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mythicalmaven · 9 months ago

Note

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected.

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening?

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling.

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more.

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him.

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Sequel

Masterlist

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oneofreid · 5 months ago

Text

Under the Table

Summary: Smut without any plot.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: (18+ Content) Handjob, oral with m receiving, explicit language, unprotected sex, p in v, all the good stuff, Spencer being the secret dom we all know (and don’t deny it, love), use of calling a man daddy lol, etc.

A/N: raw. next. (if you saw the first draft where i had a typo, no you didn’t) k, here’s my masterlist

“Good girl….that’s a good fucking girl.”

You moaned in response, shoving his cock even further down your throat. The enlarged veins rubbing your mouth completely raw while you gagged on his above average size. Still shocked at how such a lean, and to be honest skinny, man could fit that into his pants.

Struggling to fit all of him in, his hand grabbed a fist full of your hair to steady himself. Leaning his head back to close his eyes, clenching his jaw from the overwhelming yet exhilarating feeling of your lips wrapped around his shaft.

“Fuck, yes. Just like that, baby,” Spencer Reid moaned.

The cool marble tile of his hotel room floor making yours knees ache. Yet, you could care as you continued to swirl your tongue around his shaft, your mouth growing sore due to the weight and size of him. His cock slipping out of your mouth just before the tip only for him to thrust full force. Jamming the back of your throat while tears continuously ran down your cheeks.

His warm brown eyes never leaving your teary eyed ones. The sight of you bruising your precious knees as you took every inch of his cock sending him absolutely feral.

“You take me so well, honey,” Spencer praised, “Mouth full of me. You like that huh? I can only picture how beautiful your pussy would look wrapped around it.”

A strangled moan escaped from your mouth, your thighs already flooded with your own arousal at the thought of you bouncing on his dick. Or your legs over his shoulders as he deeply penetrated the furthest parts of you pushing you to climax.

His hand softly caressed your jaw while you stared up at him, a sight he would truly never get tired of. Seeing you submit yourself to him. His thrusts only gaining more momentum, more sloppy with every hit that it took towards the back of your throat.

Every moan that escaped from your mouth vibrating off the base of his cock. Pushing him further and further towards his own high that he chased.

Feeling one last twitch of his cock before his release spilled all over your tongue. Slowly retracting his dick from your mouth. Your eyes still completely on him as you swallowed every last bit of his cum. The bitter, yet sweet and familiar taste, lacing your throat with some relief.

Spencer brushed his thumb against your cheek, wiping the remaining tears that had fallen. Slowly collecting the saliva and left over cum that had dripped down your chin, grazing his thumb against your bottom lip while you sucked on it.

He couldn’t help but smirk, cock still at your eye level as he slowly began to pump himself. Rubbing his own hand up and down his already hardening cock. “What do you want darling?”

Growing impatient (and more needy) at the cocky and unbearable teasing man who stroked his own dick in front of you. Your thighs still completely covered in arousal as your knees continued to dig into the floor. Desperate to feel him deep inside of you. You snapped, “You know exactly what I want.”

His eyes furrowed, your heart sinking as you realized the mistake you had just made. If there was anything about Spencer Reid, he hated your sometimes spoiled and bratty attitude when you were horny.

“I would watch that pretty little mouth of yours, darling. You wouldn’t want me to give you a lesson on manners, right?” Spencer taunted.

Yanking you by the arm to stand off the floor you had grow very accustomed to within the last thirty minutes since you have arrived. Pulling you towards him in a heartbeat, his lips fiercely kissed you. Hungry to taste you, the lingering taste of his own cum still on yours. Lips melting over your own as he bit your bottom lip roughly, earning a moan from you. Slipping his tongue into yours while moving your sweaty bodies towards the bed.

The back of your knees hitting the plush white comforter before Spencer tugged you down. Hovering over top of your already naked form as he continued to pepper kisses along the side of your jaw.

Your hands roamed the chiseled muscles of his chest only to fall to palm his dick. Pumping his cock with your own hand, up and down, gripping ever so slightly as you reached towards the tip of his cock. Leaving him completely breathless while he sucked on the skin of your left breast. His tongue finding its way to circle your nipple, drawing intricate patterns.

“I need you,” you managed to get out in between the collection of moans that came from you two.

Moving yourself to straddle him, placing each of your thighs on either side of his legs. Grinding your hips forward as his erection ran slid across your slick folds.

Spencer’s breathe hitched, “You’re fucking insane.”

You had no time to respond before Spencer grabbed you by your hips to place you on your back. Placing your legs up to your chest as he centered his dick to your entrance before pushing you deep into the white plush comforter.

Giving you no time to adjust as he thrusted roughly in and out of you. Looking down at the delicious sight of your soaked cunt taking him completely whole.

Your eyes rolled towards the back of your head. Mewling at the sensation of his cock stretching your velvet walls, the tip hitting your center in spots it has never reached before. Spencer’s mix of praises and degrading remarks sending you completely over the edge.

“You like it when I fuck you like this? Yeah.”

“Who has the biggest dick? You know nobody can fuck you the way that I can, I make you feel so good”

“My dick looks so good inside of you”

“You take it so well, baby. Just one more.”

“That’s it, sweet girl. About to have you struggling to walk for days.”

“Who’s gonna be daddy’s good girl and wait till I let her come?”

Gasping for air, you struggled to regulate your breathing as your stomach tightened. The coil building as Spencer continued to pound into you. Your hands still restrained by his grip on yours as you cried out to touch him.

“Spencer, please….Please. I can’t.” You cried.

His loose hair falling over his face while his warm brown eyes stared lovingly, hungrily at your own. Another stream of his release building in his stomach as he watched you plead for him to let you come.

“I’ll tell you when to come,” he demanded. Continuing to thrust into you. At this point, you were sure you were starting to see actual stars.

Becoming a withering mess underneath him, you sobbed as you begged Spencer to let you come. The pressure that grew in your stomach becoming all too much.

“Please, Spenc-“

“I told you to wait. Now be a good fucking girl or else I’m never going to let you come.”

Your walls clenched around him causing his cock to twitch inside of you. Spencer’s thrust becoming rapid and lousy as he dipped his head down to finally press his lips onto yours.

One last moan leaving his lips as he filled you up. His cum coating your walls as his cock continued to pulse inside of you. The warm sensation dripping down your thighs.

Spencer broke apart from your heated kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, nodding at you. Giving you the approval to come around him as you ran your hand through his curls. Deepening the kiss between you two as you moaned into his mouth, finally reaching your own high. His last few thrusts sending electric shocks through your body.

His sweaty body falling on top of yours. As you both laid there, your chests heaving up and down from the sudden rush. Spencer looked up at you, reaching up to brush a few damp strands of your hair from your forehead. Placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

Lust still clouded his warm eyes as he longed into your gaze. His cock twitching for another orgasm from you, missing the feeling of your warm cunt soaking his length.

Pressing your lips to his, you moved to straddle Spencer’s lap again. Grinding your hips against his again, rubbing your palms down his broad shoulders. Slowly working your way to squeeze his triceps, his cock twitching at the touch.

Spencer sucked in a breathe, “You’re such a tease.”

Sucking in your own breathe, you began to roll your hips on his groin. Feeling him grow hard beneath you with every circular motion you made. Your pussy beginning to soak him in your arousal once more as you toyed with him.

His patience wearing thin as his hands gripped your waist. “What are you doing?”

Cutting him off before he could get an answer out of you, you pushed your lips onto his. Lifting your hips slightly while your one hand guided his tip into your entrance. Sinking down as you adjusted to his immaculate size again, a moan erupting from the both of you. The exhilarating and electric feeling of being connected once again surging through you both. You continued to bounce up and down as Spencer bottomed you out. Thrusting into you from underneath. His hands roaming to touch every part of your body, from your thighs to your breasts.

Both of you becoming a heated mess all over again as you continued to find your rhythm. Allowing yourself to explore each new angle he hit with every thrust as you bounced on top of him.

One hand against the headboard while the other gripped his shoulder for support. The coil in both of your stomachs quickly forming. A sign that you were both reaching your peak.

You watched each other intently as you both came completely undone. A combination of both of your cum dripping down your thighs and over his lap. Moaning, panting, and a spill of profanities that surely the room across could hear. Yet, you didn’t care.

Catching your breathe, you just laid there on top of Spencer with no energy to climb off of him. Finally taking time to recover before one of your many orgasms of the night. His brown eyes never once leaving yours as he traced pattens and shapes on your sides.

700 notes · View notes

yuujispunches · 1 month ago

Text

Six o'clock sharp ~ N.K.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

Summary: Gojo somehow manages to get Nanami drunk and you know it’s bad when your favourite salary man sends you an SOS but you expected chaos but not a confession.

CW (content warning): drunk Nanami, Gojo causing chaos, drunk confession, nothing else really this is mainly fluff and chaos.

AN: Hi guys! Take this as an apology for my other Nanami works, no more angst just fluffy and drunk Nanami, your welcome 😌 As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this in my phone so I’m sorry if there’re any typos/mistakes. Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

You’re halfway through brushing your teeth when your phone buzzes on the sink.

You glance at the screen, expecting a spam call or maybe Ijichi politely reminding you about a mission change. But it’s neither. It’s Nanami.

At 11:52 PM.

You freeze, foamy toothpaste threatening to escape from your mouth. Nanami Kento does not call people at 11:52 PM. Nanami Kento does not even acknowledge the existence of 11:52 PM. His world ends strictly at six o'clock.

You spit out the toothpaste and wipe your mouth before answering. “Nanami?”

There’s a pause, and then a suspiciously groggy voice murmurs. “Ah. You answered.”

You blink utterly confused. “Are you okay?”

He sighs. “Not particularly.”

“Are you hurt? Where are you? Do I need to-” You fired questions quickly, clearly worried about him.

“I’m at a bar.” He says, a little too proudly, as if it’s the most rebellious thing he’s ever done. “They made me come.”

You can hear the muffled sound of someone yelling in the background, definitely Gojo’s voice, loud and obnoxious, followed by Shoko’s unmistakable laugh.

“Oh no.” You whisper as realisation downs on you. “They got you.”

“They did.” He replies, mournful. “Shoko threatened me with a sedative.”

You wince. “That… tracks.”

“I’ve had… alcohol.” Nanami announces, like he’s confessing a grave sin to a priest.

“Clearly.” You’re trying to stifle your laugh at this point.

“You should come get me.”

Your eyebrows raise. “You want me to come get you?”

“I don’t trust Gojo.”

“Valid.”

“But I do trust you.” He adds quietly. Then, as if embarrassed by his own words, he mumbles something incoherent. “Anyway. I’m at that place with the weird squid logo. I don’t like it.”

“You went to Drunken Cephalopod? That’s where Shoko took you?! That place has drinks named things like ‘Cephalopod Squeeze’ and ‘Invertebrate Hangover.’”

“They made me drink something called ‘Tentacle Passion.’”

“Do I need to call an exorcist?”

He doesn’t answer. Just groans and you can clearly hear Gojo in the background yelling. “KENNNTOOOOO’S GETTING SOFT.”

You sigh. “Okay, I’m coming.”

“You’re… nice.” He says, and then promptly hangs up.

——————————————————————————

You arrive twenty minutes later to find the bar exactly as you imagined it: a chaotic mess of off-duty sorcerers, the smell of deep-fried food, and someone loudly trying to argue that cursed spirits are “just misunderstood.”

Nanami is slouched in a corner booth, tie loose, hair slightly ruffled, and a pink blush across his cheeks. He looks like someone who’s spent the last hour in a low-level existential crisis and only survived because someone shoved a cocktail into his hand every fifteen minutes. Which was probably what happened.

“Hi.” You say, approaching carefully, like he’s a wounded animal that might bolt.

Nanami lifts his head slowly. His eyes light up when he sees you. “You came.”

“Of course I came. You sounded like someone drugged you with sake and made you watch Gojo do karaoke.”

“He did do karaoke.” Nanami mutters darkly, as if he was reminiscing on something deeply traumatic. “It was Bon Jovi.”

“Oh god.”

“He pointed at me during the ‘shot through the heart’ part.”

You try not to laugh, but it escapes in a snort. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Before he can move, Gojo suddenly appears, sliding into the booth beside Nanami like an overly caffeinated gremlin. “Heyyyy, look who showed up! You’re here for your emotionally constipated work husband?”

“I’m here to rescue your victim, yes.”

Nanami frowns. “I am not emotionally constipated.”

Shoko appears next, holding what looks like her sixth beer. “He kind of is. But it’s endearing.”

You tug on Nanami’s arm. “Let’s go before they start singing again.”

He doesn’t resist. In fact, he leans on you.

Heavily.

“Oh wow.” You mutter, bracing yourself as you rey yo Keep your balance and prevent Nanami from face planting into the floor. “You’re not even a little sober, are you?”

“I'm fine.” He insists, voice muffled against your shoulder, sounding almost offended before his voice softens again. “You smell nice.”

You freeze.

Behind you, Gojo cackles. “Oh this is gold. Someone record this.”

“You’re drunk.” You mutter, steering Nanami toward the exit.

“Yes.” He agrees solemnly. “But not hallucinating. You really do smell good.”

You glance back, and Shoko gives you two thumbs up before pretending to puke into her beer.

——————————————————————————

Once you get him to your car and buckle him in like a fussy toddler, Nanami slumps into the seat with a sigh.

“This is undignified.” He grumbles.

“You called me for help, besides you lost the right to dignity when you drank something called ‘Tentacle Passion.’”

He winces. “It was fruity.”

“I don’t want to know.”

There’s a long pause as you start the car. Then, softly, he says. “I’m glad it was you.”

You glance at him. “Huh?”

“I didn’t want anyone else to come.”

The words are quieter than before, as if he’s falling asleep mid-sentence. But there’s something tender in his tone, something that tugs at your chest in an unfamiliar way.

You say nothing. Just drive, trying to convince yourself that it was just the forbidden fruity drink talking. That didn’t stop your heart from hammering inside your chest though.

——————————————————————————

You manage to get Nanami into your apartment with only minor difficulties, mostly involving him insisting on taking off his shoes “properly” then forgetting halfway through and staring at them like they’ve wronged him.

He’s sitting on your couch now, tie undone, hair floppier than usual, brows furrowed in sleepy confusion as he examines the decorative pillow in his lap like it’s a cursed object.

“You’re going to feel so gross tomorrow.” You say partly amused, bringing him a glass of water.

“Don’t remind me.”

You hand him the glass. He takes it like it’s a sacred offering, cradles it in both hands, and blinks up at you with a grateful expression that makes your heart do something unprofessional.

He doesn’t drink it. He just holds it.

“You know…” He says slowly. “You have a very… soothing apartment.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It’s got two pieces of IKEA furniture and a plant that’s currently dying.”

“Yes. Peaceful.” He leans his head back against the couch cushion. “Like a cave, but cleaner.”

“You think that’s a compliment?”

“For me? Yes.”

You sit on the edge of the coffee table, watching him. He’s flushed, his posture is loose, too loose for his usual mannerisms, and his usual precise speech has softened around the edges. The Nanami Kento you know is meticulous, almost severe in his discipline. This version? This version is warm and slouchy and entirely too affectionate for your emotional wellbeing.

“I should’ve taken a video for blackmail.” You muse aloud.

He groans. “Please don’t. Gojo would make it a ringtone.”

There’s a beat of silence before he adds, voice a little quieter. “He said I needed to ‘lighten up.’”

You snort. “So their plan was to get you smashed and emotionally compromised?”

“Apparently.” He shifts, letting the pillow slide off his lap and onto the floor. “It’s exhausting. This… all of it. Sorcerer life. Constant death. Even Shoko, who jokes all the time, has seen more than anyone should.”

You blink. That was… heavier than expected.

You ease into a seat beside him. “You okay?”

He exhales slowly, shoulders sinking. “I don’t know. Maybe. Just… tired. I think I’m always tired.”

You glance over at him. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes long, the curve of his mouth soft in a way it rarely is when he’s sober. He doesn’t look tired. He looks... open. Vulnerable. Like a wall’s come down you never realized he kept so high.

“I don’t blame you.” You say gently. “It’s a lot. And you carry too much of it alone.”

He turns to look at you, slow and deliberate. Then, all of a sudden, he frowns.

“You’re always kind to me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes-No. I… I don’t know but it’s… dangerous.”

You blink. “I- what?”

“You’re dangerous.” He says again, more stubbornly, as if what he was saying made all the sense in the world. “Because when you’re kind, I think I might start hoping. And that’s worse than cursed spirits.”

You stare at him. He stares back.

Then, abruptly, he slumps forward and his forehead lands directly on your shoulder with a solid thump.

“Nanami-!”

“I am… resting.” He mumbles.

“You’re using me as a pillow.”

“You’re an excellent pillow.”

“You’re going to regret everything you’re saying tomorrow.”

“Mmm.” He nuzzles into your shoulder. “I regret nothing.”

Your heart is trying very hard to climb into your throat.

You let him stay there, because he’s warm and clearly too drunk to move. Also because you’re a little afraid that if you shift, he’ll say something else like “you smell like hope” or “I’d die for you” and your central nervous system will just shut down.

But instead, he sighs. “Why are you always the one I want to call?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“You’re my first thought.” He says simply. “Whenever something happens. Good or bad.”

You don’t move. You doubt you were even breathing at that point.

“I don’t think I realized how deep it went until tonight.” He adds. “Until I was drunk and stupid and wanted to be near you more than anything.”

You’re 90% sure this is a hallucination. Or a genjutsu. Wrong franchise, but still.

Then he says something, very softly. “I like you. Too much.”

Your brain blue-screens.

You sit frozen on the couch, Nanami half-asleep on your shoulder, blissfully unaware that he just casually tore open your ribcage and planted a bomb where your heart used to be.

Did he really just say he likes you? Too much? You think as you turn your head slightly to look at him.

He’s completely relaxed now. Eyes closed, lips parted slightly in sleep, his breath slow and warm against your collarbone. He’s practically draped over you, and if it were anyone else, you’d be tempted to shove them off. But it’s him. And the truth is, you don’t want to move.

You also don’t want to believe any of this.

Because if it’s the alcohol talking… if he wakes up tomorrow and doesn’t remember, or worse, regrets it…

Well. That would hurt more than any curse ever could.

Still, there’s something oddly comforting about this moment. Like the world has paused for just a second and let you peek behind the curtain of Nanami Kento. The real one. Not the stoic salaryman exorcist, but the man underneath, tired and careful and too full of feelings he doesn’t know how to carry.

You gently brush a bit of hair from his forehead and whisper. “I like you too, you idiot.”

Of course, he chooses that exact moment to mutter, “You’re warm. Don’t move.”

You laugh under your breath. “You’re basically a weighted blanket. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.”

——————————————————————————

When morning comes, Nanami wakes up with the intensity of a man realizing he's made several poor life choices the night before.

He sits bolt upright on your couch, disheveled and groggy, blinking at the glass of water on the table and the blanket draped over his lap like they’ve appeared via cursed technique.

You’re in the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and making coffee like it’s just another Tuesday, which it is. Except for the part where Nanami confessed to having disturbingly tender feelings for you while wine-drenched and emotionally compromised.

“Oh no.” He says out loud, mortified.

“Morning.” You chirp, entirely too casual.

He squints at you. “How drunk was I?”

You hand him a mug of coffee. “You told me I smell like hope.”

He lets out a strangled noise.

“You also used me as a human pillow.”

“I see.”

“And confessed to liking me.”

His eyes widen behind his glasses.

You sip your own coffee. “Too much, I believe were your words.”

Nanami stares into his cup like it might contain the answers to life, the universe, and how to rewind time.

“I see.” He repeats.

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to take it back?”

There’s a long pause. So long you start to feel nervous.

Then, he speaks quietly, but clearly. “No. I don’t.”

Your breath catches.

“I meant what I said.” He continues, setting the mug down. “I like you. Not just in the soft, platonic way. In the ‘I think about you too much and care about you more than is reasonable’ way.”

You blink. “That’s… a lot of words for someone hungover.”

“I have regrets.” He says. “But not about you. Just about the whole karaoke thing.”

You laugh. He looks at you like it’s his favorite sound in the world.

“I was planning on saying something eventually.” He admits. “I just didn’t expect it to be slurred and with Gojo being partially involved in it.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” You say with mock cheer. “He’s already texted me three times this morning with quotes. And memes.”

Nanami makes a noise of utter despair.

“He called you ‘Simpnami.’”

Another groan.

You move to sit beside him on the couch again. This time, you’re both a little more aware of how close you are and neither of you pulls away.

“You know…” You trail off softly, “for a guy who’s always talking about professionalism, you’re surprisingly good at romantic declarations.”

He gives you a sideways look. “That was not a romantic declaration.”

“It kind of was.”

“I called you a pillow.”

“An excellent pillow.” You point out as if it made all the difference.

He huffs. “Please never repeat that.”

You grin, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss him.

It’s soft. Gentle. Just a press of lips, like a question.

He answers by cupping your cheek, thumb brushing your skin, and deepening it ever so slightly, still tender, still careful, like he’s learning the shape of this new thing between you with reverent hands.

When you pull back, his expression is a little dazed.

“You’re even better at that than declarations.” You murmur.

He clears his throat. “Noted.”

——————————————————————————

Back at the school, Gojo is waiting with a smug grin and a T-shirt that says “Team Nanami’s Hot Mess Era” in neon bubble letters.

Shoko claps slow and sarcastic when she sees you both walk in together.

Nanami looks like he’s calculating how many crimes he’d need to commit to flee the country.

“You two are glowing.” Gojo says way too enthusiastically, the grin on his face matching that of an absolute sociopath.

“Drop it.” Nanami warns.

“Oh, I’d never.” Gojo wiggles his eyebrows. “I just think it’s cute that you finally got a life outside your nine-to-six martyr complex.”

Nanami sighs. You press a hand to his back, stifling your laughter.

“Don’t worry.” You whisper. “You’re still terrifying. Just… slightly emotionally available now.”

“Wonderful.” He mutters.

But his hand brushes yours on the way out, a subtle gesture meant just for you. And even with Gojo singing “Shot Through the Heart” again in the background, everything suddenly feels lighter.

Like maybe six o’clock sharp doesn’t have to be the end of his day anymore. Maybe, with you, it can be the beginning of something better.

——————————————————————————

Nanami doesn’t kiss you again until four days later. Not because he doesn’t want to. In fact, he very clearly does. You catch him looking at you often now, eyes lingering a little too long, lips twitching like they want to say something meaningful but the moment passes before he lets them.

No, the delay isn’t about doubt. It’s about precision. Nanami doesn’t do things impulsively. Even when he’s accidentally confessing under the influence of a drink named after sea creatures, he somehow makes it poetic. That’s just who he is.

So when he shows up at your door after work on Friday , six o’clock sharp, of course, with a bouquet of shockingly tasteful flowers and a bottle of wine he swears is not from the Drunken Cephalopod, you know something’s up.

“You’re either here to propose or kill me.” You joke as you let him in.

“Neither.” He says. “Though I do appreciate your morbid sense of humor.”

He sets the flowers down on your kitchen counter and gives you a look that could melt steel.

“I’m here” He says. “to properly ask you on a date. A sober, intentional, well-planned date. With no cursed cocktails, and absolutely no Gojo.”

“That last part is crucial.”

“I thought so.”

You lean against the counter, smiling. “Okay, Mr. Intentional. Where would this theoretical date take place?”

He actually pulls out a folded list from his jacket pocket. “I did some research.”

You laugh. “Of course you did.”

“According to my sources, a café with low ambient noise and limited foot traffic would be ideal for uninterrupted conversation. Also, they serve excellent pastries.”

“Let me guess. Your source was Shoko?”

He hesitates. “Tengen, actually.”

You pause. “Tengen?”

“I didn’t ask directly. I asked Ijichi, who asked someone else, who apparently-”

“You crowdsourced our date venue.”

“It was efficient.”

You want to tease him. Really, you do. But the earnestness in his face makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“Okay.” You say. “Pastries and low ambient noise sound perfect.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for four days. “Good.”

——————————————————————————

The date is, of course, perfect.

He’s polite and charming and still slightly awkward in a way that’s so deeply Nanami it makes you want to pinch his cheeks and ruin his whole stoic aesthetic.

At one point, you catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, a soft, rare smile tugging at his lips.

“What?” You ask, trying not to blush.

“I’m wondering if I get to do this more than once.”

You pretend to think. “Hmm… I guess that depends on whether you ever let me pick the venue.”

“Absolutely not. Gojo might sabotage it.”

“True.”

He sets his cup down and leans in slightly. “I wasn’t exaggerating the other night. I really do think about you too much.”

Your heart stutters.

“I think that’s allowed now.” You whisper.

He nods. “Good. Because I don’t want to stop.”

——————————————————————————

By the following week, it’s an open secret.

Utahime just smiles knowingly when she sees you both arrive to a mission together. Shoko pretends to be scandalized, but hands Nanami a pack of gum with a smirk and speaks. “For when you start making out behind convenience stores like teenagers.”

Gojo is the worst.

“Hey, lovebirds!” He yells across the courtyard one day. “Need me to officiate yet? I already picked out my robe!”

Nanami doesn’t respond. He just grabs your hand and walks away like he didn’t hear anything. You follow without protest.

“You know…” You say after a beat. “he’s not going to stop.”

“I know.”

“He’s going to be so much worse when we move in together.”

Nanami stops walking.

You freeze. “I mean-! Hypothetically! Someday! In the distant, really distant-”

He squeezes your hand. “I’d like that.”

You blink.

He looks at you with that same warm, unreadable expression he wears when evaluating cursed spirits. Except he is softer, gentler. “When the time is right.”

You try not to beam like an idiot. Fail spectacularly.

——————————————————————————

A few days later, after a long mission and a longer nap at his place, you find yourself in his bed, tangled up in sheets and warmth and the quiet comfort of someone who finally lets himself rest when you’re near.

“You know what’s weird?” You murmur into his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“This all started because you got drunk.”

He chuckles low in his chest. “I was emotionally ambushed.”

“By alcohol?”

“By Gojo, which is worse.”

You hum in agreement.

“But I was lucky.” He adds after a moment.

“Because you didn’t end up vomiting on my couch?”

“No.” He tilts his head, brushes his lips against your forehead. “Because you came.”

You press your face into his chest, smiling like a fool. “Of course I did.”

“And you stayed.”

“You made that part pretty easy.”

He pulls you closer. “I should get drunk more often.”

You snort. “Don’t you dare.”

He laughs again, soft and fond, and the sound settles deep in your chest like a secret only you get to keep.

You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and warm beneath your cheek, and think that maybe six o’clock sharp isn’t the end of the day after all. Maybe it’s the beginning of home.

Tags: @pickledsoda @noooo-onee @hawkwithsocks

Taglist is open so if you want to be added for future works let me know! :)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk fic #nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #kento x reader #jjk kento #nanami kento fluff

329 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 5 months ago

Text

Tormented Spirit | 16

Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, violence, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: guys we're just gonna roll with the fact daemon knows how to braid hair realllly well ok stfu. also ASHFOASF long time no see i hope you enjoyyy!!!!!! | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

You find it hard to dress yourself for your clothes were far too heavy for you. What's more, they looked like they were eating you alive with how much weight you've lost. Your sister offered to have new dresses commissioned for you, but the moment your father caught wind of it, he made sure to send away any tailor that would fit you, insisting that you would regain your weight. You only did after Aegon was born, but as it remains, you look odd in your ill-fitting garbs.

By the time you are finished dressing yourself, you stare at your reflection. Black suited you, you think... it made the little color that remained on your face pop up.

Daemon emerges from the bathroom as you were about to fix your hair. His tresses looked tangled in its dripping state. A towel covered his belly and thighs, skin still damp. And his skin, his skin was burned. Were once you remembered both faint and deep cuts rested, now rested there was thick and textured marks.

"Dae-" you start but immediately stop when he heads straight towards his closet, hastily moving to dress himself.

You fidget with your fingers, unsure if you ought to help, approach, or even speak. You stare at him, hoping he'd acknowledge you. He doesn't.

You sigh and slowly walk to your vanity, though your eyes remain on him. He spares you a look, immediately looking away when he catches you staring. He puts on his breeches and pulls his towel off. He ties its laces, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It wasn't. In fact, it was not even an easy feat, as his hands were trembling.

You don't notice that exactly, but you do notice his frantic movements which were so unlike him. You wonder if it was consequence war, and you find yourself pretending not to notice in case it was the case. The last thing you wanted was to trigger him today of all days. You wanted the day you send off your children to be peaceful for the both of you.

You walk sit before your mirror, eyes on your reflection as you comb your hair. Your gaze keeps flickering back to Daemon though.

He notices, and can hardly bare it. He haphazardly puts on his dress shirt then grabs his doublet, pacing across the room. He shudders as he chucks his towel on the bed. He huffs and leans on the table where an ewer of wine laid. He chucks his top on the surface beside it and pours himself a drink.

His aim is poor. Red sputters on the table due to his shaky grip. He nearly makes the cup overflow, but manages to control himself. Quickly, the prince downs the alcohol, but it seems to do nothing for his nerves, and absolutely nothing for the maddening nightmare that was torturing him so greatly.

In truth, he did not know if he quivered out of fear or anger because of it. He did not know which part haunted him more, the fact that his subconscious thought this up, or the fact that it might be true.

He gasps when he hears his name. He sets his cup down with a thud and turns over his shoulder. He scratches his eyes as he looks at you, face shining though your brows were furrowed.

"A-are... are you-"

"It's nothing," he quips, stuffing his dress shirt into his trousers.

You shift on your chair to face him and frown, "Daemon."

He freezes, jaw clenching with an unwillingness to confess what was torturing him.

You see his steely gaze and his tensed shoulders. You knew better than to pursue an uncomfortable conversation with him right now, so you lower your gaze and slowly shake your head, "I... I simply wanted to ask if you would help braid my hair."

He freezes, "what?"

"I thought it would be good to-"

Daemon grabs his doublet and hastily wears it, nearly sprinting towards you.

"- have you..." your breath hitches. You look at him through his reflection as he comes behind you, "... do it in the fashion of your house."

His hands tremble as he reaches for your hair.

"... if... it pleases you."

"It pleases me," he blurts, stroking your hair, "thank you."

You shake my head and sigh, "I-... thank you." You lower your gaze to your hands, "might I write while you do this?"

Daemon's brows furrow as you apprehensively turn to him. He shakes his head but then nods, "o... of course."

You watch him reach for the comb.

He feels its weight before shaking his head again, "wh... to whom?"

"My twin," you say simply, opening the drawer to pull out some parchment and ink. Your eyes slowly look at his reflection as you get your quill and shut the drawer.

Daemon nods. He grips the comb and shrugs. He shakes his head before gathering your locks and brushing through it. He clenches his teeth, trying not to sound so sour as he speaks. He fails, "you write to him oft?"

You nearly tell him everyday, but you change it to: "yes."

He notices that you had two pieces of parchment on your table. He cannot help the jealousy that blooms at the idea of you writing long letters for him. "Much to say, have you?"

Your eyes flicker up to him.

Daemon does not look at you as he parts your hair and begins braiding.

"What?"

"You have two pieces of parchment."

"Oh..." you look back to the table, not thinking he'd notice, "the other is for Laenor."

He freezes.

"I do not write to him as oft," you mutter.

Daemon cannot help the sound he makes. His breath hitches as he gathers your dark hair into his fingers. He chuckles rather manically, "of course."

You decide not to reply. You simply leave him to his work as you work on your letters.

You finish writing your letters before he finishes fixing your hair. Daemon watches you fold the notes neatly and prepare wax to seal them off. Part of him wishes to enquire what you have to say to those wretched men, but another part knows he might regret it. Surely, to your brother at least, you would air out your grievances. The prince does not know if he could stomach the knowledge you'd express your hatred for him with someone else.

You melt wax over a candle and seal the letter with your stamp. He watches you do this, and as he does, he imagines all the times you did the same for his letters. He wonders if you did so with the same ease. He wonders if you paid it littler or more attention than this. He wonders if he'd ever be at the receiving end of your affections ever again.

When he gets to the last part of the last braid, he finds himself unwilling to pin it in place with the rest for your hair. He stares at his work, at the interwoven plaits going down your shoulders. He tucks some stray hair behind your ear, so badly wishing he could kiss you.

Perhaps he could, but then you'd push him away. He would not survive.

Finally, he pins the last part of your hair and slowly withdraws his hands, "it is done."

You immediately come to stand and turn to him.

Daemon watches as you look at his unbuttoned doublet. His stomach drops when you begin to fasten them.

"Shall I braid your h-"

"No," he blurts, shaking his head, "I do not want you to touch me."

You freeze, unsure if you heard him correctly. You slowly pull away, "you... you don't want me to touch you?"

"No," he shakes his head.

You knit your brows and nods slowly, "I see... why?"

"Why?" he whispers, as if he was stabbed, "why does it matter? Do you want to touch me?"

"I... I want to be civil with you."

His nostrils flare as he chuckles dryly.

"I do not want to be at war with you."

"But we are!" Daemon blurts, "love is war."

"Says who?" you knit your brows.

"Says my bleeding heart," he mutters, as he fixes his doublet himself. His eyes begin to water, so he turns away.

You feel your throat tighten. You shrug, "is this your way of saying you love me?"

"I have always loved you," he turns back to you, tears staining his cheeks.

You laugh.

He rarely hears such a sound from your lips and seems to hate it. "Mazemā nyke syt iā pirtirys?" he mutters under his breath. You take me for a liar.

You chuckle again and shake your head. You shrug, "mazeman ao syt iā mittys." I take you for a fool.

Daemon lowers his head.

You nearly reach out for him, but then you remember he does not invite your touch. You turn to the door then back to him, "let us be civil today."

"No," he lifts his gaze, walking to the vanity. He grabs a hair tie and does his hair, "I want a peace treaty."

"What?"

"The Stranger has scratched my skin in the Stepstones. I know better than to believe civility can be achieved between your enemies."

You laugh again, but this time, it is far unbearable. It is loud and anxious and broken. You clutch your chest when you begin to feel it tighten, "and I am your enemy, Daemon?"

"Daor," he says desperately. He grabs your arms and rapidly shakes his head, "dōrī ao.... yn nyke." No. Never you... but I.

You stare at him as he slowly pulls away.

"I have become your enemy whether either of us care to admit it or not," he shakes his head as he turns to his feet, "I cannot reconcile my mistakes; I can ask only for a peace treaty."

You rub your forehead as you lean on your chair, "I do not understand."

"You-" he chokes. He clears his throat, "you say look at me and see only grief and loss." He wipes his face, "I do not want it to be so."

You huff and shake your head, "it is not something you can change."

"Not if you don't let me," Daemon mutters, "kostilus..." he shakes his head, "ivestragon nyke skorkydoso olvie yno kostā mōzugon gō ao pykagon nyke hen." He scratches his eyes before looking at you. Please... tell me how much of me you can drink before you spit me out.

"Daemon."

He looks at you, violet eyes shrouded by pink.

"I..." you shake your head, "don't know."

He sighs, "plea-"

"I'm telling you, I don't know."

He sighs again, shaking his head then nodding it, "sȳz." Fine.

You watch him step back and motion to the door.

"After you."

You stare at him for a moment and grip your skirts tightly in your hands. You draw a deep breath before walking off.

When you open the door, you hear the clanking of steel. You see Arryk and Erryk stationed outside your door.

"Princess," they greet in unison.

You frown at them, "Erryk... Arryk."

Arryk's eyes rather unwillingly catch sight of Daemon walking towards you. He clenches his jaw and steps aside, not wanting to see him. Erryk ignores him altogether as he reaches a hand for you, "will we be heading for the solar to break fast?"

You shake your head and push his hands down.

Erryk's jaw feathers as Daemon comes to your side.

Daemon's gaze remains lowered. He mutters softly, "kesan bartos naejot se ripo," before slipping past you and walking off.

Erryk eyes him hotly where Arryk turns to you, giving you a wary look, "what did he say?"

You shake your head and offer a smile, "he said he'll be going to the pit."

Arryk simultaneously thinks how fortunate and cowardly it was that Daemon will be flying off. Erryk says it out loud, "so, he's leaving on Caraxes?"

You rub your belly, "we will be sending our Alaeric and Alyrie off."

The twins freeze.

"I do not know if Daemon spoke to the maesters about it already," you mutter, "would one of you go and check. I... I do not want to see them... not like that."

"I can go," Arryk nods.

You nod rapidly and offer a smile, "thank you."

Just as his brother leaves, Erryk reaches a hand out to you again, "perhaps you ought to break fast."

You shake your head, finally taking his hand, "I... I will be sick."

His brows furrow, "you must promise me you will eat something after then."

"Erryk-"

The shake of his head cuts you off.

You take a deep breath, "you know it is hard."

"Then perhaps you can eat with the prince."

Your eyes widen at the idea.

It takes a moment for Erryk to realize why and he quickly dispels the thought, "Aegon. With your nephew, the prince."

You heave and shake your head.

His jaw tightens, "I would never im-"

"I know," you raise a hand, "I just... I misunderstood. Forgive me."

His nostrils flare, "there is no world in which you could ever do something that offends me."

You come to life when you reach Aegon's quarters. The boy immediately runs towards you. You smile and lean down. He jumps into your arms and you tenderly pick him up, sealing him into a hug

"Aunt!" he beams, clutching your cheeks.

"My boy," you coo, embracing him fondly.

Aegon giggles, his little arms wrapping around you. You remain like this for a moment before he pulls away and grins, clutching your cheeks again, "play!"

You kiss his forehead, "actually, we're going to go outside today."

Aegon blinks, his silver lashes fluttering, "play?"

You rock him in your arms, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

He gasps.

"Gaomagon jaelā naejot ūndegon iā zaldrīzes?" Do you want to see a dragon?

"KESSA. KESSA!" Aegon cheers in agreement.

With this, you head to your sister's chambers and tell her of your plans for today. Alicent offers you a solemn expression before giving you a hug. She says she will change and inform the king. You then head off to the last person you wished to invite.

"Come in," his voice is deep.

Aegon leans into you as Erryk opens the door. You step into the Hand's office and nod at your father, "hello, my lord."

Otto lifts his gaze from his desk and furrows his brows, "what's happened?"

You shake your head as he slowly comes to a stand. You rub Aegon's back, "nothing... I... I've told Daemon about the twins."

He tenses at the thought, eyes turning to Erryk, who stood just by the door.

"We will be sending them off now."

Sending them off? Otto relaxes when he realizes who you actually meant. He nods and walks towards you. He places a hand on your shoulder, "I am glad."

You gulp as you look at him, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

The walk is long and quiet, save for the babbling of Aegon. He was rather fond of his grandfather's pin, and reached out to it every time Otto got close enough to.

"No," Otto would quip each time, raising a brow at the boy.

Aegon, none the wiser, would giggle, thinking it was a game.

At some point, the old man had to surrender his pin denoting his status to the boy when he managed to get pull on it. With a sigh, he hands it to his grandson.

You immediately pull it away from Aegon when he tries to eat it. You quip with a raised brow, "no."

The sight of your babies on a pyre sends a chill down your spine. The maesters and Arryk are already there, waiting for the rite to commence. The sight is too much, thus why you fix your eyes on Aegon.

Otto notices your discomfort and comes to your side, blocking your view of the pyre with his back. He turns to one of your wards, then the other. He motions with his head, wordlessly beckoning them over.

Erryk and Arryk oblige.

"It would be best if my daughter have this moment with her husband," Otto says, "stay back unless called upon."

Arryk clenches his jaw and Erryk purses his lips. Regardless, they nod and speak in unison, "my lord."

Soon, the king, the queen, and the crown princess arrive. It's rather fitting, for right after, there is a loud screech in the sky. Aegon immediately reacts, gasping as his hands fly up to cover his ears. A flash of red soars overhead.

The poor boy is overwhelmed by the sound of beating wings and begins to clamor and panic. You do your best to calm him and instinctively turn to your sister, finding her clutching her swollen belly in worry. You debate whether you should hand her Aegon, but you decide to try and calm the boy, not wanting to strain her by making her carry the boy.

You turn to my father, who wipes his grandson's cheeks and strokes his head.

You kiss Aegon's cheeks and rock him, beginning to sing, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red— shhh it's alright."

Caraxes soon lands before the pyre and screeches.

Aegon joins suit, screaming into you shoulder as he clings onto me for dear life.

Daemon sees this, jaw clenching at the sight. He watches Otto block Aegon's view of Caraxes, muttering something to the boy. He watches his sister come forward to calm the boy. He watches you rock him. The Hightowers are unified because of his brother's son. He unsaddles himself from Caraxes.

"DAOR!" Viserys screams, just as the blood wyrm cranes his head dangerously close to you. Rhaenyra gasps as he watches Caraxes seemingly try to attack. The king steps forward, repeating the command, making Caraxes pull his long neck back and screech back in offense.

Aegon shrieks in terror of the loud noise.

The king does not flinch, but he does turn to Daemon, "visagon aōha dyni, valonqar!" Control your beast, (younger) brother.

Daemon calls out to Caraxes, ordering him to calm and obey. He soon is on the ground, marching towards his dragon's head, "gīda ilagon!" He raises his hands, "gīda ilagon." Calm down.

Caraxes huffs through his nostrils.

Aegon wails into your shoulder.

The dragon screeches again.

Daemon grits his teeth, looking over his shoulder. He turns to you then his brother, "visagon aōha tresy." Control your son.

Upon hearing this, you glare at Daemon, "he's just a babe!"

Caraxes bleats at the sound of your voice.

"Do not be so defensive. A babe's wailing is meant to be annoying," Daemon rebuts.

"Here," Alicent mutters, taking Aegon from you.

"Ali-"

"It's alright, sister," she turns to you, kissing her boy, "I can manage." She turns to Otto, "might I have your arm, father?"

Otto obliges.

The two walk off, enough that Caraxes was not so close. You can't help but glare at the beast, though you knew any irritation you had towards him was irrational, as he was just a dragon and Aegon was just a boy.

Caraxes cranes over to you again, letting out another loud noise.

Both Daemon and Viserys call out to the beast, expecting the worst from him. Even Arryk and Erryk, who was watched from afar, grip their swords involuntarily and find themselves stepping closer as Caraxes pushes his snout into you.

Caraxes does nothing perilous but does huff. Still, it garners a corrective command from his rider, who comes in front of you

The beast makes a displeased sound, baring his teeth, frightening Aegon yet again. The sound of the boy's cries make you snap, "lyka, Caraxes," you call out, "skoros gaomā?" Quiet, Caraxes. What are you doing?

Daemon turns to you then Caraxes, calling him to obey.

Viserys watches his brother gaze upon you. He watches Daemon take your hand and reach it out towards his ride. His lips part as Caraxes leans into your joined hands. He turns back to his wife and frowns at the sight of his red faced boy. It was clear Aegon was frightened for you with how he was reached his hand in your direction.

The king sighs and comes to him, taking the boy into his arms. Rhaenyra watches his father rock his half-brother. He watches the boy sigh into his arms. She looks away, focus back to Caraxes.

Daemon leans against Caraxes. He mutters softly to him as he presses your hand into the dragon's snout. The beast is finally calm. You feel the warmth of his scales and you wonder if he'd eat you now that you were no longer carrying his rider's children.

Daemon topples back as Caraxes pushes into him, hard enough to brush against you. You gasp when he nudges your chest.

Your husband recognizes the affection and finds himself unable to bridle his own. He pulls you into his chest, pretending it was out of concern— to keep you upright. He presses his arm against yours, his palm resting on the back of your hand. He links his fingers into yours and rests your joined hands atop Caraxes, whispering, "he missed you."

You chuckle, looking over your shoulder to Daemon, "that's not possible."

Daemon leans his forehead against yours and you immediately look away. Though the sentiment hurt, he looks back at his mount and persists, "yet it's true."

Caraxes huffs and begins to curl before you. He then lies down, shaking his head as he did.

Daemon's eyes turn to the pyre, throat tightening at the sight of the two small bodies, wrapped up in cloth. It was no longer white, as time brought a brownish hue to it.

You look at him when he withdraws his hand. You watch his jaw clench as he looks to the distance. You pull away to place a hand on his rib, "do you want to go closer?"

His hand comes atop yours. For a moment, you remember how he said he didn't want your touch, but instead of pushing you away, he squeezes you. His lowers his head and licks his lips, "I am unworthy."

You face him fully. You shake your head and fix his collar, "you are their father."

You entire body seems to react when he speaks your name. Your shoulders tense. Your breath hitches. Your eyes water.

He watches you intently. He takes your hands and clutches by his chest. He frowns and leans closer, daring to press his forehead into you again.

You let him. You close your eyes and let him press against you. Tears rush down your cheeks.

"Would they have liked me?" Daemon whispers.

You chuckle bitterly, eyes opening. You see that his face is just as teary as yours. You sniffle and shake your head, "the gods only know."

Daemon wipes his nose on his sleeve.

You both walk towards the pyre. Caraxes lifts his head to look down upon you. Daemon frowns when he sees just how tiny the bodies are. He notices then they smell like the oil you put on yourself, albeit mustier. He cares little about the unpleasant undertone and presses a kiss on both their bodies.

When he pulls away, he takes deep breath and mutters, "kepa iksis kesīr, Alaeric se Alyrie... shijetra nyke... geros ilas." Father is here, Alaeric and Alyrie... forgive me... good bye.

Daemon turns to you, his hold on you tightening, "gaomagon emā mirros naejot ivestragon?" Do you have anything to say?

You step forward, biting your lips as gaze upon your babes. You release Daemon, immediately bursting into tears. You reach out to them one last time, lips trembling, "I wish you knew how much I love you."

You nearly topple back as you pull away.

Daemon reaches for you, one hand on your arm, the other on your back. He rests his head on yours, his voice is pained as he mutters, "they know," he shakes his head and presses a kiss on your ear. He whispers, "everyone knows."

You crumble. You turn to him and sob into his chest.

He wraps his arms around you, stroking your hair. He calls out your name, "I'm here now."

You whine.

"It would take sword and flame to sever me from you."

When you were calm enough, Daemon leads you off. He is vigilant of his surroundings but more importantly, you. By the time you and him stand far away enough, Caraxes inspects the pyre before him. He sniffs it and shakes his head. He cranes his neck back, looking at his master. They share a silent understanding.

Daemon has his arm around you as you continue to weep into his chest. He rubs your shoulder, looking down upon you, "would you like to give the command?"

You sniffle and look up to him, "what?"

He turns to Caraxes, who is already stood in attention rather knowingly, "I think he would obey if you commanded."

You shake your head, turning to Caraxes, "I do not want to." You face the pyre, wiping your face, "I've given them their sorrowful beginning. I do not wish to give them their sorrowful end."

Daemon clenches his jaw, "very well." He rubs your shoulders, "when you're ready."

You sigh, leaning into him, "I will never be."

He does not reply. He does, however, squeeze your shoulders.

You turn to him, a line between your brows, "when you're ready, Daemon."

He turns to you just as you look forward. He sniffles and turns to his mount, "Caraxes."

Caraxes rumbles.

The prince takes a deep breath, eyes fixed upon his children, "dracarys."

You gasp at the burn of the flames. The fire is so bright, it's like the sun stops shining for a moment. It's fitting, for that is what it felt to lose them. Warmth cascades across the ground. Caraxes screeches upon finishing his task. Aegon weeps again.

Daemon takes you back to the Keep on dragonback. He is grateful you agreed, though he knows it was more because you felt too weak to walk, rather than the fact you wanted to keep his company.

When he arrives at the pit, Caraxes squawks in recognition of the dragon that seemed to have just arrived, judging by the amount of servants and dragon keepers around.

When you land, hear a voice call for you and you look, not recognizing the voice. Daemon does, just as he recognizes the dragon.

Daemon dismounts and helps you down. You hear your name called out again, "who-"

"Princess!"

Your lips part as you turn to see the young man running towards you. You recognize him solely from his hair, "Laenor?"

Daemon eyes the boy as he bows. He eyes the flowers in his hand. Quickly, his eyes are averted back to you when you begin to weep.

Laenor is mortified. He nearly drops the bouquet as he calls out your name.

"Forgive me," you wipe your face and shake your head, "it is good to see you," you say, breaking into a soft chuckle, "to finally meet you."

Laenor gives a half-hearted smile as he nods, "it is good to meet you, though... I hear you have just come from the pyre."

You sniffle and nod, linking your hands together, "yes... I... we-" you turn to Daemon, "put our children to rest."

Laenor nods slowly, looking between the two of you, "my deepest condolences princess, prince."

You turn to him, finding he was offering you pink flowers.

"Bougainvillea," says the young lord, "I thought to bring you flowers since you wrote of picking them oft."

Your lips wobble and you sob even more.

Daemon clenches his jaw, reaching out to you.

He doesn't reach you though, as soon, you've thrown yourself into Laenor's arms.

The Velaryon yelps in surprise but naturally returns your affections.

"Thank you," you mutter, squeezing him tightly.

He chuckles, matching the intensity of your embrace, "it's nothing really, I saw some on my way. I'm glad you appreciate it."

When you pull away, Laenor catches the withering glare Daemon was shooting his way. He widens his eyes, only because he dares not to roll them, then hands you the flowers.

You gratefully take them, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I wrote to you just this morn."

"Did you?" his brow quirks, "you might be glad to know you needn't do anymore."

Your brows furrow.

"I..." he smiles softly, "... am promised to Princess Rhaenyra."

Daemon's brow quirks.

"Oh," you mutter, "oh..." your lips wobble, "d-does that mean you will be staying here?"

Laenor chuckles, "yes, I-"

He grunts when you embrace him again.

Daemon looks away and scoffs.

"That's wonderful!" you sob, "oh, my dear Laenor."

Laenor chuckles as he pulls away, "surely mine own company is not so much a relief from my uncle's."

"Careful, boy," Daemon snaps, eyes narrowing, "I respect you, but that doesn't mean I like you."

Laenor's eyes widen again, "of course, uncle."

"In any case," you wipe your philtrum, "I am glad to have a friend."

Friend... I could be your friend, thinks Daemon.

Laenor nods, "as am I."

With that, Laenor walks off and you turn to the Bougainvilleas in your hands.

"You write to Laenor about flowers?"

You turn to Daemon, seeing him grind his teeth. You nod simply, "upon his request."

He opens his mouth but then shuts it. Would you have obliged himhis request if he ever wrote back to you? He banishes the thought and turns to the ground, "you should plant them."

Your brows quirk at the thought.

"Grow them in your garden," he turns around, walking back to Caraxes.

You watch him caress his dragon. You mutter to yourself, "that's not how that works."

You wait for him to finish doting on his ride. You stare at your flowers as you do so.

When Daemon turns back, he sees you gently caressing the pink buds. He imagines you doing the same to his cheeks and lips; it makes him rapidly shake his head and call your name.

You look up at him.

Daemon's lips are curved into a frown, "I do not keep you prisoner."

Your brows furrow, "what?'

He motions with his head, "go."

You turn to where he motioned, eyes immediately falling on Laenor. You look back at him, "I-"

"He's surely famished from a long ride," he slowly turns back to Caraxes, stroking his scales. The dragon huffs, lying down. "I doubt you've eaten yourself."

You stare at him, brows knitting together.

He turns back to you, "go to him. Be with your friend."

You pull your head back, "I-"

"I wish to clear my head," he pats Caraxes, "I'll do it in the sky."

Of course, what he really wanted was to find solace in your arms, but he tries to convince himself flying will be just as good. After all, that was how he calmed himself before... before you.

"I'll be back before dark," he mutters, walking off to mount Caraxes.

You watch him climb on his dragon's back. You watch him as he commands Caraxes to stand.

You nearly ask him to stay, but your memories convince you to do otherwise.

You gasp softly when Caraxes takes off.

532 notes · View notes

jensthwa · 6 months ago

Text

a very show & tell christmas (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

It's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first Christmas as a couple but not your first one together. As he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

PAIRING: mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: stablished relationship, holidays special!

WORD COUNT: 7k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI), mingi's pov, a loooot of fluff and love talk, pet names (love, my love, babe), mistletoe kisses, heart felt gifts, messy kisses, mingi and reader briefly discuss something that i've come to learn is called sweater fetish but i don't know if the scene counts as that but just letting you know, oral sex (f receiving), reader asks mingi to 'use' her, hard but romantic sex, unprotected sex (booo, wrap it up please), marriage discussion at the end omg?

NOTES: happy holidays everyone! I've been wanting to write mingi's perspective of everything that went down in s&t for a while so I took the chance to write it for the holidays because what better time to reminisce about everything you've ever lived than december am I right? [nervous chuckle]. I hope you're having a wonderful month and i hope next year treats you even better! THIS IS PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH SERIES BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 25th 2024.

Mingi remembers the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. It's an image so vivid, so impactful in his life that there's no way he could ever, ever forget.

He was playing soccer on the street, with two friends who moved away that same year and he doesn't really remember them all that well now. He kicked the ball so hard it landed in your yard as you were doing something else. Playing with dirt? He doesn't really remember, you might've been but it didn't matter because it was also the first time he realized he could fall in love.

Granted, he didn't fall in love immediately. He was, after all, just a fourteen year old boy and he didn't understand those feelings just yet. It was that transitional period of a kid’s life where the desire to connect with someone else was strong but definitely not a priority.

Besides, he didn't realize, until many years had gone by, that the first time that he saw you and he felt time stop, he also saw a life with you: the five seconds it took for the ball to roll over to your feet after almost punching you in the face and he sort of assumed you were going to be in his life forever.

And you are going to be in his life forever. In one way or another, but he promised you that forever a while ago, in his head, in his dreams and in the way he cares about you, for you. In the way his heart hurts when you're not around, when you two fight. In the way his heart sings when he kisses you, the way it dances and beats against his chest when you smile at him, because of him, around him.

And when he hears you laugh? Pfft. He melts at the sound.

He's melting even now, after being officially together a little over a year, as you laugh with your mom and his mom while decorating the Christmas tree at his house.

Well, not decorating it exactly. You three went shopping earlier today and somehow your mom convinced his mom that the old ornaments did not go with the living room aesthetic anymore and she bought new ones for them.

The only ones that are old now, that the redecorating party is finishing with the tree, are the ones you and him have shared over the years.

The one you got at fifteen, that resembles a snow globe with two snowmans inside of it, holding hands and with your names engraved in wood underneath it. The one he got at seventeen that's a little simpler but you say it's your favorite: two gingerbread cookies holding a heart sign with your initials in it, one of the cookies kissing the other’s cheek.

You two have been alternating years of getting each other ornaments and deciding which house they're staying at. This year, however, you went for a different approach to the tradition. Each of you painted an ornament, a traditional one, with something festive that alludes to one another.

He, seeing that you've been talking snoopy for half a year, tried his best to paint the character on top of his dog house, decorated by Christmas lights and with a red ribbon to tie it to the tree that illuminates your living room up the street.

Now, he watches carefully as you hang near the other ornaments, the one you hand painted to look like a chicken. Initially, you tried to convince him it was a penguin but it can't possibly be. It's more yellow than black or white and even if you tried to tell him it's a specific type of penguin you saw in happy feet there's nothing that indicates that it's not a chicken.

“Oh, well, it fits him.” His mother says at your explanation, hugging your mother tightly as she fondly watches you hang the ornament up. You turn around when you finish, tongue out at him childishly.

He pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and getting up to playfully tug at the tongue you're sticking out to him still “Mom, you're supposed to be on my side.”

“I am!” She defends herself, smiling like she's totally not on his side. “It does look a little bit like you, dear. Even your little mole here.”

You take the opportunity to press on your tippy toes and kiss the mole his mom is pointing out, only to get more aws from them.

“I win.” You whisper to him, proud of yourself and he can't help but smile at you as you pull away.

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you. It was the first time he called you by his favorite endearment: love.

He remembers the ice cream shop you both were at, he remembers the conversation being more of a confession that you had a crush on a friend of his, he remembers the guy serving the ice cream complaining about the fridge hardly working and he remembers the blush on your cheeks as you admitted to want to be called love because…

“That's what good boyfriend's do,” you said, ice cream on your fingers that you quickly wipe away with an already sticky napkin, “So we're going to get together and I'm going to be called love from that moment on.”

He knew you were talking about his friend but his heart skipped a beat anyway. He had to focus on what you were telling him, not on the pretty smile you gave him or the relief he felt when he realized the one thing that would lead you straight (or not so straight) to disappointment.

His friend was a very proud but not that out gay man.

But Mingi decided to not mess with it, he always let you fight your battles alone if those battles ended up with you learning a lesson and without a scratch, anyway.

“Good luck with that, love.”

“Ugh, no, you don't get to call me that!”

The nickname stuck either way. Even if, at the time, he pushed those feelings down deep inside of him.

Because you were his love, but you were also his best friend ever and he was just a dude. A boy, even.

He didn't know better and so, eventually, you got a boyfriend. Great dude, worshipped you like you deserved and all.

Mingi remembers the way he felt when you told him you loved Han. He hated the guy, hated the way he made you smile, hated the fact that he trusted him of all people because, well, there was and there will never be someone who loves you more than Mingi.

Han thought he was the one, you didn't. But even after breaking up with Han, Mingi stood still. He understood his feelings, his protectiveness over you, as something platonic. But he didn't really have time to think about it with your head on his chest, on his bed, over the sheets and with the door wide open because it was a school night after all.

School night meant no sleepovers, but his mom didn't ask you to leave when she saw you with tears in your eyes at their front door. Mingi didn't ask you to leave as you soaked his sweatshirt with said tears, either.

“I don't know why I did it, Mingi. I don't… He did nothing wrong.”

“You said you felt he was not the one.”

Your regretful eyes looked up at him “But what if he was?”

“He's not,” he whispered back to you and, at the time, he didn't know why. He had no reason to tell you Han wasn't the one for you, but his subconscious knew things he didn't accept back then. “You wouldn't be doubting it at all if he was, love.”

You ended up sleeping over that night, door wide open still, your mom texting him when she couldn't reach you on the phone.

He helped you through that breakup, just like you helped him with his first breakup as well.

He helped you mend your own wounds, he saw you grow stronger after the pain went away, he felt proud of you when you started showing up to your first uni parties without him having to convince you to go.

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he wanted to kiss you. You two were laying under the stars, a little hazy and on a rooftop you definitely shouldn't be up in.

That probably wasn't the actual first time he wanted to kiss you, just the first time he admitted it to himself. Your friends were on the rooftop as well, dancing around, yelling, being silly, just as drunk as you two were or worse but, for a moment, it was quiet. Now that he thinks back to it, he probably imagined it.

The noise quieting down, that is.

Mingi remembers that he had turned to you to ask what you thought was going on but your eyes were closed. He remembers the breath he took in as he traced the side of your face with his eyes, carefully, like the staring alone would get you out of whatever peace you were enjoying at the moment.

Have your lips always been so perfect and inviting? He answered himself immediately: Yes, of course they are perfect, she's perfect.

He doesn't really know how he didn't realize it right then and there. When his heart soared at the thought of it, of disturbing your peace only to kiss you.

And then the noise came back, laughing and screeching and something alarming came out of Jongho’s mouth.

“Shit, shit. Security!”

You opened our eyes and found him already staring at you. He should've felt embarrassed to be caught, but you smiled at him before rushing to your feet, offering your hand and shaking it for him to take it.

“Can you get up or should I stay and be escorted out with you?”

No one got caught that night except, maybe, his heart.

Because he realized he loved you around a week after that, as he saw you do the most mundane task ever: washing your teeth in front of your bathroom sink, still trying to rant about something that pissed you off in one of your classes. He remembers pressing his shoulder against the doorframe and looking at your and your frown through the mirror. He also remembers the frantic beat of his heart as he realized he wanted to do just this with you every day of his life.

Going to bed together, waking up next to you and listening to you rant about things you're going to forget the next day. He never wanted that with anyone else, only you.

You, you, you. He got so lovesick the next year after that he tried desperately to cover it up. With different activities, with people kissing his neck at parties after dancing for a while, with anything and everything that could distract him from the fact that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

Not because he didn't want to explore but because every single time he tried to say something, the words would die down under the weight of years of friendship and loyal companionship.

He couldn't lose you, he didn't even know how to make sure you liked him back!

And so the yearning got unbearable enough for everyone in your friend group to notice it, except for, well, you.

“At some point you have to tell her about it, right?”

No one in the group presses on things. Woo and Gyuri (Woo’s ex girlfriend who, somehow, is still his friend and everyone's friend as well) maybe, but when it comes to matters of the heart, they let everyone be. So it surprised him when Seonghwa, of all people, spoke on it.

“You can't keep looking at her like that from a distance and waiting for it to pass, Mingi. It's not going to pass.”

He remembers sighing and then giving you one more glance before turning to his friend.

“She probably doesn't feel the same.”

“Who cares? You're never going to find out keeping it to yourself.” Seonghwa gave him a tiny smile before bumping his shoulder against his, both teasingly and reassuring. “Besides, she loves you too much to allow some romantic feelings to get in the way. Just… Think about it, yeah? Not forcing you here,” he shrugged, “but we all do, kind of, maybe, want you two to kiss.”

Snorting a laugh, Mingi remembers shaking his head no and then thinking about it for, at least, three months after that before actually making a move.

He remembers feeling humiliated by one of his attempts to put his feelings for you to rest, he remembers confiding in you and your friends, he remembers when you agreed to tell him how to make it right the next time he slept with anyone else. He doesn't really remember asking you to show him.

His mind disconnected after he saw the blush painting your cheeks beautifully, his heart took over him when he kneeled in front of you to kiss you that first time, when he allowed himself to give in and touch you like he had wanted to for so long.

And then the days and the months blended so gracefully after that summer that he doesn't really recall when the weather started getting cold, just that the color of the snow contrasts against your winter coat when you both go outside after having Christmas dinner at his house, with both your parents and his present.

They were friends before, but now? They see each other more than you two.

Well, that's a lie, but almost. And, like all best friends do when spending the holidays together, they get lost in good conversation and company, in a bubble made out of wine and laughter, cozy enough that it allows you and Mingi to slip out of his house hand in hand easily.

You have a little smile as you look around the street like you don't know the houses you pass on the way to yours. He wants to indulge you, but the words slip out his mouth without even thinking about it.

“Am I walking you home because you wanted to change into something more comfortable or because you want to give me an additional Christmas gift, love?”

“Stop ruining it! You know I'm not good at hiding things,” you click your tongue, pretending to be disappointed and kick the snow with your boot when you stop and pull him close, “We haven't got alone time in forever.”

“Two days,” he says with a nod, arms going around you and head going down to kiss your lips tenderly for a quick second, “Three, if we count today.”

You pout “That's like… A lifetime.”

“I know,” he gives in, chuckling against your lips, “I'm going through withdrawal symptoms and all.”

He watches as you close your eyes and lean in. He gets ready for it, inhaling cold air that hits his lungs as a reminder where you two are, what he's allowed to enjoy in public, and closes his eyes as he waits for your kiss that never comes.

Instead, your nose nuzzles his softly, barely nudging the skin and you take a step back, taking his gloved hand and intertwining it with yours “I also may or may not have a gift for you.”

Smiling in victory, Mingi fakes an annoyed gasp “I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you're so smart,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and entering your front yard without letting go of him. “Hurry, I'm freezing!”

“This was your idea, love.” He deadpans but hurries anyways and afterwards, as the warmth of the foyer allows him to shrug off his coat and leave it in its designated spot by the door, he laughs at your clear enthusiasm.

You're already shoeless, coatless, gloveless and scarfless and waiting at the third step of the stairs, impatiently blinking at him as a signal to hurry up, again. And when goes upstairs with you, you make him promise to keep his eyes closed as he walks towards your room.

“You're too tall, I can't cover them with my hands so promise, Song Mingi.”

“My eyes are literally closed!”

He hears a door open. It has that creaking sound the door to your room has and when the smell of your perfume hits him as you press your hands to his chest to stop him, he doesn't have to open his eyes to know where he is. He knows his way around these halls anyway.

You turn him, so that his back is probably facing your room, and then instruct:

“Look up and open your eyes.”

Mistletoe. That's what he sees when he opens his eyes: mistletoe that is badly tape to your door frame, just above him. It makes him smile and then the best friend in him takes over when he looks down at you and your blushed cheeks.

“Love… That's so chees—”

“Just kiss me, you idiot.”

And he does. He lifts you up from the floor and you bury your fingers in his hair before securing your legs around his waist and he walks the room he knows like the back of his hand until he reaches the bed. He doesn't sit down or puts you down yet, lazily opening your mouth with his tongue when you sigh against him.

“Wait— Mm,” you speak against his mouth, words silenced by his eager tongue a second later. He has to physically throw his head back to stop himself from kissing you further, but when his eyes return to his face, his will almost falters. “That was not the gift.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, smiling.

“Sit on the floor.”

He does and the carpet is soft under his fidgeting hands as he watches you move around the room. You go into your closet (literally, you disappear behind the closed doors) and when you come back with a large box he blinks a few times in astonishment.

Huge box, really. It almost doesn't fit the space between you when you sit down in front of him and glance at him excitedly, a shy color to your voice when you speak again “Open it!”

There's no way he can help the smile that curves his lips when he opens the box and finds an assortment of handmade things. Yes, the ornament that you made may have looked like something else entirely, but he starts to believe you made it on purpose when he pulls out the first gift: a bouquet made out of candy, his favorite sweets.

“This is beautiful, love…”

He lets out a chuckle when you steal one immediately and he promises to dig into it once he goes through all the gifts.

There's a box with a card underneath that he goes to pick up but you stop him with a trembling hand “Save that one for last.” And he notices you're a little bit nervous, so he does, his own heart skipping at what might've inside the box, a similar yet smaller one weighing on the pocket of the coat he left downstairs.

The other things left on the box are a few bills in the shape of hearts and a wooden sphere that he finds out, seconds later, it's a picture museum.

“I couldn't fit every important picture we took together in a regular shaped box so I had to get this one.” You explain as he looks at the inside of the sphere. It looks like a miniature museum and Mingi feels like crying a little, so he takes your hand in his and gives it a kiss to ground himself “They're in chronological order, too, I had to consult the ancient texts to get them all right!”

He laughs, confused “The ancient texts?”

“Yes, my Instagram story archive.” You return, nodding and he gives your hand another kiss before letting it go to set down the museum next to the bills and the bouquet.

You let out a shaky breath when he returns his attention to the box and picks it up. You pick up the card.

“Before you open it, let me read this to you.”

“Of course,” he returns softly and takes the trembling hand you're extending in his direction.

“First of all, look at how cute this is,” you turn the card and inside of it, it's decorated with kisses. Your kisses. Mingi would recognize them anywhere and he tries to take the card from you but you bat his hand away with it. “Later, let me read this to you. Um…

“Dear Mingi,” he giggles at the formality of your tone and then forces himself to stop at the look you give him. “Dear Mingi,” you start again, “I don't have a way with words and I've re-written this letter a thousand times but I think I have come to terms with the fact that there are no words invented, no language discovered, that can accurately immortalize my feelings for you. The love I hold for you transcends everything and everyone, every concept ever created and every new idea future generations come up with. And, as I try to come up with a joke that can give this overdone confession any lightness, I have also come to terms with the fact that you're it for me. I already knew this, of course,” you laugh and he has to laugh a little, heartbeat on his throat and eyes full of tears and all, “I already knew how much I loved you. Platonically, romantically, it all has just blended into one because it doesn't really matter how I loved you, it just matters that I have the opportunity to do so, my love. I love you.”

When your eyes catch his, the tears are already wetting his cheeks.

“And now what didn't fit in the letter, because I chose this tiny ass card,” you laugh again, eyes already wet even though he can see you're telling yourself not to cry. “Our first Christmas together was the time I realized I wanted you in my life forever. It just felt right, like we belonged somehow and we do, Mingi. So I— Open the box.” You quickly say and when he does, the whole thing falls apart.

Kind of.

When he pulls the rope tied in a bow at the top and the sides fall he makes a noise of surprise that makes you laugh.

The sides have more pictures of you two and in the middle of the box there's another tiny box that he opens to find a necklace.

With a ring that could fit him as its charm and a silver chain that's not too delicate but not too rough, just like the one he uses on a daily basis.

The ring has your initials engraved on the inside and his initials engraved on the outside. He lets out a sob that prompts your tears to flow freely down your face and he catches you wiping them.

“I didn't want to give you this with the rest of your gifts this morning because, well, I'm shy and—”

“You are not shy.” He speaks over you, wiping his tears.

“And I didn't want our parents to scream marriage at us. I don't want to scream marriage at you either, my love,” you say before he gets any ideas. And it did cross his mind a second ago, but he's far from terrified of it. “But I wanted you to have something to remember me by, with our initials in it, as a token of how much I love you, Mingi.”

He doesn't even know what to say.

“A lot. I love you a lot, if you couldn't tell.” You add and he laughs and manages to scoot around the box of gifts to wrap his arms around your frame. You laugh into the skin of his neck, hugging him back.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear and his heart beating fast still. When he pulls back, you try to give him a kiss and he stops you, which prompts a confused look on your side. “You know that they say that overtime couples start to think alike?”

“Look alike,” you correct with a tilt of your head and he gives you a look, so you backtrack, smiling. “No, yeah, couples start to think alike.” You nod and then let out a noise in protest of him getting up.

He points his finger at you “Wait here.”

And then he bolts downstairs, to his coat.

It really does say something about you two, about the way your minds sync up at most needed time. Because as he enters your room, box in hand and knees hitting the carpet in front of you, he can tell you got his point immediately.

“I'm not screaming marriage at you yet, love and I also didn't get you a letter or a chain to go with it, but—” He hands you the box and lets you open it, head immediately trying to paint into his memory the way you gasp at the ring, the way you take it delicately into your hands and examine it with care. “But I bought this months ago, in that antique shop you like so much because it reminded me of you and how could it not? Do you see how beautiful it is?”

It sparkles under your bedroom light, but he can see it from a distance: all the delicate details that make it look like there's two hands holding the pearl in the middle. In a way, it looks like two hands holding a heart.

Just like you hold his heart.

“As a token of your much I love you, Y/N.”

You pout as he takes the ring and puts it on your finger.

“You can't just steal my speech, Song Min—”

He kisses you again. He can't not kiss you, he can't help but get you into your arms and thank you for choosing the ground to present your gift because he's anything but careful as he stands up, drags you with him, and sits on the bed with you on top of him.

“Shit, hold on—”

“Hm?” There's concern in the way your eyebrows crease and Mingi gets briefly distracted by how kissed out and breathless you look for a second before reaching for the floor.

“My necklace,” he explains, reaching for the box and successfully getting it in his hand without having to take you off his lap. “Put it on for me, love?”

“So you liked it?” You ask nonchalantly as you take the necklace, legs opening a bit more so that you're sitting further into his lap.

“You literally made me cry, Y/N. Tears,” he says, making a face that you catch before closing the clasp behind his neck.

“Of joy?” You return in a whisper, eyes so sweet and smile so shy it makes him want to cry all over again.

“I love you.” He says instead of answering the question, lips touching yours again, softly, wanting, forgetting you don't have a lot of time before your parents wonder where you went.

There's no way careful thoughts can get through the fog your sighs against him create, in the way your teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip and pull until he's moaning, the sting of pain passing by as your tongue caresses his.

You've been getting a little bold lately, the nature of your encounters is always passionate but, somewhat, normal. Mingi loves every second you decide to give yourself to him but he also fucking loves when you do shit you like.

Like taking control of the kiss, pulling his hair so his head can fall back and you can slowly make it messier, sloppier, even after the sweet moment you two just shared.

Hands start to roam freely and, by the time you pull on his hair to detach your mouth from his fully, he's already breathless and hard against the fabric of his pants, mouth wet with shared spit.

He's sure his pupils are blown, he's sure he's red on the face and fucked out already. He knows his expression mirrors yours as you take him, and the necklace, in, eyes scanning his frame before you roll your hips against him.

He moans pathetically.

You smile at the sound.

“Like anything you see?” He tries to tease you to no avail.

“You look so hot like this…” The hand tangled in his hair moves and he closes his eyes to welcome the feeling of your nails softly digging into his skin as they make their way into his neck, over the necklace and the ring resting against his collarbone.

“With the necklace on?”

“And the sweater.”

He glances at his beige sweater with an arched brown and then he looks at your sweater, a warmer tone of beige than his, the neck a little high but not high enough to be considered a turtle neck, with the same expression.

He puts the pieces together and then scoffs out an impressed laugh.

“Where did you learn this kink, love?”

“It's not a kink,” you defend yourself immediately, laughing when he looks at you like he doesn't believe it and then he leans in again, peppering your jaw with slow, open mouth kisses, “I just saw a video the other day and…”

“And?” He encourages you with a shift of his hips of his own, gaining a curse that slips past your lips.

“And then I saw you today in this.” The palm of your hand slips from his neck and into the fabric of the sweater, thumb passing over his nipple with purpose. He hisses in response. “So… We could leave it on, hm? What do you think?”

He raises an eyebrow, trying to bite his smile back “What did they do in the video, love?”

“Oh,” you giggle into his shoulder as he kisses every inch of skin available to him, “it was a homemade video. I don’t watch anything super produced, you know that. They, uhm… Fuck, babe,” he licks his way up the side of your neck, successfully making you melt against him. “She was looking at her phone and he was eating her out,” you manage to get out. “And then she got on her stomach, legs straight a-and closed while he fucked her. Used her, kinda.” He pulls back at that, both intrigued and wanting to see if that’s what you actually want.

“Used her to get off?”

You nod and he leans in, nose brushing yours.

“Is that what you want me to do with you?”

“After you get me off,” you whisper back, smiling without any shame at your request “yeah.”

Mingi takes his time to think about it. On purpose, letting the tension linger as he presses both palms against the mattress, leaning back just enough so you can catch him checking you out unapologetically. Truth being told, his dick is twitching in his pants at the thought of helping you explore. This has always been your dynamic in bed: exploring, searching, discovering new things that make you wet, researching new ways of making you come and there’s nothing that gets him off more than the idea of you getting away with what you want.

Even if that means sweating the fabric of this expensive sweater through. It’s okay, he has a washing machine. The way you wait for an answer, with eyes so bright and expectant, makes him bite his lip in return.

Yeah, there’s nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you.

He also knows you enjoy this.

The anticipation. The teasing, the way his hand returns to your legs and slides the material of the sweater up slightly, only to neglect the idea a second after and, instead, turning his hand and letting his knuckles brush against the fabric of it deliberately, with laced intention into the touch even though his expression remains pensive at the proposal.

A proposal he accepted, like, the second after you said it outloud.

“Do you know how much I love your tits, love?”

You let out a sigh as your answer and one look at you is enough to encourage him to keep going. Knuckles brushing upwards, he catches your firm nipple through the fabric. It's a little hard to do; considering you're probably wearing two layers underneath to shield you from the December cold; but he manages and you let out a needy whine.

“Do you know how much I love you if I’m going to fuck you without taking one look at them?”

Damn. He doesn’t really mean for his voice to sound so raspy but it does and the way your lips curve in mischief let’s him know that you catch it for what it really means: He’s so lost in it, in the sensual bickering, that he can’t help but show how affected he is, one way or another.

And then there’s the urgency of getting on with it because you don’t know how much time you get alone, until someone calls your phone and asks for you or until your parents get tired of the wine and come back home.

So it really does happen in a flash when you grab the collar of his sweater and smash his lips against yours with need, with a newfound spark that excites him. He practically rushes to take your bottoms off, to slide down until they pool at his ankles, to turn on the bed until you’re laying on your back and his mouth is marking your inner thighs, adding new color to the bruises already lingering there.

You’re twitching under his touch and he has to press your hips down to keep you still when he takes your panties off and dives into your folds. Usually, he would be prepping you to make a mess. You teached him how to make you squirt months ago, the day before you officially got together and he has had the pleasure of making you see stars since then.

Today, there’s not enough time.

So he wastes no time in devouring you like he knows you like it. Your leg thrown over his shoulder, the sweater and the shirt underneath rising just enough for him to thrust his hips against the bed at the image of your skin.

You try to keep it down, he sees you trying to contain yourself and under any other circumstances, he would scold you for depriving him of the sounds you make. But this time around, the view edges him. He wonders briefly what other scenarios he can propose to have you gulping down your moans, to make you gasp for air after pressing the palm of your own hand over your mouth so no more whines slip out of your lips.

He doubles his efforts, just to see you trying to contain yourself and failing to do so, again. It makes you double your efforts as well, probably just to spite him as you thrust your hips and chase your high, but it doesn't bother him.

If anything, it makes him harder than ever. The way you ride his face, the tongue that flattens out and then curves around your clit and your conviction falters, hips falling still at the way he sucks into your sensitive nub. Your hand in his hair pulls a little and the sting of pain almost makes him come untouched.

Chuckling into your heat, Mingi catches the exact moment your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels your limbs locking, he tastes your release when your orgasm hits you, he helps you ride out the sensation while pleased moans fill the room.

And, usually, he would kiss his way up to your lips. He could right now too, over the sweater, the idea of the fuzzy material mixing with your orgasm it's tempting but he remembers you have to see people after this as well.

He remembers he doesn't have much time.

And your words are ringing on the back of his head when his mouth latches onto yours again, when you moan after tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulls away to silently ask the question: Do you want to keep going?

You nod, nose nuzzling his briefly before he turns you around. Harshly, like he knows you like it. He sees you grasp the comforter and a pillow between your fingers when he sinks himself into your wet heat, he hears the muffled cry when he adjusts a little and when you close your legs to lie flatly on the bed and in-between his, he all but sees stars at the feeling.

You're not tight. That's good, that's a sign that you're comfortable with him, trusting of him, a sign that you want you. This position makes it a snug fit, though, and when you purposefully squeeze around him he presses on his hands on your lower back with a groan.

“S-stop stalling, baby, we're running out of ti— Fuck, Mingi!”

Pulling out and then slamming his hips back down with measured force, he marvels in the feeling of you genuinely squeezing around him, out of pleasure and not to tease him.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, forehead connecting with the soft material of the sweater when he leans over you, on your shoulder and smiles when you moan at the way he picks up the pace.

“Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck,” you mumble in response, head turning and breath fawning on his cheek that you attempt to kiss a second later, so he complies and turns his head to kiss you sweetly, a complete contrast of the way he's thrusting into you.

He falters when he notices just how hard he is going but your hand shoots back, attempts to grab his hip and your head shakes in disapproval.

“Don't stop,” you ask, breathless, eyes scanning his face to see if he's not into this but he assumes you don't find that because he is into it, “use me, my love. That's what I want.”

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He leans back up, hands finding a secure spot on your hips and uses you like you asked. He’s hardly the one to seek his own relief so soon. He likes to take his time with you, even when you don’t have much, and that means making you come undone at least twice before he even allows his dick to be touched, but now?

With how turned on he is? With how full of love he is for you?

He remembers the time, the years he didn’t allow himself to see you in nothing but platonic light. He remembers the feeling of your lips on his for the first time, he remembers the love you professed to him today and the way you make him feel so wanted, so adored, so—

“Oh— fuck.”

His pace falters, his orgasm so close he’s unable to keep chasing for it with the same measured force he was using before.

“Yes, Mingi,” you encourage, somehow managing to move your body upwards, meeting his own, “don’t stop, baby, please, I want to feel you inside of me.”

He vaguely registers himself moaning, babbling nonsense as his movements pick back up. He hears your voice distantly, like he’s underwater, like the way you tell him to come inside of him and that you love him it’s what’s pulling him back up.

And when he releases inside of you, his ears ring slightly and his forehead meets your back, eyes closed and chest heaving. He feels his heartbeat on his throat, he feels your heartbeat on your back and its rhythm matches his beautifully.

No one says anything for a few minutes where you both try and recover from the intensity of what you just did. Something new, something that leaves you both exhausted and he can see it on your sleepy and content smile when he pulls out and you turn around, not giving a fuck that you’re bedding is probably going to get sticky with his cum.

He throws himself besides you and your nose touches his cheek immediately.

“That was…”

“So good,” you say and he hugs you close, breath still ragged, “and we should definitely look into sweater fetish or whatever it’s called. I think you enjoyed it more than me.”

He gasps in feign offense.

“Stop projecting, love.”

“Am not—”

“Yes, you are,” he sing-songs back and you weakly hit his arm with your fist. You don’t say anything afterwards and Mingi stops staring at the stars in your ceiling to look at you.

You’re staring at your ring. He smiles, all the emotions that your words brought to him coming right back.

“I want to marry you, Y/N.”

He says it without really thinking it through. He doesn’t regret it even when you look up at him with a little panic behind your eyes.

“Now?”

He laughs “Someday,” shrugging, his lips connect with your hairline and you sigh, snuggling up to him a bit more “There’s going to be two more rings that I’m going to give to you and only you.”

“Good thing you got my ring size right.”

Your joke makes him laugh and you lean up against his chest a bit to look at him.

“I’m going to say yes, Mingi,” you whisper and he melts against the pillow, his hand on your cheek a second later. He sees your eyes go down to the ring on his necklace and the smile that brings to your lips makes his heart pick up again. “And then I’m going to show off my ring to everyone and I’m going to be insufferable as a wife. I hope you’re ready.”

You fall back down on his chest, cheek just above the beating of his heart and eyes closed. The smile lingers on your lips and, as he brushes your hair back with his hand and smooths his hand under your sweater, he can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t want it any other way, love.”

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH and happy holidays! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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lenaswritingandstuff · 8 months ago

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Home • Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to make something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go.

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now.

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places.

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table.

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor.

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?”

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.”

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book.

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?”

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him?

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?”

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.”

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go.

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you.

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.”

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.”

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?”

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?”

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head.

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice.

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?”

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist.

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls.

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.”

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next - put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath.

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked.

“If you want,” you laughed.

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home.

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kujainvidiata · 14 days ago

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„Risotto Nero Observes“ - English Translation

(and my long thought session about it)

Thanks to a kind person, I finally have a link to an English Translation of the recently released short novel about Risotto Nero, called „Risotto Nero Observes“, written by Ayato Toya and translated by Hudgyn Sasdarl. It was published in the official JOJO SUMMER Magazine 2025 along with other short novels, also some festuring La Squadra members. But this one here is focusing on Risotto Nero and it is honestly a fantastic read. I would appreciate if you also share it around, so more people learn about more about Risotto Nero, since he is a beloved character of the JJBA fandom.

⚠️TW for: Canon typical violence (also involving children), murder and the whole mafia stuff you should be familiar with.

Below the cut, I will talk about my own thoughts about the short novel of my favorite character in fiction. It is just yapping in the end I needed to write down, but I also tried to analyze some stuff. I am not a native English speaker, so I am sorry for my mistakes in language. I did also not proof read it, so I am sorry for missing words or typos.

I am also adding some art I made of him because why not ✂️

First of all. Hi, my name is Kuja. I am a dedicated Risotto Nero centric artist and also a yumejoshi of him. Maybe you saw my art before if you like this character. If you do, maybe you also know how much this character means to me since he basically changed my life and brought me back into art and is the reason I found a wonderful community. Which is the reason I want to take my time and talk about this novel in my own interpretations and observations.

In short, this novel is exactly what I wanted to read about regarding to Risotto Nero.

It features no romance, introduces all of the members of La Squadra Esecuzioni and their steuggles, new characters and mostly is focusing on Risotto and his thought process, aka. his „observations“ which will be a reoccuring theme in this novel, which makes it a joy to read.

The short novel is timeline wise in the time around Christmas playing shortly after the murder of Gelato and Sorbet, which will also be a central theme.

Chapter 0:

A short scene where we witness Risotto Nero committing another successful assassination. As imagined, he is mostly using the camouflage abilities of Metallica to hunt down his targets. The kind of k1llingd he does keep being brutal and bloody, as we know later on also often to send an example and message from the highest of Passione.

It is interesting how peaceful the scene was written with the festive christmas music in the background which slowly fades into horror as the corpse is getting discovered by the passengers on that festive day.

Highlight of this chapter is for sure the absolutely high contrast of Risotto's deeds. On the one hand taking a life in a cold way, as expected from the leader of a hitman team. On the other we are experiencing a softer side on him, which many fans often speculated about. The target of Risotto's mission was just kicking a young pickpocketing girl away, making her almost fall to the ground and hurting her while Risotto, still invisible, catching her hand. Her only seeing iron powder on her small hands, probably wondering what just happened.

Seriously guys, this scene alone made me as a die hard Risotto Yume tremble in joy since it confirmed a lot of my own interpretations and headcanons about him, like having a soft spot for the younger generation. He did NOT have to help the girl, but he did, without ever getting anything in return since the girl could not even see him.

Risotto then sends a message of the confirmation of the hit to the boss who interestingly immediatly answers. Diavolo, are you camping your phone and computer all day?

Chapter 1:

One of the most interesting chapters for me personally because of the amount we learn about the hitman team again by observing how they interact with each other.

It is early in the morning and the hitman team is interacting not in person, but in a computer group chat, their personalities shining through.

We learn that Risotto Nero is currently residing inside a room which is part of a cheap apartment inside the outskirts of Naples. So is this only a temporary spot? It is written that Risotto brought his computer so it seems like he is only for a brief time living there. Do they have actual homes? Or do the members rather travel between short lived hideout spots from Passione? In the end, it is no luxury how they live. And this story often reminds us about this fact.

The hitman team is discussing about the most recent news recieved from the boss himself, about a new hit of a man called Rossi who plans to flee real soon and that Passione is entering the business of waste disposal. And two of their members should forcefully (a no won’t get accepted) transferred into this new branch: Formaggio and Illuso. Which causes a big uproar in the chat. Not gonna lie, it is very charming how they all are interacting and even throwing jokes in between. You see once again they all seem to have close bonds to each other. The typical duos are interacting, Pesci with his anniki, Illuso and Formaggio and once again Melone and Ghiaccio who really seem to get each other well, how they interact with each other really tells a lot about their dynamic.

Only one is not fully participating and rather „observing“, Risotto Nero, who tries to read in between the messages and how his subordinates are really feeling in this moment.

Also because of the most recent trauma they endured, the brutal loss of Sorbet and Gelato, two members who were tired of being treated like dirt and dismissively by the whole organization. Not respected, awful pay and the high risk of losing their lives on the daily. It is always interesting how sympatheticly La Squadra Esecuzioni is written, sure, they are assassins for the most dangerous Italian mafia but you can still emphazise with them. Many of us probably can relate to these feelings, not being treated and paid properly for the hard work we do and wanting to get their deserved amount. Their coworkers and close friends being sent to another occupation without their consent. Their capabilities not respected. Who wants to be treated like this? Sure, the motives are mostly motivated in an egoistical sense compared to an altruistic like some members of Bruno‘s gang do, which is one of the main differences of these gangs. But this is also why the hitman team feels more close, since they operate and think as a group, they want the best for themselves, the others coming afterwards, contrary to wanting to stop entire branches of their business for a better cause as a whole.

Even the boss is sending them more and more not so subtile threats how they have to submit and be obedient to his will. Like Pesci realizes, the messages are hidden in numbers. „Smorfia napoletana“ as it is called and we learn about which is a very clever stylistic choice of this novel which are basically numbers with meaning. And the boss knows very well what he wants to communicate to his hitman team, that he has the sole power over them.

And then we have Risotto Nero again. Who is, like I mentioned before, rarely participating in the talk and more inside his head and thoughts, trying to form plans, trying to see patterns and things. Now even more than before.

Because he feels guilty. Because he feels responsible for the death of two of his subordinates. He is angry at himself to not catching on clues of their planned rebellion against the organization. For not preventing them. For not hinder their deaths. In the end, he has to grief again. Something Risotto Nero always has trouble to deal and process. Once again there were people close to him taken away from him. By death. Something he now himself is known for. He, as the jet-black executioner of Passione. It is quite ironic.

Risotto really can’t let these thoughts of guilt go, he constantly is tormening himself about his and now decided to be even more keen on his men. To analyze, to think about their next steps, to prevent such a mistake. To observe.

It is not only that Risotto Nero is „surface“ level invested in his men. No, he „couldn't“ lose anyone else. He is responsible, as their leader. But why he can’t lose them?

Is it just because of the team itself? Do endure even more consequences by the boss and being dissolved by being useless? Is it because of the team spirit? Is it because he needs them for being able to work in the first place? Or is it actually because he can’t stomach any more losses? We don’t know anything about the lives of the hitman team outside their job. Do they have friends? Family? Or only each other? It seems they go around quite a lot, and being gangsters is not easy forming honest relationships between them and civilians. And even other teams inside Passione seem to be cautious, even hateful towards them. They don’t seem trustworthy for anyone else outside the team.

Also, this novel also confirms that Risotto truly cares about his subordinates since he is absolutely trying to analyze and insight for their mental states. He knows his team is processing trauma. They are still human. Luckily he knows as well how many of his members can deal with the stress or who of them is capable protecting themselves most efficiently. He thinks a lot, analyzes a lot and tries how to make a change and impact for their benefit and therefore a raise of the group morale. The mention that Risotto is thinking about giving Formaggio missons with a high chance of succeeding, just to improve his mental wellbeing because he alone found the corpse of Gelato…it tells so much about him. Risotto is absolutely observant and does not tolerate his own mistakes and puts on actual effort of being a good leader for his men. He does not want to any bad causality ever happen again between them. And losing them. As their leader, he needs to look out for the hitman team, they only have themselves.

After the team points out how quiet Risotto is the whole time, he tells them to take on this assassination by himself alone. He really is losing himself a lot inside his analytical thoughts.

Chapter 2:

This chapter is more revolving about the setting itself. We get to know the urgent this assassination is, putting pressure onto Risotto who usually keeps a cool head. Risotto will take out this murder of the soon trying to flee Rossi in a very crowded place, directly inside the mansion of this man who is tainted by very crude and unethical businesses himself. To put an example. Don’t mess with Passione. A job suited for Risotto’s brutal Stand capabilities.

The party being thrown in the luxurious mansion was right before Christmas, Rossi is intending to show his new adoptive son, Gennaro, another central character in this story.

This decadent luxury is a nice way to show again the difference of the worlds they live in.

By the way, it is very cute to imagine Risotto Nero inside a proper elegant suit he is wearing for this event. Sorry, needed to let this out.

In the next scene, an elderly couple speaks to Risotto about the over the top interior of the mansion. It made me actually laugh that Risotto was seriously being called „a wallflower“. I seriously can see this, he does not seem like the center of attention of a party. He also doesn't need to, he is supposed to be blending into the scene after all.

Afterwards Rossi appears into the spotlight and talking about the mystery of the „unopenable door“ and also just spewing out some meaningless anecdotes.

Also a rising and uncomfortable heat is described by the pair which is unsually also affecting Risotto Nero himself, which is surprising him. But it the reason is a sense of unease he tries to pinpoint to, until he realizes it is actually Metallica wriggling and moving inside his body and not actual nervousness about the mission itself. They are reaction to something inside this mansion which also is affecting Risotto‘s body. All this while he is planning how to cover the walls in red real soon.

Later on the party, Gennaro, a 14 year old boy is finally introduced to the story and guests, seemingly innocent and youthful, full of enthiusiasm.

Then the party guests were starting a tombola game, an Italian tradition, where we also get to know about the smorfia napoletana again and get introduced to new numbers and their meanings.

While Rossi and Gennaro are playing a farce in front of the crowd, Risotto thinks about the numbers and their meanings, as well as getting further affected by the temperature and discomfort inside his body.

The numbers are really dire and somewhat ironic when we take Risotto‘s backstory into account. 14 and 18, which are ages which his life turned around. 14 meaning „drunk“ and „18“ blood-stained. It is incredibly ironic just how these numbers describe his past, while the 90, before in his apartment room poster, is also appearing on his tombola card as well. His reaction and realizing these numbers was followed by a snort of him.

It really is amazing how much the author of this novel is taking Risotto‘s backstory into account and building onto that or referencing it. He constantly gets reminded of the cruel acts he decided to do many years ago which led him chose a path without any redemption.

Right after this, when the party and speech of Rossi is reaching its climax, Risotto plans to kill him, approaching him to close the Stand distance. It is interesting how he also is pointing on the target. It seems a bit suspicious, but the whole story is constantly describing that the others are not paying any attention towards Risotto Nero anways, he mostly blends in.

Also, Risotto seems to view himself as a „professional“ regarding his job as a hitman, not doing these murders for the fun of it. As long as they are paid and not caused by his own Vendetta. It seems like it is thrilling for him to catch up the ideal chance to carry out the murder for the most dramatic moment for reaching the biggest impact.

But right before Risotto could activate his Stand, the light faded, panic invokes between the guests and he lost track of his target who completely vanished after the lights come back to, the family of Rossi, his wife and Gennaro, worried about his absence and calling the police. But Risotto does not give up yet, further being suspicious of the unopenable door which not even the police who arrived could open.

After many unsuccessful attempts of opening the door and getting a new signal of Rossi outside the mansion, the police leaves again, making the party end.

It is very fascinating to witness Risotto Nero using his brain power to connect the dots and uncovering the secret of this unopenable door, using Metallica again to form objects like forks to the keyhole, which is also fake and therefore detecting a lie of Rossi losing its key. Risotto Nero has such an analytical and smart way to approach matters, trying to stay calm and composed. He knows this mission can't fail, the stakes are high.

Still, he fails to control his feelings once again, as stone faced as he is, a remark even his team mates are using towards him, which is truly sweet in a weird way, how they joke about this with their leader. He got a new message from the boss, who revealed how poorly Illuso and Formaggio will get paid and basically disrespected on the waste disposal branch. Succumbing to his anger, Risotto Nero breaks his phone, not realizing it until he hears the cracking sounds of the broken phone and through his Stand again inside his bloody hand, who seem to express his true thoughts and burning anger, screaming in their usual noises ordinary people can’t hear.

Metallica here in this novel acts very metaphorical as they really seem to be a vessle for his true feelings at times he has trouble expressing at the exterior. Be it the need of a leader of a hitman team, his past trauma or other reasons, but Risotto Nero often seems not in tune about his own feelings until later on. It is heartbreaking in my eyes that the unfair treatment of his men causes such reactions inside him. He does not want such a reality for them, he as a leader can’t allow to fail them again. And he is so sick of getting treated like this by the boss, his resentment growing stronger as well as his own rebellious spirit he tried to bury to protect his team, despite being treated worse every day. It is an endless circle of torment these hitmen need to endure. The boss basically told them to put their lives on the line, it is understable how enraged Risotto gets by that remark.

Risotto‘s appearance also gets briefly mentioned. He seems to have scarred lips, afding to his very rough a gruff apperance. Are these scars because of a neglect of himself of are these results of his past encounters?

But there was an even stronger reason making Metallica roar, the door seems to be connected and controlled with magnetism, also being most likely the reason for his own permanent discomfort on this place, which only faded within the power outage, which he now realized, the dots are connected now inside his head.

Chapter 3

In the end, the police did throw everyone outside before leaving but knowing Risotto and his Stand, He camouflages himself yet again and enters the mansion once more, iron will determonstion to uncover the secret and to carry out his bloody mission.

Inside he not only realizes all the stolen and proudly displayed good from Rossi, but also meets the adoptive son, Gennaro, once again, who detects the presence of Risotto despite not being able to see him. All while Rossi knocks and screams behind the unopenable door.

The mystery as Risotto figured out was an electromagnet inside the door, which is also the cause of his Stand reacting before.

Interestingly this novel confirms another headcanon I had about Risotto since a long time, as he tells Gennaro about the mechanism of the electomagnet which he read inside a book about waste disposal. He really seems like an intellectual and sophisticated person, reason he seems to be naturally curious about a lot of the world and its functions around him.

Gennaro lies about his reason being here, but the knife in his hand reveals his true intention, as Risotto observes, seeing the boy as a hindrance and thinking about peacefully assassinating him as well if he keeps being an obstacle of his urgent mission. Seeing that Risotto thinks about this dark act but not carrying out this murder of a young man, shows his hestitation despite him being a ruthless and experienced hitman. But, he is also seemingly intruiged by him, curious about his motives and the plan of the boy and realizing the benefit of unrevealing the crime of the young man. Also we can see that Risotto very well decides how „brutally“ he will take out a murder of a person.

Risotto lays out his own observations and detective work how the disappearance of Rossi was made possible during the power outage, which was caused by the extreme indoor heating and the lights of the christmas tree.

Quite funny how Risotto also uses his Stand powers to make a metal Tombola piece float in the air, it must have confused the boy to no end, not knowing about the supernatural Stands. He reveals another meaning of the numbers, 77, the devil, which was Gennaro‘s own remark against his new father. The man the young boy planned to kill himself, just like Risotto Nero.

Risotto is seemingly impressed how well crafted Gennaro is in planning his own assassination, but even the boy begins to flinch by the ghostly presence of Risotto, being called a grim reaper, which was also always part of his overall design.

He is curious about the motives of the boy, who wants to reveal the secret in front of Rossi himself, so they release him, with ordering the boy to drop the knife.

Rossi, completely out of breath, storms out of the room behind the door, questioning his son about the reasons of his hostile acts.

Then Gennaro revealed it all, how much Rossi has tormented him all these years after making him witness the torturing and murder of his own mother, just to get adopted by him again, probably making him suffer even more behind the disguise of a noble man, a habit of Rossi‘s twisted games. He even underestimated the boy to remember him after all these years, showing his arrogance and belittlement of others. All while the boy suffered in silcence and played an act, until now the time for his own assassination and revenge has come.

A motive and reason we all know defines Risotto all to well, his whole life. We get a glimpse of a backflash inside Risotto‘s head of the funeral of his cousin, many years ago. His mind turning dark just like his clothes. Full of rage and seeking justice of losing someone caused by another person. A person who will soon endure the same cruel fate, to make up for it again. But at what cost?

Risotto sees himself inside the boy. He was in he same situation many years ago, being 14 as well, his mind and spirit not able to process the loss of a family member. But choosing revenge led Risotto to a path of no redemption, a path of endless crime, just to get disrespected at the daily and putting his own life at risk, just to witness his loved ones getting erased from life again, not being able to counter the perpetrator this time and to submit.

No, this is a scenario Risotto experienced himself, he knows what this path will involve. I am very sure Risotto wants another fate for this boy, despite knowing the cathartic feeling of getting the revenge one seeked out for many years. Would Risotto chose this path himself again when he was reliving time? A scenario we will never know an answer of but here we see him protecting the boy for basically ruining his future life, a life without a real future, filled with crime, surrounded by mostly mean spirited people despite the closest ones.

So he tells the boy leave, threathening him to kill him if he refuses. He will carry out the mission, not only for the job, but also to spare the boy a life full of darkness.

But Gennaro does not accept, he suffered way too much from what Rossi has done, sleepless nights, trauma, feeling helpless, he only wants the release of revenge. The boy shows a strong will of resolve. And Risoto can relate so much, he truly understand what the boy is feeling. He knows these moments, this burning hatred and just bringing justice to end this once and for all. This is affecting Risotto even in such a way, that he lets his guard down, revealing his appearance, making the boy gasp in surprise by his dark and ghostly presence.

The moment of tension and two spitits connecting only got suddenly interrupted by the police forces, not hestitating to shoot on Risotto Nero as a quick act to save Rossi. The leader shortly needed a moment to process what just happened but decided to remove enough iron from the bodies of the officers to make them unconscious - a fairly peaceful decision for a hitman. But is it because he does not want to harm people who are not involved in his job or is it rather to spare the uproar of the corpses of police workers? Maybe a mix, still, it shows quite a new light of Risotto, being surrounded by members of his team who do not spare the lives of people close to their target mission. At least sometimes. Even tho, these hitmen seem all to have their own moral codex they act on.

After all, Risotto Nero is still cruel and cold enough to traumatize the people around his targets with his brutal and merciless killings, like he just wanted to do some hours ago with all the guests and family Rossi. I really enjoy how morally grey Risotto is written which really makes him an appealing and interesting character, and I try to say this as unbiased as possible.

While this short moment of being focused on the police, Rossi takes action and stabs Gennaro with his own knife he dropped earlier, directly into the stomach of the young man.

Now it was finally the time Risotto needed to act, bringing a gruesome end and torturing Rossi with nails made from Metallica‘s powers, making him suffer a long time before he finishes finally his assassination.

It is very symbolic that Risotto basically crucifies Rossi with the way he pierced iron nails through hus hands, it is very symbolic for a multitude of reasons and made me think.

If we think about Christian Religion, the punishment of being cruzified was reserved for the sinners. A way to show dominance and control by the upper hand instances, which is Passione.

It was often used for „low-life“ criminals and slaves back then, basically mocking the luxurious life of Rossi.

The dramatic display of the corpse for everyone to see to give off a warning: do not act like this sinner. It is an open display of Rossi‘s long life of wrongdoings and crime and how he now must suffer the consequences, caused by his sins. Since it is also a tool of enforcing and showing social control, it also fits the method of Passione scaring other gangsters and enemies. They are in control and on the top. They are showing psychological warfare and invoking public fear.

But also, does this act also is an act of mercy to bring salvation to Gennaro? Making Rossi die for his cruel sins to release the darkened spirit of the young man? It is quite interesting to think about this potential interpretation.

Risotto then rushed to Gennaro, picking him up, telling him that Rossi will now suffer for his sins. As Gennaro is seemingly dying in Risotto‘s arms, smiling, he found finally peace of his mind. His last act is showing the tombola card with the number 90 again, and we finally get know its meaning.

Fear.

This is what Gennaro wanted to overcome, feared and suffering by his past, not being able to act, not knowing if the feel of being haunted by Rossi will ever fleet away, now that the boy was adopted by him, probably even abused by new methods of Rossi‘s twisted mind.

Fear is what is haunting Risotto Nero and his team since weeks, enforced by the boss, treating them like dogs, making with the hitman team whatever he feels to, not respecting them, humiliating them. No regard for their talents, always reminding Risotto of his failure as a leader he cannot stop feeling guilty for. He needs to act. He can’t let this continue. But it is fear he also feels, not wanting to lose more of his men. But what is the other path? An endless cycle of ridicule? Risotto has enough. In this moment the brave acts of Gennaro must have inspired him to also put a stop onto all this. He can’t let fear to keep controlling him and his men.

And then, while Risotto is scolding Gennaro in an endearing way, talking to him like as if he was scolding one of his subordinates, like a mentor, he transforms the iron tile inside the boys hand and forms a staple.

Chapter 4

A short time skip. The news were talking about the gruesome murder of Rossi by a gangster and how this gangster also tortured a young boy was saved by a „skilled police officer with a stapler“

…a story wirhout any sense. Only Risotto Nero, Gennaro and the reader know the truth about what happened. Risotto did an heroic act, no one will ever know about, probably not even Gennaro himself, since he was barely left conscious when Risotto stapled his wounds with Metallica.

It is unbelievably tragic but also needed, as Risotto Nero has a reputation to hold. On this day, he took a life but he also saved another. And not only in a physical way, Risotto prevented Gennaro, who returned into a orphanage, to chose the same path as him many years ago. He brought salvation to his tormented and young spirit, finally removing his tantalizer from life. The boy has now again a chance of a normal life, a life, Risotto does not have himself.

Once again, Risotto brought success to Passione, without ever getting properly rewarded, payment as low as ever. Nothing changed. Only Risotto‘s resolve has.

He gathered his men again, this time in person, inside their usual hiding spot we know of. Which seems to be a rare occurance as the hitman team remarks, last time being the day they got these dreadful horrible packages of thin pieces of one of their members.

The waste disposal transfer seems to be on hold, Illuso and Formaggio being spared from changing teams this time, and they begin bantering again. Knowing they are essential to the team and valueing being among them.

This scene also confirms the basically fanon of the fandom that Prosciutto is a smoker - he indeed does.

Suddenly Risotto began to talk, he is resolved. The boss won’t continue to play with them like cheap and disposable puppets. The incident with the determined Gennaro and collecting his strength depsite still being scared, made him realize to act as well. Or else he and his men will keep this vicious cycle of being a team of assassins who despite carrying out the missions with success, still are only good enough to get potentially transferred to deal with garbage. It is a clear message, like the boss always does.

It is finally enough, time to free themselves from the chains.

He swears to overthrow the boss and organization. His will and decision strong as iron. Wanting to claim what has been taken from „HIM“.

This remark seems to be a direct hint on his pride, how much he personally has lost in his life and how sick he is of all this, fighting for a better future, for himself. But also for his team. To avenge the deaths of Sorbet and Gelato, to make their loss not being unresolved.

His subordinates being in silence, making Risotto questioning how they will decide, will they stay loyal to the team or to the organization of Passione? By now, they can only hold themselves only the little clues and whereabouts of the boss, events which unfold in the storyline of Vento Aureo.

Until then, Risotto Nero will continue to observe, to catch every clue to fulfill his revenge and bring dark glory and a better future for his team, them alone, against the remaining world. The stakes are high, him being the leader is responsible for the outcome of this resolve. Unfortunately, we know how this decision will turn out in the end. They were so close but it still was all for nothing, the mostly self motivated team of assassins' fate has already decided and it will lose against the altruistic motives of the gang of Bruno Bucciarati.

Okay, this was long. I don’t know how many of you really did read this. If you did,

Thank you.

As a summary, this short novel is a fantasticly written story about Risotto Nero and his team of hitmen, also shining with hints of fanservice, as confirming many ideas the fans had about them, and letting them all stay in character without ever breaking depsite all the bantery conversations, how close these men are. In the end, they are all they have.

This story really did Risotto Nero justice as a character, not once ever conflicting with the hints we knew about his personality but also expanding on them.

He is ruthless, cold and stone-faced, as we witnessed already in the original source material. But what we learned in this novel about him throws a new light on him, showing also his softer side.

He IS concerned about his teammates, he feels guilty about his failures as a leader, he can absolutely not cope with grief and has trouble managing his outbursts of anger - even targeting against himself and hurting himself. He looks after the wellbeing if his men, concerned about their mental health and respecting their trauma, not ever ridiculing them and their feelings. Risotto Nero is absolutely not emotionless, his inner world and thoughts are rich, which he just isn’t able to express for probably a multitude of reasons. He even shows compassion for strangers. There was no reason to save the girl from falling harshly to the ground, there was no reason to spare Gennaro, he even knows Risotto‘s face and could be therefore a danger in the future.

But he did help them. And the most cruel fact about this is, no one of them or the others, probably not even his men, will know about these acts and truths (only if they will maybe figure it out by themselves by the staples).

He is not a person who wants to be a hero, he knows he isn’t and he will never be, too many lives did he take by now. But, these little deeds to mercy and kindness are probably a secret of him, no one ever needs to know about. He has his own reasons to act, his own way. His own moral code and his own way to act.

This all makes Risotto Nero such a very well written character in my eyes, combining some of the worst human sins but also showing signs of compassion and protectiveness, like preventing others from a path full of pain or wanting to fight for his men, to finally get what they deserve.

I thank the author of this story, Ayato Toya, by a lot. This novel was a joy to read, which I already did by a couple of times. Also thanks to Hudgyn for the wonderful translation, which is very well and clearly written.

This novel probably strenghtened my own feelings for this character by a lot. I can’t express how happy I am this was written at all, if now this story gets and animated adaptation, my life will be complete. Come on, who does not want to see Risotto inside a suit?

Thank you for reading.

Oh yeah, here is my artwork of him again I made for this novel, I did imagine how he might look with a suit.

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requiemforthepoets · 9 months ago

Text

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

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snowstormarts · 4 days ago

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hi ,,, what if ,,, you wrote ,,, teaching daemon how to kiss first time ,,,, hello ,,,,,, if thats okay ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,;;;,,,,,,,.,,,///,,,

I'm always down to give Daemon some more love but I do have to confess that I struggled a little writing this oneshot here ^^" But I still hope you guys enjoy it, also feel free to send in Ideas & Requests, the ask box is still open :D

This oneshot isn't beta read and was also written in like a a day & a half xD So sorry for any typos or such

"Kissing 101 for Game Bugs turned Human!"

[Daemon x GN!Reader] [Divider Credit]

It wasn't everyday that you got to date a game bug, let alone one that was very attractive and didn't try to infect the other inhabitants or break the game in any serious, unrecoverable manner. He was simply just having some fun, trying to annoy you, scare you even and then one day he just...fell for you. It was a foreign concept, he didn't know he had that code in him to feel real, actual real love and not just another empty line of Code. Quiet frankly he was a little nervous at the beginning, even if it was hard to see with his limited facial expressions.

So then, when the day came where you confessed your feelings for him, he was ecstatic he had assumed it would end in Friendship maybe even Hate. He was sure he didn't do anything that would warrant anyone to look at him with such kind eyes and yet, here you were. Confessing your love to him, making his heart speed up to the point where he thought it was programmed to spring out of his chest and burst into confetti if anyone ever choose to Love him.

After he had calmed himself he confessed without hesitation, asking almost in whisper if he could share a kiss with you. He will never forget the moment where your lips met, it was strange to you that much was clear from your confused yet delighted hums. It truly was the strangest kiss you ever had and probably will have, it wasn't bad, just strange in a nice, special Daemon way and you wouldn't have had it any other way.

You promised him afterwards that he would be the first one to be realized. He didn't even have to wait long since the first thing that happened the next morning was you walking up to him, smiling as you offered him to be realized. It was a quick process, his excitement was clear to see on his now very expression full face he was looking at himself. He was no longer full of glitched textures, he wasn't a bug anymore, he wasn't some broken sprite he was himself, Daemon.

It was sweet watching him, even when he stopped and turned to you with a wide smile you could see his excitement still burning under his skin. You had expected that at this point he would've run over to you, lifting you up and spinning you round and around but he just stood there. Not even a kiss, after a few more awkward minutes of silence he finally asked you something, something that made you realize that being a Game Bug was very, very different from being a fully programmed object.

"Why doesn't my code work? I gave it in right way, Player_Kiss = true...Am I doing something wrong? Do humans have a different code they use?"

Seems like it's your job to teach him how to human, starting with how to kiss you.

⊱ ─────────── {⋅. ☣🪲 .⋅} ─────────── ⊰

The first lesson you taught him was the importance of breathing and taking breaks from kissing, you rather not risk one of you passing out from lack of it. You don't need yet another embarrassing story on your pile of embarrassments that would be used by your anxiety in the middle of the night or Doug.

The second lesson was an unplanned one, you two were enjoying watching a movie on Telly when it showed two of the characters giving each other a forehead kiss. It was a rather sweet moment which only got even cuter when you turned to Daemon who had been nudging your arm, his head was tilted to the side similar to a confused puppy.

"Why are they kissing each others forehead? Did they miss the lips or is this some form of enhanced kissing? But then why didn't I have a code for it...Is it because they had a fight the last time? Do you get banned from kisses when you have a fight?"

"It's another way to kiss someone, forehead kisses can be platonic or romantic. Many parents kiss their kid on the forehead. Sometimes friends will also kiss your forehead or your cheek, in some country's cheek kisses are a way to greet others.

"Are forehead kisses also a form of greeting someone?"

"Well, I guess if you know the person well and they're comfortable with it you could kiss them on the forehead as a greeting. But normally at least from what I know, forehead kisses are reserved to show care and love for someone."

"You humans are truly confusing..."

"Hey! You're human now, don't forget that!"

"Hmm, true..."

A comfortable silence fell between you two as you continued to watch the movie, in the end all was good even if the main character had sacrificed himself to safe his love and his clone. And just as you were about to ask Daemon his opinion on the movie he turned to face you, his hand lifted up your chin as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

"I need to gather data about this Forehead and Cheek kissing, would you allow me to practice on you, my love?"

"Of course we can, what would you like to start with? I myself prefer to go with a-" you cut yourself short as you saw your partner lean closer at top speed. "Wait! Daemon, that's too fast!!!"

You both groaned in pain, holding your foreheads as you slowly recovered from the sudden headbutt. The lesson was cut short as you both suffered from a killer headache, at least the next day you explained that he needed to lean in slowly and to aim for the top or middle of the forehead and not between your eyebrows.

A few days later you decided that he was ready for third and last lesson, well it's more like kissing practice but still you count it as a lesson instead of a test or such. You had enough talking about it, kissing needs physical practice anyway and you were the perfect test dummy! Especially since you don't think Amir or Betty would be that happy if Daemon started kissing them out of nowhere...

"This is the last lesson, today you will learn how to properly kiss another person, well more specifically me but you get what I mean!" You waved your hand ignoring his teasing smile as you continued to speak.

"Today there's much more touch needed, you will learn all the different ways how to kiss another. From kissing someones hand to a regular kiss, maybe if everything goes right I will even teach you how to french kiss."

"...I don't want to kiss, Scandalabra."

"No, no that's just what its called it has nothing to do with Scandalabra. I would never let you go through that, trust me your lips are only for me."

"Good, I don't wanna be near him." You nodded in agreement.

"Same here but back to the lesson! First we will do a hand kiss, it can be romantic or to show respect to someone or both. I will demonstrate it and then you do the same with me, got that?"

"Got it." He replied, holding his hands out to you. You gently grabbed one and caressed the back of it before placing a kiss in the middle of it.

"Now it's your turn and remember, be gentle. Theres no need to rush." Holding your hand out you watched him as he grabbed your hand a bit firmer then he usually does. It took a minute or two before he had gathered up the nerves to lean down and place a kiss on each one of your knuckles.

When he looked up at you, eyes meeting one another as he smiled with so much joy that you were sure he could've replaced the sun in this very moment to bring light to even the darkest spots in your home.

"Did I do it right?"

"Yes, you did a great job. I just didn't expect you to go for the knuckles, it was quiet sweet though so no complaints from me." His smile grew wider as he intertwined your hands together.

"Now to a kiss on the cheek, you have to watch to not bump noses besides that don't add too much pressure into the kiss. Our cheeks are quiet soft and squishy but they can still hurt, let me show you." Without hesitation you poked and squished his face all the while he was trying to nip at your fingers in retaliation.

After you had your fun, you followed your own instructions ignoring the way your partner was pouting at you. His cheeks turned rosy from the mix of affection and the cheek squishing from before, which only deepened after you placed a kiss on his cheek and then another and another and another.

You only stopped once he complained about having his turn. One thing you always noticed and loved about him were his hands, they always felt tingly, static-y. It reminded you of those old, heavy TV's that when you touched the screen would having this energy around them. His kisses on the other hand were normal, maybe it lingered a bit longer but you didn't think much about it. But you could swear that sometimes you felt something brush gently against the back of your neck and when you turn around there would be nothing, maybe it was just your hair or some dust floating around?

"Was that good?" He asked again, if he had a tail it would be wagging back and forth wildly as you nodded again. His foot tapped against the ground in anticipation. "Can we kiss now? The regular one, not the other one."

For a second you thought of staying on track but the mix of his excitement and the worry of him trying to speed up the progress and causing another headache fiasco made you rethink it. You were getting a little impatient yourself if you were honest, so why not?

"Fine but only because you're that adorable. Now, listen closely" he leaned closer to you, hands resting on each side of you or well hand though it did feel like the couch had dipped from some unknown weight not even a moment ago.

"We both will have to angle our faces, when you need to breath do so through your nose or break the kiss up ok? No holding your breath until you pass out just because you wanted more, we can always kiss again after we caught our breaths."

"Of course." Without much a due you pulled him closer, letting him fall onto you and cage you between the couch and himself. Pulling his head down by the neck and kissing him like he was going to fade away any second now, he let out a pleasant groan and then you felt it again.

Hands all across your body, on your neck, hips, arms and even your tights and those were soon followed by the feeling of kisses. Your neck was the main target but you could feel it also along your back, hands and even your legs, they left behind the static again which soon turned into a comforting heat.

They only disappeared when you two parted, taking in as much air as possible. Foreheads resting against each other, you with your eyes closed and Daemons white, pupil-less eyes staring right at you with a wide grin.

"Did you like it my love? I can give you more if you want, I need all the practice to perfect my kissing techniques after all~"

You never could deny him, especially now that he had stocked the ember into a burning, hungry flame. So you continued to share kisses and sweet nothings until the sun went down and the moonlight illuminated your body's. What was to come next is only to be known between you, Daemon and the moon.

#date everything imagines #date everything #de daemon #date everything x reader #daemon x reader #Koa just sitting there staring at the wall like; 👁_👁

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imaginespazzi · 10 months ago

Text

Part 9: These Moments Of Ours

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Just crash, it's our time now (to make this work second time around)

(In which a people-pleasing author gives the people what they've been begging for)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff with a little bit Angst

Words: 7.2K Words

TW: Explicit Sexual Content, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Thank you for being oh so patient with me because I know I really made y'all wait and hopefully it'll be worth the wait. I'm gonna keep this pretty short and sweet today so onto the usual. Please keep sending me your thoughts and theories; they're the best motivation a girl could ask for. I did edit but feel free to point out the inevitable typos/mistakes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves :)

April 2030

UConn 84 Notre Dame 82

The blue and white section of the Moda Center crowd erupts in cheers as the final buzzer rings through the stadium. Confetti rains down on the court as the UConn Huskies are crowned national champions once again. Paige’s scream is drowned out by KK’s louder whoop as the two of them excitedly wrap their arms around each other, jumping up and down like they’re college students all over again.

“Oh okay, love the inclusion,” Ice rolls her eyes but it morphs into a grin as her former teammates pull her into their group hug, all three of them making a ruckus that’s drowned out by the crowd around them roaring in excitement.

“Can y’all be a little quieter. I’m tryna mourn my Irish in peace,” Sonia says lousily, glaring at them in irritation as she fiddles with her clover bracelet.

“Oh cheer up Citron,” Paige teases her Wings teammate, “at least y’all finally made it back to the Final Four.”

“Fuck all the way off Bueckers-”

“GO HUSKIES,” a loud voice interrupts Sonia’s grumbling as Jana rushes into their section, the Valkyries center smiling vibrantly as she crashes into her old friends, “BLEED BLUE BABY!”

“Bleed blue!” the three UConn faithful chorus back as Sonia glumly saunters over to Maddy Westbeld who had come over with Jana, the two Fighting Irish alum sharing a commiserating hug.

“This is why everyone finds you Huskies insufferable,” Maddy says with disgust.

“Because we just keep winning? There, there little leprechauns,” Ice taunts, light-heartedly patting Maddy and Sonia’s heads as both of them bristle and flash the Wings forward with a synchronized middle finger, “I’m sure you’ll catch up to us never.”

Paige is about to join in on the ribbing when KK turns to Jana with a frown, “where’s Azzi? I thought all of y’all came together.”

She shouldn’t care this much anymore. It’s been five years and Paige thinks it’s a little ridiculous how quickly her ears perks up at the mention of her girlfriend, thinks it’s a little pathetic how she leans in closer to Jana, embarrassingly eager to hear the answer to KK’s question.

“We did. She wanted to go call her parents to check on Stephie,” Jana explains.

KK rolls her eyes, her face as disappointed as Paige feels, “of course she did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jana narrows her eyes at the shorter woman, a protective edge to her tone.

“It means that this avoidance bullshit Azzi’s on is pretty fucking tired,” KK sneers.

“KK bro chill,” Ice steps in immediately, looking worriedly between her two friends as Jana’s eyes flash with fire.

“She’s checking on her daughter KK. She’s not trying to avoid anything,” Jana’s quietness is in stark contrast with the loud cheers around them and Paige swallows the guilt clawing at her throat. This is their fault. Her and Azzi’s. They’d caused an earthquake in their own lives and the aftershocks had rippled throughout their friends and families, creating rubble where there had once been solid foundations.

KK laughs bitterly, “she had to check on her daughter right now? The game ended like three fucking seconds ago and she couldn’t just wait?”

“You’re being unfair.”

“Why are you always defending her?”

“Because she’s my teammate and it’s not all her fault,” Jana spits out, eyes briefly darting towards Paige who digs her fingernails into her palm, “it’s not her fault that she doesn’t always feel welcome around certain people.”

“And how about the rest of us people who’d really like to see her once in a while?” hurt tinges in KK’s words, “she can’t put the other shit aside for one fucking second?”

Jana opens her mouth, ready to defend her Azzi again but before she can speak, a calm voice cuts in, “hi guys.”

Goosebumps rush up Paige’s arms as she takes in the sight of the ex-girlfriend. There’s nothing extravagant to Azzi’s outfit, a simple UConn sweatshirt paired with black ripped jeans and minimal jewelry but she looks as radiant as always. There’s an awkward tension in the air as Azzi warily takes in the way KK and Jana are still glaring at each other. Her eyes accidentally lock with Paige and the blonde can see the same guilt of this is our collateral damage reflected back in those dark brown orbs.

“Hi Azzi,” Ice is the first one to break the silence, wrapping the Valkyries shooting guard in a hug, “how’s Stephanie?”

Paige watches as Azzi’s eyes light up at the mention of her daughter's name, all of her previous apprehension gone as she begins to gush about the little girl, “she’s good. Somehow manipulated my dad into letting her stay up past her bedtime but good. She’s only two years old but already such a damn menace,” the brunette’s gaze wanders over to KK, “I guess that was to be expected huh? Any child of mine was bound to be one.”

KK cracks a half smile, bumping her shoulder against Jana’s as a truce sign, “you call it being menace, we call it being smart as hell right El Alfy?”

“Dude that’s what I tell her every time,” Jana immediately accepts the white flag, slinging an arm around the shorter woman, “Azzi just has genius children. Me, you, Nés and now Stephie.”

Ice gawks at the two of them, “seriously?”

“Well you see Ice, statistically she can’t have all genius children. Someone needed to be average,” KK mocks, high-fiving a giggling Jana.

“Are y’all seeing this bullying?” Ice rounds on Paige and Azzi, hands on her hips with dramatically wide eyes, “are y’all really gonna let them bully your favorite child like this?”

“We don’t have favorites,” Paige and Azzi say at the same, pausing abruptly at the resurgence of familiar synchronicity between them. They glance briefly at each other, shuffling nervously, before immediately looking away.

“I hate all of y’all,” Ice pouts, petulantly folding her arms against her chest.

“Aw cheer up Icey,” Jana pats the top of Ice’s head, “how about a round of shots at the hotel bar to cheer you up?” she turns to Maddy and Sonia, who’d been having their own conversation, with a devilish grin, “losing team’s paying.”

“Y’all are sore winners,” Maddy huffs.

Paige’s eyes dart towards Azzi, waiting for the younger woman to come up with a shallow excuse like she usually does to get out of having to spend more time with the blonde than necessary. And she knows that it’s unfair of her, knows that it’s only natural for someone to actively avoid being stuck in the same place as their past -thinks only a fool like her could want to be in their ex’s presence- but every time Azzi escapes being around her, Paige can’t help the disappointment that curls in her stomach.

“Y’all coming,” KK asks, a slight edge to her voice as she twists to look at Paige and Azzi.

“Of course,” Paige grins, locking arms with Sonia who immediately groans, “I’m not passing up free drinks. Especially not when the Irish are paying.”

“Az?” KK’s eyes are hopeful.

Azzi bites her lip and Paige can almost see the cogs turning in her brain before she schools her features into a soft smile, “yeah. I’ll come.”

***

Paige isn’t sure how it happens. Well actually, that’s not quite right. She definitely has an idea of how it happened. She’s not quite sure when KK, Ice and Jana had had time to devise the plan but she’s certain that’s how it happened. Because really, there’s no other reasonable explanation for how she and Azzi have ended up being the only two people, from their previous party of seven, that are still sitting at the bar. Maddy and Sonia had left first, muttering under their breaths about not wanting to be around insufferable winners. Ice had been the next to leave, making up an excuse about how she wanted to call her boyfriend. Then Jana had apparently needed the bathroom. When she hadn’t returned in a solid 15 minutes, it was KK’s turn. A barely disguised grin and a hard-to-believe lie of I think Jana got lost, I should go help her on her lips as she’d excused herself to the sound of Paige and Azzi’s protests.

The two of them sit in awkward silence for a bit until Azzi suddenly bursts out laughing, the corner of her eyes crinkling. Paige regards her with amusement, trying to ignore the way the sound of the younger woman laughing feels like hearing her favorite song come on in the car on a warm summer road trip.

“You’re a little young to be going crazy,” she remarks.

“Shut up,” Azzi rolls her eyes, lightly punching Paige’s shoulder, “it’s just- they’re still all really shitty liars.”

Paige laughs, “and they still come up with the dumbest plans.”

“Do you remember when they locked us in the Werth changing rooms when we had that stupid fight-”

“Hey,” Paige interrupts indignantly, “it wasn’t stupid-”

“It was definitely stupid-”

“You asked Carol to drive you to rehab instead of me.”

“Because you had practice at the same time.”

“I wouldn’t have minded being five minutes late to practice.”

Azzi snorts, “more like half an hour and you sure as shit wouldn’t have been fine when coach would have yelled at you and made you run suicides after.”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Paige shrugs, “running suicides would have been worth it for an extra hour with you.”

Azzi stares at her, mouth opening and closing several times before she finally looks away, a soft sigh falling from her lips, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige says, unable to keep the defensiveness from creeping into her words.

“You are,” Azzi slips off the barstool, “you are and you don’t even know it.”

“Azzi,” Paige curls her hand around the other woman’s bicep, pulling her in to stop her from leaving and it’s a bad idea because now they’re too close and her heartbeat quickens immediately at the fact that if she leaned in just a little bit more, there would be no more space left between them, “what am I doing?”

“You’re- you-” Azzi stutters, gulping as her eyes briefly flicker down to Paige’s lips, “you’re making me feel.”

“Making you feel what?” Paige presses.

For a second, Paige thinks Azzi might just give in to her heart, might just tell the truth but then something hardens in her face, and the next word that slips out of her mouth has both of them going rigid, “how’s your wife Paige?”

“Az-”

“I should go to bed,” Azzi says firmly, trying to wriggle out of Paige’s tightening grip.

“Azzi-”

“I have an early flight and I should probably wake up a little earlier than I normally would cause you know Jana’s gonna need me to wake her up,” Azzi rambles still trying to twist her arm out of Paige’s hold.

“Hold on-”

“Can you just let go of me-”

“I’m trying to tell-”

“I really need to get to bed-’

“Az-”

“I have to go-”

“Azzi I’m getting a divorce,” Paige bursts out; the admission feels light a heavy weight off her chest.

Azzi stops fighting against the blonde’s grip, “oh.”

“We’ve- um-” Paige’s throat feels dry as Azzi’s eyes continue to bore into her, “we’ve been separated for a while and I finally-uh- finally filed the papers a little while ago. So um- to your question- I uh- I don’t know how she is because I- I don’t- there uh- there isn’t- there isn’t a wife.”

There’s silence for a bit as Azzi’s head bops up and down as she processes Paige’s revelation, “I’m um-” she clears her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s your fault,” and that’s not completely true -not when Olivia had repeatedly thrown the past back in Paige’s face- but she doesn’t think Azzi needs to know that, doesn’t want the younger woman to feel guilty for things beyond her control. She’s confused when Azzi flinches, like a memory has just pinched her nerves.

“Right,” Azzi bites, “I really should- I really should be going to bed.”

Something gloomy settles across Paige’s heart as she nods at the brunette’s words, slipping out of her own chair as they start walking towards the elevator in the lobby. She feels antsy, like she’s leaving something incomplete. The silence rings loud between them as they wait for the elevator doors to open, keeping as much distance as they can from each other. It feels like ages before the familiar ding! finally rings out around them. Despite the abundance of room inside, the doorway into the elevator is rather condensed and their shoulders brush against each other as they make their way inside. Audible sighs involuntarily roll off of their tongues at the brief second of contact as they both shiver from each other’s familiar touch. There’s enough space now that they could easily move away -they probably should move away- but instead they stay pressed together. The sound of their uneven breathing fills the elevator as the doors close in front of them.

“I’m uh- I’m on the third floor,” Azzi says as she presses the #3 button, “you?”

“Fifth,” Paige breathes out, eyes fixated on the goosebumps that appear on the back of Azzi’s neck as her hands shake while pushing the #5 button.

The elevator jolts up and Paige immediately reaches for Azzi’s hips to steady her, eliciting a small gasp from the other woman. She waits for Azzi to move away but the brunette stays put and Paige doesn’t move her hands.

The doors open on the third floor. Both of them suck in a sharp breath.

Azzi doesn’t get out.

***

Paige wakes up to the dreadful sound of her alarm clock blaring around her room. It takes a second before the memories of last night start pounding against her skull. Her body aches in the best way possible. The room is still dark -just like it had been last night- and she closes her eyes, trying to revisit the feeling of Azzi’s lips pressed against her forehead, right before the younger woman -with her hair disheveled and bitemarks littered across her jawline- had left Paige’s room.

Paige hadn’t asked Azzi to stay. She wonders if she should have; wonders if Azzi would have agreed if she’d asked. But she hadn’t asked and Azzi hadn’t stayed. She regrets it a little bit. She wonders if Azzi does too. And Paige thinks that maybe that’s just the melancholic truth about their tragic story.

Maybe they’re destined to always regret.

***

April 2033

Paige thinks Azzi’s guest room air conditioning must be broken or something. There’s no other explanation for why, despite having kicked off every single blanket, she feels like she’s tossing and turning in red hot lava. She feels restless, like she has a purpose that she’s leaving unfulfilled. All the different scenes from tonight are rushing through her head, but her heart keeps stuttering on the last one; an image of the way Azzi had looked at her before they’d kissed good night.

Azzi had asked her to stay even if she’d hidden it under a lame disguise of it being too late and Paige being too angry to drive home alone. And it’s not completely false that her blood is still boiling, their little encounter with fucking asshole still dangerously lingering in her mind as she thinks of the 101 ways she would have liked to murder him. But they both know that the minute Azzi had run her hand down Paige’s back, the moment she’d called her baby, the moment she’d given her the reassurance she was too scared to ask for but needed desperately, Paige had felt all the anger in her body replaced by that familiar sense of calm only Azzi had ever been able to provide.

And after that had been decided, they’d both hesitated in the hallway, looking back and forth between Azzi’s master bedroom and the guestroom. Paige doesn’t know what had possessed her, why she’d decided tonight of all nights to play this false chivalrous rule-abiding good girl persona when it was the last thing she wanted to do. Because the last couple of weeks had been hell. The stupid rules had been hell. Going slow had been hell. Having to pull away from Azzi and walk out the door every night when all she wanted to was to lose herself in the brunette’s arms had been hell. But she’d done it for Azzi. She’d done it because there isn’t a thing in the world that she wouldn’t do for Azzi. Except tonight had been different. There had been that look on Azzi’s face -the way the younger woman had bitten her lips, the way her eyes had been hooded over, the way her cheeks had been flushed as her gaze roamed over Paige’s body- and it had morphed into one of pure disappointment when Paige had said she’d take the guestroom.

You’re a fucking idiot Paige Bueckers, she thinks to herself as she bolts right up, the image finally burning a little too bright behind her eyelids to continue this façade of trying to sleep. Perhaps it’s pointless. It’s late and Azzi loves her sleep; there’s no way she’s awake. But Paige slides out of bed anyways, breathing unevenly as she turns on the nightlight and walks towards her door. She doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t have any idea what she’d even say if Azzi is, by some miracle of god, even awake. But fuck it, Paige needs to see this through. She pauses at the door, hands wrapping around the cold handle as she gives herself one more chance to back out. Really, she doesn’t even know why she’s so nervous. It’s Azzi. Her Azzi.

Paige twists the handle to tug the door open.

Azzi’s eyes widen in surprise, her fisted hand -that had clearly been raised to knock on the mahogany door- freezing in place as she swallows and Paige is mesmerized by the way it highlights the veins in her neck. Her eyes move downwards, fixating on where Azzi’s oversized t-shirt hangs looser on one-side, leaving her right shoulder and collarbone on display. The shirt right above her thighs, giving Paige the perfect display of Azzi’s toned long legs looming beneath and the blonde gulps at the sight.

“Hi,” Azzi speaks first, the low graveliness in her tone causing a coil of want to wrap itself around Paige’s stomach.

“Hey,” Paige whispers back, “couldn’t sleep?”

Azzi bites her lip, “no- I just uh-, people always say- like when Jana sleeps over or something- she always says that- that the guest room is um- it’s too cold so I just- I wanted to make sure- wanted to ask-” she clears her throat, taking a step forward as she look earnestly at Paige, “are you cold?”

“So cold,” Paige confirms, moving closer to Azzi so their chests are almost touching.

“You could um-” Azzi licks her teeth, “you could stay in Stephie’s room-”

“I could?” Paige asks, pressing herself flush against the younger woman, hands wrapping around her waist. There’s barely space for air between them but she wants to get closer, wants to stitch herself into Azzi’s skin and keep them intertwined forever.

“You could but,” Azzi’s hand trails Paige’s biceps, causing the blonde to shiver, before finally interlocking around her neck, “I think- I think her bed might be a little small for you.”

“Way too small,” Paige breathes against Azzi’s skin as she nips at the brunette’s jawline, before ghosting her lips against her neck, leaving a trail of mine mine mine down her throat.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice is breathless as she tilts her head, hissing when Paige bites harshly right above her collarbone, immediately soothing it with her tongue, “I think- I think-fuck” she cuts herself with a moan as Paige turns them around, maneuvering them back towards the bed that suddenly looks far more inviting then it had before, “I just think-”

“You think too much,” Paige says softly, finally removing her lips from Azzi’s skin -she misses the taste of it immediately- so she can smile teasingly at the brunette.

“Do I?” Azzi grins dopily.

Paige rolls her eyes, continuing to walk them backwards, “way, way too much.”

They’re forced to a halt when the back of Azzi’s thighs collide against the backframe of the bed. It feels like a turning point, like they could unlock a new chapter or keep themselves on the one they’re already on. And while Paige would really to skip forward, she’ll be okay with whatever happens next as long as the story being written is still theirs, still about her and Azzi.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers again -and Paige loves the way Azzi’s lips curl around the syllable of her name- as she bunches the blonde’s shirt in her hands, “make me stop thinking.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Paige promises before they both go tumbling into the mattress, their lips colliding in a heated kiss. It feels like they’re trying to meld themselves into each other, like their bodies are carving out an indent of you and i just always feel right against the bedsheets.

“I want this off,” Azzi breathes out between kisses, hands lifting the edge of Paige’s shirt, “off, off, off.”

“So bossy,” Paige smirks, leaning up off of Azzi to take off her shirt in a tantalizingly slow manner, enjoying the way the brunette’s eyes darken as they glide across her abs first and then her breasts, “enjoying the sho- fuck Az.”

The words are stolen from her mouth as Azzi swirls her tongue around one erect nipple, her hands cupping Paige’s ass to balance the blonde on top of her. She’s always known exactly how to get Paige to shut the fuck up. Paige groans as Azzi flips them over, shifting herself to press her thigh in between Paige’s legs and the blonde can’t help but grind up against it, desperate for some much needed friction, as Azzi sucks a possessive bruise against her jaw.

“Missed this,” Azzi whispers, as she kisses down Paige’s neck, “and this,” a kiss pressed against her collarbone, “and these,” Azzi presses her lips softly to each breast, “and this,” against Paige’s stomach, “and these,” two featherlight kisses are peppered against her hip bones, “and I really missed these.”

“Azzi,” Paige moans as the brunette’s lips glide across the inside of her thighs, taking her sweet time marking only i could ever make you feel like this against every inch of Paige’s skin.

Azzi stops right above the edge of Paige’s boxers before slowly peeling them off as sparkling brown eyes staring up at her with a myriad of unspoken emotions that Paige could spend a lifetime trying to memorize, “missed all of this. Missed everything about you. Missed you so much baby.”

Vulnerability echoes in Azzi’s voice as she slowly moves herself back up, hands coming to cup Paige’s face as they press their foreheads together. And it’s not like she hadn’t known that Azzi must have missed her in these last couple of years. But there’s a part of Paige that had thought that there was no way Azzi could have missed her as much as she missed Azzi. Because missing Azzi had felt all consuming, like there was a constant noose around her neck that got tighter and tighter with every day that passed by. But there’s something about the way the words reverberate around the room, something about the way Azzi looks like she can finally breathe again after saying it out loud that it hits Paige; it hits her that they’ve both been suffocating without each other.

“I missed you too,” she breathes out, tears pooling at the edge of her eyes, “missed you so fucking much Azzi.”

“Yeah?” Azzi whispers, lips catching the lone tear that falls from Paige’s eyes, “how much?”

Paige shudders as Azzi’s fingers teasingly ghost over her wet folds, “s-so much. Azzi please. Need it so bad. Need you so bad.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Azzi repeats Paige’s own words back to her before she finally gives her what she’s desperately been craving, two fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of her pussy as her thumb rubs circles against Paige’s clit.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that-” a litany of curses waterfall from Paige’s lips as she bucks her hips up against Azzi’s hand, “fuck please.”

“Please what?” Azzi asks coyly, fingers moving at a faster face as she hides a grin against Paige’s neck, “gotta tell me what you want baby.”

“W-want your mouth please- please Azzi-baby please,” Paige begs, writhing underneath her when Azzi immediately complies, lips attaching to her clit as she adds another finger, “fuck Azzi- I’m so close.”

“I know baby,” the words vibrate against Paige’s core, sending another bout of ecstasy shooting up her spine as she feels that familiar buildup in her stomach.

“Azz I’m gonna-”

“I know. Let go baby. I’ve got you. I’m gonna catch you I promise,” Azzi whispers.

And it’s those words, that promise, that sends Paige over the edge, a cry of Azzi’s name falling from her lips. Because she knows Azzi means them for a lot more than just this moment, that those words -the promise- are born out of something deeper than lust. And maybe neither of them are quite ready to acknowledge that yet, not ready to make vows that teeter dangerously close to the ones they watched themselves break in the past, but it lingers between them, like a string made of we’ve always been inevitable connecting their hearts to each other.

Azzi slowly eases her fingers out of Paige, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the older woman’s stomach as she recovers from her high, before looking up at her with a smirk. Never breaking eye contact, Azzi slips her fingers into her own mouth, leisurely sucking at them as she watches Paige’s face contort with desire.

“Was I good?” she asks teasingly and Paige growls.

“How have you gotten better at that? Actually you know what never mind,” Paige shakes her head, “I don’t want to know that.”

Azzi laughs, hiding her face against Paige’s neck, “only that good for you.”

“Good,” Paige tightens her arms around the woman on top of her and then scrunches her face as she feels the material of Azzi’s shirt itch against her wrists, “well this is unfair.”

“What is?” Azzi hum backs.

“I’m fully fucking naked and you haven’t taken a single thing off,” Paige grumbles as she coaxes Azzi’s face out of her neck, hands gripping the edge of her shit, “take this off.”

Azzi stills, her previous serene expression replaced by something more nervous, as she lifts herself up so she’s straddling the older woman’s hips, “Paige-”

“What’s wrong?” Paige’s senses are on high alert immediately as she rises up herself, maneuvering them so Azzi’s fully on her lap.

“I just-,” Azzi draws in a deep breath, looking downwards as she chews her lips.

“Hey,” Paige whispers, lifting the younger woman’s chin back up before pressing their foreheads together, “talk to me baby.”

“Can we just-” Azzi plays with the end of Paige’s hair, “can we maybe just-” she cocks her head towards the nightlight on the desk, “do you think we could turn the light off?”

“What?” Paige asks confusedly, “Azzi I’ve seen you naked-”

“Not since- not since I had Stephie,” Azzi interrupts, cowering under Paige’s intense stare, “the lights- the lights were off that one time and the other time I don't think- I don’t think we were sober enough for me to care or for you to remember so can we just-”

“Azzi,” Paige cups the younger woman’s face, “baby there is no amount of alcohol in the world that could make me forget you. Trust me I’ve tried,” she slips her hand under Azzi’s shirt, caressing the skin underneath, “but every time I see you baby, I memorize every little part of you,” she dances her fingertips across where she remembers those stretch marks -the ones Azzi is so afraid of her seeing again- are littered across her stomach, “and whether I’m sober or drunk or something in between, I always think every little bit of you is perfect.”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, something akin to awe coating her voice.

“Just wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel baby. Please,” Paige wraps her fingers around the edge of Azzi’s shirt again, “can I?”

“Okay,” Azzi concedes quietly, lifting her arms so Paige can finally tug the offending shirt off.

Paige gives herself a moment to look at the woman in front of her, the woman whose body she’s seen countless times yet she swears that it feels like a different adventure every time. And then she lets herself have a taste, running her tongue lazily across Azzi’s skin, as she slowly maneuvers them so she can hover above the younger woman. A soft smile flitter across her face as she rubs her fingers over the tattoo printed across Azzi’s ribcage. It’s a purple S tattoo, with butterfly wings fanning out on either side. For Stephie.

Keeping her eyes trained on the darker-skinned , she brushes her lips across the stretch marks on the darker-skinned woman’s abdomen and she hopes that Azzi can read the all of your imperfections are still made for me that Paige is spelling out against her skin. She uses her teeth to pull down Azzi’s panties, smirking to herself when she hears the younger woman's breath hitch above her. Eyes still interlocked with Azzi’s, Paige is purposefully slow as she licks a stripe up Azzi’s folds, relishing the way the other woman’s eyes roll back into her head.

“So fucking wet,” she hums, “all for me?”

“You know-” Azzi shudders when Paige’s lips brush against her clit, still teasing, “you know it is.”

Paige smirks, “only for me.”

“Please,” Azzi begs as Paige continues to lazily lap at her pussy, giving her something but not quite enough.

“Say it,” Paige demands, harshly biting against Azzi’s inner thigh as she brings up a hand to rub infinity signs around Azzi’s clit, “say it’s only for me.”

“It’s only for you-” Azzi cuts herself off with a scream as Paige plunges her tongue deep inside her, setting a tempo she knows will have Azzi seeing stars.

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige coos as she adds two fingers with her tongue, “always so good for me.”

“Fuck,” Azzi fists the bedsheets, trying to gain some semblance of control as she writhes under Paige’s touch, “feels so good. Paige please.”

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know what you need baby.”

And that’s the thing about them. That’s why it’s good every single time. Because Paige knows every little crevice of Azzi’s body like it’s her own, knows exactly where to touch and how to touch to elicit those little gasps of pleasure that she wishes she could record and listen to on loop. And it doesn’t matter how long they go without each other in between, coming back always feels like home. But as much as she loves the feeling of coming back, Paige never wants to feel it again. Because this time, she hopes there is no in between without each other. She hopes that this time, they both stay.

“Paige,” Azzi moans again, her name falling from her mouth like a prayer.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispers, capturing Azzi’s lips with her own as she continues her ministrations with her hand, “fall apart for me baby. I swear I’ll put you back together.”

There’s nothing quite like watching Azzi come undone and Paige drinks in the sight of the other woman quivering as she grabs the blonde’s bicep so tight that it’s bound to leave a victory mark. Paige coaxes her through it, nibbling at Azzi’s jawline as the younger woman slowly climbs down from her peak, going limp in Paige’s arms.

They’re quiet for a while, languorously pressing delicate kisses against each other's skin, soft hands exploring all over each other’s familiar bodies as they tangle their legs together; close not being close enough.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Paige whines when Azzi starts to move out of her grasp.

“I got what I came for,” Azzi teases, “so I’m going back to my own bed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige scowls, pulling the younger woman back into her chest.

Azzi laughs, kissing away Paige’s pout as she wriggles out of her grip and slips out of the bed, “relax. I’m just getting something to clean us up with.”

“Well hurry up. I’m already cold,” Paige mewls before letting out a wolf-whistle as her eyes drift over Azzi’s naked retreating form, appreciating the tautness of the brunette’s back muscles down to her perfectly curved ass.

“You’re 31 years old Paige Bueckers,” Azzi chides as she walks into the ensuite bathroom but Paige can hear the blush in her voice.

“And you’re hot as fuck Azzi Fudd,” Paige calls out with a smirk, keeping the and you’re all mine as a secret in her own thoughts.

“You’re not bad yourself Bueckers,” Azzi returns from the bathroom with a smile and a damp cloth as she hops back onto the bed, gently dabbing it between Paige’s thighs.

It’s a simple act but Paige feels tears prickle at the corner of the eyes. Because it signifies so much more than just this moment. For most of her life, Paige had grown accustomed to the idea that no one would take care of her unless she took care of them first. She didn't know it was possible that someone could reach out first, that they could hold her first without any expectation of anything else in return. Until Azzi.

“Baby?” Azzi’s voice is wrapped in concern as she takes notice of Paige’s tears, immediately rising up to brush them away, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just-” Paige loops her arms around Azzi’s neck, shuddering slightly at how earnest the younger woman’s face is, “I really fucking missed you.”

Azzi’s eyes soften as she caresses Paige’s cheek before pressing her lips against her forehead, “I really fucking missed you too.”

***

Paige’s eyes flutter awake to sunlight peeking through the blue curtains of Azzi’s guest bedroom. She groans, shifting to bury her face further into the brunette’s stomach, pinching it when Azzi laughs above her. Lifting her head slightly, Paige can’t help but smile at the woman above her. Azzi’s got her glasses on, a book in her hands as she peers down at Paige with nothing but pure fondness. Something aches in Paige’s chest as countless visions of mornings just like this fill her head. She’d resigned herself to believing that she’d never get this back again, that she’d have to rely on memories of the past to fill the empty void that rattled hollowly against her chest every time she’d woken up without Azzi by her side.

“Morning sleepy head,” Azzi says softly, putting her book down to brush her fingers through Paige’s hair, “assuming you slept well considering you didn’t even notice when I left to grab my glasses and a book from my room.”

Paige frowns, “you left me?”

“I was bored,” Azzi defends herself, “you were fast asleep and I had nothing to occupy myself with.”

“I can believe you left me,” Paige petulantly accuses again.

“I didn’t leave-”

“You left me!”

“Okay fine,” Azzi concedes with an eyeroll, “but I came back.”

“Yeah you did,” a soft smile takes over Paige’s features as she leans up to brush her lips against Azzi’s, “you came back.”

“I did,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, cupping the older woman’s face with her hands.

Paige is about to deepen the kiss, her hands beginning to slip lower, when the sound of a doorbell ruins any chances of putting in motion any of the uncordial ideas that had taken birth in her mind. She groans as Azzi immediately pulls away.

“Shit, I didn’t realize they’d be here so early.” the younger woman curses, hurriedly tossing Paige’s discarded clothes at her, “here, put your clothes on. I’ll go down first while you change.”

“I- I can come down?” Paige asks slowly.

Azzi crinkles her eyes in confusion, “what do you mean? What else would you do?”

“I just. I dunno-” Paige shrugs, “I just assumed you uh- you wouldn’t want Stephie to know I stayed the night. I figured I’d sneak out of the window or something.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, walking over to grip the older girl’s hands, “you’re not- you’re not my dirty little secret or anything. I’m not- I’m not quite ready to tell Stephie about us- hell I’m not even really sure what we are yet but I know- I know that I don’t want to hide you from her. Besides,” she nudges Paige humorously, “we’re on the 2nd floor babe. I don’t need you trying to climb out the window and breaking your knee before the season even starts.”

Paige watches quietly as Azzi walks out the door. She doesn’t think the younger woman quite understands how much she had needed to hear those words, how much she had needed to not feel like a secret again. It fills Paige with a sense of hope, hope that maybe things would be different this time. Maybe things would be better this time.

***

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals from Azzi’s arms as she spots Paige descending down the stairs, “you’re already here!”

Paige smiles at the little girl, tapping her nose over Azzi’s shoulder, “I promised you I’d be here bright and early didn’t I?”

“Very bright and early,” Katie cocks an eyebrow as she smirks at Paige and Azzi, “how did you get here so early Paige?”

“Don’t be silly Nanna. She drove of course,” Stephie says matter-of-factly before scrunching up her nose, “but Miss Buecks. How come your car isn’t outside then?”

“That’s a great question Stephie,” Katie says and Paige thinks the woman’s a little bit too peppy for a grandmother, “why isn’t your car outside Paige?”

“Because-” Azzi gives her mother an exasperated look before fixing her eyes on her daughter, “because Paige slept over last night.”

“Miss Buecks slept over last night?” Stephie repeats.

“I did,” Paige confirms, glaring at Katie as she snickers in the corner.

“Mama can you please put me down,” Stephie says finally.

The little girl looks upset and Paige feels her heart constrict with fear. In general, she doesn’t really do well with people being mad at her. But she definitely doesn't think she can take Stephie of all people being mad at her. The little girl has chiseled herself into Paige’s heart and if she ever left, Paige thinks she’d leave a hole so big, her entire heart would cease working.

Azzi shares a nervous look with Paige as she sets her daughter down before crouching down to Stephie’s level, “what’s wrong Stephie-bean?”

Stephie’s bottom lip trembles as she looks between her mother and Paige, “you let Miss Buecks sleepover.”

“I-” Azzi looks helplessly between her own mother and Paige, both of whom look just as tense, “I did but sweetheart why is that upsetting you? You like Miss Buecks.”

“I love Miss Buecks,” Stephie wails and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, the little girl's words wrapping themselves around her like a warm blanket.

Azzi blanches for a second, “I don’t understand then what’s the problem-”

“YOU GUYS HAD A SLEEPOVER WITHOUT ME,” Stephie yells, stomping her tiny feet.

Oh.

“Stephie-” Azzi says softly, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me Mama,” Stephie sniffs as she turns to Paige with a betrayed expression, “and you Miss Buecks. How could you guys have a sleepover without me?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Paige falls to her knees beside Azzi, trying not to smile when Stephie dramatically turns her face away from them, “we didn’t mean to. It was just really late when we got back from the party-”

“The party,” Stephie cries out, “first you went to a party without me and then you had a sleepover without me. I can’t bel-ieve you guys would do that to me. Don’t you guys love me at all?”

“We’re really sorry Stephie,” Paige says as seriously as she can, reaching out to fold Stephie’s tiny hands into her much larger one.

“Very, very, sorry,” Azzi echoes.

“I don’t know,” Katie supplies unhelpfully from where she’s watching the whole situation with pure amusement, “they don’t seem that sorry Stephie.”

“Mom!” “Katie!”

Katie raises her hands in mock surrender as both Paige and Azzi glare at her, “just looking out for my granddaughter’s best interest.”

“Stephie-bean,” Paige says again, maneuvering the little girl’s body to face her, “your Mama and I are very, very, sorry for having a sleepover without you. Please forgive us.”

Stephie looks at the adults kneeling in front of her with a contemplative expression, “you promise you’ll never do it again?”

“Never,” Azzi promises as Paige nods along.

“And when we go to the park today I can get three scoops of ice cream?” the little girl asks, the hint of a smile starting to breakthrough her lips.

“I don’t know about that one sweetheart. That’s a lot of ice-”

“Of course you can!”

“Paige!” Azzi hisses.

“And you’ll push me on the swing at the park for twenty minutes?”

“I’ll even push you for thirty minutes if you want,” Paige says and Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Just had to one-up it didn’t you Bueckers,” she mutters under her breath.

“And even though Miss Buecks said she’d get me fries at the park, I can get In-N-Out for dinner too?”

“You’re pushing it Stephie-bean-”

“In-N-Out for dinner sounds perfect,” Paige winks at Stephie as a full smile finally overtakes the little girl’s face.

“You’re hopeless,” Azzi chides the blonde, throwing her hands up exasperatedly but there’s no denying the grin on her face as she looks back at Stephie, “is that all your highness? Are we finally forgiven or did you want to ask us for more unhealthy things?”

“Just one more thing,” Stephie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, “Miss Buecks has to sleepover tonight too.”

Paige and Azzi share a toothy smile with each other before turning to the little girl.

“I think that could be arranged.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Stephie goes tumbling into her and Azzi, tiny arms somehow wrapping around both of their necks as she pulls them into a group hug. The two adults laugh, cocooning the little girl in between them as she rambles on about how excited she is. And Paige thinks that when all is said and done, when she looks back on her life, she’ll remember this moment as the one where everything started to finally come together. Right now, with Stephie's arms wrapped around her neck and Azzi’s hands curling around the little girl’s back to intertwine their fingers together, this moment here feels perfect. This moment feels like it belongs to Paige.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 10 months ago

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Faking It | Jeon Jungkook | Chapter Two

Summary: Seeing him again happened sooner than you thought it would but absolutely no one is complaining. Pairing: f!reader (30) x Single Dad Jungkook (33) (Arranged Marriage Slow Burn?) Word Count: 9.8k Warnings: Talking about Jungkook's wife who passed away in childbirth (Doesn't talk about her death but yeah) a/n: Took me three months but we're finally here 😭 And if any of you saw me post this and delete it...no you didn't. I posted it on my reblogs account on accident so sorry if that teased you a bit 😅 Anyways I hope this was worth the wait 😭 p.s. I only read through this once when I completed it so have mercy on me if there are typos

I wake up naturally this morning and it's honestly one of the best feelings in my opinion. Not having to worry about being woken up out of a sound sleep shows me that it's going to be a good day.

As I yawn and rub the sleep out of my eyes I hear my phone vibrate on my nightstand, telling me I have a new message. I roll over and reach for it lazily to check and when I read the sender's name I immediately shoot up, causing Salem to dart off the bed. "Sorry Salem" I call after him but then when I go back to read the message my heart is already beating out of my chest.

'Good morning y/n I hope you slept well. How are you?' a simple yet inviting message from the man I just met last night. Who knew waking up to good morning texts would still feel this good at the ripe age of thirty?

'Good morning Jungkook! I slept like a baby, best sleep I've gotten in a while actually. I just woke up so, so far so good. How are you? How's Juni? Did you guys sleep alright?' I send and at a second glance I can see how completely whipped I am for this man already. Why am I rambling on and on about sleep? I could've just said 'I slept well, I hope you did as well' or something like that.

'That's good, I'm glad to hear! Juni and I slept alright. She actually only woke up an hour ago which is unheard of since she's usually knocking on my door at six am. She's been talking about you since she woke up' he sends back and my heart flutters, loving that I've made that big of an impression on her already.

I check the time and see that it's already nine am which is a record time for me to sleep as well since I'm usually up by seven most days. Then again it's not everyday that you get to spend the night with a man like him...

Wait! That's not what I meant!

'She can't stop talking about going shopping for butterflies so I wanted to see if we could set up a time soon. Maybe this weekend if you're free?' he suggests and I have to restrain myself from kicking my feet, just thinking about this man asking to see me again, disguised by his daughter wanting to get butterfly decorations for her room.

'This weekend sounds perfect! I'm free tomorrow as well so either day is fine' I offer up and face palm, scolding myself for being too eager. 'Tomorrow sounds great! Should we meet around eleven? Juni and I would love to take you out to lunch if you'd like. You know, to thank you for the help' he sends and I can't help but think that maybe he's a little nervous too.

'Eleven it is! Should I meet you guys there? There's a shop that I'm sure Juni will love and it'll definitely have what we're looking for!' I send and I can see the bubbles popping up to show that he's typing but they go up and down a couple more times. He'll type for a little and then stop and type again and I can only hope that I didn't say something wrong in suggesting where to go.

When a few minutes go by I decide it's best to get out of bed and get a cup of coffee. That'll wake up my brain a little more and help me hopefully not make as much of a fool of myself while texting him.

I find Salem perched on top of his cat tree, still a little jumpy from me having scared him but I think it's made him playful more than anything as I watch his tail flick back and forth while he watches me walk up to him.

"I'm sorry for scaring you" I apologize again, scratching his between his ears but when I feel my phone vibrating over and over in my hand I jump again making him climb down off his cat tree and scurry under the couch. I sigh and scold myself as a result before taking a look at my phone, seeing an incoming call from Jungkook.

I almost drop it after reading his name but catch and answer before I end up dropping it.

"Hello?" I ask, slightly out of breath from the scare but try to hide it as best as I can. "Hi pretty lady!" I hear Juni call out in the distance, the phone no doubt on speaker phone. "Good morning Juni! How are you little one?" I ask, feeling more at ease talking to her first and my question awards me with a little giggle before she continues.

"I'm good! Daddy says we're going to a special store to pick out the butterflies for my room! Is that right?" she asks, clear excitement laced all throughout her tone. "Yes that's right Juni we are! Does that sound alright to you?" I ask and I can clearly hear how she's jumping from excitement from how punctuated her voice sounds now as she chants "Yes" over and over again.

"I wish we could go right now!" she says, her excitement too difficult to contain at the moment which makes me smile knowing that she wants to go right away.

"Patience Juni, tomorrow isn't too far away" I hear Jungkook's voice coming through now and it makes my breath hitch, forgetting the fact that he had been there all along. He wasn't kidding when he said that Juni grabs everyone's attention right away. Given the chance I'm sure she would've talked to me for hours if her dad hadn't reminded her.

"That's right Juni, only one more sleep until tomorrow" I say and I can hear a little gasp from the other side. "Does that mean I can go to sleep right now and then we can go?" she asks, not understanding the concept entirely.

"Not unless you want to sleep for twenty four hours silly" he says and I hear a fit of giggles that could only mean that he might've tickled her but after a few seconds it's calmed down.

"How long is twenty four hours?" she asks, a constant roulette of questions gearing up if he doesn't answer this question correctly.

"You know how you woke up yesterday, went to school, came home, played with your toys, got ready, went to meet Ms. y/n, came back home, went to bed and woke up this morning?" he lists off and I can tell she's probably nodded her head all throughout his explanation.

"Yes?" she responds in a questioning tone, waiting for him to get to the point. "Well that's how long twenty four hours is" he responds and I hear jumping again once he's finished before an excited Juni calls out. "Does that mean we get to go see Ms. y/n again when I get home from school?" she asks and my heart melts at her excitement.

"Juni, we're seeing her tomorrow remember. I'm sure Ms. y/n is very busy tonight" he says and I hear a sad "Oh" from her and I contemplate my next words carefully before going for it. "Juni, would it be okay if I talked to your Daddy for a second?" I ask and I can hear her let out a disheartened 'Okay' before Jungkook takes the phone off speaker.

"Hey y/n, sorry she's a little hyper this morning" he says and I smile at his efforts to apologize for Juni's adorable disposition. "No that's okay, I love talking to her! She's a cutie" I say and he hums, "Try living with her" he counters and I smile, knowing that her excitable attitude might get a little tiring sometimes.

"I wanted to ask you if you would like to do something today after Juni gets home from school? Maybe meet you at the park? I forgot to give you Juni's dress last night after I washed it. I have to go back to my parent's house to pick it up anyway and theres a park around the corner. It's your call though. I don't want to go against what you told her" I say, rambling off nervously again but this time over the phone instead of texting and I regret ever offering it in the first place.

Why am I so freaking awkward?

"You sure you don't mind? I could always just get it from you tomorrow? I don't want to inconvenience you or anything" he says, giving me a chance to back out but not saying no to me, giving me a vote of confidence. "I wouldn't have offered if I minded" I say with a smile in my tone and he takes another second to think before giving me his response.

"She gets off at three, does that work for you or should we meet up later?" he asks and my heart skips a beat, knowing that I'll get to see him again so soon. "That sounds great, you can meet me at my parent's house if you'd like? The park isn't too far away so we can leave our cars and walk there" I offer and he takes a couple of seconds to think again before saying anything else.

"Juni, do you wanna go see Ms. y/n after school?" he asks and I can hear her little feet running around this time and repeating her response of ceaseless Yes's again. "Well I guess we'll see you later then. I can bring some food for us to take to the park if you'd like?" he offers and I shake my head before remembering that thankfully he can't see me in my sleepy state.

"No that's okay I got it covered. You already said you guys are taking me to lunch tomorrow so the least I could do is bring us food to share at the park today. Plus, I'm the one who suggested it in the first place" I explain and he chuckles before agreeing.

"Alright, thank you y/n. Should we show up around four then?" he asks, giving them time to make their way over after picking her up from school. "Four sounds perfect, I'll see you then!" I say and he calls Juni over to say goodbye. "Bye Pretty Lady! See you after school!" she giggles.

I swear I'm never going to tire of her excitable disposition.

"Goodbye Juni! Have a good day and listen to your teachers okay?" and I can hear a faint 'I will' in the background, no doubt from her running off to do something. "Thanks again y/n, I know she's going to be so excited to see you today...we both are" he adds at the end and my heart skips at his confession. "Me too" I say quietly and we finish up our goodbye's before quickly hanging up.

I slowly walk over to the couch as to not scare Salem this time, grab the pillow next to me, put it over my face and scream into it. Although I tried to muffle it I still end up scaring him making him run off to my room, no doubt planning to be wary of me for the rest of the day but that's okay.

I get to see them again, I get to see him again.

I really hope I'm not wrong about thinking that there might actually be something between us already, something about this just feels right. I don't want to rush into this too quickly though since we don't really know much about each other. I want to take things slow and hopefully he does too.

Well...I hope he'll want to take things further but you never know, a man like him is sure to have a lot of options, right? I just don't want to set myself up for heartbreak. Gotta keep it together and not get too vulnerable with him, even if it feels like I should.

I've already let him in a little, and he's definetly let me in a lot with letting me spend so much time with his daughter but I don't know, I guess only time will tell what's going to happen between us.

If there's going to be an 'us'.

~~~~~

The day drags on as I unconsciously count down the hours until I get to see them again but it seems as though time is standing still.

I've spent most of my day editing the pictures I took for a family friend's wedding since that's usually how I get my clients these days. I know someone who knows someone who needs a photographer and my rates are pretty fairly priced so they tend to hire me.

Going through picture after picture and seeing how happy they look together makes me wonder what it would be like to be truly happy with someone like this. Be so openly and obviously in love that no one can say otherwise.

As time ticks by though my mind wanders off until I realize I only have about an hour to get ready before I have to meet them.

"Shit!" I say aloud and get up to hopefully make myself look presentable enough, luckily I took a shower this morning so we're all set on that front. I still need to figure out something for us to eat while at the park though and if I had paid attention to the time it would've been a brilliant idea.

The only option I have left is to phone a friend.

"Y/n? Is something wrong?" my mom asks, the call on speakerphone while I try to fix my hair. "Well depends on if you can help me or not" I say and I hear her sigh. "Please tell me you didn't end up in jail" she says and I scoff at her obviously sarcastic remarks.

"Very funny mom, but for your information no I did not end up in jail. This is seriously something I need help with though. Are you busy right now?" I ask, hoping and praying her answer is no. "No I'm pretty much free for the rest of the day, why?" she responds and I let out a huge sigh before responding.

"Good! Can you do me a favor and throw together a picnic lunch for three? Well...two and a half" I ask, not wanting to give up who it's for but by her gasp I can tell she already knows. "Are you and Jungkook seeing each other again already?" she asks, and I can tell her eyes are as wide as saucers with her hand over her mouth, her reactions being the same since I was a child.

"Yes" I say, giving a one worded response leaving me turning down the volume on my phone when I hear her squealing. "This is incredible! See I knew you two would hit it off! I can hear the church bells ringing already" she says, jumping to conclusions as she always does.

"Mom can you please get the food ready for me?" I plead, going back to the topic at hand while putting some makeup on, nothing too crazy but not wanting to over or under compensate. "Yes yes of course. Leave it to me!" and before I can say another word she's hanging up the phone. "Well that was easy" I say to myself before going to my closet to pick out what to wear.

As I'm flipping through my options I see Salem come out of the darkness, scaring me half to death leaving me scoffing seconds later, realizing he's given me a taste of my own medicine "Okay I guess I deserved that one huh?" I say to him and he meows in response.

"Okay Salem this one, or this one" I say, placing my options in front of him and he sniffs both before swatting at the one he's chosen. "You don't think a sun dress is too much?" I ask and he meows almost as if he was telling me to trust him and so I laugh and give in.

"I hope Juni likes it" I mumble to myself, quickly throwing it on and rushing to finish getting ready. A few minutes later I'm giving Salem a couple tummy rubs like I always do and rushing out the door, praying that I'll get there on time.

The drive to my parent's house seems like it's taking ten times longer than usual and I'm constantly glancing at the clock, making sure that I won't be late but thankfully I get there with plenty of time to spare.

"Hurry up they'll be here any minute!" my mom says, practically having babysat the door to make sure I arrive first. "Nice to see you too" I mumble, never getting a proper hello from her anymore. "The basket is on the table and I put a blanket in there as well" she says rushing me over to where she's put it and it's at that moment she finally notices my appearance.

"You really like him don't you?" she ask, smugness laced in her tone as her efforts of matchmaking are slowly succeeding. "No! Yes...I don't know" I deny but I backtrack immediately since I really do like him. "I haven't been interested in anyone in years and so I don't want to try too hard but I don't know" I somewhat admit to myself, as well my mom that I'm really starting to warm up to the idea of being with someone again.

"It's okay love, he hasn't been with anyone in a really long time either" she says and I furrow my brow, "How do you know that?".

"Well Mrs. Jeon and I were talking about it last night and it seems like ever since his wife died he's been really closed off to love or the idea of dating again. He's tried a few times but they never went beyond a second or third date" she relays and I nod my head, distracting myself with looking through all of the things she had placed in the basket.

I try not to let any expression spread across my face since I don't know how to feel. I don't want to say I'm happy that things didn't work out between him and another woman but it's also sad to think about how Jungkook might've felt when his wife passed in such a traumatic way.

"Thank you for telling me but I think I should start learning more about him when he feels comfortable talking to me about it. It's only fair right? I'm sure he hasn't asked too much about me and my past so I guess shouldn't either" I say and walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"But he has" she says when my mouth is full making me spit it into the sink that was thankfully right in front of me. "He what?" I cough, trying to compose myself as I learn this tidbit of information. "He has asked about you. In fact I was on the phone with her right before you got here" I grab a paper towel to dab off whatever water I have left on me but before I'm able to respond we hear the doorbell ringing.

"I'll get it" she say knowingly, giving me another second to calm down before I have to face him. I take a few deep breaths, fix my hair and check my reflection as best as I can in the smudged steel finish on the fridge while listening to my mother greet them at the door.

While Jungkook and my mother exchange a few words I peek around the corner and notice Juni slightly tugging on my mom's pant leg.

"Excuse me but where's the pretty lady?" she asks and I have to hold back the coos I want to let out so badly, my heart already a puddle at the sight of her pleading eyes wanting to see me.

"Why don't you go look for her?" she says and when Jungkook looks up his eyes meet mine immediately for just a second but long enough to know my cover is blown. I duck back into the kitchen to hide, convincing myself that he didn't see me when he clearly did.

"Go on" he says softly when Juni no doubt looks up at him for approval and my mother follows behind her as Juni walks in the completely opposite direction from where I am, my mom trailing behind her, giving no hints and letting her explore on her own.

I assume that Jungkook follows them but when I hear what sounds like his footsteps get closer and not further away I tiptoe my way into the pantry, completely mortified that I know now for a fact that he caught me staring at them.

I close the door almost all the way and ten seconds later I watch as his form passes by the little crack in the doorway. I hold my breath as if that might help but there's only one way in and one way out of this kitchen and both him and I know that.

Why did I even hide? What was I thinking? Way to start things off on the right foot.

While I'm busy scolding myself I forget to pay attention and stumble back when he opens the door.

"Got ya" he chuckles and I clear my throat, "Yeah I uh, I guess you did" I say, trying to lean back against one of the shelves, stumbling over a box instead but quickly recovering.

"Why are you hiding?" he chuckles, leaning up against the door frame and crossing his arms making me look down and notice how one of them is completely covered in tattoos.

I had never specifically been attracted to tattoos before but on him...

I lose track of what he had said and only realize I had left a lull in the conversation when he clears his throat.

"Oh I-" I start off but when I hear my mother and Juni's voices in the other room I grab his shirt and pull him in, making him stumble inside, closing the door right away.

It's only when he hits the switch to turn the light on that I realize what I had done.

"I-" I try to apologize but when I look up at him I notice that there's something in the way he's looking at me that I have never seen before, making my words die in my throat.

We stand there for what feels like hours but had only been mere moments just observing each other, watching those small changes of expressions and I start to feel dizzy under his gaze.

The tension between us clear and building but it's only when he opens his mouth to say something that the door is thrown open and we're met with a squeal from Juni.

She runs into the closet and grabs onto Jungkook's leg making him stumble forward and as a result pins me against the shelf, his hands resting on either side of me.

It's like the universe is playing some sort of sick and twisted joke on us, constantly putting us in situations like these and yet we had only just become reacquainted with each other last night.

"I found you!" Juni squeals again, giggles as her cries of victory and she soon pulls on Jungkook's leg to try and separate us.

"Daddy I wanna play with the pretty lady" Juni pouts and in her efforts of trying to pull him off of me he actually loses his footing and stumbles, our bodies fully flush against each other now, his face just inches away from mine.

I blink up at him and he does the same to me, both of us frozen and not really knowing what to do. It's only when my mother chimes in and asks Juni to come with her to get a snack that that little bubble that had formed around us had been popped.

"I...sorry... I uh, tripped...you know...with Juni and everything" he says, fumbling his words like a school boy, taking a few steps back to be at a respectful distance again.

"Yeah no it's fine. I um, I shouldn't have pulled you in here in the first place" I admit and he smirks, remembering the point that lead us up to the little predicament we're in.

"Why did you pull me in here?" he smiles, glancing over at where my mom has Juni plopped down on the kitchen counter with a popsicle in her hand. "I take hide and seek very seriously" I explain, me being the one crossing my arms now and he chuckles at my lame excuse for my actions but accepts it anyways.

"Right" he says and offers me a hand to lead me out which I reluctantly accept.

"Mom she'll spoil her dinner" I say, scolding her with Juni just lost in the flavor and sheer size of it. To be fair it looks adorable in her little hands.

"It's alright, a little sugar won't hurt her. Plus we're still going to the park right?" he asks and I look at him and nod. "Right" I agree and lift Juni off the counter to set her on her feet.

"Hi Miss y/n" she says with a bright smile with her lips and tongue stained a bright shade of red from the cherry flavor.

"Hi Juni" I say and fix her little sun dress that she's wearing, it's almost as if we had planned to match and when she notices me straightening out her dress she looks at mine and also notices the similarity right away.

"Look Daddy! Miss y/n and I are matching!" she says with the toothiest grin I've ever seen, her front two teeth standing out just a little bit more making it another cute little trait she shares with her father.

Although who knows if she'll keep that once she starts losing her teeth I think to myself and quickly fix her hair as well since it's gotten a bit ruffled in the excitement of it all.

"That's right baby, you both look so beautiful" he says making my heart skip a beat.

When I look over at him he's giving me a similar adoring look he gave Juni just moments ago making it even harder for me to not melt into a puddle.

I'm beginning to notice that these two really know how to tug on a person's heartstrings, it's almost as if it were as easy as breathing and that's something that's gonna take a while to get used to.

"Can we go to the park now, please?" Juni asks, her eyes going back and forth between the two of us and when I look over at Jungkook he nods.

"Sure, are you ready?" I ask, turning back to Juni and she jumps up and down and chants 'Yes' over and over again like she had done this morning on the phone.

"Alright let's go" I say and with one hand clutching her popsicle for dear life she uses the other one to grab mine and drags me towards the front door.

"Juni be careful" Jungkook scolds but I turn back towards him and assure him not to worry and I can see how he relaxes at that.

She's a little bouncing ball of sunshine, emphasis on the bouncing since she can hardly sit still most of the time unless she's eating, and even then she's dancing around and smiling happily.

I swear if this girl gets any sweeter I'm gonna start getting a toothache.

I let go of Juni's hand while my mother entertains her so we can make sure we have everything before we head out and when I try to turn around to grab my cardigan Jungkooks already grabbing it and holding it out to help me put it on.

"Oh! I can-" "I know" he cuts me off but doesn't make any moves to give it to me so I turn my back to him and let him do as he pleases, sliding it up my arms and over my shoulders.

He runs his hands down my arms, no doubt as an excuse to smooth it all out but it causes a slight shiver to run through my system and he let's go, surprised at the reaction.

"You sure you're gonna be warm enough?" he asks, a hint of amusement laced in his tone making my cheeks heat up but I nod my head and quickly rush over to the table where the basket is so I don't have to face him but he takes it from me as soon as my fingers brush the handle, making our hands touch.

"I can carry that" I counter and he shakes his head, "No I'll carry it, someone's gotta hold Juni's hand while we walk there" he says, clearly delegating our respective duties and I smile and nod again.

"Deal" and at that we're out the door.

~~~~

"Higher Daddy higher!" Juni squeals while Jungkook pushes her on the swing, his arms no doubt getting a little tired since she's been on it for the past ten minutes now and I can see he's losing momentum with every push.

"Daddy's tired Juni. Can you swing on your own now? You know, just like I taught you" he suggests and she thinks about it for a second before saying a quick 'Okay' and clumsily moving her legs back and forth to keep the momentum going.

I smile as I watch Jungkook stumble over towards where I've been sitting on the blanket and watching them, adoring their father daughter relationship.

"You're so good with her" I praise when he sits down and hand him a cold water bottle which he accepts right away and downs half of it.

"You think so?" he asks, always unsure of himself but I couldn't think of a more perfect father than him.

"I know so. She's lucky to have a loving devoted father like you" I say and he smiles softly, grabbing one of the strawberries that my mother had packed for us.

"You flatter me" he says, a slight blush blooming on his cheeks making me feel almost smitten with him. "It's the truth" I reenforce what I've said and he shakes his head, finishing off the fruit in his mouth.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not enough, you know? Like there's only so much I could give her" he says and I can tell from how his body language has changed that he's really thinking about how he wishes her mother could be here for her too.

"What was her name?" I ask and he looks at me curiously, not knowing that I'm on the same page as him yet.

"Your wife, what was her name?" I say tentatively but when he registers it I quickly backtrack.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me that. I just figured that you might've been...well..." I trail off and we sit there in silence watching Juni swing back and forth, back and forth until he decides to speak up.

"Julie" he says softly, as if it had been years since he had spoken it.

"Her name was Julie" he says and when I look over at him I can see the melancholy expression he's trying to hide.

"That's a beautiful name, did you want Juni's name to sound similar to her's?" I ask, not wanting to make this conversation go dark but knowing that talking about her might cheer him up.

"Well, kinda. We wanted something that combined both of our names. It's silly, I know" he mumbles getting bashful about it.

"It's not silly, it's wonderful to see in a way that both you and Juni are still carrying her with you everyday. It's a beautiful way to pay tribute to her" I reassure him and he smiles at me, mouthing a silent thank you.

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have pried" I apologize again, seeing that it still has him feeling down.

"No it's okay, it's nice to talk about her every once in a while. Thank you, for that" him now reassuring me and I nod, both of us left in silence for a while before Juni runs up to us.

"Daddy what's wrong?" she asks, seeing the clearly deflated Jungkook as she gets closer and it's good to see that instead of brushing it off like it's nothing he doesn't hesitate to tell her how he's feeling.

"I'm just a little sad, Ms. y/n and I were just talking about Mommy" he explains and she gets almost a look of understanding which is surprising for someone of her age.

"Please don't be sad Daddy, remember you said Mommy is always watching over us right?" she says, giving him the talk that he's clearly had with her a time or two.

"Right" he says, brightening up just a bit.

"And she wouldn't want to see us sad when we think about her right?" she continues, an slightly stern tone creeping up which makes both Jungkook and I smile.

"Right" he echos again and she nods her head in agreement.

"You always tell me to look in the mirror and touch my nose, and my ears and my lips and everything else that you say reminds you of her and you tell me that she'll always be right here with me. So that means when I'm here with you she's here too right?" she asks again and he chuckles.

"When did you get so smart?" he says, grabbing her and starts tickling her, making her squirm all over the place and when he finally has mercy on her and she catches her breath she answers.

"Well I am turning five soon" she says matter-o-factly and I can't help but chuckle at that. "Oh right, how could I forget" he over exaggerates and she giggles, grabbing his shoulder before leaning in to whisper something.

"Daddy can we show the pretty lady a picture of Mommy?" she says almost at full volume leaving him flinching back. It's adorable how she still hasn't figured out this whole whispering thing. "Sure baby" he obliges and pulls out his phone, picking out one and handing it to her so she can show it to me.

She surprises me by plopping down in my lap and putting the phone way too close to my face.

"This is my Mommy, her name is Julie" she says proudly and my heart can't help but ache thinking this is the only way she's known her mother.

"She's beautiful Juni" I say, putting my hand on top of her hand that's holding the phone and pulling it back so I can see the picture properly.

"You really do have your mom's nose" I chuckle when I notice the same curved button nose they share leaving me booping her's and making her smile. She scrolls through a couple more photos giving me little bits of commentary that no doubt Jungkook has told her as she grew up and it's when I hear the soft click of a camera that I look back up at him.

"Sorry, it was too perfect not to" he says, seemly enjoying watching the two of us and I can't help the way my heart skips a beat making me shy all over again.

"Can we take some more pictures?" Juni asks, wrapping her little arms around my neck and squishing my face against her's leaving me laughing at how adorable this all is.

Jungkook obliges and we take picture after picture after picture together until Juni is satisfied and has run off to play again.

"I didn't even know that you brought that" I say, watching as he fiddles around with the camera, flipping through the photos he just took.

"It was on the table right behind the basket" he explains and now that I think about it I do remember seeing the corner of a camera bag sitting next to it.

He smiles as he looks at the pictures and I lean over to catch a glance at them but he pulls it back out of my reach. "Hey!" I chuckle and he shakes his head. "Not until they're edited" he refuses and I scoff.

"You're not actually going to edit them are you?" I say, nervous at the thought of him spending hours looking at those pictures.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks as if I had said something confusing. "Well I mean, aren't you busy with work? I doubt you would want to take extra time out of your day to play around with them" I explain and he smiles.

"Let me take a few more and then I'll let you see them" he says, angling his body so he's facing me. "Did you want me to call Juni back?" I ask but when I try he stops me with another click and I look back at him confused.

"I meant of just you" he says simply but I can tell he feels a bit bashful from the way he's started to hide behind the camera.

"I'm not used to being the one in front of the camera" I say, trying to figure out exactly how to pose but he chuckles and puts the camera down a little to take a good look at me.

"I don't see why not, you're beautiful" he says casually as if those words hadn't sent my heart into overdrive. "I-" I start but the words just don't come out, especially when he places the camera down and leans in closer.

He takes my hand and places it on the blanket so I can lean on it, places the other in my lap, angles my shoulders slightly away from him and takes my chin and softly tilts my head up, making the sunlight peer down on my face through the leaves of the tree we're under.

"Just relax" he says, acting as if I could possibly relax after he had his hands all over me, posing me just how he wanted.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to clear my head and once I start to get that sense of serenity I hear a few soft clicks from his camera, taking picture after picture, him adjusting my pose by hand every time.

"Daddy!" is the next thing we hear after who knows how long with the sight of Juni running over to us all covered in mud.

"Is this your daughter?" a woman who is clearly out of breath says while trailing after Juni.

"Juni what happened?" I chuckle, seeing that she's as happy as can be with a few smudges of dirt on her face and her dress all muddy.

"Her and my son were playing over there and I guess he convinced her to jump in the mud and well..." she says, motioning towards Juni where I'm trying to clean her off as best as I can.

"I hope she didn't cause you any trouble" Jungkook says, now feeling a bit guilty about the situation since he had taken his eye off her for a second.

"No, not at all. If anything I should be apologizing for my son. I swear we look away for one second and he's as dirty as can be" she chuckles, finally close to catching her breath.

"Can you tell the nice lady thank you for bringing you back?" Jungkook tells Juni and she does as she's told and I can see that she has just about as much of an affect on this mom as she does with me.

If Jungkook's not careful she can use her cuteness for mass destruction if left unchecked.

We hear a boy calling out for his mom that looks just like the woman in front of us now with no doubt her husband trailing after him.

"Mom, Dad says it's time to go home" he says, his state twice as bad as Juni's. What is it with kids these days and mud? I chuckle to myself and when the boy notices Jungkook and I with Juni he gets a little shy.

"Oh, hello" he says before he goes and hides behind his mother's leg, "Oh so now you wanna be shy?" his dad teases and snatches him out from his hiding space and whispers no doubt an encouragement for him to apologize.

"I'm sorry for getting her all dirty. She was just really nice and I wanted to have fun with her" he mumbles and I can see hints of pink peeking through the streaks of dirt on his cheeks just like Juni.

What did I say? Weapon of mass destruction.

"It's okay sweetie, I'm just glad you had fun" I say, brushing off his apology and when he looks up at me now I can see that his blush deepens and opts to hide behind his Dad's leg this time.

"Alright well say goodbye" his mom says and he mumbles a quiet goodbye and gives Juni a shy wave compared to hers being one to match her outgoing and bubbly self.

"Can we play again tomorrow?" Juni asks him and he looks up at his parents for approval. "We usually come here around this time everyday after school so you just have to ask your Mommy and Daddy if you can come again" she says and when I try to deny her claims Jungkook jumps in before I can get a word out.

"We'll be here" he says and Juni smiles so wide.

"See you tomorrow!" she calls out to them and the trio waves goodbye one last time before heading to their car.

"Mommy and Daddy?" I turn to Jungkook while Juni is busy doing a little happy dance before taking a drink of her juice box.

"Well I um, I guess they couldn't help but think we're her parents so it felt best to not correct them" he says while rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink just like the little boy's were when he was looking at Juni.

"Right, and when they say something tomorrow?" I tease and he clears his throat, no doubt not thinking this whole thing through.

"Well I guess there's no harm in faking it?" he says and now I'm the one that's nervous.

"Faking it? You mean you want me to pretend to be Juni's mom? Why?" I ask, flustered by the thought of it.

"I'm sorry I guess I didn't think about how you might feel about it. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable" he apologizes but I rush to explain myself.

"I'm not uncomfortable I'm just shocked that you would want to go along with something like that to keep up appearances for people that we hardly know" I say, trying to figure out where his head is at.

"Sorry that was a stupid suggestion we don't have to do it if you don't want to" he says and I shake my head.

"I mean I want to, but do you? I mean what about Juni? What's she gonna think?" I ask and watch as she chases a butterfly that has caught her eye. "We can just tell her we're playing pretend" he says and I raise a brow at him.

"That's the best you got?" I ask and he chuckles nervously. It's funny to see that a tall, strong, handsome man like him is getting so shy about this but I'll play along.

I just don't want to confuse Juni.

"Juni can you come here for a second?" Jungkook calls and she turns and runs over to us right away, looking between the two of us since we're both looking at her with no doubt some very strange expressions.

"You like to play pretend right?" he asks and she brightens up at the thought, "It's my favorite thing to do!" she says, twirling around in her very adorable muddy dress.

"How would you feel if we started playing pretend with Ms. y/n?" he asks and she gets even more excited and does her little chanting of 'Yes' over and over again, a very adorable habit of hers.

"So this is what we're gonna do, whenever we're out and about with Ms. y/n we're going to pretend like we're a family. You'll be the Baby, I'll be the Daddy and Ms. y/n will be the Mommy. Does that sound alright to you?" he asks and she giggles and looks between the two of us, clearly loving the idea.

"Yes let's do it!" she says, fully confident in her playing pretend skillset.

"Alright Juni but there's one little rule" he says and she comes in close, knowing that this part is probably a secret.

"You can't call her Mommy in front of her parents or grandma and grandpa, got it?" he says and I fully agree with him. We don't need to get their hopes up when we still don't know exactly what we are.

"Got it! Mommy?" she asks, getting my attention and trying on the name for size and I answer to it right away, somehow feeling almost natural already.

"Yes Juni?" I ask, and she looks over at the playground for a second before looking back over at me. "Can I go play for just a little while longer?" she asks, holding her hands together and giving me the cutest puppy dog eyes I've ever seen.

"Go ahead" I say and she giggles and rushes off to run around just for a little while longer like she said.

"It suits you" Jungkook says and I look over at him curiously, "What does?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

"You being a mom" he says and the words die in my throat. I've always been told I'd be a good mother when the time came but hearing it from him after what we just agreed to do just...

"Thank you" I say, my heart squeezing in a painful but also grateful way and he gives me a smile before he places his hand on my waist for a second to solidify his sincerity before walking a bit closer to the playground to watch Juni.

I decide to start packing up the stuff we had brought and by the time Juni is dragging her feet back over to me and completely out of breath I've got everything ready to go.

"You tired?" I ask and she nods her head, her blinks getting lazy as a clear sign that it's time for bed.

"Why don't I carry her home...I mean back to my mom's house" I correct myself quickly but I can tell he liked the sound of what I had said, my implication being completely different from what he had imagined.

"It's alright, I can carry her, we've got one pretty dress all muddy so I don't think we need another one" he chuckles.

I pause for a second and pull out the picnic blanket we brought and hold it against myself before picking her up.

"Problem solved" I say and he can't help but smile at my solution and quickly takes Juni's shoes off and wipes her feet clean as best as he can before taking the end of the blanket and tucking it all up so she's practically wrapped up like a burrito.

"You sure you can cary her? She can get a bit heavy when she's sleepy like this, especially since we've gotta walk for a little bit" he offers and I assure him I'm fine.

"What kind of mother would I be if I couldn't carry my child home?" I tease and his eyes widen, clearly having forgotten the little game we're playing.

"How dare I doubt your capabilities as a mother" he chuckles and picks up our stuff, motioning for me to lead the way.

A few minutes go by and we're left in a comfortable silence on our way back to my parent's house and when I decide to speak up he does the same.

"I-" "Tha-", "Sorry you go first" "No that's okay you go first" and we toss it back and forth a few more times before he hits me with the age old "Ladies first".

"Thank you for coming tonight and letting me spend some more time with Juni...well and you of course" I say sheepishly and he smiles.

"I would hope you like spending time with me since you are my wife after all" he teases and now we've switched personalities.

"You know, I think you're getting a little too comfortable with this already" I say and he smiles, playing with his lip piercings that I somehow only noticed right now, the silver glistening from the street lights.

There's so many things I haven't noticed about him yet, or even know about him but somehow everything seems so easy.

"I mean can you blame me? You fit right in with Juni and I. Honestly better than I thought you would" he mumbles the last part to himself and I have to try my absolute hardest not to literally fall for him.

I'm holding his daughter so I would one thousand percent say that now is not the time.

"What?" I ask, asking clarification that he doesn't give. "Oh nothing" he smiles and picks up the pace, leaving me trailing behind him and right when I go to say something else Juni flinches leaving me slowing down and soothing her back to sleep.

"Your Daddy is crazy, you know that?" I whisper to her as if she could hear me but the need to say something was too great.

A minute or two later we're walking up to my mom's house and I twist my body to give him access to the small purse I brought with us and let him fish out the keys to open the door.

When my mom hears us come in she goes to give us a no doubt overly exaggerated welcome home but as soon as she sees a very sleepy Juni in my arms she cuts herself off and switches to a hushed tone.

"Looks like you all had fun" she chuckles and caresses Juni's head for a second, checking to see if she's really asleep and she very much is.

"Maybe a little too much fun" Jungkook chuckles, seeing my mother slowly realize how dirty Juni had gotten.

"She's a cheeky one isn't she?" my mom smiles lovingly and I can't help but wish this whole mom thing with Juni was real.

"She is indeed" Jungkook agrees, and hands my mother the picnic basket.

"Thank you so much for letting me steal your daughter today" Jungkook teases and I can tell that she absolutely loves this.

"Honestly you can keep her. I hardly see her anyways" she says, giving Jungkook permission as well as sending a jab my way.

"Mom" I groan and the both of them smile as if they delighted in my embarrassment.

"I just might" he says softly while looking over at me and I can see my mom picking out the wedding venue as we speak, meanwhile I'm wrestling with myself to stay calm.

We agreed to fake this relationship which means that everything he says is fake...right? I need to separate the real from the delusion but he unfortunately isn't making this any easier.

We say our final goodbyes to my mom and she watches until we walk up to Jungkook's car, no doubt still watching behind the curtain of one of our front windows, spying on us as if her life depended on it. I try to ignore it though because how we end tonight is really important to me.

"Can I ask you something?" I say after he finishes putting Juni in the car, him closing his car door and walking me over to my car just a few feet away.

"Anything" he says while ushering me toward it with a hand on my waist, a slight sign of protection since it's gotten a lot darker than we both realized.

"When you said I fit in better than you thought I would...and that you might keep me, was that a part of this whole faking it thing we have going?" I ask, wanting to have an open line of communication with him.

We're not shy teenagers anymore so as adults I feel like this is something really important to establish.

"Do you want it to be?" he asks, standing in front of me while I lean against my car door. It still very much being locked as a very clear sign that I don't want this to end.

"I mean we just met and..." I say, trailing off because I don't really know what I want. All I know is I like him. I really really like him and his daughter has got me wrapped around her cute little finger.

"I know, we can take this slow. If this whole husband/wife thing is too much for you we don't have to do it" he offers and I shake my head.

"No, no I want to. I just don't want the lines to get too blurry" I explain and he nods his head and leans his hand against the car right next to where I'm standing.

"Blurry lines aren't a problem for me when it comes to you, it's your call though" he says and if my heart wasn't already racing it surely would've been now.

I look up at him and hold my breath when he gets closer my eyes not leaving his and when he leans down I close my eyes, giving into whatever he wants to do to me.

"Goodnight" he whispers, his warm breath fanning my neck making me lose my sense of reality for a second, wanting to lose myself in him without abandon.

I can hardly breathe let alone think straight and he chuckles at that, standing up straight and ghosting his fingers along my jaw before stepping aside, a clear sign for me to get into my car and when I fumble with my keys he takes them and unlocks it, opening the door for me.

I sit down inside and look up at him, indulging myself for a few more seconds. When he hands me my keys he makes our hands touch only for a moment before saying a soft 'Drive safe'.

When he closes the door for me I finally let out that breath I had desperately been holding back, watching as he walks back to his car with his little Juni still sound asleep.

I watch him pull out of the driveway and decide that even the way he drives is irresistible, giving me a small wave before he goes and while I'm lost in thought I almost jump out of my skin when I hear my phone ringing and my mom's name pops up.

"Mom I really can't talk right now" I say, putting her on speakerphone and starting the car.

"Do not give me that y/n I am your mother and set you up with this man so tell me what is going on" she says and I sigh, checking all my mirrors and heading out as well just seconds later.

"To be honest mom I don't even know. He's showing me very very clear signs that he's interested in me but I can't really say much of anything else at this point" I admit, the realization that the state of our relationship is anything but normal.

"We just met last night and things are progressing fast, like really fast" I sigh, stopping at a red light, thankfully giving me a second to think.

"Well I'd say this is all a good sign. I mean you're both in your thirties honey so adult relationships can progress a lot faster than when you're younger. He's a man that clearly knows what he wants and he wants you. So go for it" she encourages and I take it all in.

"You're biased because you're my mother and would love to have his parents as your in-laws" I say and she scoffs. "Yes but that's not the point. You would be a fool if you let a man like him walk out of your life" she scolds and I know she's right.

"I'll do my best to keep an open mind. But please don't talk to his mom yet, or at least not tonight. I don't need both of you losing sleep over this" I warn her but I know she'll do as she pleases no matter what.

"You know I can't do that, but I'll do my best" she says and that is the biggest lie she's ever told but I'm not surprised since we dangled this whole thing right in front of her face.

"You called her already didn't you?" I sigh and she chuckles. "As soon as I closed the door" she admits and I sigh, not the slightest bit surprised.

"Alright mom well I gotta go but we'll talk again soon" I say, pulling into my parking spot and turning off the car.

"Okay well keep me updated" she says and I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Between you and Mrs. Jeon I'm sure you can keep each other in the loop" I say, putting my keys in the lock and closing the door behind me when I step into my apartment.

"But I gotta go alright, I'll talk to you later" I say once again and hang up as soon as she says goodbye.

"Hi Salem" I sigh, watching as he jumps down from his cat tree and stretches before walking up to me, rubbing against my leg before walking over to his food bowl, clearly requesting the very late dinner I'm giving him. "I'm sorry boy, I guess I gotta get you one of those timed feeders now from the looks of it" I apologize and give him his food right away.

I put a couple treats into his bowl as well as an apology and make my way back to my room to jump in the shower and think about everything that happened today.

Jungkook basically admitted that he wants to get to know me better because he clearly feels like he can see a future between us and to be honest I pretty much feel the same way. It could be that we've caught a severe case of puppy love but I think we both know that this could potentially go somewhere.

I love spending time with him and Juni, granted this is only the second time we've spent time together but still I can't get over the fact of how natural it all felt.

Then he goes and pulls this whole pretend to be married business and now he's telling me he doesn't mind if the lines are blurred between us.

This is all way too much for one day but I can't deny that I'm not enjoying the journey. This is progressing a whole lot faster than I thought it would but that doesn't necessarily mean that's a bad thing.

I guess we've both got a whole lot of learning to do.

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exocaliii · 6 months ago

Text

❦︎ Is That What You Want? (It's You)

| Se-mi / Player 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: In the worst possible place, you reunite with someone you never thought you would see again. Fortunately for you, the looming threat of death unveils many long lost feelings you both tried (and failed) to let go.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: mention of suicide, death, violence, hurt/comfort, occasional use of Y/N even tho I do try to avoid it, lots of YEARNING, kind of a childhood friends to lovers typa scenario, kissing (but it's only in like one paragraph at the very end sorry freaksters....)

A/N: SEMI FIC HERE TO MAKE UP FOR HER FUMBLE IN THE LAST ONE!!!! this one is also extremely plot heavy as u can see from the word count LOL but I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!! tried to show her softer side in this as well as her playfulness! this is for the people asking for a se-mi fic in my inbox sorry I made the post before I could click "respond to ask" and now im afraid I might actually delete everything so... this is for u whoever u are <3 I didn't read it over this time y'all so praying for no typos... ENJOY

—

When Se-mi first spots you, you’re crouched down in front of a table and surrounded by four other women as you throw the gonggi pieces into the air. For a solid minute, she thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her - that or this person that bears a striking resemblance to her first real friend wasn’t you at all. However, when your team rapidly advances around the bloodied track, she’s allowed a closer look at you; your hair has grown longer and you’re just a bit taller than the last time she saw you, but your eyes are still the same and that’s what confirms it for her.

She doesn’t cheer when you win - her throat feels strangely tight and her heart is heavy in her chest even with your victory - but she does feel an overwhelming sense of relief as she watches you bound past the finish line. Seeing you smile and laugh once again stirs something inside of her, an emotion she hasn’t felt for years.

Before you completely disappear behind the doors of the field, she swears she sees you turn around and look directly at her, vague recognition clear on your face.

—

“Hey, where are you running off to so fast?”

Laughter rings out behind you as you pick up your pace, clutching your bag tight to your chest. Multiple footsteps fall in behind you, and with a short glance over your shoulder at the agitated faces of the girls trailing you, you realize today might not just end with a bit of teasing. It’s New Year’s Eve though and the sun is mostly set, so maybe they won’t knock you out cold so you can make it home on time to welcome the new year with your family.

“C’mon, aren’t you gonna pay us back?” For what, you want to shout, but before you even get the chance to respond, the footsteps behind you suddenly speed up. You’re practically thrown to the ground with a single hard shove on your back, arms flailing as your bag scuttles across the concrete. “My dad said your family owes us some money, you know, and I don’t mind getting it from you.”

Your head is spinning and your nose feels oddly hot, but you hear her words loud and clear and they send a deep feeling of shame through your entire body. A hand tangles itself in your hair as your head is pulled back, causing yet another fit of laughter to ring throughout the alley. “Fuck, her nose is bleeding so much! Did you break it?”

The one holding you by the hair reassures her group that you’d be fine, they could just say you fell because currently, it was your word against five other students. A part of you begins to wonder if anyone would even come help if you screamed right then - the alley was right next to the school, someone was bound to hear you.

As the other four begin to sift through your bag for any valuables, you find your mouth sealed shut, afraid that even a whimper of pain would turn the attention of this pack of wolves back towards you. You didn’t have much in your wallet these days, and what you did have was pocket change for emergencies. They would go home disappointed either way, but whatever kept you from getting beaten the worst would be preferred.

“What the hell, she’s only got like 5000 won in here.” The tallest girl turns to you with both confusion and disdain evident on her face. “Are you really that fucking poor? Where’s the rest of it?”

She stands right back up and so does the other three, all slowly advancing on you as you were held down by the fifth. You don’t even struggle against her loose grip on your hair, slowly coming to accept the fact that you might just have to take a beating for today, because there is no ‘the rest of it.’

Perhaps, if you’re lucky, they’ll get bored fast at your lack of reaction to anything they do and you’ll only go home with a bloody nose and a couple easily hidden bruises.

You can accept that fate, you can accept your place in this world.

“What the hell’s going on here?”

Everyone’s heads, even yours, turn towards the lone girl standing at the entrance of the alleyway. With the setting sun behind her, her face is mostly casted in shadows. You think you recognize her as one of the troublemakers in your math class, constantly getting sent outside to stand in the hallway and ‘think about what she’s done.’ Even after being in the same class for two years, you still haven’t quite learned anything about her beyond her antics. The reason for why she’s butting in though, is also lost on you.

“Mind your business, Se-mi.” So that’s her name. It fits her. “We’re just teaching this one a nice lesson in karma.”

How ironic. Five girls beating on a younger classmate would definitely bring them amazing luck for the New Year.

Se-mi’s eyes trail down towards the ground, towards you, and her eyes take in your bloody nose and the deep-blue bruise already forming on your cheek. For a second, you think she might just leave you here like anyone else would, but after some obvious inner contemplation, she speaks up once again.

“She looks like she understands it just fine now,” she says mockingly, beginning to walk closer towards you all. Her eyes are sharp, leaving no room for argument, and you only wish you could be half as strong to stand up to these girls. “Maybe you guys should just head home.” It sounds less like a suggestion than it does a threat, and your attackers respond in kind.

“What, you got a problem with us?” It’s obviously not a real question, but a chance for Se-mi to back out now before things get serious. She doesn’t.

“Yeah, I do, so what’re we gonna do about it?”

Inwardly, you curse yourself for inadvertently placing this stranger at risk to get beat up right alongside you for a problem that definitely had nothing to do with her.

For a second, the girls are silent, but you can practically feel their anger growing as the one on top of you lets go of your hair. Se-mi stands her ground, expression just as cold as always as they try (and fail) to intimidate her with their glares. You’re frozen in awe of this idiot for both her courage and her poor decision-making skills.

It’s no surprise to you when the tall one lunges forward to try and land the first punch in the inevitable fight, but Se-mi is quick to dodge it and redirect her momentum right into the side of a trash can. All hell breaks loose after that, and for a second, you think your savior might just win the fight with pure skill and experience alone, but reality catches up to you both.

With pure numbers, they bring Se-mi to the ground, and even though you scramble to your feet and try to fight them as well, you’re humbled even faster with your already pre-existing injuries and lack of knowledge on any forms of fighting. The tall one is the angriest, screaming curses at you both as you’re kicked and punched on the ground. Se-mi’s attempt to get back on her feet is thwarted by a solid hit on her face, and your lack of an attempt is rewarded with a fist right to the center of your ribcage, knocking all the air out from your lungs.

As you’re beginning to think they might really want to kill you both, sirens in the distance interrupt the bombardment of pain on your sore body.

“Shit, is that the police? Have we been spotted?” Their voices are now twinged with a hint of anxiety at being caught, and fortunately for the two of you, that’s all it takes to end the assault. “Let’s just leave.”

With a final kick to your back, the girls quickly grab their backpacks and run for it, long forgetting your own bag and the 5000 won that started this beatdown in the first place.

—

As you look around the giant room for a place to eat, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the crowd for a familiar face as well.

A part of you is sure that it was her that you walked right by in the middle of the last game, but you were so focused on facing forward to make sure you wouldn’t trip that you weren’t able to get a clear look at her face. Even after you won, you were given little to no time to do anything on the field before being ushered back to the main room. Now, you’re beginning to think that the looming threat of death is making you cling even harder to long lost dreams, but you hope that isn’t enough to make you hallucinate people you used to know.

Sitting down on one of the unoccupied steps, you open your container and begin digging in, forcing yourself to forget the foolish dream that’s been occupying your mind for hours now. Even during the vote, you found your hand drifting towards the bright red X just in case she really was here and at risk of imminent death (just like everyone else). In the end, the blue patch on your chest is unchanging, and no imaginary companion will change that.

“Y/N?”

Your neck almost snaps clean in half with the way your head shoots up to see the person who just called your name, a name you are 100% sure you didn’t give to anyone here. Yet, when you see who it is, you’re somehow even more surprised than you would’ve been if it was some stranger.

Se-mi casually stands right in front of you after what felt like a lifetime without her. She smiles - no, smirks at the recognition evident on your face and plops herself down right next to you.

“Long time no see, 399,” she says, her voice teetering on the edge of teasing and what might be genuine happiness to see you again. Of course, she has to ruin the moment by reminding you of the situation you had to reunite in, and you glance down at the number on her chest as well.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you again, 380.” You add as much sass to your voice as you can manage in the moment, but it comes out just as soft as you meant it in your heart because it is good to see her again.

For a moment, the two of you can only stare at each other, picking up the differences in each person’s appearance since the last time you met. It’s the kind of peaceful silence that you haven’t been afforded for far too long, and now that it’s given to you, you can’t bring yourself to be the one that breaks it. Luckily for you, it seems like Se-mi can’t either, because all she does is stare at you with an indecipherable look in her eyes. If you had to describe it, you might say that it’s the unspoken equivalence of the softness in your voice from earlier (by now, you understand full well that the most genuine emotion you’ll get out of her might just have to come from carefully reading every one of her expressions).

For a long time, the two of you simply eat in silence, basking in each other’s company. Your legs occasionally brush with how close she sat to you, but it doesn’t feel awkward in the slightest; if anything, it’s comforting, reminding you of your youth together before the real world caught up.

“So, you know what I’m gonna ask you.” As always, it’s her that breaks the silence between you two, and you can’t blame her for being curious. Afterall, this was a horrible place to meet someone you know.

“My father’s business finally completely collapsed, and now we’re getting chased around the country by loan sharks,” you say, laughing a bit at your own situation. It didn’t take long for you to decide that Se-mi deserved to know the truth, but you knew she would be the last person to judge you for such circumstances. “I didn’t have any other options besides this.”

She doesn’t look at you with pity for your answer. It’s one of the traits you appreciated most from her back then.

“What about you? How’d you end up in this shithole?”

Your question earns you a laugh that as always, never fails to make you smile right back at her.

“I mean, I can’t say I’m getting chased around, but I’ve got a bit of debt I need to handle.” She almost decides to cut her story off there, but you’re looking at her with such genuine interest in your eyes that she can’t bring herself to hide the rest from you. How long has it been since someone cared so much about what she had to say? “College was… too expensive. I didn’t have anyone that could help out, so I’ve just been working random jobs here and there.”

Unfortunately, her answer seems completely honest. You wish you could’ve been there by her side, but your own family was dealing with a lot then too.

“Why didn’t you just… continue to try to make it work out there?” You’re praying that your question doesn’t come off as insensitive, but she seems to find it amusing if anything. “Why would you risk losing everything like this?”

That last phrase earns you a scoff this time, and she turns away with a strained expression, clearly struggling to keep her ever cocky smirk on her face.

“I don’t have anything left to lose. This place is my chance to get a headstart or just…” The rest remains unsaid, and even though she’s speaking so casually, your heart drops at the insinuation. “...I haven’t left a mark on the world at all, Y/N. What happens here really won’t matter much to anyone out there.”

For a second, you’re stumped as to how to answer her. There’s some twisted truth to her reasoning, and you’re sure that if most of the people in this room died tomorrow, their deaths would be passed off as mere victims to loan sharks or suicide. That, or their disappearances wouldn’t be noticed at all. But no. It isn’t the same for Se-mi, and you desperately want her to know that.

“It would matter a lot to me.” You try to make it sound casual so she doesn’t tuck tail and run like she usually does, but you know it left an impact on her with the way her eyes drift to the ground and her brows furrow just slightly. “You left a pretty big impact on my life, you know that?”

As you turn back towards your food, Se-mi glances at you from the corner of her eye. There isn’t a hint of deception or even sarcasm in your face, in your voice, in any part of you. It’s a level of honesty she’s only ever experienced from you, and after being apart for so long, she had forgotten how soothing it was to be on the receiving end of such genuine kindness.

For years now, she had found herself searching for you in every face she came across, in every friend and partner she had, in every short moment of peace she was allowed in her rocky life. Now that she’s finally found you though, she’s not sure what to do with herself.

For the rest of night, right up until lights-out, the two of you bask in the silence once again. In your own separate ways, you both sit there and think about each other. You consider what you lost when you were separated from her. She considers the fact that she might’ve just regained something she can now lose if her own life is lost, and the thought of it terrifies her.

When it’s time to sleep, it’s Se-mi that gets up first, albeit with a great deal of hesitance. The two of you part ways, and before you can get too far, you hear a faint whisper from behind you.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

It makes you crack a smile, turning around to see her still looking at you. Her smile is still strained, but now, there’s a hint of happiness there.

“Yeah, you too, and goodnight, Se-mi.”

Even now, the sound of your soft voice calling her name makes her heart skip a beat.

—

“What the fuck was that…”

You finally begin to stir awake at the groans and curses coming from beside, and all your body feels is pain.

God, they really did a number on you didn’t they?

“Fucking cops didn’t even stop for us,” the voice groans again, now paired with a faint shuffling as you watch her attempt to get back on her feet through your incredibly blurry eyes. All you can manage is to roll onto your back, looking up to see the pitch black sky.

Wait, black?!

How long have you been out?!

“Uff!” A loud clatter of boxes graces your ears as you glance over to see her - Se-mi, was it? - right back on the ground. From the looks of it, her legs were also feeling extremely uncooperative. You already feel like shit, but she took a majority of the beating so she probably feels even worse. Guilt courses through you as she groans in pain, rolling onto her back to mimic your position.

For a couple minutes, you both lay there in silence, staring up at the empty night sky. In the far distance, cars zoom past on the main road, likely salarymen rushing to get home to their families in time to celebrate New Years.

By now, you've come to the realization that you'll probably would have to celebrate yours alone on the ground this time, considering the fact that your body was not letting you get back up. For now, at least, maybe you can get to know your savior (or rather, attempted savior).

“...I’m sorry about this,” you whisper, sighing heavily into the cold December air.

“Did you get a few hits in on me too?” She’s clearly mocking you, but you can’t even be mad right now.

“Still… sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” A beat of silence follows. “I never liked those bitches anyways.”

The second part is almost whispered as if it were a secret between the two of you, and you let out a small chuckle, cutting yourself off before it becomes a laugh as pain shoots up your torso at that small movement.

In the tranquility that follows, Se-mi begins to fully question why she was laying there on the cold concrete in extreme discomfort for a stranger - well, not really a stranger, but she doesn’t even know your name. Then she thinks back to the ugly feeling she had in her gut watching you get cornered by those stuck-up rich kids, unwilling to even fight back, and she thinks she might’ve done the right thing despite how meaningless this encounter might become.

She looks over at your bruised face thinking about how similar you looked to a kicked puppy at that instance, and she can’t help but push your buttons even more.

“Aren’t you glad we were able to save your 5000 won?”

The absurdity of her statement distracts you from the pain you feel, and after a scoff and a slight shake of your head, you find yourself genuinely laughing for the first time in a long time. It doesn’t take long for her to follow, and after a couple moments, you both find yourselves giggling like children at the shitty situation.

You enjoy this rare moment of companionship for only a couple seconds before you begin hearing loud shouts in the distance.

They’re counting down, but you’re nowhere near home and neither is she.

“5!”

“Hey, what’s your name?”

“4!”

You turn your head and answer her, and she smiles at you.

“3!”

“I’m Se-mi.”

“2!”

It’s different hearing her name from her own mouth, spoken without any of the hatred that your attackers infused into the word.

“1!”

You both look up just in time to see fireworks lighting up the once dark sky, red, yellow, and green hues reflecting in your eyes as you force yourself to relax and take in the moment.

In this moment, with Se-mi by your side, you don’t feel as lonely as you expected yourself to be. It’s a feeling of comfort you’re rarely given, but you openly bask in it as you think about the confidence and bravery it must’ve taken to stand up against five people like that. In another life, perhaps, you could be someone like her, protecting people like you.

Like a knight in shining armor.

“Happy New Year, Y/N. I’m going to sleep now.” Your head snaps over in her direction as she folds her hands behind her head and closes her eyes, getting way too comfortable on the ground of a shady alleyway.

“What?” No response. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re not sleeping here!”

She bluntly ignores you and her breaths get heavier, but it’s obvious that she’s just pretending to be asleep. The thought of getting up and leaving by yourself crosses your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to part with this girl just yet.

With a resigned sigh, you roll onto your side with a pained groan and close your eyes as well, praying that no mysterious van comes to kidnap you two in this moment.

“Happy New Year, Se-mi.” Silence. “And thank you.”

You’re already facing her so when you peak open your eyes, you see her lips twitch upwards at your choice to stay, and that solidifies the deal.

When morning comes the next day, you don’t even bother going home first before walking alongside her to school. You sit next to her in class for the first time, and you share the lunch you bought with her under the guise of ‘not being able to finish it.’ She’s resistant at first, but eventually, she indulges you.

This routine continues for the next two years. It’s only interrupted when you break the news to her that your father is forcing the family to flee because of his growing debts.

That night, you both walk back to the alley and lay there together under the stars.

You think you might’ve seen her eyes water once or twice, but you say nothing, unwilling to break the sacred silence between the two of you. It’s the last one you share for years, until you inevitably see her again in the worst possible place.

—

As everyone begins filing out to head to the next game, Se-mi feels an uncontrollable urge to break away from her current group to go find you once again. She can already see you in the distance, but even though the two of you make eye contact for a brief moment, you look away upon seeing her already large group.

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she begins to turn away from the rambling of Thanos and Nam-gyu behind her, but a meek voice calls out her name and stops her.

“Where are you going?”

It’s Min-su, and he’s looking at her like a lost animal terrified of losing its protector. A wave of guilt crashes into her at the thought of leaving this poor boy to the sharks, and even though your face is still the only thing on her mind, she wonders if it’s worth it to betray her new group.

If she left now, she might not make it through this next game.

If she dies now, she won’t get a second chance at life (and a second chance to live by your side again, but she pushes that thought to the side for now).

“Nowhere, let’s go.”

That’s all it takes to appease him, and with one last glance over to where she saw you last, she reintegrates herself back into the group and moves forward.

—

Even though the first two rounds pass by without a hitch, you think this game might be the most dangerous one yet. You’ve got your own little group from the Six-Legged Race, but as the announcer called for rooms of four, you watch the youngest girl of your team get shoved out of your group by two others (sisters, if you remembered correctly). It’s heartbreaking to hear her cry out as you all ran away, but you can’t save her and save yourself at the same time.

You’ve made it this far, and you’d be damned if you were sent home an empty handed corpse now.

As the platform begins to spin again, you pat the shoulder of the woman standing next to you - 047. She was closer to the younger one than you were, and her death obviously shook the poor lady up. Her reaction makes you realize how distant you’ve been to everyone since you arrived (with one notable exception, of course), and you find your own heart beating hard against your chest at the thought of being abandoned as well.

“3 players.”

Of course.

For a second, the four of you freeze. The sisters are holding onto each other’s hands with a death grip, and you know now that it’s between you and 047. A part of you thinks about shoving her down so you could run away with the other two, but something behind her catches your eye before you can do anything.

It’s Se-mi.

She’s standing completely alone, hand held out towards nobody, and not a single other person from that group you saw her with earlier by her side.

Like it’s muscle memory, you shove past 047 and run the fastest you’ve ever ran right at her. You hear a faint yell of gratitude from behind you as you wrap your arms around Se-mi and pull her forward towards one of the empty rooms in the distance. The impact seems to wake her out of her stupor, changing your awkward position so that now, you’re running side by side with her hand in yours. Along the way, you grab a stray girl up from the ground by the back of her sweater and pull her along to complete the three.

As you all clamber into the room, Se-mi slams the door shut behind you, barely missing the time-out buzzer. The lock clicks shut, and you hear gunfire outside, but she ignores all of it to turn around to look at you. This is the most emotional she’s looked since you’ve reunited, eyes downturned with sadness and a hint of fear at how close she was to death.

Ignoring the girl repeatedly thanking you to your right, you walk up to Se-mi and pull her into a tight hug, relishing in the warmth of her body.

“I’m glad I made it in time, 380.”

You feel her arms beginning to wrap around you before the lock clicks open, forcing you to pull apart to exit the room. Your hand doesn’t leave hers, and it’s a clear signal that you’ll be sticking by her side for the rest of this game.

Se-mi doesn’t even find herself searching the arena for Min-su and the others as you walk with her back to the platform, completely distracted by the tingling sensation in her hand as you interlace your fingers together. It’s a feeling that’s new to her, being chosen by someone in a manner like this; of course, she’s been desired before, maybe even loved (despite her inability to return the other person’s feelings), but this is different somehow. In this scenario, it’s you, not some random girl she met at a bar. It’s you choosing to risk your life to make sure she continues living, and in the wake of this realization, the feelings that she’s been shoving down for countless years come rushing back to her.

As the next rounds pass by, you remain unchanging by her side. Even as the announcer calls for 2 players, you don’t even hesitate to pull her with you, leaving behind everyone you joined up with in the last couple rounds.

Even after you run over the blood of countless others, you never let go of her hand, and she never lets go of yours.

—

“You really saved my ass back there.”

Here, back in the comfort of this familiar room, Se-mi has regained her usual joking nature, smirking at you as you nod, very clearly proud of yourself.

“Yes, I did. Maybe you should give me your share of the prize money for that,” you say, holding out your hand to her. She laughs and wraps her arm around your shoulder, walking you back over to the steps where you had your first conversation.

“Maybe I will, or maybe I’ll pay for a couple meals together instead.” The innuendo isn’t lost on you, and your face goes red as she gets even cockier. “It’s time I pay for you for all those lunches, but dinner wouldn’t be so bad either.”

Your face is still turned away from her in embarrassment, but she can still see the blush on your cheeks, revelling in her own ability to make you fold. You mumble something under your breath, but she’s too focused on her victory to hear you.

“What was that?”

“I said, you’ve already saved me plenty of times before, more times than you can count, so I should treat you first.”

The warmth in her chest returns full force, and now, it’s her fighting to keep a blush off her face, lest you start embarrassing her about that too. She wonders, what would it be like to take you out on a proper date? She imagines you all dressed up, and in that moment, she decides what she wants to spend her prize money on first when you all leave this place.

She wants to buy you flowers. She wants to take you to a nice, luxurious restaurant and show you off, then under the stars, she’ll ask you to be hers.

“Whatever you say, pretty lady.”

That earns her a smack on the arm and a scoff as your face starts burning once again (to Se-mi’s absolute delight).

The moment is unfortunately interrupted by the main doors sliding open, and you watch as the pink guards file in. At the front table, two giant buttons lay waiting for the remaining contestants. Everyone around you begins to speak in hushed tones, obviously discussing their plans for the next vote.

“Are you going to change your vote?” As you spin around to face her again, Se-mi gestures down at the blue patch on your chest.

During your entire walk back, you had been contemplating your unchanging choice to stay and risk your life. For the majority of the first two days, you lived life believing there would be no consequences to your death. You wouldn’t lose anything - your life was already in immense danger outside this place, so your family wouldn’t be too surprised if you turned up dead either. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain, and so, O was the easy choice.

Then Se-mi walks back into your life and complicates the hell out of it.

Now, you realize that if you vote to stay, you’re also voting for her to stay and risk her life. If either of you died here, you would be wasting this chance cast upon you to experience the world by her side.

“Yes, this should be enough money for my family to be able to live normally again.”

She nods, and even though it looks like she’s still contemplating her decision, Se-mi made her choice as soon as you took her hand in the last game.

“Even if there were less money in the pig right now, I think I’d still pick to leave.” You smile softly at her and look her directly in the eye as you continue. “Being wealthy is a faraway dream, but for now, I just want to live in the company of those I love.” You squeeze her hand and hold your gaze, and this time, Se-mi isn’t able to hold back the blush that rushes onto her face.

If these games don’t take her out, you’ll really be the death of her.

—

As you silently eat what is hopefully your last meal in this place together, two groups of men clamber out of the bathroom. They’re bloodied and there’s a horrifying look of pure bloodlust on many of their faces, and you feel your heart drop.

Would there be a fight tonight? Is that allowed?

Se-mi sees the fear on your face and gently rubs her thumb on the back of her hand. Despite her best efforts though, your concerns are not assuaged and you realize that getting shot by the pink guards might not be the only way you can die in this place.

These people are hungry and hopeless, and you fully understand the lengths many would go through for a second chance.

“Se-mi, sleep with me tonight.”

Her eyebrows raise and she smirks, but even this attempt to lighten the air with her usual humor doesn’t work, but still, she agrees immediately and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re sure that no matter what happens, you won’t find sleep tonight, but that pales in comparison to your desire to protect Se-mi at all costs.

You won’t leave this place without her.

—

As the strobe lights turn on and off, your eyes bounce around the room as you search for somewhere, anywhere that might be free of the insane violence. Every way you look, there’s some sort of fight happening - that or you’ve just watched someone get brutally murdered in their own bed. For a second, you consider that you might be safe if you and her just stand still in your little corner, but a man rounds the corner and you feel yourself freeze up.

“Come here, you fucking traitor bitch!” It’s 124, and he looks like a rabid animal with red painted across his face and a bloody fork in his hand. In the back of your mind, you slap yourself for not keeping the utensil for self defense.

Se-mi attempts to shove you further behind her as he begins charging at you two, but before you can even make a move, a glass bottle shatters at his feet. You all look up to see a young man that you don’t recognize, but from the rage on 124’s face, you figure he might’ve been one of his old teammates.

In their distracted states, you rush forward, grabbing a shard of glass from the floor and swinging it right at the man’s head. Unfortunately for you, you still have absolutely no skills when it comes to fighting and he easily dodges the hit. It doesn’t feel like some slow motion action movie when you see his fork flying at your neck at full speed, but somehow, you’re fast enough to lift your hand so that it punctures right through your palm instead. You scream, and behind you, Se-mi calls your name as well.

In an extremely painful rush of adrenaline, you maneuver his and your body to switch places, trusting Se-mi to take care of the rest. In the few flashes of light that you’re granted, you see her rush forward with her own shard of glass in hand, unforgivingly jabbing it right into the side of 124’s neck.

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!” His scream pierces your ears as he finally lets you go, and you don’t waste the moment you get. Pulling his fork out of your hand, you slam it down into the side of his head with all your strength.

A beat passes, then he falls to the ground unmoving.

“Are you okay?! Let me see!” Se-mi rushes forward and takes you in her arms, dragging both of you backwards towards the wall as she inspected your injuries. In the rush that followed watching someone die by your own hands, you can barely feel the pain at all. All you can focus on is the woman in front of you and how afraid you were when 124 charged at her.

“Se-mi - Se-mi, listen to me,” you choke you, using your bloody hands to gently hold her face. Her eyes are glossy with unshed tears, and you can see how much the encounter shook her to her core. “When we leave this place, promise me you’ll stay by my side.”

Your voice is desperate and you can feel your own tears rising, vision getting blurry as you struggle to wipe them off with the sleeve of your sweater. It looks like Se-mi barely heard your request with the way she was still scanning your body for any serious injuries.

“What?! What are you-”

“Promise me! Please!” You’re openly sobbing now, holding onto the one thing keeping you moving in this world, and finally, she focuses her gaze back on your face. With a quiet voice, she finally responds to you with a shaky smile.

“How could I ever leave you?”

Her eyes are the most expressive they’ve been, filled with concern and what looks like love, the same love that you’ve held for her ever since you were 16.

With trembling hands, she holds your face just as you hold hers and leans in, pressing her lips against yours. It’s not gentle - it’s more desperate if anything, but you feel like flying in that moment. As your legs slowly give out, she holds you carefully in her arms and lowers the both of you to the floor.

Finally, as you begin to drown out the surrounding chaos, the world around you falls silent as well. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re back in that alleyway, finally at peace with the person you love the most.

When you open your eyes again, she’s still right there in front of you, and you’re the happiest you’ve been since the day you met.

—

A/N: PLOT MONSTER STRIKES AGAIN!!! anyways this was inspired by a cherry waves edit I saw of her on TikTok where she told min-su "I thought you wouldn't deceive me" so I had to give her a girl that she KNOWS would never deceive her... okay guys hope y'all enjoy and as always plz PLZ LMK WHAT U THINK!! I love interacting with y'all im serious... and for the no eul lovers I see u and I hear u... but its gonna be a bit till that one comes out cuz im about to start second semester college... hashtag NOT FUNNY ANYMORE

also im still playing around with the layout of my posts so if I keep doing different sht and it throws u off im so sorry LOL

#squid game season 2 #squid game #player 380 #semi squid game #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #semi x reader #wlw #squid game x reader

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yuujispunches · 28 days ago

Text

Ink and permanence ~ C.K.

Pairing: tattoo artist! Choso Kamo x Reader

Summary: when you went to get your first tattooo you didn’t expect that the ink on your arm wouldn’t be the only permanent thing you would leave the studio with.

CW (content warning): modern! AU (no curses), tattoo artist!Choso, mentions of needles (tattoos), mentions of loss and tooth rotting fluff.

AN: English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this from my phone so I’m sorry if there’re any typos/mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

The soft chime of the studio doorbell almost made you turn around.

Your hand froze on the handle, breath hitching as the cool air from inside brushed against your cheeks. You were really doing this. After months of scrolling through references, bookmarking ideas, saving up every tip and leftover paycheck, you were about to get your first tattoo.

You stepped in cautiously, eyes sweeping the space like it might bite.

It didn’t.

Instead, you were met with warm lighting, mellow alt-rock humming from overhead speakers, and the rich, distinct scent of ink, disinfectant, and something faintly floral, maybe incense. The walls were covered in art: some traditional, some neo-Japanese, some experimental chaos that somehow worked. The floors were polished concrete, and plants hung lazily from the ceiling in mismatched pots. A huge, oil-rubbed copper sign near the back read KAMO INK in bold strokes.

“Hey there.” A blonde woman at the front desk greeted, popping up from behind a sleek monitor. “You’ve got that look. First timer?”

Your eyes widened, caught like a deer in headlights. “Is it that obvious?”

She grinned, pushing a strand of silvery hair behind her ear. “You’re holding your phone like a rosary and your design like it’s a secret love letter. I’m Yuki. You here for Choso?”

You nodded and quietly offered the folded sketch you had guarded all morning.

Kana took it gently, glancing it over. “Jasmine vine?”

“My mom’s favorite.” You said softly. “I drew it a few months ago. Kind of… memorial, I guess.”

She smiled with a softness that reached her eyes. “Beautiful. He’s almost ready. Want some water while you wait?”

You nodded again, retreating to a black leather couch with a water bottle and your nerves bundled under your hoodie. The studio buzzed quietly with the familiar hum of tattoo machines like bees in the walls. A sound both terrifying and hypnotic.

Just as you’d calmed your racing heart to a dull gallop, a voice broke through.

“You’re my jasmine girl?”

You looked up and froze.

Standing a few feet away, framed by the hallway’s soft light like some kind of ink-stained saint, was a man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Long, dark hair pulled into two buns that oddly worked on him, a few strands falling around his face that was adorned with a thick black line across the bridge of his nose. He wore a black sleeveless shirt that clung in just the right places and showcased arms carved with layer upon layer of tattoos, some sharp and geometric, others painterly and soft. His nose was pierced, a dark hoop in his septum. His lip as well. Even his ears bore delicate silver chains.

His eyes were what undid you. Deep, charcoal brown, and… still. Intense, but not threatening. Like he saw everything and reacted to nothing.

“Uh… yeah. That’s me.” You stood awkwardly, clutching your sketch like a talisman.

He stepped forward and took the page, scanning it with slow reverence.

“You drew this?”

You nodded, heat rushing to your ears.

“It’s really elegant.” He murmured. “Delicate, but confident line work. You ever tattoo?”

You blinked. “Me? Oh- no. God, no.”

He smiled, not big, but real. “Shame. You’ve got a good hand.”

You were too stunned to reply, so you followed silently as he gestured toward a backroom station. The walk felt longer than it was. You kept your eyes on the back of his neck, where a string of sakura petals trailed down the column of his spine, vanishing into his shirt.

“This okay?” He asked, pulling a curtain closed behind you.

You nodded, stepping into the small but organized space. Sterile tools neatly arranged. Warm lamp lighting. Another plant, this one hanging beside his seat.

“Go ahead and roll up your sleeve.” He said, already printing the stencil from a nearby tablet. “You wanted this on your forearm?”

“Yeah.” You said. “So I can see it.”

“Good spot.” He murmured. “Visible. Personal. And it’ll heal easy.”

You sat down and laid your arm on the padded rest, trying not to flinch as he cleaned the skin with practiced hands.

“You okay?”

You nodded, eyes locked on the floor. “Just nervous.”

He glanced up, and his voice softened. “Hey. Look at me.”

You did. Slowly.

“You’re allowed to be nervous.” He said gently. “First tattoos are a big deal. But I’ll take care of you, alright?”

Something in you uncoiled. Maybe it was the steadiness in his voice. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were already safe.

“Okay.” You whispered.

He worked efficiently. The stencil felt cold against your skin, but his hands were warm, firm. He angled the mirror for you once he pressed it on.

“What do you think?”

You stared. The jasmine curved gracefully from your wrist to the bend of your elbow, just like you’d envisioned.

“It’s… perfect.” You murmured. “Better than perfect.”

He gave a small nod. “Give it a minute to set. Then we’ll start.”

You watched as he moved through his setup. Gloves, inks, needles, barriers. Everything methodical. Ritualistic. It was clear he cared. Not just about the art, but the process.

The buzzing started. Your heart jumped.

Choso looked up, eyes meeting yours again. “You ready?”

You took a breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

He started at your wrist, wiping the skin one last time before the needle met flesh.

The sting was sharp. Immediate. But bearable. Like a thousand tiny paper cuts overlapping, but rhythmic.

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively curled your fingers. His hand was there, grounding.

“You’re doing great.” He reassured. “Just breathe.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the hum of the machine and not the fire beneath your skin.

“Tell me about her.” He said.

Your eyes fluttered open. “Who?”

“Your mom.” He said. “Only if you want to of course.” His voice and eyes were so soft as he observed you that you found yourself nodding slowly.

You swallowed. “She… loved gardening. Jasmine especially. Said the smell reminded her of summers in Kyoto.”

His brow lifted slightly. “Kyoto?”

“Her family was from there.” You explained. “She used to tell me stories about temple gardens and rivers that sang.”

“That’s beautiful.”

You looked away, blinking. “I used to think tattoos were scary. Like… you had to be tough. But now I think it’s the soft things that deserve permanence the most.”

Choso paused. Not in the tattoo, his hand stayed steady, but in his breath.

“That… ”He said after a moment, almost still breathless “might be the best thing I’ve ever heard in this chair.”

You smiled. Just a little. But it stayed.

The hours passed in a blur of ink, warmth, and quiet conversations.

He told you about growing up with a dozen siblings, about painting graffiti before he found tattooing, about how he brewed his own herbal teas because the store-bought stuff tasted like sadness.

In turn, you told him about your art, your cat, the way you always started books and never finished them. He teased you gently for that, but his voice never lost its softness.

“Still with me?” He asked as he reached the final leaves.

“Mhm” you hummed in response, watching the curve of his wrist.

He finished with delicate shading, wiping the area gently.

“That’s it.” He said after a few more minutes. “You made it.”

You looked down, breath catching. It was stunning.

The jasmine vine looked alive, flowing, whispering, held in soft greys and gentle lines. A small detail he’d added: one lone flower near your wrist, full bloom.

“For her.” He said, tapping it gently. “That one’s the heart of the vine.”

You blinked, suddenly overwhelmed.

“Choso…” you whispered.

He looked up, and something tender flickered in his eyes as he smiles at you.

He cleaned and wrapped the area, talking you through aftercare like a practiced lullaby. You tried to focus, but your chest was tight in a way that wasn’t nerves anymore.

He handed you his card before you left. Not just the studio one but his.

“For touch-ups. Or if you wanna talk through another piece. Or, you know… coffee.”

You looked up. “Coffee?”

He shrugged. “Or tea. Or books you won’t finish. Or anything.”

You stared at the name on the card, fingers brushing the edge.

“You ask all your clients out?”

He smirked, just barely. “Only the ones who stare at me like I’m about to eat their soul and still call my work perfect.”

You laughed, really laughed, for the first time in days.

“Well…” You said, tucking the card in your sleeve. “I guess I’ll owe you coffee then.”

His smile was slow, but bright. “I’ll hold you to it.”

You walked out of the studio with a bandaged arm, a swelling heart, and something lighter in your chest than you’d felt in months.

Ink beneath your skin. His number in your hand.

Maybe softness wasn’t meant to be hidden. Maybe it was meant to be permanent.

——————————————————————————

The card sat on your nightstand for three days before you texted him.

Not because you didn’t want to. You did, so much it made your chest ache. But every time you picked up your phone, your fingers hovered over the screen like you needed permission. You kept wondering if the warmth he gave you was real, or just another fleeting moment you'd rewrite into something bigger.

Eventually, the ache to see him again outweighed the fear.

Hi. This is your jasmine girl. Still owe you coffee. :)

His reply came faster than you expected.

I was starting to think you ghosted me. You free Friday? There’s a place I like. Quiet. Good tea.

You stared at the screen, heart thumping loud in your ears.

Friday sounds perfect.

——————————————————————————

The café was tucked between a dusty old bookstore and a florist that smelled like lilies and clove.

Warm wood and brick lined the inside walls. The music was soft, barely there, an acoustic cover of a song you couldn’t place. Someone was knitting in the corner. The barista had silver ink up their neck. It was a space made for softness and staying.

Choso was already there.

He stood when he saw you, rising from a window seat with a half-finished mug in his hand. He wore a loose charcoal sweater, sleeves pushed past his elbows, revealing the inked patterns running down his arms fluid, bold, meticulous. His hair was down today, draped over his shoulders, framing his face in a way that made your breath stick for a second.

“You came.” He said, his voice quieter than you remembered. Almost cautious.

You smiled as you slid into the seat across from him. “I said I owed you coffee.”

His mouth twitched like he wanted to smile bigger but wasn’t sure if he should.

“You still do.” He said, and gestured toward the counter. “Go ahead, I’ll keep the seat warm.”

You returned a few minutes later with a lavender chai, extra honey, and tucked yourself into the opposite cushion. He watched you for a beat.

“What?” You asked, already blushing.

“You suit this place.” He said.

You blinked. “How?”

He shrugged. “Gentle. But you notice everything.”

The heat in your cheeks didn’t fade. It bloomed.

Conversation flowed more easily than you expected. He asked about your job, your art, your favorite time of day. You told him you liked the hour just before dusk, when everything was soft and fading but not quite gone.

He told you his was just before dawn.

“I like the quiet.” He said. “The way the light crawls back in slow. Like the world’s deciding if it wants to wake up.”

You sipped your drink. “You’re more poetic than I expected.”

He gave you a look. “What did you expect?”

You grinned. “More brooding. Less… tea metaphors.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “You think I’m brooding?”

You tilted your head. “You have a ring in your lip and an entire graveyard tattooed on your forearm.”

“It’s a tribute to my brother.” He said quietly.

Immediately, your smile dropped. “Shit- I didn’t mean- ”

Choso raised a hand gently. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

You hesitated. “What happened?”

His eyes drifted to the window for a moment. “Car crash. Few years ago.”

You waited.

“He was loud. Way louder than me. Used to rap into his cereal spoon and try to convince me to join his imaginary band.”

A small laugh escaped you. “What was the band called?”

“Concrete Lotus.” Choso deadpanned.

You laughed. “That’s… actually not terrible.”

He cracked a faint smile. “He’d be thrilled to hear that.”

You held his gaze for a long moment. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thanks for asking.”

——————————————————————————

When the sky outside had darkened into navy and the lights in the café had grown dimmer, you lingered at the door with him.

“So…” You said.

“So…” He echoed, stepping closer.

You looked up at him, unsure if the pounding in your chest was nerves or the weight of wanting something.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

Your breath caught and stayed frozen for a moment. You nodded, too stunned and nervous to trust your voice now.

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t tentative. His lips met yours like he’d been waiting, not just today, but longer. Like something inside him had been reaching out for someone else’s softness and found it.

Your hand curled into the front of his sweater without thinking. His fingers brushed your jaw, then the side of your neck, and for a second, the world stilled.

He pulled back slowly, forehead resting against yours.

“You taste like honey.” He murmured.

“You taste like trouble.” You whispered back.

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “Maybe. But the good kind.”

——————————————————————————

Things unfolded slowly after that.

You started texting every day. Then voice notes. Then late-night calls when neither of you could sleep. He sent you photos of work in progress, close-ups of inked skin and faded sketches and you sent him your latest pencil drawings and in-progress watercolors.

By the second week, you knew the names of all seven of his plants and most of his siblings. By the third, he knew the name of the perfume you wore and which tea you liked best depending on the weather.

He took you to ramen spots, bookstores, record shops. You took him to quiet parks, art galleries, street fairs. He never rushed you. Never crossed a line. But his touch always lingered, fingertips against your wrist, palm on the small of your back, a kiss pressed to your temple when he dropped you off.

And when you finally visited his apartment?

It surprised you.

Minimalist. Neat. Lots of art. A couch you could melt into. A cat named Peaches who didn’t like anyone but instantly curled into your lap. You stayed on that couch for hours. Talking, sketching, legs tangled together like it had always been that way.

——————————————————————————

“I want another tattoo.” You said one evening, curled under one of his throw blankets, your head on his shoulder.

Choso turned slightly. “Already?”

You looked up at him. “Too soon?”

“No.” He said. “Just… didn’t expect it.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small folded sketch. It was more abstract this time, your own design. Delicate curves, this time it was a shark, interwoven with stars and linework shaped like heartbeat waves.

He stared at it in silence.

“This one’s about healing.” You said quietly. “For what comes after.”

Choso’s hand brushed your thigh. “You want me to do it?”

You nodded.

He looked at you for a long moment. “I’d be honored.”

——————————————————————————

The second session was different.

You weren’t nervous. No hoodie wrapped around your body like armor. Just a simple cotton shirt, your hair pulled back, and a small smile on your face as you walked into the same studio room where you first met.

Choso prepped like always. Gloves, sterilization, careful precision. But now his touches lingered. His fingers brushed your shoulder before he applied the stencil, and when he asked if you were ready, he leaned down and kissed your temple first.

The tattoo was quiet. Not in sound, but in feeling.

You sat with your eyes closed as he worked, and for a long stretch, neither of you spoke. Just the hum of the machine and the warmth of his presence.

When he finished, he wrapped your arm, then bent to press a kiss to your bandage.

“What’s this one mean?” He asked.

You met his eyes.

“That I’m not afraid anymore.”

His hands settled on your waist, his lips on your jaw.

He held you for a long time that night.

——————————————————————————

Months passed.

You watched spring bloom, then shift into the wet heat of early summer. You fell asleep in his bed, woke up to his raspy voice saying your name like it was a prayer. You met his friends. Loud, chaotic, messy, beautiful people who all hugged like they hadn’t seen you in years.

You introduced him to your sketchbook. Let him see pages no one else had seen. Designs unfinished. Feelings unfiltered. He looked at them like they were a gallery.

He asked you one night, while you were sketching on his couch. “Ever thought about apprenticing?”

You looked up. “What?”

“With me.” He said. “Tattooing.”

You blinked. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

You shook your head, heart fluttering. “I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

He didn’t push. Just smiled. “When you are, I’ll teach you.”

——————————————————————————

That summer, he gave you your third tattoo.

A tiny one. Hidden behind your ear. A single heart, no bigger than a grain of rice.

“Protection.” He said, pressing his lips there afterward. “For all the parts of you you’re still finding.”

You kissed him slow that night, hands in his hair, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his back like Braille. Like stories.

——————————————————————————You knew something was different when Choso cleaned his apartment three times in one morning.

It started with him vacuuming the entire place twice while you sipped your tea from his kitchen counter, watching the usually-unbothered tattoo artist mutter about “streaks on the glass” and “cat hair in the couch seams.” Peaches watched him with disdain from her perch by the window, tail twitching like even she thought he was being dramatic.

“Everything okay?” You asked finally, when he scrubbed the coffee table for the third time.

Choso didn’t look at you at first. Just wiped harder.

“Choso.”

He exhaled through his nose and straightened up, cloth in hand. “Yuji’s coming over.”

You blinked. “Yuji?”

“My little brother.”

Your heart skipped. “You never said I’d be meeting him today.”

“I didn’t know until last night.” He admitted. “He’s usually busy with school. And sports. And saving stray dogs. He’s basically a golden retriever in human form.”

You smiled. “Sounds adorable.”

“He is. He’s also…” Choso hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the cloth. “Important to me.”

You softened. “I know.”

“I just don’t- ” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not easy bringing people into that part of my life.”

You crossed the room, wrapped your arms around his waist, and leaned into his chest.

“I’m honored.” You said into the cotton of his T-shirt. “And nervous. But mostly honored.” That earned you a soft chuckle from your boyfriend.

His arms came around you slowly, like he needed to be sure this was real. “You don’t have to say anything special. Just be yourself.”

You tilted your head. “What if myself is awkward and says something like ‘sports are neat’?”

Choso smiled against your hair. “Then Yuji will probably ask you to come to his next game.”

You pulled back, searching his face. “Are you sure you want me to meet him?”

He nodded. And in that simple movement, you felt something deeper, something heavier, settle between you. He wasn’t just introducing you to his brother.

He was letting you into the last piece of his heart.

——————————————————————————

Yuji arrived an hour later, knocking twice before opening the door with a grin that could’ve powered a small city.

“Yo!” He called, stepping inside in a hoodie three sizes too big and a skateboard tucked under one arm. His hair was bubblegum pink today, wild and soft, and his sneakers squeaked against the floor as he kicked them off.

Then he saw you and his grin widened.

“Hi!” He greeted enthusiastically, walking straight over and offering a hand. “You must be the jasmine girl!”

Your eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Choso didn’t shut up about you for two weeks.” Yuji said cheerfully. “It was kind of adorable.”

You glanced at Choso, who was now silently contemplating his life choices by the kitchen counter.

“I’m Yuji.” He said. “Obviously. And you are way cuter than the doodles Choso keeps in his sketchbook.”

“Yuji.” Choso growled.

You blushed. “He has doodles of me?”

Yuji looked proud. “Like, a hundred.”

You turned to Choso, who looked like he was about to evaporate.

“They’re just... studies.” he mumbled avoiding your gaze as a rosy dust started to form under the ink on his face.

You stepped closer, rising on your toes to kiss his cheek. “I want to see them later.”

Yuji let out a victorious whoop.

“Damn!” He said, flopping onto the couch. “No wonder he’s been in a good mood lately.”

——————————————————————————

The afternoon passed in laughter.

Yuji was everything Choso had said and more. Bright, open-hearted, funny without trying. He talked about his classes, his friends, his terrible cooking attempts. You found yourself easing into the conversation faster than you expected.

At one point, you and Yuji were talking about your favorite animated movies when you felt Choso’s arm slide around your waist, his fingers slipping into the space between your ribs and hip like they belonged there.

You glanced at him. He didn’t say anything, just watched you and Yuji with a look so soft, so full of quiet awe, that your heart twisted.

Later, while Yuji played with Peaches on the rug, you found yourself alone with Choso in the kitchen.

He was stirring a pot of soup, something simple and warm but his eyes kept drifting to the living room.

“You okay?” You asked, leaning beside him.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“You look like you’re thinking.”

He was quiet for a long beat. “I never thought I’d have this.”

You turned toward him. “Have what?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. “Something stable. Safe. Family that doesn’t feel… broken.”

Your heart clenched. You reached for his hand, fingers threading through his.

“You do.” You whispered. “You have it now.”

He looked down at your joined hands. “I know.”

Then he lifted them, kissed the back of your knuckles, and held them against his cheek.

“I’m glad it’s you.” He said. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to bring home.”

——————————————————————————

Yuji left just after sunset, giving you a long hug and promising to send you the “worst memes in existence” as a thank-you for being cool.

“Take care of him.” He said quietly, when Choso stepped away to grab his jacket.

You blinked. “I’m trying.”

Yuji smiled, softer this time. “He doesn’t let people in easy. But he’s all heart. All the way down.”

You nodded. “I know.” And you did.

——————————————————————————

That night, after the dishes were done and the city lights flickered outside the windows, you curled into Choso’s lap on the couch. You were quiet for a long time, your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his arm without really thinking.

“Thank you.” He said.

You looked up. “For what?”

“For not running.” He said simply.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“I know.” He kissed the top of your head. “Still. Thank you.”

You shifted slightly, enough to look up into his eyes. They were dark, soft, unguarded.

“I love you.” You whispered.

It wasn’t planned. Wasn’t a dramatic build-up. It just… came. Quiet and real, like everything between you always had.

Choso didn’t answer right away. Instead, he touched your face, his thumb brushing your cheek like it was the most important moment of his life.

“I love you too.” He said finally. “I think I’ve known since I saw the jasmine sketch.” You leaned into his palm. His voice was hoarse. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel that again.”

You kissed him like a promise. Like home.

You spent that night tangled together under the blankets, his heartbeat steady under your cheek, his breath warm against your forehead. Outside, the city moved, the wind whispered, the stars blinked quietly behind clouds.

But inside, everything was still. Safe.

Yours.

——————————————————————————

Weeks later, you were curled on the tattoo studio couch during Choso’s break, sketching flowers in a new notebook.

He looked up from the front desk and smiled. “What are you working on?”

“Designs.” You said, showing him the pages. “For practice.”

He crossed the room, leaned down, and kissed your forehead. “You’re going to be brilliant.” He said.

You smiled. “Only because I have the best teacher.”

He traced a jasmine bloom on your sketchpad. “And I have the best muse.”

Tags: @hawkwithsocks @noooo-onee @pickledsoda @suna-yoshihara

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