#I'm not sure if there have ever been references to his age

[profiteroleval]

My fanfiction research is going well

[orchidyoonkook]

PG | KTH

Title: PG 

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point. 

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends. 

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother. 

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out. 

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too. 

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two. 

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay. 

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him. 

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long. 

Every time you could get it. 

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team. 

For four years. 

And then the university swim team.

For another four. 

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then. 

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would. 

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim. 

Thank god for sunglasses. 

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you. 

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet? 

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile. 

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong. 

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you. 

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung. 

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt. 

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that. 

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more. 

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught. 

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt. 

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually. 

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart. 

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water. 

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.  

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool. 

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days. 

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun. 

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really. 

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped. 

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking. 

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that. 

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches. 

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets. 

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?” 

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat. 

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes. 

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?” 

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him. 

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager. 

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit. 

And it works like a charm. 

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that. 

Definitely not.  

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again. 

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding. 

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air. 

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend. 

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say. 

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand. 

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end. 

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother. 

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction. 

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen. 

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool. 

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel. 

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you. 

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch. 

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge. 

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell. 

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims. 

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven. 

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday. 

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for. 

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids. 

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you. 

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed. 

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break. 

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you. 

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually. 

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit. 

So, with quickly shrinking fifteen feet between you two, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer. 

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks. 

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close. 

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you. 

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there. 

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed. 

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends. 

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays. 

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating. 

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother. 

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall. 

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent. 

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained. 

And yet. 

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot. 

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you. 

But you push him away. 

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t. 

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend. 

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’. 

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more. 

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment. 

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air. 

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages. 

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself. 

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did. 

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left. 

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist. 

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think. 

Because Fourteen isn't here. 

And old habits die hard. 

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising. 

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner. 

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him. 

Safe. 

You’re safe. 

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body. 

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous. 

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years. 

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung. 

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan. 

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety. 

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions. 

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight. 

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood. 

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor. 

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment. 

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by. 

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?” 

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now. 

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth. 

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth. 

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed. 

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back. 

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it. 

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him. 

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black. 

Oh you are so fucked.

 “As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like. 

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine. 

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point. 

My Girl.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once. 

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up. 

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth. 

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips. 

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does. 

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes. 

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck. 

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows,  the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing. 

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it. 

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine. 

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it. 

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night. 

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere. 

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you. 

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone. 

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part. 

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently. 

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end. 

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.” 

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders. 

It makes you smile wickedly. 

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw. 

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you. 

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick. 

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything. 

Yet.

 “Can you behave for that long?” 

You smirk. 

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe. 

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well. 

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby. 

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need. 

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs. 

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae. 

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky. 

Mesmerizing. 

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his. 

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him. 

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge. 

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat. 

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a  low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure. 

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you. 

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks. 

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips. 

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees. 

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it. 

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well. 

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you. 

Taehyung. 

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung. 

Wants you. 

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving. 

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned. 

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side. 

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming. 

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess. 

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis. 

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes. 

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body. 

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again. 

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time. 

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pour in your body. The damningly  deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed. 

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again. 

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it. 

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out. 

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth. 

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time. 

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents. 

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact. 

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.” 

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine. 

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and  delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.” 

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled. 

Blissful. 

Then pushes back in, methodically. 

Torturous. 

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is. 

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over. 

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas. 

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well. 

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you. 

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough. 

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own. 

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless. 

It’s a great move but it’s exerting. 

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone. 

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around. 

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass. 

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain. 

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance. 

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you. 

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care. 

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane. 

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be. 

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you. 

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion. 

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and  drown in once another’s embrace. 

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another. 

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect. 

Before consequences kick in and regrets form. 

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets. 

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning. 

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away. 

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning. 

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out. 

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies. 

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground. 

“All of it. Any of it.”

There. 

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him. 

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened. 

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts. 

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself. 

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion. 

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg. 

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place. 

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move. 

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right. 

An idea strikes. 

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door. 

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

[ohtobeleah]

If Logan is one thing, it's protective. and not in a "You're mine and can't do anything for yourself" Toxic way. He's protective in an "I'll literally do anything and everything for you, come hell or high water, I'd throw my over-extended life on the line to keep you safe."

I could see the two of you getting in some sort of car accident. He was the one driving. Something he always insists on doing. You don't often fight him on matters like who does what and when. You enjoy the journey just as much as getting to the destination with Logan in all aspects of life. Just being in each other's presence is enough for you most of the time.

"Y/n?" Logan growls as he comes to. Hell if the impact was enough to rattle him, it had to be enough to be a cause for concern for you. "Honey?" He looks over to where you're slumped in the passenger seat. Not only had you been wearing your seatbelt, but with an instinct to keep you safe, keep you protected from harm's way, Logan had flung his arm across your chest to keep you back against the seat.

"Fuck, Honey, hey--?" Logans reaches over, groaning as he moves. there's shattered glass fragments and twisted aluminium all around you. "I've got you," He taps your cheek softly, trying his best to coax you out of your unconscious state. "I'm here, wake up for me?" Logan seems to be asking questions when in reality it's more of a statement. he needs you to wake up, he needs you to be alright. without you? Logan isn't sure if he could keep living.

"Don't do this to me, please?" He nearly cries as your head lulls to the side, blood dripping from your nose, and your mouth. "I love you," He admits softly while trying to assess the damage done from the impact. You're his girl, why would someone try and take you away from him like this? Had he not been through enough loss? enough hurt?

"Did you just say you love me, Lo?" You mumble as your eyelids flicker. Logan lets out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding in. "That's kinda sweet, I'm telling your boyfriend." Logan knew you were referring to Wade, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that you were still here with him.

"You're hearing things," Logan replied as a smile crept across his aging face. The salt and pepper beard prevalent on his cheeks is speckled blood. "Don't scare me like that ever again, you hear me?"

"You're the one who's driving," You look across to where Logan is sitting, the pair of you still trapped in a twisted mess. "And I think it's time for you to wake up now." You stare at him a little more seriously than what you'd just been. Logan feels himself slipping back to reality...only to wake up on your lounge, alone.

"Ahhh!" Logan wakes with an audible gasp as his claws eject from between his knuckles. It's something he's become accustomed to. Waking in the middle of the night from nightmares that haunt him from his past. But these ones were new to him. The fear of losing you had begun to creep into his subconscious.

He's sweating, shaking from a heightened level of adrenaline and fear. But your voice cuts through it all.

"You were dreaming again," You speak up from where you're perched on the kitchen bench. Just sitting, drinking a cup of tea. Watching the man who'd stayed the night sleep on your couch because he refused to stay in your bed. "Kept calling my name out, I saw your uh--claws and thought perhaps keeping a safe distance would be practical."

"Come here," Logan sighs in frustration on two fronts. One, from his utterly confronting nightmare. Two, you somehow manage to sneak up on him like no one else can. "Please?" So that's what you do. You pad over in your underwear and perch yourself on Logan's lap. "What happened Lo?" You coo as your fingers card through his locks.

"I don't know what I'd ever do if I lost you, Honey." He replies sincerely, softly. It's a nice juxtaposition to his normal brooding self.

"Good thing I don't have any plans on going anywhere anytime soon, huh?" You whisper through a smile as you gently press your lips against Logans. He accepts the gesture and goes with the flow. Leaning back against the couch as you deepen the kiss. "Come to bed with me?"

"You know I can't--" Logan whispers into your mouth. "But can you stay here for a few minutes?" He counters your offer with his own. "Please?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Lo." You remind him, kissing him gently and ever so slow as Logan melts against you. And for as protective as Logan is, for the first time, someone was just as willing to be his safeguard in return. "You're safe with me."

You keep him safe from himself.

Ilya

[milksuu]

Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers. 

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors. 

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

 EMAIL: yone123@riotstudios.com

TELEPHONE:  XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his  protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.” 

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.” 

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place. 

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.” 

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest. 

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute. 

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.” 

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn. 

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps. 

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness. 

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.” 

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool. 

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too. 

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.” 

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.  

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite. 

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.” 

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. &lt;3

[ghoulphile]

I'm gonna call out my daddy issues here when I say this but you think coop refers to the age gap you would undoubtedly have? Like he would have you cornered and have his hands up your shirt whispering about how "you shouldn't let a dirty old man touch you like this." like HELLO 😍

me thinks the man doth protest too much 😉

(oops my daddy issues reared their head, my bad sksksk)

i think he'd be super hesitant but once you gave him the green light, he'd go full steam ahead - though he'd be whispering the whole time how wrong this is, how he shouldn't be doing this - fuck what is he thinking - why are you letting him do this? don't you care that he's old enough to be your father? why are you allowing him to touch and kiss and fuck you?

surely it can't feel that good when his hands slide up your shirt, cup your tits and roll his thumbs over your nipples. pinch and pluck and play as he kisses his way up the side of your neck.

nips on your earlobe. slide the other hand between your thighs to feel how soaked your panties are, brushing rough fingertips over damp cotton to rub firm circles against your aching clit.

to tug them aside so he can slip his fingers in, only to groan about how tight and warm and soft you are when you cry out at how wide they spread you open. how this has to be a dream, there's no way you're seriously getting off on this.

right?

the talented flick of his wrist as he strokes along the front wall of your pussy, tapping at the rough patch of ridges that make up your g-spot with the pads of his fingers. grinding in and holding until your thighs are shaking, knees soft and doughy.

how you pant into his mouth, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as your hands sink into his hair, tugging as you rock into his touch. how you shiver, full-bodied, as he punches desperate little moans out of your mouth.

you should not be doing this, it's so so wrong. what if you get caught? there'll be no living it down. and yet he's never been harder in his life, his cock filling out the front of his pants, zipper digging painfully into the leaking head.

you feel, taste, and sound so good.

and while he shouldn't, he wants to get you under him, fuck his way between those thighs. make you cry and gasp and clutch at his shoulders when you cum around his cock, nails digging lines down his back.

he can't - he can't.

but oh, does he want to.

wants to stretch that pretty pussy out and show you how all the guys your age don't compare to the experience he's got. wants to prove how fast he can make you cum for him.

have you ever actually cum sweetheart? have any of those boys you've fooled around with really cared long enough to truly pleasure you, drag you to the edge by your fingernails? do they even know where the clit is?

from the way you buck and claw, kisses harsh and tongue desperate, he'd hazard that's a no. but it's okay because while this is wrong (on so many different levels), while he really really shouldn't (but really really wants to), he can show you what it's like. an educational experience, as it were.

it's okay, it'll be your little secret. after all, a pretty young thing like you deserves to be used well. and though everything in him rebels against the idea, he's mighty flattered you choose him.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 3: Please Remember to Take Your Happy Pills

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Despite your insistences for Ben to just go away, he walked with you to “Please Don’t Die,” the plant shop that you’d been working at since you moved to New York, all the while complaining about the fact that you didn’t have a car.

You wondered if he'd ever had friends that didn't have as much money as he did or if he just lived in the asshole rich dude bubble.

You never hated walking. Something about walking through Central Park invigorated you, being surrounded by all the plants made you feel grounded  and more in the moment. It made you feel alive. Not to mention you liked walking past all the flower shops and perking up the bouquets of flowers wrapped in plastic and placed in black bins as you walked. And even though you were late, you figured that you always had time to use your powers just to make everything a little bit greener.

Maybe it was cliché, but you hated seeing dead plants and dead flowers. Whenever you went home you always spent time in your grandmother's garden making sure that everything was growing as it should and even the plants in your home never seemed to wilt.

Which probably meant that you were working in the right place.

The shop you work at is the same as it’s always been. Outside the brick was painted a cheerful white, with black trim that frames the large glass windows and a black glass door the proclaims the name of the shop in strong block letters. Each window display was changed every other day and were both currently crowded with multicolored plants that stretched towards the warm sunlight on the street while the glass skull planters your boss, Jake, had placed artfully inside glittered black.

When you open the door, the smell of soil, earth, and water greet you, wafting out to envelop your body in a layer of comfort.

You feel your body physically relax as you step over the threshold. The thrum of your abilities reaching out, flowing through the branches, stems, and leaves of the plants, soaking through your bones to connect you to them. You could feel every twig, every small push of roots in the soil, every unfurling of new leaves from each plant in the shop. It was impossible to see beyond the rows and displays of potted plants that trailed languidly on the clean concrete floors. Wooden shelves were bolted to the walls covered in layers of green foliage so dense you couldn’t see the red brick behind. Displays of bouquets sprouted dark purple, deep red, vivid blue,  and warm orange, sat wrapped in plastic and ready to be purchased on the left wall, next to coolers filled with even larger bouquets in ornate glass vases.

Herbs crowded the front of the register at the back of the room, sending the sharp scent of mint, the spicy scent of chives, and the soothing smell of rosemary into the air. Vines wove above your head hanging from the ceiling to cover the plastic squares that lined the roof making it seem as if you had entered under the dark canopy in the jungle. The rest of the shop was hidden behind rows and rows of potted plants, on long wooden shelves and tall potted plants that reached up to the ceiling, giving the illusion that as soon as you entered the shop, it was like you entered another world, cut off from the rest of New York.

It honestly felt like home, felt just like your apartment as you stood there in the humid air, the sound of the misters turning on and off echoing the deeper you went into the store.

Plants were easier than people. You learned that early on.

It didn’t matter where you were, plants always called out to you, from the smallest seedling to the mightiest oak, you were connected with them. When you were away from them it was almost painful. As a kid whenever your parents took you on a plane, you had to carry seed packets in your pockets, nursing small seedlings as you left the earth behind and took to the sky. When Annie had a weekend off from her patrol back home, she had suggested that the two of you go on a cruise. Neither of you had seen the ocean and it had seemed like a good idea up until you stepped foot on the ship.

At first you thought that you were seasick, the dizziness and the puking that followed seemed to be due to the boat rocking back and forth, but the only way you were able to get out of bed and avoid puking your guts out was when Annie brought you some grapes from the buffet and you covered your entire cabin in grape vines to make you feel better. And the rest of the trip you had woven vines in your hair to stay just a little more grounded to the world you left behind when you stepped foot on the ship.

“Y/n is that you?” You hear your boss, Jake, call from somewhere inside.

“Yeah I’m sorry I’m late!” You shout back. He was still hidden by the dense displays of plants that stood like silent watchmen just at the front of the shop.

“It’s fine.” He replies.

You turn to glare at Ben. “You can go now.”

He’s not paying attention to you, he’s surveying the room, surprised by how green it is.

He’s going to have to get used to that if he’s going to force himself into my life.

Jake pushes through the wall of plants in front of you, holding a giant Monstera in a gallon bucket. The leaves were easily as big as your head and you’re surprised that Jake can move it, given that he wasn't a supe. He stumbles slightly under the weight and you rush forward to take it from him.

But just as you take it from Jake, your own super strength buckling slightly under the weight, Ben pulls it from your arms and holds it in one hand. You were only slightly stronger than the average person, enough to hold your own, but not enough to lift a car over your head.

“Where do you want it?” He says looking from you to Jake.

Jake is… Jake. He’s taller than you, with sandy blonde hair that curls slightly behind his ears and hangs long and shaggy on top of his head. His bright blue eyes are hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses. Today he’s wearing his usual flannel pushed up to his elbows that reveals tanned, freckled, and muscular arms, not as muscular as Ben, but enough to notice, and a pair of blue jeans.

They were his favorite pair, worn in just right at the knees. You gathered that by how often he wore them. Not to mention you appreciated how he filled them out.

In the way that Ben was tall, dark, and handsome, Jake was tall, bright, and beautiful. He always smiled when he saw you, always tried his hardest to make you laugh on a day that never seemed to end, and he always seemed to have the best advice when everything seemed hopeless. He was a good friend. A good friend that you had kept separate from the supe world. He didn’t know what you could do and you wanted to keep it that way at least for now.

Your record with non-supe friends was dismal and you didn't want to ruin your friendship with him.

“Whoa um-" Jake clears his throat. "Just over by the calatheas.” Jake's eyes widen seeing how easily Ben holds the gallon sized barrel in one hand, hefting the monstera easily.

“The what?” Ben frowns rudely.

“The striped plants over there.” You point at the collection of lemon lime prayer plants that sit prettily on a circular wooden table in one of the front displays.

Ben walks away still toting the monstera like it weighs nothing in his right hand.

“Do you know him?” Jake watches Ben curiously.

“Unfortunately.” You frown, but shake it off when you look at Jake. It was easy to smile at him. “How are you?”

“Good. Got here early. The shipment of Christmas cactus came in. Needed to start breaking down one of the displays to find a place to put them.” Jake returns your smile. “You doin' okay? You look a little frazzled.” His southern twang slips into his honeyed voice.

Jake like you, wasn’t from the city, he was from the south and moved to New York to go to get a degree in environmental law, but when he got certified he opened “Please Don’t Die” and the rest was history.

You glance over at Ben who is now walking back towards the two of you, still frowning. “I didn’t have my coffee today.” It was the truth, but you didn't want to say that the reason why you looked so 'frazzled' was that you were spending time with the bane of your existence.

“I figured. Which is why I grabbed you one. It’s on the register.” Jake nods back in the direction of the antique bar top turned desk where a cup of coffee sits slightly steaming in the humid air.

“You’re officially the best part about today.”

“That’s what I say about you every day.” He winks making you flush. “Oh wait you’ve got an eyelash.”

Ben stiffens beside you as Jake steps forward into your space and gently brushes his index finger under your right cheek. Pins and needles trace behind the movement and you can feel your heartbeat stutter. “There you go.” Jake wipes his hand on his flannel.

Ben huffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.

Jake looks up at him, because Ben was about three inches taller. “Hey I’m Jake.” He extends his hand towards Ben.

Ben eyes it. “Ben.” He grunts not taking Jake's hand and deepening his frown.

Jake's smile falters a little.

“Please ignore Gramps, he forgot to take his happy pills this morning.” You nudge Ben with your elbow. "Be nice." You whisper low enough for only Ben to hear.

“I think he took them for me sweetheart.” Ben mutters back. "It's nice to meet you." Ben says tightly, in a way that doesn't seem like it's nice to meet Jake at all.

“Gramps?” Jake looks confused as he retracts his hand.

“Nickname for sunshine.” You gesture with your thumb to where Ben glowers at the mention of the nickname. “But he was just leaving.”

“Oh. Well if you need me I’m going to be over by the hydrangeas. Do you think you can start working on the plants in the back? They need a little TLC.” Jake rubs the back of his neck. "I know you're better at that kind of thing."

“Of course. It’s what I’m here for.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you darlin'.” Jake laughs and walks off towards the blue and pink flowering plants in sleek silver pots towards the door.

Ben eyes your boss up and down, watching how he turns away from the two of you but stays within earshot. “He wants to fuck you.” Ben says a little too loudly.

“What?” You whisper yell, dragging Ben away into the dense foliage on the other side of the shop. “Shut up he can hear you! And we’re just friends.”

“You’ve never heard about friends fucking? I mean if you and I started to-"

“Not going to happen. And we’re not friends!” You frown at him.

“I mean, I am living with you.” Ben crosses his hands over his chest and shrugs.

“You’re not living with me. How many times do I have to say that?” 

“As many times as you want. I love the sound of your voice. I bet you could say some pretty kinky-“

Your eyes shift to a dangerous bright green, the entire room vibrating with energy as the plants begin to bend to your will.

“I know you think that using your powers is supposed to scare me, but I think it’s sexy when you do that.” Ben smirks. “Your eyes turn that gorgeous shade of green.”

“Please go away.”

“Fine. But he does want to fuck you.”  Ben smirks. He cocks his head to the side examining you for a moment. "You want him to, don’t you Petals?”

"No I don't!”

I mean I could do a lot worse than Jake.

He was exactly what you were looking for. Someone sweet, who  understood what love was, and actually cared for other people. He was smart and funny, and he loved plants almost as much as you did. He understood how important they were and how to take care of them. Not to mention he actually had feelings and knew how to express them, unlike the toddler standing in front of you.

You grab on to Ben’s arm and drag him further into the shop away from your boss to make sure that you’re no longer within earshot. “Contrary to whatever belief you have, not everyone is focused on sex all the time-“

“They are.”

“No they’re not. There are other things-“

“Like what?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Um.”

You honestly couldn’t think when Ben was standing so close to you, towering over you, staring at you with those bright green eyes that always seemed to consume you. Your eyes slide to a cork board filled with seed packets on the wall above his head.

 “Like watermelon and blueberries and-“ You begin to say, reading the names.

“You’re just listing fruit sweetheart.” Ben chuckles under his breath. “You know what I think?”

“No and I don’t care.”

“I think you think about having sex with me.”

“What?” You shout louder than you should

“Mhmm." Ben traces his hand along your cheek, but you swat it away. "This morning you were awfully red when you bumped into me in the hallway. Not to mention in the kitchen when you were against the counter. Your heart was beating so fast. And I could practically smell how w-“

“Finish that sentence and lose your tongue.” You snarl grabbing the front of his shirt tightly in your hand.

“Doll I don’t think you want to rip my tongue out. Not with what I could do to you with it.”

You groan and withdraw your hand, fighting the urge to punch him. “Can you please leave? Don’t you have anyone else to sexually harass? Like Hughie maybe?”

“Hughie’s a guy?” Ben looks confused at your mention of Annie’s boyfriend.

“So? I kinda think you’re overcompensating for something by sleeping with that many women.”

Ben only laughs. "If you slept with me I'm sure that you'd see what all the fuss is about." He looks over through the walls of green leaves to where Jake is standing, watering a display of hydrangeas. Every few moments Jake would look over in your direction over his shoulder as if to check if you were okay. “How long have you worked here?”

"What does that have to do with anything?" You cross your arms over your chest confused.

Why does he care about that?

"Just answer the question doll-face."

"Two years."

"And you've liked him this whole time?" He cocks his eyebrow.

"No."

"You're worse than Mike doll."

"I am not."

"Mhmm."

"And I don't want him to sleep with me."

"Sure."

"Again, not everyone is focused on sex. And maybe you think that's the most important thing, but I'd rather have a relationship with someone." You turn to busy yourself with straightening the seed packets on the cork board, wishing that you weren't about to have this conversation with Soldier Boy of all people.

"So no sex?" Ben taunts.

You bite the inside of your cheek, transferring a packet of potato seeds back to the correct peg and reach for a packet of watermelon seeds to avoid eye contact.

I can't believe that I'm about to say this.

"I think that sex is better when you have a deep emotional connection with someone.  Someone who cares about you, who sees every part of you, even the bad things and they don't care. I wouldn't expect you to give a fuck about any of that."

"I don't." He breezes and you can imagine just how carefree he looks. You could feel his breath on your neck reminding you of your position earlier today.

"Exactly." You roll your eyes. But deep down you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed with his confession and you hated that you were disappointed.

What? Did you think that he was going to change? That he was going to suddenly be the kind of guy you wanted after he practically forced his way onto your couch?

“You’re serious about him though? Looks like the kind of guy who would cry when he fucks you. You really want him instead of me?” Ben leans into the space next to you, trying to catch your eye, which you successfully avoid. "I mean, come on Petals, he's not even a supe."

"What?"

"He's-not-a-supe." Ben says it again, slowly like you're an idiot.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh please, you think that guy is the one? The one you've been waiting for? I've seen you in a fight and there's no way he could handle you. He couldn't even carry that fucking plant! If he tried to fuck you, you'd snap him in half."

Your cheeks flare an angry red that creeps back into your neck, and up your ears. "That is none of your business."

"It would be if you'd just let me fuck you. Show you what you've been missing." He cocks an eyebrow.

You fight the urge to slap the look off his face. “I can’t do this with you right now. I haven’t had my coffee.”

"He brought you some." Ben sing-songs, but you ignore him. "Fine. I’ve got to go anyway. Butcher wants me to meet him at some park in fucking Jersey.”

“You need me to write it down for you? Using your newfangled doohickey probably might be too much huh?” You turn and shake your phone for emphasis at him.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I think I’m capable of finding it.” He turns to go but stops glancing over his shoulder at you. “Are you gonna be at the apartment tonight?”

“What apartment? My apartment? The apartment that you're squatting in like a hobo?"

“No Butcher’s.” Ben glowers.

“I mean maybe?” You shrug. “I’ve still got to make a list of auto shops to visit this week. Butcher wants me to try to go to at least a dozen to see if I can get any leads on this guy.”

Ben nods once.

“Why?”

Why does he care?

“No reason. I’ll see you later Petals.” Ben smirks when he uses the nickname again, before turns once more and vanishes into the foliage that leads to the front of the shop. It was very difficult not to make the closet branch smack him in the back of the head as he did so. You hated that nickname about as much as he hated Gramps, but you knew that asking him not to call you that wouldn't do any good.

You make your way to the register at the back of the shop, feeling like you could finally breathe again. You hated how Ben wound you up so much, how angry and annoyed he made you. You hadn't met anyone else in your life that could do that to you and you liked to think that you were an easy going person, but not around him. He always knew exactly how to push all your buttons.

The memory of him pinning you to the counter earlier surfaces from the events of the morning, how his body seemed so strong above you, how he seemed to curve it protectively around you as he stood there waiting for you to tell him that it was okay for him to take the next step. The kiss from last night follows, how wonderful it was to lose yourself in him, how he tasted just a little bit like whiskey-

The hibiscus plant to the right of the register poofs into bloom, the bright red flowers unfurling and shining like beacons.

Shit. No. Get it together. Ben literally just said that he didn't think that emotions were important.

You glare at the plant until the flowers wilt back into submission, hoping that Jake couldn't see from where he was watering the hydrangeas.

That's the last conversation that you wanted to have today with your boss.

The coffee he got you is just how you like it and you’re reminded again that you deserve a relationship like that. Someone who remembers the little things, someone who cared about you, someone who was willing to hold your hair back when you threw up, not someone who annoyed you without end and the only emotions he ever expressed was anger or arousal.

“Your friend leave?” Jake asks. His clothes were flecked with water, hands just a little dirty, hair tousled just the right way to make him look like he'd just woken up.

It hit you again how different he was than Ben. Where Ben was ruggedly handsome, Jake was boyishly handsome and he had a younger less angry quality that made him seem lighter. You supposed that was because Ben had spent the last forty years in a Russian lab, but sometimes you liked that about him, not that he had been tortured obviously, but that he seemed real. He didn’t sugar coat things, he told it to you straight. Sometimes Jake was too happy.

No no no. I am not going to compare Ben to Jake, that's not going to happen.

“He’s not really my friend. He’s more of an annoyance.” You smile tightly, flicking your thumb against the cardboard coffee collar on the outside of the cup.

“Oh. I kinda thought he was your boyfriend.”

You spit out the coffee in your mouth. “What?”

“Well the way he was looking at you. And the way you guys were talking." Jake clears his throat embarrassed. "Sorry I didn't mean to assume that."

"It's alright. I'm sorry that he was rude to you. He's rude to everyone honestly."

It was the truth, Ben was always rude to everyone, though you didn't understand why he was rude to Jake. All Jake had done was try to shake his hand.

"How did you meet him?"

"Butcher."

Jake didn't know much about what you did for Butcher, only that you had another job on the side and he was your boss. Butcher had picked you up once from work to go on a case and Jake had caught a glimpse of him and had been confused as to why you knew someone like him.

"Ah." David nods in understanding. "He looks like Butcher's kind of guy."

"Yeah." You take another sip of coffee, shifting from foot to foot. "Thanks again for the coffee. I kinda needed it to deal with him."

"He was bothering you?"

"Only a little." You wave your free hand as if brushing away the thought.

"You should have said something, I could have thrown him out of the shop." Jake grins wide, leaning against the register.

The image of Jake trying to drag Ben out of the store was ridiculous. You doubted that Ben would go willingly, he hated backing down and you suspected that he would rather die than let another man throw him around. And the last thing you wanted to do was have to pull Ben off of Jake.

"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle. He's more bark than bite." You walk around the back of the desk to look at a box of lavender plants. They were in relatively good shape, a few brown spots, but nothing you couldn't fix when David wasn't looking.

"Sure." He is still leaning on the counter watching your fingertips stroke along the purple flowers. "Hey y/n?"

"Mhmm?" You sigh, inhaling the soothing smell.

"Um-" He bites the inside of his cheek. "Never mind. I'm gonna go start the Christmas Cactus display."

"Okay. I'll be in the back if you need me." You shrug, picking up the coffee Jake bought you and walking through the dark curtains that covered the doorway that lead into the back of the shop.

Your thoughts shift to how Ben acted around Jake, how he seemed to be an even bigger jerk, how Ben seemed to hate the idea of you and Jake together, and how Ben kept watching Jake like he wasn't sure about him.

Was he… jealous?

You gently touch the browning leaf of an African violet, feeling the fuzzy outer covering beneath your fingertip.

As if.

And as you stood there gazing at the plants that needed a little extra care, something else began to stir, something that you couldn't put your finger on, something that you felt when you were only around Ben, but you shake it off and clear your mind with the earthy smell of soil and the soft green leaves that needed your care.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

“I can’t believe you let Soldier Boy sleep on your couch!” Annie exclaims before taking a bite of her sesame seed bagel.

The coffee shop was crowded for a Thursday afternoon, and although most came to Calamity Coffee Co for the Rocky Top frozen choco-molten mocha swirl , Annie had settled for a oat milk latte and watched you eat your Rocky Top with a spoon. It was making you feel better after the night you'd had.

 People sat with their laptops along the long table that lined the front windows writing emails or the next Hunger Games, others lounged on the purple velvet sofa and high backed green armchairs by the decorative fire place chatting about a new movie in theaters that you'd seen a commercial for, and a man and a woman sat at the glass topped wrought iron table looking at their phones and not speaking.

I love what romance has come to these days.

“It was a moment of weakness.” You spoon another bite of the chocolatey frozen treat into your mouth still trying to forget exactly what happened last night when Ben kissed you in the hallway.

As if you were going to tell her that.

The rest of your shift at the shop had been uneventful. You fixed up most of the plants in the back and helped Jake make the new displays of cactus in the front while making small talk. He was going to a plant show this weekend and had invited you along, but you had declined, told him you had to work.

You did. Butcher had this crazy idea about sending you to different auto shops around the area where the supe had been jacking cars, to see if anyone knew anything about him.

It was getting harder to track him down, it would be easier if y'all could put a name to the face, but no one had seen him. Not even when he tried to fry you two days ago. He always wore a hoodie and pulled a dark scarf over the bottom of his face.

“So you did sleep with him!” Annie accuses.

“No I didn’t. He just slept on the couch and I slept with my door locked.” You reply, touching the vase of wildflowers in the center of the table to perk up the colorful blooms.

Annie's smile drops. “You thought he would try something?” It was something that she didn't joke about and she had reason not to.

When you found out what the Deep had done to her, she had to hold you back from marching up to Vought tower and implanting a watermelon in the Deep's stomach until he exploded. Something that you'd thought about trying with Ben when he really annoyed you.

“No not really.” You press your lips together. “Ben doesn’t really seem the type-“

“Oh so it’s Ben now.” She flutters her eyelashes and you kick her shin under the table.

“Shut up. It’s his name-“

“You never called him that before! You always just call him Gramps or the Bane of your existence.”

“He is the bane of my existence." You roll your eyes at her, leaning back in your chair. 

He really is.

“Well the bane of your existence is kind of hot. You know for an older guy.” Annie shrugs.

“I can’t believe you’re saying that. You literally were gung ho for locking him away for all eternity or whatever.”

“I mean yeah he’s done some shitty things.” She takes a sip of her almond milk latte. “But it would have been a waste.”

She’s not lying.

You don't answer her, instead your mind shifts to how good Ben looked in a towel this morning, slightly damp from his shower. And then inevitably begins to dip back into the waterfall fantasy.

When Annie had told you that Soldier Boy was back, you had done the research, watched his movies, commercials, and music videos, read his file, and gazed at older pictures of him. Yes he was handsome, but something about the Ben who existed in the 21st century was better looking than all the rest. You didn't know why, just that you were crazy not to admit how good looking he was.

Maybe I've got issues and I'm attracted to the wrong type of man.

“Come on so you locked your door.” Annie nudges your leg under the table.

“Yep.” You avoid her eyes, because you knew as soon as you did you might let it fly that you wanted to sleep with him or rather that he'd kissed you so hard that you'd seen stars and it had only lasted eleven seconds.

Why do I know how long the kiss lasted?

“Why are you making that face?”

“This is my face Annie.”

“No no no. You’re making your suffer in silence face!”

“That’s not a thing.”

“What? Did you lock your door so you wouldn’t go out there?” She jokes with a snort.

You take another sip of your coffee.

“HOLY SHIT Y/N!” Annie's smile is almost too wide, as if she's discovered a new kind of chocolate that you can eat and never gain any weight.

I'd invest in that.

“What?”

“You wanted to sleep with him!”

She shouts it so loud that the people staring at their phones glance over to the two of you. Even a few of the writers on the long table under the window look back over their shoulders at you.

“Keep your voice down." You shush her. "Just because my body wants to doesn’t mean my mind does!”

It does. Who am I kidding?

“Uh-huh sure.”

You slump further in your chair, avoiding the gaze of the couples at the other tables looking at you. “Annie come on. You’ve known me since we were four.  You almost blinded me when I took away your my little pony doll-“

She purses her lips. “I recall you making a tree rain acorns down on my head.”

“It was my doll.”

“It was mine! And I said that I wanted it back. You didn't have to have a tree do a reenactment of the ten plagues garden edition."

You hold up your hands in surrender not wanting to get into this fight again. “Whatever the case. You know me. You know that I always think stuff like this through-“

“Maybe you’re just thinking too much.” She sing songs.

“I can’t believe you’re for this. I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“Why not? You obviously want to.” Annie shrugs. "I mean I guess I'm not his number one fan, but maybe it will help get you out of a slump."

"What slump?"

"You haven't really been with a guy since Newton-" Annie begins to say, referencing your ex-boyfriend that you locked in a tree in high school. Because he deserved it.

"Because I never meet anyone that I'd want to sleep with. And yeah maybe I want to sleep with Ben, but he really just pushes my buttons and makes me crazy and-" You stop for a second considering your next words. “I don’t want that kind of relationship with someone. I want a relationship that means something. And I don’t think that sleeping with him is going to do that for me. He doesn’t want more than one night and I’m worth more and I want more.”

"You are worth more sweetie." Annie's hand covers yours where it rests on the table. "You just need to find someone who understands that."

"The only other single man in my life is Butcher and trust me I'm not going down that road." You bite the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. "I mean he is pretty hot in a rugged sort of way-"

"No." Annie squeezes your hand. "If God put me in your life to prevent you from dating William Fucking Butcher then so be it."

"Fine." You roll your eyes at her.

"And what are you talking about? What about Jake? He's cute and he likes you."

"He does not. We're just friends. And I don't know if I want to drag him into all this supe shit. It's not exactly easy."

Being with Jake will just complicate everything. He's my boss and he's not a supe. What if I accidentally killed him during sex? I don't think that I'd ever be able to get over that.

"Yeah. But maybe he'd be okay with it-"

"Like Newton was okay with it?" You raise an eyebrow, saying the name of your high school boyfriend for the first time since you'd locked him in a tree.

"He was an asshole. Not all non-supes are assholes."

"Just because you struck gold with Hughie does not mean that all non-supes are like that."

"You just have to broaden your horizons a little bit. Maybe you could try online dating."

"What like Tinder?"

"Fuck no." Annie groans. She raises the sesame seed bagel with a perfectly manicured hand to her mouth, reminding you that you probably should get your nails done. You hadn't done them since high school, because sometimes you thought it was a waste of money given how much time you spent with your hands thrust into potting soil.

"Because Ben seems to really  like it. Has no problems working that app, I'll tell you that." You roll your eyes thinking about him again.

It was one of the first apps that he had downloaded on his phone by himself and one that he did not have any trouble navigating, given the parade of women that came through Butcher's apartment and the amount of nights Ben spent going on "dates." For a guy born so long ago, you noticed that he really didn't have any old fashioned values.

"You sure are focused on him."

"I am not." You glance down at your phone noting the time. "And are you going to spend our date mocking me about Ben the whole time?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re going to fuck him or not.”

“I’m not so let’s move on.” You sigh loudly, moving your hand as if ushering in the next topic.

“Well if things don’t work out with Mr. Blast From The Past, then you can always date Mike.” She sniggers.

“Oh I don’t think he’s going to be a problem-“ It slips before you meant it to.

Shit.

“What do you mean?” Annie perks up when you say that.

“Nothing.”

She punches you hard on the shoulder.

“Ow. Annie-“

“Tell me!” She punches you again.

“What are you the mob? You’re gonna keep punching me til I tell you?”

“Exactly.” Her small fist hits your shoulder one more time.

“Fine!” You avoid her next swing. “Mike came out of his apartment last night when Ben and I got in and Ben he-“ You bite the inside of your cheek to try and phrase it in a way that isn’t going to make Annie freak out.

Yeah there’s really no easy way to say this.

“He pretended to be my boyfriend.”

“He what?” Annie squeals.

“And he kissed me.” You mutter into your drink.

“He kissed you!?”

“Say it a little louder, I don’t think they heard you in Canada.”

She punches your shoulder.

“Ow, Annie! I told you what happened!” You rub your hand over your sore shoulder, which given Annie's enhanced strength was sure to have a bruise.

“That was for not mentioning it earlier! Because What the fuck?! You KISSED!?” You could practically see Annie mentally kicking her feet and giggling.

“Yes.”

“Was it good?!”

You pause. Fuck yeah it was.

You were trying to forget that. Forget how he held you, like you weren’t close enough, forget how he deepened the kiss as if he wanted to swallow you whole, forget how everything else in the world seemed to fade into shades of gray and kissing him was the only thing in color.

Damn it. This isn't going to end well.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

A/N: Honestly thank you for all the love and support on this series. I know it's kinda slow going at the beginning, but I promise I have a plan for this one! :)

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd liked to be added to the Taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

[overly-distressed-mouse]

Okay I'm now home from watching the Barbie movie, so I have to bestow some knowledge upon you fuckers (aka me infodumping actual Barbie lore because there were a lot of references there).

So, first and foremost, in one scene, we see "Earring Ken" and "Growing up Skipper" (very short scene, don't worry if you missed it). But these were actual Barbie dolls released by Mattel way back whenever (See pictures below)

So, "Earring Ken" was actually "Earring Magic Ken". His whole thing was Mattel wanted to be cool and hip with the kids or whatever, so they created him. Except their idea of going out and finding inspiration and information as to what was "hip with the kids", was gay bars. And raves. As you can imagine, Earring Magic Ken did not stay on shelves too long (about 6 months) (though he did sell actually really well and I believe is still one of their most sold despite only being available for such a short time). I'm pretty sure his necklace charm could be swapped out too and also worn as actual earrings. HOWEVER, the part about Earring Magic Ken that kills me, is that because they went to gay bars, not only did they give him a mesh shirt and shit (as seen above), but the charm on his necklace? Is a cock ring. Did Mattel realize this? Probably the fuck not, but that's what it was💕

Growing up Skipper was also an actual doll, and just like in the movie, if you twisted her arm, she grew boobs. She also grew like an inch taller or something. I'm pretty sure she also was not on the shelf long, but she was introduced in the 1970s. So that's fun

Next up, Midge and Allan (who both play slightly bigger roles in the film but here's pictures anyways)

So Midge was Barbie's best friend, and was released specifically because Mattel found themselves faced with high demand for a pregnant Barbie doll. But of course, Barbie can never get married or be pregnant or have kids, because it ages her, and obviously seeming a little older means Barbie is suddenly worthless and unappealing (Woo patriarchy!). So their solution was Midge, who, ironically, ended up being everything Barbie couldn't (which is kind of funny since she's supposed to be able to be any and everything ever). So, them making her only personality trait in the movie her pregnancy, is kind of spot on. She did have actual dolls initially but then seemed to disappear for a while, having been replaced with other "Barbie's best friend!"'s. Actually they also replaced Barbie's siblings several times but that's another post. Midge did eventually return though in Life in the Dreamhouse (See below)

One thing they never mentioned in the movie, however, is that Allan was actually Midge's boyfriend. I don't have too much on him besides that but I think it's worth mentioning.

Anywho, there's my rant on some of the characters in the Barbie movie, if you made it this far, thanks :))

[rottiens]

✫ AUGURIO┊ You hear him before you feel him, like the flash of lightning that warns of the arrival of a furious thunderclap. His deep voice breaks the silence and it seems that everything, even the dust particles stop for an instant.

word count. 13K

tags. (18+) — explicit content. maid!reader, reader with female anatomy (she/her), toji calls the reader kid/kiddo several times (sorry, can't stop using it), toji is a gentleman (not really) (he tries to be, I swear), toji canonical story, age gap (reader is 25+, toji is in his mid 30s), cw violence, reader is/was harassed by the Zenin clan, reader has family trauma (ofc), references to Christian religion, slow burn, soft toji, angsty, mutual masturbation, dirty talk.

notes. i love toji but i had never written anything official for him, at least something not so long. i didn't expect to write so much, in fact the first scene i started it with the idea of making a drabble but... oops. i got carried away (i love him sm), i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did because despite being long i enjoyed writing every scene heh. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✫ title inspired by the song augurio by rosalía. read on ao3.

You hear him before you feel him, like the flash of lightning that warns of the arrival of a furious thunderclap. His deep voice breaks the silence and it seems that everything, even the dust particles stop for an instant.

Your body jerks at being taken by surprise, shivers run down your lower back and stop behind the back of your neck, ruffling the hair in that area. Afraid to turn around you remain static for a long second, thinking that maybe that way he would go away and ignore your presence, though to your misfortune that never happened.

"Are you deaf or something?" he asks reluctantly. 

You imagine him scratching the back of his neck as he says that, you wonder if he still has that habit.

"I'm fine," you say dryly, answering that and his previous question which had been 'Do you need help?' — Your hands are still frozen, stretched above your head with the edge of the heavy box barely touching your fingertips, pressing down.

Toji growls and ignoring your clear disinterest in his help, he takes a few short steps forward which send alerts to your head, putting you in a run or fight state. His footsteps are long and firm warning you that someone heavy is coming, and they stop right behind you where you can clearly feel the heat of his body burning through your clothes, the only sign that tells you along with a growl that he really was there and that this was not a figment of your vivid imagination.

Toji stretches his arms above your body taking advantage of his height to grab the box you are struggling so hard to reach and easily pulls it down from the cabinet, dropping it to the floor and the various cursed weapons inside slam against each other.

You don't know what to do or say, but you especially don't know what he wants. After having helped you against your will, in a task you were sure you could have completed alone, Toji adds nothing more. There is no sound, complaint or comment to let you know he is still there.

If it weren't for the warmth of his body you couldn't be sure there was another person next to you in that room. Toji, without his cursed energy to give him away was far worse than a ghost, there was no trace that he existed or ever existed unless you looked him in the face and made sure he was really there.

And after thinking about it and soaking in an awkward silence, you think you guess what he wants from you.

"Hm. Thank you." Though your words bounce off the walls with some degree of insecurity, you think you have pleased him, that he was looking for perhaps a bit of your gratitude, yet he says nothing until after an extended silence.

"Turn around."

You're used to following orders. "Pick that up." "Clean that up." "Shut your mouth." So the command doesn't surprise you; what does, instead, is who the words come from.

Toji Zenin left the clan years ago. Never officially, just one day you woke up and he wasn't there, there was one less dish to put on the table, there were fewer orders to follow and the same thing happened the next day and the next.

No one ever heard from him again, all you knew was from the rumors you heard from your masters. That the man had left the country, that he was now working for the mafia, that they found his body dumped in a dirty alley in Okinawa, so having him here, coming back to order you around as if he returned to the clan after so long fills you with uncertainty.

However you do it, you turn on your heels without making a single noise; credit to the years you have had to learn to be silent and go unnoticed all so as not to disturb and inconvenience the people you serve. You are in front of him and the first thing that strikes you is the sight of his chest, unlike how he used to dress when he lived here he wears a blue striped kimono which makes him look more formal and adult, which however baggy it is, shows how changed his body is now: more mature and bigger.

You raise your head a few inches to find his serious face staring back at you, his longer, somewhat disheveled hair partially covering his gaze and those blue eyes are as expressionless as ever.

You've never seen the scar on his lip so close, the memories of that day make you shudder but you swallow them in your throat like a hard pain pill.

You take the hem of your dress and raise the corners at the same time as you bend your knees in reverence, all this without moving too much because an unplanned movement would lead you straight to touch him.

"Sir. You’re back." You greet him, keeping a neutral tone in your voice. "Welcome home." It's the kindness you're forced to give to every single member of the clan, even if they're defectors who return without explanation. You were no one to ask questions, so you're left only to accept silently.

"I remember you," Toji says, maintaining eye contact. Confused, you frown and allow him to elaborate. "You were that girl."

There have been many girls, sir. That's what you want to say but you bite your tongue. Many of them ran away, many are gone and many were not strong enough to withstand the mistreatment. 

"I'm afraid you're wrong..." 

"Nah." Toji interrupts you by clicking his tongue, then he reaches out and seeing you squirm at the action, the attempt at a wicked smile peeks out of the corners of his mouth. "Easy there." His words accompany his thumb that lands on top of your eyebrow, caressing a small scar that you normally forget is there. His touch is rough, his skin is calloused, but the way he approaches you doesn't feel violent to you so you allow him to carve the skin some more. "You're that girl..., my cousin threw that crystal glass in your face."

His words trigger wild and violent memories that force you to turn your face away from him, Toji's hand hovering in the air as he slowly returns it to the sides of his legs. It was your first week serving the Zenin clan, you were around fifteen when your family sold you in exchange for your servitude. Painful memories come back to you, you remember how you fought, how you spat curses in front of the Zenin family and the more rebellious you were the worse they treated you, the scar on your eyebrow is just one of many.

You look at him again, unable to contain the rage that injects itself into your veins and ends up in your hands making you clench your fists tightly.

"I had wondered where all that anger had gone." Toji looks you up and down. "I guess it was just asleep."

"I have to take that box to the training room, I've already taken too long," you say, giving the box a sidelong glance.

All that anger you had swallowed until you became the good servant they wanted. That reduced the mistreatment, the yelling, the hitting, it served to make your stay here a less torturous one but seeing Toji back in front of you, with his inappropriate comments made that trunk full of pent up emotions open up.

Toji was the only one who treated you like another person. The only one who respected you and said Please and Thank you. The only one who stopped his cousin when he was not satisfied with the glass he had blown on your forehead, he took a glass to pounce on you, getting Toji a scar on his face that he shares with you.

He suffered almost the same fate as yours, only his family never sold him, on the contrary, they decided to keep him and use him as a pet to abuse and make fun of, until one day it stopped, until one day Toji never showed his face in his clan again until now.

You hated it.

You hated the fact that he could be free.

"So they finally broke you," Toji adds before you leave, just as your foot pushes on the door to help you open it.

"Why did you come back?" You ask without turning to look at him. 

"I stopped by to borrow a couple of tools," he says with a teasing tone. 

"Are you going to leave again?"

"Yes," he replies flatly. "Are you going to tell them I was here?"

Your fingers squeeze the box full of heavy weapons and you have to push it up closer to your chest so it doesn't slip.

"Have a good trip." That's all you say before you leave and venture out into the hallway.

The warm sun streams through the glass windows, dusk a few minutes away. Your feet grow heavier, you drag them under the floor, your fingers dig hard into the cardboard— You were jealous, irritated that Toji was lucky enough to come and go as he pleased, that no one knew when he was in or when he was leaving, that no one could guess what his next move was going to be. You envied his freedom.

The door to the training room bedroom hits the wall thanks to your kick, causing the three men in the center to scowl at you. The brunette one rushes at you to snatch the box from your hands, whispering a mumbled "Useless" that has your fingers clenching tighter.

"You may leave." Orders the older of them, but you don't move.

It was the first time you saw his face. He was a man of short stature and gray hair, he had wrinkles on his forehead, cheeks and neck and a long beard that reached to his collarbone. The other two were at least your age, you knew them well, they grew up with you but you had always been hidden under your fear that you never looked up beyond their bare feet or their shoes and now that you were soaking in their features and age difference, the idea that you could fight him for your freedom and beat him flashed in front of you.

"I-"

"Are you deaf? Leave the room."

The white-haired man walks towards you with the katana in one hand, his whole countenance indicating danger. His cursed energy spills all over the place making you feel insignificant. You have never taken a weapon in your hands before other than to clean them, you never fought, you didn't know what your limits or your strengths were but right now you are so high from the adrenaline rush buzzing in your bloodstream that you are sure you can stand up to him.

The old man stops in front of you with the tip of the sword grazing your throat.

"What will be one less maid?" He says and his apprentices laugh at a cruel and unfunny joke. 

You laugh with them, filled with a numbing peace. The old man pushes the tip closer, breaking the skin, tearing flesh and the warm liquid spills down your neck staining your white uniform and the pain makes you smile even more. You want to run away but your knees tremble, your feet don't respond. You have never been so close to freedom before so you succumb to that desire closing your eyelids and waiting with your arms at the end of your destiny, when the old man pushes the blade of the sword a little more there is not even pain, only euphoria for tasting the freedom you have longed for so much.

"Hey." Your eyes snap open and turn shakily to God's voice coming from the hallway. He's leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and you hadn't realized you were crying until the salty taste numbs your tongue. "What are you guys doing?" He casually asks the men, though in reality his eyes are on you.

Your breathing becomes a whirlwind as you see him enter the room, you can't feel him, so it's as if it's all part of a vivid dream or a horrible nightmare. 

"Oh, look who's back!" Laughs one man.

"You're not welcome here," the other shouts as he spits on the floor and Toji moves into the space as if he owns the place. 

In the blink of an eye he knocks out the brown-haired man and leaves him spitting blood on the floor, then he pounces on the green-eyed blond and after an exchange of punches breaks his neck and drops his body on the floor with a crack of the wood that receives his body with a soft bounce.

Then he turns to the old man who, moving the katana away from you, wields it in Toji's direction. Without being able to blink you appreciate the difference in power between the men: between Toji, the younger ones and the old man, the latter being the one who gives Toji the most fight to defeat but after a while Toji leaves him lying on the ground, holding the wound that he had given the old man in the abdomen with his same sword.

When Toji approaches you you can't speak. 

“Are you all right?" He questions you but you can't stop shaking. Toji tears a piece of cloth from his kimono to tie it around your neck to stop the bleeding, the piece of cloth despite getting soaked right away manages to do its job successfully. "It's not going to help much. But it should hold until you can put something better on.” Then he adds, "Good luck."

And how if he never came, he leaves the room at a slow pace, leaving you with a massacre in front of you, blood under your feet, on your neck and staining the carpet.

And in the midst of the mist that was your life at that moment, a ray of light illuminated it, giving you the answer. He was your Savior.

Still in a state of stupor you put your hand to your neck and the feeling that you are in the present and in real life returns little by little, the wound starts to hurt, it hurts to swallow, it hurts to open and close your jaw. You leave the room holding your throat, looking for the trace of the man who had played the hero without knowing what you would do after having him in front of you.

"Zenin!" you shout, but your voice is barely more than a whisper and his huge body had crossed the hallway and turned right.

You move in his direction, you run shortening the distance and joining your destinies. You find him again a little closer to the gate, where to your surprise there were no guards guarding the entrance. The gigantic doors of the entrance to the Clan were wide open, unlike how you had imagined so many times in your dreams, savoring your escape, there was no wind, no noise, on the contrary. There was a silence in the scene that was almost uncomfortable, something different from how you had imagined the scene would be when escaping from your hell.

Toji's loud footsteps on the stones is all you can hear.

"Zenin!" you shout again, reminding your feet that they should keep moving forward.

Thanks to the quietness of the scene, Toji manages to hear you, turning to face you.

"Don't follow me," he warns. And you decide to ignore him completely, taking another unsure step forward as your body lurches slightly forward.

"You saved me." 

He scratches the back of his neck, indifferent to your words. "And I would have let you die there if I'd known you'd become a nuisance."

His cruel words provoke nothing in you, create no emotion in you. You don't stop, you don't stop looking at him as you feel the scar open up more each time you speak.

"But you didn't. Let me come with you." "That won't work. Go back inside." 

"Zenin, please."

Toji looked like an angel. The colors around him blended into a beautiful watercolor of whites and shades of green. Around him gave off a heavenly aura, it was the first time you could see his cursed energy and it was beautiful, a smile full of hope is drawn on your face.

"I go by Fushiguro now."

It's the last thing you hear, your fingers reach out to touch him but your hand is suspended in the air, held in time and it's all you remember before Toji turns his back on you and walks away from you and everything around you shatters. The bright lights go out, your knees falter and a cold annoying sweat settles on your palms and the back of your neck.

You can't see anything when your body hits the ground, everything is dark but you can feel it. The floor is neither warm nor safe, so Toji must have held you once more before you collapsed on the stones.

— / / / 

When you wake up it takes you a couple of extra minutes to open your eyes. Your whole body feels heavy like never before, you were used to physical labor but now it felt like you would collapse if you tried to stand up. The second thing you notice is that it is cold, but your body is warm so you drag your eyes until you notice the warm crimson red blanket tucking your body in a delicate way, it is at that moment that your eyes venture further to check where you are.

It was a room, you were in a bed that could hold at least two adults. With a soft blanket over you and a dim light coming from the left side. 

"You're awake." You are startled by the voice coming from the right, your heart flutters at the stranger whom it doesn't take you long to recognize. His appearance had now changed, he has his wet hair slicked back giving you a glimpse of his forehead. He had also changed his clothes, now wearing a black sweater that matches his pants of the same color. Toji is sitting on the edge of the bed staring at you, holding his jaw in a fist as his lips form an involuntary half pout. "You need to leave." Then he says, taking you by surprise.

Your mouth opens but only a whimper of pain comes out of it, your fingers search for your wound but you stumble over a bandage that you assume he had placed while you slept and suddenly you were very aware of it, of its texture against your skin and how tightly it squeezed your neck, so much so that it was hard for you to swallow.

You look at him with wide eyes and he clicks his tongue.

"You didn't lose much blood but I did what I could." You tilt your face in his direction, close your eyes briefly trying to ignore the pain. "Don't talk for now. You were sleeping all day but I need you to get out of here tomorrow, you'll be well enough in the morning."

Your eyes expand at the statement, you try to speak, create sentences, but your throat hurts and you have no choice but to be silent as you stir in the sheets and watch him stand up without you being able to interfere, stretching his back and arms until his muscles groan and thunder in a grunt of exhaustion vibrates his throat.

Ignoring your gaze that begs for him to stay a little longer, Toji leaves the room, turning on a night light next to the bedside table. Soon the floor is illuminated with a navy blue halo that runs along the bottom of the wall and you realize you are alone again as soon as you hear the door close with a soft knock. 

You are alone again. It's the thought that comes back into your head and rumbles against your skull. Of course this wasn't like when you were at the Zenin's house and were forced to sleep with other servants in a room smaller than this one, but even though the lighting gives you some peace of mind the darkness clings to your skin in a terrifying way. You are ten years old again when you believed there were monsters under your bed except this time you knew they were real but they were not fantasies, they were flesh and blood men who would probably be looking for you as they blamed you for slaughtering their men, even though they made sure you never had the strength to do it.

Suddenly it is all too much. The bandage on your neck seems to have hands and steals your oxygen squeezing against your throat, your lungs expand but don't bring air back with them and the light coming in from the street through the glass window gives way to shadows that form sinister figures on the wood of the floor. You bring your trembling fingers to your face and cover your eyes, your ears ringing from the blood that suddenly starts pumping your body uncontrollably, all this frenzy of panic drives you to push the blanket away from your body and makes you put your feet on the floor.

You're grateful to be on solid ground, to have something real under your feet. Crawling you flip the switch on and then fling open the door to face reality. 

Outside you become a little more familiar with the place you are in. Your eyes quickly scanning the place you realize you are in an apartment, one that carries the same vibes of the room you came from (a wooden floor covered in a rare carpet, walls with minimalist decor and by minimalist you mean non-existent), there is a murmur coming from somewhere so you lean your face forward letting yourself be guided by the muffled conversation.

Your path is lit by the dull light of a lamp that is not bright enough to illuminate the whole room, and not to mention the conversation going on somewhere in the apartment which doesn't seem to fit the scene, everything is so quiet that you can hear your own heart pumping, it doesn't seem like Toji left you behind just a couple of minutes ago, it seems as if he has disappeared, as if he has never been there and this was all a nightmare.

You walk cautiously around the apartment, taking an overview of something you could take to defend yourself in case you need it. Near the couch you find an empty beer bottle and grab it from the tip in the direction away from your body, as if it were a baseball bat.

You are afraid to call his name and there is someone else lurking among the darkness. Questions such as, did someone come in and hurt Toji and then come for you are formulated one after another in your head, creating a dozen scenarios in which you could die at the hand of a clan member tonight. 

Your ears guide you to a room in the background where you hear murmuring that is muffled by the noise of a television that as you step closer becomes clearer. Light escapes through a crack in a half-open door, you wet your lips before continuing and with your bare feet you push open the door, still holding the bottle and ready to strike.

"I can't have another person here!" 

"She’ll be gone in the morning!"

The pair of men who seemed to be carrying on an angry conversation fall silent at the groan of the door. Eyes fall on you and how ridiculous you must look with a bottle as a weapon that would be useless if they really wanted to attack you. One of them is Toji, you recognize him instantly. The other is wearing a brown suit and has a lit cigarette trapped between his fingers, the same build (maybe a little thinner) and height as Toji.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Toji scolds you wrinkling his nose, paying little attention to his friend who seems to be mentally choking him.

"Fear," you reply hoarsely.

Toji exchanges glances with the man and then turns back to you with a sigh. His footsteps go in your direction and you cling to the bottle raising it higher in a trembling grip, ready to throw it if necessary, however, Toji disarms you in a matter of seconds, your fingers remaining raised at his chest as you blink in humiliation.

In a second Toji takes your body and throws it over his shoulders along with a grunt as if it were a simple sack of potatoes, and walks with you all the way you had to walk towards him back to the room where he told you to stay.

He closes the door behind you with one foot and drops your body unkindly onto the mattress which bounces gently with your weight.

"Just tell me if you want to go out on the street tonight and I'll carry you myself and throw you out." You stare at him silently with deer eyes, your heart pounding with the same intensity as one and wishing you could be recovered so you could talk and explain to him everything that's going through your head. Faced with your state he sighs, brushing a couple of wild locks from his face, and sits back down where he was before, on the edge of the mattress. "Listen, kid, don't get us both kicked out. Just be good, okay?" 

You nod and realize his intentions as he is ready to leave as soon as he finishes speaking, but your hand comes forward and you stop him by clinging to his forearm.

"Stay," you beg. He shakes his head, turning away from your eyes. "Fear. Please."

There is desperation in your words, pain comes out of them followed by despair at not being able to speak as you normally would and advocate for your situation. Toji sighs resignedly and stands up to remove his shoes, then grabs the material of his sweater and pulls it off until his chest is exposed. Even with the little help from the light and battling the shadows you soak in his naked body, how worked his torso is and the few scars that the bluish hue of the lights reveal.

"Move aside," Toji says reluctantly and without complaint you do so, while burning with shame inside.

As soon as he settles in as best he can, you pull the covers back to cover you both. Toji holds his head with one hand and lets the other rest on his chest, you can't help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Man. Who?" you ask, seeking to hear him speak once more as Toji's voice brought you assurance.

"A friend." Toji responds dryly and reluctantly. You try to move closer to his warmth but he whines again, making the sound of a non-domestic animal. "No snuggling. Stay on your side." 

After a while where no one says anything else and where you can't fall asleep because if you do you are sure you will wake up there again, inside those four walls, you mumble a, "Thank you." To which Toji doesn't respond.

At some point you could no longer fight against the exhausting sleep or the heaviness of your muscles and ended up losing the battle of the watch. Light particles get trapped in your eyelashes which makes you blink rapidly welcoming a new day. The first thing you notice is how dry your throat is, the second is a pair of strong arms holding you prisoner, adrenaline shoots through your body before you can process what was happening.

Memories come flashing back to you. You remember what had happened a couple of hours ago and remember Toji telling you to stay on the side of the bed, which you did! Yet somehow your bodies end up entangled with each other, his arms holding you very close to him preventing you from escaping. His grip is strong, he encircles your waist and holds you close to his chest, one hand on your abdomen and the other near your collarbones and chest, his lower body is very close to you, so much so that as soon as you realize you can feel how hard he is a hot steam starts on your cheeks and spreads all over your face. 

You take a deep breath, then swallow saliva in a poor quest to hydrate your throat. Your fingers tap his arm near your neck.

"Zenin." You call out to him, something louder than a whisper, saying his name for some reason makes you feel warmer inside. "Toji?" you repeat his name and his face descends to your neck, his hot breath stumbles against your ear and a heavy sigh catches in your throat.

Toji lies there breathing, in a kind of trance that prevents him from waking up and his hand which was lying on your collarbone goes up to your neck where it takes hold of your throat and gently exerts pressure. You call his name again moaning from the pain, he grunts.

"What?" You never thought he could sound more morose than he already was, but apparently you were wrong. Morning Toji was a different being.

"No snuggling." You remind him with your eyes wide open, there was no way you could be asleep in the situation you were in. "You said." Your voice is still hurting, you sound hoarse. 

"I said you couldn't cuddle me," Toji protests, clinging tighter to your body. "I didn't say anything about me not being able to." As soon as he finishes speaking his face scrunches against the side of your throat and the strands of his hair tickle you, your shoulders shrug instinctively and he laughs as your abdomen tightens. "How did you sleep?" he asks, still with his face hidden. 

"Better." 

"Good." That's all he says before suddenly walking away from you. You don't move from your spot, your eyes fixed on the rocking chair in the corner that keeps a teddy bear on it, your heart beating a mile a minute as you listen to him wander into the room behind you. "I was serious when I said you had to go." He reminds you, which causes you to sit up in bed slowly creating a misshapen arch with your back.

"I have nowhere to go." Your voice sounds broken, but you can form longer sentences than yesterday without feeling like the wound is going to open at any moment.

Toji already knows and probably doesn't care, he took a lot of trouble getting you out of that prison so now you were on your own. But the idea of surviving on your own in a world you barely had any knowledge of is terrifying, all you've worried about for years is that the food wouldn't get cold before it reached the table and indulging the whims of each of the clan members.

An idea suddenly strikes you, a light bulb would appear above your head if it were in a cartoon. "I can cook," you say, just as Toji is walking in the direction of the exit.

"We don't need a maid."

His words hit you with a stark reality check. Being a servant is all you knew how to do, if you no longer had someone to serve, then what was your purpose?

The door opens and you dart out of bed straight to Toji's feet, your arms do a bear hug around one of his legs and you look up at him from below with messy hair and pleading eyes. 

"Please."

He groans, squeezing his eyes with his fingers, clearly frustrated with the situation, those same fingers cling to your forearms and help you to your feet. 

"I don't want to see you on your knees begging anyone ever again, you are free now." With that, he drags you out of the room and your feet can barely keep up with his strength, in the same hallway you walked down earlier you see the man in the same suit from last night eating something in the kitchen and waving at you, a greeting you would return if you weren't too busy.

Toji stops in front of a door and with an open palm pushes it open to reveal a bathroom.

"Wait here." He leaves you in the middle of the small bathroom, as you stare confusedly at the tiles. Toji soon returns with things in his hand which he pushes into your chest and you are forced to hold them so you don't drop them. "Get changed and take a shower, we don't have warm water." That's all he says to then turn his back on you and leave you to your fate.

At the edge of the bathtub there were only two things: a three-in-one shampoo with a white label and a mint essence liquid soap and after checking what you had in your hands you realized that they were Toji's things: A purple t-shirt with the name of some brand on the chest that you were sure you were going to outgrow and some dark shorts along with a pair of boxers of the same shade, this was way more than you would have gotten on your own (and it's not like you really love the uniform you're wearing) so you feel grateful because this was his way of showing you kindness.

The very cold water washed away the sweat and dirt from the previous disastrous day. You also took the opportunity to remove the bandage and wash your hair with the shampoo you had appropriated without permission. The wound in your throat had begun to heal since it was not so deep after all, but you had to be very careful not to hurt it since it still hurt when you moved too much. 

In the absence of a toothbrush you took two swigs of the mint mouthwash on top of the sink and walked out smelling like Toji which somehow filled you with tranquility. It doesn't take you long to find him, he was in the kitchen watching the news and spooning a spoonful of cereal into his mouth when he paused at the sight of you, a smile stretching his lips.

"You look weird." You didn't look weird. You looked like a female version of him but you decided to swallow the comment that would point this out and laugh softly instead. Toji pats the empty stool next to him which prompts you to move closer to him, a bowl of cereal was placed in front of the chair you now occupy of which you begin to eat from resting your eyes on the television and the grizzled gentleman reporting live on an accident that happened in the harbor.

All of this felt comforting but at the same time it was out of place. You? Eating cereal on a Sunday morning as if you were a normal young girl? You never had the chance to enjoy your teenage years or even have free time, you never knew what it was like to own a phone, go out to the park with friends, have a pet or even what it was like to have a crush on someone. All you have ever done is serve others, you dreamed of this day so much that one day you stopped wishing for it and accepted your destiny, you accepted that you would serve the Zenin clan until they didn't need you anymore, until your hair lost its color and they threw you out on the street.

But now you were here and you could go anywhere if you wanted to, although for some reason you were still there. And for some reason, Toji hadn't kicked you out.

Still in disbelief you stare at Toji, you see him chewing carelessly on his cereal while his eyes are fixed on the TV. His eyelashes are long, his lips thin and they were moist from the milk, dripping slightly, the scar moved every time he chewed. The features of his face were mature and indicative of how tired he is, dark circles under his eyes and a frown— all you saw was someone tired.

“What?" Toji wasn't looking at you, but of course he knew you were looking at him. You don't even stop to admire him the moment you answer him.

"What have you made of your life? Fushiguro? Is it official?"

"I got married, I had a son." Surprise is painted on your face, your eyelids twitch slowly but Toji doesn't give you time to speak. "She died some time later, I stuck to what I do best." His neck turns, leaving the gray-haired gentleman's voice as a way of softening what he will say next. "You want to know what I do for a living? I kill people… sorcerers." The last comes with intentions to scare you.

You don't move a muscle when he finishes his speech, on his face is drawn a macabre smile that tells you that you should be afraid of him but you are not.

"Your son?" you ask instead, spooning another spoonful of cereal into your mouth as you hold his gaze.

"He's fine." Toji replies simply, downplaying it, and you decide not to probe further for now, grateful that he's opened up a bit about his past with you.

Before you knew it you had finished eating, you had emptied your bowl almost completely, chewing and swallowing automatically.

Toji next to you leaves his stool to walk to the sink, undisguised you soak yourself in him cooling his face with the flow of water, running his wet hands through his hair and then with a towel that was nearby he dries his hands.

"I'm leaving."

"Work?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come with you?"

"Nope." You ignored him anyway and walked behind him. "Stop following me."

Still, you didn't. Because where else could you go? At least today would be the last day of your life where you could enjoy the present without worrying about what you have to do tomorrow.

Toji didn't do anything to stop you either, he let you down the stairs behind him and let you ride shotgun in an old blue car that was parked behind the building.

"This is your car?" your eyes examine the dashboard, your curious fingers didn't hold back from touching the radio and Toji tapped them gently getting your attention back to him.

"Don't touch." He was smiling, the scar was unbearably attractive. Your hands folded in your lap obediently. "Sometimes it is," he continued speaking, turning the steering wheel with one hand to take the corner.

For a couple of seconds all you hear on the radio is an annoying static noise, which from time to time quiets down to give way to a female voice that doesn't last long before it is shut off again by the annoying static.

The window pane is down and your face is outside the window, holding onto your own arms as the sun warms your face and the breeze ruffles your hair which is starting to dry. There are many people on the streets, some carrying ice cream in their hands and others walking their dogs which makes you smile once again as you contemplate every little detail in awe.

"Glass up and head in," complains Toji next to you. You move away from the window to examine him. 

"Will you ever stop being so grumpy?"

"Ugh?" Toji genuinely looks offended, raising an eyebrow as he exchanges glances with you and the road. You laugh.

"I don't think you know the word fun."

"And you do?" For that moment he looked at you longer than someone behind the wheel should.

"Aren't you ashamed that a maid knows how to have more fun than you?"

"I can't believe I'm seeing with my own eyes the life of the party. What were you doing, falling asleep at ten and playing with brooms?" you laugh against your will, your lips stretching until it hurts.

"Oh! So you do know how to make jokes."

"Shut up."

"Sir get your feet off the table, don't take your head out of the window, get out of my house."

"I would never say take your feet off the table because I don't care." 

“You don't clean?"

"Nah. That's Shiu's doing." So that was his name.

"That's why you need a maid," you tried to persuade him in a gentle tone.

"You're not going back to that house, kiddo. We'll only get in trouble," Toji warns earnestly as he drives around another of the city's numerous corners.

"Stop calling me that! I'm an adult, you know!" you protest, raising your voice.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Toji replies sarcastically as he parks under the shade of a leafy tree and you realize you were in front of a school. "I need you to do something for me."

 "What do you want?"

Outside the school, children were walking out hand in hand with their parents as a teacher enthusiastically waved them off. You turned to face Toji, who peered through your window. You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"No," you reply firmly, crossing your arms and sinking them into the breadth of your T-shirt. 

"Huh?" Toji arches an eyebrow.

"Are you thinking of kidnapping a child?" you ask indignantly, full of question marks in your voice.

Toji burst out laughing, laughing at a joke that you didn't think was funny at all.

"What?" His eyes narrowed until they were barely visible, and dramatically, he wiped an imaginary tear from one of his eyes. "No. Do you see the boy over there?" he pointed a long finger out into the street, and you followed his gaze.

"The one in the green T-shirt?" you asked, watching a chubby blond boy picking his nose.

"The one next to him," Toji corrected, pointing to another boy who was looking at the blond boy with a frown, clutching his backpack. You turned your neck to Toji. .

"The grumpy one?" you asked. "Your son?" You don't need his confirmation when he falls silent at the accusation. 

"Just go closer and make sure he’s okay," the man turned away from your curious gaze, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel, concentrating on the brown leaf-covered road.

"Okay?" you insisted.

"No bruises or anything like that," Toji mumbled through his teeth, downplaying it with a wave of his hand. However, you noticed a genuine concern in his words.

You looked again at the boy, who was still glaring in disgust at the others. The task you had been given made your heart beat fast.

"I'm sure he's fine," you say, still watching him.

"You wanted to come, so go. The car ride is not free, kid," Toji comments. 

"Stop calling me that. I have a name," you demand, your jaw tense and your teeth clenched, wanting him to look at you with the same admiration and respect with which you looked at him.

"I will if you go," Toji says, staring at you.

If this was your way of saying thank you for what he had done for you so far, then so be it. Your bottom lip quivered and his blue gaze intimidated you. After all, a deal's a deal. You got out of the car carefully, checking both sides of the street before crossing and starting to walk towards the school. Before you took another step, a man approached the boy, seeming to know him by the familiarity with which they treated each other. He was a man about your own age, tall and with white hair.

Reluctantly, he took the boy's hand and led him in the opposite direction of the school. You trotted back toward the car.

"Who was that?" you questioned Toji before even closing the door. 

"A friend," Toji replied laconically as he started the car again.

"So he's in good hands. If you're friends, why didn't you approach him?" 

"Hmm," Toji muttered, dodging. "Lots of questions."

"Why don't you approach him?" you insisted once again.

Toji sighed before replying sincerely, "This is my way of taking care of him." Despite your initial misgivings, you gradually felt content with his explanation, crossing your arms in momentary acceptance.

The day progressed, and Toji drove you to a nearby pier. He left you in the car while he walked away to ask some questions of some people in the area. From the window, you watched the reflection of the sun on the water and in it the blurry image of Toji grabbing the man in the boat by the shirt threatening to throw him into the sea. You shivered in your seat, focusing your whole body and senses in the direction of the fight but you didn't dare get out because you didn't want to disobey him (besides there wasn't much you could do). It was some time before Toji returned to the car, with a frown on his face and an expression that told you he hadn't gotten clear answers but told you he wasn't going to answer any of the questions you never asked.

Finally, Toji took you to a cozy ramen restaurant. You ate together in a quiet corner of the place, sharing in bits and pieces stories of his work and your memories of when you were a slave. As the evening progressed, the initial tension between you began to dissipate. You realized that, despite his rough exterior, Toji had a kind and protective side in his own way.

After a long day together, you returned home, the sun had set and the city lights were beginning to glow. Although more questions than answers had arisen, you were beginning to feel closer to Toji and the world around him.

— / / / 

"You're very quiet," Toji says after closing the apartment door behind you. He continues on his way without stopping to really check, straight to the switch where it allows the light bulb to chase away the gloomy shadows which you appreciate. "And I don't know if I like that or it scares me," he adds.

Toji is looking at you now at a safe distance for you because your thoughts became a mess when you had him close. A sudden chill fills you with shivers and you bring your hands up to your forearms to hug yourself, apparently you had forgotten to close a window.

"I've made a decision but I know you're going to laugh."

Toji licks his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing the scar erasing the birth of a smile, you look at him with raised eyebrows and unable to contain himself he lets out a snort followed by his hands raised to chest height in a sign of peace and surrender.

"Stop it," you ask.

"Please speak up," Toji encourages you, crossing his arms.

"I want you to train me." You pause, seeing no response from him you continue speaking with your throat strangely dry. "I want to learn from you and I want to kill the ringleaders of the Zenin clan.”

"You want revenge?" To your surprise his countenance was serious, with some muscle in his jaw clenched.

"Yes."

"Then I can't help you. Revenge is the worst emotion you can cling to in order to go on living."

You blink a couple of times in his direction, perplexed that as soon as he finished speaking he turned around and headed down the hallway to continue on his journey to wherever he was headed, your mouth opens and closes a couple of times until you perk up and take a step forward.

"What?!" you shout, confused.

"There is no point in seeking revenge."

Toji speaks without stopping walking, without raising his voice, moving to the direction where your room was. You chase after him with a vein throbbing in the sides of your head, you were so full of rage accumulated over so many years that your thoughts were clouded.

"You're going to give me moral lessons?”

"Listen." He turns, pointing an accusing finger at you and you force your feet to stop so fast you nearly collide with it. "I've lived under the shadow of revenge every day, it's one of the reasons I get up every morning and it's an emotion that consumes you, you don't want that for yourself."

"You don't know me. You can't know what I want," you point out.

"It doesn't take knowing you to read you like the back of my hand. You couldn't bear to kill a fly."

You clench your jaw hard until your teeth grind from the pressure, your back is tense and erect as if someone was pulling it up. You take a step forward and Toji seems to give you the same importance he would give a mosquito, he turns his back on you again and walks into your room.

He didn't know you, he had no idea what you were capable of doing, you had the ability to kill someone, you were sure of that.

You follow him through the door frame. With the little blue light bathing the place, you notice Toji with a naked torso, the black t-shirt was lying on the floor at his feet, you had caught him halfway through his fingers grabbing the loop of his pants to undo it and let it fall.

You gasp, covering your lips with one hand and your mouth fills with saliva. "What are you doing?" His skin looked smooth, marred by a scar near his left pec and another near the V that was blatantly marked above his pelvis, where a happy trail also began. "Get out of my room," you stammer, forcing yourself to focus on his eyes.

"This is my room." You lower your hand from your face slowly, at the revelation you can't help but take a wide look at the place, then up and down Toji. "And if you don't want to see me naked, I'd advise you to leave."

"We're not done talking."

"Yeah, we are," he replies. "I'm going to take a shower." Now you're the one crossing your arms.

"Train me," you demand. 

"I won't."

Before you can speak again he is pulling down his pants, your body as automatically turns away from him, fleeing from the flash of bare skin.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Ow come on, sweetheart. It's just a little skin. This just proves you're not ready for my training."

"How does seeing you naked have anything to do with training me!" He was crazy. Insane. Unhinged. And you worried that instead of pushing you away it would push you more into him.

"If you can't see a fucking dick, how are you going to have the stomach to cut someone's head off?"

You don't remember the last time you had felt so embarrassed. You were trembling but you had to show Toji how important this was to you, so against all odds you turned to see him. Your eyes went to his dick —which hung heavy and thick under the bush of hair above his pelvis— drawn by a magnetism stronger than your willpower, you swallowed your embarrassment and looked him in the face, your pussy wetting in the vastness of his shorts. Toji had a half smile on his face and you weren't sure if it was your nerves or the sudden dizziness, but you could see a pale shade of red on his cheeks.

"Fushiguro, please." Your fists were clenched as a way of keeping you bound to this present moment, your nails digging red-hot into your flesh forcing you not to wander back into the middle of her thighs.

"Let me take a shower," he sighs, chewing on a chuckle. "I'll be back soon and we can talk."

Toji moves away from your point of view and you don't move a muscle until you hear him close the bathroom door. You run to open a window, sticking your head out until the wind cools the heat from your cheeks. You pat your face gently with trembling fingers, then scrunch your eyes and sink your face into the palms of your hands and for a long minute you sigh at the scent of liquid soap, the shampoo in your hair and the smell of food that clung to your shirt thanks to the ramen restaurant.

Underneath the baggy T-shirt your nipples are hard, aching every time they brush against the thick fabric begging for some kind of release.

There was a lot of traffic on the street, every now and then you could hear the horn of a vehicle in the distance. You linger in the safety that space afforded you until Toji's voice shocks you by calling your name from behind, followed by an apology if his behavior earlier had made you uncomfortable but he needed to make a point.

You turn on your heels to look at him. Toji has a white towel wrapped around his hips, his chest as well as his hair are soaked with hundreds of water droplets that you would like to lick (you cross out that thought immediately), he runs his hand through his jet hair and you forget how to breathe, the room that starts to give off an unbearable heat closes in on you.

"I hear you, you needed to prove a point and that's okay." You lick your lips.

Toji starts wandering in the room, opens the closet and takes out some pajama pants.

"Shiu would have to be convinced that you can do the job." Your eyebrows raise to the sky slightly but you don't say anything. "And have him take you into his apartment until you can be somewhere else safe," Toji says, slipping into his pants still wearing the towel.

Wonderful, he had no boxers underneath. Which made his penis stand out shamelessly when he removed the towel altogether, the garment falling dangerously below his sharp hip bones.

"I can do the job." You force yourself to keep the thread of conversation going, scratching a nonexistent itch on your forehead.

"Good." Toji leaves the room with the towel in his hand, so you think he probably went to put it in the bathroom and you take the opportunity to let your legs rest from shaking and sit on the bed. "But you are free to leave at any time. I'm not going to force you to be here, Shiu either," Toji shouts from the hallway and as he speaks his voice gets closer until he materializes in the doorway.

"Thank you." That's all you can say at this point as he looks down on you. Toji makes a sound with his tongue and points to the hallway with his head.

"Do you want something to eat? We have cereal and..." he pauses, trying to remember more food list and a smile appears on your lips.

"I'm fine," you gently confess to him.

"We can order ramen or Chinese food. I'm starving, I think Shiu left his wallet." 

"I'm fine, Toji. Thank you," you repeat, still maintaining your smile.

Toji nods and leaves the room. You can breathe again, your chest feels squeezed by an invisible weight and you open and close your hand to make the sudden cramp go away.

You walk over to the window to take a last breath of the night air, the damp wind, the smell of smoke and the smell of freedom. Your lungs expand with the scent of street dirt.

You were free to go anywhere, to run away, to escape, to keep running, yet you decided to go back to Toji's bed. You lay your head on a pillow while hugging another to cheat the ghost of loneliness and pretend you were really with someone so it makes you feel safe— although you don't know how long it takes, but after trying to fall asleep watching the figures forming the light from the window on the floor mixed with the noise of the TV in the distance you realize you can't fall asleep, too scared and anxious to do so (if your savior wasn't around). 

So you pull the warm sheet away from your body and leave the room in the direction of where the noise from the television was coming from, where you now realize that it is a baseball game.

"Hey," Toji greets as he notices you approaching him. He contemplates your figure silently as he watches you drop your weight beside him, wearing nothing but his big old t-shirt, your thighs were in full view. "Can't sleep?" Toji was watching you out of the corner of his eye, you shake your head.

"You?" you ask, watching the game.

"I was thinking of sleeping on the couch."

"No," you whine. "It's your room, it's your bed, we can share it."

Toji snorts. "You know how I sleep, I almost strangled you this morning."

"That’s not true." You tear your eyes away from the television to focus on him, blue and green lights dance across his features, across his cheekbones and sharp jaw. For a second your gazes stumble and he focuses on your lips for the duration of a blink. "I mean you did but I don't mind." You chuckle at a bad joke, Toji makes the attempt at a laugh. "You'd be doing me a favor anyway."

"Don't say that, kid— [Name]," he corrects himself at once, turning his focus back to the game, you pat his bare shoulder in a sign of 'congratulations'. "You still have a lot to live for, there's a lot you haven't seen or known yet. Even I don't want to die."

"Don't say it like that," you scold him with a frown, still looking at him... admiring him. "You have a lot to live for, too."

"Nah."

"Stop it. You have your son."

"He hates me, [Name]," he says with a tone of bitterness, you stay quiet for a moment, soaking in the noise of the match narrator, fumbling what to say. You hadn't comforted anyone before, not even your fellow maidservants, you didn't know exactly what to do or what to say so you loosened your tongue.

"I don't think he hates you, Toji." You said his name with such compassion, his jaw tensed focusing his vision to the ground. "Even if he hates you, you're alive, you have a chance to make things right, to change, to be better."

Toji looks at you, rather looks at your mouth, not wanting to pretend this time. "I don't want to change."

"I don't believe you." He looks into your eyes and you hold his gaze, one of your hands going up to his face and cradling his jaw. After a few seconds you feel the weight of his bones in your hand, indicating to you that he had dropped into it. "You know why I don't believe you?" your thumb goes to his lip and Toji parts them for you, the hardness of your hand meets his scar above his mouth and he flinches, pulling back a little. "Because you got this by protecting me."

Toji takes your hand between his fingers and slowly lowers your hand to his lap, for a while he stands still and you can't figure out what it is you see in his eyes because no one has ever looked at you like that before.

"I'm sure there are good things in you." Toji can feel the pulse in your wrist, he could even swear he can hear your heart. Pumping and beating, rumbling in your ribs.

"Stop," Toji begs, unable to look at you.

Enveloped in the frenzy that engulfs you, you let go and take his face in your hand again and Toji drops into it like a puppy in need of attention. His face looks beautiful under the lights on the television, those pretty blue eyes covered in a heavy layer of glitter. They were the same eyes that looked down on you from upstairs in the hallway when he helped you to your feet after his cousin abused you, eyes full of compassion.

"Have you ever left the country?" The question rolls off your tongue.

That look full of longing changes for a second to one of confusion, anyway he answers. "No."

"Have you ever seen a live band?" 

"W- no," he chuckles.

"How long has it been since you've been to the sea?" This time he doesn't speak, you continue. "You still have many things to see, to live, don't take away the value of your life."

Toji gazes at you, closes his eyes for a moment trying to calm his inner storm but when he opens them again, long, heavy eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings— you were still here. He feels the warmth of your hand against his still in his lap, feels the firm touch of your palm on his cheek, his lungs filling with his fragrance permeating you. It was not a dream.

Toji leans forward and you don't move a muscle even though he sees something tighten in your neck and your breathing stops for just an instant.

"Please, stop me." He thinks he says to himself but his words actually reach the surface, fly to your ears in a whisper.

Toji holds you in the same way you hold him, his fingers, bigger than yours and any other maid you've ever known caresses your cheek in the same way a butterfly would kiss a flower. And this simple fact is enough to make your stomach flare, your eyelids give way to nerves and you swallow a breath.

"Please..." Toji begs again in a breath, but this time his lips are on yours, not touching you directly but just enough to let you feel his warm exhale. You could taste the milk on his lips from the cereal he had eaten and this made you lick your lips, wandering if you could discover the taste of milk on his tongue as well. "I thought you had died."

"You rescued me. That memory kept me alive."

At your confession Toji finally cuts the distance and presses his lips to yours. Just a brush, something too fast to be considered a kiss, so in search of more you pounce on him.

Your grip leaves his neck to hug the back of his neck and pull him further into you. As the baseball game is interrupted by commercials behind your back, Toji squeezes your thighs and drags you over his lap stealing a groan of surprise.

His kisses are no longer on your mouth, they go in search of your jaw and the jugular vein in your neck. Toji feels it throbbing fast against his mouth, he bites down, you moan, and he swipes his thick, hot tongue across the area soothing the burning.

"Please, stop me." You hear the request for the third time. The prayer is needy and hungry.

"I'm not going to stop you."

Toji suddenly interrupts his actions to look at you. His hands are shakily tangled inside your/his shirt.

"I can't love you." He lies, as a last resort to get you to stay away from him. You are too precious for someone like him, being around him would only ruin you.

"I don’t care," —you interrupt the intrusive train of thought in your head— “I have love enough for both of us."

If revenge was the worst emotion you can cling to in order to go on living, then you would cling to the love and admiration you feel for him.

Although you can't deny that it hurt to hear him say that, it hurt more to respond to him, it hurt when his fingers pulled hard on your nipples kneading your breasts roughly and it hurt when his teeth dug into your lip and forced his tongue into your mouth (and you were right, he tasted like milk and honey). It took courage to swallow your emotions and not run away to your/his room but you understood, you understood when he tugged off your shirt and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

You understood that both Toji and you needed this. No matter how long it took him to forget his wife, you were going to be by his side with him, as a friend, as a lover....

"Ah, ngh!"

Or as his murderous partner.

Because that's what you deserve. Finally make your own decisions, screw it up, damage it or start over.

But you were free to choose and now you chose to watch Toji from above suck on your nipples like a hungry man while your hips as with life could rub against the growing erection. His hands squeezed your breasts as he licked one to return with the other and do the same pattern while you could do nothing but gasp with parted lips.

"Fuck," he cursed, harshly carving a hard nipple with his flat tongue. 

"More," you implored.

So Toji left your tits alone for a while, licking his lips with the same punishing tongue to wipe away the trace of saliva that had been left behind. Then he slipped a hand inside the boxers and his fingers met the puddle that was your pussy.

"Oh my… [Name]."

You wanted to run away, but instead you moved your hips and the friction of three fingers on your clitoris made you moan, made you repeat the action.

"I'm sorry." The apology came out of your mouth before you could understand what you were apologizing for.

It was like when you dropped a dish, when you were late in returning a weapon, when your clothes were not spotless. They were the words your mouth was most familiar with.

"Why?" Toji questions you, forcing you to speak despite your condition. 

Condition: three of his fingers oscillating in circles over your over-stimulated clit.

"I asked.. why are you apologizing." With every word his fingers tap your sticky pussy, his words hot on top of your throbbing temple.

You swallow dryly. "I'm sorry," you repeat.

"Stop apologizing," Toji growls, moving to your ear, gently biting the gristle. "Are you a virgin?" The question feels like a concern, not for him but for you, it sounded like Toji needed to know whether or not you'd had sex before to know how to proceed.

"No." You reply dryly.

'No, I had sex with a member of the Zenin clan once, twice who turned out to be an asshole’ — is the answer you cut off halfway, perhaps an explanation you would —or would not— give Toji later when his fingers weren't pushing inside you.

Thanks to your lubricated pussy one finger was able to enter without difficulty, then another until you felt so full inside that you clung to Toji's shoulders for stability, hugging your body to his body as he waits for you to adjust to the size.

"Are you okay?" he asks, depositing small kisses on your shoulder. 

"Hm hm!" you respond positively with your lip between your teeth.

Then his fingers push in and you groan, then out and soon you miss them and again that word Toji could get used to hearing all night comes from your lips.

"More." And he laughs, wrapped in the pleasure he gets from giving you pleasure.

Toji starts a specific rhythm, fucking you open with his big fingers as his fat thumb entertains your clit and his own cock throbs in the confines of his pajama pants, staining the fabric in a matter of seconds. You feel it resting heavy on his thigh, the thickness and size making you scratch his back wishing you had the courage to do something about it, that you had the courage to pull it out and do something else, yet you don't find the courage, it hides deep inside you as Toji pumps your pussy, in and out and faster and faster in rhythm with his moans. You are sure that if the TV were off the sticky sounds would be filling your ears in a way too embarrassing to process.

In that same rhythm Toji makes you have your first orgasm, it tears you apart and leaves you dizzy sinking your teeth into his flesh after he told you it was okay, that you could drown your screams on his shoulder, so you did, so much so that you are sure it will leave a mark. You think about apologizing but your brain mimics his raspy voice asking you not to apologize again.

For a moment you think you're going to pass out, your whole body is sore especially your thighs but it's a pain, satisfying? You wouldn't know exactly what words to put it in. You mumble his name a hundred times and he pulls you by your collar to have you facing him, your hair is tousled, your gaze confused and your lips slightly red, his cock is throbbing and in that moment he promises something to himself: he needs to make you cum again.

Above the noise of the sloppy kiss in which Toji grabs you and the narrator of the game shouting excitedly for a home run Toji hears keys in the door. Shiu, he concludes. So he grabs you by the thighs and walks with you to the room you share, no matter how much you complain about your weight or scream that you're going to fall. He doesn't release you from his grip until he throws you onto the mattress and he locks the door.

Toji takes a moment to admire your half naked body, his fingers are still soaked with you and he brings them to his mouth covering them with his drool as he walks towards you.

"There are so many things I want to show you," he says, crawling on the bed. "So many things I want to do to you." His scar rises along with the half-smile. His fingers hook into the elastic of your boxers and you moan as you stand completely naked in front of him, under the blue lights and moonlight.

You open your lips to complain but Toji places a finger over his: 'Shh' he makes a sound, then touches his ear, indicating you to pay attention to the footsteps outside which makes you keep quiet again.

Toji pounces on you, caging your body under his. Without breaking the connection of your lips together with one hand he helps your legs spread, one knee far apart from the other and he improves his position in the center. His covered cock is above your core, throbbing and begging for real attention, your fingers slide to the nape of his neck.

"Toji," you breathe. You don't remember the last time you had done so. 

However, "Sh." He shushes you again by sucking the salty skin on your neck.

Each time his hips rotated over you you had to roll your eyes, so overwhelmed with pleasure. Toji then slides his fingers through your navel and reaches your sensitive clit again, the touch is as soft as a feather and at the same time he unloads on you static that fills you with shivers.

Toji wonders if he could make you cum like this, him rubbing shamelessly over your folds while at the same time stimulating your most sensitive spot. His fingers go faster and your back arches, trying to run away from the pleasure, from how raw his rough touch feels on your vulnerable flesh.

Your fingers tangle around his wrist and between dry-mouthed stutters you ask him to stop for a while. And he does so reluctantly, kissing your sweaty temple and dropping his heavy body next to you with a creak of the mattress, his chest rising and falling and the sound of the city making itself present again.

Adrenaline begins to leave your bloodstream bringing with it guilt and shame, you wonder what Toji who hasn't said another word in the last five minutes is thinking so you turn to your side to get a better look at him. He has his eyes wide open, focused somewhere on the ceiling as he sucks in his own lower lip, you move your eyes over every inch of his body until you are on his hips and the obvious bulge between his thighs, after a while of watching you realize you can see it trembling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask him after licking the sweat off your upper lip. Toji seems to have been forcibly brought out of his trance.

"What thing?" He asks, looking at you.

"Your... hmph, your penis."

He laughs, "Yeah," he replies quietly. 

"I want to make you feel good."

Toji turns his head to soak you in, his eyes going to every corner of your face, then to your breasts for a moment.

"You don't have to," he speaks hoarsely, turning to your eyes.

Wordlessly, you reach down to his crotch, your fingers mimic a playful spider dancing over his navel and tangling in the trail of short hairs but Toji stops you, the grip is insecure and you stare at each other for what feels like a heavy eternity but finally he gives you the freedom to continue exploring while at the same time exhaling through his nose just like a raging bull.

You touch him through his pants and the muscles in his legs tighten, he pushes his hips up in an animal instinct to reach for more. You size it up and rub it as you watch him grow amidst the darkness, finally you get up the courage to reach into his pants and Toji helps you by pulling it down just enough so it doesn't bother you.

Half naked under your nose you breathe in the raw scent of sex that collects in a cloud-like form in the room. Toji is so hard and you take him between a weak fist, somewhat unsure, as if it’s going to bite you. Inexperienced you give a downward tug and Toji throws his head back with a curse and a choked grunt.

"More. Squeeze your hand just a little tighter," Toji says, encouraging himself to raise his head again to look at you giving him pleasure.

"Like this?"

"Yeah. The tip, just... God— fuck the tip with your hand, I'm so sensitive."

It takes you little time to learn what he likes, you learn quickly and he is pleased. Toji asks you to cradle his balls and you do so obediently, then spit on the shaft as he commands, saliva runs down the swollen pink head and slides easily to reach his full balls. Toji hunches his back and turns sideways to pay attention to you— now in front of him you had nowhere to escape.

Toji breathes on your open mouth, his fingers squeeze your ass, caress your thighs longingly and end up on your pussy, pressing on the soaked folds. For a while he stays still, just feeling your clit throbbing, it's as if he was waiting for you to stop him again, he wanted to be sure. He tentatively slips a finger in the middle of your labia and you mewl.

"You're so wet," he admits with bated breath as you continue to masturbate him. "I wanna fuck you so bad," he says, biting your lip and you close your eyes, a little dizzy now that your clit was being stimulated again. "My whole body needs it, I need to put my heavy cock in that pretty pussy of yours, [Name]. I want to— fuck me. I want to slap it with my cock, I'm sure I could make you cum with just that."

"Toji!" you scream the instant two fingers go inside you without warning, quickly assaulting your pussy, pumping it in and out. "F-fuck me, do it."

"What was that?" with a sinister smile breaking the darkness along with his scar, he longed to hear you speak again.

"Please." You respond assigned, your stomach clenching.

"Next time, baby." He deposits a fleeting kiss on your lips. "When I get condoms I'm gonna pound that pussy so good that all you're gonna remember is my name. Now..., fucking cum for me."

You couldn't breathe or respond because his mouth was on yours, stealing your breath and what little strength your limbs had left. Your whole body ached, you felt so full with those two fingers plus thumb rubbing your clit back and forth, your fist squeezes just a little on the head of his cock, your thumb slides over the cleft of the cockhead and Toji growls on your tongue, you swallow the vibrations and squeeze your eyes tightly shut letting yourself sink into the liquid stream that tucks your body, for a second you stop breathing but you open your eyes suddenly screaming his name and he shushes you again kissing you deeply, soon after Toji cums in your fist and on his own stomach, drops of cum fall on the mattress and Toji moves away to find a t-shirt of his to clean it and help you clean yourself.

"Come here," he says, but he doesn't really give you a choice because his arms were wrapped around your body, dragging you on top of him.

You sigh. Your face was crushed into his chest, his big hand playing with your hair. You didn't know what to say, you could hear his heart beating as fast as yours, you were tired and sore but never before had you felt happier than at this moment.

"Rest up, tomorrow will be your first day of training." Toji kisses the crown of your head and that's all you hear before you sink into a thick froth of dreams, where all you can appreciate is Toji's warm, naked body against yours and the soft sheets beneath your bodies.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

A/N: been gone for a hot minute due to personal circumstances but just wanted to drop a lil something (that anyone who watches Doctor Who will be able to tell I started writing a BIT ago given the references here lol) to let you guys know I’m still kickin it <3

warnings: slight hint at an age gap but nothing specific

A Smile

You can imagine the rest of the team would be floored to hear that Spencer has actually exchanged texts with you on a multitude of occasions, outside of professional settings. Numbers were swapped on your first day, naturally, and to begin with you only dared text Spencer if you had absolutely no other choice (if another member of the team could text him, you’d busy yourself to ensure they would, rather than ask you, to save you the embarrassment). But, ever since the first occasion that you texted Spencer a random question out of hours - regarding trivia you definitely hadn’t spent a concerning amount of time deciding on before you sent it to him - you have formed a bond that’s unspoken beyond typed words.

You: so, are you looking forward to the 60th Anniversary? :P

As you hit send, you roll onto your bed, grinning giddily down at your phone. In no more than a few seconds, your screen tells you that your beloved genius is already typing back to you, and within a minute, you receive the paragraph you’d anticipated.

Spencer: Absolutely. The revival of Russel T. Davies’ era, coupled with the return of Murray Gold’s legendary scores, are sure to ignite the spark of nostalgia that the show has been missing for some time. In particular, I am looking forward to seeing how Russel will format this new regeneration of the Doctor, and how many references to his predecessors will decorate the anniversary episodes, especially. I take it you are excited for the anniversary episodes, too, hence the question?

His formality and enthusiasm being conveyed in a way that is so distinctly Spencer, even over text, is enough to have you giggling. You know by now that if you ask something about one of Spencer’s interests, whether it be facts, statistics, generalized trivia, questions, literature, Star Trek or, in this case, Doctor Who, there is no way he can downplay his excitement.

You: knew it! :D and yeah, I'm super excited!!

Mostly, you are thrilled by the thought of discussing the episodes at great length with Spencer for weeks after they’ve aired, but you keep that safely in the subtext of your conversation.

Spencer: Of course you knew. Perhaps we could share a live commentary on the anniversary episodes, if we’re not otherwise engaged with a case?

Only Spencer Reid can make your heart stop with a suggestion like that. Before you can consider any consequences, you are frantically typing back to him.

You: I’d love that! will the commentary be by text or call?

He is typing the moment your message reaches him, his ability to read at what you consider to be the speed of light making for a wonderfully speedy texting partner in every conversation you have.

Spencer: Either is fine, but if we aren’t away on a case, I must admit the idea of experiencing the episodes together in person would be most preferable. It eradicates the risk of our viewings not being synced up or our call connection potentially spoiling the immersion. What do you think?

And just like that, he’s stopped your heart again. In fact, you truly have to consider whether Spencer Reid has figured out a means of reaching through his phone to yours, to snatch your heart right out of your chest. As though he hadn’t already stolen it on the day you met.

You: I think you’re right, like always, Doctor Reid :P

That’s a rational reply, you think. Not too eager. Not the resounding ‘yes’ that every fiber of your being is screaming. In the chess game that is how-to-text-Spencer-Reid, you have marked yourself as the queen. He’d tell you that’s not how chess works, but he’d probably also agree.

Spencer: I’m far from right “always”, but I very much appreciate that you think so.

You’re about to reply, when another text appears on your screen.

Spencer: (:

Doctor Spencer Reid has double-texted you. And, not only that, he’s sent you a smiley face. This is unprecedented. Your jaw drops.

You: omg you did not just send that

Honestly, your life is flashing before your eyes as you lie on your bed. Is this the power of your influence? Could you truly indoctrinate older men into sending emojis? Could this really be you?

Spencer: I most certainly did. I’ll even do it again.

Spencer: (:

He had to send it as a separate text. He couldn’t just add the smiley face to the end of his original message. No, of course he couldn’t.

You: omg who are you!!

You’re laughing now. Actually, properly laughing at the ridiculousness of this situation. Wait until Penelope hears about this.

Spencer: I don’t think these suit me very much, but they are fun. What about this one - 🙂

This is going too far. You’ve played God. You’ve flown too close to the sun. You’ve created a monster in the form of Spencer Reid using emojis while still being so formal. Still, you can’t deny that this is perhaps the funniest conversation you have ever had, with anyone, specifically because it perfectly demonstrates the unique humor shared between the two of you.

You: woah! careful! don’t push it, genius!!

And, in response to that, Spencer Reid is left with a philosophical question he has never before pondered: how does one convey sincere laughter via text? This reply takes him the longest, because he has to consider it very carefully. He wants it to indicate how funny he did find your message, and does find you, in general. He wants it to be obvious in its intent and impossible to misunderstand. So, after four minutes, you receive a text that has you laughing so hard you very nearly fall off of your bed.

Spencer: Haha.

Sometimes, that’s simply how your text conversations with Spencer end. While he does, generally, prefer a more traditional ending in the form of a goodnight text (that he actually makes the effort to sign off with a “- Spencer x”, like it’s a handwritten letter), he enjoys the nuances of an open end, on the basis it means a conversation with you doesn’t have to end. Only has to pause, temporarily, until one of you picks it back up again. There is something poetic, Spencer thinks, to the notion of you being his constant both in metaphor and literally in a text conversation that isn’t formally closed. That door is left open to you, much like the door to his heart is.

And that night, he closes his eyes with a smile on his face at the thought of you, everything you are, everything you make him feel. Everything that makes you, you, and how that makes you everything to him.

A text could never truly convey the heaven that you bring to him by existing, but just like proposing plans to watch Doctor Who with you, it’s a good place to start.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Baby fever

AN: I'm sure your shock has been imagined that I wrote this. I haven't even watched the video fully yet because I should be have been trying to work on my final assignments for the semester but, I've seen enough to prompt me to write this very impulsively. Apologies to all of the fics I was actively working on (glances at my 2Min drabble with apologetic eyes).

Synopsis: Seeing pictures and videos of your boyfriend with a baby inspires a stronger reaction from you than either of you could have anticipated.

Heads up: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, the plot is barely there if I'm being honest, dirty talk, usage of pet names, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex for the first time, both Reader and Hyunjin cry at points, one mention of Reader worrying she'll draw blood from Hyunjin but no actual blood and it isn't referenced beyond that, very apparent breeding kink and talks about breeding, Hyunjin says mommy once in reference to making Reader a mum, creampie and dacryphilia kink if you squint.

Word count: 3765

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when your phone buzzes with a notification from Felix. He always sends you messages throughout the day, even when he has a pretty packed schedule. Asking you how your day is, telling you about his and sending you short videos and funny pictures of the rest of the members that he manages to catch.

So when you open his message, you expect maybe a selfie with him and Chris or a video of Minho feigning annoyance at being recorded.

What you don't expect is to see Hyunjin. Well, that's not entirely true. Felix sends you pictures and videos of Hyunjin all of the time. What you don't expect is to see your boyfriend awkwardly and carefully holding an incredibly adorable, chubby baby.

He did mention a while ago now that he, Felix, and Jeongin were going to be on some variety show with children, but it had honestly slipped your mind. University has been eating you alive for the past month or so, so any space in your brain for anything that isn't response papers and projects has been minimal.

Now, as you as you sit at your desk with the Word document left untouched, all you can do is stare at the video of Hyunjin trying his best to soothe the baby. His hold on him is very clumsy and it makes you a little anxious but, it's all dwarfed by how softly your boyfriend looks at him and how his massive hands cradle the baby's tiny body to his. The smile on his face is positively radiant, and the little cooing sounds he makes do eventually draw a smile and giggle from the baby comfortably in his arms.

You don't think you've felt your heart constrict more in your chest ever in your entire life. Not even when he told you he loved you for the first time or when the two of you went on your first date or the first time you had sex. Sitting here, seeing him fumble his way through interacting with this baby and the unadulterated softness in his face, completely derails any other train of thought than wanting to have a baby of your own with him.

Which is absolute insanity.

Not only are the two of you nowhere near ready to be parents, your relationship is also not even a year old yet. You've spoken about children, and while you are on the same page, now is nowhere near the time.

Still, the more carnal part of your brain can't find it to care as you continue to scroll through the barage of pictures and videos Felix sent to you. An audible 'aw' leaving your lips when the baby's tiny hand wraps around your boyfriend's finger.

Yeah, there's no way you're getting any work done today.

You practically lunge at Hyunjin when he opens your front door. You swallow his noise of surprise greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing him to the door he just barely manages to close. Despite being caught thoroughly off-guard, he kisses you back. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

"Not that I'm complaining," he breathes out once he separates himself from your lips, "but, what brought this on?"

"Lix sent me pictures and videos of you with a baby," you mutter against his neck as you kiss along the sensitive skin there. Your blood turning into molten heat in your veins as he squirms and whimpers against you. You're sure you're wet enough already to take him. You've been wet for what feels like hours now.

"Okay?" He says, blinking at you in confusion through the lust induced haze he was momentarily in.

"You looked really cute and happy."

He still doesn't seem to quite understand what about that would cause you to react like this.

"Seeing you with a baby was really attractive," you finally spell out for him.

"Attractive?!" He squeaks out, and you'd usually find that endearing and cause to smush his cheeks between your hands, but you're too highstrung right now.

"Yes," you breathe, resuming your kisses along on his neck, on part of his jaw until you reach his ear, "it was really, really attractive. I couldn't even focus on my work because all I could think about was you cumming inside of me and, putting a baby in me."

You're sure Hyunjin would have crumpled to your floor if he wasn't leaning against your door. He was blushing so hard you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You don't think you've ever seen him get this red, especially so quickly, ever.

"Wh-what?" Is all he can respond with and, in all fairness, you did drop a nuclear bit of information on the poor man, so this reaction isn't exactly unexpected.

You take one of his hands and slip it into the waistband of your shorts and panties, moaning quietly when his fingers come into contact with your soaked slit. Hyunjin isn't unaffected either if the glaze in his eyes and bob of his adam's apple are anything to go by.

"I've been so wet for you all day, Jinnie," you whine, your eyes fluttering slightly and your walls clenching when his fingers run along your folds all on their own.

"Fuck," he grits, catching you by surprise this time around and slamming his mouth into yours. This kiss is more carnal than the last one. It's all teeth and tongue and spit and, all you can do is fist his shirt to steady yourself while his nimble fingers stroke you. You're barely aware that he's pushing you backwards until you find yourself hitting your couch. His mouth remains firmly on yours as you two tumble onto it.

A disappointed whine leaves you when his hand leaves your panties and shorts. Your walls throb borderline painfully, and you feel acutely empty. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you," he has the audacity to laugh, albeit hoarsely.

"Jinnie, I'm ready. Please, I want you inside of me. I'm beyond ready," you whimper, clutching onto his biceps. Giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pout while he clenches his jaw at your words.

"You're trying to kill me," he groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. From the pressure you feel on your thigh right now, you're sure your suggestion sounds tempting right now.

He kisses you more slowly this time. Savouring every brush and press of your lips against his own and, the two of you moan into each other as your tongues caress one another. You thought you'd won until you feel his hands impatiently tug your shirt up, exposing your breasts to the cool air of your apartment. His mouth descending down your neck, lavishing your throat with kisses and licks while you arch into him. Your hands tugging on his dark locks while he kisses down your body.

"Hyun-Hyunjin," you whimper, your hips jolting up into him when his breaths ghost over one of your hardened nipples.

"Are you sure you still want me to just fuck you?" Is all he says before you find your nipple enveloped by his mouth and your other breast in one of his hands.

You're sure you've soaked through your panties and are close to ruining your shorts from the way your wetness trickles out of you with every lick and suck of your boyfriend's sinful mouth. The vibrations from the groans he presses into you only make it all so much worse, along with the precise way his fingers tug and lightly pinch your other nipple.

Hyunjin would happily spend hours with his mouth and hands all over your breasts if history is any indication. However, as eyeroll and toe-curl inducing as this all feels, you're determined to get your way.

Your hands cup his face and pull him up to you. The frown on his thoroughly kissed lips almost makes you laugh, but you kiss him before the giggles get the better of you, and he complains about you ruining his time with your tits.

"Want you," you mutter against his lips, palming his erection through his jeans. The evidence of his want for you clear as day and heavy in your palm. You're tempted to just flip him over and sink down on him yourself.

"An-And I'm the one always being called impatient," he retorts with an affectionate roll of his eyes and kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"It's not my fault you looked so attractive," you respond with a shrug, biting back the complaint on the tip of the tongue when he peels away from you to tug off his shirt. God, you really must be the luckiest woman alive.

"I didn't think you'd be so into it," he says distractedly, impatiently tugging down his jeans and leaving him in nothing but his black boxers that cling in a horribly tempting way to his slender hips and, outline his hard cock.

You're not sure whether your mouth or pussy waters more.

Hyunjin flushes under your intense gaze, as if you haven't seen him naked more times than both of you could count. It still boggles your mind sometimes how your boyfriend can turn from confident, sexy and suave to an awkward, flustered mess in an instant. Well, that duality is among the multitude of reasons you're so irrevocably in love with him.

"You're staring," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

"It's not my fault you're so hot," you retort, delighting in the deepening blush on his cheeks. He's just too easy for his own good.

He just huffs in parts exasperation and embarrassment, choosing instead to focus on getting you naked. The playful atmosphere quickly dissipates as he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and panties, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off.

Once he's tossed them somewhere to join the heap of clothes littering your floor, Hyunjin settles himself between your thighs once more but, on his stomach this time. You really, really wish he'd just fuck you and before you're able to verbalise that thought, your boyfriend takes a slow, deliberate lick at you.

A strangled gasp flies from your lips and your hips jolt but, his large hands hold you firm. "Just let me do this for you, okay?" He asks, his stupid, pretty brown eyes boring into yours through his dark hair. His mouth hovers above you, as if waiting for some sort of response from you.

"Fuck, fine Jinnie, okay. Please, just do some-" your words are cut off by a choked sob when Hyunjin takes your words as a green light. His lips attached themselves to your poor clit, licking and sucking in ways that tighten the knots in your gut and causes your toes to curl. Your fingers weaving themselves into his hair and tugging, which prompts a whimper from your boyfriend. The vibrations making your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

A pitchy moans of his name fill the air of your apartment when his slender fingers toy with your entrance. Barely breaching your hole and you want to scream.

"Hyunjin," you whimper out, impatiently tugging on his hair.

"I'm sorry," he mutters against you with a smile and, pushes two of his fingers into you gradually.

They don't fill you nearly as much as you need but, they're better than nothing. That thought is particularly bolstered when he curls them inside of you, only needing a few moments before he finds the spot inside of you that makes your thighs quiver and your mind to go blank. Combined with his unrelenting ministrations on your poor, sensitive clit and how needy you've been for him all day, it all becomes too much so quickly.

"Hyun-Hyunjin, Jinnie. I- I'm-" You're not even sure what you're trying to articulate but, the jumbled mess of words seem to only motivate your boyfriend further. He curls his fingers harder and laps at your clit with renewed enthusiasm.

That's all it takes for everything to fracture.

You're sure the grip you have on Hyunjin's hair hurts but, you can't help it. Everything seizes and your walls spasm viciously, clamping down so harshly on Hyunjin's fingers he can barely keep curling them inside of you. Still, he tries. He's not as intense as he was moments ago but, still fingers you through your orgasm while his tongue gently laps up everything you give him.

You sag against your couch once your body relaxes. You're half certain you'd float up into the air if Hyunjin's grip on you wasn't still so strong. Speaking of your boyfriend, he does eventually unlatches himself from your hypersensitive clit. His hair is completely dishevelled, and you could already see a thin sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. His tongue pokes out to chase every bit of you he can on his bruised lips, his eyes dark.

You're sure he feels the way you clench around his fingers despite quite literally just cumming. He leans down to hungrily kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue that he pushes into your eager mouth. As if your mind isn't muddled enough. You moan into him when he very slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Now you feel so empty that it physically hurts.

"Jinnie," you plead, your fingers reaching down to toy with the waistband of his boxers. The muscles of his abdomen jumping with every brush of your fingers against them. One of his hands comes down to cup your jaw, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

"Fine, fine," he says after pulling away from you and tugging his boxers down. His cock bobs in the air between the two of you as he drops his boxers on your floor. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and even more of your wetness leaks out of you, smearing your inner thighs.

Hyunjin gets up, and that kicks you out of the stupor you were in. Your hand shoots to grab his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Where are you you going?"

"To uh...get condoms?" He asks, confusion evident in both his voice and handsome face.

"Why?"

"Wh-Why?"

"Yeah, why? I'm okay with not using them if you are. I wasn't kidding when I said I really want you to cum inside of me."

Hyunjin closes his eyes then. Gritting his teeth before responding, "What about...y'know? Not that I don't want to have children with you eventually but-"

"Jinnie, I'm on the pill. I have been since I was a teenager."

That stops Hyunjin. His big, brown eyes blinking at you as if he can't quite believe that this is real. That this is happening.

You soften then, slipping your hand downwards to intertwine your fingers with his longer ones, "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to. We can use condoms if that's what you're comfortable with."

That seems to only make your boyfriend flail harder, "No, no. It's not that I don't want to. Honestly, I've thought about it a lot," that makes you raise an eyebrow, "I've just never- I've just never done it without a condom before."

"Neither have I," you respond easily.

"Really?"

The look you give him is enough for Hyunjin to recognise what a dumb question that was, "Right, okay, sorry."

That seems to ease his anxieties significantly, he doesn't look nearly as tense as he did when you suggested the idea. You tug him down into another deep kiss, wrapping your arms around him as he resumes his place between your thighs. Gasps leaving both of you when his cock nudges at your very wet folds, the barely there pressure and searing heat causing your nails to dig into his shoulders.

"You're 100% sure about this right?" He asks once more, his eyes swirling with nervousness and desire.

While you appreciate how sweet he's being, you're seconds from pulling out your hair if he doesn't just fuck you right now. However, an idea comes to your mind to finally entice your boyfriend into fully letting go.

One of your hands reaches down until you reach the apex of your thighs, spreading your pussy for him to see just how sure you are.

"Yes, Jinnie. Fuck me, please."

Something in Hyunjin snaps then. His mouth swallowing your whimpers as he finally sinks into you. You can feel him practically vibrating with the effort to keep himself composed.

He's so hot inside of you. You're not sure sex has ever felt so intense. You've had him inside of you hundreds of times but, this...this is completely different. You swear you can feel everything. Every twitch and every throb and every vein as your walls melt around him. Before you know it, you're blinking away tears from how overwhelming it all is and pull him closer to you, wrapping your legs around him.

"Fuck, wait. Shit, don't do that. Don't move," he chokes out into the hollow of your throat, his own hold on your hips growing harsh and his cock twitching repeatedly inside of you.

"Jinnie, move," you whine into his ear, you can barely recognise yourself. You sound so foreign to your own ears but, from the way Hyunjin's hips slightly jolt and he mutters a string of curses against your skin, he might be into this new state of fucked out you've managed to achieve.

You thought it couldn't be even intense, but then Hyunjin moves, and you're pretty sure your visions goes black at the edges for a few seconds. There's no way to tell who moans louder but, you both press your noises into each other's skin all the same. Your nails drag down his back so hard that you're briefly worried that you might have drawn blood.

"Baby," Hyunjin whimpers out, thrusting into you slowly and shallowly, barely satisfying either of you, "Baby, I need you to relax. I-I won't last if you don't."

His words only instinctively make you tighten around him, made all the worse since he's so deeply nestled of you. Your walls massaging him and generously coating him in your slick.

"I want it, Jinnie. I don't care, please," you don't know what's possessed you but, the realisation that he very really could fill you with his cum hits you like a train. You pull him even closer to you, "Fuck me all you want. Cum inside of me all you want. Breed me all you want, Jinnie."

Something broken and feral slips from his lips, his teeth ghost over your throat as he fucks into you without abandon. The sounds of your skin colliding and your respective sounds of pleasure echoing all throughout your living room, and probably throughout your entire apartment.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck my baby into you?" He grits out possesively, "Want me to make you swollen with my ba-baby and make you a mommy?"

"Please, yes, Jinnie," you moan, holding onto him for dear life as he seems determined to make his words a reality. Both of you completely lost in each other and delirious.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he moans against your shoulder in-between kisses that are more spit and tongue than anything else. "Fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up with my cum until it's leaking out of you for days. Gonna breed you so good," he slurs, his heavy pants joining the symphony of sounds currently playing through your living room. You're certain you'll have bruises on your hips in the morning but, you couldn't care less. You want it. You want it more than anything.

It's always easy to tell when Hyunjin is about to cum. Your boyfriend isn't exactly great at hiding his emotions, and from the increase in the frequency of curses and moans and the way he holds onto you, you know he's teetering on the edge. You are, too, if you're being honest, but you're more invested in him falling apart. A choked sob of your name is the only warning you receive before you feel his cock twitch inside of you incessantly and warmth flooding your awaiting pussy.

You're surprised to feel some wetness on your shoulder and, concern trumps any other emotion when you register that. Your hands reach to cup his face, a few stray tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

"Hey, Jinnie baby, is everything okay?"

It takes him a few moments to find the words to respond to you, and you rub your thumb soothing on his cheek while you wait for him patiently.

"I-I-I don't think I've e-ever cum so hard. It-It was really i-intense," he hiccups out, nuzzling into your grasp.

Oh.

Well, that puts the tears on his face into a very different light and, perhaps you've discovered another new thing about yourself today.

"I'm sorry. I got a little...out of control at the end there," he mutters, his face speeding from pink to red as he avoids your gaze studiously.

"Jinnie, you have nothing to apologise for," you tug him towards you and plant featherlight kisses on his cheek, "It was really fucking hot, if I'm being honest."

That only makes your boyfriend blush harder and seek refuge in your shoulder after groaning in embarrassment. The movement quickly reminds you that he's still very much inside of you right now and that his cum is slowly starting to trickle out of you but, you feel too boneless to even entertain the idea of getting up right now.

"I'm still surprised seeing me with a baby resulted in all of this," he says after his embarrassment subsides, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on your thigh.

"Wouldn't see me with a baby make you feel the same way?"

He seems to ponder on that for a little bit before replying, "Fair point. You know, when we do eventually have one of our own, I hope they have your eyes."

This stupid man and the way he makes your heart race.

"Well, I hope they have your eyes and your pouty lips and your dimples," you retort, feeling very, very shy all of a sudden as though this isn't happening because of you.

"We'll just have to have more than one then. You know, just to make sure they get all of the traits we want them to get," he has the nerve to grin at you.

"Hyunjin!" You cry, scandalised, warmth flooding your face. However, you can't deny that a bunch of children with his smile and kind eyes doesn't sound like the such a bad idea.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[shinynewboots]

Listen to your Heart: Adam x pregnant!reader

AN: Lol I enjoyed writing this wonderful prompt for @madmiriam! I wasn't sure exactly what direction I wanted to take with this but fluff felt the most appropriate (lol all it takes is one comment though for me to write a pt 2 with smut bc I lowkey can see the vision now). I hope y'all enjoy! The prompt kept getting away from me so I tried to reel it in as much as I could so please bear with me lol

Warnings/tags: Pregnancy, reader's death/graphic details (backstory), cursing, guilt, sickeningly sweet fluff, slice of life, no beta we die like Adam

Note: S1 and S2 refer to the heart sounds heard in a normal cardiac cycle (think lub, dub).

Part 2 (18+)

You had never given much thought to how your second "life" would turn out. Avoiding exorcists on extermination day? Sure, that was to be expected. Working the same job you had worked when you were alive? Eh, that made sense, the hospital you worked at when you were alive was basically hell on earth most days.

Falling pregnant with a fallen angel's baby? Absolutely not.

You had freaked out a bit at first when you found out. You had been a doctor for fuck's sake. You should have been smarter. Except for the whole "being dead thing", which you assumed meant reproduction was off the table. Which it was, in most cases. Except for—

"Angelic Sperm," Adam said when you told him you were pregnant.

"What?" Of all the things you had expected him to say, this was not it. You had expected him to grow angry or childish, as you had known him prone to doing.

"Angelic Sperm." He repeated again, giving you a curious look.

"Adam you can repeat that all you want but that doesn't mean I know what you're talking about."

"Angelic Sperm. I think that's the only way for a sinner to get pregnant in hell. I mean, think about it, Princess of Hell is technically half-angel, half-sinner. And you've got sinners fucking all the time without getting knocked up. Come on, Y/N, weren't you a doctor?"

Adam scratched his head in contemplation, taking in this new information. You looked over at him in anger.

"I tell you I'm pregnant and all you can talk about is sperm?"

Adam looks over at you, a calm look on his face. He takes you into his arms, more gently than he ever had, and pulled you close to him. He kissed the top of your heard, his lips lingering far longer than they normally would.

"I'm so fucking excited, Y/N."

And so now you found yourself 5 months pregnant in Hell. You had begun to wear baggy clothes to not show your swollen stomach. You couldn't imagine what some sinners or overlords would do if they found out there was actually a way to get pregnant in an otherwise barren wasteland.

Adam had been very attentive to you in your pregnant state. You still had to work at the local hospital, trying to get in as many shifts as possible before the birth. When you'd gotten of work, Adam would always have some kind of food craving awaiting you, and together you would rot on the couch until it was time for bed and the day to start all over again.

There was one such time of rotting that you had found yourself lying on the couch beside Adam, on of his hands dropped across your waist and a hand lightly holding your baby. Baby, which Adam had begun to affectionately call "Little Hellion", was kicking happily in against your bladder.

You grimaced at the sensation, your body tensing against Adam. Sensing your discomfort, he kissed your forehead and pulled you tight. "Living up to your name, Hellion."

"They get it from their dad," You replied, your breath becoming more even as Hellion decided to turn their kicking attention elsewhere. Adam rubbed circles around your stomach, which seemed to appease Hellion.

"What are we going to do about after? I can't even imagine trying to raise a child in Hell, constantly on edge even more than usual." You finally asked, a question burning in the pit of your stomach for months. Hell was no place for a child. Would the baby even age? Sinners stopped aging from the moment they died. The Princess of Hell aged, though slower than a human would, but you didn't know what that meant for your baby. And other sinners would notice if they aged. Questions would be asked...questions that would be dangerous to answer.

Adam sighed and ran a hand through his soft, brown hair. "I've been thinking about that too. I think we need to go to the hotel."

You turned to look at him, your brow furrowed. "The Hazbin Hotel? Where you got fucking murdered?"

Adam laughed without humor. "Fucking insane right? And it's such a lame-ass place. But, I have to think about my family. You and Hellion are my family now, Y/N."

Warmth spread throughout your chest, Adam's confession taking you by surprise. He was rarely so vulnerable with you, mostly choosing to hide behind his mask of bravado and masculinity. You smiled at him. Hellion seemed to approve of his words as well because you received a sharp kick in your side.

"I think we should try and see if Hell Princess' redemption plans are even worth a shit. And even if they aren't, she, or Hell forbid fucking Lucifer, might have a better shot at getting in contact with Heaven than I do."

"Heaven? You want us to try and get into Heaven?" You shivered at the thought. You felt...dirty. Unclean. Unworthy of redemption. You had been sent to Hell for a reason and felt you would always serve your sentence.

"We have to try everything, Y/N. I...I have to try everything." Adam looked desperate, his golden eyes shimmering in a way you had never seen.

Adam kissed your forehead and continued rubbing circles around your stomach. He began to softly sing a Rolling Stones song you couldn't remember the name of.

And that was how you found yourself at the front door of the Hazbin Hotel, face-to-face with Lucifer of all people.

"Ooh, not sure if there are any rooms left in the inn. Might have you stay in the stables. I'm sure we have a manger or two for your convenience."

"I'm sorry, are you seriously making a Jesus joke right now?" You deadpanned as you stared at the King of Hell with an unamused expression. You had a hand on your stomach and you could feel Adam tense beside you.

"Get the fuck out of our way, Morningstar, your kid told us she would meet us here."

"Daddd!" Charlie yelled, running closer to the group at the front door. "I told you to let me answer the door!"

Lucifer at least had the grace to look sheepish. He moved behind Charlie, who happily welcomed you and Adam inside.

She grinned at you as she led you both to your room. "Congratulations by the way! So sorry about my dad, he always likes to try and push Adam's buttons."

"Fucking pussy," Adam muttered. You shot him a glare. "Stay away from him as much as you can."

"And ugh, Congratulations by the way! Adam told me all about it when he came to meet with me about you both joining the hotel! This is so exciting! And we have so many crafts and exercises and —"

"Hey, one fucking step at at time, Princess." Adam interrupted, sensing you tense at Charlie's words.

Charlie nodded and looked at you apologetically. "Sorry, I just get a little over-excited! We are so happy to have you here."

You smiled up at her softly. "We really appreciate you for letting us come to the hotel."

*

That night, you both lay in bed in your new home as you began your paths of redemption. Your head was on Adam's chest and you listened to the constant beat of his heart. Listening to the beat of the heart or pulse had always had a calming effect on you, even when alive. S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

"Adam what if you get redeemed, and I—I don't. And I ruin everything. I don't deserve to be in Heaven."

"Why would fucking think that, Y/N. You deserve it more than anyone I know." He asked, his voice full of surprise.

"Because I killed someone!" You exclaimed, tears rolling down your eyes. "I was stupid and I killed someone and now I am meant to rot in Hell for all eternity. And I've damned our kid to this."

Adam wiped one of the tears that had begun to roll down your cheek. "And you don't think I have? Do you know how many sinners I've killed? Happily?"

"Adam, it's different."

"Try me."

You swallowed hard. "I was coming off of a 24-hour shift at the hospital. I was so tired. So fucking tired. And I knew better than to drive home. But my apartment was just 20 minutes away. And I thought it would be okay. I could have slept for an hour or two in the on-call room but I was so ready to get home."

Tears began streaming down your face at full force. Adam pulled you closer, surprisingly silent. "And then I fell asleep behind the wheel. I was only a mile from my house. I crashed into another car that had a mom and her kid in it. They died on impact. I was still alive, just barely, and bled out in my car before EMS could arrive."

"Y/N, you made a mistake. Fuck, I've made even more than that, definitely worse too."

"I just don't think I'm worthy of heaven."

Adam kissed your forehead and continued to hold you close. "Most of those fuckers who make it to Heaven aren't worth even half of you. You deserve Heaven. Shit, you owe it to yourself and Hellion to try."

"I'm just so scared Adam."

"I know. But we will take this one step at a time. Trust me, babe." He put a hand on your stomach. That had been one of his favorite things to do since the early days of your pregnancy. And Hellion seemed to know when their father was near, as you would get what you assumed were happy kicks in the direction of Adam's hand.

You nodded, cuddling in closer to him. One of his wings furled around you, creating a blanket for you and Hellion. You felt safe; warm. More so than you could remember feeling in a long time.

Everything would work itself out. And you and Adam would be redeemed just in time for Hellion to be born inside the pearly gates.

You found yourself focusing on Adam's heart once more.

S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

Everything would be okay. It had to be.

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty two | pjm

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS no use of gendered pronouns to refer to reader. consensual objectification. d/s dynamic. over the panty sex (is this just called dry humping?) fucktoy-ification? teasing. orgasm denial.

AN hi :) i'm so sorry i made you wait so long for this. it's been a rollercoaster these last two years, and i hope you can forgive me for my long absence. if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd love to hear from you: what stuck out to you, what you're hoping will happen in future chapters, or just how you've been. i've missed you. and, as always, thank you for reading <3

← || series m.list || →

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RULE BREAKER

You don’t talk or think much about your childhood. You like to imagine that when you turned eighteen those years whispered away into the ether of time, as irrelevant and dusty as the old photobook that stays on the shelf, eternally unopened. 

As a child, home was multiplied and many. It was the many places you lived, as you moved often, following your father around with his job. But it was also many in the sense that you learned at a young age that home didn’t have to be a place you lived. Home was between the worn and finger-marred pages of the books you fell in love with, home was the wisping scent of fresh (if not often burnt) pastry in your grandmother’s kitchen each time you visited, home was the place you yearned to travel to but never made the time to visit. 

But as you close the book in your hands, the words echo in your mind: 

Are you going to come home? 

You feel far away from home, even though you find a great deal of comfort in the walls of Namjoon’s mountain house. Ahem, mansion. Confusion riddles little holes of worry through you. Where is home, anyways? The small apartment you left empty in the city? The question opens a void in you. Why bother with home anyways? Sure, home could be anything if you tried hard enough, but couldn’t the opposite be true too? That if you tried hard enough, you wouldn’t need a home?

Still, void and all, the question nudges you. 

Unsettled, you clamber down the tree and make your way back towards the house. The sun has risen higher in the sky and breaks through the chill ever so slightly. Worried that you’ve just abandoned Jimin this morning and that he’ll wake up alone, you quicken your pace. You creak the door open, waving at Jungkook and Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen, who are huddled over the coffee, waiting for it to finish brewing. 

“A watched pot never boils,” you call out to them, noting that Jungkook looks a little cheerier than he had the past several days. Jin’s hand rests on Jungkook’s lower back and a little wave of joy jolts through you as the older man throws you a little smile. 

“Watching it actually makes it go faster,” Jungkook says, his eyes glued to the coffee. “A little motivation and encouragement always lends a helping hand.” 

You smile at that and continue making your way towards Jimin’s bedroom. You pass one room—a gym of sorts filled with a few cardio machines, a set of free weights, and a large mirror, and you’re surprised you didn’t notice it before—and pause. 

Namjoon is spotting Hoseok as the latter bench presses what looks like an unreasonably heavy weight. 

As you watch them, the dream from last night floods back to you. 

The music filtering through the night. The tightness of each man’s grip on you as they spun you through the ballroom, the floorboards creaking beneath you, the high of attention sitting heady in your chest. 

And too, you can’t forget, the way they stared at each other in single-minded competition, hackles raised, teeth gritted. You can’t forget the darkness that swirled at their feet, and you wonder too, if you’re letting your dream drift into the world of the living too.

But here they are, fondly smiling at one another. Had you made it all up? Well, of course you made it up. It was a regency-era dream for god's sake. But the tension? The competition? As Namjoon helps Hoseok lower the weights to the bar and hauls him to his feet, you’re sure it’s all in your head. 

“Nice, man,” Namjoon says, grinning and clasping Hoseok on the back. 

Before they see you, you continue on. Just as you’re about to open the door to the bedroom you’ve been searching for, it swings open before you. Jimin steps out. 

“Oh. You’re awake!” you say.

“I am indeed.” 

“I’m sorry I left this morning—“ 

“It’s okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice, a little dust mote of it that you catch. 

“I went to go read in a tree,” you offer quickly as an explanation, hoping it will make up for the disappointment of waking up alone after not spending a night together in a while. 

“In a tree?” 

“In a tree,” you confirm. 

He chuckles. “That seems like a good enough reason to abandon me. I gotta be honest though—“ He steps closer, lets his gaze flicker down, and toys with the hem of your shirt. “I was looking forward to waking up beside you.” 

“Were you?” you smile. 

“I was. I was even looking forward to potentially getting to wake you up.” He says it with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh? And how would you have woken me up?”

His hand drifts lower, beneath the band of your leggings. “You know, it’s really easier to show you, rather than tell you—” His hands pause. “What’s this?” Jimin sends you a knowing look. 

“What?” Your mind sputters as you struggle to come up with what he might be talking about. But he steps closer to you, a hand drifting down to your hips, a finger pulling your shirt up. With his other hand he plucks at the band of your panties. 

“This,” he emphasizes. 

“Oh.” 

You’d nearly forgotten the promise you’d made to Jimin. But now it all comes rushing back, how he’d made you promise in those early days in the house to forgo any underwear. At the time it’d been a silly dare, but the seriousness in his eyes makes you reconsider. 

“What? Do I have to remind you every day?” he says gently. “Or perhaps I haven’t been spending enough time around you, and you’ve forgotten your promise to me?”

“N-no,” you say. “I mean maybe. Maybe I want you around more.” You sidle up to him, running a finger up his chest. “Maybe… I want you to remind me.” 

Jimin steps closer to you, pressing you against the bedroom door. You gasp when he leans in close, close enough to kiss you, but doesn’t. 

“I think you forget too quickly that  I told you there’d be a punishment if you ‘forgot’ about our little rule.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you look at him. “What kind of punishment?” Panties or not, it seems like you win. 

“Like I mentioned earlier, I think I’d rather show you than explain it to you. Let’s just say I’m a hands-on kind of teacher.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he presses close, his lips a centimeter away from yours, his hands cupping your cheeks before wandering down to explore your body. You reach for him, struggle to bring his lips to yours, but he shifts his attention elsewhere, leaving you hanging. His hands rove over your body, his lips dip out of reach. So you change your plan of attack too. You let your hands wander over him. When you feel his breath quicken against you, you release him, dipping your head below his chin.

You glide your lips down Jimin’s neck, slow and intentional; a calculated move. You let your breath whisper against his skin, and you can’t help but think back to that night with Yoongi and Namjoon in which sensation—even the lightest of touches—had meant so much to you. To your body. You want to play Jimin like they played you. 

His hands tighten in your shirt, knuckles whitening. 

“Inside,” he gasps, and the desperation in his voice makes you think that he’s lost a bit of his fine-tuned control. His eyes are blown wide. He looks like he could eat you up. “Inside,” he repeats, but enacts the command himself as he pulls you through the door with him, making it sound a little more like a plea than you think he intends.

The pair of you tumble onto the bed, a mess of limbs and lips, teeth, hands. 

He captures your lips, finally, kissing you. The kiss is anything but gentle, nearing the edge of pain, his teeth knocking against yours, nipping at your lips. You groan into his mouth as his hips cant against you. 

It’s not long before he begins to tug at your clothes. 

Then he pauses, lifting your head from his lips. You’re sprawled atop him and you lift yourself up on your hands. 

“What?” you inquire curiously.

“I’m going to ask you to do something.” 

“Alright.”

With a leveled gaze, he says, “Strip.” 

He pushes you off of him, and you kneel at the foot of the bed, pausing a second, before making the executive decision to stand and undress. It’ll be more, well, graceful that way, you think. The alternative is flopping around on the sheets like a beached hammerhead shark trying to get your pants off. 

So you do as you’re told. There’s something about undressing before him, as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. There’s something about undressing for him, while he watches on, his gaze drinking you in that has sparks running through your body.

Slowly, slowly you slip off your top, and wiggle your leggings off your legs. You try to make it a little sexy, glancing up at him from time to time, to find that warm darkness swirling in his gaze that you love so much. You trip once, because you’re staring too much. 

“Keep the panties on,” he says when you go to pull them down.  

“Oh. Okay.”  Your brow furrows and you can’t help but let a little bit of the disappointment you’re feeling into your voice. You’re a little confused why he would ask you to keep them on when they were the problem that started all of this. 

He stands then, walking towards you. You hold your breath. He finally arrives before you and places his hands on your hips. His fingers toy with the trim of the panties, and goosebumps race along your skin from the delicate touch. 

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“You’ll see.” 

With that he hooks a finger under the band of your underwear and lets it snap against your skin. You cry out, more in surprise than anything else. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“No, not really.” 

“Good.” He grins. “Now, I want you to be honest.” 

“I’m always honest.” You correct yourself: “Most of the time. Most of the time I’m always honest.” 

Jimin chuckles at that. 

“Fair enough. But I need your most-of-the-time-always honesty now.” You nod, your hand drifting upward to grip his forearm. 

“Of course.” 

“I want to try something out with you. Something new.” 

“New?”

“A new kind of play.”

Your mind reels with the possibilities. What could he possibly suggest? Chastity kink? Tittyfucking? Technojizz? Ballcuzzi?  

“I want to use you like a toy,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you like a toy. I want to talk to you like a toy, treat you like one.” Your eyes widen when he says it. His eyes go wide too, drinking in your every microexpression, as he waits for you to respond. 

“A toy?” 

“Yes.”

“Where did this come from?” you say it with a little smile, and trace your finger along his jawline. He relaxes at the touch. 

“I saw the way you reacted during group play. When Jin was talking to you, saying things like, ‘You want to be our slut. You want to be our whore.’” Just hearing Jimin repeating Jin’s words sends a shiver through your body. “He didn’t say it like I would have said it, but I knew he wanted to.” He presses his lips to your ear while his hands rove over your body. “You want to be our toy, don’t you?”  

The answer is easy. “Yes.” 

“You want to be used by us, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He chuckles. “That’s what I thought. So tell me. Tell me what you want to be.” 

“I want to be your toy.” 

“Good.” He grins. 

He lets his hand drift down to your underwear again, fingers trailing along the inside the elastic hem before plucking at them once more. He seems to like the way you flinch. 

His fingers wander down your skin. He traces your hip, before flicking his fingers beneath the hem that circles your thigh. Slowly, he creeps closer to where you want his fingers most, but before he can touch you, he pulls his fingers away. You nearly groan, and a fleeting grimace crosses your face. Jimin catches it. 

“Patience would look so pretty on you,” he says, and the sting of his words is delightful. 

“Hmph.” 

His fingers continue to explore the thin piece of fabric that separates you from total nudity. They’re not a particularly pretty pair of underwear: they’re nothing more than a tan color brief. 

You say as much to Jimin, and tell him you wish you were wearing something sexier. Lace, maybe. Something black. 

“True,” he replies. “But you know why I like these?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can see you dripping through them.” 

You warm at the implication.   

“And when I push my cock against them, I’ll see me on them too. I’m a visual man, you know.” He kind of chuckles at that last bit, like it’s some sort of inside joke with himself. 

When he drops to his knees, like that first day in the forest with him, you gasp. Finally, finally, he’s going to touch you. 

But when his tongue presses against you through the fabric of your underwear, it’s only half the sensation you need from him. Still, it feels good, a gentle warmth spreading through your abdomen as he licks and presses against your clit and vulva. 

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you. 

“I’m—“ 

“You’ve soaked your panties through.” 

You warm at the thought, such little stimulation getting you so ready for him. You wonder if he’ll fuck you hard and fast or if he’ll take you sweet and slow. If he’ll take his time with you. Whatever he decides to do, you know you’ll be happy to have him fill you as you currently clench and tighten around nothing. It’s an empty feeling that sifts through you. 

When he’s thoroughly soaked your underwear with his mouth, he stands and kisses you. You can taste the ghost of yourself on him, and it reminds you of the smell of first summer light hitting the ground at dawn. A space when it is neither day, nor night, but some third plane of existence. Like that, in this moment, you feel like some third kind of creature. Neither yourself entirely, nor Jimin, but some other, third thing that you could only become in his presence. You can feel the shit-eating grin that glides across his lips and presses into yours as he walks backwards, leading you back to the bed. 

There’s something different, too, about all of this, about the way he kisses you today. There’s an edge of desperation, of frustration that you can taste on him. His movements are quicker, less languid. His lids are lidded. His breath comes quicker.  It’s delightful. 

But it’s also brand new. It feels like he has let a part of himself loose from under his usual state of control, and you wonder if your most recent conversation with your friends—where you discussed emotionality and feeling—had anything to do with what he was going through. What he wanted. 

An edge of anxiety tickles at your throat as you think of it. Does he want something more? 

He seems to notice your hesitation. 

“I just want you right now,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. He stops you at the edge of the bed, turns you so that the back of your knees hit the mattress.  You’re not sure if he’s a mind reader or what. 

You fall back into the bed, Jimin leading you down gently with a hand against your back until you sink into the soft bedding. You can’t help but giggle at the gentleness. Not that you have anything against it, but in this moment you feel anything but a toy. The way he looks at you makes you feel, well, precious. 

He breaks his gaze to kiss you again, tongue pressing against your lips. 

“Open up for me,” he says. “Like a good kitten—Like a good toy.” 

You do as you’ve been told, opening your mouth and letting him swirl his tongue through you, swiping at the roof of your mouth and sending tingles down your spine. 

His hands drift down your body before slipping beneath your panties. You glow, so eager for his touch, groaning as his fingers swipe against your clit. Just once. But as if he’s just realized a mistake he’s made, he rapidly pulls his hand out. 

“Oops. Got a little caught up.” 

You pout. “What, you’re not going to touch me like that? There? At all?” 

He pulls back enough to flick his gaze between your eyes and your lips. “Be a good toy and just do what you’re told.” 

“Oh?” The bratty part of you flickers and rises up.

He silences you with a kiss, his fingers circling around your clothed entrance before trying to press in through the thin fabric of your underwear. It’s like he’s trying to finger fuck you through the wet cotton, pushing it into you with his fingers. The pressure surely is something, but it’s not even a hint of enough, and you find your hips bucking up against him, seeking more attention, seeking more pressure. 

“So needy. So desperate.” 

He continues until the yearn within you aches.

“Stop playing,” you gasp. “Just give me your cock. Want you. Want your cock. I’ll be your toy, just–just use me like one.” 

“Don’t good toys say please?” 

“Please, sir.”

He freezes above you. 

“Sir?” 

“I—I… It just slipped out!” 

He grins. “I kinda like it.” He hums, as if contemplating it, then nods. “And since you’ve asked so nicely—“  

Jimin leans back enough to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, while the knot in your belly begins to recede. You sit up, eager to help him out of it, but he quickly swats your hands away. 

“Patience, kitten.” 

You don’t say it, but your crossed arms and pout say, “Fine, sir,”  loud and clear. He laughs at your expression. 

“Don’t you worry,” he says, tilting your chin up. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” 

He takes his cock out, stroking it once, twice, his hand gliding expertly over the soft and sensitive skin. 

“I’m going to use you like you’re good for.”

“Like I’m good for?” You echo, desperate for him. 

“All you’re good for,” he whispers in your ear and the words send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.  

With one hand, he takes your ankles and pushes them over your head.

“Hold them.” 

He then settles between your legs, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. With a movement that seems far too familiar to him, he slaps your pussy with his hard and dripping cock, and you groan. Fuck. 

Lowering himself to you, so your thighs press into his shoulders, he finally aligns his cock with your clothed vulva. 

And then with one careful movement, he grinds against you. The simple movement is enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

At first it’s slow, his cock pressing against your vulva in rhythmic pulses, your clit. At one point he pulls back and presses the head of his cock to your clothed entrance and presses in. 

You whine against him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He simply returns to continuing his thrusts. You’re just as wet as he is hard, soaking your panties, his precome painting them too. 

“Maybe I would have woken you up like this. Wouldn’t you have liked that? Waking up to my hard cock pressing against your clit, me ready to come, just from rutting against you? Wouldn’t that make you happy, to know how good you make me feel?”

You look down to where your bodies are pressed together. His cock rhythmically pokes up, the head dark and heavy. Sometimes though, the head of his cock gets stuck on your underwear, pushing the fabric higher and tighter around you. You groan at the sight. 

“Don’t you love how good you make me feel?”  

Your hips buck together, finding a desperate, shared rhythm. Your breath, too, matches up. 

For a moment, your eyes lock. All you can think about is how damn pretty he looks when he fucks, his dark hair falling into his face, his cheeks flushed, his plush lower lip caught between his teeth. And he looks back. 

But then his eyes flicker away from yours. 

He fucks you over your panties, murmuring how good of a toy you are for him, how he wishes he could fuck you properly, fill you up.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for more. “Fuck me.”

“When you behave,” he grunts. “I will.” Another thrust. “When you follow my rules, I will.” 

When he comes, he presses the head of his cock to your clit. You can feel it twitching against you as he groans and sighs, his come painting your panties white. 

With the head of his cock pressing so rhythmically against your clit, you’ve built up to a delicious pleasure, so close to coming. 

“Jimin, Jimin, I’m so close. Please.” Your hips tilt up, searching out the pleasure he keeps denying you. 

But Jimin just grins at you and sighs dramatically. His breath still comes a little quickly, he seems a little winded.  

“If only you hadn’t been so intent on misbehaving earlier. Maybe I could have let you come.” 

“Oh, come on,” you groan, about a second away from throwing your fists on the bed in proper tantrum form. “You’re in charge. You write the rules. Who said you can’t let me come?” 

“The rules I wrote say so, actually.” 

You huff. 

“Well then. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” 

In a swift action, Jimin leans over you, pinning your hands above your head. Your breath leaves your lungs in a quick gasp. 

“Wha—” 

“I think you know you’re not even supposed to be thinking about that, let alone doing it.” 

You tilt your head.

Jimin laughs, a hint of playful hardness in his voice. “Don’t you remember?” You shake your head. “You’re forgetting all of your promises today, aren’t you? Jin had you promise that you wouldn’t be coming unless it was because of one of us.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Shit. I forgot.” 

“I know you forgot.” 

You throw your head back and groan. “But I thought you said you’d always take care of me.” 

“I did. And I do. But sometimes it’s good for you to wait a little for your reward. Today you took your punishment—” He tilts your head up so you’re looking at him and the pout that had taken over your face fades a little. “And tomorrow, I’ll give you your reward.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine.”

“You think you can do that? Wait until tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh. 

“You’re so good for me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands glide down to your hips, dipping beneath the band and you think, oh, maybe he’ll do it now. But your hopes are quickly dashed when he tugs on them and says, “Maybe it was a good thing I had you wear these afterall.” He shimmies your come-stained underwear down your thighs. “Easy cleanup.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, always surprised when Jimin’s practical side pops out alongside his gregariousness. But he balls the panties up, and before tossing them into the laundry basket near the door, holds them up in his hand, shaking them, as if directing attention to them. 

 “I should remind you why I asked you to do this?” 

“I know why you asked me to. You liked the secret of it—?” You think back to what he had said to you, all those days ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago:

“I like walking around, knowing I’m the only one who has your sweetness on my tongue. I love talking to the others while getting to taste you still. Getting to remember the way you squirm underneath my touch. I do it because I want to.”

You still shiver, thinking of those words. But that had been before everyone knew about you and Jimin. 

“I did like the secret of it,” Jimin says, breaking through your reverie. “But there’s more than that, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. 

“There’s knowing you do it for me.” 

He grins, before strutting to the bathroom. You watch his ass as he goes. Plump, you think. When he returns, he’s cleaned up and still grinning. Mulling on what he’s said—”for me”—an image of all eight of you on the living room floor arises. What are the boundaries between one person and another with this set up? What are the lines? What is owed? Your head spins, and you settle into the pillow. You’re still humming in the sensation of your dwindling pleasure, receding far away from your orgasm, and you sigh. 

“If the only way people are going to punish one another around here is by giving them blue balls, I’m going to get tired reeeeal quick,” you murmur to yourself.

“Is that so?” Jimin says from behind you as he collects your clothes. “If that’s the case, we better start coming up with new forms of punishment.” 

“Yes, maybe you should,” you say, mock-grouchily. 

“I’ll start thinking up new and innovative ways. Maybe I’ll consult Jin—he seems creative when it comes to this stuff—especially if you’re going to be so quick to forget what you promised him.” He helps you into your clothes again, but remains naked himself. 

“But—” 

“No buts.” He seals your silence with a kiss. “Just do what you’re told.” The statement stings through you like a bolt of electricity. As much as you hate to admit it, you love when he tells you what to do. Even if you love fighting against it just as much. “You know why you should do what you’re told?” He continues, as he kisses down your throat.

“Why?” 

“Because then I can reward you. I can make you come again and again until you’re crying to stop, or hold you at the edge long enough that when you’re finally ready to tip over, it’s the best fucking orgasm in your whole life.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you saying you’re the best fuck of my life?” 

“No. Not yet. But I can be.” He pulls away from you enough to see the shit-eating grin on your face. 

“I think some of your friends might fight you for that position.” 

“Maybe they should.” 

“Maybe they should what?” a voice comes from the door. 

“Hoseok—” 

Hoseok stands in the doorway, a confused look on his face. You imagine what he must be seeing, a naked Jimin in bed, and you, now entirely naked, too, now that Jimin stripped you of your panties, tangled up in each other. 

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok asks. 

“Do you really want to know?” Jimin asks.

“Um. Not really.” Then his gaze focuses on you. He lingers on your face, reading you, trying to figure you out. But then he catches himself. “Uh, maybe I should come back later.” 

“No!” you say, perhaps a little too eagerly, sitting up. “What is it?” 

“I just was looking for you,” Hoseok says, a little shyly. “I was hoping to steal you away.”  

“Let me get dressed.” 

You stand up, and pull your clothes back on, noting how Hoseok’s gaze flickers to you just in time to see you pull on your leggings without any panties on underneath.  

Jimin sits up quickly, pulling a pillow over his crotch for the sake of Hoseok’s modesty. “Just so you know—if you’re going to go together—I already said that if someone was going to wear panties that someone wasn’t going to be able to come.” He turns to you. “So don’t you go running off to lover boy, thinking you can get your rocks off.” Jimin turns his attention back to Hobi. “This one is very much not allowed to come. At least for the rest of the day.” 

Hoseok coughs. 

“Oh, I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t presuming.” 

“Yes you were, asshole,” Jimin laughs. “We’re all presuming.” 

Hoseok flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears at the implication, but you find it charming. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok says.

You glance at Jimin, who leans back with his hands laced behind his head. He looks like the perfect image of relaxation and… is that pride? There’s a soft smile curving at the corner of his lip, a kind of jesting smirk. 

“Go on,” Jimin says. “I’m already taken care of.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Asshole.” 

But you stand and make your way to Hoseok nonetheless. 

“You have time?” he asks.

“I have all the time in the world.” 

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[formulawolff]

celebratory drinks - f.a.

pairing: journalist!reader x aston martin!fernando alonso

word count: 938

warnings: a little bit of cursing, nando being a flirt, alcohol use (the champagne pop), references to alcohol consumption

song inspo for the fic: sky walker (feat. travis scott) by miguel, travis scott (i just think this one is so nando coded)

"there he is," your voice is clear, yet your hand trembles as you grasp the microphone, "i think now is my moment. there's no one else approaching him."

"well what are you waiting for?" camren, your trusty videographer and assistant whispers, "go, go, go get him!"

"okay, okay!" your jaw clenches, the words barely making it out of gritted teeth.

before you stands spanish driver fernando alonso, donned in his signature aston martin fire suit. it's gorgeous emerald hue is darker than usual, dampened by the champagne showers. his dark locks are dripping, sticking to the back of his neck underneath his cap.

yet, he's as gorgeous as ever, stubble ghosting along his jawline, his brows knit in concentration as he speaks with lance stroll, his fellow driver and teammate.

you take a step forward, swallowing the lump in your throat. it was now or never. the perfect window to interview him for only a few minutes before he would be whisked away to the designated media room for the post-race press debrief.

"mr. alonso!" you call, "is it all right if i speak with you for a few minutes? i won't take up too much of your time."

at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curl upward into a radiant grin, "of course! i'm in no rush, actually. you can stall me a little before i have to go debrief."

a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you tap your badge, "although i do have a media badge, i do want let you know that this is going to be a very relaxed, very informal interview. i run a youtube channel that covers all things formula one. we talk a lot about you, actually."

"oh?" he arches a brow, "is that right?"

heat billows into your cheeks as you realize what you just blurted out. in front of one of your idols, no less. yet, you don't sense discomfort from the driver. if anything, he seemed more intrigued, his eyes taking you in as you sucked in a breath.

"well, we're doing a bit about your history with formula one," your voice is tad shaky, but you regain your confidence as he nods enthusiastically, "and of course, we're currently covering your time with aston martin. so, i wanted you to tell me if there was anything unique about your experience with aston martin thus far."

the driver blinks, processing your question for a moment. he brings a hand to his chin, shrugging slightly, "i think i can say that this team has been able to welcome me in with open arms. i'm sure you know that there is a lot of talk in the world of formula one with my age and all that, but they have been nothing but accepting and supportive."

"what has been your favorite moment of the season thus far? anything exciting or funny you'd like to share with us? also, when are you going to bring back that infamous celebratory dance?"

at the mention of the dance, there's a glimmer in his eye, "oh, so you know about that?"

"of course i do," you affirm, "our channel is dedicated to the history of formula one. i'm supposed to know it all, from the historical wins to the celebration dances."

"i can recreate it for you if you would like," he offers, his shoulders relaxing, he points to the camera, earning a laugh from camren, "here, watch this."

he pinches his shoulder blades together, raising his arms so that his elbows and wrists were angled. he sways back and forth, maintaining eye contact with the camera lens.

you can't help but laugh, the sound ringing out, "you're pretty ridiculous, mr. alonso."

"please," fernando waves a hand, "no need for the formalities bullshit. call me fernando."

"all right, fernando," you beam, "well, i think that's all i have for you. i didn't want to keep you for too long. i know you're a busy man."

that's when the driver pauses, taking a second to really look at you. his gaze rakes over your body, his tongue swiping along your lower lip.

for the race, you opted for a comfortable yet sort of glam look. on your top half, you sported a plain black t-shirt, the material a breathable cotton. denim jeans stretched down your legs, a mom-jean like style so that the thick fabric didn't cling to your frame. to compliment the shirt, you wore a black belt, pairing it with black adidas sambas. your hair was pulled into an updo, so that it wouldn't be all over the place or unkempt from the breezy conditions.

"you can come interview me whenever you would like," his tone shifts, his voice a little lower than it was moments before, "actually, how come you didn't question me sooner? i would've loved to see your gorgeous face around the paddock."

"like i said," your heart skips a beat, "you're a busy man, fernando."

"not busy enough for a gorgeous woman like you," he flirts, and you were sure your knees buckled at the statement, "what are you doing later?"

your eyes drift over to camren, who luckily had paused the recording, "i'm not too sure, why?"

"because i would love to take you out and buy you a couple of shots. to celebrate, you know."

"you're the one who was on the podium. if anything, i should be the one buying you shots," you fold your arms across your chest.

"oh no," he shakes his head, "no need."

"and why is that?" your brows furrow.

"because beautiful women don't buy their own drinks."

[gumycandyyy]

Heyo I'm here to request that Male Reader x Winter King you wanted-

Anyways, can you write for a male Reader that used to be Simon and Betty's friend before the crown and the Mushroom War, who randomly shows up in the Land of Ooo? As in, Simon thought that they had died a long time ago, alongside Betty, but the Reader had survived through some odd means and got reunited with him?

Lol, if that's too much, then I'm sorry. It could be a fic or Headcanons, whichever you prefer!

⠂"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴏʟᴅ."⠐

⠂"ᴡᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ."⠐

AHJFHJGSKHA HOW DID YOU KNOW I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT SIMON?? I LOVE THIS WET CAT.

Winter King actually isn't this one, because I wanted to focus on Fionna and Cake ver. Simon

Male reader

Platonic/Romantic (I'm leaving it ambiguous, because I mean, c'mon. It's Simon.)

Type: Headcanons (With a drabble and oneshot mixed in)

Summary: An old friend shows up after a bunch of time-related shenanigans, and is finally ready to settle back down in Ooo. Though this sudden happening is quite a shock to Simon.

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

-You used to be an old family friend of Betty's, and met Simon through her.

-Y'all were really close, and they invited you over for dinner every other weekend.

-But one day, you just...

-Vanished.

-Everyone thought you were kidnapped, and Simon and Betty were heartbroken.

-However...

-Through some odd means, you were kept alive for a thousand years.

-It all started one weird day when you bought a little doodad from a garage sale.

-the next thing you knew, you were in a big yellow cube with a pink wall guy.

-Apparently the little thing you bought was an item from another universe, and it was janking up Ooo.

-Aaaaand technically you just committed a serious crime by purchasing the little thing.

-And whether intentional or not, you now had to go on trial for this little accident. You tried to explain what happened, but you were found guilty.

-You were sentenced to a thousand years in some donked up time jail.

-Apparently, you wouldn't age in there, and a thousand years would pass on Ooo before you were set free.

-It was the worst thing that could've ever happened to you.

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

-The time jail kept you from losing your sanity, and a thousand years later, you were released.

-You were teleported back to Ooo, which looked quite different than how you remembered it.

-It felt like an eternity since you've seen rolling green hills and a clear blue sky. An eternity since you've breathed familiar air.

-You heard something, about a hundred yards from you.

-You approached the loud noises to see some buff dude with a sick beard and robotic arm beating up some one-eyed monster.

-He punched the creature, and it was sent flying towards you.

-You ducked, and the dude noticed you.

"Ah, sorry man! Didn't see you there!"

-You assured him it was nothing.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

You shook your head, then blinked confusedly. Well, technically you were. It had just been 1000 years. You tried to get your story straight, then told the guy.

"Woah, so does that mean you're technically a time traveler?"

You shrugged. Time travel hadn't been proven yet, has it? You weren't sure. You asked the guy his name, so you didn't have to refer to him as just 'the guy.'

"Oh, yeah. Name's Finn. Good ol' Finn the H."

"The H.?"

"Y'know, the Human?"

But you were human too. With all due respect, you asked him about his strange surname.

"Oh, uh.. My real last name is Mertens, but I like 'the Human' better. It's only recently other humans have started living in Ooo. So I'm kinda seen as 'that one human' y'know?"

You nodded, trying to make sense of what he said. what had happened that caused humans to leave Ooo? How was that even possible?

The two of you talked for a short while, and you learned a little bit about Ooo. You were used to knowing a lot, but you barely even recognized this place.

"Oh, you're from the 20th century, right?"

You nodded.

"I've got a friend from then, maybe you'd like to meet him? He's one cool dude."

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

-You agreed politely, wondering if this 20th century man would help you adjust to life in whatever century this was. What century was this anyway? 30-something?

-Finn ended up taking you to a scrappy little bar filled with people that looked to be made out of candy.

"Anything you'd like to order?"

"Nothing for me, Dirt Beer Guy. Maybe he'd like one, but we're just waiting for-"

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

"Simon?"

You stared in disbelief at the face of your old friend, who looked at you with the same expression. He was carrying something under his arm, but he dropped it in shock.

"No way, you know him? That's awesome!"

Simon slowly walked up to you, as if afraid you'd disappear at any second. Tears welled up in the both of your eyes, and you had to suppress breaking down right there. It hadn't occurred to you that this 20th century man could've been Simon, but now that you were seeing him, you realized you subconsciously wished it would be him.

He spoke your name softly, not much more than a whisper, as if anything louder would cause reality to shatter, or one of you to wake up from a dream.

"You... You're really here, aren't you?"

You nodded softly, not daring to say a word. Tears spilled out of your eyes, and Finn looked slightly confused.

"Do you guys, uh.... Wanna step out for a minute?"

You agreed, still quietly, saying it would probably be better to not make a scene. Finn gave you a thumbs up and shooed you out, saying he'd wait for you when you got back inside.

You stepped out of the little bar with Simon, realizing it got dark out while you were inside.

"So..."

"How about we take a walk?"

You nodded, falling into step with Simon as you walked into a nice little forest. The small stream rushing by provided ambient noise.

"How are you here..?"

Simon asked, with an air of disbelief. He blinked, wiping his glasses and rubbing his eyes. As if you'd disappear once he'd open them. You explained what happened, and suddenly gasped.

"If you're here, that means Betty must be here too, right? Where is she?"

Simon sighed, bringing his arms up to hold himself.

"She's..."

"She's not."

You decided not to pry, but you couldn't help but notice the sinking feeling in your gut. She was one of your best friends, and she was gone. But she was Simon's fiancee. It must have hit him harder, whatever happened to her. You'd ask later, when the emotional turmoil between the two of you wasn't so fresh.

You walked in peaceful silence between the two of you, listening to the sounds of the stream, or chirping crickets.

You took that time to study Simon, how his appearance changed, and things that stayed the same.

Same fashion sense,

same goofy circle glasses,

even the same walk you remember.

There was a white streak in his hair now.

Wrinkles on his face.

Something about him just seemed so...

Sad.

"You've gotten old."

Simon smiled, though it seemed bitter.

"We both have."

"I missed you, Simon. Not a day went by that I didn't think of you, Betty, or any of our other friends."

Simon stopped walking, and you copied. He seemed as if he was about to cry again. To be honest, you were too. Talking about all of this while looking him in the face didn't fare well for your emotional state.

He took off his glasses, wiping at his eyes. Simon smiled bitterly through it though. He seemed to be so lonely. You wondered where he lived now.

". . ."

He wiped his eyes again, then looked straight at you with an unwavering gaze.

"You have no idea how much we missed you. Even years after you disappeared, we still looked. Even when the police failed, we still-"

He inhaled sharply, breath shaking. He turned his head away, as if ashamed of his emotions.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to provide comfort. Simon suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pressing his face into your shoulder. You returned the embrace, holding onto him just as tightly.

Simon's breath shook, and you softly rubbed his back. You had no idea what he's gone through, and you were genuinely unsure whether you were helping or not.

"Simon..?"

His grip on you loosened, and he looked up at you.

You said nothing else, but you gently rested your forehead on his. He sniffed, then took a deep breath. Your hands fell to his waist, while his rested on your shoulders. Simon closed his eyes, cherishing this small bit of comfort.

After a few moments, Simon pulled away, bringing his fist up to his mouth and clearing his throat.

"W- well, today was certainly... Eventful."

You laughed softly, agreeing with his remark. The two of you walked back to the little bar, realizing you'd gotten farther from it than you thought you did.

Simon cleared his throat yet again, once you reached the outside of the bar.

"Yeah, Simon?"

He thought for a moment, then spoke.

". . .Thank you."

⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂

Thanks for reading! I absolutely loved writing this, and Simon needs a hug.

Your complimentary artwork ^^

reblog for a beginner writer?

[agentstarkid]

ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU ✦ DR3

✦ DEBRIEF: Amid the vibrant energy of a New Year's Eve party, chance encounters led to unexpected connections where captivating eyes, a charming accent, and a carefree personality were all she needed to be forever enchanted by his presence.

✦ PAIRINGS: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 7.3K words

✦ TRACK LIMITS: female!reader, latina!reader, fluff, really sappy thoughts, there's a nine-year age gap.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: holis babes! i'm back with another attempt at writing! the last chapters were angsty and i needed a lil bit of equilibrium so please enjoy reading how the night they met went. Y'all can thank Tally for it <3 + FYI, the next chapter is nowhere being finished yet—this is a little treat for y'all because of that— this past month has been crazy at my job and the chia seeds' harvest season starts in June so I'm not sure how much time—or energy—I'll have. I'd probably be a bit absent but I'll try my best to keep this show going. Also, can you guys find all the references? 👀 PLEASEEEE let me know what you think of this. 'kay, byeee.

< previous chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist | next chapter >

December 31st, 2019 | 6:27 p.m.

As the world buzzed with excitement in anticipation of the approaching New Year, with its promises of new beginnings and fresh starts, I found myself yearning for something different. While others eagerly made plans for extravagant celebrations and wild parties, my heart longed for the simple comforts of home. The allure of crowded festivities and glittering fireworks paled in comparison to the warmth of my own cozy sanctuary, where I could embrace solitude. In a world that seems to thrive on noise and commotion, all I desired was the quiet embrace of familiarity and peace.

Despite my steadfast resolve to stay home, I found myself facing relentless persuasion from a certain Dutch DJ, my long-time friend Martin Garrix. His invitations to join him at a New Year's Eve party in New York, where he was scheduled to perform, grew more insistent with each passing week. Not content to pursue this endeavor alone —and knowing he wouldn’t be able to win this battle by himself—, Martin enlisted the help of my closest confidantes—Fio, my ever-reliable personal assistant; Vittoria, the vivacious soul who never shies away from adventure; and Danna, the wise and grounding presence in our lives.

You'd think that at 21, with a career that keeps reaching new heights everyday, I'd be excited to join those types of celebrations.

Nuh-uh.

Years ago, the prospect of attending a high-profile party filled with celebrities and socialites would have thrilled me beyond measure. Back then, I reveled in the glamour and excitement, relishing the chance to mingle with the elite and bask in the spotlight.

Furthermore, the aftermath of my final breakup with Harry —after two years together and the last year of it being on-and-off— had left me feeling disillusioned and wary of the intentions of those around me. Once the darling of the celebrity circuit, I now found myself excluded from the inner circles I once frequented, my invitations to exclusive events dried up almost overnight. It's a harsh reality I had to come to terms with, one that has left me questioning the true nature of the friendships I once held so dear.

With Martin's persistent pleas ringing in my ears, I gathered my resolve and attempted to explain my desire for a quiet evening in. “Guys, I really appreciate the effort, but I just want to stay home tonight,” I insisted, sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch. “I've been looking forward to a High School Musical marathon all week.”

Fio, my fiery assistant, raised an incredulous eyebrow. “High School Musical? Are you serious, chica? This is New Year's Eve! Yo lo que quiero es que salgas a janguear patabajo y pasarla de show. You can watch Zac Efron dance any other night!” Hailing from the sun-kissed shores of Puerto Rico, she wore her heritage proudly, her voice ringed out with the rhythmic cadence of her native land.

Vittoria, the true embodiment of Brazilian beauty and spirit with her sun-kissed complexion and luminous smile, chimed in with a playful grin. “Yeah, fofinha, come on! You can even ask Martin to play ‘The Start of Something Newʼ if it pleases you,” she grabbed my left hand between both of hers and tugged at it, “We can dance and sing along to Zac Efron together at the party!” she exclaimed, shaking my arm excitedly. 

Well... I could definitely ask Martin to play it, he'd probably say yes in a heartbeat if it meant I would cave in and go to this party. After all, he's been awfully insistent on my attendance. 

Danna, the 23-year-old American with an effortless grace and quiet confidence, offered a gentle smile. “I understand wanting a cozy night in, but trust me, you'll regret missing out on this party. It'll be a night to remember.” she punned with a wink and smiled when Vitto offered her an enthusiastically high five. Vitto sometimes reminded me of a puppy with an impressive amount of energy and excitement, always prompting me to try and keep up with her and leave my comfort zone.

Despite their protests, I remained steadfast in my decision. There was no way I was moving from this couch. “Thanks, guys, but I'm sticking to my plan. You all go ahead and have fun without me.” However, I was but a simple human surrounded by three forces of nature and it was super clear that my friends had other ideas and soon they were bustling around me, pulling me off the couch and insisting I get ready for the night ahead.

Reluctantly, I allowed the girls to coax me off the couch and into action. With Fio's enthusiastic energy, Vittoria's impeccable sense of style, and Danna's calming presence, they transformed my quiet night in into a whirlwind of preparation for the party.

Fio rummaged through my closet, pulling out a stunning short dress made with net-woven high-end silver jewelry that would—quoting her—help highlight and show mi sazón latino among the precious stones, while Vittoria offered her expert opinion on the perfect outfit. “Uff mami, that definitely screams ‘New Year's Eve glam’!” she declared, holding up the sparkling ensemble that catched the light just right. 

Meanwhile, Danna took charge of my hair and makeup, opting for a soft, glamorous look. “You're going to turn heads tonight, babes,” she assured me, brushing a hint of shimmer onto my cheeks. 

Despite my initial resistance, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement as I watched my reflection transform before my eyes.

“Who knows, babes,” Danna paused, carefully applying a nude shade gloss to my lips. “Maybe you’ll find your own Troy Bolton tonight, and have your own The Start of Something New moment” she wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

“You are on a roll tonight with the puns and references, aren’t you Dannita?” Fio peeked out her head from inside my closet and asked jokingly, letting out a laugh while she ducked from a damp sponge lightheartedly tossed her way by Danna.

“Nossa, cara! Você parece uma deusa!” Vitto exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. (Wow, dude! You look like a goddess!)

A blush crept up my cheeks at her compliment, and I turned to Danna with a grateful smile. “Seriously, Danni, you've outdone yourself,” I praised her, marveling at her skill in transforming me for the evening. “Thank you for making me feel like royalty.”

With a modest smile, Danna accepted my gratitude, her eyes shining with pride at the success of her handiwork. And then, just as the last finishing touches were being applied, she posed the inevitable question: “So, what are your New Year's resolutions?”

With a playful grin, I shrugged, the weight of the question settling over me like a familiar cloak. “I think this year,” I replied, my voice tinged with determination, “I just want to have fun and focus on myself. No boys, no drama, just me.” It was a simple resolution, yet one that carried a weight of significance, a commitment to prioritize my own happiness and well-being above all else.

As I sat there, unaware of their subtle exchange, the girls exchanged knowing glances and smiles, a silent understanding passing between them. Little did I know, they had orchestrated this moment with a shared knowledge of Martin's plans for the evening.

After I was allowed to rose from my seat, I grabbed and put on the large hoops and a set of very discreet rings that Vitto opted for, she explained to me that the expensive design I was wearing ‘perfectly adorned my tanned skin in such a way that I did not need almost any other accessory to elevate the look to its maximum potential’. 

As I waited for the girls to finish getting ready, I idly scrolled through my WhatsApp contacts' status updates, seeking a distraction from the anticipation bubbling inside me. My mom uploaded a video showing all the food they had cooked for dinner. A homesick feeling hit me even if I just came back from spending two weeks at home. Next, Martin’s status showed up on my screen, he posted a photo showcasing his DJ set getting set up for the party. I tapped on his name and took a quick selfie flipping him off playfully and sent it, he didn’t take long to respond with “Does this mean I won?” followed by two pairs of eyes emoji. “Yes” I answered, also followed with the rolling eyes emoji. 

I scrolled through a couple others, when I stumbled upon Selena’s. She posted a selfie all dolled up with her friends and pinned New York City as her location which piqued my curiosity. I composed a brief message, my fingers dancing over the keys as I typed out a casual inquiry about her plans for New Year's Eve in NYC. A response appeared on my screen moments later, “Hey girl! We’re actually heading to a party at The Bowery Hotel. What about you?” a smile tugged at the corners of my lips as excitement coursed through my body, I haven’t seen Sel in a while! We’ve been friends for years and she was one of the few people that was always there to lend me an ear and words of advice whenever I went through a rough patch in my life. “No way! That's where we’re going too! Maybe we'll bump into each other!”

“That’s awesome!!!!! I'll keep an eye out for you. See you there!” she replied. I let out a little happy sigh and shook my head. With my friends by my side, laughter filling the room, I began to anticipate the night ahead with a newfound sense of anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, this New Year's Eve won't be so bad after all.

Unbeknownst to the singer, Martin's persistent efforts to persuade her to attend the party were driven by a secret agenda. For months, he has harbored a hidden desire to introduce her to a friend of his, in the hopes of sparking a connection between them. Despite Martin's best intentions, his attempts to orchestrate their meeting have thus far been thwarted by her obliviousness to his matchmaking schemes.

After receiving the confirmation that the first part of his plan had been successful, Martin discreetly sent a text message to his friend, informing him of her attendance. “She's finally agreed to come,” he typed, a hint of excitement evident in his words. “Be ready to charm her off her feet.”

On a different hotel floor, a 5'10'' curly-haired Aussie’s mind raced with possibilities, wondering who this mystery woman could be.

With a shrug, he tapped out a quick reply, his fingers flying over the keys as he crafted a response. “Sounds intriguing,” he typed, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. “Looking forward to meeting her. Just hope I can keep up with your high expectations mate!” As he hit send, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that lingered in the air.

Daniel's phone buzzed again with a response from Martin, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the playful banter that ensued. “Oh, don't worry,” Martin's message read, “I have complete faith in you. Just be yourself, that’s all you need”

Daniel grinned at his friend's confidence. Despite not knowing much about this mysterious woman, he couldn't deny the thrill of anticipation that coursed through his veins. With a sense of determination, he resolved to make the most of this opportunity, determined to leave a lasting impression on whoever this enigmatic figure turned out to be.

Little did he know, this chance encounter would set the stage for a fateful meeting that would change the course of his life in ways he never could have imagined.

As the sleek black car pulled up to the curb outside The Bowery Hotel, the pulsating energy of New York City's nightlife enveloped us like a warm embrace. Stepping out onto the bustling sidewalk, we were greeted by the soft glow of string lights and the distant hum of music drifting from the rooftop above.

Linking arms, we made our way through the elegant lobby of the hotel, the click of our heels echoing against the polished marble floors. Excitement crackled in the air as we rode the elevator to the top floor, anticipation mounting with each passing moment.

As the doors slid open to reveal the rooftop terrace bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, we were met with a breathtaking view of the city skyline glittering against the night sky. The sound of laughter and conversation filled the air, mingling with the infectious beat of the music that pulsed through the crowd.

We stepped out onto the terrace and navigated through the crowd, the scent of champagne and laughter filled the air; our eyes alight with wonder as we took in the scene before us. The air was alive with the hum of excitement for the new year ahead.

Finding a secluded corner of the rooftop, I paused and craned my neck in search of the blond responsible for me being away from my cozy apartment that night. I spotted him talking with some people near where his set was set up. When our eyes met, he waved enthusiastically, his excitement palpable even from a distance.

Exchanging quick pleasantries, Martin excused himself from the group he was chatting with, his strides purposeful as he made his way towards our little circle. With a grin that could light up the entire city, Martin reached our group, his charismatic presence immediately drawing us in. “Ladies, you look stunning tonight,” he greeted us with a cheeky smile on his face, “and well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teased, his voice laced with playful banter as he directed his attention towards me.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes in mock exasperation, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. “I had four people ganging up on me, Martin, I couldn't exactly resist for long” I replied, my tone teasing as I shot him a playful glare.

Martin chuckled, his laughter infectious as he leaned in to give me a playful nudge. “That's what I like to hear! Now, let's show you what you almost missed by being a grumpy old lady tonight,” he exclaimed, his enthusiasm contagious as he gestured towards the bustling rooftop party surrounding us.

Half an hour later, Daniel made his way through the vibrant crowd, his eyes scanning the faces around him, he caught sight of Martin amidst the sea of revelers. With a nod of recognition, he approached his friend, a curious glint in his eyes. 

Martin turned towards him with a grin, anticipation dancing in his eyes. “Hey! What’s up, mate?” he gave him a quick hug. “She's already here," Martin exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement.

Daniel's interest was piqued, and he glanced around the crowded rooftop, searching for any indication of who Martin was referring to. “Oh, really?” Daniel replied, his curiosity evident in his tone.

Martin nodded eagerly, but instead of gesturing towards our group, he simply smiled mysteriously. “Yep, but I'll introduce you later. Duty calls,” he said with a shrug, gesturing towards the stage where he was needed.

Daniel's brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but he simply nodded in understanding as Martin hurried off to fulfill his obligations. 

Martin's cryptic reply intrigued Daniel, sparking his curiosity further. He decided not to dwell on it for too long. With a shrug, he turned his attention back to the lively atmosphere of the party, eager to enjoy the night ahead. As he mingled with his friends, his thoughts occasionally drifted back to Martin's enigmatic words, wondering who exactly the DJ was referring to and what significance they held. But for now, he was content to simply soak in the excitement of the moment and let the night unfold as it may.

As Daniel's gaze lazily scanned the room, it landed on a group of vibrant individuals, among whom stood a figure that instantly commanded his attention. His eyes locked onto hers, and he felt a jolt of electricity course through him as their gazes met. In that fleeting moment, the noise of the party faded into the background, and all he could focus on was the captivating presence of the woman before him. Despite the nagging reminder of his supposed obligation to meet someone else, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her, his curiosity piqued and his interest unmistakably piqued.

Throughout the night, I found myself engaged in conversation with Selena and both of our friend groups, along with a few others who had approached us. However, the initial excitement I had felt was beginning to wane as my social battery ran low. I forced laughter and plastered on fake smiles as the people around us tried to create conversation, drawn to us for our status and connections rather than genuine friendship. My walls were up and I couldn’t help but be filled with nostalgia for the days when I effortlessly navigated the social whirlwind. God knows how I was able to endure all that, but now, that shiny façade of fame no longer held the appeal it once had. My eyes kept shifting around the multitude, trying to find an escape in the midst of the bustling party. Martin had to leave us after a while to greet other people that I’m sure he also invited. And now he was on the stage making sure everything was ready for the show, so that ruled him out of the equation. 

I found myself wishing I could channel Fio's bold attitude, and just tell all these phonies to go pal’ carajo. She had this undeniable strength and fearlessness about her that I envied. I couldn't imagine myself possessing even a fraction of her confidence. Yet, all of these thoughts melted away when my gaze landed on his face across the rooftop.

In that moment, it felt as though the chaos around me dissipated, leaving only him in sharp focus. Our eyes met, and a smile graced his lips, instantly captivating me. There was something magnetic about him, an inexplicable allure that drew me in without a word spoken.

His smile held a warmth that felt achingly familiar, as if we shared some unspoken connection that transcended the bounds of time and place. With each passing moment, his gaze seemed to deepen, as though delving into the depths of my soul with a silent question: “Have we met before?” It was a question that echoed in the recesses of my mind, sparking a curiosity that I couldn't shake.

As I stood there, locked in this wordless exchange, I couldn't help but wonder about the secrets hidden behind those piercing eyes. Despite the throng of people around us, it felt as though we were the only two souls in the room, bound together by an invisible thread of fate.

Suddenly, his silhouette cut through the crowd, moving with purpose and determination. With each step he took, my heart quickened its pace, anticipation rising in tandem with the rhythm of my pulse. The air crackled with a silent energy and I found myself holding my breath caught in the gravity of his presence. The distance between us narrowed, until finally, he stood before me, his eyes locking onto mine with a magnetic intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

As he extended his hand towards me, a rush of warmth flooded through me, tingling at the touch of his skin against mine. “Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and resonant, sending a ripple of anticipation coursing through me. “I'm Daniel.” His name rolled off his tongue with a certain charm and a twinge of an accent, and I couldn't help but feel drawn to him even more. 

“Hi” I managed to say, attempting to regain my composure. “I'm Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a hint of curiosity. “Lovely name for a lovely lady.”

I could feel my cheeks flush at his compliment. “Thanks,” I replied, trying to play it cool. The spell broke for a moment as he suddenly realized that there was a group of people staring at him, his own cheeks seemed to redden for a second but he recovered fast and greeted them with a radiant smile. I couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with such effortless charm. The realization sinked in that this wasn't just any charming stranger – holy shit, this was Daniel Ricciardo, the Formula 1 driver. 

A playful glint danced in his eyes as his eyes drifted back to me, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His easy charm catched me off guard, and I found myself blushing involuntarily. I stole a quick glance at my friends, who shot me knowing looks, clearly amused by my reaction. It's as if they could read my mind, teasing me silently. 

Okay Y/N, keep your cool. He is just a dude, I thought as I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. He is a gorgeous, smoking hot dude with a megawatt smile who smells wonderful. ¡Agh, mierda!. 

Yeah, I was fucked. I guessed it was time to put those acting skills to use.

“So, Daniel, what brings you to this fabulous party?” I tilted my head as I asked, I prayed it came out in a flirty but nonchalant way and not in a way that revealed the nervous flutter in my stomach. Daniel grinned, his gaze lingered on me. “Well, a friend insisted that I come, said it was going to be the party of the year. And, I must say, meeting someone as captivating as you was an unexpected bonus.”

A light blush spreaded across my cheeks at his words, and I glanced away momentarily, trying to regain my composure. “Flattery will get you everywhere, won't it?”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I certainly hope so.”

I chuckled, trying to play it cool. “Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?”

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Challenge accepted,” he replied, leaning in closer. With a playful smirk, he asked, “But first, would you like to grab a drink?”

The playful exchange between us continued as we made our way towards the bar, the atmosphere around us seemingly faded into the background as we became engrossed in each other's company.

Our playful banter flowed effortlessly, each quip and witty remark met with a matching response from the other. It's like we were in our own little world, oblivious to the party swirling around us as we exchanged jokes and anecdotes. There's something about him that feels like coming home, yet I know we've never crossed paths before. His genuine smile and easygoing demeanor put me at ease, and I found myself opening up to him more than I had in a long time. 

We both paused to stare at the DJ in his element, the corners of my mouth turned up when the Dutchy’s words ringed in my head: I almost missed this by being a grumpy old lady. I glanced over to find him already fixated on me, he smiled at me softly and a soft flutter danced in the pit of my stomach as I caught his eyes lingering on my lips. Was it just my imagination, or did the air around us suddenly crackle with an electric charge?

I tried to keep my tone light, “So, what's been the highlight of your evening so far?”

“If you’d asked me this about two hours ago I’d say the good vibes and great company,” he replied smoothly, his gaze never leaving mine. “But now that I've found you, I think I've found the best part of the evening.”

“Oh, stop it,” I chuckled, feeling my cheeks warm further.

“I mean it,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. “You've got this magnetic energy about you. I couldn't resist coming over to say hi.”

I felt a flutter in my stomach at his words. “Well, I'm glad you did,” I replied, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “It's nice to meet someone genuine at a party like this.”

Daniel grinned, leaning in a little closer. “Tell me about it. Most people here seem more interested in flashing cameras and rubbing elbows with celebrities than having a real conversation.”

I nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief wash over me that he felt the same way. “Exactly. It's refreshing to find someone who values authenticity.”

His smile widened. “Well, authenticity is my middle name,” he quipped, earning a laugh from me.

“Is it really?” I teased back, raising an eyebrow playfully.

He chuckled softly. “Not quite, but close enough,” he replied. The sound of his laughter was like music to my ears, washing over me in gentle waves. I couldn't help but smile in return, feeling a warmth spread through me at the sight of his genuine amusement. There was something so effortlessly charming about him, something that made it impossible not to be drawn to him.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Martin, from his place behind his console, grabbed the microphone, sending a burst of excitement through the crowd. The music softened, and all eyes turned towards him, eager to hear what he had to say. With a smile, he leaned into the mic.

“Alright, everyone! Get ready, because we're about to kick off the countdown to the new year!” his voice boomed over the speakers, igniting cheers and applause.

Daniel and I exchanged surprised glances, realizing how swiftly time had slipped away during our conversation. A sheepish grin spread across our faces as we chuckled at the realization.

“Wow, can you believe it?” Daniel exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I replied, “I know, right? It feels like we just got here!”

But despite our astonishment, there was an undeniable excitement in the air as we eagerly awaited the start of the countdown. Time may have slipped away unnoticed, but we were more than ready to welcome the new year with open arms.

With the pulsating energy of the crowd and the anticipation building up, Martin's announcement seemed to mark a pivotal moment in the night. It was as if time paused for just a brief moment, allowing us to reflect on the year gone by and the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the countdown began, the atmosphere on the terrace grew electric. Each second ticking by felt charged with anticipation, drawing us closer to the threshold of a new beginning. Daniel and I joined in with the crowd, counting down in unison as the numbers on the screen dwindled.

“Ten!... Nine!... Eight!” The voices around us echoed, filling the place with excitement and joy.

As the final seconds ticked away before the stroke of midnight, I stole a moment to scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of revelers. My gaze locked onto Fio, Vitto, and Danna, who were huddled together nearby. Fio, ever perceptive, caught my gaze first. With a playful nudge to Vitto and Danna, she directed their attention towards me, and they turned in unison, their eyes met mine with knowing looks and a mischievous grin spread across their faces.

With playful antics, they puckered their lips in exaggerated kissy faces, teasing me in a lighthearted manner. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at their antics, a light blush tinting my cheeks in response to their jovial teasing.

Amidst the playful exchange, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. I wondered, for just a moment, if perhaps Daniel, standing closer than before, was considering the same playful gesture. But before I could dwell on the thought, the clock struck midnight, and the room erupted into cheers and celebration.

As the cheers filled the air, Daniel and I turned to each other with shy smiles, caught up in the infectious excitement of the moment. “Happy New Year,” we said simultaneously, our voices barely audible above the din of the crowd.

For a brief moment, there was a subtle shift in the air, a silent pause that seemed to linger between us. In that fleeting instant, it felt as if time slowed down, and I found myself meeting Daniel's gaze, our eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

There was a palpable tension, a delicate balance hanging in the air, as if both of us were teetering on the edge of something unspoken. In that moment, it seemed as though Daniel might lean in, his movements tentative and hesitant, as if contemplating a gesture that could change everything.

Was he gonna kiss me? Oh, I wouldn’t be mad if he stole a kiss. 

Or several.

But then, just as quickly as the moment had arisen, it passed. With a soft smile and a gentle nod, Daniel seemed to reconsider, pulling back slightly as if to preserve the moment's delicate equilibrium. And in that simple gesture, the unspoken understanding between us remained.

As the moment hung in the air between Daniel and me, on the brink of something uncertain, the sounds of joyous screams suddenly pierced through the atmosphere, drawing our attention away.

Before I could fully process what was happening, I felt warm arms wrap around me, pulling me into an exuberant embrace. It was the girls, Fio, Vitto, and Danna, their laughter mingling with the cheers of the crowd as they enveloped me in their enthusiastic greeting.

"Happy New Year!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with genuine warmth and excitement.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the timing of their arrival, grateful for the distraction from the almost-kiss tension that had begun to linger between Daniel and me. With their infectious energy and playful banter, they effortlessly diffused the slight awkwardness that had threatened to overshadow the moment.

As we exchanged hugs and well wishes, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for their timely intervention. In their presence, the lingering tension dissipated, replaced by a sense of sisterhood and shared joy.

And as we laughed and celebrated together, I couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps some moments were meant to be savored, not rushed. Whatever the future held for Daniel and me, I knew that in that moment, I was exactly where I was meant to be.

With infectious enthusiasm, the girls dragged me towards the terrace railings, eager to get a better view of the fireworks illuminating the night sky. Laughing and chatting animatedly, we leaned against the railing, our eyes fixed on the colorful explosions lighting up the darkness.

As we marveled at the spectacle unfolding before us, Daniel excused himself with a smile, promising to join us in just a moment. I watched him disappear into the crowd, his easy charm drawing smiles and greetings from everyone he came across.

Alone for a brief moment amidst the excitement of the celebration, I took a deep breath, allowing myself to soak in the energy of the night. The air was alive with anticipation, the promise of new beginnings hanging in the air like a tangible presence.

And as the fireworks continued to paint the sky with bursts of color and light, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the moments shared with friends, old and new. In that fleeting moment of tranquility, amidst the chaos of the celebration, I found solace in the knowledge that no matter where life took us, our bonds would always endure, guiding us through the highs and lows of the journey ahead. I felt grateful to call these incredible women my friends. And as the last remnants of the fireworks faded into the night, I turned to raise my glass in a toast with the girls following, my heart full with the promise of the new year ahead.

Just as I turned back to try and catch a glimpse of a certain Aussie in the crowd, Daniel appeared at my side with a warm smile. His eyes sparkled with the residual excitement of the celebration, and his easygoing demeanor put me at ease.

“Hey there,” he greeted me, his voice carrying over the lingering echoes of the fireworks. “Did you enjoy the show?”

I returned his smile with a nod, the exhilaration of the moment still coursing through my veins. “It was amazing,” I replied, my voice filled with genuine awe. “I can't believe how quickly the year flew by.”

Daniel chuckled softly, his gaze drifting towards the horizon where the last traces of the fireworks faded into the darkness. “Yeah, 2019 feels like it was yesterday,” he quipped, a playful twist to his words.

I couldn't help but laugh at his silly joke, shaking my head in amusement. Despite its simplicity, his humor didn’t fail to bring a smile to my face. And as my laughter echoed into the night, I noticed Daniel's own smile widening, his eyes alight with infectious joy.

As my laughter subsided, Daniel's eyes softened, his gaze lingering on me with a warmth that sent a flutter through my chest. In the soft glow of the terrace lights, his features seemed to soften, his smile taking on a tender quality.

“You know,” he began, his voice gentle, “you look absolutely beautiful under the firework lights.”

A blush rose to my cheeks at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through me at the unexpected compliment. It was a simple gesture, but it carried a weight of sincerity that touched me deeply.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, but filled with genuine appreciation.

Daniel's gaze held mine for a moment longer, his expression softening even further as he had the purest beam of light on his face that made my heart melt.  “Actually,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you outshine even the fireworks themselves.”

A surprised chuckle escaped my lips, and I could feel my cheeks flush with a warmth that spread from his endearing words. His unexpected compliment caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless.

It was such a simple yet profoundly sweet sentiment, and it took me by surprise in the best possible way.

As Daniel's sweet words lingered in the air, a comfortable silence settled between us, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the continuing celebration. It was a couple minutes after midnight, and there were already a couple resolutions broken.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly at the thought, the warmth of Daniel's presence enveloping me like a comforting embrace. Despite the inevitable imperfections of the past year, there was a sense of hope and possibility lingering in the air for this new one, a reminder that every moment held the potential for growth and renewal.

We continued to chat and laugh as we made our way to one of the high tables to continue our conversation in a more comfortable setting. Martin even made an appearance, greeting us with his usual kind and friendly attitude. A shit-eating grin adorned his face as he saw us talking. He inconspicuously winked at me which prompted me to affectionately roll my eyes. 

Okay Martin, I get it, you were right...again. 

But one curious thing happened when Martin approached. I noticed a flicker of apology in Daniel's eyes, a subtle shift in his demeanor that caught my attention. Confused, I glanced at him, wondering what had prompted this sudden change. It wasn't until much later that I would come to understand the reason behind his apologetic expression.

Unbeknownst to me, Daniel had misunderstood Martin's intentions, believing that the girl he had spoken to him about was someone else entirely. In his mind, there was no connection between Martin's matchmaking scheme and the girl he had been conversing with all along—me.

And so, we were unaware of the intricate web of plans and schemes being woven around us. Little did I know, the seeds of something special had already been planted, waiting to bloom and blossom in the days and weeks to come.

A while later, one of the waiters passed by, weaving through the crowd. Seizing the opportunity, Daniel called out to him, “Excuse me, do you have a pen?”

The waiter nodded and swiftly produced one, handing it over with a friendly smile. Once he left, Daniel grabbed a napkin from the table and quickly sketched out a tic-tac-toe grid with the pen. With a mischievous grin, he declared, “Let's make a deal. If I win, you have to give me your number.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his spontaneous challenge, the playful glint in his eyes infectious. “Alright, you're on,” I replied, picking up the pen to make my first move. 

“But,” I paused with a smirk. I raised an eyebrow at Daniel, unable to suppress a playful grin. “What do I get if I win?” I challenged him, my tone teasing and light. 

Daniel's lips curled into a flirtatious smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well,” he replied, leaning in closer with a playful glint in his eyes, “if you win, you get my number instead.”

His response elicited another laugh from me, the playful banter adding to the already vibrant energy between us. With a nod of agreement, I made my move, determined to give him a run for his money.

However, despite my best efforts, Daniel proved to be a formidable opponent—athletes do tend to have another level of competitiveness after all, even with the smallest and silliest things—, and before I knew it, he had emerged victorious, marking the final square with a triumphant flourish.

With a mock sigh of defeat, I conceded, acknowledging his win with good humor. “Alright, you got me,” I chuckled, conceding to his victory. “Looks like I owe you my number.”

With a pleased smile he passed me his phone. As I began typing my number into Daniel's phone, focused on the task at hand, I felt a sudden movement beside me. Glancing up, I saw Daniel grab another napkin, his expression mischievous as he quickly scribbled something onto it. 

Curious, I watched as he slid the napkin across the table towards me. My eyes widened in surprise as I read the words written in his handwriting: “You are cute.”

A warmth spread through me at his unexpected gesture, a rush of flattered excitement tingling in my veins. With a playful smile, I looked up to meet his gaze, my heart fluttering with anticipation.

“Smooth move,” I teased, unable to hide the smile that danced on my lips. “But I think you've already won me over with your charm.”

As I finished adding my number to his phone, I slid it back across the table towards him. With a grin, Daniel accepted his phone back, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction at my response. “Can't blame a bloke for trying,” he quipped, his tone light and playful. 

The playful energy between us only seemed to intensify and I found myself drawn further into the magnetic pull of Daniel's presence, captivated by his whiskey-colored eyes that held a depth that seemed to unravel the secrets of the universe. And when he spoke, his Australian accent danced with a melodic cadence that resonated deep within my soul, infusing every word with a warmth and charm that was impossible to resist.

But it wasn't just his accent that captivated me—it was his carefree personality, his easygoing demeanor that made every moment feel effortless and free. He laughed with abandon, his infectious joy spreading like wildfire and igniting a spark of laughter within me.

And then there were his hands, expressive and animated as he spoke, each gesture painting a vivid picture of his thoughts and emotions. It was as if his hands had a language of their own, weaving tales of adventures that left me hanging on his every word.

Just as the party was reaching its peak and the energy in the room soared, one of the girls came up to me with a sense of urgency in her expression. “Hey babes, we need to head out already,” she informed me, a hint of regret in her voice.

My heart sank at the sudden announcement, realizing the abrupt end to the evening's festivities. With a mixture of disappointment and resignation, I turned to Daniel, silently conveying my apologies with a glance.

“I'm sorry, but Vitto's had a bit too much to drink,” Danna explained, her tone apologetic as she gestured towards our intoxicated companion. “We need to get her home.”

There was a flicker of disappointment in Daniel's eyes, mirrored by my own sense of frustration at the untimely interruption.

With a sympathetic smile, Daniel nodded in understanding, his expression reflecting a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. “Of course, safety first,” he replied, his voice filled with empathy. “Take care, and hopefully, we'll see each other again soon.”

As I exchanged final farewells with Daniel, a pang of regret lingered in the air, accompanied by the bittersweet realization that our time together had been cut short. Yet, amidst the disappointment, there was a glimmer of hope, a silent promise of future encounters.

With a nod of gratitude, I turned to join my friends. And as I reached the girls, I couldn't help but sigh softly, my concern for Vitto mixing with a hint of amusement. “Ay, Vitto,” I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief at how quickly she had managed to get drunk in just an hour.

Vitto, in her intoxicated state, offered a drunken apology and let out a soft laugh, her carefree demeanor infectious. “Sorry,” she slurred, her words accompanied by a playful giggle.

I couldn't help but smile at her antics, reassured by her good spirits despite the unexpected turn of events. “It's okay,” I assured her, placing an arm around her shoulder. “Let's get you home safely.”

As I turned to leave, I couldn't resist stealing a last glimpse back at Daniel. To my surprise, I found him still staring at me, his smile widening as he waved goodbye. A rush of warmth flooded through me at the sight.

On our way home, the girls couldn't resist teasing me about Daniel, joking about how we had spent the whole night together. Their playful banter only served to deepen my blush, fueling the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. The city lights blurred into a mosaic of colors outside the car window and the laughter of the girls faded into the background as I found myself lost in the memory of Daniel's captivating smile, the warmth of his gaze still lingering in the corners of my mind.

I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something truly special about that smile, something that lingered long after the party had ended and the night had grown quiet. To me, it wasn't just any smile—it was warm, genuine, and filled with an undeniable spark that seemed to reach straight into my soul. It was a smile that spoke volumes, conveying a sense of understanding, a twinge of mischief, and unspoken promise that left me breathless with anticipation.

With a soft sigh, I couldn't help but reflect on the serendipitous twist of fate that had brought us together tonight. In that brief moment of connection, amidst the music and laughter, I had felt a spark of something special—a connection that defied explanation and left me yearning for more.

And as I stared out into the night, the city lights twinkling like stars in the darkness, I knew that I would carry the memory of that encounter with me forever. In that moment, meeting him felt like a spell had been cast upon me, capturing my heart in an instant.

The thought made a soft smile tug at the corners of my lips, my heart fluttering with the anticipation of what the future might hold.

At the end of the night, all I knew was, 

Daniel, I was enchanted to meet you.

[journen]

do you have a list of good CoD fanfics, or favorite writers in general?? <3

Presented in no particular order, here are some of my personal faves / fics I really enjoyed, and my own summaries for them. Hopefully you enjoy, thanks for the ask, anon!!!

I didn't tag all the authors because I'm not sure if they all have tumblrs, but also I'm shy tagging people ahjdfhkaheje. If any authors here are mentioned tho and you have a tumblr, feel free to lmk and I can update this post to include your tag!!:)

Anything rated mature I colour coded the name in red, and anything explicit green. Not all the mature fics feature smut, but yeah! I didn't want to link anything tooooo explicit here, but if anyone wants any, I can definitely rb this post to add a few more 😅

Also, just beware the tags on any of these fics because some feature kind of heavy subject matter. 👍

COF FIC REC LIST:

A Very MacTavish Christmas - @m3rrywe4ther

Prob my fav fic in the fandom lololol. HUGE RECCOMMEND. It's about Johnny who gets roped into spending the holiday Christmas season with his , for the most part, very not so nice family, and Simon accompanies him. So much stuff happens in this fic and it's such a great character exploration of Simon and Johnny independently, but also as a couple, and just so much stuff happens in it lol again, HUGE RECOMMEND!!!

We'll make Death Proud to Take us - Literal_Satan

Fic where, it starts off really sweet where Simon goes to Scotland with Johnny to spend Christmas with him and his family, but things take a drastic turn when Soap's brother, a police officer/detective, gets a little too curious about mysterious Simon, and the story spirals from there. All the guys end up on this crazy goose chase tracking down some of the people who were involved in Roba's brainwashing operations. The fic gets v dark at times and deals with some very heavy trauma so beware, but it's SO. GOOD.

Dream a Little Dream - Angelicasdean

Again, one of my total fav fics in the fandom!! AU where Simon leaves the army to raise his nephew Joseph, who's the sole survivor of the Riley family massacre, and Johnny is one of the daycare teachers at the daycare where Simon takes Jo 🥺🥺👍👍

Pretend to love me like I do - FetteEule

Really cute fic of Simon who accompanied Johnny to Scotland for his sister's wedding, under the ruse they are dating. They are v much pining but not there yet. Features lots of really cute domestic moments and Simon being really sweet to Johnny's kid nephew 😭🧡

Something important - Anonymous

One of the fics that has me totally brainrotted rn. It's about Simon's who's been de-aged to 6 years old, and Price, Gaz and Soap all taking care of him and trying to figure out how he got turned, and how to turn him back! They all get tested on their abilities to care for a child, and unwillingly learn a lot of details about Simon's childhood they never knew. This summary doesn't do it justice tho, so I'd just recommend checking it out! Beware tho again, there is some dark childhood trauma stuff but there are warnings at the start of each chapter that contains references to it.

Seasons - StinglessWasp

In this fic every chapter is set during a different season and tells a unique sort of story/mission/interaction Soap and Ghost have. Definitely some v good angst&hurt/comfort stuffs too. Starts off pre-relationship, and explores their characters a lot! It's just really good HUGE reccommend lol.

What the Eyes Don't see - WhiplashRogue

One of my FAVESSSS! So the premise is like, Soap can actually see ghosts ever since he was a child (which most other people can't see and also don't believe in), and Ghost has 2 spirits attached to him that follow him around(Joseph, and Roach). The fic starts off pre relationship, and it mostly about Soap trying to learn more about these two spirits and discovering more about Ghost's past.

All that's said in the Low Light - Headlocket

Probably one of the most emotional I've ever read LMFAO. It's about Johnny, who receives a back & knee injury bad enough he gets discharged from the army, and is back in Scotland living with his parents as he recovers. He and Ghost lost contact a bit since the accident, and it's sort of a story of them reconnecting. This description doesn't do it justice, just read it, but it will emotionally destroy you lol

Time Loops Suck (series) - Enter_fand0m_reference00

The first installment of the fic takes the idea that Soap is stuck in a time loop during the alone mission! And all the optional dialogues and interactions in thE alone mission are separate attempts of his trying to survive the loops and rendez vous with Ghost. It's just sooo good!! And then there's a follow up fic where it deals with the mental aftermath of the loops and Ghost comforting soap through it, then there's 2 other installments of Simon who instead goes through a time loop! They are such great character explorations in how both Soap and Ghost experience the loops, and I whooleee heartedly reccommend.

Yellow Card - SkerryB

Soccer au fic!! It's so good! Simon is the captain of a soccer team Soap is drafted to as their new goalie. Simon has had a history with Soap before though, that he was the only goalie Simon could never score on! So that's how it starts, and it's just so good from there!! Simon's family are also alive in the fic and his nephew is adorable.

You swept me off my feet - @ghoulishhone

Ghost is down bad for strong Soap, the fic xD This was a fic Ghoulishone and I were paired together to work on for the Ghostsoap server reverse bang! They wrote the fic and I made some accompanying art. Just a cute fic of Soap having to pick up Ghost after he gets injured and some other shenanigans that ensues:)

Dear Mr Ghost - @shortcuts-make-long-delays

SUCH A CUTE FIC!! The majority of the fic is these letter/pen pal exchanges between Ghost, and Soap's young niece Chloe...it's just. So. Good. And was written by a friend of mine too! BIG RECCOMMEND.

Give me Hope and Let me Down - MechanicalBones

Some of the best Ghost whump I read lolll. Ghost is captured by some people with ties to Roba and tortured. Meanwhile Soap is on his way to rescue him, and eventually he does, and there's a lot of hurt and comfort. It's also a getting together fic. 🥺

Unspoken Love - Hammy101

( Super amazing oneshot. I feel I can't do this fic justice with any summary. Just read it. 🥺 It has decent Ghost whump AND domestic off duty cute ghost soap angsty stuff it's just one of my faves ever!!!!)

Except You, You can Stay - Iravaid

Really realistic, believable portrayal and expansion upon a lot of the key events that happen in the Ghost comics. From his childhood, to the mental aftermath of Roba, his family dying...it's heavy but really really good. And has a happier hopeful ending that's Ghost/Soap 🥺

Hat Trick of the Heart and the sequel Family, Gotta Love em - Librarian_FanFicFan

Absolutely am obsessed with these fics!!! It's an AU about Ghost who is recently discharged from the military due to injury, and on a flight back to London where he is seated next to Soap, a famous footballer/soccer player. Ghost doesn't know who he is tho, but they hit it off and exchange numbers. The second installment features Simon's family!!! And Tommy being dramatic and shocked over the fact his brother got the number of this famous sports player... SUPER CUTE IF YOU LIKE RILEY FAMILY STUFF.

As for my fav CoD authors I wholeheartedly recommend anything by:

RedClegane, m3rrywe4ther, Hammy101, TheEdwardianOne, Iravaid, and so many authors but I can't list them all ahaha...but hopefully this is a good start!

Hopefully this helps anon! Sorry it took me a while.