#thread: and i would walk 500 feet

[bxldrsdraumar]

And I Would Walk 500 Feet

When one has become as small as a mouse, one must take care to avoid unexpected hazards. Rain and hail hit deceptively hard. Those stairs you’d vault up one or more at a time? You’ll need to find another route. And all those cats, dogs, and chickens around the monastery you’ve befriended over the school year? Well, the dogs are still more than happy to be your pals (watch out for their enthusiasm, however), but the cats and chickens… The former think you look like the perfect toys now, and the latter may or may not be wondering just how edible you are. Quick! Escape the courtyard!

(starter for @wanderingsstar)

The courtyard seemed to stretch for miles, rolling hills of green lawn, dunes of ant hills and gushing rivers and lakes formed by the mid-autumn rains. Despite the fact of the circumstances, Sigurd almost felt like he was back in Chalphy, and he sighed at the breeze that ruffled through his hair.

He was not in Chalphy, though, and the fact of the circumstance remained: he was very small. So small, in fact, that while he knew he had to leave the courtyard, to begin to find a direction to move to find the dastard that had done this, the world had become to vast and expansive that he almost did not know where to start. Getting his bearings about him, Sigurd thought he could identify north by the distant spire of the cathedral in the distance. But he could also see another front of big grey clouds rolling in, and he knew that travel in inclement weather was difficult under normal circumstances.

It seemed to him, as absurd as it might sound, that the best course of action was to find shelter. Sigurd shook his head at the prospect. It was almost funny.

"Well then," he said. "If north is that-a-way, then the dormitories are to my left." It seemed an easy enough route if he skirted close to the stone-laid footpaths, so he began to make his way in that direction.

It wasn't long before he encountered another soul, and though he knew, of course, that others had met the same strange fate as he, Sigurd was simultaneously relieved and aggrieved at the news. "Ah! Young man! Hello," he called, keeping his tone kind. "I see we are in the same predicament! Are you injured, my boy?"

[califwhite]

Everything is in its right place.

Nanami Kento angst Inspired by Everything In Its Right Place By Radiohead

WC: 500 TW: Vomit, anxiety, heartbreak, angst, death y all the very very bad things..

There was a Japanese myth which Kento introduced to you the day he proposed. He was never much of a mythology buff, but he admitted that your presence in his life gave him a reason to believe it was true. A thin red string tied to the two pinkies of two individuals which the gods had predestined to be together. It was nostalgic, the shaking of his ordinarily steady voice as he explained that the red string twisted and turned, but could never be cut or broken. Everything was in its right place, that was, until it wasn't. His face contorted in pain and the little red thread which was once taught, gave in and laxed to your feet. 

Bile bubbled up in your throat, as you shot up in bed. Your once sleep-rotted consciousness festered with the images of your beloved choking on his own blood. Feet hitting the cold wood floor, you rushed to the toilet to heave the bitter liquid out of your mouth. Your stomach twisted and contorted, ringing out chunks of steak and rice and the bottle of sauvignon blanc you finished yourself. All remnants of the dinner you were supposed to have with your fiance until he told you off the unexpected assignment he had to take on. 

The cold bite of porcelain on your skin did nothing to soothe the shakes that racked your body paired with the anxiety that had you filling its cup. Each heave felt like a flash of your past before your eyes, grieving the future that would never come. Though your mind ceased to find the reason for this all-consuming reaction, an eerily absolute feeling of horror stirred in your gut. On knocking knees, you stood, walking slowly to your phone to hopefully soothe your nerves.  You jabbed your fingers into the screen, pulling up his location. Shibuya… You hurriedly reached for the remote and turned on the news. More bile began twisting out of your throat as you saw the ruins the city was in. Buildings creaked and groaned as they fell, bodies everywhere, the reporter screaming for people to try and seek refuge far from the city. 

The door to your shared bedroom groaned. For a second relief flooded you as you walked forward, a pale hand pushing in with your husband’s tie wrapped around its fist. Everything was okay, he was alive…

Yuji looked at you wide-eyed, tear trails cleared on his face through the muck of caked-on blood. There was only one reason he’d be here. 

“I tried.” He moaned your name in pain. “He asked for you before he went..” 

You felt your eyes roll back, your head lulling to the side, the air rushing against your body as you dropped towards the ground and everything went black. The string will stretch and tangle, but never break. 

Please consider liking and reblogging! Dont steal pls Boarder by the lovely: @saradika

[cilil]

The Elder King's New Clothes

AN: Written for this thread by @feanope, based on @thecoolblackwaves' idea that Manwë could use his feathers as clothing. Might have turned out a bit naughtier than that, but oh well. My dearest fellow Manwë fans, take this as a tiny treat🤍

ഒ Characters: Manwë x Fëanor ഒ Synopsis: Manwë shows Fëanáro the true beauty of his fána. Fëanáro studies him. ഒ Warnings: Nudity, sensuality ഒ Quintuple drabble (500 words) ഒ AO3

"You asked me about my feathers, Fëanáro." 

"I did, my lord." 

Fëanáro turned when he heard the voice of the Vala and froze in place. 

Manwë was walking towards him, his fána unclothed. Bare were his pale feet that only just touched the floor as he went, bare were his lithe figure and slender waist that were usually concealed by flowing robes, bare were well-shaped shoulders and his swan-like neck, freed from collars and heavy jewellery. 

The only thing protecting the Elder King's modesty were his feathers. They were no mere accessories, they were part of his fána like his hair or his limbs, and had been grown and preened with great care to cover what needed covering. 

A second pair of wings had sprouted from the middle of Manwë's back, in addition to the mighty pair growing from his shoulder blades, and they hugged his form from behind, one covering his chest, one his crotch. Between long flight feathers Fëanáro espied a layer of soft down, reminiscent of a small cloud obscuring what lay underneath. Long tail feathers swayed from side to side as he walked, gently and elegantly. 

Fëanáro swallowed. "I take it I may study your form then?" 

"You may." 

"Good. I was hoping for that." 

Manwë smiled mildly in response. 

His wings were relaxed, Fëanáro noticed when he ran his fingers through his plumage. If he wanted to, he could surely move them and see what was underneath. Feeling bold, he pulled on the wing covering Manwë's chest, and it released its embrace, feathers rustling as it withdrew and folded by his side. 

The mysteries of the Elder King's fána were his to uncover. His mouth watered. 

"Should I remove my other wings too, Fëanáro?" Manwë asked.

Fëanáro couldn't help feeling like he was acting coy, though his mien betrayed nothing. Calm, serene, slightly curious at most.

Then again, he believed to have noticed in the past how little the Vala's mien shifted, always kind, always pleasant. Only strong emotions could change his demeanour. 

He would get a reaction out of him, Fëanáro swore to himself. 

"Yes, please," he said confidently. 

As if emerging from a flurry of white, Manwë revealed himself to him fully. "Like this?" 

"Yes. Perfect." 

Fëanáro was already walking around him, admiring the regal curve of his spine and backside. Intrigued, he reached up to place his hand at the base of Manwë's wings, soft down tickling his fingers as he traced bone and muscle underneath the skin. His efforts elicited a pleased hum that permeated the air around them, filling it with warm resonance. 

"Do you enjoy this?" he asked. 

"Very much, yes." 

So it was a sensitive spot, Fëanáro noted, then began rubbing, fondling and lightly scratching the area like he assumed a bird would do, and Manwë fanned out his wings in enjoyment. 

The sight alone was breathtaking. He could count every single feather if he wanted.

"Continue please?" 

And now he had the Elder King begging for more. 

Thanks for reading! I'm too tired to write more tonight, but if you want more of Fëanor fondling bird men let me know ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii

[heavenstocharlee]

Winterbreak // m.lee

Characters: Mark Lee x gender neutral!reader Category: angst / fluff if you squint Word count: 500+ (first poetic blurb!) Song inspiration: Winterbreak by MUNA

Writer’s notes: I am coming out of retirement and posting this blurb I wrote solely because the song reignited my love for writing. It was exciting to write in a more poetic style than usual, and I hope you appreciate it! More life updates soon, but for now bon appetit!

Just as the snow on your windowsill slowly melts, you observe time fracture through bits of fleeting moments. The cold never struck you in such a way as it did. More so than ever before, you felt the winter breeze emanating from the drywalls of your apartment into the warm comfort of your epidermis. The break was not supposed to be this long, you thought. The tugging exchanges between you and Mark lasted for eons, and now numbness fills the spaces between each thread of tension.

You always knew you'd find your way back to him. "One more try." But the winter winds convince you otherwise. 

You and Mark were well aware of the reparations for parting ways. The consequences, however, outweighed the benefits. The break was transparent, and every day it was a struggle to stay still. You desperately depend on the ice beneath your feet to keep you afloat.

You haven't seen Mark since last winter break. A little over a year of hearts moving farther, albeit your love growing fonder. The last memory you shared with Mark consisted of you picking up clothes scattered across the floor and slowly making your way onto the freezing front porch. He wants to walk you home, but you refuse. Tears then started to trickle down his face, indicating that it was over this time. Despite all the bones in your body wanting to wipe all his tears away, you left his residence. His warmth. 

You broke Mark's heart. 

This love was just not fitting at the moment; the love the both of you won't get right. No matter how hard you try.

Habits were hard to break. Your soul respond to each other like the ebb and flow of glacier lakes. Turquoise in color—organic, bright, and untouchable. Ethereally calm in some days, raging in others. But every time his lips parted and his eyes were filled with painful aches, it was all just covering up what was lying underneath. Despite knowing every single thing, it was not going to fix anything. It was not going to repair the cracks or turn back the clock of what was once more. 

"One more try." You often muttered when even a hint of longingness prevailed on your mind. Constantly, until you were sick of it and had to truly just let go. From days to weeks, and now a year. The calendar has turned a new leaf, and all of the frost reminds you of the warmth you once had. 

Would it be different this time? 

You both know you won't get it right. 

Will the winter winds carry you into a change of mind? 

You both know that the trial season is over. 

Magnetic, isn't it? 

Like a force dragging you to greener pastures, as the thin ice resurfaces the underlying intentions.

One text message you send to Mark responds in tentative ellipses. To continue.  To hope. 

You make your way onto the bridge that you once held your memories on. As the vapor out of your mouth comes into existence on that coldest day of the year, you admire winter in its full glory. This time up close and personal, far from childish admiration.

With light and warm footsteps, you hear Mark making his way over to you.

Still, you both know.  This time, alas, it is right. 

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

I am so excited for you all to see the rewrite! I haven't worked this hard on something I've written in a really long time, and it's been such an amazing experience so far. I've worked hard, and I hope that it shows. But there are just 14 more days until it posts! Woohoo! To celebrate, and hopefully maybe get people pumped, here are the first 500 words of the first chapter:

Rhett didn’t check to see if there were any holes in the old pair of Wranglers before he chucked them into the box along with everything else. Old shirts from high school that he couldn’t remember the reason for keeping and had been too small for him for quite some time. Sweatshirts and hoodies he bought at rodeos that made him cringe — their airbrushed images of bucking bulls and rearing stallions large. And a few other pairs of jeans that were just on the wearable side of thread-bare. All this he tossed into the cardboard box his mother had given him. Not caring to fold any of it. 

They were just donations, after all. 

Picking up the box from his bed, and plopping his old brown stetson on his head, Rhett made his way downstairs. The stairs creaked under his booted feet like they had since before he was born.

That was the thing about old farmhouses. They were noisy. Groaned and shook against the winds that rolled along the great Wyoming plains. Settled at odd hours of the night. There was no use in trying to sneak around. Wherever you walked, a floorboard wailed. Over the years, growing up in that old farmhouse, Rhett had learned which polished planks were less squeaky than others. Which steps to avoid in the wee hours of the night. Attempts at creeping through the house, smelling like hay and cheap booze, even his mother — who grew up in that same noisy old farmhouse — found valiant. 

But he didn’t care about sneaking now. It was ten in the morning and he had chores to do. One of which was already complete: gather clothes he wouldn’t mind donating to the Amelia County Boys Home.

Rhett stepped into the overcrowded kitchen to the lingering smells of bacon and eggs. He knew he missed breakfast. He slept in late, and everyone else had already been awake for hours. His father and his older brother, Perry, were probably out in the fields counting cattle by now. He hoped he wouldn’t have to see them before he left for town. Rhett set the box down on the small kitchen table in the middle of the room with a sigh. Wondering if there was any coffee left. 

“That you Rhett?” his mother called from her office. 

Once upon a time, that office was the family dining room. But that conversion took place long before Rhett was born. His grandfather turned it into an office space for the family ranch when he inherited it from his father. Hence the crowded kitchen.

“Yeah,” he replied, taking off his hat and setting it beside the box, knowing his mother would give him a look for wearing it inside the house. “There any coffee?” 

“A little, maybe.”

Rhett turned to the coffeemaker, and sure enough, there was enough for one cup. That was all he needed. Getting down a mug from the hooks over the window, he poured what remained in the decanter and took a sip. Nothing fancy, but it did the job in waking him up some.

just tagging a few people: @nerdysuperchick @bobfloydsbabe @crescentwolf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @onebigfangirlworld @yanna-banana @blue-aconite @gigisimsonmars @laracrofted @a-reader-and-a-writer

[wandering-the-fae-wyldes]

Samael Begins her Quest

Samael walked through the marble halls, humming to herself as she did. Around her magic hummed, sensory spells to trigger doors to open and lights to ignite, scrying spells attempting to pierce shields, flickering flames, arctic ice, and so much more. The tower she was in practically was magic. And all of it spoke to her, sung to her, the spells well made a perfect harmony, the lesser botched jobs minor discords in the harmony. As she walked, she idly wondered about those who didn't hear the symphony, what did her sisters hear when they'd walked these halls? Did they hear the orchestra, or did they hear only scattered harmonies? Like individual instruments playing in concert, each one complex and unique, but lacking in the diversity of the whole? Did they too see the webs entangling the tower, wrapping it in glowing gossamer no more substantial than light, yet stronger than steel? And more so her beloved brother, did hear nothing, see only the marble beneath his feet, was this tower of music nothing more than a silent tomb to him? A place where wonder and imagination goes not to flourish into a member of the orchestra, but to die as it is suffocated under expectations impossible to reach?

As she walks, these musings filling her mind, she begins to hear more and more tones of disharmony. Not off-key or weak minor discords of spells poorly woven, but rather that of another spectrum of magic. A song in direct opposition to the beauty of what lay behind her. Where those spoke of simplicity, necessity, these were notes of power, control, complex plans designed to pursue power. Where before the gossamer threads slid over her, these ones sought out and groped at her. She could feel the pinpricks of each probe, the ones attempting to breach her mind to plunder the knowledge and intent within, the ones trying to grope at her physical form to ascertain who she was, and the rare thread that tried to pierce her soul, to syphon power from her to fuel their efforts. Each one tried and failed to reach her, some threads burning as they met her intent, others being simply lopped off at the tip. For each thread destroyed, she made one of her own to replace them. It was a game that she played with the threads' originator, her mother. Just as she tried to usurp the web her mother continued to renew it, a battle of magic and wits between the two women, and a battle that all who approached the Archmage's Chambers must be subjected to if they were to meet with her.

Reaching her mother's door she was greeted by gossamer threads of various harsh hues, blacks and greys, red and blues, each harsher than the last. What she knew though was this time, it was intentional. The harsher, brighter threads all hid the true danger of the door. Reaching out and gripping the handle she allowed the almost transparent web hidden under the rest break through her shields, testing her identity. If it failed to identify her it would summon the guards and sound a silent alarm to the Archmage, and if it did identify her as a threat the threads would turn a midnight black and she'd be dead within moments. She idly thought on how she'd learned that bit, 500 gold well spent she figured and one less thug on the streets.

Even knowing the threads were there, watching them pierce her shield, she barely noticed them. If she was honest she didn't notice as they pulled back from her hand when she opened the door. Waiting at a black and white, marble and obsidian desk was a woman whose power was second to mortal and authority second only to the royal family. She bowed with the respect due to her, neither mother nor daughter smiling or offering any word of kindness.

Sylvana: "What is it Samael? You should be at your lessons with your martial tutor."

There was little warmth, let alone love in those words, Samael took that as her cue to rise so she could answer. In an equally dispassionate voice she responded.

"Jacwyn is gone mother, why was I not told of his disappearance?" "You were not told because it is none of your concern. I've sent men to find him, rangers led by your oldest sister to find him. I'm sure they'll find him soon enough." Samael clenches her fist and turns to walk away. "That is not good enough, I will lead the search myself." Sylvana narrowed her eyes and stood, her tone sharpening at this show of defiance. "You will do no such thing! You will stay here and continue your studies. Your sister is more than capable of traversing the Fae realms, and I will not have you putting yourself at risk over something so trivial." Samael stopped just outside the door and turned, her eyes glowing faintly as she prepared several spell webs, just in case her mother tried to stop her. "He is mine mother, and I will not let your neglect cost me what I love." To her surprise her mother merely smirks, sitting back down and nodding.

Sylvana: "I see. Well then, I suppose you'd better get going. After all, finder's keepers as the kids say." With that Samael disappeared, a sudden rush of air filling the in where she once stood. Sylvana: "So he's *hers* is he? Perhaps we'll see about that."

[switchspencer]

good evening yes i will would you like to discuss middle of the night “it’s raining outside and i got lonely” sex with spencer?

okay YES because middle of the night sex is sex with IMMACULATE VIBES and ESPECIALLY if it’s raining this is literally the most elite combination of things??

this went a little bit far and there’s actually two sort of blurbs under here.... yikes

word count: 1.5k (the first blurb is 500 words and the other is 1k)

ship: afab! reader x spencer reid

warnings: a storm, penetrative sex, implied creampie, neck kissing, sleepy sex, i think that’s pretty much it!!

i imagine it in one of two ways:

if you’re dating, he’s cuddled up to you. being the big spoon, pressed against your back, his crotch against your ass, his face nestled into the crook of your neck.

he whispers, “are you awake?” his voice is raspy and low, thick with sleep even though he hasn’t been successfully in drifting off yet, and so quiet you can barely even hear it over the pitter patter sounds of the rain at the window. you nod, barely visible in the dim lighting, but he feels it.

his fingers move from where they’re interlocked with yours, skimming over the exposed skin at your waist where your pyjama top has ridden up.

you use your right knee to shift yourself, pushing your body further into his, properly facing him. he doesn’t say anything. neither do you. but your eyes meet, and you can just about make out the outline of his nose as he leans in to kiss you. soft. his fingers following the trail upwards to your nipple, and rolling the left one between his thumb and forefinger. you lift your hips upwards, and feel him grin against your mouth. your hand comes to rest at the nape of his neck, using the hair there as leverage.

his crotch meets yours. he’s hard, really hard, and you gasp. he revels in the noise, it only spurs him to kiss you harder, wiggling his hips to make quick work of his pyjama pants. clumsily, with the hand that isn’t in his hair, you do the same with your own.

surprisingly (or, perhaps, unsurprisingly) you’re wet already. who could really blame you, your incredibly hot boyfriend is so insatiable for you that he’s forgoing precious hours of sleep.

neither of you strip all the way off. he slips inside of you. it’s almost unceremonious, like you’re just meant to slot together like that, nothing out of the ordinary happening. and in a way, it isn’t, you’ve had sex plenty of times. but there’s something different about this time. the way his mouth devours you, the way every move feels measured and thought out.

there’s no loud moans. no cries of each others names. there’s a veil of peace and content shrouding you that neither of you wants to pierce. it’s all quiet gasps, swallowed by his mouth or breathed into his neck while you adorn it with kisses. not harsh ones that will leave marks, just light ones. a small trail down to his collarbone before he captures your lips with his again. his breathing increasing in tandem with your own as he thrusts, your hand threading through the one resting next to your head. the other pulling desperately at his back. to hold him closer to you.

his thumb rubbing over your clit as he slips in and out of you. your head tipping back, biting back a moan as your releases find each other. the pitter patter of the rain never intruding on the moment. just serving as a peaceful backdrop as you lose yourselves in one another.

-

OR version two: you’re on a case together and he can’t sleep. he hears you leave your room, so he pokes his head around his door. you’d gone to the vending machine at the end of the hall to get a snack.

you almost jump out of your skin when you turn around and see him, tousled bed hair, head peaking around the frame of his bedroom door.

“oh,” he breathes, a mock whisper, “sorry i didn’t mean to frighten you. i just wondered who was walking around.”

“just me,” you reply sheepishly, briskly walking the four steps down the hallway to meet him so that your voices don’t draw out the rest of your team on the floor, “sorry, did i wake you?”

he shakes his head, “no. no i was already awake.”

“you can’t sleep either?”

“no.”

“do you want to come and sit with me?”

he tips his head, considering it for a moment. it really isn’t that big a deal, you’ve hung out on plenty of occasions. even shared a bed once, although that time every single breath he’d breathed had caught in his throat whenever you came within an inch of him, his heart leaping out of his chest.

“you don’t have to,” you follow up, and watch his eyes widen, “you just could if you want to. i know it’s no fun being awake alone.”

he presses his lips together thoughtfully, “um, if it’s not too much bother. i wouldn’t want to impose.”

“i invited you,” you say, turning around and using the key card to open your bedroom door, “come in.”

he follows you into the room. there’s a double bed, and your lamp has been left on. you’d had it off when you were trying to sleep, but the storm outside is pretty bad. as if to illustrate your point, there’s a loud rumble, and you’re so startled you almost jump, your hand flying to your chest.

“i wasn’t expecting that,” you laugh.

“there’s a storm coming in from the east,” he informs you, walking in and hovering awkwardly by your bed.

“sit down,” you instruct, “make yourself comfortable.”

you clamber onto the bed yourself. the curtains are shut, but you don’t miss the flash of the lightning that comes two beats after the thunder.

“did you know it takes the sound of thunder approximately 5 seconds to travel one mile?”

“i didn’t,” you reply, crossing your legs, “is it true that you can guess when the lightning will strike based on the thunder sound? i remember hearing about that as a child but i didn’t know if it was true.”

he doesn’t reply for a second. mostly because your pyjama shorts rode up when you crossed your legs, exposing a sizeable amount of skin that he hadn’t been privy to seeing before. he swallows, and your eyes fall down to where his gaze is sat, approximately a milisecond before he tears it away.

the tips of his ears turning pink, his voice cracks on the first syllable, “y-yes, that is actually true.”

“huh,” you nod, “do you want to look at the lightning?”

“w-what?”

right on cue, there’s another rumble. it lasts one, two, three, four, five seconds.

you pull back the curtains, wiggling forward. he follows your lead. the window is only small so you end up pressed against one another as you look at it. all darkness, the window pane smeared with rain that’s beaten down against it. his body is warm, and your heart hammers in your chest at the sensation of your shoulders pressed together. you swear his knees shake before he settles down more properly, sitting on the balls of his feet.

flash. the lightning lasts all of five seconds, but you’re not looking at it after maybe three. instead, you’re looking at him, the last fragments of it reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

“do you like storms?”

“i’m not the biggest fan,” he admits.

you’re staring right at him. you see his adam’s apple bob. it does twice before he caves and looks at you. in the lamplight, you can see his pupils dilate, the honey absorbed right before your eyes. there’s a static in the air that the storm can’t be blamed for.

neither of you move. a game of almost chicken. you don’t want to be the one to make the first move incase it’s something he doesn’t want, something he’s unprepared for. but his gaze drops from your lips and back to your eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip and it’s so obvious that it must be deliberate. it must be deliberate because he’s a profiler and he knows better, knows what those kind of non-verbal cues suggest. so when you tilt your head, the faintest bit, and his follows in the same direction you know what’s happening.

there’s a warmth in the air between your lips, searing hot, and your heart thrums with nerves. your nerves couldn’t possibly be quelled, it’s too much, but your knees can’t quite adjust to the movement of your weight and you tip forward, hand resting on his shoulder. if he wanted to stop you, if he didn’t want to do this, now would be an opportune time to stop you but he doesn’t. he stares at you, imploring you to come closer, pursing his lips.

he’s a blur. you’re so close to his face that the features can’t be made out anymore and it’s him, it’s spencer, the one who finally closes the gap and kisses you.

really kisses you. it starts off slow. gentle. tentative. the heat radiates off his hand but he doesn’t bring it to your waist until you lean in to deepen the kiss. and then he holds you.

it moves so far so fast. the kissing is hurried, enthusiastic, as if now you’ve started you can’t quite fathom how you’d go about stopping. shedding clothes, thrown behind you in your haste. the rumble of thunder is the soundtrack as you pepper kisses all down his body, sucking marks that will purple right above his hipbone. pressing him back against the headboard. when he looks up at you, glasses slipping down his nose, he’s no longer the picture of innocence.

it happens so fast you’re not sure how you get there but what you do know is you’re on top of him, riding him, both so fucking loud that you’re not sure even the sounds of the storm can drown you out.

LINK TO JOIN TAGSLIST (for this blog and @reidyoulikeabook )

NSFW Spencer tagslist: @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @holding-on-to-my-youth @spencerreidat3am @muffin-cup @ssareidbby @reidyourmind @lumosemily @reidaissance @hauntedinsomnia @averyhotchner @sunkissglow @reidsacademia @gingertea6460 @opheli-yeah @meganskane @idonotexiste @thosecriminalminds

[starfirette]

Ok but Helena Bertinelli x fem!reader where Helena takes all her pent up anger out on reader thru sex and she just tops the FUCK out of R and it’s super hot and R lowkey loves when Helena gets angry when it leads to steamy sex👀 oof I need a MINUUUTE😫

a/n: this is very smutty. it is more emotionally angry, and y/n more takes her anger out on helena, BUT i think it's good. .......i think?? | 18+

masterlist | more helena | inbox | ships + requests open

Every single piece of furniture was toppled over.

The fine china that you’d once had shelved on display littered the floor in ground little pieces.

It was a shocking scene to say the least, especially when you were expecting to walk through the door and take an instant nap.

After being in Moscow for the week, both you and Helena had been looking forward to coming back to the shared Alaska home high up in the mountains.

As you stared around in a state of shock, Helena pulled you by the waist. It was as though she wanted to shield you from the destruction that laid before your eyes.

You weren’t naive. At least, not too naive. You could recognize what was going on.

The last time something similar happened was three years ago. At that time, you and Helena had recently been married. It was the threats and destruction that followed Helena which caused her to leave Gotham with you in tow. Together, you traveled halfway across the across the country, in search for a haven that would protect you from Helena’s enemies.

But they’d found you. Again.

“Get your coat,” Helena instructed as she pushed you towards the foyer. 

“But-”

“Get your coat, now, Y/n,” she snapped again, not bothering to look at you. 

You felt oddly embarrassed by the way your wife had spoken to you. You mustered a submissive nod as you hurried to pull on the coat you’d just taken off.

Helena’s angry, Italian cursing bounced off the walls as she turned through the house, her shoes crunching over glass. She spoke with someone in the phone. Her words were fast and icy. She rarely spoke in Italian, but you’d been with her long enough to learn some of the lingo.  She spoke about a safe house and about a rabbit--

Maybe rabbit wasn’t the right word. 

But you’re positive it’s something about a safehouse. 

You waited in the foyer, shivering in the heavy coat you wore despite the warmth it was generating. 

Helena came rushing to you after her phone conversation ended. “We’re getting back in the car,” she instructed you, using her hands to physically turn you back to face the door. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked, feeling dumb as she snatched a random sweater from the coat closet. 

“We’ve been found, so we’re leaving,” Helena said again, slowing her words as if she was trying to dumb it down for you. She put her arm around your waist, ushering you out of the house and carefully down the snowy pathway that led to your driveway. The fresh powdered snow had two sets of footprints, your own and Helena’s. You didn’t see any others, nothing that would have alerted you to thinking someone had broken in. 

Your face burned with warmth as Helena buckle you into the passenger seat. You don’t like being babied by her. You were tempted to bitch about the way she was treating you, but you knew better. At least, right now. You try to remember she’s in a panic, and she’s running on auto pilot. 

The car raced down the long driveway that wrapped in a spiral down the mini mountain. 

Your heart thumped in your throat as she sped away from the house. You clutched into your seatbelt, letting it dig into your palms. “Slow down,” you finally blurted out.

Helena grunted in response. Her foot reluctantly pumped the break.  

You know she doesn’t like to be told to slow down, or to relax, or to be safe. Even so, Helena knows you don’t like when she drives to fast, or goes into a rage, or puts her safety on the line. 

The drive was silent as she expertly navigated some snowy backroads. You wanted to talk to her, maybe even distract her from whatever was boiling in her brain. She didn’t explain what was happening. You were left to your own devices. You could only assume she was taking you to one of her safe checkpoints in Cordova. That had been ingrained into to your mind; Cordova is safe. If anything happens, go to Cordova and call someone, whether it be Harley or one of Helena’s contacts in Italy.

You slumped down your seat, shifting all of your body to lean against your door, your head against the window. "I love you," you muttered.

Helena didn't say anything.

The underground house in Cordova spans 500 square feet. It's nothing fancy. It's more of a basic studio flat than a house, really, with a very well structured lay out. The kitchen consisted of a two burner stove and an old fashioned ice box. On that same note, the given bedroom was really just a queen size mattress on the floor, shoved in a corner against the north eastern wall. It had a pile of new pillows, still wrapped in their Macy's store liners.

You dropped your coat on the little coffee table in the dead center of the room. It faced an outdated, but thorough, television set, with a boxy TV and VHS player. Stacks of worn VHS tapes and magazines were laced neatly on the little coffee table, alongside the clunky television remote.

A single door was on the western wall, and you assumed it led to the bathroom.

You pried off your shoes as Helena closed the heavy vault door, turning all of the metal spires so the locks clicked, leaving only you and her within the room.

It was a heavy silence for a couple minutes. Helena didn't do anything but stand, staring intensely at the vaulted door, as if it was responsible for destroying your mountain top mansion.

You curled into the bed. The quilts had the consistency of hotel blankets, thin and flimsy, allowing all the cold air to pass through the threads.

The side of the bed sank when Helena sat down, her long legs bent at the knees awkwardly. Her hand placed softly on your back, which was huddled in the corner of the bed, pulled over with the quilts.

"Are you okay?" Helena asked. Her voice was hard. She sounded as if she were in a great deal of pain.

You rolled over. You faced your own wall, turning your back on her. When you did not answer, Helena asked again. "Don't ignore me," she snapped.

You jerked upright.

Helena looked momentarily surprised, as if she'd watched a corpse rise from his grave. You stared at her with wide, angry eyes.

"Don’t even start,” you snapped, holding up a finger to stop whatever words Helena was about to start blabbering out.

"You're not allowed to speak to me any way you want, any time you want," you added with a jab of your finger. You scrambled to leave the bed, tripping over the bedding as you clumsily plunged out of her reach.

"I understand that you're stressed," you said, trying to control the volume at which you spoke. "But you always take it out on me. You always make me feel like the world's going to end."

Helena pinched her nose, bending so her elbows rested on her knees. She looked stressed, just so stressed, just about as stressed as you were feeling, but maybe less angry and shaky. "This is serious, Y/n," she said slowly, as if she didn't think you would have understood her otherwise.

"Even so, we have to keep our wits about us. We have to keep our relationship steady, otherwise we're just going to fall apart and fail. This relationship will not last. It will not last. We are always going to be chased by these troubles, by your enemies. I think I could handle it if we didn't get into massive fucking fights every time it happened. It feels like I'm a kid again, watching my parents go back and forth, staying together 'for us kids', when it's pretty clear that divorce would just be better for all of us."

Helena by now had released her face. She had a blank expression as she stared at you.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

You couldn't muster much energy, so you shrugged and collapsed on the little sofa. "I don't care anymore," you muttered. "I just want water. I want to sleep."

Helena ran to your side. She knelt at your feet, quite literally on her hands and knees for you. She braced her hands on your thighs. "How can I make it up to you?"

You stared down at her, unsure of what to say.

"I cannot lose you," she said next. "There wouldn't be a reason to have such safehouses like this if I lost you."

"I cannot handle these fights anymore. It's too much."

"What can I do?"

"I just want to sleep," you sighed. "I'd rather just...listen to the television."

Helena led you to the bed, straightening out the mess you'd made when you'd trampled out of it. You shimmied out of your pants, throwing them out so you could sleep comfortably.

"Please just talk to me," Helena begged as she laid behind you. She wrapped her arms around you tenderly, your back pressed against her chest. "I'm just tired, Helena," you sighed as you let your eyes fall shut.

Helena dragged her hand up the stomach of your shirt, her calloused palm tucking close against your belly.

"I'm tired," you whispered.

Her fingers slipped beneath the band of your underwear. Her palm cupped your warmth, her lips pressing soothing kisses behind your ear.

She did not tease that night. She swept two finger tips into the opening of your hot, twitchy cunt, swiping drops of arousal and then spreading it around your clit. The lubricant beneath her fingertips made the sensation slippery and slick. You slowly gasped at the feeling. The sensation got you to slip out of your body for a split second, as if you could see the scene playing out in front of you. Your hips were grinding fast and hard into Helena's hand.

You snatched her wrist and pushed her hand down. "Inside," you snapped. "If you're really sorry, then inside."

"As you wish," Helena murmured. Her three fingers pushed up and in, stretching the velvety walls of your cunt out. You wanted to scream. Her fingers curled and reached up at the spongey spot way inside of you, like the brightest star in all the galaxy.

"Shit!" you cried. You lurched your head back, your hair scrunching up into Helena's face and nose. She didn't seem to care as she slowly pumped in and out, always making sure to press up at your starpoint.

"Never again," you cried as you gripped at Helena's forearm. You used this as an anchor point to keep you grounded while you wiggled your hips into Helena's hand. "You're never again going to treat me this way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dove, yes," Helena assured you in a soothing voice. "You're such a good bird for me," she sighed, her cool breath tickling your ear. "And you deserve good things. You deserve to cum all over my hand."

Yes, an internal voice shrieked within you. You thought another version of yourself would punch through your chest and take over, take over everything.

Your entire existence rolled up into nothing but pure light as you felt your high coming on quickly. You knew you were cumming, and Helena did too, for she used her other hand to simultaneously stimulate your clit.

The pressure released, like a balloon snapping in your belly.

You were breathing heavily as you sank into Helena's arms. You hadn't realized how tense you'd been until all of your muscles relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Dove," Helena murmured into your ear. She held you tight and close. Her natural perfume, a blend of rosewater and fresh flowers, flooded your senses. With your energy dwindling after such an exertion, you didn't have the strength to argue or complain. You laid there, silently accepting her apology. No longer were you distracted by the wanton desires for orgasm and relief. And in the same way, you were no longer consumed with bitter anger.

"Do you promise we're going to be alright?" you asked, voice cracking and hoarse.

Helena kissed your neck.

"I do."

[httpjeon]

MINE FOR TODAY — KSJ (M.)

synopsis. as part of a special valentines day sale, you make a bid in hopes to get a special discounted date with one of the dreamy bachelors of club ardor. you decide to choose The Romantic. 

pairing. seokjin/reader genre. angst, fluff, smut au. fake dating!au, date-for-hire!au wordcount. 6,171 contents. sad!seokjin, lonely!seokjin, light pining, teasing, protected sex, breast play, fingering, size kink (?), scratching, overstimulation, doggy style, pet names, light aftercare note. seokjins was by far the hardest to write. i have such a difficult time writing him ): i apologize, i did my best for him!

— club ardor masterlist.

© httpjeon 2020. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Your phone let out a startling ding, making you jump as you hadn't realized you'd forgotten to silence it. Taking a look around your cubicle, you made sure no one had noticed before you pulled it out and went to put in do not disturb mode. Before you did, however, the preview notification caught your attention.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

As you were about to unlock your phone to take a look, you heard the light clicks of your boss's heels coming towards you. You quickly slid your phone back into your drawer and turned your attention to your screen, feigning reading something.

Her footsteps paused outside of your cubicle before she called your name. You spun around in your chair to meet her gaze curiously.

"I really need those expense reports within the next hour, can you do that?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," you nodded, turning around once again to face your desk, "I'm actually almost done, I can probably have them on your desk in 30 minutes."

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you."

You returned her smile and let out a sigh once you heard her footsteps disappear. Shaking your head, you let yourself become absorbed in your work once again -- forgetting about that email you'd received.

You caught a taxi to head home, not feeling like walking even though your apartment was only 5 minutes away. Your feet were aching and you just desperately wanted to take a shower and eat dinner as you'd accidentally missed your lunch break by working through it.

It wasn't the first time you'd considered yourself a bit too much of a workaholic.

It was nearing 11PM by the time you finally were able to settle down on the couch. Your hair was freshly washed and you were wrapped in a soft bathrobe with a nice face mask.

Reclining as the TV played in the background, you unlocked your phone to check after spending most of the day without. You responded to texts and checked your social media before suddenly remembered the email you had received earlier.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

It sat at the top of your emails and when you opened it, you were greeted with an image similar to a party invite. In pretty, cursive font it was written; "Once in a lifetime chance to meet the man of your dreams!"

There was a link beneath it that you clicked, causing it to open a new Safari page. The search bar indicated it had taken you to clubardor.com. It wasn't the first time you'd been on the website.

You heard of it's grand opening half a year ago and went to check it out. Unfortunately, you discovered that even the most basic package was 2 grand for 12 hours. The deluxe had a price that nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

In the end, you just signed up for newsletters and things to be sent by email.

It seemed it paid off, as you found yourself on a page detailing a Valentine's special.

For the entire month of February, they were hosting a giveaway. According to each Date's schedule, a lucky woman would be chosen from a lottery to get a date with them for just $500 instead of $2,000. The insane discount had your jaw dropping.

You weren't embarrassed to admit that you were curious about the date-for-hire service. Biting your lip, you decided to throw your hat into the ring and place a bid on the special.

"Full money-back guarantee if you're not chosen!" was written in bold letters above the credit card input.

You had no worry about being scammed, Club Ardor had risen to the top in terms of dating services in the country -- after just 6 months of activity and just 7 bachelors available. They had an excellent reputation and were known for having an extremely high-class clientele.

With your lip caught between your teeth, an excited smile on your face, you put your payment information in and hit 'Enter'.

"Thank you for your bid! Please keep an eye on your email within the next week to determine if you've been chosen! Your lottery number is 1-241-994."

You opened up your note app and typed down the number on a blank note for safe keeping.

Returning to the website, you began to do some digging into each of the men available to hire. While their pictures weren't viewable -- for safety reasons, you supposed, there was plenty of information about them.

"Each Date has full control over creating his own scene. Location, dynamic, and length of time will vary. Please speak to your Date for more information on his plans to be sure you have allotted the correct time-frame. Abide by rules and limits he sets."

You flicked through the profiles of each man, eying their listed physical and emotional qualities.

That night, you went to sleep with excitement stirring in your heart.

Somehow, you managed to work through a couple days and ended up forgetting about even signing up for it. You were working so hard to get a promotion so you could escape the shitty cubicle that somehow spending $500 completely slipped your mind.

At least, that was until you were eating a bowl of cereal at nearly 3 in the morning on a Friday night -- 6 days after you had signed up, and your phone pinged with the alert of an email. Holding the spoon in your mouth, you picked up the device and unlocked it without even looking at the notification.

You went to your email and paused when you saw the email was from Club Ardor.

With shaking fingers, you opened it.

"Below are the applicants who filed for the lottery that won. If you do not see your number, expect a monetary refund within the next 24 hours."

You clicked out and went to your note app to check the number you had gotten. Refreshing your memory, you returned to the email and scanned down the list. There were a lot of numbers listed, you quickly realized. But by some miracle, you spotted your own number listed there in the middle.

"If your number is listed, please check your email for further instructions."

You backed out of the email and refreshed, sitting up straight when you realized you had a new one from Club Ardor.

"Congratulations on winning a special night, please follow this link to register for a date with the man of your choice!"

Clicking the bright red hyperlink, you watched the screen load for several seconds and go from white to black.

You flicked through all seven of the men passing the boyfriend, the romantic, the quiet one, the playboy, the softy, the bad boy, and the alpha male. It was easy to rule out the playboy, bad boy, and alpha male -- deeming them a little too hard of scenes than what you would be able to handle.

After a bit of deliberating, you decided on the romantic. He seemed to be the oldest at 26 years old and from the silhouette of his picture, you could see he had a very nice build with hide shoulders and pretty, thin waist. You assumed he would be closer to your type and you did enjoy romance so with a couple of clicks, you were registered for a date with him.

You were brought to another page which held instructions for downloading an application called Club Ardor along with a code it told you to input.

You did as you were instructed, highly impressed with the company's extensive work on the hiring process. It was very obvious to you that Club Ardor was, in fact, suited for those of high class. The service held an obviously high regard for discretion and safety for both its bachelors and clients.

Once the app was downloaded, you opened it and found a box to enter the code you'd been given.

You were then brought to a page to input information such as your name, age, height, likes, dislikes, and preferences. After entering it all, you were brought to an empty text message thread.

Before you could attempt to look around, your phone let out a jingle and a new text message popped up.

From: Seokjin Hi cutie! Our date is set for tomorrow night. Meet me at the Club Ardor building at 7PM sharp. Wear something nice and pretty, but comfortable. Can't wait to see you!

You read the text several times, surprised by the quick work he made before typing out a response letting him know you understood. The final thing he texted was a an address to the building you would meet him at.

Thankfully, your job has required you to dress nicely for business dinners in the past so you had a decent amount of things to wear. You decided on just a flowing dress that was breathable but complimented your figure. Placing it in the front of your closet for easy access, you went through your nightly routine and got into bed.

You worked through the day, it was a Friday so you compiled the information of the entire week and input it into the data system. It kept you busy and the hours passed by quickly.

You got off at 5, having made sure you finished everything as quickly as possible so you wouldn't have to work over time.

"You're in a rush today, _____," your boss smiled as she met you in the elevator, carrying a couple files.

"I um...I have a date tonight," you confessed sheepishly, face flushing when she gasped.

"Congratulations, I hope you have a wonderful time," she said, patting you on the back, "Stay safe, I'll see you on Monday."

The elevator opened to the 3rd floor and she got off, shooting you a little wave before the doors closed again. You were dropped off at the lobby and you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, bidding a goodbye to the receptionist as you exited your building.

Grabbing a taxi, you made your way home.

As soon as you stepped out of the shower, you heard your phone go off from your bedroom. The notification bell for the Club Ardor app was extremely hard to miss.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you wandered into your bedroom and picked the device up.

From: Seokjin [5:45PM] Super excited, cutie! Can't wait to see you!

You smiled, typing out your response immediately, "Me either! See you soon!".

You were ready earlier than you would have liked. There were still 20 minutes until you could leave and be at Club Ardor on time. You didn't want to be too early or too late.

Timing it just right, you grabbed your purse and slipped your phone into the side pocket before slipping your heels on. The Uber you called pulled up right on time as you exited the lobby of your apartment complex.

Exchanging pleasantries, you crawled into the back seat and let out a nervous breath. Of course it wasn't until you were literally on your way that the nerves would kick in.

Club Ardor came into view at precisely 6:58PM.

The building was a huge high rise building with several floors. Club Ardor was a brightly lit neon sign atop the building. The Uber pulled up to the front curb and you stepped out, checking the time to see it was 6:59PM.

As the Uber sped away, you stepped up to the door, unsure of what to do. Deciding that you should probably let him know you were there, but as you unlocked your phone, the lobby door opened and a man stepped out.

He was dressed in a tux with a bowtie and he looked around for a second before his eyes landed on you.

"_____?" he smiled, walking up to you with his hand out, "It's nice to meet you, I'm Seokjin."

"Hi, Seokjin," you greeted, noting how big his hand was in yours before he pulled away.

"My cars in the garage," he jerked his head in the direction around the building, "Do you want to come or I can pull up."

"I'll...wait here," you said, making him laugh before nodding his head.

"I get it," he waved it off and began to jog around the building.

You could hear the rev of a car engine echo from the garage before a sleek white car came into view. Seokjin got out and jogged around the car to open the door for you.

You thanked him with a soft smile before getting in, pulling the seat belt on as he slammed the door shut.

Once in an enclosed space with him, you were immediately aware of how good he smelled. An almost sweet, fruity perfume wafted off of him and if you looked closely you could see he had a lip tint on.

"So, what's the plan?" you asked, breaking the silence that had settled.

"A romantic date on the water for two," he sighed, almost dreamily.

It couldn't help but laugh, which in turn brought a bright smile onto his face. The atmosphere became increasingly less tense as Seokjin drove to somewhere unknown.

"I'm so hungry," he complained from the driver's seat, making a turn onto a less populated road, "The food is honestly to die for."

"Whoa, what is this place?" you asked, not fully hearing his comment as you watched him pull up at a parking lot near a huge lake.

"This is where our date is, silly!" he grinned, getting out of the car and rounding to open your door for you.

He took your hand, escorting you towards a pier where there was a large boat bobbing with the waters natural movement.

"Hop aboard, lovely," he kept h is hold on your hand as you got onto the boat. He followed you and tugged your hand to get you to follow him.

Your body wavered as the boat suddenly took off but Seokjin was there to steady you with a broad grin.

"Have a seat," he motioned to a small table with two chairs across from one another.

"So," you huffed a laugh as you took a seat, "When you said...dinner on the water."

"I meant it literally," he shrugged, reaching over to click a button and several strings of white fairy lights illuminated everything around you.

"Whoa," you gasped, looking around.

You could see the lights from the buildings on shore and there was a beautiful cast of the moon shining over the water. It was beautiful and as you turned your gaze back to Seokjin, you were surprised to find him leaning his chin on his hand as he watched you.

"Your eyes are sparkling," he said, an almost serene smile on his lips.

In more proper light, you could make out his features more. He had wide shoulders, pretty, plump lips and flawless skin. His eyes were sparkling as well, the dark irises looking like stars were shining within them.

"Would you like to start eating?" he asked, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. His skin was soft and warm and it made you smile as you nodded.

Dinner was a blur, he had a few dishes available to choose from since he didn't know exactly what you would like. You chose the steak, which seemed to make Seokjin quite happy as he ordered the same thing.

You could see where his romantic title came from as he reached across the table to feed you a couple bites every once in a while. Once the main course was over, the two of you shared a strawberry cheesecake slice after he lit the candle at the end of the table.

You had a good laugh when he failed to light it a few times because the breeze kept blowing it out.

"Now, the next portion of our date I'll admit...it's a little lame," he confessed sheepishly as he walked you back to the car.

"Oh?" you climbed into the seat after he opened the door for you.

"We're going to head back to Club Ardor, drink, and watch movies," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"It's not lame," you giggled, resting your head back on the seat, "I think it's a great way to unwind."

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said, sounding relieved.

When you finally pulled back up to Club Ardor, Seokjin was blasting music and singing obnoxiously to it. You had your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too much. Every once in a while, he'd take a look at you and end up laughing midway through his singing.

He pulled into the garage and pulled into a parking spot that had his name on a sign in front of it.

There was a door that he had to scan a card to unlock which led into what appeared to be a lounge room. He didn't waste any time in clicking the button to call the elevator.

Seokjin was comfortable. He had such a calm, relaxing demeanor that it put you at ease.

The two of you sat on the couch and clinked your glasses together before you both downed the shot he had poured. You cringed as it burned going down your throat, leaving a horrible taste in your mouth.

A bit of a lightweight, it didn't take much to get you tipsy and soon you were both losing it over some horrible movie he had accidentally picked.

"I swear it looked good in the previews!" he argued through laughter when you teased him about his choice.

"I'm picking the next one, you've lost movie-picking privileges!" you laughed, stealing the remote from his hands, making him gasp in shock.

He immediately began to try and get it back from you, his body pressed against yours. His perfume once again and it made your eyes flutter.

Pressed against the arm of the couch with Seokjin's body dangerously close to yours, you both paused. He met your eyes, seemingly searching for something in your gaze. As you searched his, you couldn't deny how...sad they looked.

Your breath began to quicken when his face slowly got closer to yours. You could feel his breath against your lips but before they could meet, he was pulling away. He took the remote with him and took his seat beside you once again, leaving you pressing your hand to your chest as your heart raced almost painfully.

There was a terrifyingly loud alarm that rang throughout the room, making you jolt awake.

Looking at the clock, you were disgruntled to see that it was 7 in the morning. Sitting up, you realized you were in bed when you were positive you fell asleep with Seokjin on the couch.

"Hey," he said, making you jump as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, "It's 7am."

"I see that," you mumbled, sliding out of bed, still sleepy.

"Our 12 hours are up."

And just like that it was over.

However, Seokjin didn't leave your mind after that though. Even when you stepped into your apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Especially how you almost kissed.

You were, of course, aware that Club Ardor dates would occasionally participate in physical intimacy. You hadn't expected it to happen to though. You could still remember the way his scent wafted around you and how close his lips were to yours or that sad look in his eyes.

A week passed by quickly and painlessly. You fell back into a rhythm with work, giving vague replies to your boss when she asked about how it went.

Somehow, Seokjin kept slipping into your mind. You couldn't shake him.

A measly 12 hours with a man you had only just met, and he seemed to have invaded your very subconscious.

That day, after work, you decided to take a detour to a local bar. It wasn't a very big, popular bar but the people in your neighborhood frequented it quite often. The atmosphere was buzzing inside and you made to take a seat at the bar but paused when you spotted a figure you recognized. You blinked several times, making sure you weren't hallucinating him.

"Seokjin?" you asked, making him jump.

His head snapped over to look at you, his eyes wide. He took you in for a second before his face morphed into confusion.

"What're you doing here? How'd you know I was here?" he sounded defensive and it made you frown, shaking your head.

"I live in the apartment complex down the street, I stopped here after work for a nice Friday drink," you motioned to your work attire and he seemed to relax. Part of you was offended that he thought you were some kind of stalker but you supposed in his line of work, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

He was drinking a beer slowly, seemingly lost in his own little world as he turned away from you. You got the hint, and went to walk away from him but you stopped when he called your name.

"Um...why don't you sit with me?" he asked, motioning to the empty stool beside him.

You were relieved he asked you to join him because that's all you wanted. You took the seat and he ordered you a drink, for which you thanked him. Being in his presence again felt nice and you already began to relax.

It seemed Seokjin had been drinking there for a while. His face was a little red and he was openly giggly and friendly -- a complete difference than what he was when you first sat him sitting there.

Time flew by with him but eventually you realized it had gotten dark outside and you'd stayed far longer than you had intended.

"I really need to be going," you sighed, the words painful as they slipped out of your mouth. You didn't want to leave him, you'd thought about him so long.

"Wait!" he cried, grabbing a hold of your blouse sleeve, effectively halting you.

"What is it?" you asked, alarmed by the saddened look on his face.

"I...Can't you stay?" he asked, voice soft.

"I...I really need to get home...I've got some reports to go over for work..." you explained, wincing when you watched him visibly deflate, "You...you can come over, if you want?"

"Really?" he looked hopeful again as he hopped off the stool.

He wobbled a bit and you laughed, reaching out to steady him even though you were a little tipsy yourself.

The two of you walked outside, the cool night air hitting your heated skin and making you shiver.

"I really...I'm not supposed to go home with clients..." he mumbled, as if talking to himself, "But I guess you're not technically a client anymore, right?"

You chuckled, cheeks burning when he pulled you close against him, "I guess I'm not."

"Yeah, so it's fine!" he chuckled.

Once the two of you stepped into your apartment, things seemed to shift. He took a seat on the couch and relaxed.

It gave you a moment to take him in; he wore jeans and a t-shirt, looking even better in casual clothes than he did in formal wear.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" you asked suddenly, unable to hold back your smile when he visibly perked up, "I'll make you some."

You disappeared into the kitchen, letting out a deep breath as you realized your heart was racing. Seokjin seemed to have the effect. He didn't even do anything and he had you flustered.

You heated up some milk in the microwave, not wanting to bother with stove top. Pouring the powder into the cup you stood and waited for the milk to be done.

Before it could finish, you felt a presence behind you that had you jumping out of your skin. Turning around, you were face to face with Seokjin's incredible visage. His brown eyes were wide, almost curious and a smile lingered on his pretty lips.

You subconsciously licked your own lips and you swear your saw his own eyes drop to your lips. The energy was tense between the two of you and his perfume was permeating off of him once again. Seokjin opened his mouth to say something but before he could the microwave beeped.

The spell was broken and he backed off, wandering back into the kitchen as you began to mix the powder and milk in the cup.

You took a seat beside him, handing him the cup before turning the TV on. The two of you relaxed, you pulled your throw blanket over you shoulders as Seokjin sipped on his hot chocolate.

As you watched him, you couldn't help but find him cute.

"Hey Seokjin?" you asked, earning a hum from him, "How come you work at Club Ardor?"

"Why do you ask that?" he questioned, frowning as he sat up straighter.

You followed suit, shrugging your shoulders, "I mean surely being a date-for-hire wasn't the job you dreamed of," your words brought a smile to his face and he let out a soft chuckle, "Plus, you're crazy good looking, funny, and charming...I'd expect someone like you to be a model or something."

"Well...thanks..." he smiled, cheeks a little red, "To tell you the truth...I've dated quite a bit but..." he seemed to deflate as he spoke, "It never worked out, they all just wanted me for my money and looks."

"How shallow..." you sighed, shaking your head in dismay.

"Eventually, I just decided to stop trying but...if I'm honest I get so lonely," his confession made you frown, "But I just...don't want to be open to anyone so...this job makes me feel loved, even if it's fake."

"You won't even try to find a girlfriend again or something?" you asked, pained at the idea of him just giving up.

He shook his head, "No one ever wants me for me. Do you think I haven't tried my hardest? It never works, I'm sick of feeling left like I'm worth less than I am."

"Seokjin..." you muttered, reaching over to place your hand over his that was curled up in a fist on his knee, "You...deserve to have someone genuinely love you. It seems impossible but...it can't be like this forever. Someone will come along that will see you for you but you can't just...shut down. You should keep trying," you squeezed his hand, feeling it relax from the fist, "Maybe you've been dating the wrong women!"

"You're right," he mumbled, surprising you, "I think someone more like you is my type."

It took a second for those words to sink in,"Wha--" you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh, "Don't tease me like that!"

"No, I really mean it, _____," he whispered, meeting your gaze. It held such conviction and sincerity that you felt your heart speed up, "I think you're beautiful and you're so sincere. When we had our date," he paused after saying the word before sighing, "I had never wanted to kiss or touch someone more than I wanted to with you. You are absolutely captivating and you don't even know it."

He shifted on the couch, turning to face his body towards you. Your proximity was closer than you expected once he faced you, if you leaned in just a bit more your noses would touch.

The tension between you rose, something hot building that neither of you could deny.

Then, his lips were on yours -- soft and warm with the taste of hot chocolate lingering on them. It wasn't even a thought to hesitate, you were immediately returning the kiss.

It became more heated as the seconds ticked by. You found yourself pinned to the couch with him above you, never breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Whimpering, you felt a shiver go down your spine when he softly nipped at your bottom lip.

When you pulled away, there was a minuscule thread of saliva connecting your lips. Once you met his heated gaze, you both knew what the other wanted.

The walk to the bedroom was a blur of shared kisses and wandering hands pushing clothes off. By the time you were pinned to the bed, you were both naked. 

Seokjin's pretty, plump lips found purchase on your neck, making you shiver as his breath fanned over the sensitive skin. Kisses trailed down to your chest, over your collarbones and sternum before reaching the gentle swell of your breasts. 

Your chest rose as you inhaled sharply at the feeling of his warm lips enveloping a perked nipple. His fingers caressed your skin so delicately you could almost miss it completely  

His digits dipped between your thighs to find your folds already wet. He groaned, lightly grazing his teeth against your nipple before looking up at you through his lashes.

“All this because of some kissing?” he teased, making your cheeks burn.

He huffed a laugh and moved to take your other nipple into his mouth. At that same moment, his fingers parted your folds and found your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further for his access. 

His digits were skilled and graceful, circling your clit to make you whimper before dipping into your entrance. His fingers were long and found your sweet spot quickly, chuckling when your hips twitched upwards at the stimulation. 

He sat up, pulling away from you as he sat back on his heels. His fingers were still inside you and he eagerly watched the way your entrance stretched to accommodate his two — three fingers. 

Your eyes fluttered, rolling back in your head as he fucked you with his fingers. As a result, you missed him wrapping his left hand around his own cock, biting his lip as he finally got the stimulant he needed. 

Precum dripped down his shaft and he eagerly used it to lubricate his movements. He scissored his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched enough to take him. 

When he pulled out, you whined at how empty you felt. 

“Have you got a condom?” he breathed, tightening his fist around his cock when you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled one out. 

You settled back, spreading your legs once again. He groaned, shuffling forward to cover your body with his. Your eyes met as the tip of this cock kissed your entrance. 

Both your mouths fell open as he sunk into you. Your tight walls squeezed him so wonderfully that he groaned. He stretched you open even more than his fingers had, giving you that wonderful burn you needed. 

He met your lips in a sweet kiss as he angled his hips toward your sweet spot. You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to ground you as the pleasure ran rampant. He hissed, cock twitching at the sting of your nails on his back. 

His pelvic bone ground against your clit every time he sunk in, edging you closer and closer to release. Seokjin could feel the way you fluttered around him and he groaned.

Sliding a hand between your bodies, he circled the bud until you arched with a cry of pleasure. 

He eased you through the high, grinning when you trembled through the overstimulation. Finally, he slowed to a stop and pulled out. You whimpered, feeling your hole clench around nothing. 

“Roll over,” he breathed, cupping your hip to urge you onto your front.

With your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air, you looked like a delectable treat for him. Standing on his knees, he sunk his cock back into your cunt. 

You both groaned. The angle had him hitting your spot with painful accuracy. You cried out, muffled in the fabric of the pillow, as he fucked you into even more overstimulation. Your recent orgasm had you much more sensitive and this position allowed him to abuse that. 

An almost sadistic grin crossed over his face as he enjoyed the little cries and whimpers you released the harder he fucked his cock into you. 

Reaching down, he tangled his hand in your hair. You gasped as he tugged until you were up on your knees as well. Your back was against his chest and you could feel him panting against your neck.

His lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin there. Your walls fluttered around him and he released your hair to reach around and cup your breast. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pinched your nipple, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“What is it, baby?” he groaned, the pet name making you flutter around him again. 

“M-Make me cum, please,” you begging, making him groan once more.

He didn't say anything further, simply slid his hand down your body until he found your swollen clit. The second his fingers touched the bud, you clenched tight around him in sensitivity. 

He circled the bud until you were trembling and gushing around him. You cried out his name as pleasure coursed through your body from your high. Seokjin didn't stop circling your clit and fucking his cock into your spasming walls until you were near tears.

He finally let you fall back down to the bed and began to chase his own high. He spread your ass cheeks apart, getting a good view of the way your cunt tried to suck him back in on every out stroke. The sight made him groan. 

It took you deliberately squeezing tightly around him tightly for him to cum. It was sudden and knocked the air out of him. He gripped your hips tightly as he spilled into the condom, his cock twitching the entire time.

Everything was still for several seconds before he pulled out. 

You rolled over to lay on your side as Seokjin got up and went into the bathroom. He came out a moment later with a wet cloth that he used to clean your thighs and folds with, laughing when you playfully smacked his shoulder from the oversensitivity. 

He finally crawled into the bed, the two of you wiggling until you were comfortable. 

You laid with Seokjin's chest beneath your head, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat the only thing you heard. His hand softly combed through your hair and you smiled.

"This...This is what I've been needing for so long," he whispered, "No one trying to get something out of being with me. Just a sincere...caring touch."

"This is what you deserve, Seokjin," you sitting up to look at him. His hair was messed up in an adorable way that made you smile, "You can have so much more if you just...open yourself to it again."

Seokjin's gaze turns glassy as he opened his mouth to speak, "I'm just...scared."

Your heart ached when you saw a tear trickle from his eye. Reaching up, you swiped it away, "I know but...you deserve to be loved, Seokjin."

He didn't reply, simply reaching up to pull you back down into his arms. You held him in return, running your fingertips over his skin until you felt him relax as sleep finally overcame him. Adjusting yourself more comfortably, you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

You opened your eyes to the morning sun shining into your bedroom. You licked your lips as your mouth felt dry and moved to sit up. As you did, you remembered what happened last night.

Looking beside you, you realized he wasn't in bed and the sheets were cold. Standing up, you wrapped your fuzzy robe around you and crept out of the bedroom.

"Seokjin?" you called, frowning when you received no reply.

Your heart was pounding as you made a round around the apartment to see if he left a note of anything. When you couldn't find anything, you returned to your bedroom to pick up your phone.

You froze, realizing you never actually got his phone number. You'd only communicated through the Club Ardor app.

Clicking on the icon, you waited for it to load.

Instead of being brought to your profile, you reached a page with a simple notice on it.

"Your date has filed a report, you are now blocked from using the Club Ardor service. If further contact is attempted, Club Ardor will be forced to take legal matters."

You stared at your phone for several seconds.

Everything that happened flashed through your mind -- the way he kissed you and confessed his feelings of loneliness and hurt to you. You wondered if any of it was true. Were you a game to him?

Your view of the notice on your screen became blurry as you realized you would never know.

[burnedbyshoto]

missing you

— An explosive argument with you has Bakugou wondering just what this relationship means to him —

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: cursing, fluff, angst

word count: 1,299

a/n: this is for @heroheads​ 500 follower event!!! please enjoy!!! to rachel, well, tbh I chose bakugou cuz that was the first character under your face characters on the discord because I was too much of a wimp to try out obero without crying on such a short notice. I hope you still like bakugou and that you enjoy my love!!! congrats, im very proud of you sweetie

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The more that Bakugou sat in the living room alone, the more it irritated him. His legs spread out against the cushion, feet glued to the floor, and his anger shooting through the roof.

There were days where he knew that he was an asshole, that was never up to debate. He was cruel, bigheaded, and very opinionated. There was no doubt that these days were, in fact, a daily thing. It wasn't his fault entirely; he just always needed to have the last word in the effect of his childhood. 

Bakugou was a prodigy, a genius, and above all, a hard worker. He needed to have those last words. 

So when he met you, it was something similar to two universes converging into one. A battle to see which would destroy the other.

Without a doubt, you were someone that Bakugou admired.

Strong-willed, resilient, and knowledgeable.

Sure, in no way were you perfect, but by god were you someone who Bakugou loved.

He had to admit; he wasn't perfect. No matter what he did to try to prove that he was, you saw through it. You saw him for who he was -- good or bad. You accepted it all without a bat of an eye, and you held him to it.

When he was rude to someone who didn't quite deserve it, although most of the time, Bakugou was adamant about believing that they did deserve it, you calmed him down and made him reconsider. When he was ready to solve things with his fists instead of the easier option of solving it with words, you persuaded him to reconsider. You were changing him for good, and while that was something Bakugou strove for himself, he just hated that you were equally stubborn as he was. 

He had blown up earlier this week. A regular conversation that began with simple discussions revolving around your intensifying relationship had horrendously blown up. Bakugou had no idea what had happened, only that you were so confident about everything that spilled from your mouth, your eyes so naive, childlike, and hopeful, that it annoyed the narcissist in him.

Bakugou challenged every thought, trying to debunk this pure fantasy that you had constructed for the both of you. He wasn't proud of his behavior; after all, he was capable of admitting when he was wrong. But these dreams for his first and only romantic relationship just seemed too perfect.

Yes, he was a perfectionist, but he knew better than to believe that the first person to make him feel this way was the only person. So, like any cornered animal, he attacked viciously.

Two universes colliding together with only one winner, one person consuming the other.

It wasn't until your once hopeful eyes had turned stone cold did Bakugou stop. Your lips pressed into a thin line, a visible sign that you were doing everything in your power not to cry. He wishes he could say that he apologized after that, but Bakugou was not one to stop until he had a complete victory.

He stopped with a shaky breath, horrific venomous words pounding heavily in both your ears and tears were pouring from your eyes.  

"Y-You're sleeping on the couch," you uttered, rolling over in your bed and turning off the lights.

It had been two days, two days of eery silence in your shared apartment. 

Bakugou hated it.

You hadn't tried to say anything, and neither had he, and to be honest, he hated not hearing your annoyingly oblivious voice.

Grumbling, Bakugou rose from his feet. 

He walked to your shared room; his fists slammed in his pockets, lips pulled into a snarl.

He hated that he missed you.

He hated that despite the comfortable couch, he only wanted to be lying with you. He hated that he missed the gentle snoring that you claimed was him lying. He hated missing hearing your giggles turning into snorts when you showed him a meme that would garner a loud groan from him. He hated that he wanted your warm body to cling to him when he woke up, silent pleads to stay with you for five more minutes. He hated not hearing your dumb voice tease him for sleeping at nine at night. 

Above all, he hated that you were upset at him.

His hand stretched out to the doorknob, his pride strangling him slightly, but his need for things to be better with his relationship with you outweighed it all. 

His eyes widened when you opened the door with him, your eyes expanding when you nearly ran into his chest.

Both of you stared at each other, emotions running wild in your eyes. 

"I'm sorry--"

"I'm sorry--"

A small smile spread on your face at the interruption, and Bakugou felt his chest tighten with warmth. Fuck, he was so in love with you, wasn't he?

Threading his fingers through his hair, Bakugou stepped closer to you, his hand holding your waist, his forehead pressing against yours. He couldn't look at you, no not yet, but he could feel your big eyes staring at his while he kept his gaze down.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he apologizes. "I said a lot of bullshit, none of which you deserved."

"I kinda did," you defend him, your fingers pressing against the nape of his neck — forty-eight hours of no contact made up at this very moment. "You told me to stop, and I didn't. I may bitch about you being stubborn, but I'm equally stubborn."

A smirk spread across Bakugou's features, a snort like a laugh puffing from his mouth while he nodded, pulling you even closer. "You can't date me without being stubborn."

You nod in agreement, and Bakugou finally looks up at you. Your eyes are closed, absorbing this moment the two of you were having. His fingers feel sweatier than usual when his fingers tighten against your form, his heart in his throat. 

He was nervous.

"How can you talk about the future with me so confidently?" he finally musters the courage to ask, his initial fear long faded since the first night. "We've been dating for less than a fucking year, and we're only twenty, you seem to be a bit too confident in our future."

Your eyes flutter back open, and Bakugou watches the confusion in your eyes. It slowly fades from uncertainty in realization to love.

A chuckle leaves your lips, a sound he had missed.

"I'm not confident, to be honest," you admit, your cheeks flooding with heat. "But when stubborn virgin 'I-don't-care-about-my-romantic-feelings' Bakugou Katsuki -- OW!" Bakugou had pinched your side, and your fingers tugged at his hair in retaliation. "When you admitted your feelings to plain little me, I was... shocked. Maybe I hope that you're the one meant for me because I really hope you are."

Bakugou felt his stomach squeeze at your words, his breathing almost shallow while he felt trapped within your gaze. His mouth pursed before twisting to the side.

"Don't be stupid," he grumbled his grip around you tightening. "You already fucking know that you're the one meant for me."

"Oh yeah?" you snort, eyes full of hope and entertainment when he neared closer to you, your lips entirely too enticing to ignore.

"If I deserve the best, then there's nothing in the world that will be better than you."

Of course, the argument wasn't entirely patched up that night, and it took countless more conversations for Bakugou to finally admit that you were the person he needed most in his future, the person that he would one day sink to a knee to ask for your hand in marriage. Still, until that day came, he was content with the apologetic and hopeful loving kiss his mouth created with yours. 

[scripturiends]

lovers in the night, strangers in the light

Read on ao3

Summary: Seo Injae doesn't like the nosy Han Jipyeong, not until the moment she needed him to meddle.

Rating: T

Word count: 1440

Notes: Title taken from Seori's 'Lovers In The Night': “We could be lovers in the night, we could be strangers in the light, if it's going too fast for you.”

~

I've been a fan of Start-Up since it came out, and got hooked with Injae and Jipyeong after their lone scene together in the finale ㅜㅜ So much chemistry and potential that was only saved for a 30-second scene :( In any case, I wrote a self-indulgent fic a few months back for a friend; it was barely 500 words until I patched it up recently to publish here and on ao3, after being a silent reader of Jinjae fics for so long.

Despite the brevity and straightforwardness of the fic, I hope you enjoy! The fic is under the cut. All mistakes are mine.

At the networking party, Seo – formerly Won – Injae looked visibly uncomfortable conversing with the foreign investor whose hands were getting a little too frisky. She shied at the man's touch, turning away to flinch, but at his beck and call, returned just as quickly, beaming from ear-to-ear like she was never bothered in the first place.

Anyone who knew her would be able to tell that she was faking it.

Han Jipyeong watched from afar, blood boiling at the sight before him. While his instincts were to go after her rescue, the better part of his conscience resisted. After all, it was his meddling that got him tangled up in the long and messy thread of Seo Dalmi and Nam Dosan to begin with, and he's gone through far too much for far too long to wish that misery upon himself a second time. Jipyeong isn't getting any younger, and the true test of maturity, he believes, is to learn when to turn a blind eye.

But he can't stand seeing anybody being touched without their consent. No matter how "normal" this is supposed to be in their line of work, he could never get used to it. And if he himself can't get used to it, how could he expect Injae to?

He shouldn't go after Injae, at least not in the way he's planning to. In the milliseconds passing by, his head tells his feet to stay planted on the ground.

They don't listen.

The moment the foreigner let go of Injae to take a sip of his champagne, Jipyeong was there in a flash, placing a hand gingerly around her waist. She yelped lightly, but seemed to catch on quick: her shoulders stiffened, only for a split second, before completely losing tension at the sight of the blond European man who witnessed the brazen display of affection between the two.

Injae sank into Jipyeong's touch, offering a silent nod of acknowledgment at him. Her dimples protruded as she looked up at her beau for the night, with Jipyeong's own smile following suit. He could swear it was like looking into a mirror.

Then, knowing the businessman couldn't speak their language, she muttered through gritted teeth, "Are you always this nosy?"

Injae's laugh was thick like honey, trying to mask the sharpness of the thinly veiled remark she directed at Jipyeong. It almost scared him just how well she could fake her emotions.

But two can play at that game.

Jipyeong switched his grip from Injae's waist to her shoulder, rubbing circles around it with his thumb. "You can let go if you don't need my help," he whispered.

If Injae was annoyed, she didn't show it, at least not in front of anybody. Instead, she grabbed Jipyeong's hand, intertwined it with hers, and didn't let go the entire night.

—

Walking out of the noise-filled venue, Injae's blurred purple vision clears, not that there's much to be seen in the dark anyway. One lonely light envelops the otherwise empty entrance, and all she hears at the moment are the cicadas in the night, and the footsteps of somebody following closely behind her. Steam comes out of her mouth as she sighs, realizing how cold it actually is in her sleeveless evening gown.

She had finally let go of Jipyeong's hand, but his suit jacket was wrapped around her body, hugging her exposed shoulders warmly.

"Just so you know, I didn't enjoy a single second of that," Injae snipped.

"Okay," Jipyeong allows, voice tone a little higher than it usually is, indicating that he's not the slightest bit convinced. He's mocking her. Injae almost snarls at him for being so nonchalant about this, for being so cocky, for having the audacity to be amused at the thought of getting her flustered.

But the truth is, she is somehow thankful. Mostly relieved, that out of everybody who could have stepped in, it was him – somebody she already respects, and definitely someone she could even learn to trust, in time.

While they're co-workers at Sandbox, they're also, in some weird unprecedented way, family. Jipyeong was closer to Injae's own grandmother than she was, but it was never an issue for her. In fact, she's glad there's someone to fill her shoes in all the years she was an absentee granddaughter. She's making up for all the time lost now, and as she navigates her way through a normal life with her real family, Jipyeong is present for those moments too.

They don't talk, not as often as they do with Dalmi separately, but they're civil. Because of that, Injae knows Jipyeong did this out of genuine concern for her.

If it were anybody else, she definitely would have caused a scene.

Injae's valet arrives, and the pair made their separate ways. Without so much as a goodbye, there was a quiet agreement between the two of them to forget all about this little roleplay.

—

The next few days at work were relatively uneventful for Jipyeong, and he doesn't know why he's disappointed.

He half-expected and half-hoped to run into Injae somehow, to feel the same rush that he did during that night, despite the promise that they would never bring it up again. He couldn't even bask in the awkwardness like the masochist that he is, because he never saw her within those days, not even once.

Is she avoiding me? he wondered. And for the better part of those seemingly dead-end days at the office, that was all he could think about.

It wasn't until Injae came running to him the next morning that he realized she wasn't.

"Han Jipyeong!" she called, but he didn't budge. Finally catching up to him, Injae said his name again, this time much more loudly, pulling on his suit before he could even take another step.

Jipyeong turned around, shocked that Injae was even there.

She was out of breath, and he was half-asleep. All-in-all, not a good combination.

Injae cut to the chase. "Dalmi is setting me up with someone," she complained, sounding restless. She's a woman who wastes no time, indeed. With those words hanging in the air, Jipyeong finally had a vague idea as to why she was blocking him in the middle of Sandbox's footbridge.

And that woke him up better than Youngsil ever could.

"I thought you hated me," he quipped, crossing his arms. He's testing the waters.

"I don't hate you," Injae pressed, "I hate that you're intrusive."

Then, she rattled off, "I can usually handle things like this on my own, but Dalmi hasn't stopped with this nonsense and she has been very candid that she has no plans on stopping until she finds the 'perfect guy' for me. I already have enough on my plate as it is, and – "

Injae bit her lip and sighed, embarrassed at the admission of defeat.

Jipyeong finds it endearing.

"Just one day," she begged, eyes sparkling up at Jipyeong. It was the one striking feature that the Seo sisters shared, and he softened once he locked eyes with the older sibling.

He didn't know what else to say, except that he was definitely flattered that Injae thinks Dalmi would stop meddling in her sister's affairs if she presented Jipyeong as her boyfriend.

Boyfriend, he repeated in his head. Seo Injae's boyfriend. It may be an act, but it's rolling off the tongue better than he imagined. He breathed an amused smile to himself, which Injae definitely caught.

She blinked at him with doe eyes as he offered his hand, probably astonished by the fact that her plan (which was barely even a plan, Jipyeong thought. She could at least have given him a pitch) actually worked, but she firmly took the invitation anyway.

They walked to the office in silence hand-in-hand, which, in retrospect, they didn't actually need to do. Jipyeong could try to deceive himself with a rational explanation: maybe they were practicing. Maybe Injae was just excited and got carried away.

Were they still pretending? He didn't care.

What Injae didn't know was that Jipyeong would have dived in headfirst with this crazy plan in a heartbeat, that the way he felt with her at that party was like an itch he couldn't scratch, that he was just waiting for an opening to feel that way again.

What Injae didn't know was that if even if she didn't ask first, Jipyeong would have interrupted her date anyway.

"Hold your head up," he told her in the elevator, his hand still tightly intertwined with hers. "And remember: you can let go if you don't need me anymore."

She didn't.

~

Send me your thoughts here!

[what-big-teeth]

Moving In

And done! The winner of the 500 raffle, @a-third-attempt​, requested a story featuring a clumsy male arachnid with a gender neutral reader. As I’m mainly familiar with driders, I decided to create a tarantula drider for this story. I hope you all enjoy! Gender Neutral Reader (POV) x Male Monster You tread the beaten path before you with steady steps, letting it lead you deeper into the forest. Your legs are grateful for the chance to stretch and the low-impact of the flat ground beneath your feet. The scent of faint petrichor and deep earthiness fills your nose with a long inhale. It’s calming, overall, more so thanks to the cool spring air. And best of all, your planned venture is taking you to one of your favorite places. The Selenite Hollows showcase an amazing array of different gypsum crystals. You learned from your many visits that they can be bent into different shapes with one’s bare hands. This method is how you received the white, corded pendant hanging against your chest. All thanks to your boyfriend, Tarren. 

You couldn’t have predicted his creative side when you two first met him four months ago while hiking. That presumption was thanks to how he accidentally tripped over his eight legs while coming closer to introduce himself. But you found his clumsiness charming along with the fuzzy, tarantula legs he supports himself on. The fact that Tarren’s white hair contrasts beautifully with his gray upper body and pitch black bottom also helped immensely. You’ve spent numerous weekends visiting Tarren at his abode. And you’ve treasured the time you two spend together, exploring uninhabited parts of the Hollows and greeting his nonhuman neighbors. It’s a shame you won’t be able to visit the caves again. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip at the fact. Thanks to the growing instability working its way around the Hollows, it’s been deemed unlivable by the City. And as such, its residents have been given ample time to collect their belongings and move. Tarren included. You blurted a solution once he shared the news: moving in with you. Unsurprisingly, he sputtered at your suggestion, his eight black eyes widening then flitting to the ground. While you both have visited each other countless times, you’ve never stayed overnight. But after weighing the positives against the drawbacks together, he agreed to a temporary stay. Which left you both happy and apprehensive. You had prior significant others before him, but you’ve never felt as at home with them like Tarren. A small yet growing part of you worries about him seeing your habits. You consider yourself pretty normal. Sure, there may be a few odd food combinations you love that others have turned their noses up at. And your exes have complained about your snoring and starfishing habits. But you both care deeply for each other and such small things would never change that. Right? As you approach the Hollows’ entrance, your stomach begins to make itself known. A frisson of fear churns inside you, unwilling to be ignored. You’re forced to pause to steel yourself by taking a deep breath. Think of Tarren; what you’re going through is meager compared to his sudden displacement. There’s no use in adding more stress to an already taxing situation. So you plaster a smile onto your lips and cross the threshold. “Incoming!” You swiftly step to the side, avoiding the resident chiropteran children who almost barrel into you. The older two of the group dart past you with a brief “sorry!” after a quick use of chirps and clicks. The youngest trails behind them, flapping their large bat wings in order to gain ground. But the two dive down a pathway out of reach, leaving the little one to squeak in frustration. You huff out a laugh and call out to them, reminding them to be careful. You wouldn’t be surprised if they managed to finagle their way out of helping their parents pack. You walk past the home of the young naga couple who are tending to their son, offering a kind hello, one they return with smiles. Their neighbors, a multi-generational family of mothpeople, chitter happily when glimpsing you. The matriarch offers you some homemade, sweet nectar cookies, for you and Tarren when you both have a moment. You pause to thank her for her kindness before promising to return. You continue onward, greeting the other dwellers until you reach the final “house”. Inside, Tarren carefully gathers some of his belongings and tucks them into an antique trunk you gifted him on his birthday. When not afflicted with his endearing clumsiness, he moves with a slow sleekness that hints to his true strength and dexterity. You can’t help but admire the sight and lean against his home’s entrance to admire him. He begins turning towards his books, but his dark eyes notice your movements and flit towards you. “Hey there, handsome,” you say with a grin. Tarren beams, revealing the ends of his prominent black fangs. His hands skim one of the book’s spine as he hurries toward you. He leans down to embrace you, and you revel in the way his claws graze against your nape. “Lovebug! I’m glad you’re here.” His hold tightens to a comfortable snugness, one interspersed with trembling. “So very glad.” You thread a hand through his thin, short locks and nuzzle against his cool cheek. From what Tarren told you about his childhood, he’d been something of a loner. And not by his own choice. Concerning his particular species, once self-sufficient, they were expected to leave the nest to fend for themselves. So the fact that he found a welcoming community to live in was a godsend. Having to lose that sense of belonging and familiarity in one fell swoop... Hopefully, with a bit of luck, he’ll come to see your cabin as a new home. Tarren presses his lips against your temple, his palps caressing your skin. You tilt your head back and gently kiss him, long and slow. Being careful of his fangs, he deepens the gesture, coaxing a sigh from your lips. Needing air, you pull away and hear him whine in reply. “There’ll be more where that came from when we get home,” you say around a chuckle. His smile falters, but he quickly turns away towards his bookshelf. As if to keep you from seeing. “Of course,” he says. “I just have a few other things to pack.” Ignoring the growing uncertainty in your chest, you force a smile. “How can I help?” With Tarren’s instruction, you’re both able to finish loading his belongings into his trunk in a timely manner. This gives you both time to say your goodbyes to his neighbors. After providing your contact information and collecting your promised sweet nectar cookies, the families promise to reach out to you both once settled. The hike back towards the outskirts of town is quiet, interspersed with soft chewing. The cookies are delicious as always, but their sweetness does nothing for the awkwardness between you two. Tarren is more focused on keeping his trunk balanced on top of his abdomen and taking in the passing sights of the forest. “Everything okay?” you gently hedge. Tarren startles somewhat, but his attention turns to you. He smiles, but it’s lacking in sincerity. “I’ll be alright. It’ll just...take some time, is all.” You hum, unsure of what else to say. So you stay silent, turning phrases and topics in your head to pass the time. And hopefully to make Tarren feel more at ease. You both come to the crest of a hill with a large tree at the top, the last landmark before glimpsing your cabin. The outside is rustic, as many are and neatly surrounded by growing foliage. That took some time to do as did tidying up the inside as you took into account Tarren’s larger size and gait. But the completed preparations don’t deter the nerves quivering in your stomach. Still, you do your best to present your home with a flourish of your hand. “And we’re here!” Tarren takes in the two-story structure with a soft smile. “It’s very charming,” he says. “Just like you.” A sudden heat fills your cheeks as you wet your dried lips. If he’s able to flirt, then maybe he’s starting to feel a little bit better. You vow then and there to do all you can to alleviate his discomfort and make him feel at home. “Right back at you, handsome. Come on, I’ll show you where you can put your trunk.” You both descend the hillside. Tarren slips a little on the way down, but recovers with your help.  Due to the size of the cabin’s entrance, he switches to carrying his trunk and squeezes through the door. In anticipation of his arrival, you’ve shifted the layout of the living room’s recliners and table, ensuring a clear path for him. You hadn’t touched the kitchen as of yet, wanting to hear his opinion. “You mentioned having an attic, right?” That question throws off your train of thought. “Oh, um, yes. It’s somewhat dusty since I haven’t had time to clean it yet…” “That’s fine,” he says. “Do you mind if I stay there?” Your eyes widen. You’re tempted to object since the attic is no place for anyone to sleep. But Tarren simply caresses your cheek and gives you a soft smile. It’s what he’s always done to reassure you. “I’ll be fine. I can even tidy it up for you. It’ll give me something to do after unpacking.” You shake your head, trying to speak. But Tarren doesn’t give you the chance. “I’ll come down later once I’m finished. Get some rest, alright?” He turns away, slowly carrying his trunk up the stairs. The doubts that began rooting themselves in your minds plunge deeper. You can only watch as he walks out of sight, listening as the attic’s hatch opens and closes. Part of you wants to follow after him and reach out. But the delicacy of the whole situation weighs heavily on you. Even as your stomach churns at the decision, you turn towards the kitchen to make lunch. Turning on the slow cooker and pouring in last night’s venison stew doesn’t require much effort. But it does give you more time with your thoughts, which slowly but surely, are veering towards the negative. A high-pitched beep from the pot’s timer refocuses your attention. “Is that lunch?” You jolt, nearly dropping the used ladle into the sink. Tarren shrinks away, looking at you with guilt-filled eyes. “S-sorry. I’m still unpacking, so I was hoping to take it upstairs.” You don’t want to exacerbate his remorse, so you quickly agree and provide him a spoon and a paper towel. He softly thanks you and retreats back upstairs, the sight leaving you unsettled. Little did you know this would be the norm for the next few days. You’d wish Tarren a good morning and a good night from the second floor when the time came. Then, you’d go about your daily tasks, including working from home on your laptop. The only time you’d see Tarren was when hunger or the need to bathe forced him from the attic. He’d always take his meal upstairs and go further up the pathway towards a nearby river to wash himself. Even then, sometimes you’d never catch him when he returned from outside. It’s no surprise that sleep became elusive during this time. You lie in bed on your back after a bout of tossing and turning. But it wasn’t due to any myriad of invasive sounds. No, it’s the discomfiting silence from the attic. The not-knowing; the growing distance between you and Tarren. Restlessness pulls at your limbs and you give into it, climbing to your feet. Your dry mouth could use some water anyway. You quietly take the stairs, being cautious of the areas prone to squeaking. It made witnessing the sight before the kitchen sink that much easier. Tarren sits facing the basin, his legs bent and his lower half flush against the wooden floor. The moonlight from outside reveals his claws carefully tugging at pieces of his loose exoskeleton. He hisses, his fangs becoming prominent as he lifts away the rigid covering. You only notice the lack of distance between you two once your hand touches his shoulder. Tarren startles, his wide eyes flitting up to you. They widen more as your vision blurs and waters. “Lovebug?” You slowly kneel by his side, taking in his presence but resisting the urge to embrace him. “You’re hurt,” you croak out. “No, no, dearest. I’m not hurt. Just uncomfortable. I’m....well…” He turns away from you to stare down at the leg he was tending to. “I-It’s time for my molting. It isn’t the most pleasant thing to see and I didn’t want to worry you…” You silently repeat the last few words of his explanation and suddenly, things click into place. Why he kept to himself mostly and didn’t appear before you except to tend to his most basic needs. Frustration and guilt grip at your chest but you realize you’re partially at fault for simply not talking. As Tarren keeps explaining himself, fear lacing into his expression, you wrap your arms around him and lean into his chest. He stutters out your name, tensing, but you hold tight and refuse to stay silent. “I didn’t want to force you to do anything because I thought it’d make you uncomfortable. But part of me also didn’t want you to see my bad habits, either. To regret...wanting to date me.” Tarren relaxes in your arms, releasing a long breath. His arms wind around you, drawing you closer. “I guess we both wanted to show each other our best sides,” he murmured. “But we ended up hurting each other, instead.” You sniff, feeling a few errant tears roll down your cheek. You look up at Tarren and he wipes at the growing wetness with the pad of his clawed thumb. “We did,” you say, “but we can fix that. Starting now and from now on, if you’ll let me.” A long pause. As his claws skim against the nape of your neck, making you shudder, Tarren nods. It takes three hours for you both to finish coaxing along the molting process. Once done, you both pack the old exoskeleton away in a large trash bag. Immediately after, you notice Tarren’s movements becoming sluggish with him barely able to keep his eyes open. Cupping his cheek, you murmur that you’ll be right back before bounding up the stairs and into the attic. True to his word, Tarren had cleaned up, leaving no traces of dust behind. You’ll have to thank him once he’s fully recovered. But for now, it’s important to tend to him. You grab the extra blankets and pillows kept in storage and toss them through the hatch before climbing down. With some maneuvering, you’re able to carry the pile down to the living room and set up a makeshift bed. It takes patience and shared leverage, but you both make it towards the bed and snuggle into the soft, plush pile. Tarren gathers the majority of the pillows to support his upper half while his lower rests flush against the ground. “Comfy?” you ask. “Yes, very.” His half lidded eyes take you in while his hand finds yours to intertwine your fingers with his. “I’m sorry for not explaining myself these past few days. I just...wanted you to still look at me like you are now.” “I am, too. Just know that I love you, Tarren and I want this to last. As long as you feel the same way.” “Oh Lovebug, how could I not?” The sleepy way his mouth slots against yours and his palps caress your skin tell you more than words could ever say. But the way he breathes “I love you, too” against your lips isn’t unwelcome. As sleep slowly claims you, you inch closer to your boyfriend as he nuzzles your hair. Tomorrow will bring a new day, the first of many that you know you will use to strengthen your relationship. Together. 

[fific7]

Velvet

Billy Russo x Reader

@omgrachwrites 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: This follows on from That Swept-Back Hair, approx 8 months later. Things have changed.

Warnings: TBI, memory loss, mentions of sex, angst/fluff mix.

A/N: Loosely based on S2 Billy Russo, but this is non-canon and exists solely within my imaginary Punisher AU. In fact, who is The Punisher? It’s really just The Frankie & Billy Show!

(The little double blink he does as he’s drinking gets me right in the 🖤)

(My GIF)

Your hand glided across the top and then back over Billy’s shorn velvety head, feeling the soft prickliness of the short hairs against your palm. They’d shaved his head when he’d arrived at the hospital prior to surgery.

You still weren’t totally comfortable with the new look, however you knew it’d been unavoidable, and that was that.

It had started growing back a little, and you didn’t want to think about why they were still keeping it short.

His eyelashes fluttered but his eyes remained closed; you sighed and settled yourself back against the uncomfortable seat, ready for another hour’s silent visit.

The sunlight stealing through the venetian blinds threw highlights and shadows onto Billy’s face, and you felt a sudden need to touch his skin. Your fingers ran over his face, feeling each ridge of his scars.

How was Billy going to react when he saw them, you wondered. Let’s be honest, he was a vain man and his good looks had made up a large part of his persona. You didn’t think he was going to take it very well.

It takes a lot of courage for people with disabilities, burns and scars to brave the stares and whispers of others, when all they really want to do is to hide away. The world can be a cruel place, and they have to dig down deep within themselves to find the strength to deal with it.

As you sat there with Billy’s unresponsive hand clasped in yours, your mind drifted back to an awful day, two months ago.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Two short months. How quickly everything can change in a heartbeat.

You and Billy had made a go of things after the Firefighter Affair, as Karen called it. During the six months following it, you’d found yourself in an actual, real-life relationship with Billy, much to your surprise - and intense pleasure.

He’d still spend long hours at Anvil, he had to keep building up the business and you understood that. What you weren’t so happy about was that he was still very much ’hands on’ with the assignments, as if he didn’t want to let go of the reins to a large extent. Inside, there would always be a piece of Lt. Russo, right alongside CEO Russo.

On the other hand, he had to get used to you jetting round the globe on short trips for your new job, which you were loving.

To begin with, there were sulks and jealous outbursts mainly about ’all those foreign guys’ but he chilled a little after you reassured him you had no interest in hooking up with any of them. “Better not, sweetheart,” he’d growled, dark eyes staring you down.

Both of you had made sure you spent time together in between your busy schedules; breakfasts, lunches, dinners, movies, walks and picnics in the park. Taking turns at staying over at each other’s places.

Yes, you’d breached the panther’s den, a huge victory in your mind as none of his other women had ever set foot in it. Hell, some of your clothes and toiletries had made their way into his wardrobe and bathroom, and vice versa.

And, of course, the incredible sex.

Billy was as energetic, sensual and inventive between the sheets as ever. And sometimes he was just pure caveman. You’d be showering in the morning, Billy would strut naked into the bathroom, and you’d hear, “Showering without me, sweetheart?” Hands grabbing you, arms going round you, and you’d be laying on the bath towels on the floor in an instant.

Billy, hovering above you, his body pressing down on yours, eyes gazing at you, “I think you need a little disciplining, angel,” his mouth and hands all over you. You’d thread your fingers through his hair, giving a not-so-gentle tug, there’d be an answering grunt, Billy revving up, ready to give you the best time you’d have that day.

Things were going really well, much better than you’d expected. At first, doubts had still clouded your mind about Billy’s ability to stay faithful, but... there was no evidence to the contrary, he was behaving himself and nothing but very attentive to you. You were now on his arm at every event he attended.

Then, an unexpected phone call one morning as you were getting ready for work. A hospital administrator, who said that you were receiving the call because your name and number were on Billy Russo’s emergency contact list.

Everything stopped, frozen in the moment, as you automatically assumed the worst.

Your brain finally kicked in and began to filter some of what she was saying back to you. Eventually you gathered that Billy had been caught up in an explosion and had been badly injured. Like, really badly injured. She wouldn’t give you any other details over the phone, but agreed when you asked if you could visit him. She did warn you, however, that he wasn’t conscious.

You were scrambling round your apartment, looking for jacket, shoes, bag, when your phone rang again. Karen. You picked up, and heard her trembling voice saying your name and spilling that Frank had been injured in an explosion. Again, you stopped in your tracks.

It dawned on you now why you got the phone call from the hospital, as you were sure Frank would be at the top of Billy’s contact list.

You hadn’t even thought about Frank, that he could’ve been injured too. You felt a stab of guilt.

Agreeing to meet at the hospital, you hung up, dropped a quick explanatory text to your boss, and rushed out to begin your trek over there.

You met up outside the main entrance and stepped into the chaos of the ER. Eventually you were led to a small side room and informed that the attending doctor would come and find you as soon as they could.

Both of you sat and speculated on the severity of their injuries, and what the ‘incident’ could have been. The guys didn’t discuss the nitty-gritty of their work with you, due mainly to the sensitive nature of the assignments.

Karen called into work, firstly to explain her absence and secondly, to ask if there was anything being reported as a major incident, but there was nothing.

A couple of days later, she’d managed to discover that Anvil had got a contract to bodyguard a government official from a Middle Eastern country, and dissidents from there had ambushed him on his way from the airport into the city, slamming their SUV into an escort car and causing its gas tank to explode a few minutes later. That’s what Frank and Billy managed to get caught up in.

The doctor came and collected Karen, saying that Frank was conscious but dazed, and she’d give her more details about his injuries as they walked to his room.

Once you were left alone, the wait began to feel endless. Your mind was circling like a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle; Frank was conscious, Billy wasn’t, Frank was conscious, Billy... why wasn’t Billy conscious?

Eventually, the doctor returned for you, but sat down on one of the plastic hospital chairs rather than leading you to his room. She had that sympathetic but business-like look on her face, the one medical people seemed to adopt when they had bad news to impart.

You found yourself thinking that they had to maintain a bit of distance, otherwise they probably wouldn’t be able to do their job.

She started speaking, telling you that Billy had received his injuries in an explosion, and had sustained lacerations from shrapnel, a dislocated shoulder and a broken foot. But the most serious one had been a substantial concussion which had caused a small bleed on the brain, and this had required immediate surgery.

Swelling of the brain had also caused complications, and Billy had been placed into a medically-induced coma.

She’d stood up then and you’d followed her along several corridors, repeating ‘shrapnel’ over and over in your mind. The doctor had stopped outside a door with a small rectangular window inset above the handle, turning to face you.

“He’s suffered quite a lot of facial scarring, and is quite heavily bandaged... I just wanted to warn you.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Karen had texted you about 30 minutes later, asking if you wanted to stay or go.

To be quite honest, you’d be glad to leave the oppressive little room; the beeping of the machines and rhythmic clicking of the ventilator had been making you feel tense, and a headache was forming behind your eyes.

And Billy’s bandaged head and face - you felt guilty for thinking this - looked like something out of a horror movie.

The two of you met outside the main entrance and headed to a coffee shop you could see on the opposite corner. You had no idea if it had decent coffee but it surely couldn’t be any worse than the dishwater the hospital passed off as a drinkable beverage. Karen caught you up on Frank’s condition as you walked over there.

He had a couple of dislocated joints, two broken fingers, cuts and bruises. Where he’d lucked out - so to speak - was that he’d avoided getting concussed.

Once you’d got your distinctly average coffee, you relayed the details of Billy’s injuries to Karen, and she’d been shocked that he was in such a serious condition.

There was going to be a long old journey ahead to get Billy back on his feet.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

They brought Billy out of the induced coma just short of three weeks later. The brain swelling had definitely been a worry, but they weren’t keen on keeping him under much longer. However, more concerning was the fact that he didn’t wake up of his own accord once the medically induced coma was reversed.

The mummy-like bandages had been removed at the same time, revealing angry-looking red scars. The nurses had been applying oils and balm to them several times a day, and this had helped to calm them quite a lot. But you knew they were still going to be a big shock to Billy.

Frank, out of hospital by then and keeping things ticking over at Anvil, didn’t say much - as was his way - but you knew that both he and Karen were as worried as you were about this unsettling turn of events.

You tried to maintain a positive front, but on occasion found yourself literally sobbing on Karen’s shoulder when it got too much to handle.

You fell into a strange kind of half-life; working as usual then heading out to the hospital each evening to sit and talk to Billy, holding his hand. You ate at odd hours, slept erratically, disturbed by bad dreams, usually about Billy never regaining consciousness.

And so it went; work, hospital, eat, sleep, repeat. Day after soul-destroying day.

Today, at lunch-time you were on your way out to grab something to eat when your phone rang, an unknown number. Praying it wasn’t some annoying cold-caller, you picked up to find yourself speaking to a doctor from the hospital. You stopped walking; you usually didn’t hear from them, they usually had nothing new to tell you.

Three minutes later, you were running back up to your office, to let your boss know that Billy was awake and you had to get to the hospital. “Go, go, Y/N,” he said, “and keep me posted!”

In the back of an Uber, you texted Frank and Karen to give them the good news, saying you’d be in touch later once you’d been able to see him.

You really hoped the traffic wouldn’t be too bad, you were majorly anxious to get to Billy. In case he lost consciousness again before you saw him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your feet took you through the entrance hall, into the lifts and up to Billy’s floor without any conscious input from you, as you’d taken the same route so many times. You waited impatiently at the nurses’ station, your head whipping round as you heard your name.

The doctor took you into the small side room again; so, a chat before you got to see Billy. The doctor had that same look on her face.

“Billy’s awake, but he’s a little disorientated. Y/N... he’s experiencing some amnesia. From what we can gather, he thinks he’s still a serving Marine in Afghanistan.”

Your heart sank; you supposed it had been naive to think he’d wake up and things would magically be back to how they used to be.

“But that’s normal, right? After a head trauma.”

She nodded, “Yes. And all or some memory can be recovered. But as you probably know, there are no hard and fast rules about if or when that will happen. There are no guarantees when it comes to amnesia.”

You gulped, nodding to show you understood.

The doctor reached into her top pocket, bringing out a card and handing it to you. “We have a psychotherapist affiliated to the hospital, a Dr Dumont. In fact, I think she was planning to assess Billy in the next day or so. She’s got several vets on her books, I’m sure she’d be happy to take him on.”

You handed the card back to her. “Thanks, but we’ve already got counselling set up for Billy. An ex-Marine buddy of his, who supports and counsels vets. He’ll be a lot more comfortable with Curtis. Please thank her but let her know we don’t require her help.” The doctor looked a little sceptical but nodded and tucked the card away.

She stood up, waiting for you to do so and then walked with you along the familiar corridors to Billy’s room. “Has he mentioned anyone’s names when you’ve talked to him? Me, Frank, Karen?” A shake of her head, “No, sorry. As I said, he’s quite disorientated.”

You nodded, asking, “Has he seen his scars yet?” Again, she shook her head, “We thought that might be a bit too much for him on his first day awake. If he’s run his hand over his face, he’ll have felt them of course, but there are no mirrors in the room or bathroom.” You nodded, “Thanks, Doctor. I think that’s for the best. I won’t mention it unless he asks me directly.”

She left you outside the door, and taking a deep breath, you opened it and went in.

The figure in the bed had wrapped his sheets round him, right up to his neck. He was curled up on his side, facing away from the door, a defensive position it seemed. You approached the bed, feeling that he knew you were there, but there was no movement.

“Billy?” you said quietly, “it’s me, Y/N.” No response.

Then his head turned towards you, and you had your first sight of his dark eyes in a long time, gazing at you over his shoulder. But you saw instantly there was no recognition in them, and you had to look down to hide your disappointment.

He began to sit up, struggling against the sheet cocoon he’d created, and you leant forward, reshuffling his pillows. He sank back into them, still staring at you. You drank in the sight of him, awake; you’d really begun to think that he’d never regain consciousness.

“We know each other, then,” he suddenly said, a statement, not a question. Voice low and raspy, no doubt due to the recently-removed ventilator.

“We do, Billy,” you replied, “we’ve been seeing each other. An item, as they say.”

He nodded slowly, “For how long?” You pulled up a chair alongside the bed, “Six months.”

He gave a low chuckle, and now his eyes flickered up and down your body as you sat down next to him, before returning to meet your eyes. His had a slight glint in them.

“So we’ve slept together. We have good times?”

You smiled, nodding, “Very good times, Billy.”

He gave you the Billy smirk, and you knew that your Billy was definitely still in there somewhere.

His demeanour suddenly changed, he looked worried. His eyes dropped down onto his hands.

“I don’t know who you are.”

The flat statement took your breath away. You knew he didn’t recognise you, but hearing it said straight out like that hit you like a slap in the face.

He stared at you again, while you tried to arrange your face into a neutral expression. “Sorry,” he mumbled, one hand gesturing in the air at nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted his hand and entwined your fingers with his, “It’s OK, it’s OK,” you said, although truthfully it wasn’t.

It hurt your heart that he didn’t recognise you, but the amnesia was to blame, and you couldn’t lay a guilt trip on him about it.

He was still gazing at you, and you continued, “I’m here, Billy and I... we.... are all here for you.” Squeezing his hand, “Me, Frank, Curtis, Karen, we’ll get you through this, I promise.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and his fingers gripped yours.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Once back in the privacy of your apartment, you filled in the others on a group call. Frank rumbled down the phone, “So he thinks he’s still serving?” “Apparently so. That’s what he told the doctor. I didn’t want to push it on my first visit. I’m heading back later and I’ll try to talk to him a bit more.” Karen asked if he knew about the scarring yet, and you said no, he’d admitted he was in quite a bit of pain, but all over, not just his face.

Curtis butted in at that point, saying that some of his guys had mentioned this Dr Dumont you’d told them about. “Yeah, she’s got some... weird ideas, they said. Masks and shit.” What? You asked him to elaborate and he’d told you the little he knew. “Well, I’m glad I kicked that idea into touch,” you replied, “none of that stuff is gonna help Billy get better, I’m sure of that.”

When you got back to the hospital, Billy was sitting up in bed, and spent the first five minutes you were in the room just staring intently at you. You’d gently questioned him as to how he was feeling, was he eating, drinking, sleeping, but got no response.

Then he’d shaken his head, as if trying to clear it, and asked, “Am I still in Afghanistan?”

You and he then spent a little time talking about what he remembered, probing to see how far back his memories went. He did think he was still in the Marines, thought he was on a tour, but couldn’t remember who he was serving with, could see some faces but didn’t recall names. You were keen to get Frank and Curtis in to see him, maybe it would help if he was face to face with them.

You could see he was getting tired, so you pushed your chair back, about to stand up, when his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. It was such a Billy thing to do, you heard yourself gasp.

He looked at you, then down at his hand on your wrist, “Shouldn’t I have done that?” You smiled, “It’s just such a normal thing for you to do it took me by surprise, Billy.”

“I’m always grabbin’ your wrist?” You laughed out loud, “Amongst other things!”

He laughed too, and you were so happy to hear that sound.

“We need to be talking about all-a that.” He tugged on your wrist, “And I reckon I need a kiss.”

You shook your head, smiling, “Maybe soon, Billy, right now you need to concentrate on getting better.”

“But I think it’d help!” giving you a sly side-eye, “jog my memory.”

You leant in, “How can you think about kissing when you’ve been through a major trauma?!” but you were craving the closeness with him, after weeks without it.

His hand suddenly went from your wrist to the nape of your neck, pulling you half on top of him, and you were thinking that some things didn’t change when his lips met yours.

You’d been imagining a fairly quick, chaste ‘getting to know you again’ kiss, so you were surprised when you felt his tongue sneaking past your lips, his other hand moving smoothly onto the swell of your breast, massaging firmly, and you could feel his arousal under you.

You pushed back, looking at him with a smile.

“Marine! Stand down.”

It was a stupid cheesy thing you’d always said to him, even before you were properly dating.

He stared at you, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, “That.. what you just said. It feels familiar.”

You nodded, “That’s good, Billy... I’m happy about that, I say it to you all the time. It’s our little joke.”

He lay back on his pillows, mood changing suddenly, staring at you. “Why d’you shove me away? I was kissin’ you, had my hands on you, wasn’t that familiar to you, Y/N?”

You stroked his arm. “Billy, I didn’t shove you away. I just need you to remember that you’ve suffered a major trauma, you need to be calm, concentrate on getting better...” He was looking tired, head nestling back into his pillows.

You stood up, picking up your bag, “I’m gonna head home now, let you get your rest. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” You leant forward and kissed his temple, “Sleep well.”

His eyes were already closed as you pulled back from the kiss.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The four of you met up at the hospital mid-morning the next day. Karen and Curtis sat down on chairs in the corridor, while you and Frank headed into Billy’s room.

You stopped in your tracks in the doorway, Frank bumping into you. There was a small, dark-haired woman sitting on a chair, side on to the door, with a clipboard on her knees.

But what had you both frozen to the spot was the sight of Billy, dressed in a tracksuit, sitting on a chair opposite her. He had a pure white mask on; two eye holes, a fully-formed nose, small slit for the mouth. It was damn scary-looking.

You took a few steps into the room, “Who are you?” you challenged the woman, although you had a good idea already. “And why is my boyfriend wearing that weird mask?”

She stared at you, “Boyfriend? Oh.. I didn’t realise...”

You decided to drop the innocent act. “Are you Dr Dumont? Because if you are, you can take your clipboard and your mask and get out of here. I asked the doctor yesterday to tell you that we already have counselling in place for Billy.”

“Well, yes she did, but about that... to be honest that’s why I decided to..” she looked over at Billy, “assess him in any case. I don’t feel that the counselling you mention would be right for...”

“Doctor!” you hissed, and she stopped talking. “You are treading a very thin line here. I haven’t asked or authorised you to see Billy, so I will ask you again, please take your theatre props and go.”

You’d walked over to Billy as you’d been talking, and stripped the mask off him, holding it out to her. Billy’s wide dark eyes were gazing up at you.

She stood up and snatched the mask from you, placing it on top of her clipboard. With a very condescending smile, she said, “I’m telling you, you’re making a big mistake.”

“Get out! Now,” you said, glaring at her.

The door banged shut behind her, and you said as Frank walked over to you, “Unbelievable! Billy’s had a lucky escape from that quack, I reckon.”

Frank nodded, placing his beefy paw on Billy’s shoulder. Billy’s eyes were searching his face.

“Bill,” Frank growled, “‘s me, Frankie. I’m here for ya.” He tightened his grip on the shoulder under his hand. “I got your back, bud.”

You could both tell that he didn’t yet recognise Frank. But he did recognise the comfort the words gave him.

“Frankie,” he murmured.

Then he looked to you. “Y/N?...right?” You nodded, fighting to keep your expression blank. Still not sure of you, even your name. You caught Frank sending you a sympathetic glance.

You took his hand, rubbing your thumb over his skin. Billy had a puzzled look on his face as he looked up at you.

“Why’d she put that mask on me, Y/N? My face hurts. Don’t I look good?”

Your mouth drew into a line, and you quickly glanced at Frank.

“Billy, you look as good as you always did.”

“Did I look good?”

“Yes, you looked so handsome,” you replied, “a beautiful man.”

That small smile, dark eyes sparkling at you.

“And do I still look good?”

You ran your hand down the back of his velvety head, feeling him shiver as your fingers trailed onto his neck, pleased with his response to your touch.

“Yes, you do, Billy,” you answered honestly, because as far as you were concerned, he did.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: DUMONT 🥊 POW! 🥊 how it would’ve gone down if I’d written S2 😉 And thank you Tumblr for totally eating the draft of this last night, really enjoyed re-typing it.

[kpopchangedmylife44]

Ateez: honeymoon thread

Hello fellow atinys, my blog reached 500 followers and I would like to thank everyone, who enjoys my stories 🥺 I’m really happy that someone out there gets to read them and it maybe put a smile on their face ☺️ So this is a 500 follower special. It’s a long thread and also kind of a sequel of my wedding post. I planned it for quite some time, but I also procrastinated and everything was overwhelming in life. Now I’m back (kinda) and will start to work on the requests I got. ✨

Hongjoong

Planning: although you both were extremely tired, you insisted to plan everything yourself, so it turned out exactly how you imagined

Location: Italy

Accommodation: several cozy hotels in bigger cities

Food: it’s Italy so you can bet your ass there is a lot of pizza, spaghetti and ice cream involved

Activities:

- you would start your honeymoon in Rome, where you wander around and fall in love with the city

- the architecture and museums are extremely beautiful, so you’re even more happy that you get to experience it with Hongjoong

- visiting Verona and pretending you were Romeo and Juliet (but with a happy ending)

- eating a lot and wearing comfortable clothes as you walk around so much

- Hongjoong is particular affectionate during this trip as he showers you with compliments all the time and never lets go of your hand

- exploring Venice by boat and singing some dramatic song that you once heard in a opera

- wearing couple jackets he designed himself which feature your initials 🥺

- he filmed parts of the trips as he would like to make a short film, which you could enjoy afterwards

Seonghwa

Planning: since you both hated it, you were hiring someone to do it for you, at least you had prepared a mood board and the general direction of your trip

Location: south of France

Accommodation: fancy all the way, either a really nice hotel or a little castle (or chateau how you say it in French)

Food: grapes in the form of wine

Activities:

- prepare yourself for the luxurious trip of a lifetime

- you’re arriving there and everything is ready for you both

- first are reFrEsHMents (which means alcohol)

- full course meals (and yes, this includes your husbands looks)

- boat trips and visiting tiny islands for the day

- taking a lot of selfies

- enjoying the sun and the food (and Seonghwa in swimwear)

- skinny dipping in the sea

- hot nights in the hot tub

- testing wine and feeling a little pretentious

- visiting a chateau and running around there like a music video

- Seongwha saying ,,so ha“ when he sees you

- kisses your hand and hair all the time and is more clingy (or thirsty) than usual

Yunho

Planning: you try to plan without the stressful part, so you ask a professional for help and it’s really smooth from this point on

Location: nationalparks in the USA

Accommodation: small hotels along the road (not Motels)

Food: normal restaurants, but also a lot of burgers

Activities

- it’s like a roadtrip, but way more comfortable

- you sleep in cozy little hotels and visit some bigger cities along the way

- wandering around the nature with Yunho is actually really fun

- although he is quite hyper around everyone he enjoys the calmness of your trip

- always holding your hand and kissing you

- you visit several national parks like Yosemite and could gaze at the stars during the night

- englishi Time

- he is no longer yunhoe bit yunhusband (i’m sorry)

- buys dumb souvenirs like mood rings which you religiously wear from then on

- thought that he saw a bear and almost started crying

- singing really loudly in the forest

- oh and also outdoor sex

Yeosang

Planning: 8 months before the trip, but he actually always had ideas; planned his wedding and honeymoon years ago when he first met you, he also made a mood board and it helped a lot

Location: Japan during the cherry blossom

Accommodation: a traditional house with a lot of privacy, an onsen but also room service, does not look like a hotel but has all the privileges

Food: lots of chicken; Japanese dishes, but also snacks whenever you go out to explore

Activities

- you would first explore Tokyo and visit everything the city has to offer

- as the city is really beautiful but also hectic, you would visit Nara-park and pet the deers to relax

- you would let some street artist paint a portrait of you both as it’s a really fun idea to remember the trip

- shiba inus everywhere and Yeosang melts every time he sees one of them

- ,,Look at how cute they are. We need to adopt at least one in the future“ (and you would, because they are so adorable)

- fotoshootings with the cherry blossom

- after a week in the urban area you would travel along the coast

- Yeosang rented a car for it and you stayed at different hotels along the way, which you also booked prior

- you visited a little island where a lot of bunnys live and had the best time there

- Yeosang always buys souvenirs whenever you visit a new city or attraction

- he especially loves the postcards as he plans to do a collage with them for your honeymoon fotobook

- driving along the coast would be peaceful and filled with laughter, Yeosang giggling to himself and feeling like all of this might as well be a dream

- ,,I never knew it was possible to love someone so much until I met you“

San

Planning: you booked the trip 6 months prior and you gradually became more and more excited for it, although both of you aren’t really into planning, you did it with a lot of excitement and talked about it for hours on end

Location: South Africa

Accommodation: a huge wooden house in the middle of a resort that focuses on reserving the wildlife

Food: a huge variety of fruits and meat, the dinner is a feast every single day of your stay (and so is your husband)

Activities:

- the journey itself would be really cute as you were flying first class and cuddled all the way until you arrived

- San even mumbled in his sleep how excited he was to finally go

- when you arrived you took it really easy, just relaxing at the resort, which also had huge beds and a stunning outdoor area with a whirlpool

- the first evening you relaxed in that whirpool, while spotting some giraffes in the distance and it just hit you like ,,Wow, look how amazing life could be” (bish, I wish)

- you never really believed that you would ever be this happy, finding someone that you loved and going on adventures with him but here you are

- and of course San felt it too, but you just sat there enjoying it, holding hands and not saying anything

- the next couple of days included going on safari, climbing a mountain, standing under a waterfall and chasing sunsets

- it was the perfect balance between adventure and relaxing

- because of your husband you always felt a calmness by his presence

- ,,I wish we could do this all over again, San.“

- ,,Well, we have the rest of our lives to go on adventures like this.“ 🥺🥺🥺

Mingi

Planning: like the wedding itself it happened quite fast without much planning

Location: Australia

Accommodation: several hotels as you also rented a car

Food: some really strange exotic food, but mostly real meals with the occasional burger and cocktails

Activities

- the focus is on having fun, enjoying every moment and just going with the flow

- after all its Mingi, who has a lot of spontaneous ideas

- why not go snorkeling or run naked around the beaches?

- or that time he was convinced that he saw a shark and you both panicked and screamed (but it was a dolphin)

- going to a concert at the beach and dancing until your feet hurt and he has to carry you

- also sleeping at the same beach as you two were too drunk to find the way back to the hotel

- Mingi being extra clingy and giving some people the stink eye, who look too enthusiastically at you

- he wrote a rap for you (inspired by your honeymoon) and performed it by the ocean

- it’s like having the best trip of your life and realising it doesn’t end when you get home, because having Mingi as your husband is a great adventure and he spends every day trying to make you laugh and love life

Wooyoung

Planning: the location itself was decided a long time ago, but the activities are more spontaneous, just going with the flow

Location: Iceland

Accommodation: first in a hotel, then in a mobile home

Food: fresh food like fish and also a lot of snacks

Activities:

- your honeymoon and accommodation were a little unconventional

- you started in the city of Reyjkavic and visited the touristy sights

- you stumbled around the Icelandic phallological museum and decided to go inside for the lols (and had a lot of giggles)

- after a few days in the city you ventured out to the beautiful nature of Iceland

- it started at the blue lagoon, which was the most relaxing thing and you were just hanging out and sipping slushees (they are really good, I had the time of my life lmao)

- then you drive around and it feels like absolute freedom

- you feel like exploring a whole new world as they are a lot of waterfalls and geysers

- Wooyoung feels like he is falling in love with you even more (if that’s even possible) and if he hadn’t already, he would marry you then and there again

- star gazing as there is no air pollution and it’s amazing how many stars there actually are

- visiting the diamond beach, which sparkles and has you feeling like little kids

- long morning snuggles and random hugs throughout the day

- and he would also be your personal photographer and scream how cute you are

- your honeymoon would also include really random stuff (like the penis museum) like skateboarding in the middle of nowhere (like Walter Mitty - the absolute legend) or hiking because you felt like it

- never a dull moment with your husband that’s for sure

Jongho

Planning: he wanted everything to be perfect so you started pretty early (1 year before)

Location: England

Accommodation: small hotels with cozy interior

Food: pretty normal food, you also tried fish & chips once (and it was nothing special)

Activities:

- would hold your hand during the whole flight

- you started your honeymoon in London which you loved at first sight

- the hotel was really central, so you could walk to a lot of sights

- London by night was magical and you visited many museums which had great artwork and were free

- theater nights and going for a walk along the Thames

- after a week you started to explore the cities around London like Oxford, Brighton and Cambridge

- and everything was so stunning and with Jongho by your side you could literally cry, because does it get much better than this??? (well no)

- Jongho declares his love for you at least once a day and although it was so cheesy it still got you giggling and feeling all mushy inside

- he loves all the old buildings and biscuits, so you would probably visit again sometime

- it’s a really nice and somehow relaxing trip although you get to explore so much

[sombreboy]

Mused obsession (3)

Written by @sombreboy​​ as Jungkook & @chimoona​​​​ as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog​​​​

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 6k ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, so much drunken sexual tension, Jimin has a praise kink what's new, masturbation(both), blowjob, cum on Jimin's pretty face, cum on the floor, cum eating, just a bunch of cum, Luxe sheets with a thread count over 500.

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

How the tables had turned. Just yesterday Jimin was teasing Jungkook with a graze to the thigh, leaning so close he could hear his heart beat in his ears. "No questions asked...right?” “N-no questions,” Jimin confirms, not wholly nervous but aching with anticipation. H is wine-stained lips purse naturally as he tries to relax his tense muscles. The buildup is torture, but he has a feeling Jungkook will make it well worth the wait.

Jungkook squeezes the blondes thigh a little harder, internally cursing at how firm it is in his grasp. His eyes roam down Jimin’s features for a moment, as if giving himself time to think.

What does he want? After a moment that felt like forever, but in reality was merely a minute, Kook’s lips finally part as he mumbles out his slurry words. “Let me take pictures of you." It sounds harmless, but what Jungkook has in mind was far from innocent.

Jimin’s eyebrow quirks at the request. “What...kind of pictures?” He asks, but quickly clasps his hands over his mouth, breaking the one rule he himself set for the bet. “I mean…uh…” He tries to recoup regardless of his slip. He can’t help his curiosity. He wasn’t expecting a request so formal yet intimate. A personal photoshoot, in the private mansion of Jeon Jungkook of GJK industries? Surely this offer has never been extended to anyone else beside himself, and the thought alone makes him feel drunker by the second. “Lead the way,” Jimin confirms with false confidence.

Jungkook breathes out a chuckle through his nose, lifting a finger to wiggle it in front of Jimin’s nose. “No questions.” Slowly, his finger inches closer to drag the pad of it down the blonde’s nose bridge until it playfully pokes the button tip. “Come,” he slurs out, dangerously close to having a double meaning. Jungkook stands to his feet, wobbling slightly as he extends his arm to Jimin with tattoos on clear display as he does so. “I ne-eed you…” The younger pauses to take a breath, gathering himself—the floaty feeling mostly foreign to him, not used to drinking often after all, “...In my studio,” he clarifies.

With Jungkook’s help, Jimin stands to his feet, wobbling to hold his balance. He grips onto the tattooed arm and glides his fingertips over the needle-poked skin, memorizing the patterns like braille. He must look like a drunken idiot but he doesn’t care. He’s far past caring and it's greatly due to the fine wine and sexual tension that, at this point, he would need to cut with a jackhammer. “You have me,” he slurs. It’s supposed to be a question, confirming that the tall man had a firm grasp on him while they shuffle to the studio, but it’s laden with double-meaning. He leaves it at that, pleased to have the younger interpret it in any way he pleases.

Jungkook’s firm grasp doesn’t falter as he guides the elder to his personal studio. It’s a large room with no windows to disturb the artificial light fixtures, placed neatly around the place. His eyes glance over stacks of printed photographs on his desk, scattered out as he was rummaging through them this morning. They’re from last night’s shoot. Every single photo, different variations of Jimin—his new favorite subject. His eyes flicker over to the framed photos on the wall by the desk, filled with his personal favorite shots of the blonde. From a candid closeup of him being surprised as he walked into the glass-mirrored room, to the shot of him dropped to his knees, skin glistening with sweat from swinging the sledgehammer.

It’s pure art. Jimin is pure art. Now, Jungkook has this gorgeous man to himself, ready to do whatever he asks for. He snaps out of his thoughts as he looks over at Jimin, wondering if he notices the photos on the walls too.

But to Jimin, all he sees is a man dedicated to his work. It strikes him differently to see the photos printed in a large format. His drunken self doesn’t even process the fact that he was the only subject matter displayed on Jungkook’s studio walls. His wide eyes transfix on the fine details of each photo as he follows them down the line. It’s proof, Jeon Jungkook is the most dedicated photographer he’s ever had the pleasure of working with. “Which is your favorite?” Jimin asks, mentally taking note to possibly replicate the same expression in their impromptu shoot. He really wants to make the moment perfect.

Jungkook hums in thought as he’s barely paying attention to the photos on the walls. Instead, his attention is tunnel-visioned on the blonde, right next to him, in the flesh. “I think tonight...will be my favorite,” he murmurs, letting go of Jimin to head over towards the spot he just knows he needs to see Jimin pose, grabbing his camera along the way. The set looks as if it was prepared in advance. A large, furry white rug is placed on the floor at the center, surrounded by copious amounts of space. Some lights are placed around it, almost like there had been a shoot there before...which wasn’t the case, technically . It was prepared with Jimin in mind, but never did Jungkook believe he’d actually have him here... this quickly. “Stand on the rug,” Jungkook instructs. His voice is clearer now, even if he’s still in a haze. He beckons the model with his slender, tattooed fingers.

Jimin does as instructed, falling into the rhythm the younger set the past couple of days during their promo shoot. He’s almost positive he knows the next step, itching to shuck off his jacket and bend to his knees, but he’s patient and waits for instruction. Jungkook’s towering, lean body makes him feel smaller than he is. He’s ready to submit—to be a good boy for the victor.

The photographer steps closer to Jimin to inspect him further, as if he doesn’t already have every single detail of the elders face ingrained in his memory. Either way, reaches out to brush the blonde fringe away from his face. “No questions, okay?” He reminds, as if he needs to give another confirmation of this before he continues. He knows that as soon as he starts, he won’t be able to stop. Then he backs a few steps before he sits down on a stool with his camera held high, turning it on with a flick. He peeks through the screen, the small wall of technology serving as a detachment from reality, only spurring his own fantasies to grow. “Undress... slowly .”

The model knew it was coming. How could he not? But the moment those words slip from the younger’s sweet cherry lips, his mind numbs. He’s working solely on instinct and pure lust-driven adrenaline. He could feel the tension engulfing his entire being from the moment he first touched Jungkook; feeling fire ignite his skin to burn . There’s not a moment of hesitance as Jimin slowly begins to slide his jacket off his arms, looking down bashfully at his body, pretending he doesn’t realize the effect it has on anyone who looks. He’s a professional after all.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around his camera at the tortuous show Jimin puts on, or rather...takes off. With eyes trained on the elder through the camera, he zooms into the parts he loves the most; his lips, his neck… However, soon, he’s sure the entirety of the blonde will be his favorite part. “Shirt too.” His voice is low and smooth. “Then turn around, let me see your back.”

Jimin trips over his own feet as he turns around, which would have been embarrassing at any regular modelling event, however, he lightly laughs—so airy and innocent. He turns around so the photographer can get a good look as he very slowly lifts his shirt over his head and casts it to the floor. He leaves his Chanel necklace on as he loves the way the thin material dances along his neckline, teasing the lens with faint flashes of light off the diamonds that lay there. He begins to unbuckle his pants and looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s being watched, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Are you enjoying yourself, Jeon?” Shit —he asked another question. He really can’t help his praise kink, wondering what’s going though Jungkook’s mind as he slowly slides the pants down past his strong thighs.

The shutter of the camera going off echoes in the quiet room—the only other noises heard would be their voices and Jungkook’s breathing as it gradually grows heavier. It’s as if he’s in a trance, time and surroundings long forgotten. Everything is about Jimin and his gorgeous body slowly coming into view. A low groan catches in Jungkook’s throat at the sight of the blonde’s muscular back, wasting no time in capturing the moment on video as his focus lowers down to Jimin’s behind. “Fuck, Jimin...you’re breathtaking.” He breathes out the words in a low groan, shifting in his seat as the aching in his pants becomes less easy to ignore. Eyes are completely lost in the way Jimin’s ass looks slightly bent over while peeling the pants down his thighs.

Jungkook’s compliment fuels Jimin to move faster, but he reels in his desire, taking his time with the final articles of clothing. First, he bends deeper to untie his shoes, leaving his briefs for the final reveal. He takes one shoe off, followed by the other, then places them gently by his discarded shirt. Pants slide down completely and are kicked to the side. He turns around to face Jungkook, not realizing the flash from his camera stopped and that he was being recorded. …Not that he would mind much, he likes to be admired in any form, especially by the younger man. Jimin’s hand slowly traces down his chest and taut abs, over his clothed cock, which is now beginning to strain uncomfortably against the fabric. He glides his hand over his length torturously slow, relaxing his face, closing his eyes—completely lost in the moment.

The red light flashing on the photographer’s camera indicates that he’s still shamelessly recording—the content is nothing but the most valuable thing he will ever own. ...Except for the man himself.

“You’re driving me crazy , Jimin…” Jungkook hisses through his teeth, now holding the camera with one hand as the other unbuttons his shirt, growing hot. “You’re doing so well,” he praises and he becomes impatient with the buttons, opting to simply rip the shirt open. Buttons scatter on the floor around him, exposing the middle of his torso as he lets the shirt hang from his shoulders. Never once do his eyes leave Jimin as the camera pans out to get the full view of the blonde touching himself—every expression saved into a digital memory for him to keep.

Throwing caution to the wind, Jimin strokes deliberately, snaking his hand underneath the waistband to wrap around his shaft. “F-feels good…” he whines. He opens his eyes and stares hungrily at the sight before him—Jungkook, camera in-hand, looking a hot mess with his shirt torn open. He no longer cares about breaking rules. They’ve broken one too many rules in their partnership already, what’s another? “Want to see?” He asks, slowly peeling the fabric lower with his other hand.

 Jungkook peeks over his camera, eyes blown wide with need. The slow tease is tortuous, but he absolutely loves it. “Yes, take it off.” His eyes flicker between Jimin’s, roaming down his body until it lands on where the elders hand is hiding. Kook licks his lips in anticipation as his free hand now palms his own aching bulge, camera still held high to capture every single second of the scene in front of him. “Hurry.”

Jimin tugs the waistband low, gripping his hard cock in his hand, silver rings gliding over the sensitive skin. The briefs fall to the floor and are carelessly kicked off. It’s entrancing to see how eager Jungkook is for him, boosting Jimin’s confidence as he quickens his pace, using the dewey beads of precum to ease the glide. It wasn’t a mistake Jimin requested red wine—the rich liquid always makes him shameless and bold enough to do things he wouldn’t normally. He moans aloud, just for the photographer.

Jungkook’s bottom lip is clamped between his teeth with heavy breaths forcing their way through his nose. His chest heaves up and down slowly. The sounds coming from Jimin are sinful, and it drives the younger man closer towards madness.

How long could he go without craving his touch? The answer is simple. Not long at all.

“Baby....” The pet name naturally slips through Kook's teeth as his tattooed hand squeezes the prominent outline of his length, drawing out a low moan of his own. “Come here,” he nudges with his chin towards the open space on the floor between his manspread, eyes burning with need for the blonde.

No questions asked, right?

Never one to argue with the creative flow of a visionary, Jimin dutifully sits on his knees, resting his smaller frame between Jungkook’s parted thighs. He leans forward and presses his pout against the hardworking tattooed hand, flicking his tongue out to trace circles along the ink. “Yes, sir,” he muffles, lapping hot open-mouthed kisses down the hand until he snakes a finger between his thick lips. He wants Jungkook to know exactly what he can have—no questions asked.

A series of breathy curses slip through Jungkook’s lips as he stares down at Jimin, aiming his camera for a good closeup of the man’s lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. He leans back just a bit to get a better view, replacing the finger teasing between Jimin’s lips with his thumb and resting the rest of the fingers underneath his chin. “Your lips are so pretty,” he praises, swiping the pad of his thumb across Jimin’s upper lip—the pout being one of his favorite features.

“Thank you, sir,” Jimin whispers before sliding the thumb into his mouth, curling his tongue around it. He wets the digit well and pulls back, releasing it with a pop. He stares up at the man with wide lustful eyes, looking directly into the camera lens. “Please…,” he pauses, nipping his lip, “Please let me suck your cock, sir. I want to taste you.”

Jungkook feels like his breath is constantly forced out of his lungs everytime Jimin opens his mouth...he’s that fucking entranced by the man. Whatever he did to end up in this very moment, he’s grateful. The grip around his camera is tightening, internally swearing that if he were to squeeze it any tighter, it would threaten to burst in his hand. He slightly shakes at the tension built up in his body. “Go on, then. Take it out.” His lips curled up in a small smile, withdrawing his hand to let it settle on his thigh as he waits for the blonde to get to work. “It’s all yours.”

Jimin nearly drools at the sight before him, ignoring the ache in his own lap for Jungkook’s permission to touch. Now fully hard, every inch of the younger man is visible through the thin fabric of his underwear. The model firmly digs his shaking fingers under Jungkook’s waistband at both sides and tugs down until the length springs free, standing tall against his abdomen. There really are no words Jimin can use to articulate his excitement, so he shows it with his hands and skillful mouth. He delicately wraps his hand around Jungkook’s fat cock and strokes him just as he would himself, working him up and down gradually. He flattens his tongue against the underside and draws it up painfully slow, holding his eyes on the lens the whole time. Old habits die hard—he can’t help but be a bit of a tease even when he suffers just as much.

“Ah, fuck…” Jungkook’s thigh muscles tense. Automatically, his body reacts with greed before he’s able to control his impulses, hips twitching upwards to chase for friction. “Don’t tease,” he says with a stern tone, letting his free hand tangle in Jimin’s blonde curls. He tugs lightly to bring him closer towards his length, hoping to draw out some whines in the process.

“Mm…Y-yes, sir,” Jimin breathes, wrapping his lips around Jungkook’s large reddened tip. The sting in his roots from the younger’s grip tingles throughout his entire body. To be controlled by this man in a professional setting is exhilarating all on it’s own, but in this context…it feels electrifying . He wants to worship this man on his knees for all eternity, fighting to swallow around his punishing length.

‘yes, sir’ —the two words Jungkook never knew he wanted to continuously hear tumble from Jimin’s lips over and over until now. It makes him feel powerful, and he is... He’s one of the most powerful men in the industry, and he can have anything he wants by the simple wave of his hand, but this ... It beats every piece of wealth he could ever possess. His control over the man who had willingly dropped to his knees to please...now that was priceless. “What a good boy..” Jungkook purrs, inching the camera lens closer to Jimin’s face. The focus for this shot will be the way his length sinks deeper into the elders mouth at the photographer’s demand, in the form of a hand pushing the back of his neck. “‘Let’s see how much you can take.”

Jimin glows under the praise. He feels even needier by the sounds he was drawing from above, driven to make Jungkook fill his large house with only the sounds of pleasure he was administering. He braces himself clumsily on Jungkook’s inner thigh for leverage as his mouth begins to get fucked into. On queue, Jimin hallows his cheeks for a tight suction as he quickens his pace, making the younger grip his hair even harder, guiding his head exactly where he wants it.

Beads of sweat start to form on Jungkook’s temples, trickling down as he’s practically taking control; the grip on the blonde’s curls tighten further. “So good…” Jungkook drops the camera to the floor with a loud thud, with no regard to whether it would break or not. He wants to indulge in the reality of the situation, letting both his hands control Jimin’s head as hips fuck his cock down his throat. Jungkook throws his head back, lips parting in heavy breaths and moans that constantly slip through them. With every groan, the adam's apple underneath his clammy skin bobs. “Shit, you’re everything …”

Jimin focuses on shallow breaths, uncontrollably swallowing around Jungkook’s cock as it slides past his gag reflex. Without the camera to perform to, Jimin’s glazed eyes stare up, directly at Jungkook. Just seeing his sweat-dampened skin, his parted lips, and hearing the erotic sounds that escape them is enough to let Jimin know just how close he’s getting. Jimin fumbles to wrap his hand around his own length, struggling to resist any longer.

Indulging in the moment for as long as humanly possible, Jungkook continuously thrusts into Jimin’s mouth until he feels the familiar heat pooling in his lower abdomen. The muscles in his thighs tense up with every slick stroke against the blonde’s tongue. “I’m g-gonna cum soon…” He stutters out his breathy words, head bending forward to get a good look of Jimin desperately trying to please him. The grip in the model’s hair loosens slightly to let him work on his own length. “Keep going,’’ Jungkook says as he reaches for the fallen camera on the floor. Video is still recording as he guides the lens back to focus on Jimin’s pouty lips and glazed eyes. “A little more… Use your hands, wanna cum on your face…”

Those last words make Jimin jump in his skin, swirling his tongue around Jungkook sloppily with wet smacks and stroking himself faster in tandem. It has to be perfect—every fibre of his being sings to please the young photographer and give the performance of a lifetime. His own skin beads with sweat as he works himself up to finish, even harder at the promise of feeling Jungkook’s hot cum on his face.

The crease between Jungkook’s eyebrows become more and more prominent with every passing second, watching Jimin through his camera lens once again, feeding his obsession further. His hips start to tense and jut upwards for even more friction. “Wait, wait, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” He hisses out, not giving Jimin much time to make a show out of it. Instead the younger presses his hand against Jimin’s neck to force him further down on his knees, allowing his cock to pop out of his mouth. He quickly grabs a hold of his length and strokes himself right in front of Jimin’s face, letting the tip graze the soft, damp pout. A loud, drawn out moan follows the moment Jungkook cums. His hand shakily records his next piece of art; Jimin’s face covered in himself.

The model closes his eyes as he feels the first pat of cum hit his lips. Out of instinct, his tongue darts out to lick it away; salt and musk coating his taste buds. More spurts tap his face and gleam under the studio lights, making the beauty even more picturesque, painted just for Jungkook. “Mm…thank you,” he breathes, voice breaking into a whimper. He opens his eyes, face shining in the younger’s release, wanting to give him the best shot possible. However, Jimin never stops touching himself and begins to break. “F-fuck—“ A strangled moan catches in his tender throat as his hand continues to work steadily. He looks up at Jungkook with stars in his eyes and damp lips parted, begging for his own release. “ Please , sir…wanna cum too.” He edges himself, barely touching his hard cock until he receives permission from the victor. “…m-may I, please?”

Jungkook quickly gathers himself, sobered from his release, which only made this so much better. He’s able to properly focus on the man, on his knees beneath him. He gently gives his own length a slow stroke, quietly exhaling from the oversensitivity. “You may, you’ve been nothing but a good boy,” he coos, suddenly standing from his seat and pulling his pants back up. He pushes the stool aside before dropping to his knees in front of Jimin, getting a perfect view of the wrecked mess—a blonde angel. “Cum on the floor,” he instructs, focusing the camera lens on the way Jimin’s face distorts with pleasure.

Jimin nods dutifully and bites his lip in response to the praise. He relinquishes all power to the younger man; drunk and so incredibly weak from pent-up lust. With Jungkook’s permission and explicit instructions, Jimin leans forward and braces his palm on the floor while the other picks up the pace. He barely has to touch himself, he’s already so close to breaking. A string of curses escape his throat as he doubles over and breathes heavily, moaning aloud and stroking himself until he shakes. “C-cumming… fuck ..” His muscles spasm and contract—cum pooling on the floor beneath him. He sits back on his heels and looks up at Jungkook, exhausted and damp with sweat, cock twitching in his palm.

“ Wow …” Jungkook stares in awe, the same way he’d look at Jimin during their photoshoots. It doesn’t matter what state the blonde is in; he could be put together and styled to perfection, or a fucked out, sweaty mess beneath him with a face glistening in cum. It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s perfection .  “You’re incredible…” the photographer breathes out as he pans the zoom, getting a full image of the scene on his recording. Jungkook reaches out to swipe his thumb across the elders cheek and gathers some of his cum before bringing it to Jimin’s lips, urging him to lick his finger clean. “Look at the mess you’ve made on my floor…” he says coyly, as if he wasn’t the one who instructed Jimin to do so, “Clean it up, will you? With your tongue.”

Jimin’s dextrous tongue snakes around Jungkook’s thumb, sucking it into his mouth sweetly before releasing it, completely cleaned of the sticky mess. The next request was past a boundary Jimin hadn’t pushed, but felt so eager to cross. He had a hunch the younger man was kinky behind closed doors, but he didn’t expect his mind to be pure filth. He loves discovering more about him. “Yes, Sir,” he nods again and levels himself to the floor on hands and knees, bent over like an obedient dog. He laps a rope of his own release onto his flattened tongue, pulling it up to allow Jungkook to record it going into his mouth, slowly, closing his eyes. Moans and wet laps fill the silence until the floor is sparkling clean, without a trace of his warm cum. He wonders what else he has yet to discover about the man that is perhaps even more sinister and degrading than what took place tonight in his mansion. “All clean.”

Jungkook is lost in his own world through the lens, making sure he captures everything in an angle that he knows will drive him absolutely mad later, as he will likely replay the content over and over. He hums in approval as he reaches out to grasp Jimin’s jaw between his fingers, squeezing his cheeks to amplify the pout of those plushy lips. “Good boy.” He praises, finally turning the camera off and placing it on the floor to give his full attention. “There’s one more thing that I want before we’re done for today,” he murmurs, slowly inching closer to the angel, “want to kiss you.”

“Mm,” Jimin hums at the mere idea of Jungkook tasting him on his lips. “Kiss me,” he permits, melting into his touch, leaning forward to close the distance himself. It’s timid and slow, almost more intimate than sucking his cock. Jimin parts his lips to take him in deeper, needing to be closer, letting Jungkook guide the way. His mind is swimming, still drunk and coming down from his euphoric state. It feels like the perfect wrap-up after a tiring shoot. Yet, it feels much more than a reward for a job well-done. Perhaps it’s the glimmer of childlike innocence in Jungkook’s eyes that make Jimin’s heart pool in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he needs this more than he thought he would. He has all the attention he could ever want in the world of fashion, but he hasn’t felt this appreciated in a long time.

Jungkook’s hand moves to gently cup the elders cheek, drawing him closer into the kiss as he lets his lips slowly explore the other male’s. A little cautious at first, but quickly, he starts to move more naturally against Jimin’s lips, already growing addicted to the feeling. They’re silky smooth, plump, like a kiss from an angel itself. Fuck… Jungkook is whipped. “Would you like a bath before bed?” He casually asks; the domestic feel of his words are completely unfitting for the situation, yet...not. He leans in for another chaste kiss, unable to keep himself away for too long now that he’d gotten a taste.

“Before…bed…” Jimin’s words trail quietly as he didn't expect to be staying much longer, let alone overnight. Hell, he didn’t expect a lot of things to happen past his fumbling attempt to beat the younger man at his own game—Overwatch. Even then, he should attribute most of what happened to his poor handling of a controller. He could only imagine what would have happened if he accepted the offer of sugary banana milk in place of red wine. “O-kay,” he solidifies, stumbling over his words, suddenly shy under the kindness being bestowed upon him. He seals his answer with a kiss, full lips lingering on the other man’s and breathing in the intoxicating scent of cologne and natural musk. He’s in no shape to go home anyhow. The relaxing offer of a bath felt so good after the day he had.

Jungkook pulls back from the kiss to get up on his feet, effortlessly lifting Jimin within the same motion as he snakes his arm around the elder’s hip. Without a word, he guides the two of them towards the grand bathroom upstairs, paying no mind towards the maid throwing small glances from the hallway where she’s cleaning. She’s never seen the young Jeon Jungkook bring such company to his home before, so the obvious look of surprise was hard to miss. A s the door closes behind them, the younger man prepares to fill up the bathtub with hot water. He pours in some bubbles with a mild fresh scent– because, well, he loves bubbles. His childlike bunny smile widens as he turns around. “Get in, I’ll wash you.”

Jimin gives him a small smile in response and steps into the warm water. It envelops him as he slides in, soothing and fragrant like Jungkook’s long fluffy hair. It’s a calming scent that Jimin now associates with the photographer, reminding him of the studio couch where they first sat close.  Jimin is small in the lavish tub—it’s almost comical how the large bubbles nearly reach his chin. He’s still sobering but already feels much less drunk cradled in the calming water. But one important element is missing— “You wanted to wash me, Jeon?” Jimin tongues his red plushy lip and nods for Jungkook to join him in the tub. “Plenty of room for us both…”

Jungkook nods eagerly as he gets rid of the clothes covering his body, throwing them off to the side before stepping inside the tub to sink down behind Jimin. The bubbles rise with the added body into the water. “See it as a reward for being so good to me.” He praises, reaching out for the shampoo bottle to squirt a generous amount into his hand. He inhales the scent. It’s his favorite, and now the blonde would smell like it too. It’s almost as if he’s marking the elder once more in small ways. He gently starts to massage the shampoo into Jimin’s scalp, taking his time to cover every inch of the gorgeous locks. Jungkook loves to touch him, he can’t get enough.

The blonde’s eyes flutter shut, “Mm feels so good…thank you.” He leans back into Jungkook’s chest, allowing each of his muscles to go slack as the pleasurable sensation of fingers running through his hair puts him at ease. This is all very, very new to Jimin, but he’s quickly getting used to it. The slow and rhythmic motion gives him time to reflect on the day. “Do you think the show went well without me?” Jimin speaks openly, eyes still closed. Today’s event was just another critical component of his project and can’t help worrying that he may have jeopardized it by leaving early. Deep down, especially in this moment with Jungkook’s lean body pressing against his back, it’s hard to have regrets.

“You showed up, that’s all you needed to do,” Jungkook reassures with a soothing voice. His long fingers comb through the blonde curls until there’s a decent amount of lather builds up. When he deems it enough, he leans back further and pushes Jimin down gently. “Sink down further please, let me wash this off…”

Jimin slides his slick and soapy body further down into the water and cradles his head in the curve of Jungkook’s chest. At this angle, all he has to do is open his eyes to watch adoringly as the younger man combs his hands through his hair. He’s so relaxed at this point, accepting every bit of care with a contented sigh. Jimin smiles meekly, “How are you so good at this? Plenty of practice, I assume?”

The younger cups water into his hand as he washed off the suds, gently running his fingers through Jimin’s hair in the process. He smiles, nose scrunching up as he shakes his head. “No, it’s a first for me. I’ve seen it in movies, though,” he admits as the grin on his lips widens in light embarrassment. He finishes rinsing the blonde’s hair clean, then snakes his arms around his torso to pull him closer against his own. The intimacy is just as good, if not better, then the things that went down earlier.

“You’re a natural,” Jimin compliments, resting against his chest fully, “and so comfortable.” He turns his head to look up at Jungkook and admire the glowing sheen of sweat that tickles down his strong neck, over his collarbones. God, he really is beautiful. Jimin can’t wait to tailor a suit for the man, making good on his promise earlier. Every angle of his body deserves to be hugged tight.  As the hot bath water cools, Jimin begins to feel very sleepy—the long day finally catching up. Trailing shortly behind, Jungkook also began to feel sleepiness creep up on him. However, he still gives himself a few minutes of comfortable silence to simply enjoy feeling Jimin skin to skin. “Hm..” He hums in content, eyes drinking in the pretty boy beneath him, “Alright… Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow’s a long day.” Jungkook gets up to his feet with water trickling down his body, then reaches down to help Jimin up as well. He steps out of the tub and grabs two bathrobes, handing one to the elder to get warm, then guides him to his room.

Just as Jimin settles into the bathrobe, thinking it’s the cosiest thing he had ever slipped his naked body into, he sits on Jungkook’s large bed and discovers it’s even cosier.  Luxe sheets, with a thread count over 500. It isn’t something the model has dabbled in; impressing that the younger man has a taste for such things. He notes that any article of clothing made for him must be of the highest quality—no exceptions. Positively high on cloud nine, Jimin settles deeper into the bed and wonders where Jungkook ran off to. No doubt tipping the maid to keep quiet.

Jungkook returned to his studio to pick the camera off the floor. He brings it with him as he inspects the content, shameless of the sounds of Jimin’s moans and his own praises echoing, mindlessly going to the kitchen to grab himself a trusted banana milk before bed. His eyes sparkle at the video. The touch of the elder is still fresh. Hell, he’s literally upstairs in his bed. Slowly, he saunters back towards the bedroom with a camera in hand and a banana milk straw in his mouth. His gaze lifts to see his maid stand in the hallway, trying her best to seem unfazed by the lewd sounds coming from his device. “Isn’t his voice just sweeter than any other?” Jungkook smirks at the maids reaction. Obviously nodding out of respect. “Yeah… I want to keep him,” he mutters, “Make sure there’s breakfast ready in the morning.” He pays the maid no more attention before stepping inside his bedroom with the camera turned off. He places it on the nightstand along with the empty milk container, slipping out of his robe to slide under the covers next to Jimin and immediately wrapping his strong arms around him to hold close. “Missed me?’‘

“Mhm...” Jimin’s voice tapers, already partially asleep. “Missed me , Jeon?” He pushes his ass into the curve of Jungkook’s hips and feels the heat of his groin radiating into his bare flesh. His cocky confident attitude slowly returning as the alcohol burns from his system. Yet, he’s too restless to push any further. It feels good to be a bit of a tease right before bed, but he has his limits. “I’ll dream about you...,” Jimin mumbles into the pillow, muscles relaxing and eyes falling shut, “...Sir.”

Jungkook presses his nose to Jimin’s blonde curls and inhales the scent, which is now a mix between natural musk and his own shampoo. “Sleep well, butterfly,” he whispers, hugging Jimin tight as he too feels his body ache for sleep.

After a while of just...enjoying the moment, sleep finally finds Jungkook as well.

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

[alto-march-of-death]

Congrats on 400!!! Yams + 🍍 🥺

!!! Thank you anon! I hope you enjoy this 🥺

Pairing: Yamaguchi Tadashi x gn!reader

WC: < 500

Warnings: none; just nervous Yams on a date 🥺

A/N: Funny story about pineapple being for the “saying goodbye” prompt: I’m allergic to pineapple, which is why I made it the fruit for the more angst prompt. However!! I couldn’t give my baby angst so... I went with this!

Tadashi had a million thoughts flying through his head while the two of you walked up to your front door. Did you have a good time on the date? Was the food you ordered okay, or did you just pretend to like it so that you wouldn’t feel like you were being obnoxious? When you laughed at him almost falling into the pond while playing mini golf, did you actually think it was funny, or were you laughing at the decision to come on this date with him?

You glanced over at Tadashi, smiling when you saw him fiddling with his fingers. You could tell that he was lost in his own mind, probably about if you had enjoyed the date.

Your arm looped through his elbow, pulling yourself in close to his side. He nervously looked down, swallowing when your head was laid on his shoulder.

Were you doing this simply to make him feel better? He didn’t see you as someone who would string him along, but maybe you would need a second date to decide if he was someone you wanted to pursue. Not that he would mind a second date; he’d had a great time-

“Tadashi,” you called. “We’re here. At my door, I mean.”

He blinked, dragging himself from the spiral he was caught in. “Oh. I hadn’t noticed. I guess… Well, we…” He trailed off, not able to find the words he wanted. Or, at least, not confident enough to say the ones he wanted.

“I had a great time, Tadashi.” You gave his hand a squeeze after your statement. When had your arm moved from being threaded through his elbow? It must’ve been when you got to the step. How had he missed that?

“Oh! I did too. Even if I almost fell into the pond trying to get my golf ball.” You laughed, making him smile. Some of the nervousness began to lessen. “Also, I hope the food was okay. I never did ask.”

“It was great! I’m glad you had a good time. We should…” You looked down at your feet, cheeks flushing when you looked back up at him. “We should do this again sometime. A date, if you’d like to.”

He nodded. Truly, he did, and he was glad you asked. For some reason, he couldn’t get the words out himself.

The two of you stood there for a moment in comfortable silence. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone. “I guess this is a goodbye then. Not a bad one, of course. But a goodbye for now.”

You smiled, a smile so beautiful that his stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. The door to your house opened, you waved, and the door closed. Goodbye for now sounded pretty okay to him.

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