touch of sparkle.
The anticipation bubbled within you as you imagined the evening ahead. It wasn't just about the outing itself but the chance to see Hongjoong in his element, surrounded by the music and energy that fueled his passion. You wondered what surprises the night might hold, eager to share more moments together and deepen the connection that had been growing steadily between you.
With a final check of your phone for any messages from Hongjoong, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Each step carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation, knowing that tonight would be another chapter in your unfolding story with Hongjoong—a story that seemed to promise more laughter, heartfelt conversations, and perhaps even a hint of romance.
When you arrived at the venue, the place was already buzzing with energy. The dim, moody lighting and the low hum of the crowd set the perfect atmosphere for a night of live music. Hongjoong had invited you to his friend's gig, and as you stepped inside, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between your outfit and the attire of the other attendees. The room was filled with people dressed in sleek black attire—leather jackets, ripped jeans, and boots. Hongjoong fit right in.
For a moment, self-consciousness crept in as you wondered if you had misjudged the dress code. However, Hongjoong's wide smile and warm hug dispelled any lingering doubts.
"I’m so glad you came," he said, taking your hand. 
You returned his hug, feeling reassured by his warmth. "Wouldn't miss it," you replied with a smile, trying to shake off your initial uncertainty about your outfit choice.
Hongjoong glanced at your outfit, a playful glint in his eyes. "You look amazing," he said sincerely, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I love the pop of color—it stands out in the best way."
His compliment eased your nerves, and you found yourself relaxing in the vibrant atmosphere of the venue. As Hongjoong's friend took the stage, you settled in beside him, enjoying the electrifying energy of the crowd and the raw passion in the music.
As the concert started, the venue's atmosphere crackled with energy. Jongho, the charismatic singer; Mingi and San, the energetic guitarists; Yunho, the cool and composed bassist; and Yeosang, the talented drummer took their positions on stage. Wooyoung, who, despite not seemingly being a part of the band, was just backstage as Hongjoong pointed out to you. If only Seonghwa were here, the entire group would be together—and you were starting to notice why they were so close.
They launched into their first song, filling the air with pulsating rhythms and electrifying melodies. Not only was their music and stage presence impressive, their chemistry with each other was undeniable. The crowd around you danced and cheered, fully immersed in the music and the infectious excitement of the performance.
You stood beside Hongjoong, initially captivated by his enthusiasm and the way he effortlessly moved to the beat. However, as the concert progressed and the crowd grew more animated, you found yourself momentarily separated from him in the sea of bodies. Panic gripped your chest as you scanned the area, searching for his familiar figure amidst the shifting shadows and flashes of colored lights.
The dim lighting and the swirling mass of people seemed to conspire against you, making it difficult to pinpoint his location. Voices merged into a distant roar, blending with the thumping bass and reverberating guitar riffs. You pushed through the crowd, calling out his name in a mix of urgency and concern, your heart pounding in your ears.
Just as your anxiety peaked, a flash of bleach-blonde hair caught your eye in the crowd ahead. Relief flooded through you like a tidal wave as you hurried towards him. Hongjoong turned at the sound of your voice, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw you approaching.
"Hey! There you are," he exclaimed over the music, reaching out to take you by your waist and pull you in closer.
You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension drain from your body. "I was looking everywhere for you," you admitted, relieved beyond words to have found him safe and sound.
He chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement and affection. "Sorry about that. Got caught up in the music." He leaned in and spoke softly in your ear.
You couldn't help but smile back, the rush of emotions settling into a warm glow of contentment. "It's okay," you replied. "I'm just glad I found you."
He took your hand again, and this time, he didn’t let go. You moved through the crowd together, finding a spot near the stage where you had a great view of the performance. The band was fantastic, and you quickly realized why Hongjoong was so proud of his friends. Together, you leaned into each other, enjoying the rest of the concert side by side. The music continued to pulse through the air, weaving a tapestry of melodies that seemed to resonate with the newfound closeness between you.
After the set, he led you backstage—an area littered with dirty towels, instruments, gear, and a few empty beer bottles—a grin spreading across his face as he introduced you to everyone. "Guys, this is the person I’ve been telling you about."
They greeted you warmly, but it wasn’t long before the teasing began. Jongho was the first to speak up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, you’re the one who’s got Hongjoong all smitten?"
Mingi chuckled, nudging San. "Yeah, you don’t look like his usual type at all."
San nodded a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like our boy Hongjoong has developed a bit of a corruption kink, huh?"
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you glanced at Hongjoong, who was trying to suppress a laugh. "Guys, come on," he said, shaking his head. "Don’t scare them off."
Yeosang joined in, trying to make up for the others’ drunken comments. "We’re just surprised. You look so sweet and innocent compared to his usual taste."
You felt a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a strange sort of pride. Despite the teasing, it was clear they cared about Hongjoong and were curious about you. Hongjoong wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.
"Don’t mind them," he whispered in your ear. "They can be jerks when they’re drunk."
You smiled up at him, feeling more at ease. "It’s okay. I can handle it."
Wooyoung clapped his hands together, grinning. "Alright, enough teasing. Let’s get to the after-party!"
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, music, and good company. Hongjoong stayed by your side, making sure you felt included and comfortable. As the night drew to a close, you realized how much you enjoyed being a part of his world and seeing him in his element.
When it was time to leave, Hongjoong walked you to the front door, his arm wrapped protectively around you. "Thanks for coming tonight," he said softly.
You smiled, leaning into him. "I had a great time. I like your friends."
He chuckled. "Yeah, they’re a handful, but they’re the best." You stood there for a moment, the night air cool and crisp around you. You wanted to say something else, to question what his friends had said earlier, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
Hongjoong drove you home, the hum of the engine and the cool night air doing little to ease the swirling thoughts in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Hongjoong’s friends had said. The teasing comments replayed in your head, making you wonder if you really were out of place in his life.
When he pulled up in front of your apartment, you hesitated before speaking. "Hongjoong, would you mind coming inside for a bit?"
He looked at you, concern etched on his face. "Of course. Let’s go."
He parked his motorbike and followed you inside the apartment complex for the first time. You led him up to your apartment, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. As you opened the door and stepped inside, you suddenly felt self-conscious about the cute decor—soft pastel colors, plush cushions, and delicate trinkets that filled the space. It was a stark contrast to the edgy vibe Hongjoong and his friends exuded—the very reason you were feeling so self-conscious.
He took in the surroundings with a smile. "Your place is really nice. It suits you."
You blushed, fidgeting slightly. "Thanks. I just... I know it’s not exactly your style."
Hongjoong stepped closer, his expression was serious yet gentle. "This isn’t about what the guys said, right? I think it’s great. It’s you."
You looked down, feeling a little better but still needing answers. "Well... they made me feel… Am I not your type?"
He sighed, running a hand through his bleached hair. "They were just messing around. I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable– it’s just that, they know me. They know how I was before you. In the past… I wasn’t always the nicest guy when it came to relationships."
You looked at him, curiosity and concern mixing in your gaze. "What do you mean?"
Hongjoong took a deep breath, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. "I dated a lot, but I never really cared about anyone, I guess? It was all just fun and games to me.” He took a deep breath and looked at you with an overwhelming sense of worry. “But with you, it’s different. You’re different. I don’t want to mess this up."
You couldn’t help yourself, you had to ask. "Is that why you haven’t... you know... tried anything with me yet?"
He opened and closed his mouth again, unprepared for the question. "I just don’t want to scare you off. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with."
“Why would you scare me off?” you asked.
Hongjoong’s face turned red, and he looked down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly. His usual confident demeanor seemed to vanish, replaced by a shy vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. The blush creeping up his neck and the way he bit his lower lip were both endearing and unexpected, revealing a side of him you hadn't seen before. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken emotions.
Hongjoong took a deep breath, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "I'm a bit more... adventurous in bed than most… God, I can’t even explain it." He groaned and shut his eyes tight.
You blinked, processing his words. The vulnerability in his eyes confessed secrets to you that you hadn’t seen before, a part of him he had kept hidden. "You mean, like... more adventurous how?"
He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I like trying new things, pushing boundaries… I have certain… kinks. I understand if that’s not what you want– I think that’s what the boys were getting at, that you just don’t… you don’t look like the type to enjoy that, which is completely fine and–"
You reached out, taking his hand in yours, and Hongjoong’s rambling quieted down. "I appreciate you being honest with me. I want to understand you better, and… I’m willing to try some things."
His eyes softened. "Are you sure? You’re not just saying that, right? Because if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine– the last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable."
You nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I trust you… just go slow? Please?"
Hongjoong pulled you into a gentle hug, holding you close. "We’ll take it slow, I promise."
As you stood there in his arms, the worries and doubts from earlier began to fade away. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. From the way he was acting now, you couldn’t picture him being as rough as he seemed to be alluding to. Excitement bubbled up in your stomach, surprising yourself.
You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Hongjoong cupped your face gently with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of his touch made your heart race.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. "Yes."
He leaned in slowly, giving you a chance to back out if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your lips finally touching his. The kiss started out tender and tentative as if he was afraid of breaking the moment. His lips were soft and warm, and you melted into him, feeling the world around you disappear.
As the kiss deepened, his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own. The passion between you grew, the kiss becoming more urgent and fervent. His other hand slid down to your waist, holding you tightly against him.
Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the rest of the world fading away. All that mattered was the connection you felt with him, the electricity coursing through your veins. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.
Hongjoong's eyes were dark with desire, his voice a low murmur. "Should we... go to your bedroom?"
You nodded, your heart racing. "Please."
You took his hand, leading him down the hallway to your bedroom. Your heart was racing when you finally reached the door and opened it. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, casting a gentle glow over the bed.
Hongjoong turned to face you, his expression tender yet intense. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"
You smiled, placing your hands over his. "I'm sure."
He kissed you again, this time slower and more deliberate, savoring every moment. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you backed toward the bed. When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you sat down, bringing him with you—his knees on the bed.
Hongjoong's hands roamed over your body over the thin material of your blouse, exploring with a reverent touch. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers through you. He kissed along your jawline, down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
You leaned back onto the bed, pulling him down with you. The softness of the sheets contrasted with the firmness of his body above you. Hongjoong reached his hand to the buttons of your blouse, which he hesitantly unbuttoned—his lips staying on yours. You helped him take off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear. He pulled away from you and paused for a moment, looking down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. The soft lace of your bra and panties practically called out to him, and he delicately traced it with his fingertips.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered.
You felt too naked staring at his clothed body. Once he noticed your nervous stare, he pulled off his shirt and shuffled out of his pants. You could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, and you found yourself clenching around nothing at the sight. He smiled, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body against yours.
“Is it okay if I take this off?” he murmured against your lips, breathless, as he played with the hem of your bra. As soon as you nodded, he unclasped it and let it fall off your shoulders. His lips immediately met your delicate skin, pressing soft kisses before marking your most sensitive areas.
“Hongjoong–” Your breath hitched in your throat as his tongue swirled around your nipple.  
He paused, immediately looking at your face to make sure you were okay. When he saw your swollen lips and big eyes he smiled—unlike the sweet smile you’d seen so many times before, this time he almost looked wicked. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.
“Is it okay if I tie your hands up, baby?” he asked gently.
Your eyebrows furrowed. “Tie my hands up?” 
“Yes.” He leaned back up and pressed a kiss to your jawline. “Against the headboard. I want to have you writhing underneath me.”
You nodded and whispered a yes when you saw Hongjoong’s stern gaze. While he picked his belt up from the floor, you moved over to the headboard. Without him saying a word, you put your hands up, putting your wrists near one of the railings of the headboard. You knew you had done the right thing when Hongjoong looked at you with a proud smile, and you pressed your legs together at the feeling it gave you.
“You’re so obedient,” he murmured as he went to tie your hands to the headboard. “It’s cute.”
Hongjoong carefully made handcuffs out of his belt and tied your wrists to the headboard. You couldn’t move your arms, but the belt was tied loosely enough for it to still be somewhat comfortable. He put two fingers between your wrist and the leather to make sure it wasn’t too tight. You could probably get yourself out, but you didn’t want to. Hongjoong stepped back to look at you, the wicked smile back on his lips. He got between your legs without another word, pressing his thumb against your clit over the soft material of your panties. You tried to close your legs, but he held them apart.
“Are you doing okay so far, baby?” he asked as he caressed your hips and looked at you with his familiar gentle eyes. You nodded. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“I’m okay,” you murmured.
“Good.” He looked back down at your cunt, noticing the wet patch growing on your underwear. “I’ll keep your hands tied until I’ve made you cum twice… don’t cum without my permission.”
It was clear that he had thought about this before, and the thought of him lying awake at night picturing you in such a lewd position made you throb with need. You’d never noticed this side of you—a depraved part that you had apparently been keeping under lock and key. Hongjoong just had the talent of luring it out of you. When he looked back up at you again, his eyes were ever so slightly softer.
“If you want me to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop immediately. No matter what. Okay, baby?”
“Yes, sir.” The title just came out of your mouth, you didn’t even process it.
Hongjoong didn’t say anything about it, but you could see in his eyes that he liked it—you did well. He laid down between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep them open. Before you could say another word, he pressed his tongue flat over your clothed pussy. You gasped at the sudden warmth, your arms straining against the restraints. Hongjoong groaned at the taste, and you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he pressed his nose against your core. Your heart was beating a mile a minute; you’d never seen someone react to you this way. With soft motions—too soft—Hongjoong began rubbing your clit over your panties. It was too slow and you could barely feel anything, your hips desperately bucking up to get more friction. From the look on Hongjoong’s face, this was apparently the point. He wanted to break you, just a little before you got what you wanted. He studied your expression, the way your eyes shut tight and eyebrows furrowed whenever he pushed down a little harder. 
“Please,” you whimpered.
“Please what?”
“Take them off,” you begged, “I want to feel you.”
It was all it took for him to rid you of your panties, and you dutifully lifted up your hips to help him. Only a few seconds later, his tongue was on your cunt again—lavishing in how wet you had gotten from just a bit of teasing. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up. Your moans grew louder, your legs started shaking, and you pulled more and more on your restraints. Hongjoong kept studying you, keeping his eyes open and focused while eating you out. He stopped before you reached the edge.
“Why?” you whined.
“I told you not to cum without my permission,” he stated, matter-of-fact.
You whined and wiggled your hips. Hongjoong pushed them down with one of his hands, the other one caressing your side soothingly. “As long as you do as I say, you’ll feel good, baby.”
You nodded pathetically— whimpering out another “yes, sir,” which had the same effect on him as it did before. It was all he needed to dive back into your core. His tongue expertly lapped at your pussy, his eyes now closed in pleasure. As his tongue started prodding at your hole, his tongue bumping against your clit, you started grinding on his face. It wasn’t like you meant to do it, it just felt too good. With a stern arm, Hongjoong held you down. You wanted to do something—anything—your orgasm was building up in your stomach once again and you needed to move. You wanted to push your legs together at the overwhelming feeling, pull his head closer to you by his hair, and keep grinding against him all at once. Hongjoong was restricting all of your movements.
“Please, let me cum!” you all but shouted.
“Do it.” Hongjoong’s demand was simple. A low growl that you barely heard over the sound of your own wet pussy, but it had you unraveling there and then.
The sound of you pulling on your restraints was drowned out by your own moans as the coil in your stomach snapped. Hongjoong moaned against your core, the vibrations making your legs shake. You heard yourself murmur a “thank you, sir,” as Hongjoong helped you come down from your high by letting you rub against his palm.
“You’re doing so good,” he praised. “Just one more before I free your hands, alright?”
You hummed. Hongjoong slapped the inside of your thigh, the stinging sensation made you gasp. You looked at him with wide eyes, only to be met with a grin.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you to use your words again, should I, baby?”
You shook your head, and then quickly added, “No, sir.” Hongjoong rubbed a soothing hand over the area where he had slapped you, and you melted into the touch. The feeling quickly disappeared, however, as his fingers reached for your core again. Your head became clouded as his fingers prodded at your entrance. Just one more, you repeated in your head. You wondered if he’d let you have his cock tonight—almost worried about it—and you let out a low whine. Hongjoong looked at you with concern.
“Are you going to… you know…” You looked at his arm, at the tattoos sneaking down to his hand which was still toying with your core. “Fuck me?”
Hongjoong’s hand faltered at your vulgar words, a smile broke out on his face. “Thought I’d save it for when you can touch me.”
There will be more? Your head was spinning at the thought. You were used to cumming once on your vibrator before going to sleep, too tired to go on by yourself. Cumming three times in a row wasn’t something you’d done in a while—if ever. If you had, you couldn’t remember.
“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he reminded you as his middle finger entered you.
After pumping the finger inside you for a while, he added another. He put his palm against your clit and let you grind against it while he kept thrusting his fingers into you—curling them against your g-spot, once he’d found it. While you were busy shutting your eyes tight at the stimulation, Hongjoong leaned up and captured one of your nipples in his mouth again. You gasped at the feeling—it was almost overwhelming. All of these sensations, and the promise of getting to have his cock inside you, were making you get closer and closer to the edge.
“Are you going to cum again, baby?” he coos at you, whispering in your ear, “I can feel you clenching around me.”
You let out a gasp that turned into a moan, as he started sucking on the sensitive spot right by your jaw. After managing to whimper out a confirmation, he ordered you to cum again. It was all you needed to release all over his hand. Your moans were drowned out by his lips on your again. His fingers slowed down, but he kept his hands between your legs until your movements stopped. Without another word, Hongjoong licked his fingers clean and helped you out of your restraints. As soon as you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head lay on his chest, and Hongjoong welcomed you into his embrace.
“Are you okay to keep going, baby?” he asked softly.
You were practically buzzing with anticipation. “Please.”
When Hongjoong asked if you had a condom, your heart dropped to your stomach. You hadn’t been sleeping with anyone for a while, of course, you didn’t have condoms anywhere.
“... no,” you muttered. “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”
“Checked it a few months ago. I’m clean,” he murmured. 
You looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Then, please, just fuck me?”
How could he say no to you? He smiled, pressing an unfittingly chaste kiss on your lips. After he moved to sit by your legs again, he quickly manhandled you onto your hands and knees. Your fuzzy brain didn’t even have time to process what he was doing before it was done.
“But I can’t touch you like this!” you whined.
“Mm… I lied.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Cum one more time and I’ll let you touch me. Just one more.”
You wanted to whine and complain, but the proud look on his face appeared in your mind. You wanted to please him, you couldn’t deny that. So, you shut your mouth and arch your back—pressing your ass against him. You can feel that he’s pulled off his underwear now, and you ached to see him. All of him. Your mouth all but watered at the thought.
“Please, fuck me,” you said again. “Please, sir.”
He groaned at the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing up against him, and quickly guided his cock to your entrance. He goes slowly at first, letting you get used to his size. However, you grow impatient and start moving yourself further down his cock. Hongjoong gripped your hips—his warm hands feel like they belong there—and stopped you from moving.
“I’m in charge here, sweetheart,” he reminded you. “Want me to go faster? Beg.”
“Please fuck me faster, sir, I want you to fill me up.” The words come pouring out of you without stop, you become a blubbering mess as he starts shallowly fucking into you at a faster pace. “Yes! Please, more! I need more!”
You can’t think of anything except how good he’s filling you up. You’re not sure you’ve ever lost yourself in someone this way—no one has ever taken control over you like this, fucked you like this, molded you to their body like this. He’s ruined everyone else for you, you’re sure of it. His hips slam against yours, filling you up completely. You open your mouth to thank him, but only a noise of surprise and pleasure comes out. Hongjoong’s hand had come down on your ass, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin.
“Again,” you whimper.
His hand comes down on you again, and you moan. You never knew you were into pain like this—but whatever he was doing, he was not allowed to stop. Hongjoong’s hips started moving against yours again, and his hand came down on you with every other thrust. You were a drooling mess. The makeup you had put on was running down your cheeks as you babbled out an endless sentence of thank you. 
“You’re mine,” he growled. “So good, taking whatever I give you—aren’t you such a good obedient slut?”
“Yes, sir! I’m your obedient slut!” you moaned out, your hands gripping the sheets. “Please, let me cum! Please, please, please…”
“Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he demanded.
With a choked moan, the coil in your stomach exploded into a fiery pit—burning your skin until it made you see stars. Hongjoong pulled out and came on your back, groaning as he did. You collapsed on the bed, and you felt the bed tip to one side. He had gotten some tissues from the box on your nightstand and wiped off the cum from your back. You turned around to see him throwing the tissue to the side, holding your arms out to him. His chest pressed against yours as he embraced you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The dominant Hongjoong was gone, you could tell from his soft kiss. There was still a craving lingering in you. Although you were tired, you started grinding against his still-hard cock. He put his hand on your hip, right by your tattoo.
“Baby, you’re too tired,” he murmured.
“You said I could touch you if I came again,” you whined.
Your brain was foggy, all you needed and wanted was for him to touch you—to fuck you slowly into your mattress. He smiled at your pout, before leaning in to kiss it away. You smiled back at him, and Hongjoong strangled a laugh at the sight of you.
“Just one more?” you asked.
He groaned as you reached down to guide his cock to your entrance again. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
“Okay.”
He started to slowly thrust into you again. Hissing at how sensitive you both were, you paused all movement as he had bottomed out in you. Hongjoong’s arms were on either side of your head, holding himself up to look at you. You reached out your finger and carefully traced the tattoos on his chest.
“You’re pretty,” you murmured.
It was dark in your room, but you swore you could see his face get red. Hongjoong didn’t respond, he only started moving slowly against you again. You let out small grunts and whimpers, your hands finding their place on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.
“You feel so good…” Hongjoong’s head fell to the crook of your neck, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hold him there.
One of your hands found its way to his short hair, tangling your fingers into the mess. Your legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to keep him close. His body was warm, and you wanted to steal that warmth to keep it safe.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “So good to me…”
“Hongjoong.” You made him look at you again, his hips never stopped moving. His forehead leaned against yours as he stared deep into your eyes. “Cum inside me.”
He didn’t respond, but you knew he’d keep you to your word from the way that he kissed you. It was as if he was pouring his adoration into every move of his lips. One of his hands moved down to rub your clit, making your legs shake around him. With a grunt, he came inside you and you came soon after him. The two of you stayed in that position, chests heaving.
“You’re amazing,” you breathed out.
“I could say the same about you.” He grinned before pressing a kiss to your cheek and getting up. “I’ll get you cleaned up, stay here.”
He walked over to the door but hesitated as he realized that he didn’t know the layout of your apartment. “The bathroom’s to your left when you walk out of that door.” You giggled. 
He walked out with a sheepish smile, his ears red, and came back only a few seconds later with a warm, wet washcloth. Hongjoong wiped you off carefully as if he was wiping off porcelain. You reached your hand up to his head, trying to tame his wild hair by running your fingers through it.
“Does it look weird?” he asked without looking up at you, his focus was on your tattoo—he traced the lines of the lotus flower with his fingers.
“It’s just messy…” you hummed. “... maybe a little weird.” He looked away from your tattoo, and the two of you laughed as your eyes met. 
After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom, Hongjoong got you under the covers in your bed before he got in next to you. Lying together, you nestled against Hongjoong’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothed any lingering nerves, its gentle thump a comforting backdrop to the stillness of the night. He stroked your hair tenderly, his fingers moving in a slow, relaxing pattern that made your eyelids grow heavy with contentment.
“This feels nice,” you murmured, your voice thick with drowsiness.
He tightened his embrace slightly, resting his chin on top of your head. “It really does… I’m glad you invited me up.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the soft, dim light from the street lights and passing cars filtering through the curtains. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart swell. “Me too.”
He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Was it okay? You’re not overwhelmed or anything?”
“I’m fine, Hongjoong,” you murmured.
“I just want to make sure—”
“I know.” You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. “It’s sweet… but I’m okay… I liked it, actually.”
“Good.” He couldn’t hide his boyish grin. “Are you sure you haven’t done it before? You were too good for—”
You slapped his chest lightly, biting back your smile at his teasing. “Stop it.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He snickered, his laughter a low, pleasant rumble against your ear. “Seriously though, you were amazing.”
“So were you.” You sighed happily, snuggling closer. The warmth of his body and the security of his arms around you made you feel incredibly safe. As you lay there, you felt a profound sense of peace, the worries of the world melting away. Hongjoon’s hand found the lotus flower design on your hip again. Moving his body ever so slightly, he looked at the inked skin under the sheets, carefully studying his work. His fingers continued to trace the intricate design of your tattoo, the gentle touch sending shivers down your spine.
“It healed well,” he commented.
“It did.” You hummed, cupping his face in your hand to make him meet your eyes. His eyebrows raised and he looked at you with big eyes, silently asking if you were okay. You nodded and he smiled, leaning up to press a kiss on your swollen lips.
“I thought the design was pretty on its own.” He pressed a kiss on your cheek. “But it’s even prettier on you.”
“Smooth-talker.” You scoffed but smiled lovingly anyway.
He leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m just telling the truth,” he said with a playful smile. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you again while you rolled your eyes.
“Goodnight,” you whispered.
“Goodnight, baby,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.
The two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. His hand stayed on your hip.
You woke to the gentle caress of morning light streaming through your curtains. The first thing you noticed was Hongjoong lying beside you, his presence as comforting as the warmth of the sun on your skin. His hair, a tousled mess of soft blond strands, framed his peaceful face, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He looked so serene, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, completely at ease in his slumber.
As you lay there, your heart swelled with a sense of contentment, the kind that only comes from waking up next to someone you love. Carefully, you reached out, your fingers gently threading through his bleached hair, feeling its softness against your skin. He stirred slightly at your touch, his nose twitching in response, and a soft hum escaped his lips. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer as if even in his sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.
You watched him for a moment longer, memorizing the way the morning light kissed his features, casting delicate shadows on his skin. The peaceful expression on his face, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, the gentle curve of his lips—it all filled you with a warmth that radiated from deep within, spreading through every part of you.
Careful not to wake him, you slipped out of his embrace and out of bed. After putting on clothes, you padded to the kitchen to start breakfast. The sounds and smells of cooking soon filled the apartment, and just as you were finishing up, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.
"Good morning," Hongjoong mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.
You turned your head to look at him, his hair even more disheveled now. "Good morning. I hope you like your eggs scrambled."
He grinned, planting a kiss on your cheek. "I love them. Especially if you're the one making them."
The two of you moved around the kitchen in a cozy, intimate dance, making breakfast together. There was a comforting rhythm to it, an easy familiarity that made you feel like you’d been doing this for years. You chatted about small things, laughed at silly jokes, and stole kisses in between setting the table and making coffee.
Once everything was ready, you sat down to eat. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you felt a deep sense of contentment. After breakfast, Hongjoong insisted on helping you clean up, and soon it was time to get ready for work. As you gathered your things, he offered to drop you off, and you happily agreed.
When you arrived at the café, you saw Seonghwa already seated at a table near the window. He ate breakfast at the café from time to time, mostly when he missed you or when he didn’t have the energy to make breakfast at home. He glanced up and saw you through the big windows as you walked up to the café, a curious look in his eyes. 
Hongjoong walked you to the door, his hand lingering on the small of your back. "Have a good day at work," he said softly, leaning in for a quick kiss.
You blushed, aware of the eyes on you. "You too. Thanks for breakfast and everything."
As you stepped inside, Seonghwa immediately waved you over. "Hey, you look... different today. Did something happen?"
You shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral but unable to hide the small smile playing on your lips. "Just had a good morning, that’s all."
Your coworker joined in, smirking. "Uh-huh, sure. And was that Hongjoong who just dropped you off?"
You felt your cheeks heat up again. "Maybe..."
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "What did he do to make you glow like that this early in the morning, huh?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "... he may have spent the night after we saw the gig that his friends were playing. But I’m not saying anything else. You would’ve known if you had been there!"
“I was busy with work,” he whined. “You have to tell me!”
“I don’t remember putting that in our contract,” you joked. “Now, leave me alone! I have a shift to get to!”
With that, you slipped behind the counter, ready to start your shift. Despite the teasing and the curious glances, you couldn’t help but feel light and happy. The memory of the morning with Hongjoong stayed with you, a warm, comforting presence that made the day feel just a little bit brighter.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Over the next few weeks, you saw Hongjoong regularly. Your connection deepened with each meeting, but despite the growing intimacy between you, he never initiated anything sexual. It was both endearing and frustrating. You appreciated his respect for your boundaries, but it also made you shy and hesitant to make the first move.
One afternoon, while you were tidying up at the café, your phone buzzed with a message from Hongjoong.
Hey, can you stop by the shop after work? I have something I want to show you.
Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message. You quickly typed back, Sure! I get off at 5. See you then!
The rest of your shift passed in a blur of anticipation. As soon as the clock struck five, you grabbed your things and headed to his studio. The familiar walk seemed shorter than usual, your excitement propelling you forward.
When you arrived, the shop was quiet, a stark contrast to its usual buzz of activity. You stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of a tattoo machine and the scent of ink and antiseptic. Hongjoong looked out from his tattoo room and smiled, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.
"Hey," he greeted, finishing up the last touches on his current project. "Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you."
You nodded, taking a seat and watching him work. His focus and skill never ceased to amaze you. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his hands steady and precise.
After a few minutes, he finished and cleaned up, then came over to you. "Thanks for waiting. I’m really glad you could come by."
"No problem," you replied, your curiosity piqued. "So, what did you want to show me?"
Hongjoong grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Follow me."
He led you to a back room you hadn’t seen before. Inside was a collection of his artwork, framed and displayed on the walls. Sketches, paintings, and tattoo designs filled the space, each piece a testament to his talent and creativity.
"Wow, Hongjoong," you breathed, taking it all in. "This is incredible. I knew you worked a lot but, this…"
He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, it’s kind of my personal gallery. I wanted to share it with you."
You turned to him, touched by the gesture. "Your work is amazing."
He stepped closer, his expression softening. "I wanted you to see this because... well, you’re important to me. And I want you to know me better, all sides of me."
Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out, taking his hand. "Thank you for showing me this."
He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked onto yours. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken feelings and mutual understanding. You felt the urge to close the distance between you, but still, the hesitation lingered.
Sensing your uncertainty, Hongjoong smiled and pulled you into a warm embrace. You lost yourself in the domesticity of the moment, feeling content in his arms. "How was your day?" he murmured.
"Good," you replied, smiling up at him. "How about you?"
"Busy, but good," he said, pulling away from him. "Listen, I was wondering if you’re free for dinner tonight. I’d like to cook for you, as a thank you for the breakfast from a few weeks ago."
Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of Hongjoong cooking for you in an intimate setting set loose the butterflies in your stomach. "I’d love that."
He grinned. "Great! Let me just lock up, and we’ll head over to my place."
As he closed up the shop, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. You assumed that inviting you over for dinner meant he might finally make a move, and the thought both thrilled and made you slightly nervous.
The ride to his apartment was a little longer than it had been to your place, and you started to understand why he had bought a motorbike instead of a car. While the cars were stuck slowly rolling forward during rush hour, Hongjoong easily passed them in between the lanes. When you arrived, he led you inside, and you took a moment to take in your surroundings. His place was cozy and stylish, with a mix of modern and vintage decor that reflected his artistic nature—most of it in black.
"Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing to the living room. "I’ll get started on dinner."
You settled onto the couch, watching him move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The aroma of garlic and herbs soon filled the air, and you felt that warm sense of domestic bliss wash over you yet again.
"Can I help with anything?" you offered, not wanting to just sit idly by.
He shook his head, smiling. "Nope, I’ve got it covered. Just relax and enjoy."
You chatted as he cooked, the conversation flowing effortlessly. It felt so natural, so right, to be there with him. Before long, he called you to the table, which he had set beautifully with candles and your favorite flowers.
"Dinner is served," he said with a flourish, placing a delicious-looking pasta dish in front of you.
You laughed, feeling a bit like you were in a romantic movie. "This looks amazing. Thank you, Hongjoong."
He walked back to the kitchen with a pleased smile on his face. "I’m glad you like it."
Hongjoong came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. You watched him with heart eyes as he opened the bottle, practically drooling over how his hands looked—and either he just didn’t notice, or he decided to ignore it, but he didn’t comment on your staring. He sat down in front of you and poured you a glass.
“You always call me ‘Hongjoong,’” he said.
“Hm?” You looked up at him from your glass of wine. “It’s your name.”
“I know, I know…” For the first time since you’d met him, he was getting shy. “I think it’d be nice if you started… I don’t know, forget about it.”
“What? Do you like pet names?” you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice. When you saw him nodding, your heart all but soared. You hadn’t expected someone like him to like cute, couple nicknames—maybe you should’ve guessed it from the number of times he called you sweetheart, baby, or love. “Like ‘baby?’ ‘Sweetie?’ ‘Pumpkin?’ ‘Sugar-cube?’”
“Now you’re just teasing me.” He groaned, but let out a laugh soon after. 
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” you admit with a giggle and start eating. “Could you pass me the salt, baby?”
Hongjoong’s grin grew wider, just at the cusp of letting out an adorable giggle, and he handed you the salt.
As you ate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was special. The food was delicious, the atmosphere perfect, and the company even better. Every now and then, your eyes would meet, and the unspoken connection between you seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Despite the pleasant ambiance, restlessness gnawed at you, making it difficult to focus on the meal. You twirled your fork absentmindedly, dropping subtle hints and playful comments, hoping Hongjoong would pick up on your mood.
He looked up from his plate, eyebrow quirked in amusement. "What's gotten into you tonight?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of teasing.
You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off his question. "Oh, nothing," you replied, avoiding his gaze as you took a sip of water.
Hongjoong leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes—as if he was ready to get you back for teasing him before. "Come on," he urged, reaching across the table to gently touch your hand. "Tell me what you're up to. You're acting strange."
Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you struggled to maintain composure. Looking into his eyes, you found it hard to resist his playful charm. "Okay, fine," you finally admitted, your voice quieter than intended. "I've just been thinking... about us."
A flicker of concern crossed Hongjoong's face, and he squeezed your hand gently. "About us?" he prompted softly.
You nodded, feeling the weight of your confession. "Yeah," you began slowly, choosing your words carefully. "I miss... I miss how it felt when you touched me."
Hongjoong's expression softened, and he pulled his hand back, his thumb absently tracing circles on the tablecloth. "I miss that too," he admitted quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of longing and affection.
The honesty in his voice made your heart swell with warmth. "I didn't realize how much until tonight," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to ignore it, but... I can't."
There was a moment of silence between you, filled only with the soft hum of traffic outside. Hongjoong broke the quiet, his voice low and sincere. "I'm glad you told me," he said softly, reaching across the table again to take your hand in his. "Because I've been feeling the same way… I just didn’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything."
“I want you,” you admitted in a small voice. 
After your quiet admission, Hongjoong's eyes softened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly in reassurance. He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been wanting to hear you say that for so long," he confessed, his eyes searching for any hesitation.
After your quiet admission, a warm flush spread through you as Hongjoong’s gaze deepened with a mixture of affection and desire. His hand squeezed yours one last time before he let go, leaning back in his chair with a soft, contemplative smile. You were left stunned—how much more clear did you have to be for him to touch you again?
However, as the meal continued, the air between you was charged with a newfound intensity. You could barely focus on the food, each glance exchanged with Hongjoong sending a shiver down your spine. The unspoken tension only grew as the minutes passed, and it became clear that the two of you were in sync, your thoughts mirroring each other’s.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hongjoong put down his fork and began gathering the dishes. "I’ll take care of this," he said, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a smoldering undercurrent of emotion. He rose from the table, heading toward the kitchen with a stack of plates balanced effortlessly in his hands.
You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. Restlessness gnawed at you once more, and before you could overthink it, you found yourself rising from your seat, following him into the kitchen.
As you stepped through the doorway, you found Hongjoong standing at the sink, rinsing the dishes with deliberate care. The sound of running water filled the space, but it did little to drown out the thudding of your heart. You approached him quietly, the warmth of the dimly lit kitchen wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.
Without a word, you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. He froze for a moment, the dish in his hand forgotten as he registered your touch. Slowly, he turned off the faucet and set the dish aside, his body relaxing into your embrace.
"Couldn't stay away, huh?" he teased gently, his voice laced with affection as he turned to face you, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
You looked up at him, your arms still wrapped around his waist and shook your head. "Not for long," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips.
Hongjoong’s eyes darkened with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch firm yet tender. "You know, you’ve been driving me crazy all night," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.
Before you could respond, he dipped his head, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was a kiss that held all the unspoken longing, the unexpressed emotions that had been building between you throughout the evening. Your hands slid up his back, fingers tangling in his hair as you melted into him, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but the two of you.
Hongjoong deepened the kiss, his hands traveling from your face to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you was palpable, the kiss growing more urgent with every passing second.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. The cool surface of the counter was a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins, but it only heightened your awareness of every touch, every sensation.
Hongjoong’s hands roamed your body with a gentle urgency, one hand sliding up your back while the other cradled your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss even further. His lips were relentless, moving from your mouth to your jaw, down to the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You gasped softly, your fingers gripping his shirt as you arched into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against your skin.
"God, I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with desire as he continued to press kisses along your collarbone. "You have no idea."
You pulled his face back up to yours, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The tension that had been building between you all evening finally found its release, each kiss, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.
Hongjoong’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he explored your skin with a tenderness that only fueled your desire. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you clung to him, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.
But then, just as the kiss had deepened, Hongjoong suddenly slowed, his lips lingering on yours with a gentler, almost reverent touch. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours. The air between you was thick, both of you breathing heavily as you took in the weight of what was happening.
His thumb gently caressed your cheek, his eyes searching yours with a mix of longing and tenderness. "I don’t want to rush this," he murmured softly. "I want it to be perfect."
You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "Me too," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. There was a pause, a shared moment of understanding, where the intensity of the moment gave way to something deeper, something more meaningful.
Hongjoong’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "How about we go somewhere more private?" he suggested, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, the simple touch grounding you both in the gravity of the moment.
You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement wash over you. "Okay," you agreed quietly, your heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and eagerness. The urgency was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now it was tempered with the knowledge that this moment was about more than just passion—it was about connection.
You walked in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared confession hanging in the air like a promise. Reaching his bedroom, he opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, the familiar surroundings feeling suddenly new and charged with possibility. Hongjoong closed the door behind you, and you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a mix of uncertainty and desire.
He took a step closer, his hands gently cupping your face. "I want to make sure this is what you really want," he said softly, his gaze intense and sincere.
You nodded, your hands resting on his chest. "I've never been more sure," you replied, a teasing smile spreading on your lips. “Take me however you want, sir.”
With a newfound hunger, Hongjoong leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. It felt like he was pouring his energy into you, every touch feeling like an electric spark.
Hongjoong pulled back from the kiss, his breath warm against your lips. He searched your eyes, his expression earnest and caring. "Are you sure you’re okay with going further?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of desire and concern.
You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the anticipation building inside you. You nodded your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I trust you."
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. "Good," he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms to your waist, pulling you closer. "I promise I'll take care of you."
His lips captured yours again, this time with more urgency, his hands exploring your body. You melted into his embrace, the world outside disappearing as you focused entirely on the sensations he was awakening within you.
He gently pushed you onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he stood over you. "I want you to let go, to feel everything," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Can you do that for me?"
You nodded, your pulse quickening at the authority in his tone. "Yes," you breathed, your body aching for his touch.
Hongjoong's smile deepened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Good girl," he whispered, his words sending a jolt through you. He took his time undressing you, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Every touch, every kiss was deliberate, heightening your anticipation.
It was only when you stood completely naked in front of him that he allowed himself to let go of you. He looked you up and down, and you felt the sudden urge to cover yourself—but when your hands reached up to cover your chest, he immediately took your wrists to keep them away.
“I told you before,” he murmured, “you’re beautiful. Don’t hide from me.”
You let out a shaky breath. “What are you going to do with me?”
“You’ll find out.”
He left your side and walked over to one of the closets. Inside the closet were no clothes. The drawers were filled with different toys—some things that you had never seen before—from dildos to restraints. Your jaw practically fell to the floor, and you could hear Hongjoong try to stifle a laugh.
“Do you still want to go further?” he asked, although it was clear that he knew he didn’t have to.
You could only nod, your eyes wide with suspense. 
“Sweetheart,” he warned.
“Yes.”
At one single word, you ended up on the bed with a blindfold on and your hands tied up behind you. Your knees were resting on the unsteady, plush mattress, and you were trying your hardest to stay upright. Despite not being able to see him, you knew that Hongjoong was still dressed—and it made your skin burn.
"You're doing so well," he murmured against your ear, his voice laced with both command and praise. The words sent shivers down your spine. 
Something soft, barely noticeable, tickled your chest. You heard Hongjoong laugh as you tried to squirm away. “Remember, baby, you can’t fall over. You promised me you wouldn’t. Liars get punished, you know?”
Gritting your teeth, you unsuccessfully tried to suppress another whine. You buried your knees into the mattress while Hongjoong kept teasing you, with what you could only assume was some sort of feather. The feather’s touch went from your clavicle to your chest, down your stomach, and to your spread thighs. 
Just as you started getting used to the feather’s touch, it disappeared from your skin. The bed tipped to your right, and you had to use every fiber in your being to not fall over. Hongjoong’s chest pressed against your shoulder, you could feel the soft fabric of his shirt. The urge to wrap your arms around his strong shoulders was irresistible. But no matter how much you pulled on the fuzzy handcuffs, they wouldn’t budge.
“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered in your ear.
“What is it?” you murmured.
“Patience…”
He moved around, and you could feel him right in front of you now. Pressing a few soft kisses to your clavicle, Hongjoong took his time loving you. The sweet kisses turned hungry when he began sucking and grazing his teeth against your skin. You soughed, leaning your head back and to the side to allow him more access. His lips disappeared and the bed dipped slightly to the side. Hongjoong had reached for something that he had put beside the bed earlier, and you were eagerly awaiting your surprise.
A burning sensation, like stepping under the shower before the water has heated up fully, pressed against your chest—the small point encapsulated by Hongjoong’s pillowy lips. A gasp escaped your lips, and you struggled against the restraints by mere intuition. Despite telling you to keep yourself upright, Hongjoong put his hands on your back to keep you still. The ice cube in his mouth ran over your warm skin, and he hummed as you let out a shaky moan.
“Baby, please.” You squirmed.
Hongjoong replied by humming again, but the ice cube stopped gliding over your skin. One of his hands fell on your jaw, guiding you to his lips. The piece of ice, now barely a slither, melted between your tongues as you kissed—a sense of euphoria that you never thought you’d experience.
Hongjoong pulled away, and your lips tried to chase him but he was no longer in front of you. Before you could register that he had climbed off the bed, you had fallen against the soft mattress—your ass up in the air, and your hands struggling on your back. You heard Hongjoong tsk beside you, and a harsh slap landed on your ass. His warm palm rubbed soothing circles over the stinging skin, but the message was clear; you had messed up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Your apologies fell on deaf ears as another slap hit your still-sensitive skin.
Hongjoong’s other hand went to your back, holding you in place. “Count ‘em.”
Another slap rang through your ears, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “Sir, I’m sorry–”
“I said.” Hongjoong’s fingers threaded through your hair, bending your head up until you could feel him breathing by your ear. “Count them.” His hand left your hair and went back to rubbing the burning skin of your ass. 
After managing to count to ten, Hongjoong’s fingers went from stroking your ass to rubbing your aching pussy. A soft mewl left your lips and you couldn’t help but to wriggle your hips. Your brain was fried at this point, and Hongjoong could tell. His hand disappeared from where you needed it most, although you had no time to complain about it. The handcuffs came undone, and your arms fell to your sides. He flipped you on your back, your aching thighs resting heavenly against the soft, cool sheets. Hongjoong got on top of you, pressing a few uncharacteristically soft kisses on your jaw and neck.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured, barely audibly.
You could only nod your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck. After you pressed a kiss on his temple, Hongjoong pulled back with a lovesick grin. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated, and his hair a mess. He looked angelic.
“You can keep going,” you muttered. “I can take it.”
“Oh yeah?”
You used the little strength you had left to lean up and kiss his plump lips—soft and chaste, your lips just barely touching before you laid back down. “Yeah.”
His lips attached to your neck again with a new sense of passion and intensity. You let your eyes fall close as a hum bubbled up your throat, your hands spreading out on his back to keep him close. You gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, trying to pull it up.
“Off,” was all you managed to get out. Despite wanting to keep teasing you, Hongjoong didn’t have the strength to do so. His shirt went over his head and flew somewhere else in the room, just like your clothes had earlier. His pants followed shortly after, and soon enough you finally got to feel his naked flesh against yours. 
Hongjoong’s hips were moving agonizingly slow against yours, but you had no voice to complain about it with—his lips wouldn’t leave yours. When your hand tried to go down your body to rub your clit, his hand was quick to pin your wrist to the bed.
“Let me take my time,” he murmured against your lips.
“You’ve been teasing me for so long,” you muttered back.
“You want control, baby?” he asked mockingly. Before you could say anything else, you found yourself on top of him. “Ride me. Take control.”
As soon as you tried to move your hips up, you realized just how tired your thighs were. A broken whine escaped your lips as you tried your best to set a pace. Hongjoong’s hands landed on your hips. He must’ve taken pity on you, as his hands started guiding you to follow a steady pace.
“That’s it, baby,” he hummed. “You’re doing so good.”
Your mouth fell open as you managed to pick up the pace—your climax quickly approaching. Hongjoong’s hips started to move to match your pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your moans growing in volume. Endless praise echoed from his lips, but they just barely met your ears. Only when he told you to cum could you really hear him.
When your climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, powerful and unstoppable, crashing over you and stealing the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your body arching as the sensation consumed you. Hongjoong help you through it, his arms a secure anchor in the storm of your release. His own climax followed, his body shuddering against yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined in a pure, unfiltered intimacy that left you both breathless and sated.
-
You and Hongjoong lay entwined in bed, your breaths mingling in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. The tender patterns his fingers traced on your skin whispered promises of comfort, a soothing contrast to the fiery intensity you shared just moments before. The warmth of his body against yours wrapped you in a cocoon of safety, easing the lingering heat of your passion, yet beneath his gentle caresses, a flicker of concern danced in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a breath above the silence. "I didn't... go too far, did I?"
Turning to face him, you cupped his cheek, your hand cradling his face with a tender intimacy. His eyes searched yours, seeking any sign of unease or regret. "I'm more than okay," you whispered with a soft smile, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone.
Hongjoong exhaled, releasing a breath he'd unknowingly held, his gaze softening, though the shadow of worry still lingered. "I just... I worry a lot," he admitted, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips.
You shook your head gently, brushing your thumb across his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath, the softness of his touch. "I know, my love," you murmured. "I want you to feel just as safe and cherished with me."
His eyes closed briefly under your touch, relief washing over him in waves. When he opened them again, there was a new light, a quiet resolve in his gaze. "I do feel safe with you," he confessed, his voice steadier now, carrying the weight of sincerity.
Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you. "Good," you replied, intertwining your fingers with his, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse, a comforting reminder of your connection.
The air between you grew lighter, the weight of unspoken fears dissolving with each shared word. There was a clarity, a deep understanding that bound you both in that moment. Hongjoong took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of profound connection.
"I... I love you," he murmured, the words tinged with both hesitation and certainty, hanging in the air like a fragile confession.
Your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions. "I love you too," you replied softly, your voice a tender echo of his confession.
Hongjoong’s arms tightened around you, his body molding to yours as though it had always been meant to be this way. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing perfectly with yours, creating a harmonious symphony of togetherness. His hand stroked your back in slow, soothing circles, sending ripples of warmth through your soul.
The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, the bedside lamp casting delicate shadows that danced across the walls. The world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you in this intimate sanctuary. Hongjoong’s breath brushed against your forehead, his lips pressing a tender kiss there, sealing the moment with gentle affection. His fingers found yours, interlacing them with a loving squeeze. As you gazed into his eyes, you found them brimming with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. Without breaking the gaze, he brought your knuckles to his lips. In that moment, clarity washed over you both—this was where you belonged.
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letsgobarbs · 2 days ago
Text
The Plant Nanny
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Pairing: Javier Peña x Spouse GN!Reader (Modern AU so Javi can have a water tracking app on his phone)
Summary: Javier Peña reminisces about life after quitting the DEA during his struggles with his New Year's Resolution.
A/N: This was written for @beefrobeefcal's New Year, Same Peña January prompt. I wrote this on my laptop and still haven't figured out how to get the little accent on n, best believe I copy-pasted his name everywhere in this fic.
dividers by: @saradika-graphics
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Steve is dead. The fucking pendejo died. That little shit. Fuck this.
Javi bit the inside of his lip, there was a strain in his jaw. It shouldn’t affect him like this, he knew that. It was just a plant— and not a real one. Steve the Dandelion was just a virtual creepy little fucker staring up at him with googly eyes constantly whining about being thirsty and emotionally blackmailing him to drink water or he’d die. And now he was dead.
Javier glared down, his eyebrows furrowed, at the little plant with its eyes crossed— still dead. It just wasn’t fair; he had drank water last night, had logged it in to water the little shit too. He braved the cold, and the sleep, leaving the comforting embrace of his partner to go pee a billion fucking times in the night all for Steve, the motherfucking Dandelion, to die on him by morning. 
His sweetheart maintained a sizeable collection of real plants, naming them after their loved ones, believing they could absorb the negativity, misfortune or evil eye for their human namesakes. He looked at Javs, Javi, Javier, Peña and JaviLicious all thriving by the window sill. Their Steve was doing fine too. He disappointedly looked down at virtual Steve. Maybe he should call the real Steve, check in on him and his family, wish them a Happy New Year like the sap he was.
It really wasn’t a big deal. He could just pick another plant in the app, maybe a cactus or a devil’s ivy this time— try again. But something wasn’t settling inside him, there was an odd heaviness in his chest and he must have slept weird last night because there was an ache in his shoulder that was stretching to his neck. And his mouth felt dry even after all the water he had guzzled last night. Most importantly, he felt sad. He hated to disappoint. He had already disappointed so many people in the past— his parents, Lorraine, the women he slept with, his coworkers, and probably a few more people he didn’t even know. He didn’t want to disappoint the love of his life too. 
He had made a commitment to them. A New Year’s Resolution. Javier Peña had never made one of those in his life before. But the second-most embarrassing thing was tying up your spouse in festive red ribbons and rope, like your personal Christmas present, only to then promptly pass out on them, and take the Christmas tree— that they had spent all afternoon decorating together— down with him. The most embarrassing thing, however, had been waking up in the emergency room, with a panicked partner and a worried father by his bed, realising the candy cane flavoured condom was still on his dick and the mintiness of it was stinging him. It had also given him a UTI. 
The doctors had said it was because of dehydration; according to them, he was so dehydrated his body had stopped being able to read the signs and had become less sensitive to water intake. He called bullshit. He had lived years off of booze and cigarettes and he had done just fine. He was doing just fine. He even had excellent skin, as his sweetheart often points out, and dehydrated motherfuckers don’t have that. 
But the incident had scared them— probably because he didn’t wake up immediately. One night they had tearfully told him they wanted to spend a very long, healthy, happy life with him— Javi had giddily reminded them that they were married and that’s what marriage meant. But he had also promised to drink more water as a New Year’s Resolution. He had tried, truly, he had— even when he had to stop, in the middle of thrusting, during sex to go pee. He was mortified, but he kept his word to drink more water. 
“It’s dead, isn’t it.” Javi was startled by the interruption. His sweetheart was leaning against their bedroom entrance looking delightfully mussed in his worn, old green training t-shirt, sleep marks on the side of their face. He knew their skin would be warm and toasty from sleep; Javi wished they would hold him. 
“Yeah… the plant is dead.” And they did hold him, coming up behind him to drape themselves over his back, arms wrapped around him with gentle strokes and soothing pets that told him they knew he was upset about way more than just the plant.
“Hmm… You know they have those drops of life thing in the app that revives the plant?” They gently reminded him. But life didn’t give second chances— there were no drops of life for people who were harmed by his choices. Javi bent his head to ease the ache in his neck, and to also make space for their chin to rest on his shoulder. Instead, his sweetheart started massaging the area that twinged with pain. Always so perceptive.    
“That’s cheating, I’m not a quitter. Gonna do this thing right.” He tells them instead of admitting his thoughts. And Javier Peña wasn’t a quitter. He took quitting as a personal failure and it killed him to do so. It had taken him so long to quit the drug war and Mexico. Sometimes, he still burned with injustice that none of it had made any difference, that his actions had been futile, all those lives lost for nothing. It was the sort of rage and anger he hid behind a mask of apathy, insisting that he was done— that he was through.
But he hadn’t believed himself, and his father hadn’t believed him either. For months, he hadn’t been able to stay at the ranch, unable to stand the sight of those boats transporting drugs across his own backyard. And then he had only felt worse because he was letting his father down with more flighty attitude. 
He would escape to a bigger city under the guise of consulting gigs, interviews, and even for drug education and prevention programs when he was truly desperate— telling kids ‘Don’t do drugs!’ like they would actually listen. Often the words had echoed in his mind, ‘what else is a guy like you gonna do?’ Javier didn’t have an answer, he had never felt so purposeless. 
It was during one of these escapes, he met his cariño at a cafe. They sat at the table next to his, annotating the morning newspaper like they would annotate a book— a big bold ‘DICKHEAD’ over the president’s head with his eyes and mouth crossed out, a heart over some celebrities’ face, another ‘WTF?!?!?! BULLSHIT’ on the margins of some political op-ed. He failed to hold in a chuckle when they had disdainfully clicked their tongue which had caused them to look up at him. Just as he had been poised to apologise, they had abruptly turned to fish out an extra pen, waving it at him in offer along with sliding half of the newspaper closer to him.    
He turns to look at the side profile he had studied and admired for weeks rather than the newspapers— letting the tip of his nose trace their cheekbone up to their temple, smelling their scent mixed with their lotion, soap and shampoo from their shared bath last night. He watched their eyes flutter close, eyelashes gracefully fanning over dark circles that spoke of prolonged exhaustion; eyes still puffy from a lack of sleep. His heart tightened with gratitude and love, he had run his sweetheart ragged this holiday season. He pressed his lips to their skin when he felt his throat had closed around the words he wanted to say, conveying all the love and adoration he felt.  
Those mornings at the cafe had been the brightest part of his day until the shared breakfasts had turned into happy hour drinks and then comforting dinners. It was always easy for him to fall into bed with someone, but it had been so difficult to leave theirs. So Javi simply never left. Which didn’t mean he hadn’t been a colossal idiot at times. The very look in their eyes had terrified him, his sweetheart was not one to hide their feelings and theirs had been apparent very early on, even with him constantly pulling away and drawing boundaries. 
He was always so afraid he would never measure up to that look in their eyes, it filled him with endless anxiety. He had been so sure that they would realise he wasn’t worthy of the love that poured forth from those eyes— eventually, they would stop looking at him that way once they realised what a disappointment he was. He also didn’t believe he could love so openly and wholly. How wrong he had been. 
Javier had waited, and waited, and waited some more for them to finally demand more of him, or throw him out of their life for something better— someone more stable. But the demands and confrontation never came instead they trapped him in the limbo of his own making where they only gave him as much as he gave them. Their shared meals were lighthearted and playful but the conversations always impersonal. And even during the nights when their breaths mingled, hearts sang, and souls danced together, his sweetheart would avoid his eyes and his kisses. For the first time in his life, it wasn’t him out of bed first, refreshed and active, lighting a cigarette or pouring a drink after sex— it was them, getting some water, snacks or taking a shower. 
He hadn’t known what was missing until they had been too dazed from pleasure to avoid a kiss. And that kiss. It had changed him. It had been so tender and desperate, a tantalizing mix of long and slow explorations of each other with sweet and deep forays that had them both panting for air but unwilling to part. The kiss had been warm, passionate and possessive as if the floodgates they had barred closed were cracked open and an immense torrent of love, want and need had surrounded the both of them. It had shaken him and created a sense of awareness— Javier Peña had never been loved this way before. 
So it had been all the more shocking when they had ripped away from that kiss as if burned. His cariño had taken all that love and locked it up again in their eyes, they never allowed it to settle between them again. They had respected the boundaries he had set, and held him to his words as well. The loss had left him bereft— he yearned for what he had tasted only once. And Javier learned just what a greedy man he could be. He had craved more, more more. Everything they were willing to give him and then some. 
He listened to their quiet dulcet tone as they whispered to him about a plant they had lost in the app years ago after it had grown shoots and a smile, and how it had been the tiny thing that triggered a depressive episode. He realised it was an attempt to comfort him and his heart softened further. Javi gently caressed their chin before guiding their face to turn to him until their lips met his in a kiss— their lips always so soft and generous. He wished he could kick the old him for being so stupid for missing out on the chances to kiss the love of his life. He didn’t know why he had been so terrified and uneasy when loving them was so easy. 
He kissed his partner for the sake of kissing them, with relish and wild abandon— feeling the tender arch of their palate, the smooth gummy lining of their cheek, the rough patch on the middle of their tongue. As he sank deeper into their kiss, he allowed the claws of the past to loosen their grip on his mind.
When he had finally dislodged his head from his ass all those years ago and confessed to wanting more from their relationship, it was as if his sweetheart had bloomed in front of his eyes with a smile so full of fondness and affection it had taken his breath away. Their love had spurted vines that tenaciously climbed over his walls of self-loathing and doubt, tearing through the bricks he had laid. The process had been so slow he hadn’t even realised when he had started to breathe easier as the walls crumbled around him. 
Some of the rubble and ruins would still sting and prick under his feet— like today. But the wreckage of those walls had allowed for clear air that brought with it the realisation that Javier Peña was just a man. He hadn’t started the war on drugs, nor will it end with him. He had done what he had to do, and his choices, albeit questionable, were true to who he was. It wasn’t his fault he lived and laboured under a system that would have never allowed his efforts to come to any lasting fruition. He had unsuccessfully struggled for justice in a world devoid of it. And ultimately he had made the choice that was good for him.
The acceptance of his past and actions hadn’t been spoon-fed to him like his father and Steve had attempted, it was a realisation he had come to all on his own, which made it stick. He had personally closed the doors on the opportunity with the Houston DEA office with another on-record interview calling out their discriminatory practices in the name of narcotics control. Surprisingly, his vocal critique had paved the path for him to a new job with a local community-based harm reduction organisation. Connie had even helped him certify as a first responder. 
The irony was not lost on him, that despite all those years of his father’s talks, he had ended up just like the old man. Javier had stopped chasing storms; he had found his fulfilment in coming home to fix the fences every time a storm hit because… someone has to. The DEA was not done with him though, they would often pull him in for consultations— the payment was always a nice cushion for their growing family. 
He was miffed at losing his sweetheart’s attention to the dead virtual plant again, but he watched them revive the plant anyway. His inventory of free drops of life dwindling into nothing, giving away just how spectacularly he had failed at his New Year’s Resolution— he had already killed nine plants before Steve the Dandelion. A fact his cariño had also just realised judging by the admonishing glare. But the action still felt so… significant to him— it made his heart soar. That stupid plant wasn’t the only thing his sweetheart had revived. 
He pulled them off his back and around the couch, positioning them between his spread legs so he could nuzzle into the softness of their belly. Javier grazed his fingers up their thighs to lightly tease the hem of his old t-shirt. They had given him more love, affection and devotion than Javier knew existed— more than he knew what to do with other than trade it between them like two children exchanging their spoils in a collectable card game. 
He hadn’t yet figured out exactly what they saw in him, but he hoped they would see it forever. He would often catch them looking at him from the corner of his eyes, or in the reflection of a window. It would always be a look so full of love that a warm glow would ignite in his chest that spreads all the way to his fingers and toes. Even now, he could feel the warm flush rising up his exposed neck. 
“You know they say new habits are built by layering them on the old ones?” They said as their fingers played with the hair at his nape.
“Mhm, how’s that?” He asked as their fingers now played connect-the-dots with the freckles on his throat. It turns out his cariño was feeling frisky again. He cupped a palm-full of ass, playfully squeezing it to draw them closer to him.
“Well, you could take a drink of water before every meal, or after you brush your teeth, or… before every time you kiss me?” They teased. But he reared his head back. 
“Every time? Every time I kiss you? So, I would have to stop kissing you to go pee every time? What if we were making out? What about sex?” He sounded affronted even to his own ears. This was the worst idea. But they kept giggling away at his misery. 
“Alright, cariño, what is your going rate for a kiss?” He demanded.
“Let me think about it… what about a glass of water for a kiss? Two glasses of water for a full makeout sesh… and then a whole litre of water for sex.” They laid down the law. 
“No…” He was aghast, “Baby, if I drank a litre of water before sex then all you would hear is the water sloshing around in my stomach while we make love.” The words served their purpose as his sweetheart burst into peals of laughter. 
“Why don’t I get a discount today because I was sad?” His voice dropped an octave as he tried to seduce and cajole them back to their bedroom— his own eyes dripping with syrupy love to mirror his partner’s. This suited him, he thought. This life. This love. It all suited him. It was good for him and it made him flourish. 
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A/N: The Plant Nanny is an app I used several years ago to build a habit of drinking water. It gives you a tiny plant you can name, and every time you drink water you can water your plant as well. When you drink the water you are supposed to, the plant grows. If you don't drink water, it dies and you feel bad it died. But they give you like 10 drops of life to revive a dead plant. Poor Peña has used up all those drops lol.
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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 18 hours ago
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Requested by: @idkwthgoitmww <3 thanks, hun! Words: 2,451 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and injuries, references to assault and possible attempted sexual violence (did not occur, no description or details) Summary: Negan has to figure out why you've collapsed and try to patch you up. Concern and banter ensues... A/N: I intended this to be the final part, but now I think maybe we need a little more closure with these two? Hmm... should I do one more part? Let me know in the reblogs or comments!
Previous part here!
“Shit, shit, shit,” Negan growled through his teeth. “Alright. Okay…” He scooped you into his arms the rest of the way and laid you down on the couch as gently as he could. Clearly, more had happened out there than you had admitted to him. He clasped your face one more time in an attempt to rouse you. “Hey, doll? Wake up,” he urged. But not even an eyelid twitched. You were out cold. Negan straightened up and rubbed a hand over his face. Obviously, there was a reason you were passed out, so he needed to figure out what it was and fix it. A flash of terror seemed to seize his heart in a tight, icy grip. Hopefully, he could fix it.
His eyes went to your head, propped on the throw pillow at one end of the couch. Head injury? He knelt beside you and cupped your head in his hands gently, turning it slightly this way and that, feeling for any bumps or injuries. He felt and saw nothing besides the injury to your ear which he’d already noticed, and that certainly wasn’t enough to warrant you passing out. His hands and his eyes traveled down to your neck. He unwrapped your scarf and slipped it off. There was the mark he’d seen right away, which was quickly darkening toward a bruise. A bruise and a scratch? Someone had had you by the neck? Just the idea of it made a hot flame of anger flare upwards in his chest.
His fingers went to the buttons of your coat and he loosed them. The wool fabric fell open and he didn’t have to search for an explanation any longer. “Oh, shit,” he cursed. Your white sweater was completely stained crimson on your left side. The material was soaked with blood and it was running toward your back and starting to seep into your coat. “Fuck me,” Negan swore, climbing hurriedly to his feet. He rushed over to the shelves and grabbed a couple clean towels before returning to your side. He let out a shaky breath.
Negan peeled your shirt up, completely unsure of what he would find underneath. At first, he was met only with the sight of a gauze bandage taped to your skin, also completely saturated with your blood. But when he peeled that up, there was a rather significant round hole in your side, about halfway between the flare of your hip and your ribs. A gunshot wound. It looked like you’d tried to stitch it yourself, but the stitches were clumsy and ineffective, probably due at least in part to the fact that you wouldn’t have been able to see it well. “Jesus, doll,” Negan murmured. He gently rolled you slightly toward the back of the couch and tucked one of the towels underneath you. The other he pressed to the wound while he tried to think about what to do. He didn’t have a ton of first aid supplies on hand. His hazel eyes landed on your pack and he dragged it closer, keeping pressure on the wound with the other hand as best he could.
The first thing he pulled out from inside your bag was another bloodstained shirt. He held it up and could see the actual bullet hole through the fabric. He tossed it down. He dug inside again and finally his hands closed around a plastic bag full of first aid supplies. He let out a breath of relief and started setting them out on the little table next to him.
He looked at you lying prone on the couch and realized the bleeding might slow if he rolled you onto your side. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you fixed up,” he said softly. He stood and slipped his hands underneath you again and gently tipped you toward the back of the couch, adjusting the pillow beneath your head. It was just then, perhaps jostled awake, when you started to stir.
The first thing you really remembered was the sensation of cold air on your side and the residual cloud of pain which seemed to be pulsing through your entire torso. “Fuck,” you muttered, dragging your eyelids open.
“Doll?” Negan sounded relieved and you felt his hand press down hard on your side, adding pressure to some wad of something soft.
“Ow!” you hissed, trying to sit up and push him off you.
“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy! You’re bleeding a lot here. We’ve gotta get this stitched up again,” Negan said.
“I already stitched it,” you argued, not thinking entirely clearly at the moment.
“Yeah, and you did a piss poor job, which is why you’re currently lying in a pool of your own blood,” he retorted, not letting up on the pressure to the wound.
You craned your neck to look over at Negan and your side, your brows tense in a wince. Your sweater was soaked crimson and pushed up so Negan could hold a towel over the wound. Your skin was smeared and stained. You felt suddenly tired and laid back down, trying to catch your breath. “Fine… okay,” you sighed. “Do whatever you need to.”
Negan let out a noise that was part laugh and part scoff. “I was planning on it. Hey—is the bullet still in there?”
You nodded, closing your eyes against another wave of pain. “Yeah…”
“Uh, shouldn’t we try to get that out? You could get an infection.”
You laughed grimly. “I was going to leave it in because going on a fishing expedition inside my body with dirty hands while I was laying in the woods didn’t seem like a good idea. Not to mention the fact that I can’t really see it. But please, by all means…”
Negan cleared his throat. “Alright. Hey—hold the towel on here a minute.” You placed your hand over his, sharply aware of even the glancing contact before he slipped away. You stared at the back of the worn couch, focusing on the little squares of woven stitches. You could hear him opening and closing cabinets in the next room.
“Take your time,” you said loudly. “Not like I’m slowly bleeding out over here...”
Negan came back in with a large glass bottle in his hand. Vodka.
You stared at him. “I’m more of a whiskey girl, myself,” you said dryly.
He let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. You were still cracking jokes with a bullet in your side. “Of course you are, doll. I’d have guessed that. But this is all I’ve got.” You finally noticed the long silver instrument in his other hand and any jest you had left in you slipped away. You gulped at the sight of the cold metal of the long tweezers.
“You better hand me that bottle,” you said.
“It’s for disinfect—”
“I don’t give a shit. I need a drink if you’re going to dig that thing into me,” you breathed.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The sound of your own breathing came first, steady but louder than normal, and then there was the comforting sound of a crackling fire in the background. Your eyes were a bit bleary as you opened them but cleared as you blinked a few times. Your side felt as if it was on fire.
You shifted on the couch and Negan straightened up in his chair, the grim expression on his face melting away. “Thank fuck you’re awake,” he said, leaning forward to study your face. “How ya feelin’?”
“Uhh—I think a little drunk actually,” you said, sitting up and putting a hand to your head. The room wobbled a little.
“I’m not surprised. You may have overdone it on the liquid courage. I barely had enough to do the job,” Negan said.
You pressed a hand over your side and could feel that he’d secured a bandage and gauze over the wound. The bandage wrapped all the way around you. “I passed out again?”
Negan nodded and then grabbed a little saucer off the table and held it out so you could see what was on it. “Fucker was in there pretty deep,” he said. The bullet made a sharp noise as it rolled on the ceramic. It was stained with a rusty coating of dried blood.
You nodded. “Right. Well, you got it. Don’t throw that out. I want it,” you said with a half-smile. “I’ll make a necklace or something with it.” Negan didn’t look amused. “It stitched up okay?”
Negan nodded again, discarding the plate on the table again and giving you a long, serious look. “Yeah, it was easy since I could actually see it.” He sighed as you avoided his hazel eyes. “Your ear. That’s a bullet graze.” It wasn’t a question.
You fiddled with the edge of blanket he’d tucked over you, but said nothing. Negan sighed heavily again and you were surprised to see him anxiously running both his hands over his face. You thought they looked a little shaky even. “I’m fine,” you said.
“Somebody almost blew your head off on the way here, but you’re fine?” he said. His voice was deep and gruff, and you could hear anger in it. Not at you, but at what had happened. It surprised you how much feeling was in his voice. “Tell me.”
You gulped and shrugged. “I—ran into some men on the way here. First, they demanded my gear but—that—wasn’t enough,” you said. You avoided his eyes again. “I don’t think they even wanted the gear...” you trailed off. There was a tense silence for a long moment before you hazarded a glance up at Negan and there was a shadow on his face and a violent rage behind his eyes. “They underestimated me. I fought them off but—the last guy had a gun I didn’t know about... But—I took care of it. I’m fine,” you said again, repeating it in the same tone you had every single time you’d already said it. Were you trying to convince yourself or him?
Negan leaned forward, his gaze still intense. “You were attacked by a group of men on the way here, shot in the side, and almost shot in the head which you barely survived, and you’re ‘fine’,” he said. His expression softened as he looked at you, the anger replaced with some mixture of worry and sorrow and regret. “Doll—”
You let out a humorless laugh. “I have to be fine! So, I am!” you said, perhaps a little more loudly than you needed to. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been in almost the exact same situation since the world went to shit? Be glad you were born a man.”
His eyes flickered over your face, the worry on your behalf still pronounced. “Coming to see me would be a pretty fuckin’ stupid reason to die,” he said.
“I didn’t die, did I? I’m fine.”
He looked hesitant. “None of them got away? Because if they did, I will go out there right now and put them down myself. Just say the word.”
You shook your head. “None of them are left. I took care of it.”
His eyes flickered between yours and the feeling between you was intense and charged. His jaw tightened and he straightened up again in his seat. “For fuck’s sake, why the hell didn’t you just tell me what happened when you got here?”
You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. Then, you finally said, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
Negan gave you a look. “You were shot. You almost died. It is a big fuckin’ deal. Besides, how’d that work out for you, hmm? Not making a big deal out of it? You passed out right in front of me and were suddenly soaked in blood.”
“I thought I’d taken care of it myself. I didn’t think—”
Negan crossed his arms, surveying you from his place at the table. “No, you just never want to have to rely on anyone else. Because you think that makes you vulnerable.”
You looked at him with a struck look of surprise and he knew he’d hit the mark. “What, were you a shrink in your last life?”
“No. A gym teacher,” he said with a small laugh.
You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you just after his. “Wow. Really? Sexy,” you said sarcastically.
His lips curved in a small smile. He was relieved you were cracking jokes again. Some of the tension in the air seemed to evaporate. “I’m glad you think so. You’re stuck here now for a few days, so get comfortable, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you, of all people, boss me around—”
Negan smiled more broadly. “I love when you try to argue with me. It’s good. I need a firm fucking hand. Speaking of jobs requiring a firm hand—”
“Negan—” you warned him, your tone dangerous.
“—I better go cut some more firewood before we run out,” he finished with a grin. You felt your cheeks flushing. “Jesus, where was your dirty little mind at?” he asked, climbing to his feet. “You relax and drink some water. I’ll be back in a few.”
You stared at his tall frame as he pulled his coat on and opened the door to step outside. “You said it that way on purpose!” you yelled after him.
He glanced back at you over his shoulder from the doorway with that same shit-eating grin. “What? I don’t get what you’re driving at. Maybe you could explain it to me?”
You flicked him off and shot him a glare. Negan only laughed. “Listen, don’t get your hopes up. You’ve got some healing up to do before we can—”
“Negan—” you growled.
“—walk back to Alexandria together. For fuck’s sake, what did you think I was about to say?” You gave him an unamused look and he laughed again. The sound warmed you. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it from here. Just rest. You’ll be back kicking ass before you know it. And in the meantime, I am fuckin’ thrilled to have your company.”
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ofdarknesseyes · 13 minutes ago
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Yeah he didn’t know Megumi not completely. Sure he can still get a read on him like when he was little, that could just be fatherly instincts that never actually go away no matter how hard he tries. But he isn’t naive, it has been years since he spent any time with his son. He wasn’t the one to raise Megumi. Megumi wasn’t like him, he gave a shit about others. He isn’t sure if that is a good thing or not. On one hand, yeah great, his son wasn’t a piece of shit like him. On the other, it only meant it was more likely for Megumi to get hurt. Both mentally and physically or worse…
He leans against the door frame waiting for Megumi to be ready. Sighing at his words. He gets it. Gojo was much more his father than he ever would be. He doesn’t blame Megumi for caring about the man that was there for him. Who actually raised him, trained him, provided for him, and protected him. As much as he didn’t want to care it did make him feel something. Remorseful? Regretful? Almost as if he wished he stuck around. No use thinking like that though.
“I get it. I owe that brat too anyways.” He grumbles the last part to himself looking almost annoyed. Cursing under his breath even.
Megumi’s next words, his concern for him, shock him to the core. He shouldn’t be shocked, not really, not with the way Megumi has clearly shown to care for others, but still, it shocks him and makes him feel other things he isn’t used to. Those feelings are drowned out by the guilt that he doesn’t deserve anything from Megumi, not even his pity. Also, the way Megumi says his name… He doesn’t expect to be called dad or father or anything like that but even just hearing Megumi say his name did something to him… He buries that feeling deep inside for now.
His eyes are wide only for the briefest of moments before he chuckles softly and shakes his head. He ruffles Megumi’s hair before his hand caresses his face gently, lowering his voice slightly.
“I am supposed to be dead anyways, kid. Don’t sweat it. I’ll be fine.”
His green eyes set on Megumi his expression almost saying: You won’t lose me. Even though he can’t make any promises.
Toji reassures him anyway. And what was he supposed to do just let Megumi waltz out there on his own? He almost groans at himself when he realizes that his feelings and his actions are becoming very father-like. It was too damn late to be a dad he tries to tell himself. Whatever, he always did whatever he wanted didn’t he? The least Toji could do was admit to himself he wanted to do this. He wanted to be by Megumi’s side for as long as he could this time. Fuck it! He had nothing more to lose now. Everyone thought he was dead and if trouble does come for him he will ditch Megumi before it gets too dangerous.
For now, it seems like Megumi was the one in deep shit with all that is going on. He owes him after not killing him like he should have and he owes him after the beating he gave him. However, it makes him realize this kid of his still needs more training. What the hell has Gojo been teaching him anyway? More like codling him probably…
“If we are gonna get going let's go then. I want food on the way though.”
Toji almost demands as if he were the child here and is being dragged along on a trip with his dad.
Megumi knew very little about his dad as if that much wasn't obvious already. The pull he felt was a connection since birth and a wanting, but that didn't mean he KNEW his father. The man could have been an animal abuser and a wanted criminal. Would Megumi's issues and love erase all of that? Toji took revenge for the murder of his mother, but was he the kind of man who fought and stood up for what was right? Megumi was. Part of him felt he had to, another part of him, a greater part of him, believed that was what his life was meant for.
Toji wasn't a sorcerer though. Likely he wasn't raised with those convictions, but he was making a lot of assumptions. All he had was assumptions and a creative mind. Thankfully his father wasn't just sitting by even though he certainly seemed to favor it. Once his father began changing out of his clothes, Megumi looked away and then waited before he's standing right in front of the man. Megumi had to tilt his head back to match those green eyes. So very much the same as they were different. Toji's eyes looked almost haunted.
“ I know I don't, but I still have to for me and for... ”
The man who replaced you. it went unsaid. Megumi's green eyes flickered with sadness, then determination.
“ This is what I've been training for most of my life. I'm willing to sacrifice myself if I have to but I don't want to lose... you. ”
Feeling vulnerable the boy dropped his head until his spiky hairs masked his eyes.
“ I know you're strong but I don't want to drag you into this and get you killed... Toji. ”
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pompadorbz · 1 day ago
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Just a Little Longer
Not posting this to ao3 or anything since this fic is so itty bitty pocket sized and I don't have the energy rn. might do all that later but for now its NBD. This is just a short and kinda messy thing about TR!Phil post losing his wings after having them for 5 minutes. lol. Enjoy or dont
“...There has to be some reason.” Phil wonders aloud as he props a large log onto a stone wet from the fresh rain, readying Woodsbane on its surface in preparation to swing. With the amount of trees he chopped, it became inevitable that he’d eventually have to organize the mess. Treecapitator was nice, but it could only do so much in the way of organization.
Sneeg hums as he sits off to the side, handing off the occasional item for Crinkle to munch on– from his own inventory this time, Phil hoped. “Them having someone go rogue is pretty possible, I mean– I’ve seen it before, y’know?” Phil then adds. “There’s always some bigger force, and– and then there’s someone who wants to go against that force by getting help from outside, but…” Phil cuts himself off as he raises the axe high above his head and throws it down onto the log, splitting it cleanly in two. He immediately reaches for another log, swiping the other pieces away as if they weighed nothing and putting the new log in their place. If there was one thing he’d become from woodcutting, it was fast. Being maxed out and all– fast was the one thing he had left to be.
“...What if it wasn’t?? What if… They really only wanted you and Foolish to have them? And– And if not for an Elytra, then for what? Why wouldn’t they take it away the second you made it?” Sneeg simply shrugs. “I dunno. It doesn’t make a lotta sense to me either.” Phil sighs, zoning in on the log as he chops it cleanly once more, and then he chops another. And another. And another again. 
…What had the keepers of the realm meant when they said it “wasn’t time”?
He wondered if it was something to do with the factions like Sneeg had suggested earlier; Both him and Foolish were a part of the Kingdom, after all… Maybe that was it...? 
Or perhaps, it was due to Phil not being in a faction altogether..?
Placing another log on the stone, his eyes glance over to Sneeg. “...The fuck do you have that I don’t, mate?” He asks. He means it as a joke– he thinks that he means it as a joke. But Sneeg stands with a huff. “Look, Phil. I don’t know why this shit happened. We’re all kinda in the same boat right now.” He says defensively. “You’re gonna get your elytra eventually– this shit wasn’t fair. It’s just…”
He stares off into the distance. Something else was clearly on his mind, but Phil either didn’t particularly care right now. “...You’re just gonna have to wait a little longer, I guess.”
Phil’s grip on Woodsbane’s handle tightens despite the rain. He stares down to the last log he struck before silently flipping one of the halves on its flat end, kicking the other to the wayside. Sneeg sighs. “...I’ll leave you be for now. I gotta explain what happened to Foolish anyways, so… I dunno. Maybe he’ll have an idea of what happened.” Likely not; Phil wanted to say, but he kept silent.
Sneeg silently walks off– the only noise coming from his boots as they squelch in the wet mycelium, and his trident when he takes off into the now stormy sky. He didn’t have to look at Sneeg to know the look he was probably giving him as he left. Across what felt like a thousand different timelines, he’d seen it before about a million times over.
The apologies for his sake, the endless droves of sympathy. The sad look in people’s eyes when they said: “Oh well! There’s nothing to be done about that!”
Pity.
Every time without fail, it bore into Phil’s soul. It dug around deep in his chest until he was all but crying out in anguish, begging for it to cease, and he hated it. He hated it so, so very much.
Phil raised Woodsbane high above his head, straining as if the blade itself had hitched the loop of a halo that wasn’t there. “An angel lost his wings today.”
But they’d been lost for a long time now, hadn’t they?
“It is not yet time.”
And when would it be time?
“You’re just gonna have to wait a little longer.”
Phil’s breath hitches as he stares down at the halved log; not quite registering how his arms shook from both strain and rage as he held the axe in a crushing grip. He gritted his teeth together until his head began to pound–
–and to nobody in particular, he screamed as he swung the axe down onto the log with remarkable speed. “HOW MUCH LONGER?!” He asks, raising the axe again and barrelling down on the log once more. “HOW MUCH LONGER DO I HAVE TO WAIT?!”
And then repeatedly, Woodsbane fell upon the same log, each cut sloppier than the last as Phil hollered obscenities at the top of his lungs until his throat went hoarse. His blinding rage fizzled out into pathetic cries as he swung tiredly at nothing in particular; the log now too scattered and in pieces by then to even be truly called a log.
The cries turn hushed as he coughs and unceremoniously drops Woodsbane to the ground as he too, falls to his knees.
“...How much longer?” He rhetorically asks again, now tired and muffled as he stares to the ground, uncaring of the rain as it soaks into his clothing and frazzled hair. He thinks about what Pili had said earlier once more. Perhaps he was truly serious when he said it, but…
…An angel without wings.
It was a joke so ironic that Phil could almost laugh.  
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cokoweee · 2 days ago
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So… I always thought the first kiss would get me all giddy. Instead, I am heartbroken. I will elucidate (I don’t have enough spoons to get screenshots, so words will have to do.) I think Kendra was terrified out of her mind. She had to compartmentalize so much lately. I think what happened was, initially Big Mama gave her the deal over the phone in the bathroom, and then right before meeting Donnie in the gala gear was when she had the “eldritch horror” reminder. Thing is, Kendra has apparently been making some mental health positives since reforming, but when she is getting too stressed, she goes back to her vices. She started smoking again after getting stabbed by Bishop. And so here, in the Hidden City, being told to romance a guy, she isn’t even sure likes her back? (The ghosts said he “cared” but what if they mean like Casey and Draxum?) Time for some liquid courage and a LOT of it! Kendra is getting drunk off her rocker, because she knows she has to make a move before the end of the party. But it’s not fair to her, and honestly, it’s not fair to Donnie either. She would have liked to see their relationship develop naturally and if kisses come, then kisses come. But here, she has to drink, enough to get her inhibitions lowered, enough where she is fine forcing a kiss on one of the only supports she has left in the world. And here, Mr. Cirrhosis, himself is not only sober, but batting away her future drinks. She’ll never get shit faced drunk at this pace. Finally, she notices Donnie is getting in her space, trying to get her to leave. But she can’t leave! Who knows if this crazy spider lady is going to go after them?! She already has one psycho on her trail and he’s human (?). So Donnie is giving her grief, she notices him holding onto her shoulders. His outrageous height isn’t quite an obstacle now. He’s close enough to.. Yea, fuck it, guess we gotta go in! And… smooch And I’m just like… I feel so bad! I’m holding these two in my hands going “I’m so sorry! You two need a do-over on that kiss!” And what probably sucks is Donnie gonna chalk it up to her being drunk, and Kendra might think Donnie is gonna kick her out (or get distant again) Also I see you finally had her call him by his given name! just *keyboard smash*
Kiku back at it again with being 80% spot on. You lil pickle you are
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You made me remember why I had Frida say her super edgy cringe ass line lol. It relates to this ahahah
My liking to Kendra is showing to much. I’m putting her through the blender. WHO KNOWS WHATLL HAPPEN THO HUH? WACKY KISS AFTERALL AAAHUU. Maybe they’ll get a redo maybe they won’t. (Acting like I didn’t already show them in the future with literal kids)
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howlsofbloodhounds · 17 hours ago
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ok hello, i was just wondering your opinion about some stuff, since you are the all wise chroma crew expert. (some are colorkiller since they are my favourite beans)
color's sweaters are stained with killers eye goopy stuff (determination??????)
killer does a lot of cat-like things, like mashing his head into people he likes
anyway i forgot the rest haha
I remember hearing a hc around like a year ago that Color would carry around stuff to clean up Killer’s face and eyes, make it easier for him.
But knowing Mr-Dirt-Freak over here, if he didn’t have any wipes on him (ran out, forgot, what have you), he’d definitely be willing to dirty his clothes if Killer’s leaking eyes are bothering or hindering him more than normal.
Color’s the type of guy who doesn’t give a shit if his friends are in the worse physical state possible in terms of cleanliness—dirt, blood, sweat, vomit, what have you—so long as touching or hugging them won’t hurt them and they want a hug, then he’s gladly doing it. I don’t know, i just think this guy can see beauty in just about everything and everyone—you’ll never hear him calling something or someone “ugly” in terms of appearance.
(The only exception was probably his own body/appearance, which im sure a part of him found horrendous and disgusting, but over time he gradually started realizing that, hey, there’s others in this skull and this body.
It may not be theirs, but they see it when they look through his eye, too. They’re listening, they’re watching. It’s wrong to talk or think about people that way, especially when they have no control over it.)
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a-chronic-overthinker · 3 days ago
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Abstragedy Week Day 3 - Hurt/comfort
Knock-knock-knock.
Zooble knocked on Gangle’s door for probably the tenth day in a row, awaiting a response. They had been visiting her every day since they got back from the Spudsy’s adventure. Gangle had seemed sadder and more quiet since then -if that was even possible- and Zooble wanted to be sure they were okay. Besides, they always enjoyed Gangle’s company. And she had opened the door and welcomed them in every day (except today, apparently.) Just as Zooble turned away and was about to walk back to their room - they must have all gone on one of Caine’s adventures again, they thought - the door creaked open and Gangle’s mournful face offered Zooble a smile once again. They sat together in the vermillion room, decorated with red silk bows and littered with sketchbook paper and pencils. “Zooble?” she squeaked, anxiety in her voice. “Can I talk to you about something?” Zooble nodded, their eyes suddenly filled with concern. “Yeah? Was it Jax again?” "No, he’s not the problem. I am." she said, big tears surfacing from her voidlike eyes. "I really appreciate it. But you don't need to do this for me. I don't want you to feel bad for me, if you think I'm annoying you can say so and I'll leave you alone."
"What?" Zooble could have laughed at the idea of finding Gangle, practically the only good thing they had in the Circus, annoying. But they could barely put words together, her statement not fully registering. "Why... why would you think... who told you that?"
"Remember the fast food adventure? That's what Jax told me. And Ragatha too... I don't think she would have said it out loud, but she had some of that sauce? I don't know, I guess it made her more honest...." Gangle trailed off. "I just... I don't really know anymore."
"Gangle..." Zooble had so much they wanted to tell her, they wanted to stay with her as she cried, and fall asleep, safe in each others' arms... but everything was coming too fast again and all they could say was, "Why would I think that?"
Gangle blinked, wiping away a tear only for a new one to appear in its place. “W-what?”
“I mean,” Zooble said slowly, searching for the right words, “you’re the only person in this whole damn circus that I care about. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. I-” They were interrupted by the firm grasp of Gangle’s arms around their shoulders. “Thank you.” Gangle whispered. And Zooble wordlessly returned the hug. After they pulled away from each other, they just sat there, leaning against Gangle’s four poster bed. It wasn’t awkward really, they could just stay for as long as they wanted, being in each other’s presence. “I mean,” Zooble mused, “what reason would I have not to be honest with you? If I didn’t want to come over, I wouldn’t have. I do that all the time with Caine anyway…” and they suddenly became aware of what they were saying - oh shit why did I say that she probably doesn’t want to talk about it anymore we were doing fine and of course I had to go ruin it what the fuck is wrong with me -
But then Gangle cracked a smile. And she started to giggle. Which made Zooble smile too, and before they knew it they were both laughing together, gasping for breath, not even knowing why. It had been so long since Zooble had heard that sound out of their own mouth, and when they had both calmed down, they looked lovingly at each other.
Like they were the only people in the world.
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rosyhoneydew · 2 days ago
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Ahem…. I am (not entirely) sorry for what I am about to do. But amnesia fics are my most absolute weakness… 🥹
🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥 (12)
Buuuuut also 👀 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 (8)
🤗🫶🤗🫶🤗🫶
hehehe thank you becca!!! I hope you like these snippets!! 🫶🫶
Bucktommy Amnesia Fic (🏥):
Evan is back. He curls his hand meekly around the door to Tommy’s room. “Hey,” he says. Tommy raises his eyebrows in lieu of a response. “I just talked with your doctor, he said you’re about to get outta here?” Evan walks all the way inside then, leaning against the far wall like he’s trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Sounds like it.” “That’s great, Tommy.” He smiles a little, so tight it pulls taut across his face. “Umm,” he starts again, “you should probably know then that we- we live together.” Tommy’s head whips back to look at Evan. “You serious?” “Yeah. For 5 months now. I’m looking for a new place,” he says quickly. “It’s just taking me a little while.” He rubs at his neck sheepishly. “We hardly saw each other anyway, with our jobs, you know? And you have the guest room so…” Tommy’s brain feels more scrambled than it did yesterday. He doesn’t want this guy hanging around his house. He doesn’t know this guy. Except, he does. He knows him well enough to take him out for dinner, to fuck him, to ask him to move in, to make him his emergency contact. “I know it’s a little weird,” Evan says. “I can see if my sister’s couch is free if-” “It’s fine,” Tommy interrupts. “I’m supposed to make my life as normal as possible right? This is normal for me now, I guess.” Evan nods, eyes wide.
Tommy Free Use Fic (💥):
It was close to 9 by the time Evan walked through the door, and Tommy felt his heart jump into his throat. Talking probably was the better option. He couldn’t be sure Evan even felt the same about last night and here he was hoping he could simply bend over the counter and offer himself up. Evan was probably tired. Maybe he never wanted to do that again. Shit, Tommy had let himself get really carried away here. “Hey,” Evan said as he shut the door behind him. “Hi, sweetheart,” Tommy responded, accepting a quick peck. Evan hummed. “Smells good in here.” He placed another quick kiss on Tommy’s lips and moved to pull away when Tommy’s hands tightened their hold on Evan’s arms. He didn’t quite mean to do it, but he’d been thrumming with need all day. Not just arousal, though he felt like he could get hard just from the sight of Evan tonight, but something deeper. A need for connection or closeness. A need to be needed, to be filled. The thought that he might have to let go of Evan, even just while they ate, sent an unpleasant roll through his stomach. “You okay?” Evan asked with genuine concern on his face. Tommy nodded quickly, opening his mouth to speak before snapping it closed and pulling Evan to him tightly. Evan takes in a quick breath, arms grabbing onto Tommy’s back. “What is it, Tommy?” Maybe if Tommy had spent the day clearing his head he’d have words to use, but as it is, he squeezes Evan closer, fitting his still soft cock into the lower part of Evan’s belly, and rubs himself there. “Oh,” Evan breathes out. “You wanna fuck me, baby?” Tommy shakes his head. No. “No?” Evan asks. “What do you want? Want me to fuck you? Open you up nice and sweet? Hmm?” Tommy pulls away then, keeping his eyes low and turning around to pull his jeans down, hold himself open and show Evan. Look, he wants to say. Look at what I did, for you.
Make Me Write
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scoops-aboy86 · 2 hours ago
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wc: 647 | Rating: T | CW: mentions of infidelity, technically hurt no comfort because I haven’t written the part where they make up | Additional Tags: future fic, famous Eddie Munson, past Steddie
Okay, look. The tv was on in the background, and Ross and Rachel were breaking up, and this happened in my head. I’m posting it for Fuck It Friday because fuck it. The only thing getting me through life right now is cough drops.
Hell of a Time at the Wake
“Yeah, haven’t had a drink or touched any drugs in five years, as of last month.”
“Oh wow, so that’s from before Corroded Coffin made it big.” The interviewer chuckles. “Usually it’s the fame and rehab that come first.”
“I prefer to think of myself more as regionally notorious, but sure. Never did the rehab thing, though.”
“Well, what’s the story there?”
Behind their frontman, the rest of the band shares a look. “Oh, we don't need to—” 
“Nah, Jeff, it’s okay man.” Eddie waves them off, then turns back to the interviewer. “Back before we hit the road to make a name for ourselves, I was seeing someone back home. I mean, the someone. The one. But we kept having this same… not really a fight, just this thing: I wanted to leave town, they didn’t. And then finally we had this huge blowout about it that started as something else and somehow turned into that again, which turned into both of us storming off. They went home, and I went out and got completely shitfaced, and in the morning I woke up with someone whose name I didn’t even know in bed with me.”
The interviewer winces. 
“Yeah. And when you do something shitty like that, it’s going to come out sooner or later. Or pretty much immediately, in this case, which.” Eddie grimaces and shrugs. “Well, it gave us something else to fight about, that’s for sure. I knew I’d fucked up bad, but it took hours of back and forth before I realized that we were done done. Trust completely obliterated, no way to come back or move on from that, just… over.”
There’s a pause where he stares off into space for a moment, stuck on a memory. Then he shakes himself and refocuses. 
“Anyway, at some point during my doomed attempt to salvage things, I swore I’d never have another drink ever again. Which, the being drunk of it all wasn’t really the problem, so saying that didn’t buy me anything, but… even after it ended, I didn’t. I’d been so fucked up that night, and it wasn’t the booze so much as the fear of it being over that made me a one man self-fulfilling prophecy—but I hurt someone I loved more than anything, and I never wanted let myself get that fucking stupid again, so. I haven’t. And honestly, I sleep better knowing that.”
“Wow.” The interviewer is staring at him, stunned. Probably doesn’t get a lot of this sort of thing, not just because of all the wild rockstars and other celebrities that come on the show with stories about trashed hotel rooms and wild parties, but because Eddie is being honest. 
It’s not something he talks about… ever, really. Not even with the guys. But, after five years, it doesn’t hurt the same. It’s not even for St—
It’s not for his ex anymore, if it ever was. 
“Why would it be weird?” Gareth is saying. “We have a built in DD, that’s always great. And Eddie doesn’t give us shit for anything, he’s just honest when we ask if anything was too out of hand. It’s a good reality check.”
“And like,” Doug adds, “he’ll still come out with us to clubs and shit to hang out. But if he says he doesn’t want to drive us to a bar it’s not some passive aggressive or superiority thing because we drink and he doesn’t; he’d really just rather fuck off and do something else.”
“Gee, thanks,” Eddie says dryly, but he’s smirking. 
Doug flashes him finger guns, the fucking dork. “You’re welcome, asshole.”
And the interview moves on. These guys have been Eddie’s friends even longer than they’ve been his bandmates, and the four of them are solid. If the gossip vultures out there want something to pick at, they’ll have to find a different target. 
Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed):
@hotluncheddie @hiei-harringtonmunson @sofadofax @hickeysgodcomplex @oatmilk-vampire
@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair
And then someone shows Steve the interview and he asks Robin for Eddie’s number, and they talk for the first time in years and end up falling back in love, but that’s the hard to write part so this is what you get. Xoxo
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icarianncarrionn · 2 days ago
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“No.” Tisha shakes her head. There’s something much softer about her expression now, something that’s smoothed out the lines around her mouth and made fresh ones along her brow. “You didn’t. I did, though.“ she cracks open the door. "Hari, come over here. I can't keep stubbing my smoke out." Her brother comes to the door, slipping out and closing it behind him, and Tisha offers him her pack. They have a silent conversation: he frowns, she shakes the cigarettes, he cocks an eyebrow, she tilts her head forward, and finally he takes one and lets her light it.
“Rafa’s been taking heat for me all night, and I don’t love how this shook out, but I can’t just let that sit.”
“Tisha, it’s fine-”
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“It’s not, actually. Because even if you guys decide you’re cool, I don’t want you to be cool with something that isn’t even true. There’s a lot of things I haven’t told you, and I will, but we need a lot more time than we have. I have a lot of shit going on, Hari. That’s why we went on that trip. I haven’t been doing well, and Rafa knew that. I didn’t just run off after him, he took me to make me happy. So we could have some time together. And he did make me happy, and… did a ton of other shit I can’t even tell you about yet because there’s too much background, but it was really impressive. And any barrier to… what did you say? Having a future?”
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“Something like that.” Hari nods.
“That’s actually me, and my shit. Not him, or his age, and definitely not his kids, who I absolutely love, for the record. They're amazing. And he wouldn’t admit it, I don’t even know if he believes it, but I am… a hundred times safer in his world than he is in mine. He is… he’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Hari. My best friend. I’ve never been more inspired, or happy, or excited about the future, or terrified of how important someone is to me. Okay? So… just, you needed to know that.”
Hari taps the end of his cigarette with his thumb to knock off some of the ash, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I probably did. Some more things to add to the apology." He jokes, voice soft. "I haven't had enough liquor to smoke this, Tisha."
"It's the principle." Tisha shrugs. “Sorry for fucking up your smoke break again, Nick.”
Nick shakes his head slowly, the slight frown yielding a smile. "You don't have to tell me, because I know. You show me every day." He takes a deep breath, trying to replay the scene in his head. It doesn't make sense and yet it does. A little uncomfortably so, but eventually he chuckles, if purely to express his disbelief, not because the two people he loved acting like assholes was suddenly funny to him.
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"I'm pretty sure Rafa didn't want you to defend yourself either." He quickly raises his hand as to stop Hari from adding his tuppence, because one thing Nick needs to make clear: "It wasn't fair. He has no right to test you. And while I think it's..." he swallows any and all negative adjectives that come to mind and just shakes his head for a place holder instead, "It probably made sense in Rafa's weird brain and he didn't mean ill, even if he was being exceptionally... provocative..." The last word is almost whispered. Realisation hits and Nick bites his lower lip, frown back in place. "I know you wanted to leave and I'm not going to stop you, if you still want to. But if you're still here when I get back, that'd be nice. I just need to...", he picks up his half-smoked rollie and wiggles it about, before he gets up and places a brief kiss on Hari's hair.
Outside, Rafael's fingernails dig into his palm but he keeps himself firmly locked in place, not giving into the desire to pace and throw his arms around in wild gestures while trying to explain himself. He has a thousand things on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them all, for they were knives rather than shields. Eventually he just settles on an almost too neutral elucidation for someone so clearly passionate and governed by emotions: "The question was if he would break Nico's heart, not if his wife would. And if someone would ask me if I would cheat on you and they would name all the women I'm friends with, my colleagues, everyone I ever dated and, yes, my ex-wife included, I would still say 'no, I would not cheat on you and I have no romantic feelings for any of these people mentioned.' This has never been an attack towards his ex-wife nor him having an ex-wife in the first place." And he looks the other way before he gives in to a 'but you keep making it into something I never said.'
Still he mutters: "And I don't hate him."
"Good. I would still love him if you did," Nick could see Rafa being taken aback by Nick's sudden appearance, so he uses the brief moment of his older brother trying to wrap his head around the new situation to walk up to him and wrap his arms around him: "Cê não precisa esconder que tá magoado."
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"I'm not."
"Tisha, can you please punch my brother in the shoulder. I'd do it myself but I don't feel like driving anyone to the hospital tonight." He lets go of Rafael and lights his smoke and finally, finally gets to enjoy it. "You don't give people a chance to treat you right, Rafa, and you think I'm the same. But I actually say if something bothers me. And you know what? Hari listens. And he can accept a no. But you think you gotta save everyone and be a martyr in the process. That's hurting people too, you know?! And I bet Tisha and I could tell you for hours and days how wonderful Hari is, but I want you to go back inside and see for yourself. And this time, when you apologise, make it sound less estúpido, yeah? And can you also try to forgive him too? Tisha, did I forget something?"
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nerdy-hyperfixations · 4 months ago
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My mom (and my sister) said that both baby Stan and Ford are adorable but Ford is cuter and she likes him better and I think my heart is shattered.
This post is dedicated to my favorite kid Stanley panels:
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My mom didn’t even like him when I showed the one where he murders those two kids 😭😭😭 that’s the best part!!!
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