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shibaraki · 11 months

Text

AN OBSERVER OF LONGING ┊ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

synopsis: with a few days remaining, the five of you run from Tooru and Hajime's impending departure for a little longer—and tackle some unearthed feelings along the way.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, childhood best friends to lovers, romantic + sexual tension, mutual pining, a lot of casual physical affection, sharing a bed, angst + fluff, masturbation, festivals, alcohol consumption (everyone) + smoking (makki), yay love confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, eventual smut, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (reader rec.)

wc: 18K

↳ written in three days while in my feels and on new medication: for the komorebi collab hosted by yours truly lmao ↰

Like most impulsive plans it stemmed from a tipsy throwaway comment. Ruddy cheeks, the warm, honey tinge of whiskey on his breath, Hajime’s lips came loose.

“We should go somewhere together,” he’d said, ensconced by the booth cushions. Your gaze met meaningfully across the table, half lidded and dopey. Even as Issei’s arm wrestled its way around his neck and jostled him, wrangled him closer with the promise of teasing, Hajime had not looked away from you.

“Oh! Let’s rent a little bus, like in the movies. That’s a cute idea,” Tooru enthused, inflection slurred by the warmth of his liquor. “Hajime, who knew you could be so cute?”

“Hajime has always been cute,” Issei drawled, eyes gleaming as his knuckles successfully rub back and forth over Hajime’s skull, even as the man squirms against it. “But you’re both leaving again soon. We can’t go far, or for long”.

It had been pure luck that Tooru and Hajime managed to synchronise their brief visit home in the first place. You think that they might’ve even conspired to match their flight times as close as humanly possible, just so they could find one another in the airport upon arrival.

“Now look. Poor ‘kawa,” Takahiro strummed his finger over Tooru’s puckered bottom lip, pink and plush as it bounces back. “Quick. Tell him he’s cuter before he starts crying”.

And just like that, the drink-addled idea passed. You, however, let it marinate in the morning that followed. Knowing that it was Hajime who suggested it felt significant. He’s the quiet sentimental type. With both his and Tooru’s upcoming departures you had fully expected to be inundated with their company—savouring the remaining time you had left, never quite touching on the topic, still too tender for the three of you. It surprised you. A trip felt final. Another last hurrah. The tying of loose ends, to separate on a good note.

Ultimately you decided to forward a link to an article detailing different overnight itineraries and festivals to the group chat with hopes of bringing it to fruition. Now you found yourself standing beside Hajime’s car under an early eventide in a pair of old sweatpants too long at the ankle and listening to them bicker, wondering why you ever got the ball rolling.

Phone, check. Keys, check. ID, check. Wallet, check. Overnight bag—

You glare down at the offending object propped on the ground beside your feet. A good twenty minutes of your frantic afternoon had been spent trying to zip the thing shut. Check.

“But Hajime, the otter cafe!”

Tooru yelps, and you glance up in time to watch as Iwaizumi jostles and loosens his grip, “No. We don’t have time. We’re sticking to the plan".

“Are those even ethical?” Issei wonders under his breath, bending at your side to lift the case and ignoring your weak protests. It’s handed off to Hajime with ease, and you allow yourself a brief appreciative glimpse of the muscle flexing under his fitted shirt.

You shake your head, full of mirth as you call to him, “Tooru”.

The sinking sun is crowning his head in a dewy flare. Tooru looks up from Hajime’s back and the halo slips, highlighting the hidden wispy strands of ginger by his temples. Balmed lips pouted, his brow arched in question.

“Stop fussing and sit with me”.

The curiosity smooths out and he looks increasingly pleased at the request. It lasts a few sweet moments, broken by the smug uptick of his mouth. Tooru grins, “Of course you want to sit next to me. I’m your favourite after all”.

Years of repetitive back and forth taught you that arguing that point was futile. With a fond eye roll, you reach across in his approach to pinch at his bicep. “Just get in the car before I change my mind,” you say.

You duck in to sit beside Tooru as he scrambles for the window seat. Hajime is angled toward you while he fiddles with the centre console, a muscled arm wrapped around the headrest, deliberately waiting for you to meet his gaze. When you do, he mouths the words, “Thank you”.

From the minute you met there’d always been something there. Maybe it was pheromonic, the way you know something is right the instant you find it; or maybe it was the chubby, six year old hands that plucked the cicada shell from your hair one summer morning. Presque vu, years spent waiting on the tip of your tongue. It doesn’t escape you that this might be the last chance to do anything about it.

You’re shaken from your reverie when the car rocks on its axles. Issei throws himself into the far right passenger seat beside you with a heavy sigh. Broad shoulders push you closer into Tooru, thighs pressed together and feet parted awkwardly on either side of the rear suspension.

Takahiro excitedly clambers in the front with an energy drink in hand, uncapped, earning an indignant shout from Hajime when he slams the door with too much force.

“Oi—!”

You grin as he struggles to dodge Hajime’s successive smacks. “Alright, alright! I’m sorry, be nice!”

“I told you already, it's my dad’s car. That means no tracking dirt, no spilling anything, and no smoking inside. Capiche?”

“Aye-aye,” Issei drones, knuckles grazing your hip where he fastens his seatbelt. There is little space, yet it is oddly comforting. Tooru snorts, slumping until a head of unkempt brown hair rests heavily against your shoulder, tilting briefly to nuzzle your jaw.

The radio switches on automatically as the engine starts, an initial splutter tapering off into a gentle hum. You reciprocate Tooru’s affection and rub your cheek over his crown, inhaling the familiar scent of coconut milk shampoo. He takes your weight without complaint, and when Issei leans forward to receive a sip of Takahiro’s energy drink, your knees knock together.

Hakone was the chosen destination, thanks to a local festival taking place tomorrow. Of the five of you, Hajime is the best driver in terms of navigation and road knowledge. Issei is a close second. Both Tooru and Takahiro got their licences for the sake of convenience, but you doubt they could make their way around a clockwise roundabout without crying.

Takahiro whoops, his hand thudding in line with the beat on the car roof, “Road trip!”

The scenery becomes less and less familiar, turning onto streets you do not recognise. Heading west out of Tokyo toward the Chuo Expressway, it isn’t until a passenger window is opened and a gust billows into the car that you shake the final dregs of sleep. Tooru’s hair is whipping in the wind as Hajime reaches for the radio and switches channels, bass vibrating through the speakers.

Reality sets in like a slow simmer and excitement buzzes under your skin as the giddiness swells. You lean forward, cheek squashed unflatteringly to the back of the driver's seat, and paw at Hajime’s arm.

“Turn it up, Haji”.

Above the road ahead is a large blue sign detailing directions to Lake Kawaguchi—a purposeful detour, for the sake of acting like tourists. There’s a spot with a perfect view of Mount Fuji. Despite having lived only a forty minute ride from Tokyo, you can’t say you’d ever thought to look at it outside of a postcard.

It’s nice to step into the shoes of another. View the country through a less acclimated lense. You’re taken through winding roads that thread between verdant mountains; entrenched by nature, only to be thrown out into the open as the foliage breaks.

Lake Kawaguchi greets you brightly, the sunset surface glittering across a vast horizon. You are yelling harmoniously with Takahiro as it comes into view. Issei’s phone is already pressed against the window, scenery rolling across the camera screen as he repeatedly taps his thumb to recalibrate the focus.

“I can hear you laughing at me,” he casts a suspicious look over his shoulder.

You grin, “You’re such an old man”.

“We’ll park just up here. There’s a good spot for pictures down by the bank,” Hajime says, the heel of his hand flat to the wheel as it turns left. “Not too far to walk. Pretty sure there’s a cafe just nearby, too”.

You watch his reflection in the rear view mirror, admiring the soft crinkles by his eyes. His mouth isn’t visible but you know he’s smiling. Issei bumps his knee into yours—again. Simultaneously, Tooru bends make quiet kissing noises against your ear. Swatting them isn’t justice enough, and threatening to throw them out of the moving vehicle only makes them snicker.

The car park is entirely deserted and unmonitored, surrounded by brush. No line markings or need for payment, just a part of the ground carved out and filled with gravel that crunches beneath the tires as it displaces. Cruising toward the far end of the lot, Hajime chooses the spot right by an old staircase that appears to lead down the bank.

He pulls the handbrake with a resounding click and shuts off the engine. Comfortable silence befalls you as the radio cuts out. Soft, muted chirps rippled throughout the treeline, and as Issei popped open his car door, those first few notes bloomed into many more.

You climb out and step onto the uneven ground, the crisp air pinching the tips of your ears. You reach up and rub at them, running your palms over your cheeks in hopes of warmth. It isn’t cold—just refreshing. Cool enough to feel it in your sinuses when you breathe.

“Come on,” Tooru whines. He’s already stood by the railing, weight shifting restlessly between his feet. You smile at the bounce of his hair, frame outlined in darkening sunlight, breaking through the curls like a canopy.

An arm snakes loosely around your back and Hajime pulls you into his embrace. You fall in line with him, his pace purposefully slowed to remain at your side. He guides you forward, and once you’re close enough, the others begin to descend the staircase.

You hear Issei whistle. Glancing up from the final step, you’re met with a watercolour come to life. Open skies, there lay smudges of orange, red and pink. No telling up from down. The surface of the lake is completely still, reflecting a perfect mirror view of Mount Fuji.

“Wow,” you murmur, breathless. Hajime hums in agreement, awe bleeding into the sound. Tooru is crouched near the water, struck with wonder, idly swirling his fingertips over the surface as Takahiro and Issei station either side of him, the pair deep in thought.

Dragging your eyes from the picturesque view, you take in the emotion on Hajime’s face. People always claimed him to be intimidating—he could be, without question. But to you, Hajime was made up entirely of soft lines, deliberate kindness and telegraphed movements, as though he were a gentle giant, despite being the shortest of the four players.

He still carries some chub in his cheeks. You know, because you’re often inundated with the urge to pinch at it. This is your Hajime, the one you’ve always known; only now there’s stubble lining his jaw.

“It’s grown back again already,” you comment sotto voce, careful not to disturb the pensive atmosphere that has settled by the lakes edge. “You really are a big boy now”.

“It’s annoying”.

“Looks good though,” you muse. “Kinda rugged. I like it”.

His throat flexes as he swallows, hand coming up to itch his jawline, and you try not to stare. It’s always so easy to turn him pink. “You do?”

Too much, you think, poking the swell of his cheek in lieu of a response. It yields under the pressure, and as he smiles it takes on the appearance of a dimple.

Casual affection was second nature, now. You found yourself thankful for the excuse to touch, and knowing that he’ll be leaving soon has emboldened you somewhat. All those years ago you’d preemptively decided that crossing the threshold would lead to rejection, but the initial borders defining your relationship have long since blurred, and it’s hard not to wonder where you truly stand. If you got it right.

“Guys,” Takahiro demands your attention, hand cupped by his mouth with a lit cigarette held precariously between his fingers. The other is in the air waving his phone back and forth. “We’re here to marvel at the miracles of mother nature, not each other!”

You step out of Hajime’s embrace, disguising your reluctance.

Joining their lanky huddle rewards you with a chorus of cheers as Tooru latches on to your back and props his chin atop your shoulder. He flashes an effortless peace sign. The others attempt to fit themselves into the frame mirrored on Hanamaki’s phone screen, an iridescent crack running from one corner to the other, Mount Fuji’s blushing snowy peaks crowning your heads.

“You really gotta get that fixed,” you hear someone say. Their voice is muffled, as if they’d been talking with their lips closed, and one glimpse finds Issei trying resolutely to keep his posed smirk in place. Your own mouth flattens into a thin line to keep yourself from laughing.

The camera shutters.

You groan, “I wasn’t ready for that one”.

A few more are taken and sent to the group chat, eyes on you while you set a particularly sweet one as your wallpaper. Crowing with delight, you find yourself surrounded by bodies and squeezed in a firm group hug.

“Alright, alright,” you huff. The discomfort stems more from the insistent, cramping sensation in your stomach. Your smaller hands meet a hard, muscled abdomen, pushing fruitlessly. Neither man budges. If anything, your resistance only encourages them to coil tighter. “You’re all too heavy. Get off!”

They relent, but only at the sound of your gut rumbling. “Hungry?” Hajime asks. The sheathing sun reflects in his irises, burning bright, verdant green, as though he were part of spring itself; soft in apology.

“Food is that way,” Issei points toward a stout, cosy structure further along, tucked atop the edge of a hill and half hidden by a cradle of Japanese maple. If you squint you could make out the moving silhouettes inside. “Looks like it’s open. Maybe”.

Tooru cranes his neck, lips comically pursed as he looks toward the cafe. “It’s pretty romantic out here. If we have Hajime get on one knee for a picture, think they’ll give us a free meal?”

Hajime shoves him half heartedly and clicks his tongue, “Why me? Do it yourself”.

You watch as they share a long, unspoken moment, conversing without words. Tooru offers him a scathing look, one of total incredulity and that alone is enough to break the suspension. Hajime juts his chin in the opposite direction and turns his back, beginning a stiff march toward the cafe.

“What was that all about?”

“He’s so bullheaded,” Tooru muses, knuckles rapping gently to your skull as he passes. When you are offered nothing but a fond laugh in the face of your confusion, you stalk off after them.

Petulance has you speeding ahead of the group, further picking up the pace at the sound of hurried feet. The natural instinct to run nips at your heels. As the earth begins to incline upward and your strides broaden, there’s a burn in the back of your thighs that Takahiro seems to have no issue with, if his sudden sprint ahead has anything to say about it.

“Last one there has to pay!”

“Bastard,” Issei hollers from the back, refusing to run and carried by his heavy gait. “Just because you’re unemployed!”

Your lungs are burning with the exertion, laughter coming in short bursts. Issei remains in last, Tooru second, Hajime fourth. From the terrace, Takahiro pieces his thumb and forefinger together into the shape of a heart, nowhere close to apologetic. “Buy me something and I’ll give you a big wet kiss,” he returned in a singsong voice.

Issei lumbers through the gate, movements broad and slow. His brow arches, Takahiro immediately losing bravado. “You’d do that for free”.

“Get me out of here,” Hajime mutters. “Kill me”.

You take pity on him and herd them all through the doors, “Less flirting and more pastries, please”.

Inside is painted in rich deep browns. The fresh air weaves well with the aroma of freshly baked goods. You breathe it in, your hands dancing over shelves sparsely stocked with baskets of flatbread, loaves and cakes. While quaint, the ceilings are high, held up by large beams on which decorative lights and plants are carefully draped.

You feel slightly awkward and out of place in your shabby old sweatpants. A calming melody is playing overhead. Soft spoken voices belonging to the few employees and fewer patrons encourage you to lower your own into a whisper.

Hajime subtly leans down to listen as you say, “I think we should get our food to go”.

He hides his amusement against your shoulder and you accept the brief weight with a grin. Then you feel him nod in agreement.

Issei holds his hand out when you reach the counter. There are already multiple paper bags tucked under his arm. “Give me the goods before I change my mind,” he says, exasperation set plain on his face.

“Thank you Issei,” you recite like a child, pressing two sweet rolls shaped like a cornet into his palm. Hajime chooses comfort—curry bread. Shared on countless late night walks home; the memories stir something melancholic deep within your chest that you’d rather not examine right now.

Your initial concern about being out of place were not entirely unfounded. The employee behind the register greets your group kindly enough, and her smile is genuine, but you cannot ignore how her eyes seem to flicker back and forth to the disgruntled customers seated by the terrace.

If you had to guess, they were regulars. Retired elders that lived nearby and had the privilege to spend their evenings here. Though irritating, you are honest enough to admit that your gaggle of idiots would certainly fracture this place’s peaceful ambiance. So Issei pays, feigning nonchalance at the long, wet kiss Takahiro leaves on his cheek, and you trudge back to the car with food in hand.

Tooru ambles around to the front passenger seat, hip checking Takahiro toward the back where he previously sat. You knew he might do this at some point during the trip. Eating before a car ride made him prone to nausea, and since he was young he’d claimed sitting in the front helped. Anpan held between his teeth, Tooru peers at you through the headrests and smiles with his eyes, entirely too pleased.

Takahiro nudges your side as he clambers in. Lifting your hips, he buckles the seatbelt, and soon after you are half-draped over his lap to allow Issei to do the same. You glare at him as he wiggles his eyebrows, stopping short when he flashes you his phone. There’s a picture, this time of you and Hajime at the lake curled into each other; you’re cradled by his arms, and he by the mountainside, entirely in your own world.

You relent, “Send me it”.

“As I thought,” he mutters smugly.

The lake is rarely out of view. Heading south to Hakone, the road hugs the water for most of the journey. Tooru connects his carefully curated road trip playlist to the speakers and the car swells with an old city jpop song. You pick at your sweet rolls, barely humming along; choking on feelings left to fester in your throat, unacknowledged and unspoken.

You remember the day they told you their goals for the future. Plans to leave. Together, across from you, hands wrung in their laps. Grief filled your body like lead, and you recall thinking to yourself, half-hysterically, ‘How can I do this alone?’

That was a time in your life you couldn’t imagine a world without Tooru or Hajime in it. Day in, day out, seasons passed side by side. Three small stars converging on the same path. It never needed to be clarified—all plans were made with the tacit promise of being together. The unwillingness to part pulled even your families along and you were hard pressed to recall a first New Year shrine visit without their relatives present. Until they decided to leave.

It’s loneliness tinged with a smidgen of guilt. You’re not truly alone. Issei and Takahiro are some of your best friends, and they weren’t going anywhere far anytime soon. Still, you can’t help but brace for the ways your orbit will further unfurl in Hajime and Tooru’s absence when they return to their lives.

Hakone is tucked in the shadow of Fuji-Hakone-Izu national park. Long, mountainous roads lead you toward an expanding vista. Faces sun drenched in varying hues of red maple, pink blossom and youthful green. The next hour and a half passes in the blink of an eye and the destination closes in. You angle your head, stretching across Takahiro’s lap and squinting up to make out the shape of ropeways cutting across the burgeoning sky. Tiny, far off carriers glide along the cables.

Something about it compels everyone to stop and take a breath. You lapse into pleasant silence. The car slows to cruise through the busy streets, music lowered into a faint buzz. It is larger than life.

While advertised as a quaint getaway from the chaotic, fast paced lifestyle of Tokyo, in actuality Hakone is made up of seven separate villages, each with its own distinct history. Lush hills are crowned with cumulus clouds of smoke from the hot springs; young families stand beneath tall, crimson painted torii gates; vendors shelter from the sun in conical straw hats tied beneath their chins with silk.

To get to Gora, you must first cut through Yumoto—a lively, compact area lined with shops and restaurants that have attracted an uncomfortable amount of foot traffic. Hajime drives with his body strung tight, knuckles losing colour as yet another tourist almost walks out in front of his car.

“Almost there, man,” Issei offers sympathetically.

Hajime grunts, “Don’t talk to me”.

Tooru is too preoccupied with taking pictures to notice his best friend's struggles. The small noises of awe only seem to push Hajime’s shoulders higher. You have to duck away from the rear view mirror and bite your inner cheek so as not to laugh.

Eventually, the place you’ll be staying at comes into view. You all release a collective sigh of relief. The modernised ryokan is much larger than most family run facilities. It sits conspicuously on the end of a private road, concealed by forest and threadbare canopy that casts shadows across the windshield as the car pulls in, sliding effortlessly into one of the empty spaces.

Four staff members adorning pastel yukata’s greet you by the wide genkan with a deep bow. The woman standing behind the reception desk mirrors them when she meets your eye. You’re offered a pair of new grey slippers and gently ushered out into the lobby with your outdoor shoes in hand while Hajime heads to check in.

When he rejoins the group his expression is distinctly uncomfortable and pinched in a way you recognise as embarrassment.

“There’s been a mix up with the room—suite, I guess,” Hajime admits. Hesitant, his gaze drags up from the floor to where you’re standing beside him. “I showed her the booking but no dice. We’re stuck with a standard tatami room and bathroom, but she promised there’d be enough futons to roll out”.

While it was last minute they’d all designated tasks to each other, and his task had been booking accommodations. Having expressed that he would make the effort to get you your own room for the sake of privacy and comfortability, despite your protests, you understood his immediate reaction. Letting people down—at least, his own arbitrary idea of it—never sat right with Hajime.

“Let me go talk to her, Iwa-chan. I might even charm her into giving us some extra amenities,” Tooru grins wolfishly, already fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater. Faint freckles scattered along his forearms, some newer from the summer months. Tendons flexing with determination, he takes the proffered print out and saunters toward the counter.

“I can be charming,” Hajime mutters childishly, shucking the cross bag higher up his shoulder. He frowns you. “Am I charming?”

You pat his cheek. His pride always rears over the most obscure things. “In your own way”.

Takahiro voices his amusement with a heavy clap to Hajime’s back. “Yeah, man. You appeal to people’s baser instincts. Makes me wanna get knocked up in a cave and nap while you’re out hunting for boar, or something”.

“Shut up, idiot”.

Tooru leaned his body against the counter, closed the distance and tilted his head, a coy sequence you’ve paid witness to a thousand times. You can imagine how he’s holding the receptionist's attention, speaking in low, dulcet tones that slide through her like warm butter.

“What a bastard,” Issei sighs. Hajime grunts his agreement, and you realise that the four of you are lined up, watching them unashamedly as if it were a piece of theatre.

“Alright, weirdos. Move it,” you prod insistently at Takahiro’s waist, snickering when he flinches away from your fingers. “Stop staring and get your bags together so we’re ready”.

“You sure are confident in him,” Issei smirks, picking up his luggage nonetheless. There’s a loud click as you extend your suitcase handle, pulling with force when it jams halfway.

“You’re not? It’s Tooru—” your voice abruptly halts at the heat of another, their hand encompassing your own. Hajime relinquishes your grip and readjusts the handle without fanfare. Flustered, you clear your throat, “He always pulls through for us. Though I still think this is all a bit unnecessary”.

“I, for one, am glad he’s with us and not against us,” Takahiro snorts, eyes flitting between the two as Tooru tips his head and laughs. The sound is trim, practised and forced to your own ears, yet manages to make the employee blush. “Kinda scary, isn’t he?”

Unfettered affection pulls at the corner of your mouth. You smile, turning away from them before they can see and tease you for it. Without a doubt, you had missed being with them more than you realised, and the giddiness was hard to temper.

When Tooru returns, it is with a self satisfied grin, a new set of keys and a slip of paper. “That her number?”

“Yep,” his lips pop as he flips it over between his fingers, flashing the numerical digits scrawled on the back before flippantly sticking it in his jacket pocket. “We now have a modern double, a tatami room and a private onsen. Don’t all thank me too quickly, now”.

Hajime accepts the keys with a begrudged sigh. “You should worry about texting and thanking her before we leave”.

“Stop trying to make me a better person,” Tooru sniffed, allowing himself to be herded toward the cramped lift. You trail closely behind, shaking your head.

The room is bigger than expected. Family sized, you’d say. Traditional with a modernised touch. The main tatami room flowers in the early moonlight as it floods in through the sliding lattice doors. Behind them comes the promising sound of running water and after setting all your shoes in the modest genkan—pointed outwards—Takahiro rushes to discover the private onsen.

Hung in a recessed alcove is a silk scroll inscribed with calligraphy. Staggered shelves frame a small flatscreen TV, neatly decorated with painted clay art and incense. Tucked away in the corner is a closet full of freshly aired futons. The rice straw flooring yields softly under your feet as you explore.

Two other rooms are cordoned off, a smaller tatami room for the futons to be lain and one largely taken up by a double bed featuring a western style ensuite bathroom. Tourists must love this place, you think. It offers a palatable amount of Japanese culture, while simultaneously providing them with the simplistic comforts of their own.

Issei makes work of the futons, nudging the low table and cushions into a corner and dragging the blankets over to the other room. Lip worried between your teeth, you find yourself hovering uselessly with no task to attend to aside from unpacking, which you thought to be just as useless.

A hand snakes around your arm. Tooru’s, you soon recognise; impressively soft given his choice of career, lithe, and slightly balmy from a fruity smelling moisturiser his sister gifted him from her travels in South Korea. “Come on,” he insists without explanation, a dramatic weariness about him.

You are guided into the modern room and handed a travel sized torch identical to his own. You flinch away from the bright light as it abruptly begins to blink, but catch on quickly. ”Look everywhere you can think of”.

“What’re you guys doin’ in here?”

Ignoring Takahiro’s question, you bend to flash the torchlight into the plug sockets. As Tooru peeks into the vents—giving the theatrical whisper of “all clear” with every check—you circumvent around the bed, looking under the frame and the nearby closet.

“Makki, stop hovering like a ghost and check the bathroom for cameras. Actually, I’ll do it,” Tooru waves him off dismissively, sleuthing precariously into the small bathroom. “Gotta check the shower head. Can’t have my darling friends showing up on some dark web auction…”

Once Tooru is mollified that there are no hidden cameras the group allow themselves to settle. You are set up in the double room. It is the only door with a lock and a private bathroom, and you suspect that is why it was foisted onto you.

Still you are conscious about the proximity, or lack thereof. Listening to them bicker and scuffle through the walls, their footfalls and voices passing beneath the crack in the bathroom doorway. Your fingers lingered on the turning lock for too long and in the end, you’d left it horizontal. The intense anticipation in your belly culminated into what you recognised as yearning—longing.

The shower can only be described as a transparent box. Aside from a few shallow shelves left to house the complementary body wash, you’re surrounded only by clear, frameless glass panels that do nothing to obscure the view of your naked body. Anyone could walk in at any time. Standing under the warm spray, pressure just right against your shoulders, even as the dense steam fogs up the glass your gaze still falls back to the door handle.

You run a washcloth over your skin and ignore the muted arousal that flares between your thighs. Sounds can be heard over the white noise, muffled by hollow mortar yet still clear enough that the sounds are coalesced into words.

“Get your shoes off my futon,” Hajime demands. Hand braced against wet tile as though to touch the baritone of his voice, the other passes innocently over your sex, and you shudder. Thoughts wander.

Tentative, you slide your fingers through your folds. Massage wet, loose circles around your clit. Eyes fall closed and you dip into your imagination. There’s a firm body behind you, cock grinding tantalisingly slow against your ass. Shaped around your back as though you were an extension of him. Your rhythm stutters when Hajime nuzzles below your ear. Tender kisses forge a path to your shoulder while his hands smooth across a resting stomach toward your chest.

Curtained by hot water as it patters away at the tension in your muscles, droplets slip into the seam of your lips and they part for breath. You lean on the tiled wall, seeking cool relief where the steam starts to overwhelm you, and slip abruptly on the condensation. With an undignified yelp, you quickly find your footing—though not without first knocking over the travel sized bottles of body wash.

Deafening silence follows. You inhale deeply, exhaling to steady your breathing. A hesitant knock to the door gives you pause. The handle remains mournfully upright.

“…You alive in there?”

Your face twists into a grimace as you attempt to recompose yourself. You clear your throat. “I’m fine, Hajime. Sorry. The only thing I’m dying of is embarrassment”.

His short laughter is warm and uninhibited. It rings true in your ears long after he’s gone. Turning away from the spray, your head tips forwards until it thumps against the glass. Shame prickling behind your eyes, you groan, “What the fuck is wrong with me”.

Surprisingly there are no teasing comments awaiting you when you leave the privacy of your room, dried and redressed. All the screen doors have been pulled open, connecting the main room to the spare tatami room where they’ve rolled out all the futons to create one large bed. Five, together. You smile but don’t mention it. Issei greets you with a lazy wave from his place amongst the blankets.

“Makki’s just havin’ a smoke,” his thumb points to the door leading out toward the private onsen. Through the lattice you can make out a blurred silhouette standing on the small veranda.

“The other two?”

“Headed downstairs to ask about the festival tomorrow, and dinner”.

“Are you looking forward to it?” you perk up, kneeling to sit cross legged on one of the beds.

Issei smirks at your enthusiasm and hums an affirmative. Your eyes are drawn to the subtle movements of his hands where they fiddle with the inseam of his jeans. “Yeah. Heard they’re lighting some bonfires”.

Your mouth parts with a sound of recognition. “On the mountainside, right?”

“That's the one,” he nods and bows forward to rest an elbow on his thigh. You straighten up as he pins you under an intense stare. “I can slip away with the guys, if you want. Tomorrow. It would be a good time for you to talk to him”.

Heat prickles over your face. Your pinch your cheek between your teeth, eyes instinctively darting to the hallway. You’re not sure whether it’s his consideration of you or your own piteous transparency that makes you want to cry. It has been this way for years; you’re caught in a tentative dance that never seemed to end. They all know and you wished you could still be ignorant of that.

“Do you…” you clear your throat as your voice cracks. Issei’s gaze softens and you feel naked. “Do you honestly think that’s a good idea?”

After a short, pensive silence, Issei exhales a long breath and lays his hands flat on the futon. He leans and pushes onto his knees to drop his body heavily beside yours.

You struggle against his dead-weight as he slumps, flinging both arms around your waist. “Issei—!” an aborted yelp falls from your mouth when he hooks his chin over your shoulder and locks his jaw, pressing it hard into your back.

“Stop! That hurts, bastard!” you squawked, pushing down against the forearm cinched across your middle like a belt. They flex under your hands, not moving an inch. You can feel his cheeks lifting as he grins.

“Sure. When you stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he offers slyly, tightening his grip. “C’mon,” you grow slack as the fight bleeds from your body. There’s a familiar burn behind your eyes, closely followed by a swell in your throat that the words can’t quite seem to get around. “And for the record, I do think it’s a good idea”.

“It’s a terrible idea,” you intone, smile fraying at the edges. “He’s leaving again after this, Issei”.

Issei must hear the clear defeat in your voice because he gathers you against his chest to hug you properly. “I know that,” he murmurs. You breathe in the light notes of amber lingering on his skin, his big hand splayed between your shoulders.

Then you feel the unmistakable press of a kiss to your crown. “You’re a coward,” your brows knit together as you glare up at him. It's just like Issei to make it sound like you’re fussing over nothing after you’ve spent years building it up in your head. His grin widens, crooked. “But you’re our coward, and we want to see you happy”.

You feel your irritation melt away at his sincerity. A smile curls at the corner of your mouth. The sweet atmosphere is swiftly soured as he adds, “So hurry up and fuck already”.

Takahiro’s return is poorly timed. Shutting the lattice door behind him, he strolls in with scent of tobacco following close behind, “Who’s fucking?”

A wave of embarrassment washes over you. It makes you go hot and cold in quick succession. Issei surrenders and rolls onto his back, cushioned by the futon as you push him away, loud cackles bouncing off the walls.

“Nobody is. Be quiet, the pair of you”.

“Is it about Hajime?” he continues, crouched before you with eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Takahiro jumps backwards with a snicker when you angle your hips to kick at him. The bitter smoky smell is much stronger around his fingers. He grabs your ankle to keep you still but Takahiro’s smug air dissipates in an instant, mouth falling open as you drag him down. “Hey—!”

Issei stays quiet with his arms tucked behind his head, happy to no longer be the target of your ire.

That is the scene Tooru and Hajime returned to only a minute later. Having rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, Makki had accidentally pushed you down into Issei, the three of you tumbling backwards in fits of laughter.

Spurred by the need to be included, Tooru took it upon himself to flop unceremoniously into the pile. Your pained yelp had caused quite a stir, the image of Hajime’s face twisted in worry playing on a loop in your mind.

Later, you inhale deeply and grimace in discomfort. The air is humid. You can feel it sticky in your lungs, right beneath the fresh bruise blooming across your rib. Tooru’s eyes flicker, caught in the movement as you rub at your sternum. The corners of his lips downturn.

“Sorry again,” he mumbles over the sound of gentle, trickling water from the nearby spring, knocking your elbows together. You’ve strayed toward the back of the group to walk alongside him, his stride slowed to keep pace as you wandered around the low lit gardens to kill time before dinner. Flowers are few, evergreens abundant, stone lanterns guide you forward.

With a forgiving sigh you link your arms to keep him close. Tooru’s rigid posture relaxes as you nuzzle against his bicep. “Nobody died. It’s fine,” you laugh quietly.

“If it were up to Iwa-chan I might’ve”.

You roll your eyes. “I can handle a bit of roughhousing. Grew up with you, didn’t I?”

Tooru’s face is thrown into stark relief as moonlight filters through the canopy, and you watch his small smile scrunch up into a moue. “With my sister you mean,” he says, with a fondness betraying his expression. “What a beast”.

You have vague memories. Downy brunette hair fisted in a small hand. Eyes swollen with tears. A young boy sent to the corner to think about his actions. Tooru always started those fights, not that he would ever admit it. But you knew he was fighting for his older sister’s attention more than anything else at the time.

“Liar. She spoiled you all the time,” you tell him. “And you were as bad as each other”.

Tooru hums, the way he often does when he doesn’t believe you. Your paths converge, misstepping as he sways and you throw his too-innocent act a look of suspicion. “So,” he starts a beat later.

It’s apparent in his eyes. That gleam of curiosity, and hesitance. Bingo. Tooru barely moves as you push into his side and attempt to veer him onto the grass in protest. “No,” you reply.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“No? Well if it’s not about me confessing to Hajime then please, do carry on”.

Tooru makes a petulant, frustrated noise. There’s an indent in his cheek where the inner flesh is pinched between his teeth. You roll your eyes, scuffing your shoe to the stone path. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to confess now,” you tell him quietly.

“You’re just scared,” Tooru returns under his breath. His expression is solemn now, as is his tone.

“And what if I am?” your voice raises a bit, rousing the attention of the men up ahead. When they look back you muster a smile and give a reassuring wave. Your attention momentarily drawn to the huddle behind them by the bamboo gate. A small family shuffled by, heads bobbing with gratitude as the boys made room, when their toddler took notice of Takahiro and became appropriately delighted by him.

While the mother spilled panicked apologies and took her daughter's hand, the girl stood on the very tips of her purple jelly sandals and Takahiro bent to let her pat him on the head before departing. Tooru drops the topic with an offended hum as you abandon him to rejoin the group, examining the trim of his nails to feign disinterest, “She only liked you because your hair is pink”.

“Actually it’s strawberry blond,” Takahiro snarks, equally affronted and amused. “Just heavier on the strawberry”.

Their movements coalesce, blindly shuffling after one another back into the hotel lobby. “Should probably head back soon,” Hajime mutters as an afterthought, his gaze trailing wall to wall before landing on the clock hung above the main desk. “Should we buy some drinks and stuff for tonight?”

“I can get it,” you volunteer at the same time that Tooru interjects with, “We’ll go get it”.

You glare at him.

Hajime is reluctant. At the very least he’s worried. It’s apparent in the flex of his fingers, the set of his jaw, the earthen eyes narrowed at the pair of you. “Will you be okay together?”

“Yes, Iwa-chan. This isn’t an episode of ‘My First Errand’,” he reaffirms his grip on your arm, giving it a decisive squeeze. “We’re adults. It’s no problem, right?”

“Right,” you say, the decision clearly made for you. You turn your attention from Tooru’s pointed smile back to Hajime and the others. “We’re good. Text us what you want and we’ll bring it up to the room”.

Murmured acquiescence ripples through the group, and Tooru ambles you out through the main entrance as you part ways. Your entwined shadows elongate, the wall mounted sconces leading a path to the small sundry nestled in the east side of the hotel.

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“No”.

“Not even if I say please?”

“No,” Tooru chimes again, tugging you through the automatic doors. The cashier acknowledges your arrival with a quick smile and continues to restock the empty shelf in front of them.

The temperature drops as you turn onto the drinks aisle and Tooru opens the closest fridge while refusing to let go of you. “I just don’t understand why you’re not taking the chance,” he continues, frowning at the bottle labels. When he plucks the umeshu from the rack you know it’s for him. “I don’t want you to regret it”.

“They’re asking for beer and shochu,” you read tiredly from the phone in your free hand. The text chat bumps as another message comes through. “Uh… Issei wants dried calamari. We should get seaweed tempura, too”.

“Stop changing the subject”.

Annoyance sparks in your chest. “This is what we’re here to do,” you grumble, shoving your phone into your pocket and opening the adjacent fridge door with more force than necessary. You shiver at the gust of cool air.

An indolent sigh seeps from him. “C’mon. You have to know,” Tooru murmurs, moving closer to hook his chin over your shoulder. He softly knocks your heads together. “The chances of you being rejected are less than zero”.

“No, I don’t know that. And—even if that’s true, what then?” you shake your head, chewing your lip. “Like I told the others, it’s not a good idea”.

“Okay,” Tooru replies, standing upright and turning to saunter away. He draws out the word as he does whenever he concedes an argument he still thinks he has won. You stare at his retreating back with a bereft sense of defeat until your eyes sting, now cold where your arms had been linked.

“Tooru,” you say. He makes an inquisitive noise, his nose wrinkled as he rummages through the deep fried snacks. “Being rejected and watching you two leave again—I can’t do both”.

Your voice cracks. That strikes a chord square in his chest, his sudden crestfallen expression is evidence enough. Tooru abandons the tempura shelf and tucks the bottles of liquor under his armpit while tucking you under the other. You're a mess, a cacophony of emotion threatening to spill out through your tightly closed eyelids.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to push you”.

“Yes you did,” you laugh thickly, and Tooru has the decency to appear sheepish. He rubs his hand down your side. “But it’s okay. I know you mean well, you all do”.

It’s enough to see that it comes from a place of love. The extent of your yearning has affected him just as much as anyone. Tooru watched consistently over the years while you stood in place and dug, and dug, and dug, for somewhere to put your feelings. Some point along the line it became a crater you couldn’t climb out from. And while you were desperate to make it hospitable, desirable, to be a person Hajime could want, he had managed to blindly pivot around it his whole life.

The electrical buzz emanating from the fridges is abnormally loud as Tooru, for a precious second, actually stalls to gather his next words. “Look. I’ve been thinking,” he says with a rather rehearsed air.

“That’s not good”.

“Don’t be mean. Hear me out,” he grins. “It was weird for Hajime to suggest a trip so last minute, don’t you think?”

You purse your lips thin with a contemplative hum, grabbing the snacks and shuffling along the aisle while he talks. You had thought it significant, that being the main reason you encouraged Hajime’s idea in the first place. “See, he’s a straightforward, honest guy. And he’s earnest. That’s why you think if he returned your feelings he would’ve said something, isn’t it?”

The cashier furtively looks you over as you wander closer to the counter and set them down. You offer a strained smile. “Hi, that’s everything. Tooru—what’s your point?”

Tooru pulls out his wallet and emphatically states, “My point is you’re wrong!” He hands over the money, “Oh, here. Keep the change. Thank you”. You take the carrier bag, wincing when the glass bottles clink together. “Anyway,” Tooru exhales a heavy breath, visible as he steps into the night air, “You’re underestimating his cowardice”.

Coward was not a descriptor you’d ever ascribe to Hajime. Yourself, sure. You shoot Tooru a sidelong glance, and he smiles at your clear scepticism. “Iwa-chan is bad at being selfish. He feels a certain responsibility toward the people he cares about. Did on our old team, and with the guys, and especially with you,” Tooru continues, a warmth to his tone. “He’s probably not thinking about his own feelings. He’s mostly worried about you, and yours”.

Your pace lags until you’ve come to a stop. Tooru does so a few steps ahead. “So he brought us here for what? To let me down gently?”

“Did you listen to a word I just said?” Tooru cocks his head, the moon crowning his head, light threading through his hair as his expression is shadowed. “I think he was always aware of what could change if he outright confessed. He needed to be sure, and he needed a reason, because his gorilla brain thinks it’ll ruin your whole relationship. That’s why we’re here,” you blink at his lithe fingers, waving in your face and wriggling. “It's an excuse. A final push. Because he wants to try!”

Eyes wide, caught in the place between awed disbelief and crippling anxiety, your fingers almost slip from under the bag handle. The trip being symbolic of Hajime’s resolve—could that make sense? You swallow against the lump in your throat. Memories of every recent there-and-gone-again touch and gentle look hold new meaning as they resurface. “He said that?”

“Well, no”.

And the lump in your throat, presumably your heart, drops straight into your stomach. You march past Tooru into the hotel lobby with a bitter laugh.

“Wait, would you—! You’re both so frustrating”.

“Me?” you whirl around to glare at him. People linger at the edge of your vision. Those prim, soft looking women that greeted you mere hours ago gather at the reception desk and pretend not to stare. Lowered into a broken rasp, you tell him, “What happened to not pushing? You aren’t being fair, Tooru”.

“This isn’t about fairness. You said you're scared,” Tooru says. Your eyes dipped low to avoid the surety in his gaze. “And that’s fine. I just want you to consider that maybe you’re not the only one who’s scared”.

His words register gradually, and they ache, like a deep bruise. The implications become clearer, and your reply comes quietly—not whispered, with a voice that carries no strength. “Fine,” you lift your head, ball your fist tighter and the plastic handles dig into your palm. The tension smooths in Tooru’s brow. His eyes soften, squinting at the corners, and you realise you’ve begun to smile too. “I’ll keep it in mind. You’ve said your piece. What now?”

“Oh. Now we go back to the room before Hajime sends a search party, eat as much as we want and drink until we fall asleep,” Tooru says, casting a quick glance to your surroundings. He drapes arm around your shoulders haughtily, “Then at the festival tomorrow I’ll conveniently slip away with Makki and Mattsun to leave you and Hajime alone. Do with that what you will”.

You snort, feeling an unrestrained fondness for your friends, and will yourself not to cry. “You all already had this planned, didn’t you? Issei told me the same thing”.

“He wants to talk to you. Confess, don’t confess. Either way, I think it’ll be good for you both,” he says resolutely. Tooru’s one armed hug has the steadiness of home. You return it, hooking around his lower back, and walk together. His strides that much longer, and you a little braver.

Returning to the room you’re greeted by the sight of three men crowded in the genkan pushing to get their shoes back on. As Tooru anticipated they were preparing to go out looking for you both. The smile on your face only grows at Hajime’s admonishments now you're considering the love behind them, Tooru’s words on a loop in your mind.

If Takahiro and Issei exchange a look at the bounce in your step, well. You happily ignore it.

Clothes had been laid out neatly for each of you to wear for dinner. Once you’ve changed you putter into the main room and settle on your knees, resting back on your calves. The floor is comfortable underneath your shins. Set on the table is a lavish spread of food brought up to you by the ryokan staff.

The heat of another body radiates to your left. Hajime smiles when you look at him. Your heart thunders. He’s unbearably handsome in his complimentary robe, a darker blue than your own, and he has it loose at the neck. You feel a headache coming on with the effort it takes not to ogle his chest.

To your right Takahiro’s navy coloured garb is worn equally loose, somehow managing to look dishevelled rather than natural. As though he had pulled it on haphazardly in his excitement to get to the food.

Tooru saunters into the room alongside Issei. His robe matches your own. It is drawn tight at the waist and closed at the collar, closely outlining his upper half. You are always startled by how broad Tooru truly is, given how lithe his movements are. He huffs when he notices the spots rather side of you are taken.

“Ready to eat?” Issei rumbles, sitting opposite at the low table looking nonplussed as ever. You can’t help noticing his belt is barely holding tension and could fall open at any time, both sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. It smells incredible,” you say. The dinner is beautiful, a healthy array of colour, covered in mouth watering glaze. Seasonal flowers and leaves and decoratively cut vegetables have been used as finishing touches on each dish, artistically expressing the end of the summer. Your stomach twists in hunger as both palms come together in synchrony, “Thank you for the food”.

You take your chopsticks and reach for the dish closest. Limbs cross over the table top. A familiar, homely scent of saffron, garlic and onion fills your senses. The gloaming moon watches you eat in the relaxed atmosphere. Soft sounds of satisfaction, the clang of cutlery. “S’good,” Hajime says. He catches your gaze and lifts his chopsticks toward you, free hand cupped beneath it. “Want to try?”

It’s unnecessary in the best way. “Mmn,” you replied, leaning forward with an indulgent smile. You don’t trust yourself to speak, the spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to your body.

Could Hajime really return your feelings? Tooru certainly thinks so. Issei and Takahiro. Seemingly everyone that has been within twenty feet of you.

Tooru watches the interaction over his glass of umeshu, radiating a smugness that can only be interpreted as I told you. You don’t particularly enjoy being seen to the bottom of; it makes you want to shrink away. It’s the strange flicker of determination on Hajime’s face that keeps you from doing so.

You’re not the only one afraid to say something, a voice insists in the back of your head.

The food falls apart gently on your tongue. You give a pleasantly surprised hum, engrossed in the rich flavours, and you almost miss how Hajime preens. His mouth pulled into a small, boyish grin, unable to look you in the eye.

“Hey man, give me some of that,” Takahiro bemoans, his tone on the precipice of teasing. You recline to allow Hajime to pass the dish across and instinctively know what will come next. “Oh, I see how it is. Not gonna feed me too? Favouritism at its finest—” With a flat glare Hajime scoops a large chunk of rice and shovels it into Takahiro’s mouth mid sentence, and you hide a laugh behind your hand.

As the plates empty your imagination wanders. The whole evening had been a whole unravelling of doubt. Until this point you’d navigated every one of your relationships with a certain level of trepidation, Hajime most of all. Taking a forward step only when certain it wouldn’t creak. Years of doing nothing, saying nothing, because it was the safe option. You had been prepared to spend your life in that unspoken purgatory if it meant keeping Hajime, and there had been comfort in that decision.

But now you have permission to hope and you don’t know what to do with it. You’re quieter than usual, though nobody points it out. If anything they seem relieved. Three of the four, atleast. Hajime won’t stop sending you worried glances. You wonder if he’s overthinking his actions, and your reactions, the way you’ve always done.

The main room is fragrant with the remains of dinner. You’ve gathered some pillows, shared out the snacks and poured their drinks, five sups in and counting. The boys are bickering over which movie to watch. Sake heats you from the inside out, plucks you right from your entangled thoughts and back into the present with loose limbs and a looser tongue.

You speak loudly over them, “How about a comedy?” It’s the first one you can think of. “Tampopo?”

Issei, Takahiro and Hajime pause to consider. Tooru groans, already knowing he has lost the majority vote. “I wanted to watch ‘Before we vanish’,” he whines. “Sci-fi is better than comedy!”

“We always watch sci-fi,” Hajime remarks as he works the remote, switching the movie category to comedy and searching for ‘Tampopo’.

“There’s a drinking game for this one,” Takahiro adds. “I think you sip every time somebody says ‘ramen’”.

“If you want to be put on a waitlist for a new liver go ahead,” Issei says.

The room briefly fades to darkness, lighting up not a second layer as the studio logo whirls onto the screen, emphasising the shadows of Hajime’s laughter lines. “We should drink every time there’s a weird food-porn montage instead,” he suggests, sinking back onto his elbows. Your traitorous mind immediately notes the few inches between your hands.

“Well I’ll be drinking in protest,” Tooru turns his nose up though his eyes betray him, fixed on the screen with obvious interest. “And I’m not sure I want to hear the word ‘porn’ from your mouth ever again”.

“Porn,” Hajime says. “Porn, porn, porn”.

“Quiet,” you hiss, focus absorbed by the opening scene. An odd pair of lovers, one delicate woman and her white-suited gangster, enter a movie theatre. Their uniformed entourage scurries behind them with champagne and a wicker basket of food, setting up a small table as though in a restaurant.

“Oh,” the dapper man’s voice bleeds through the speakers as he approaches the camera to break the fourth wall and harangue the viewer. “So you’re at a movies too. What are you eating?”

“Dried calamari,” Issei answers loftily. Takahiro snorts into his drink.

Scene to scene, you drink when prompted and settle into uninhibited contentment. Feet tucked up under your thighs, propped on a plush pillow. The heat from Hajime’s hand grazes your skin. Closer and closer until the simple stretch of your fingers would see them entwined.

The movie is funny. It is also unabashedly sensual and hedonistic, and heavy handed about its themes surrounding food. From oysters to noodles, including a scene involving the two lovers using their tongues to move an egg yolk between their mouths before it bursts, you're barraged with wet slurping sounds as the characters on screen eat, and eat, and eat.

“Hot,” Takahiro slurred, while Tooru cried, “What the hell are we watching?”

You drank twice for that one. Too tipsy to parse whether the hot flashes through your body were embarrassment or arousal or an intermingling of both. You’re overly conscious of Hajime’s movements and his closeness, so much so that the plot passes through one ear and out the other.

The dim lamplight from the ensuite room pools across the tatami, the door left ajar to luminate the spot where you’ve lined up the liquor bottles. You squint at the labels. Fuzzy. Laughter ripples through the group at the ongoing scene, an elderly woman being chased around a grocery store and hit with a fly swatter for seemingly—fingering the food?

You smile at the sound as you lift Tooru’s umeshu bottle to the light to discern how much remains before pouring it into your glass. A hand circles your ankle, shifting back and forth to fit the peak into the gaps between his knuckles. The soft evocation of your name. Hajime is holding out his own empty cup with a half lidded gaze, the left side of his face thrown into stark relief by the TV screen.

Something hot flares through your chest, your perspective on his tactile habits shifted; the initial desire suffuses to the very tips of your fingers. Now you’re restless with it. He’s so handsome, you think. And he’s still looking at you.

You hear his wordless request and fill his drink too, with hope the alcohol will not steal these warm moments come morning.

Once the movie was over your sprawled out bodies eventually migrated toward the futons Issei prepared. You forgo the double bed to crawl into the covers, to the surprise of no one, and let your eyes trail after Tooru. The flush across his nose has steadily deepened throughout the night. He flicks on the electric fan and kneels to roots through his luggage, pulling a compact from the front pocket with a triumphant noise.

“Comfortable over there?” Tooru circles the pad of his pinky into the balm and brings it to his mouth. The faint strawberry scent is enticing, preferable over the heady, bitter smell of beer. His brow quirks when you don’t reply.

“Want some?” he asks. Slowly, you nod, and he flashes a wry smile, setting down the pot before stretching to reach you. The motion draws you in, tipping your chin up. His fingers are soft on your cheek, splayed out and cradling your jaw. You’re happy to indulge him.

Tooru kisses you. Your heart maintains a steady rhythm. It’s a friendly, chaste press of lips; you rub your own together as he pulls away not a second later, finding them smoother. Sweeter. The hints of strawberry linger right beneath your nose. Caught in your own world you fail to notice the other two men staring.

“Oh no,” Issei drawls, turning off the lights as he saunters in. He drapes himself across an already prone, drunk Takahiro, tilting his head in Tooru’s direction. “My lips are so dry”.

The atmosphere sparks a little. Issei’s teasing, syrupy tone is like flint striking steel. A fond, honeyed sensation settles around your bones—or perhaps that was the alcohol easing the tension. Flirting came easily amongst the others because it was without expectation. The silly pet names and heavy handed affection; it’s all a playful toeing of the line. People found your group dynamic odd no matter how much you tried to articulate it to them. You think in the end, it boiled down to trust. To safety. They all loved you in their own, individual ways, as you loved them. Maybe that's how you'd managed to be so content with Hajime's friendship. It had been enough.

Tooru hums and sits cross legged on his futon. He settles back onto his hands, smiling hazily as Hajime kicks his foot in passing, “I’ve noticed”.

You can’t help appreciating how genuinely coy it is. Patently different to the way he behaves with strangers—not so forced. With his friends flirting is more about working for Tooru’s permission. It’s more fun that way.

Issei purses his lips expectantly. Tooru leans forward.

“You okay?”

You blink. Hajime lowers onto the futon beside yours. His yukata has fallen further open to display his firm chest. Not that you’re looking. You’ve been cordoned on the far end of the room together. Takahiro was too drunk to make any purposeful decision but it was obvious—at least to you—that Tooru and Issei chose from the remaining futons to keep you and Hajime together.

“Sleepy,” you say, the lull to your voice earning a gentle smirk in response.

“Want any, Iwa-chan?” Hajime’s frowns at the interruption and looks over his shoulder, taking in the suggestive intermittent puckering of Tooru’s mouth. You think at this rate there’ll be no balm left.

“No thanks,” he says.

“Have it your way,” Tooru grumbles from his place beside Takahiro, right in the centre. Pale legs kick at his covers until they’re rumpled a certain way, apparently satisfying to him, and he wriggles down into the mattress. “Still think we should’ve watched ‘Before we vanish’. I’m going to have nightmares about oysters”.

Issei snorts. He turns on his side, laid at the furthest end from you. “But does your nerdy sci-fi movie use an egg yolk to symbolise orgasm?” his hand makes a sweeping gesture in the shadows, “I don’t think so”.

“Tha’s cinema baby,” Takahiro abruptly slurs, mouth muffled against his pillow. A beat passes. You meet Hajime’s gaze. His lips are pressed thin, trembling. You hear a smothered wheezing sound coming from Tooru’s futon, and a beat later the stillness is broken by a unanimous fit of laughter.

“Shit,” your cheeks ache, your stomach is in knots as you pull the covers up over your persistent grin. The collective glee tapers. “I’ve,” Hajime starts after a deep breath, rubbing at his eyelids, “missed you idiots”.

Tooru sniffles at that. “Don’t make me cry,” he says, clearing the emotion cloying in his throat. You feel a pang of sympathy, overcome with it yourself. “I’ll wake up with swollen eyes and I forgot to bring gel masks”.

“Use a cold damp cloth or something”.

“Mattsun, you're so primitive”.

Eventually the murmuring between the boys settles into silence. The kind of silence that makes the shadows in your room a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. The electric fan and the cicadas hum a cohesive song into the night.

Through the thick of it, you hear a new whisper. Hajime calls your name and there’s barely any voice behind it—uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace. The corner of a blanket pulled back to expose his torso.

Intention clear, you first glance at the sleeping figures over his shoulder. Tooru curled into a cocoon with his bedsheets tucked under his feet. Takahiro laid out on his belly, open mouthed and drooling. Issei on his side, arm bent beneath the pillow, breathing so shallow you’re tempted to pinch him awake.

Hajime waits while you think. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the trepid smile on his face. Emboldened, you crawl out of the futon and into his.

“Looked cold over there,” he reasons.

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years, Hajime is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position. You guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest, legs overlapped. Made up of yourselves but also each other.

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as your nerves settle and anticipation thaws. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm.

It reminds you of when you were kids. The jagged shape of a tall, lego Godzilla had forced you to find home between him and Tooru more times than you could count. Everything had been so much bigger. Scarier. Still, those gauzy memories don’t quite hold a candle to this.

Hajime’s hand glides down your back in repetitive, methodical strokes. It makes you feel delicate, like something in you might fracture. You try to ease your breathing as he pulls you closer. The proximity isn’t anything new, but this is something else. Different. It always is, with him, only this time you don’t need to convince yourself otherwise.

Fingers twisting into the thin cotton of his yukata, you mumble, “Thanks, Haji”.

You feel his lips on your temple like hot wax. Your eyes flutter closed, and all at once you feel brave enough to say it, but the moment passes as his head drops against the pillow.

From the recesses of your mind rose the rehearsed speeches, the recipes for honmei chocolate, the imagined cliche scenarios that you left dog-eared in highschool. All the ways to say ‘I love you’.

Hajime has always expressed love in smaller ways. You’ve observed, over the years, his little habits. Easing small burdens. He’d take the clothes off his own back if it could make your journey smoother but wouldn’t ever dream of asking you to stray from it. That’s where you differed, and what you feared.

If he got cold feet you would need to be the brave one.

For all that you had doubted about the nature of Hajime’s feelings towards you over the years, you could have some faith in it now. The thought of him leaving again without hearing it from you—without knowing you were an option—doesn’t bear thinking about.

Vague and half-formed, you succumb to sleep on the end of a drowsy self imposed promise. Tomorrow, you’ll tell him.

Wading through a cottony haze, your consciousness sharpens in increments. Every single physiological response in your body is shouting that it is far too soon to rise. You groan, tilt your head and let it loll against your arm; the other is flung outside of the covers, fingertips skimming the futon edge.

You’ve turned on your side in the night. Slowly, you realise a firm body has conformed to your back, knees nudged up behind your own, bending them toward your chest. The way you melt into their warmth and nudge against the cradle of their hips is instinctive. Then the shallow, steady breaths brushing the nape of your neck stutter on a sharp inhale and your eyes fly open, remembering where you are.

Hajime.

After a few seconds endured with bated breath you release the tension in your muscles. He’s asleep.

There’s stark relief. The initial terror in your chest ebbs. Careful as you go, you slip out from Hajime’s grip. A crease forms in his nose, frowning at your absence, and you stay to see how he reaches for you even subconsciously.

A long yawn forces your jaw open, tongue sitting like cotton as the last dregs of sleep fade. A quick look around the room tells you Takahiro is the only one up. The latticed door to the onsen is cracked open. You pull your yukata tighter to your chest to shield against the slight draft. Blood rushes down to your toes as you walk, prickling white noise filling both legs.

Bordering the onsen is a quaint patio area mimicking a traditional veranda. There’s a mosaic garden table and two matching folding chairs, one of which is occupied by a visibly hungover Takahiro.

“Anyone would think you had a wild night out,” you murmur, closing the door behind you. The air is cool again. Birdsong carries over from the trees. Takahiro peeks at you through his lashes, a permanent frown etched into his brow. A headache, if you had to guess. He’s slumped in the chair with long legs stretched outward, a cigarette nestled in the ‘V’ between his fingers, held up by a loose wrist like it alone was too heavy.

The tip glows red as he takes another drag and turns his head away to exhale the smoke into the dew laden air. “Never let me mix drinks again,” he rasps.

“You say that every time,” you cross your arms over your middle and sit down. The metal is cold under your thighs, felt through the thin fabric. “Sleep well, atleast?”

“Like the dead,” he flashes a conspicuous smile as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “You?”

His nonchalance falls flat and betrays his interest. Subtle in his teasing. Despite already knowing he would’ve seen you and Hajime on his way to the veranda, the confirmation leaves you feeling hot.

“It was comfortable,” you reply stiffly, braced to defend yourself ad nauseam. Takahiro’s eyes softened in the rousing grey-blue daylight.

“Good,” he says.

“That’s all?”

“What, you want me to force the subject? Figured you've had enough of that already”.

“No,” you sigh, sinking into your chair. “…Thanks, Makki”.

Takahiro shrugs lightheartedly and stubs his cigarette out. There’s movement from inside the room. At that moment the door slides open, and Hajime pops his head through the narrow gap.

Your fingers twist hard around your belt. He looks sleep mussed where he’s sitting on the tatami, pushing the door further open to lean against the frame. There’s recognition and relief in his gaze as he glances from Takahiro to you. No indication he was awake before.

“Hey,” Takahiro says.

“Morning,” Hajime replies, sounding as though his throat is dry. A draft dances through and his face scrunches slightly at the nicotine smell. “I set an alarm for breakfast. They’ll be here in any minute”.

“The other two up?” you ask.

“Mostly,” Hajime nods in their general direction. “Tooru’s getting in the shower and Issei’s on the phone to his little brother”.

Takahiro takes a deep inhale and pushes his centremost knuckle to his forehead. “I’ll go help put away the futons,” he states with a groan. Hajime tucks his legs in to allow him through and swats at the hand that scrubs over his hair in passing.

He turns his attention to you. A crease from his pillow marks his cheek. “Have you been awake long?”

“About ten minutes,” you reply, staring hard at the dense garden and dwindling into silence caught somewhere on the knife’s edge between awkward and companionable. Running water streams from the wooden spout into the onsen, making the surface ripple. You latch onto the sound. “Shame we didn’t use the onsen”.

“We’re still here another night,” Hajime says placatingly. “Use it when we’re back from the festival if you want”.

You nod, adjusting your yukata without reason. The simple need for distraction. “Maybe,” your mind can’t help veering toward the worst case scenario. What would’ve changed by that time, tonight? What would you say, and how, if anything at all? The thought makes your stomach twist. You’re not sure you could recover if he reacted poorly.

Blinking out of your reverie, you realise that Hajime had been talking. Heat prickles under your skin. “Sorry,” you grin awkwardly, and it feels brittle on your face. “Got lost in my thoughts”.

“About what?”

You wet your lips, like that could soften the blow. “I’m going to miss you,” you tell him. His expression falls. “Both of you,” you add hastily, which does little to reassure him. “When’s your flight again?”

Hajime’s mouth thins, eyes dipping low. “Late tomorrow night. Or early I guess,” he answers. His shoulders shake and he laughs ruefully, “I’ll miss you too, y’know. Not sure you realise how much,” like it was a matter of fact. The earth would go around the sun and Hajime would miss you.

“Like a hole in my head,” you murmur, so quiet you’re not certain he heard you. Then, slightly louder, “Are you excited to get back to California?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m excited to leave. Got a lot of interesting stuff coming up this semester, though,” he perks up when you gesture, encouraging him to continue. Inwardly, selfishly, you only want to hear him speak a little longer. “One thing I’ve really wanted to do is biomechanical testing. We use it for detailed analysis of our players movement. So…”

The air stifles as the sun rises and drapes across the private veranda, warming the wood panels beneath your feed. Once breakfast has been laid out—and you’ve been bid an enthusiastic ‘good morning’ by the staff—you gravitate toward the same seating arrangement as the night prior.

It’s nothing short of a buffet. A traditional Japanese-style breakfast, hot rice and miso soup, grilled fish, dried seaweed and shellfish boiled in soy sauce and sugar, all served across four hand-woven bamboo trays. There are western elements to the spread, including coffee and bread, which Tooru happily reaches for.

“A person like you should really avoid stimulants,” Hajime muttered as he came to sit at the table.

Tooru startled, hands poised over the steaming coffee pot. He pouted, “A person like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Paranoid, is what I mean”.

“If you're so concerned about my overactive limbic system maybe try being nicer to me!”

The morning crawls onward with an atmosphere of trepidation. As if waiting for the other shoe to drop. You squirrel away in the ensuite bathroom again to get dressed, taking longer than is necessary. Condensation from Tooru’s earlier hot shower sticks to the tile and the mirror’s surface. The reflection is foggy, your figure like a smudge. You regret not bringing nicer clothes for the festival—knowing you’ll be surrounded by all that beauty and colour and you worry you’ll look dull in comparison.

Regardless, you smooth out any lingering creases in your outfit. Dull or otherwise it flatters your silhouette nicely.

“Oh”.

You step out just as Takahiro angles his mouth to exhale. Smoke plumes out the open door in delicate wisps, swept away by a humid gust of wind. “Shit—sorry,” he mutters, a little flustered as he scrambles to shield you from the smoke, eyes roving over your form.

“You okay?” you ask, unsure if you should be amused or insecure.

He stubs his cigarette out into the ashtray balanced on the side table and wipes his hands on his jeans with such speed you worried it might create static. Then, suddenly, he’s across the room with his thumb sinking into the swell of your left cheek, tobacco fingertips framing the right. He pushes them together until your mouth is puckered. There’s nothing sweet about it. Rather, it looks as if he wants to squeeze you like a clementine.

“You’re all glowy. And determined,” the crease in his brow deepens, and he adds pressure to his fingers until you’re squirming, flustered. “And you look cute”. Issei emerges from the garden at that moment. Hand up his dark turtleneck shirt, scratching idly at the hair on his belly.

A deep groan rumbles in his throat. “What are you two doing?”

“I think it’s finally happening”.

Drawn to Hanamaki’s incredulous outburst, Issei stares at your confused, squashed face as it is turned in his direction. His mouth parts and he squints, as though he were searching for the right words.

What the fuck, you think.

“What the fuck,” he says, as if plucking the thought from the air.

“Right?”

They sidle either side of you. Tall and looming, their overbearing presence has anticipation swooping in your belly. Issei smells it like blood in the water and hooks two fingers to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Well look at that,” he teases, bending forward until your eyes cross. “Wonder who you’re getting all dressed up for. Us?”

“Fuck off,” you grumble, though it comes out muffled and terribly nasal. Takahiro laughs, and his thumb skips over your rabbit-footed pulse as his hand slides down the column of your throat and away.

“Oi. In all seriousness you do look good,” Issei smiles. His kind eyes squint with it. They’ve made a clear effort themselves. That’s part of the fun.

A voice floats in from the genkan, “Who are we talking about?” Tooru looks up from his phone and he beams. “Oh! You look cute,” he says, tone light and pleasant. “Hajime will like it”.

“Your reactions are worrying me a bit,” you reply dryly in favour of ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Anyone would think I usually look awful”.

“No,” their three voices overlap as they protest. “You never look awful,” Tooru says, shaking you by the shoulders. Then he stops to consider his words. “Well. Maybe that time we thought you had strep throat”.

“What Oikawa wants to say is,” Takahiro cuts in with a flat glare in the other’s direction, “We’re here to support you today, and stuff. That’s all”.

“And stuff,” you repeat, a fond smile coming unbidden to your lips. The surge of affection has you trying to stretch your arms around three big bodies. “You’re being overbearing. But thank you”.

Their arms come up to wrap around your back and reciprocate. You are corralled into a long, strong hug, compressed from every direction. They release you when Hajime returns. He is visibly stupefied at the scene, brow knit as he fiddles with the collar of his dark denim jacket.

Your spine straightens, taking an unnecessarily deep breath. “Hi Hajime,” you say. It feels so different now, now there's all that premeditated intent behind it. Like ‘IloveyouHajime’ bunched into a single word.

“Hi. You look…” Hajime's throat bobs. “Good. You look good”.

You glance at the boys and chew the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress your grin, “So I’ve heard”.

The sun is at its highest point when you leave the ryokan together. You are swallowed up by gold beneath the gingko trees flanking the road, a mosaic of dappled light filtering through the partial canopy and intermixed with the softly shaded ground.

Foot traffic grew dense on the main street, teeming with life. “Stick close,” Hajime murmured next to your ear. You suppressed a shudder and took his arm so as not to stray far. The crowd herds your group closer to the heart of the festival. Sound assailed you from every direction. Thousands of lanterns have been strung up, forming a blushing canopy over the yagura, a makeshift stage housing performers and musicians, handsome taiko drummers setting the pace for participants to gather around it and dance along in circles.

There’s a sense of harmony, pigments blended into one another. Families are swathed in beautiful kimonos and silks, jinbei and traditionally woven hats. Your group stood out for their height alone—Mattsun especially, the tallest of the four men. People part to let you through, and children look skyward with awed eyes, jumping in place to see how high they can get.

The current pushes you towards the stalls, where an amalgamation of savoury scents pervade the air. Sweet, crisp okonomiyaki sauce, intense pickled ginger, charcoal smoked meats. Hunger knots in your stomach. Hajime looks over the heads of people and spots some vendors.

“Guys,” he raises his voice and drops his arm around your back with firm reassurance. The others pause, colliding with the moving bodies around them. “Food first. Then we can go to the games”.

You’re suitably satiated after takoyaki. The folded boat-shape container they’d handed over to you is warm in the already throbbing heat. It burns at the nape of your neck; the sun and the many stares of those around you. Takahiro, Issei and Tooru, too, keep flicking their eyes over, as if waiting for something to happen, or some kind of sign.

Music plays over the din. A quick-tempo showy melody, like one would hear at a circus. Takahiro points at the ring toss stall. “Hey, ‘kawa. Win me something,” he says.

“Win it yourself!”

“Don’t be like that babe,” Takahiro laments dramatically, his movements becoming languid and sloppy as he drapes himself around Tooru’s shoulders with his mouth curled into a smarmy grin. “You’re so much better at tossing than me”.

At your back, Hajime trembles with restrained mirth. Issei catches your eye and shakes his head while Tooru sniffs primly, attempting to scrunch his own smirk into a displeased pout. “Fine,” he relents. “But one of you needs to win me a mask at the rifle-shooting game”.

“I don’t need to do anything,” Issei replies dryly as they start toward the ring toss game with startling synchrony. You glance at Hajime’s face, at another tentative, uncertain beginning of a smile, and feel the limitless joy of being together ballooning inside you.

“Did you want anything?” he asks as you walk.

Giddy, you cling closer. Part of your brain is stuck on the thought that anyone on the outside looking in would probably assume you were a couple. “If you’re feeling generous,” you exaggerate the flutter of your eyelashes, making Hajime snort.

Hours slip through your fingers like sand. In no time at all the sky began to darken. There’s a bubbling anticipation in your chest the later it gets. You lift your head to be met with the ochre of evening, azure blending into vivid orange at the horizon.

Issei tips his head back to take in the sky. “Fireworks are starting soon,” he announces. Tooru’s eyes flicker to you. The tangible sense of finality that had permeated the afternoon comes to a long awaited fulcrum. You’re tempted to linger amongst the stalls, simply to vy for extra time.

“You two should go and find somewhere to sit,” Tooru insists, shaking his finger from Hajime to you, “We’ll go grab some more food and join you later”.

Hajime levels him with a flat look. “All three of you are needed for that?”

“Yes,” Tooru smiles back, an intensity to his expression. You shift your weight from left foot to right and wait with bated breath.

After a moment of anticipatory silence, Hajime exhales his acquiescence and turns to you. “Come on then. Let’s find a spot”.

You’re pulled along with him, casting a lasting glance toward your friends and their encouraging gestures as you go. He leads two steps ahead, shoulders drawn to his ears, which are now notably pink. The fingers around your forearm are clammy and loose enough that you could break free. Instead, you overturn your wrist and slide up into his palm, aligning your hands to properly hold him. You squeeze three times, and the rigidity in his posture lessens.

Hajime leads you away from the crowded centre toward the river bank as the display starts in an explosive burst. Couples and families have dispersed there to watch the fireworks. When he manoeuvres himself to his knees you bend to sit beside him, the soft blades of grass flattened under your weight.

The fireworks go on for close to half an hour, great pulsing strobes, fiery dandelions and starbursts of light brightening both the sky and the water. You hear nothing over the noise, not even your own breathing. A streak of gold shoots up, few becoming many, fizzling into pinpricks of light mimicking fireflies.

You wonder after it ends, "Are the Californian displays better?"

Hajime binks at you, registering the question. He makes a contemplative sound. "Bigger, yeah. Especially on the fourth of July," he brings your joined hands over his lap and you stare as he absentmindedly strokes the back of your knuckles. "Wouldn't say that makes it better. Better depends on the company".

You mumble your agreement, "Think the others missed it?"

"Would be pretty hard to miss," he smirks softly, falling into a comfortable silence. Childlike laughter chimes around you, sparklers of every colour glowing etching names and shapes into the darkness. “They’ll be around here somewhere”.

You lift your gaze, staring at his profile. Your eyes traced the line of his jaw up to the delicate shell of his ear. “Hey,” you mumble, drawing his attention away from the surroundings. Speckles of light reflect in his irises as he turns to face you, cheekbones burnished with a soft red afterglow. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something”.

His brow arches in lieu of a response. Every movement he made you mirrored without meaning to. Quieter than before, you start, “I…” and as fast as it comes your resolve withers. Stretches and thins into weak, fibrous threads.

“What’s wrong? Is it that bad?” he tries for a grin. Hajime puts on a brave face for you, he always does. But you can hear the genuine concern in this voice, and it spurs you on.

"Just don't want you to think I'm being selfish".

“You can be selfish sometimes," Hajime argues.

“Even with you?”

“Especially with me”.

You scrunch your eyes shut.

Hajime frowns and rushes to wipe the stray tear with his thumb, swiping right through it like spider silk. "Take your time," he murmurs, hands an unsteady counterpoint to the surety in his voice. Your heart beats, a desperate rattling behind your ribs. Trembling hands, damp skin. The swoop in your stomach that makes you feel as though your body is precariously balanced on a cliff's edge. This could be everything you’ve ever wanted. This is it.

A slow burn has to catch fire eventually.

So you reach inside and twist the spigot of your heart. A trickle becomes a flood fit to burst. It’s all encompassing, like love and heartbreak at the same time. You look at him and blurt, tremulously, “I’m in love with you,” then wince for having said it, as if you hadn’t really meant to.

“I have been for as long as I can remember. You’re my best friend and I was scared to say it and…” you continued, voice all in a rush, with the pained expression of someone who hadn’t meant to say that either, “I still am. Scared, that is. I'm sorry it took this long. My feelings for you were always at odds with my fear of losing you. And I’m sorry if it’s selfish. I know we don’t have much time left until you leave, and this could make everything weird, but you deserve to know that you're loved. That I love you. And—really, Hajime, if you could just stop me whenever you feel like it that would be great,” you snapped your mouth shut, white hot with embarrassment.

Hajime remained motionless, jaw slack and muscles wire-tight with tension for a long, sickening moment. The sting has you backing off, away, trying to think of something to explain, some excuse—

—Hajime surged forward and kissed you.

It is not like you imagined. There's nothing slow about it, no hesitance nor gentility. Hajime kissed as if trying to press the full weight of his want upon you. As if gravity were a mere suggestion. You suck in a sharp, surprised breath. Relaxing into it your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders to pull him impossibly close, drinking in his soft shudder when you brush the nape of his neck, making all the little hairs there stand endwise.

Hajime's lips are smoother than they look. His hands roam over your hips, kneading the soft parts of your body, and you give way to indulgence. You tilt to kiss his shallow cupid's bow, down to the corner of his mouth. Teeth nibble at your lower lip, the tip of his tongue hatching hundreds of butterflies in your stomach as he traces the seam with promise.

Another loud bang startles you out of the kiss. Laughter and whispers. You sharpen to the surroundings, noting the distant acrid smell of smoke. Rather than release you, Hajime wrapped his arms around your waist and tucked his nose into the hollow where your jaw and neck met. Faint stubble tickles your throat. Your heartbeat clamours in your ears, the blood in your body blush rushing to your head.

"Sorry," you hear him say. His lips drift across your skin as he speaks. The apology fills you with immediate dread. "Should've asked before I did that," he continued quietly.

"Fuck. Is that all?" you slump in his grip with a quiet, wet laugh. "You scared me".

Hajime rears back to look at you, enough room to share a shallow exhale. His palm, large and rough, rose to cradle your cheek. He leans his forehead against yours. You feel like you’ve eaten the sun, brimming with inexpressible tenderness.

"Sorry," he repeats, understanding washing over his expression and a sheepish, fond smile playing on his lips. Pinker than before, not cold bitten, but kiss bitten. "Waited to do that for a long time," his eyes soften in the shadows, half lidded as they flit across your features.

"You have?"

"Used to think you would be my first kiss. First everything, really," Hajime's smiles broadens at your uncertainty, awed and dumbfounded, as he maps out the curve of your jaw with his thumb. Light over your fluttering pulse point. His hand drops and the heat lingers on your neck. He swallows, a sobering moment. "I love you too. Not sure if there was ever a time that I didn’t," he pauses then, looking out toward the orange glow flickering through the treeline, expression unguarded and open. “I kept trying to find opportunities to tell you. I didn't know how. Thought it wouldn't be...”

"Fair?" you finish for him. Of course.

The bonfire has been lit. Cheers can be heard across the river. Your thoughts splinter, stuck in the present while wondering if the others found their way, or if they were hidden somewhere, watching it all unfold. The mental image of them crouched in a random bush together makes you snort, and Hajime's brow pinches.

"Just," you rush to explain, grasping his forearm. You're halfway into his lap. When had that happened? "I imagined the guys hiding somewhere trying to spy on us. S'stupid".

An impish grin graced Hajime's face, ducking his chin as though to hide it. "I wouldn't put it past them," he says. And it hits you that—Hajime has always looked at you like this. Has been saying he loved you, for a long time.

You dither, your skin suddenly cool, and your palms clammy. "Hajime," you say at the same time as he begins to speak.

"Oh—you can—"

"No, you".

"I was going to say we should head back," his voice is infused with fond exasperation, gaze dipping to your union. He clears his throat, "For some privacy. I can't touch you the way I want to, out here".

“Right, right,” you nod slowly through the rush of adrenaline. It prickles in your fingers, the skin on your arms pebbling as Hajime eases you to your feet and a strong arm snakes around your waist. His lips brush your cheek.

“This okay?”

Melting into the crook of his elbow like it was a space carved just for you, you return a kiss to his jaw and tell him, “You don’t need to ask”.

“Noted,” he says roughly.

The walk to the ryokan is a blur. You hardly remember the faces of those you passed. The dancers had been bright in your periphery, their movements reduced to streaks of colour, and every beat of the taiko drum thundered in your chest.

The quick text you sent to the group chat receives an overwhelming litany of winking emoticons and exclamation marks. Inwardly you hope Hajime doesn’t read them until after—whatever it is you’re heading back to do. Hajime notices. “What’re they saying?”

“That, uh,” the phone screen dims as you lock it and shove it deep into your pocket. Your legs keep moving. “They promised not to be back for a while,” you shared a meaningful look and wet your lips at the ideas flitting through your mind. The taste of him lingers. Takoyaki, toothpaste and lip balm.

Together you stumble through the lobby to your room. Hajime remains close at your heel; not once do his hands leave your waist, steadying your movements. You feel drunk. Exhilarated and swept up in the newness of it, as if in a free fall. The keycard almost slips from your trembling fingers as the door beeps open. You step into the shadowed genkan and swivel to take his face into your hands. Another beep as the door closes. You press yourself to Hajime’s front and kiss him. Natural as anything.

Hajime leads you deeper into the room. The tatami yields under your feet. He sighs blissfully as your tongue swipes along the seam of his mouth, opening up for you and coaxing you in. It’s languid and without demand. The soft, wet sound makes your skin hot. You shudder as he sucks on your tongue, letting go to take the flesh of your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Need you. On the bed,” you murmur, threading your fingers into his cropped hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. Starting at the crown, you make your way down the back of his head to the nape of his neck where you found him to be sensitive. He shudders, goosebumps spreading over his skin, and arousal seeps through your core.

“Anything you want,” he breathes. A frisson of anticipation zips up your spine when he steps forward to crowd you against the bedroom door, fumbling at the handle. It swings open and your stomach tightens at the abrupt inertia, stumbling onto the bed together with an oomph.

Hajime rises onto his forearms, flicks on the lamplight before bracing either side of your head. His nose bumps yours, a warm puff of air against your mouth as he bends his knees, slotting your hips together. You kiss him again. It’s more of a press of mouths, because you can’t stop smiling, and neither can he.

The outline of his cock is pressed hot against you. You hook your heels into his lower back and breathe his name into his mouth. Flint sparks in your belly as he instinctively ruts forward, rising frantically to meet him. Lips part above your own in a shaky groan, quivering as he deepens the kiss.

There’s tension buzzing under your skin, the restless, pleasant kind that diffuses into every fibre of muscle and leaves you shaking. A soft hitch of breath. You rock your hips in search of relief, feeling his cock hard in the tight confines of his jeans. “More,” your voice dwindles into a weak moan.

“Slow down,” he calls to you, gentle and placating in a way that makes your eyes sting. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” and you wish that were true.

The rustle of fabric as you undress is inordinately loud in the intimate atmosphere he draws you into. Hajime’s eyes deign to stray from you as he shucks his jacket off and pulls his shirt over his head. The blush on his chest looks like the aftershock of a shot of sake; colour that seeps through his body and stains his skin. He’s gorgeous in the warm dim light, emphasising the shadows of his pecs and the downy hair on his navel. You trace a finger through it and preen at how his abdomen clenches.

A rough hand slips behind your knee, not quite prying them apart. Hajime thumb strokes the skin there. “Can I taste you?”

Desire tugs at the base of your spine, heart racing. You’re wet. You can feel the cool kiss of air between your thighs. With a surge of want they fall open to him. The quiet hitched breath doesn’t escape you as he looks at you.

Palms smooth down the backs of your thighs. They ache and stretch to accommodate him. Hajime descends, forging a languorous path of wet kisses on his way. Your stomach twists in anticipation when he blows lightly over your pussy, bringing your legs up to straddle his head, kneading the soft flesh there.

Hajime’s eyes can’t find a place to call home. Flitting from your sex to your chest to your face, mouth hovering just above where you want him. Even so you find yourself wanting to kiss him again. Wanting for more hands, more mouths, more time to learn him with.

“You’re beautiful,” he rasps, pressing praise into the delicate skin there. It’s the expression on his face that makes you throb. The intense, unabashed want. You’ve never seen him look like that. “You’ll tell me what you like, yeah?”

You concede with a barely audible mumble, unable to trust your voice. The corner of Hajime’s mouth quirks into a smirk. Then his thumbs are tucking into the innermost creases of your thighs, gently spreading your folds. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit before licking a broad stroke through your folds.

Forcing his eyes open, Hajime clutches at the fat around your hips. He laps at your pussy, alternating between slow and fast, firm and languid, finding a rhythm that plays your body until your hips are rolling against his face. You cling to the bedsheets, head dropping back into the pillows. “Like that. Hajime,” you gasp as flickers back and forth over your clit, breathlessness abated by the sudden rush of air to your lungs. “Fuck. Don’t stop—!”

You hear his deep inhale, and his eyes scrunch shut with a long groan as he keeps pace. It sends an echo of pleasure through you—makes you clench around nothing, an innate plea from your body. He kisses your pussy, open mouthed, sweet and precise. Heat gathers in your belly like a solar flare. The pressure has you bursting at the seams.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you say, voice caught in your throat. Your thighs wrap around his head, toes curling. He doesn’t push, or adjust his pace, or let his enthusiasm get the better of him. A broken moan spills from your lips, pelvis undulating with each wave. Hajime maintains the rhythm—exactly as you need it, right as your spine arches into the sheets, and your orgasm ripples through you.

Your breathing begins to steady. Your legs fall slack, hung limp over Hajime’s shoulders. He hums, a satisfied little noise, and rests his cheek against your inner thigh as his tongue slides lazily through your folds. You take in the arousal and spit coating his cheeks, half lidded stare, the sheen of sweat on his brow, and feel a surge of affection.

Your fingertips graze his temple. His eyes flutter at the tender touch, and Hajime tips into it, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Good?” he asks, smiling.

“Good?” you repeat with disbelief. You grab at his shoulders to coax him back up, pleased when he goes willingly. You readjust as he buries his arms under you and gathers you close to his chest, kissing the corner of your lips. You turn and murmur into his mouth, “You’re a little too good at that”.

Hajime laughs, lolling his forehead to yours. “Just good at following instructions,” his voice goes tight at the pressure against his cock, your hips raised to feel him through his briefs. “Fuck”.

“If you want to,” you tease dazedly. He nips at your lip in retaliation.

“Don’t feel like we have to,” Hajime reassures after a beat, hand coming to rest on your waist. He strokes up and down your flank. “I don’t have any condoms. And I know this has been pretty fast”.

You consider him closely, love suffusing through you like a warm, pleasant fog. It spurs you to admit things you wouldn’t have otherwise. “I’m clean. We can stop if you want to,” you kiss his cheek, “But I’ve waited enough. I want you,” you kiss the bridge of his nose, “Wanna know what you feel like inside me,” you kiss his slack mouth, tasting yourself. “Want you to know what I feel like when I cum, so you can think about it when we’re apart—”

Hajime pins you to the bed like a butterfly, his jaw set tight. His eyes are dark, gone is the colour of nascent spring. You feel swallowed up by him. “Keep talking and you’re going to make me cum,” he rumbles, reaching to push down his briefs.

“I don’t care if you cum as soon as you put it in,” you squirm, tucking your chin to watch the moment his cock slips free. He sits in his palm and wraps his fingers firmly around the base, leaning deeper into the cradle of your hips, legs splayed overtop his firm thighs.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hajime replies dryly, dipping to kiss you again. You’ve lost count of how many. He positions his arm above you by the headboard and the hot weight of his cock settles on your sex. You share a soft sigh as he guides the tip through your folds, the underside nudging against your clit.

“You know what I mean,” your focus is torn between talking and angling your hips to take more of him. “Doesn’t have to be mind blowing I just—want to be with you,” you mumble, quiet like an admission, and Hajime’s concentration comes apart at the seams.

The air is stolen from your lungs as the tip slips in. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, seeking—something. Leverage. A tether. Chest to chest, Hajime presses you deeper into the mattress as his cock sinks into you. Slow, attentive to your shifting expression while you adjust to the stretch.

And when he bottoms out you feel full. He’s thick. it has a sense of contentment spreading throughout your body. Eventually, “You can move, big guy”.

Hajime gives a gasping breath, groaning your name on the next. The rough timbre of his voice makes you pulse around him. The corded muscles in his arms flex as he shifts. There’s a dull sting while he pulls out, and a startling emptiness, immediately sated as he rocks his hips forward. You arch upward, angling your hips to take him deeper, and his eyes screw shut, lips parted in a silent moan.

Hajime fucks you with slow, deliberate thrusts, gradually building a rhythm, finding a pace that you respond to. You can hardly bear to look away from him. Flushed pink with exertion, the light lovingly kissing the left side of his face, mouth swollen and red. He’s murmuring little incantations of praise that you strain to hear over the sharp slap of skin, every thrust plucking another breathless sound from your throat.

And he’s looking right back, almost reverential. A desperate pinch to his brow. You dig your heels in, nails biting at his back. It’s all you can do to hold on. His kisses grow clumsy as his attention wanes, reaching a spit-wet hand down to play with your clit as he pistons his hips.

“M’close,” he grunts like it pains him to admit.

Your ears are ringing. The sticky, wet echo reverberates around the room as Hajime fucks you. His strokes press impossibly deeper and you choke on a moan, feeling him in your throat. His fingers rub faster over your swollen clit. Pleasure spreads through your belly, blood rushing between your thighs.

“Please,” you cradle his cheek, hot against your palm. He takes it in his free hand, interlocking your fingers against the bedsheets. The intimacy has your mind going numb. You’ve become a knot of a person. That new vulnerability, the love he’s immolating you with, is what knocks you toward the edge. “Hajime,” you cling to him desperately. “Hajime”.

“Fuck. I’m coming, I’m—” Hajime buries his face into the crook of your neck, intermittently squeezing your hand. His thrusts are harder, sloppy. He shudders to a stop, his orgasm carving him straight down the middle with a drawn out moan.

The tension seeps from him all at once. You laugh breathlessly at his collapse, the weight both comfortable and bruising. His pelvis is nestled perfectly against your clit, and every twitch creates another wave of pleasure. You undulate your hips to chase the friction.

The only indication that Hajime notices is the smile curling against your throat. He lets his lips drift across your pulse, folding his arms around yours until the world and it’s axis are just that—Hajime. Without needing to ask, he stays close and circles his hips even as his cock softens inside you, tipping you over the precipice.

Time is difficult to measure while swaddled in your intimate little bubble. You’re not sure how long you spend simply holding one another, commiting how the other feels to memory. Hajime kisses your forehead. “I love you,” he says.

“Love you,” you croak back unattractively. He flinches at the sound, and props himself up to search your face.

Eyes wide and earnest he asks, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m alright. Just processing everything,” you reply, blinking away the sting behind your eyes. Hajime doesn’t look convinced.

“Tell me,” he gently encourages. There’s an anxious edge to his tone that you want rid of.

“Besides the fact that I had sex with the guy I’ve been in love with since middle school and everyone is going to know that when they get back?” you laugh. Hajime’s mouth curls at the sound as he carefully manoeuvres you both onto your sides. Better. “I’m just scared about what this means for us, I guess. Are we—you know, together now? Doing the long distance thing?”

Giving a thoughtful hum, he hooks your knee over his hip. Whether it’s to put off the mess a little longer or keep you close, you’re not going to complain. “I want to be with you,” he says.

“Even though we’ll be…” you squint as you think and reach inward for the specific number “…five thousand three hundred and fourteen miles apart?”

“You looked that up?” Hajime’s smile widens, dopey and fond in a way that makes your heart ache. “But yeah. We’ll take it one step at a time”.

“Then what’s the next step?”

“Next?” he says. Another tender kiss to your temple, a deep, pensive inhale. “Next, we use the onsen”.

EXTRA:

You can’t be sure how long you stand there, sluggish and unblinking, fixated on the distant threads of grey cutting across an otherwise dark sky. It felt dissonant to the torrential downpour in your chest.

A warm body comes up behind you. Issei rests his chin on your crown, rubbing it back and forth as Takahiro knocks your elbows together, “Ready to go?”

No, you think. After a few beats of silence you phone buzzes in your hand and you scramble to check it. The background is the picture Takahiro took of you and Hajime by the lake, in a world of your own. A notification bar cuts across the screen.

Hajime (03:34): I love you. I’ll call when I land.

You swallow that thought and uproot yourself, “Yeah. Yeah I think so”.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #seijoh 4 x reader #haikyu x reader

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dwaekkicidal · 3 months

Note

Hii 🫶🏻

First off: I have to tell you your Han series has me in a chokehold I CAN NOT get over it! 😍😍 it just hit all the right spots 😍😫

I don’t know if your request are open but if they are could I request with Han and female reader where Han is jealous/possessive of his girlfriend? Maybe because she is still in the same friend group with her ex or if you prefer give it any other motivation. It can be either swf or nswf, do as you prefer really (but if it is nswf could you make the reader to have a big breast and Han with a 🍒fixation maybe?)

Anyway I love you blog! Have a nice day! 🫶🏻😘

me when i get to self insert myself into a fic cause i have big boobies😼 ALSO TY ASDHJKASDJK i kept feeling really insecure about that series but its getting so much love :''))) im happy you are enjoying it as well as my blog <3

Cherries

˚ʚHan Jisung x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.8k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, reader has big boobs but no other physical features described, ex has they/them pronouns, kinda out of character ji?, exhibitionism, nipple play, brief mentions of p in v

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Han’s eyes were narrowed, so sharp that you could cut diamonds with it. He watched intently as you conversed casually with your friend group. It’s not something he thought he would ever see himself getting genuinely mad over, but the familiar face in the crowd made his blood boil. Had this exact situation taken place more than a year ago, Jisung would have been an anxious mess. Probably would be fiddling with his jacket’s sleeves and restlessly bouncing his leg while his mind went to the worst places possible. But now, after dating you for over 2 years, he was more confident in himself.

Don’t be fooled! He still gets jealous easily. Very easily… but it doesn’t make him as angsty as it used to. Nowadays all he feels is anger. The only thoughts that fill his mind are ones along the lines of “How dare that person talk to my girlfriend like that. Who do they think they are?” while strangers blatantly flirted with you, and he would make fun of them with words like “Did you see their face when you rejected them?? Fucking loser lol” when you would make a face and deny them before running back into his arms.

But those were with strangers. Not with your stupid ex. The same ex who made you hesitant going into this relationship with Han in the first place. And the same ex that managed to snake their way back into your friend group. While his thoughts were about the same, Han wasn’t very keen on taking his eyes off of them. The trust was still there with you, but he knew better than to trust your ex. The slimy, sugar-coated lies they told the group wouldn’t work on him.

A hand being placed on his shoulder cut him from his thoughts. He was in full fight mode and completely missed the way you walked up to where he was on the couch. The game room the group had rented out for a few hours was filled with their booming voices and a random playlist off of somebody's Spotify. Some people were playing pool while the others stood nearby to watch and instigate mini brawls here and there. He was the only one who idly sat on the couch, drink in hand.

You knew he was in guard dog mode because of your ex’s presence so you made sure to break your attention from the group regularly to check up on him. Only this time he accidentally ignored you, so you made your way towards him. “You okay, Ji?” You smiled sideways and tilted your head, stealing a sip from his soda and settling yourself between his legs. Immediately all the anger drained from his body and he smiled up at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and he sat up, pulling you closer as he nodded.

“Yeah... Sorry haha.” You smiled sweetly and placed his cup on the coffee table, wrapping your arms around his neck once the cup was safely set down. “It’s okay, I know the situation is a little uncomfortable.” You whisper and tighten your hold around him, squeezing him lovingly and giggling to yourself when he rests his cheek against your chest. He grins like an idiot at his personal pillow and shoves his face harder until you eventually get red in the face and push him back. “Hey now… We’re still in public.”

“That can change. Let’s go home right now and I’ll show you a good time?” He smirks and pulls you closer. His chin rests against the top of your chest and he looks up at you with puppy eyes and his signature pout. “C’monn… I’ve been good all day.” His hands drop down to your hips, digging his fingers into them as his voice drops an octave, “‘Promise to show you a good time. You know Hannie always takes care of his baby-”

Your name gets called and the both of you jump. You chuckle and turn in his grasp, now standing sideways to respond to the person. He let his eyes return to your group, simply curious about who you interrupted his begging but was made even angrier by the expression that painted your ex’s face. They were frowning deeply behind their drink and glaring at the two of you, obviously wired up about his hands that were wrapped around you. Han stared back with the same fire, knowing all too well what the other person wanted. But then he smiled to himself.

As you casually chatted with your friend, Han let his hand fall down to your waist. He did it at an angle that only showed it off to your ex, making them watch as his hand slipped under your shirt. The fabric bulged out as he grabbed a handful of your tits, kneading the flesh there as they held eye contact. Eye contact that was held as he leaned in, hiding his face from everybody else as he wrapped his lips around your clothed nipple. He made a show of even sticking his tongue out and licking your nipple over your shirt while his other hand continued to squeeze the other boob from, what seemed like, the inside of your bra

Han’s ego inflated to the size of the sun as he watched your ex’s jaw drop. Their eyes went up to your face and, besides the blush that covered it, there wasn’t a single reaction. You were so used to it that the obscene action didn’t even make you flinch. Which only pissed your ex off more. They huffed and shook their head, walking to the door and mumbling something along the lines of ‘Fuck this.’ While everybody’s attention turned to the first person to leave the function, you turned to your boyfriend and shook your head at him. “Really? All that about behaving too.”

“Not my fault their edgy ass didn't like it. I licked it so it’s mine.” You laughed and parted from your boyfriend, returning back to the pool table. After that, it didn’t take long for everybody to separate. The people who didn’t have the balls to be the first to leave shortly made their way out after your ex did. Your boyfriend was one of them as well and quickly made it obvious to you that he genuinely wanted to leave soon, so you both bid your farewells and made your way outside.

The second your food hit the concrete, Jisung dragged you to the nearest empty alleyway. One that, if the sun wasn’t already set, would have been very easy to look down and see the two of you. Alas, your boyfriend did not have a single care about that. If anything, the thought of somebody seeing you only egged him on.

Han shoves you into the brick wall, slamming his lips against yours and running his hands all over your body. They started at your thighs, where he squeezed the flesh of your thighs before sliding up to your hips and doing the same. Then his hands rested at your hips for a moment. He was too distracted pushing his tongue past your lips to continue on with his expedition. Once you both found a comfortable rhythm and your hands ran up his arms, he started moving again.

This time he slowly ghosted his hands up your stomach and stopped at your chest where he squeezed your boobs tightly. Then he pulls away from your lips, smirking at you and pecking your cheek before dipping his head down. You feel his lips against your neck and you moan quietly before rolling your neck to the side, giving him more space to work with. He doesn't linger there for long though. As much as your boyfriend loves marking you up, he only leaves a single one to your neck before he dips even lower.

He leaves a trail of kisses on his way to your boobs and, before you have the chance to react or push him away, his hands tug your shirt up to your neck. “Ji- Wait until we get home, baby. We shouldn’t do this he-” He cuts you off by nibbling your right nipple through your bra. His other hand slides under the bottom hem of your bra, grabbing a handful of your boob and rubbing that nipple between his middle knuckles. You moan loudly and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging it in hopes that he would pull away but also stop and just take you to do this at home.

He moans against your clothed nipple and licks it seductively through the fabric, looking up at you with those brown boba eyes. Despite his lack of words, you already know what those pretty eyes want. You bite your lip and nervously look towards the entrance of the alley, watching as cars dart back and forth. But no people. “F-Fuck. Fine. But make it quick!” He smiles widely against you and nods.

His head pulls away from you for a moment, only to allow him to reach around and undo your bra. He doesn’t even bother taking it off of you, he just pushes it up with your shirt and dives back in. “Mine.” A loud moan leaves your lips as he suddenly bites the side of your tit, then he apologetically licks over his teeth marks. “Yours.” He smiles and grabs both of your boobs, fondling them as he alternates his attention to each nipple.

“God. I fucking love your tits, Jagi. And they’re all mine, right?” You nod and throw your head back as you moan, gripping his strands even tighter than before. He moans and bucks his hips into the air. “Answer me.” One of his hands moves down to your thighs and slides up under your skirt. It dips deeper, rubbing your clit through the fabric of your panties before wrapping around behind you and grabbing a handful of your ass cheek. “Jagiya… Say. It. A-gain.” He lands a sloppy slap to your ass with each word, smiling into your boob when your legs clench together.

“‘M yours, Ji! Please, babyy~” He wastes no time after that, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to poke out. The hand that was on your ass pumps his dick a few times as his other pushes your leg up, holding it up and giving him space to fuck into you. His mouth finally releases your nipple in favor of poking his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he pushes in. Both of you moan at the feeling and lock eyes for a moment before he leans in and pushes his lips against yours.

He pulls away and leans down again, wrapping his lips around your neglected nipple. Then he tests the water with slow thrusts. Ones that speed up rather fast once he realizes how deep he can go in this position. The grip he has on your hips is bruising as he starts to slam his hips into yours.

“Mine. All fucking mine.”

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader smut #skz x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung x reader smut #han jisung imagines #han smut #han x reader #han x reader smut #han imagines

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heartsforseo · 6 months

Text

Strawhats with a Lolita member

Summary: The straw hats just boarded into a new island. But, not like any others. This island was all white and black. Until they met you. The reader also has Daki's demon art technique. This was the request REQUEST are open (IM BEGGING) word count: 1.6k

The straw hats first met you on a gloomy island. Due to the lack of vibrant colors, everyone's in formal and dark clothing. Everyone except you. Your background was a blur. You grew up on the other side of the island and only come to the town when you need something.

Today was always the same. You wore your tall heels and grabbed your ribbon bag. You looked at your mirror one last time to check your makeup and fix your black and pink hair.

You leave your pastel house and start walking to the town. Your frilly dress bounces on every step you make, along with all the little decorations and the big ribbon on your back. Your creamy stockings hug your smooth and perfect thighs. Your parasol, walking beside you, waiting to be opened and used.

The walk to the town was short. All kinds of animals surrounded you. Hostile or not. You were an eye candy on the gloomy island, the only one with colors and a devil fruit.

You looked at the harbor. A ship has arrived. The Jolly Roger is a skull with two crossed bones underneath and a straw hat on top. You looked back at the market, trying to find people standing out.

You opened your parasol and took out your creamy fan, holding it below your eyes. There, you saw a young man with a straw hat, the captain, you presume. Next to him was a girl with tangerine hair and a man with curly eyebrows. Your island doesn't often get visitors. The last time someone came, they never went back to the sea.

There is a saying if you offend the island and do something wrong. At night, sashes will wrap around your body and slowly absorb you.

"Hey! I've been trying to call you for the last 5 minutes." The voice whined. You snapped out of your thoughts--making a little sound, and you looked at the man. He looks like a plank separated by its group.

"What's your name, and why are you the only one glowing?" the tall, lanky man asked.

"Y/n…" you quietly muttered. The fan was a great asset today. Covering your pink blush and trembling mouth.

"Hm…do you know anything about t-" "Luffy! Stop running a- A LADY~"

"Oh, uhm…" You were starting to get uncomfortable. Today was just supposed to be like yesterday and the day before. While the two were busy fighting among themselves, you had run off and went to one of the instrument stores.

There, you saw a tall man's back. He had an afro and, by the neck--an orange scarf. He also had a gold top hat and a cane on his side. The tall man turned around and, to your horror, a skeleton. Before it could open its mouth, your devil fruit accidentally activated, and your sashes were wrapped around the skeleton, ending it with a ribbon.

You gasped and mumbled a quick sorry, then left the store. Today has been unpleasant. You left the town while holding your mirror, making your hair and makeup look good. When you were away from the townsfolk, you used your fruit and made your ribbons carry you.

Various thoughts entered your mind. But the forest was calming you down. You looked around you-- and a woman with sunglasses and a bag stepped out of the shadow.

"That was an interesting ability, miss." The lady said.

You looked at the mysterious woman. Her clothes and accessories fit her. "Oh, uh, thank you!" You answered cheerfully.

"I saw a house on the other side of the island. It was hard to ignore it, especially the color the owner chose. With all the evidence I gathered, you were the legend the people were discussing. Ribbons and sash?"

You tilted your head to the side and asked, "How do you know?"

The woman chuckled and answered, "I saw what you did to my friend Brook. I asked the locals about the ribbons. They said that pirates only left their clothing behind, no bones or skin," she continued, "I must say what you're doing here is heroic. But don't you get ever tired from the lack of color?"

I left my ribbon vehicle and finally spoke, "This place wasn't white and black. It used to be full of color and life. One day, I was exploring the forest all by myself. I never made any friends. They said my style was too childish. My friends were animals, and I was hanging out with them. One of the red pandas gave me a strawberry. Instead of its usual dots, it got replaced with tiny carved ribbons. I ate it since my friend gave it to me. It tasted weird, and I passed out. When I woke up, the island had no color except for me. I want to help my people first."

The woman said, "Have you never thought you were the problem?"

I gasped. Me? What did I ever do?

"I'm not saying that you are. But what if? Me and my crew are going to depart tomorrow. I could show you around the ship. All your belongings are in the Thousand Sunny."

"I- can I at least check the ship first?"

Now, here you are in front of the Thousands Sunny. You entered the big ship, holding your fan just below your eyes. There was no one, and the only light source was on the second floor towards the back of the ship.

"Oh, by the way, my name is Nico Robin. You can call me Robin."

After the tour, you find out the men sleep on the first floor while the girls sleep on the second floor. Speaking of sleep, the crew arranged your corner neatly. You had your vanity and a lot of picture frames. Your bed also had a lot of frilly and curtains, and the wardrobe filled with Lolita and Victorian dresses.

"Let's go to the last room. The dining room." Robin said.

There, you two entered the room. All of the straw hat members except Robin were eating happily.

"I'll introduce you to all of them. The man with the straw hat is our captain, Luffy. The girl with the orange hair is our navigator, Nami. The guy with the long nose is our sniper, Ussop. The guy wearing a suit is the ship's cook, Sanji. The reindeer is the ship's doctor, Chopper. The tall man is a cyborg and is the crew's shipwright, Franky. The skeleton, the guy you packaged neatly, is the musician, and his name is Brook. Lastly, the Fishman is the helmsman, and his name is Jinbei. Let's eat with them."

You walked behind Robin, your fan still in front of your face.

"Oh, it's you!" Nami yelled. "LADY~" Sanji shouted.

You winced from the roaring noise and instinctively opened your umbrella to avoid them. Robin noticed you shifting and held your hand, then closed your umbrella. Sanji served you food, and you sat on the counter.

That night was lovely and fun. The crew, even though it looked chaotic at first, was pleasant. Everybody's different personalities make you fit in like the last puzzle piece. The ship made you feel needed. It made you feel wanted.

You left the dining area and stared outside. In front, you could see the vast ocean. But if you look back, you can see your colorful island. Colorful island?

Was I the problem all along?

"So, do you accept my offer now?" You look beside you to see Robin also staring at the island. You closed your umbrella and shifted your body, staring at her.

"I do."

The next day, you woke up in your bed. Last night was a bit of a blur. Luffy was cheering that someone new joined, and all the crew were doing whatever. You went to the girl's room and immediately passed out.

You stood up and looked at the mirror, observing the heart-shaped beauty mark below your right eye. You took out some new clothes, a white dress stopping at your thighs. You also took a pair of socks that reached your knees and arm warmers, stopping at your shoulders.

You look at the room Nami and Robin, sleeping peacefully.

After showering, you went to the girl's room and put your hair into pigtails, using two large ribbons as hair ties.

You finally left the room and went down to the first floor. There, mostly all of the straw hats were chilling.

"Are we leaving now?" You asked

"Yeah, the log post finally worked, and we're now going to the next island," Franky replied

You stared back at your island, slowly drifting away.

"I hope the animals will be--"

"I saw some marines just east from here," Zoro yelled from the top nest.

The next thing you knew, cannonballs were being launched at you.

Half of the crewmembers were still asleep. The only ones awake were Sanji, Zoro, and Jinbei.

"Don't worry. There are only two ships. I can handle it." You said.

The three looked at each other and nodded. Then, all went back to work.

You used your ribbons and stretched them to make them larger and larger. You wrapped the two ships like a present and ended it with a large bow.

You turn your gaze toward the direction of your island, feeling a sense of loss as it disappears from your view. However, the presence of your friends by your side gives you a glimmer of hope and comfort. It's hard to adjust, but having friends nearby makes it peaceful.

A/n: OMGG I FINISHED IT IN A DAY!! I STARTED ON 11 AM AND FINISHED AT 3 PM I AM SO SO HAPPY!! I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH SINCE I WANTED TO DRESS LIKE LOLITA BUT NEVER GOT THE CONFIDENCE. ANYWAYS TY ANON!! I LIKE BEING A WORKAHOLIC

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minv97 · 1 year

Text

˖°. ˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ ˖°.

Warning nsfw content Minors dni!!!

100 followers woo! I wanted to celebrate by writing something with Jihoon as ever since Move came out he's been wrecking me :(( also as part of the celebration my asks will be open for 24 hrs so go crazy while you can. My inbox will always be open so don't be scared to interact with me! I'm shy but nice I promise.

This is my first time writing for a member of Treasure, they're actually my ult group and I've been a teume for a good 4 years and I'm so so happy they're getting the recognition they deserve because they're very talented and handsome!

Jihoon's basically a horny MF and finds (fem) reader's dildo... Enjoy!!! <3

This yours?” You look over at Jihoon at the exact time he pulls out your shiny, pink dildo from your night drawer and you swear the nosey bastard did it on purpose, you roll your eyes at him and march over to where he stands.

“Why are you going through my stuff?” You snatch the object from his hands and go to put it back in its original location but Jihoon stops you, pulling on your wrist and yanking you towards him in one swift motion. “Wanna show me how you use it?”

You feel heat rush to your face but Jihoon ignores this, intertwining your fingers together as he walked you over back to your bed.

“Show me, I’m curious now.” He’s teasing you can tell, his eyes are crescent moon from the smile that reaches his eyes and were decorated with black eyeliner and blue eye contacts from earlier’s party, that being the only reason the pretty pain in the ass was still around since he claimed to be too drunk to go home by himself but now you’re realizing he tricked you, what he really meant was he just wanted to fuck you.

“Jihoon-” Your words get cut off by him literally shoving you into your back and you land on the bed with a bounce, the mattress under you dips as Jihoon is quick to climb over you, chain dangling in your face as he grabs a hold of both your wrists and pinning them above your head and just like that you’re trapped under him.

“When’d you get it?” His feathery bangs tickling you as he dips his head closer to you, nudging his nose into the crook of your neck for a few moments before he presses a single kiss there to the skin. “You smell like strawberries by the way.”

“I can’t remember, it’s been awhile.” You answer truthfully and Jihoon withdraws himself from you but only enough to you look you in your eye when he speaks. “Wanna play with it?”

Jihoon was too tired for his own good- the evidence clear in his eyes and you can tell every time he looks at you but his thirst to fuck you overpowered it. Sleep can wait, especially when you were his main priority.

You were tired too of course, but Jihoon knew you’d give in to him. He saw the way you had eyed him all night, like a fat kid eyeing candy in a store and knew you wanted it just as bad as he did, can feel the heat from between your legs on the palm of his hand when he releases one of your wrists to feel and palm your clothed pussy just to make sure his intuition was right and like usual it was.

“Can I please?” He almost sounds like he’s begging with the way his voice draws the words out against your neck, softly this time. You can feel his dick against your thigh, all hard and eager for you and your mouth almost begins to water just as much as your pussy has when the idea of taking him in your mouth corrupted your brain.

“Say please again.” You’re only teasing but you’re not surprised when Jihoon looks in your eyes again, a sinister grin grows on his lips and without batting an eyelash said please, this time even softer and he’s running the tip of the dildo along your lower lips.

The second you give Jihoon permission to touch you further he latches his lips on yours. He doesn’t stop to take the time to remove your underwear, simply pulls it off to the side and he doesn’t give a warning before he’s pushing the head of it past your lips and inside of you, your hole practically throbbing and clenching around the toy immediately and you gasp against Jihoon’s lips.

He finally releases your wrist to lift up on his elbow and watch the way the dildo slides back in and out of you, mouth drooling at the way you were already making a mess, your arousl dripping from the dildo and down your thighs every time he slid the dildo out of you just to push it right back in, your pussy squelching and sucking it right back in greedily and you lay there, hands gripping the sheets around you with your eyes closed and lips slightly apart, taking everything he gave you and the sight of you makes him chuckle you’re so adorable.

“Tell me,” he starts, you’re barely listening he can tell so he slides the dildo out of you, resorting to rubbing the tip around your clit for only a second before he stops that too, ignoring the pout on your lips as you open your eyes and give him a pleading look. “Does it feel better than me?”

“You want me to compare a toy to you?” You scuff, rolling your eyes.

Jihoon looks down at you expecting and waiting for an answer, you realize he’s serious and he’s not moving a second more until you give him an answer and you sigh in annoyance. “Of course you feel better, Jihoon. Always prefer you.”

“Yeah?” He’s smiling now because of the way your feeding his ego. “Does that mean you’ll throw this thing away then?”

“What about when you’re not around?”

“Slut.” Jihoon rolls his eyes at you playfully, tossing the dildo somewhere behind him and he’s back all over you, kissing along the exposed skin of your breast peaking out from your shirt and hands gripping your waist tightly, you only chuckle and savor the feel of him, running a hand through the back of his silky hair. “Yeah, but I’m your slut.”

Jihoon perks up at that, you can see how red his ears are getting from your comment and the effect of it all in his actions when he starts to trail his kisses lower and lower along the curves of your body until he’s at the hem of your skirt, he’s growing tired and impatient and can’t wait to have a taste of you, making sure he vocally tells you this before bunching your skirt up around your thighs for better access.

Silly of you to think Jihoon would finally stop dragging this out and allow you to finally get your sweet release, it’s like you almost forgot you were dealing with Jihoon. He’s trying to kill you, you’re almost positively sure of it when he presses his tongue flat against the seat of your underwear, can feel the very tip his nose rubbing against your clit as he leaves a long, slow lick up your clothed pussy, leaving his own wet patch of saliva.

He glances up at you with his pretty eyeliner and blue eyes, crescent shaped and disappearing behind his innocent smile. “Can a dildo do that?”

“Oh my god, Jihoon.”

“Calm down, I’m going to take care of you, baby. Don’t I always?”

After finally putting you through what felt like enough torture he pulls your underwear off to the side, he’s only kissed your clit but it’s enough to have your legs shaking as you struggled to hold them open.

“You’re so cute.” he presses another kiss against your clit, pushing two fingers inside of you, curling them inside of your pussy before retracting them only to slide them right back around your velvety walls, repeating the same process over and over again as he places his mouth over your clit, sucking and twirling his tongue around the bud just right to have tears pricking your waterline.

“F-fuck.” Your hands reach for something, anything and you find yourself intertwining your fingers through his dark locks, you’re not in the right mind when you begin pulling on his hair, can feel him wince slightly but he chuckles it away against your clit.

You really don’t mean to hurt the poor boy, but it’s hard, especially when he’s twirling his tongue around your clit so well and curling his fingers against your plushy walls. You had to admit the dildo couldn’t amount to Jihoon- hell, no other man could, but you’d have to keep that secret to yourself, didn’t need his ego getting any bigger than it already was.

“I’m so close.” You’re speaking absentmindedly, Jihoon knows how dumb you get, used to not receiving a response from you most of the time so the fact your even communicating now is surprising, thinks you must be feeling good and it’s enough to put a proud smile on his face as he glances up at you while he catches his own breath.

“Go ahead and cum baby, didn’t I tell you I’d take care of you?”

“Thankyou- thankyou so much.” You’re rambling off a bunch of thank you’s as your legs close around his head, unable to control your hips grinding against his mouth and using him like your own personal little toy and he enjoys every second of it as you cum under his fingers and tongue, lapping up all of your juices until it’s dripping from his chin and it’s the only taste he can remember.

You’re tired but you use the rest of your strength to pull him up to your mouth, kissing him and tasting your self in every corner of his mouth until you both need air.

“I promise when I wake up tomorrow I’ll suck you off until my throats sore and I can’t.” You’re still coming back to your senses but your sentence still makes Jihoon laugh, he pecks you on your lips once more before falling back onto the mattress next to you, throwing an arm and leg around you as he snuggled into your side. “No need for that sweetheart, just throw the damn dildo away.”

You can find all of my work under #minv97

#kpop smut #smut #minv97 #skz smut #treasure smut #treasure hard hours #treasure hard thoughts #park jihoon smut #park jihoon treasure smut #park jihoon hard hours

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kierancaz · 1 year

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Soo I saw that you were looking for some writing inspiration/requests and I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a Thorin x Reader fic where Reader is part of the company and both of them really admire each other but are too afraid to admit it at first and before they confess their feelings there's some sort of miscommunication?

This just came to my mind and I hope it could inspire you a little :)

hey !! thanks so much for requesting something !! I tired my best but I have not written for Thorin before so sorry if he's a little ooc haha. Also sorry this took so damn long I kept starting and stopping and also screwed up my sleep schedule and then 3 days in a row kept getting stomach aches and just couldn’t write more than three lines T_T. If it feels inconsistent or confusing I’m sorry I got lost in the sauce and COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT I WAS DOING but I hope you enjoy anyway :)

warnings : none details : reader is human, marriage plot that isn’t super important besides like ^^ the request

pre-post edit: I just went back and read the request again and this might not actually be what you asked for so uh, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna post this anyway bc well it’s written but if you don’t like it lmk and I will try again :)

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

It was safe to stay that Thorin was not the happiest camper when you joined the company, but he couldn't deny that you intrigued him a bit. Only a little though, you must understand.

You had joined the company a fair bit later, when they were stopped by the tolls. You had arrived just before Gandalf and saw the group tied up. You were going to ignore them and just carry on your way, after all it wasn't any of your business. But watching the little hobbit try and stall for time while none of the dwarves caught on was amusing enough for you to lend your aid. You had a talent for sneaking around, you made no noise when you walked, had no scent you left behind, and with little effort could blend into any environment.

You crept up onto the rock behind where the group of dwarves was tied and dug around in your bag until you pulled out a mirror. The sun was coming up and just peaking over the rock that the trolls had been staying behind. Laying down flat you brought the mirror in front of yourself and moved it until it caught the sunlight and began to reflect it. You bounce it around for a moment, attempting to get a good angle. Finally, you hit the troll standing farthest away right in the face, there was a small noise it made but it was cut off by it's mouth turning to stone. Quickly its head and shoulders and chest also turned to stone.

"Huh, you say something?" The one troll that had been talking to the hobbit said as he turned around along with the other one that was standing over by the fire. They both gasped and the one that had been talking to the hobbit rounded on the little guy again, "what did you little ferret do?!"

"Ferret?" The hobbit stuttered for a moment, doing his best to hop away but fell on his butt. "N-Nothing, I- we didn't do anything."

"Why you little-" The troll made to grab the hobbit but you quickly adjusted your mirror and light been to hit the troll on the side of the head. It started to turn to stone and in an attempt to stop it the troll reached up to block the light but only managed to turn his hand to stone. The other troll shrieked in terror.

"The dawn will take you all!" Cried someone from atop the bolder with a booming voice. A second later he slammed his staff down and the bolder cracked in two, letting the sunlight pour through. All the trolls turned quickly to stone and the dwarves set quickly to setting themselves free. You slid back down the bolder and pocketed your mirror. For some reason, you didn't immediately leave.

"I think we owe someone our thanks." Said a older white haired dwarf as he walked up to you. Gandalf followed him.

"Y/n, fancy running into you here, though I can't say I'm upset." The old wizard smiled at you. You smiled back at him.

"Good to see you too, Gandalf." You turned and offered a bow to the old dwarf and "the name's Y/n, at your service."

The old dwarf smiled, he seemed very pleased with your politeness, and bowed back, "Balin, at yours."

"Is this the company you mentioned Gandalf?" You asked turning back to your old friend.

"What do you know of this company?" Came a rumbling deep voice from your left. You hadn't realized that someone else had joined you. His arms were crossed and judging by the slight crease in his brows he was not very happy.

"Ah- well," you cleared your throat and looked to Gandalf for help but he offered none. "You must be Thorin," you bowed the same as you did for Balin. "I know of your journey, Gandalf told me." Yes, blame the old wizard, that's fine.

Thorin turned to Gandalf with a glare, silently demanding an explanation from him. Gandalf cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet slightly, "I first asked Y/n to be our burglar, however she refused me."

"I had family business to attend to at the time." You said and Thorin turned his glare onto you, you stiffened slightly and suddenly wished you didn't say anything at all.

"What are you doing here now?" Thorin asked.

"Well... I was looking for you guys. I figured if I followed your road I'd come across you eventually."

"Why?" Thorin was not looking very pleased. You felt small under his stare and began to fiddle with your hands.

"I was hoping that, well, you may have room for another walker in your company?" Your expression changed into something unsure as you shrugged your shoulders. All Thorin did was stare and you glanced at Gandalf for help.

"She can be of use Thorin, she's very quiet this one, great for sneaking around." Gandalf nodded his staff towards you.

"She also did just save our skins." Added Balin and you were very grateful he had not walked off.

Thorin thought for a moment, but it felt like en eternity. He eyed you up and down before turning away and beginning to walk off. "Fine. But don't slow us down. If you do you'll get left behind."

You've been traveling with the company since then. So far you've made very good friends with everyone but particularly Fili, Kili, Balin and Bilbo. Over time you've also begun to greatly admire the leader of this company, Thorin.

You couldn't deny that you thought he was attractive, you had thought that from the moment you met him. But it was more than just looks you liked about him, you admired how much he cared for his people, his sense of duty to bring them back to their home in Erebor. He carries such a huge burden all on his own and is able to do it with grace and dignity, you understood a little of what that meant, though on a much smaller scale. He was brave and even though he was a king he was always first to throw himself into a fight to protect those around him. And even though he seemed cold on the surface it's very obvious that he cares for all his companions and would do whatever it took to make sure they were safe.

"Watcha lookin' at?" You jumped, Kili had his face right next to yours leaning over your shoulder. He laughed and sat on the rock next to you with his back facing the fire, you smack his arm.

"How long were you there?" You grumbled.

"Oh I don't know, long enough to notice you staring dreamily off at my uncle." He clasped his hands together out in front of him and bat his eyelashes at you in a teasing manner before bursting out laughing like someone told the most hysterical joke known to man.

"I was not! I was just thinking and I zoned out..."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say." Kili said once he stopped laughing. "You know you're so obvious right? Everyone sees it."

"Sees what?" You asked with a raised eyebrow and Kili rolled his eyes.

"That you're in love with him!" Kili hit you on the shoulder. "I think it's a good thing personally, Thorin needs someone like you. Someone fun who can lighten his mood, he's always so stoic these days, believe it or not he used to be fun."

"I'm not in love with him." You said and put your chin in your hands, your mood had soured and Kili didn't understand why. "I'm due to be married."

Oh. Oh. Thorin stopped listening.

He had realized you're staring a while ago. He thought, or maybe hoped, that you where staring at him, but it seems you really where just zoned out and didn't realize you where looking in his direction. He started paying attention more when Kili wandered over and tuned in when the two of you started talking. But now he didn't want to listen, you were probably going to go on talking about whoever it is that you're going to be married to and he didn't want to hear it.

"You ok there laddie?" Balin asked appear at his side.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" And it came out a little more snappy than he would've liked.

"No particular reason, just looked like you were staring off into space. But by your tone it sounds like something is on your mind?" Thorin thought for a moment before deciding he shook his head.

"I'm going for a walk." Was what he settled on and he got up and left.

"You what?!" Kili said in shock. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said. Once I go back home I am to be wed."

"You don't sound very happy about it..."

"I'm not." You said. "I don't want to marry him."

"Then why are you?" Kili sounded almost mad. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"Because I have to Kili. I'm the oldest in my family and with our dad dead I have to be the one to bring in money somehow. There aren't many jobs for women where I am and this guy has enough money to keep my family off the streets and well fed. The reason I decided to seek out this company and join the adventure is because this is the last one I'll be able to go on..." Kili was silent.

Suddenly he shot up on his feet and rounded the rock to stand in front of you. "Thorin is a king. We are going to reclaim our home that is filled with mountains of gold. Tell Thorin you love him and then you can be happy and save your family! It's as simple as that!"

"Thorin is a king. It's not as simple as that."

Kili was making that face he does when he's confused and upset. Eyebrows creased together, pouting, and over all looking like a sad puppy dog. "Get up," he said and tugged roughly on your arm to pull you to your feet.

"What are you doing?!" You half shouted at him as you tried to pry yourself free. "Let me go you lunatic!"

"I'm looking for my uncle." He said and you froze for a second before beginning to fight him again. "He deserves to be happy and so do you, all it takes is for you to admit your feelings to him."

"How do you know that's all it takes?" You snapped and stopped struggling for a moment. "How do you know he thinks of me in the same way I think of him?"

You were every serious, Kili however was not and was looking at you like you had just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard. He sighed exasperatedly, your face crumpled in confusion. "Where is he? Do you see, Thorin?"

You took a look around the fire, "um, no, I don't."

Thorin was walking through the woods, he could still see the campfire and hear the voices of everyone so he wasn't far if anything went wrong, but he was far enough that he couldn't properly see any of the individual figures. You had a fiancé? You were going to be married. Thorin didn't know how to describe how he was feeling in this moment. Upset? Mad? Disappointed? Perhaps blindsided was the word, but how could just being blindsided by this information be enough to make him feel this bad. Why did he even care so much?

Well actually he knew why he cared so much. It probably had something to do with that intense warmth that spread throughout him whenever he looked at you. That tightening in his chest whenever you smiled, even if it wasn't at him.

He had noticed a while back the way he was beginning to think of you, but he shoved it down. Hid it away in fear that it would start to interfere with this quest. He needed to make a conscious effort to treat you the same as everyone else. But he still always caught himself wondering if you were tired and needed to rest, if you were warm at night, if you had enough to eat or drink. After a battle or after running away from orcs he always made it a point to check on you personally and he couldn't relax until he did so.

When you first met he thought you were attractive. Just a passing acknowledgement that, for a human, you were nice to look at. But over time, after seeing the way you would blend with the others in conversation, how even though you were the best fighter you still valued the others safety and were willing to put yourself at risk, how much Fili and Kili liked you. You were so kind and unassuming and you always offered to help.

One thing that stood out to Thorin, and that he especially admired about you, was that you stood up to him. It might sound weird, but he liked that you questioned him, and when you thought he was wrong you pointed it out. It didn't happen often, but when you did say he was wrong about something you were usually right. You argued with him when no one else did and somehow he thought that was very attractive of you.

He let out a long sigh and rubbed his temples, all of this thinking was useless. And also making him feel worse, like the hole in his chest was growing. The laughing from around the fire tuned him fully back into his surroundings and with one last look around (so he could at least say he was checking the parameter) he started to head back to camp. As he exited the trees and came back into the little clearing he heard the sound of his nephew.

"Aha! There he is!" Looking to his left Thorin saw Kili and he was pulling you with him. Well, not so much pulling as he was dragging, you were tripping over your own feet with every step and looked about ready to fall.

Kili then yanked you forward, practically throwing you into Thorin with a grin on his face that Thorin just knew meant that Kili knew something he didn't. Thorin reached out and caught you before you could face plant. "Kili, what's going on?" You scoffed as you stood up straighter and brushed yourself off, you had a very sour look on your face that just made Thorin more confused and slightly concerned.

"Y/n has something to talk to you about." He said and winked before running off to go whisper about something with his brother. There was a long stretch of silence and it was very quickly becoming awkward.

Thorin cleared his throat, "there's something you wanted to talk to me about?"

You jumped slightly, Thorin was standing there, hands clasped behind his back and face as un-telling as ever. You chuckled, "oh, uh, it's nothing really. Not that important or anything, you know Kili this is just one of his- uh- things..."

Thorin just grunted in response and turned away. You probably could've used this opportunity to run away but for some reason you didn't. There was another long silence, the two of you just standing next to each other and looking at the rest of the company sitting around the fire. At some point you saw Gandalf look over at you two and when he looked away you could've sworn there was a knowing smile on his face.

"I hear you're getting married once you return home after the journey." Thorin said suddenly.

"What?" You said whirling to face him, "how do you know about that?"

"I over heard you and Kili talking about it." He answered simply and without looking at you. You creased your brows before turning back to look at the company and the fire. Thorin glanced at you, "whoever he is, he's a lucky man."

"And I an unlucky woman." You said with a huff. "I don't want to marry him."

"Oh? Why not?" Thorin asked and turned to you.

"Why? Well for one he is the most arrogant self righteous man I have ever met. He thinks he's the gods gift to man and that everyone he interacts with owes him something. The only reason I even agreed to this arrangement with him is because if I don't my family will lose everything. I much rather marry-- someone else."

After your rant Thorin was feeling significantly lighter. He caught your stutter at the end and the side of his mouth corked up. "Y/n, what was it Kili wanted you to tell me?"

You turned to look at him, eyes wide, but were comforted by the smile on his face. "Well," you said looking up and away to avoid eye contact and clasping your hands in front of you. "Kili wants me to tell you that I'm in love with you. And I am, in love with you I mean."

Thorin chuckled and you peaked back at him, he had a soft smile on his face. "Maybe you're not as unlucky as you thought armâlimê.”

You opened your mouth like you were going to say something, but then what he said seemed to register. You paused and then looked over at him, “what did you just call me?”

He smiled at you softly and took your hand and looked down at it as he spoke, “we can figure out what to do about your family’s situation after the quest, I trust it won’t be to hard to find a solution then.”

Silently your hand tightened around his, touched by what he had said. “And just for the record,” he added looking up into your eyes, “I love you too.”

From a little ways away, over by the fire, you could hear whispered cheers and groans, and the clink of coins being exchanged. You looked over and Kili grinned back, shooting you a thumbs up and you couldn’t help but laugh feelings as light as air and happier than you ever have before.

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thelovelylolly · 10 months

Text

Mistletoe

Summary: But I'ma be under the mistletoe... Warnings: none :) Notes: OKAY OKAY I KNOW ITS A JUSTIN BEIBER SONG BUT LIKE IGNORE THAT OKAY? OKAY

It was Robin who had dragged you to Steve's holiday party. Knowing Steve, you expected a packed house with alcohol and decorations being trashed, but you were wrong. It was just your friend group, along with some of the younger kids. It was nice to just relax and enjoy the holiday spirit with all of them.

But you could tell something was up with Robin. You had known her since middle school, so you could read her like a book. She seemed to be a bit more...on edge, maybe? She kept glancing around the room, bouncing her leg and biting her nails. She constantly kept looking at Steve, who would just nod towards her.

Your best guess was she planned something with Steve and was just anxious to make sure everything went right. Now, you just had to figure out what it was.

You excused yourself from your conversation with Nancy to refill your cup. You went into the kitchen and started to pour some punch from the punchbowl into your cup. You heard footsteps approach and you glanced up to see Steve.

"Hey, Steve. This is a nice little get together," you said with a smile, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah, glad you could make it," he replied, filling his own cup up with punch.

"Probably wouldn't have come if Robin didn't convince me."

Steve took a sip of his drink then turned to you. "So, uh, what do you think of Robin?"

You giggled. "She's my best friend, I love her to pieces. Why do you ask?"

"Umm, no reason, just curious," he quickly replied. He glanced at the living room and you followed his gaze.

Robin was looking at you two, and when you caught her, she quickly looked away and started talking to Nancy. You smiled.

"Yeah, I love her to pieces."

----

The party/get together went on and some of the younger kids had to go home as the night dragged on. You floated from conversation to conversation, just sipping your punch and enjoying your friends' presence. But tiredness caught up with you and yawns slipped in. Eventually, you decided to go home.

"Let me walk you to your car," Robin quickly said after you stood up and said goodbye.

You smiled at her and the two of you disappeared down the hall. Robin stopped in the doorway of the entryway while you started to wrap yourself up in your coat and scarf. You paused, looking at her.

"You okay, Rob?" You asked softly.

"Oh, um, yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just...you kinda seemed off tonight," you stepped closer, "like, a little on edge."

Robin sighed. "Do you want me to be completely honest?"

You nodded, and she went on. "It's just...I finally worked up the courage to tell you something, but when you got here, it all went out the window. I mean, I even planned something with Steve to help with telling you, so I couldn't really not do it."

You glanced up at the door frame and tilted your head to the side. "Robin-"

"All night, I've been trying to find my courage again, but seeing you just being yourself made things hard. Not in a bad way, of course, but...I didn't want to mess things up. I didn't want to ruin your night, or anyone's night."

"Rob-"

"I guess I'm trying to say that I have something to tell you, but I don't know if I-"

"Robin! Look!" You cut her off, pointing up at the door frame. She did and saw the mistletoe taped to it.

"Oh, so that's where he put it," she said.

"That's where...? Robin, is this what Steve helped you with? Is this why he asked me what I thought about you?"

You both looked down and met the other's gaze. You could see Robin start to blush, and you smiled.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" You asked, stepping closer.

Robin nodded her head. You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her close before smashing your lips to hers. You could tell she was hesitant, so you pulled away after a second.

"You okay?" You asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good- great. I'm great," she answered with a laugh. "It's just...I don't know, this is all kinda crazy, I guess?"

"Crazy how?" You started to play with the collar of her sweater, smiling at her.

"Never expected to be kissing you."

"I can say the same thing, but here we are. And, uh, you said you'd walk me to my car."

Robin smiled. "Right, yeah, but one more thing."

"Hm?"

"You can tell me if I'm going too far with this, but I feel like this is the perfect time to tell you that...I love you. And I have, for a while."

Your hands fell from her shoulders and you intertwined your fingers with hers. "I love you, too, Rob."

You both smiled as you led her out the door and walked to your car. You two were both giddy from the kiss and from just each other's presence. When you reached your car, you let go of her hand and grabbed your keys from your pocket. You opened your door and turned to her before you got in.

"By the way, the mistletoe was a cute idea," you said.

"Really? I didn't want it to be too cheesy," Robin replied, hugging herself in the cold.

You took a step closer, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Y-yeah, okay."

You got into your car and left. Robin stayed out in the cold, watching your car disappear into the night. She smiled to herself, blushing as she kicked some snow on the ground. She wondered back into the house, eager for your call tomorrow.

--------

lovely's holiday special

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fan fiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fan fic #stranger things fanfiction #lovely's holiday special

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detransftmfuktoy · 6 months

Text

(The setting/inspiration for the writing below... I want to stand on my regular crowded public bus and feel some man press his hard cock against my ass, grinding on me and using me to get himself off. Maybe if I wear a skirt, he'll pull his dick out and slide between my thighs until he cums against my covered cunt and down my legs. If it's crowded enough, I'll pull my panties to the side and let him put his cock inside me while his hands snake their way up my shirt. I want to be full of some stranger's cum. This happened as someone offered to 'hide us' so we could fuck. The stranger came and left...now I'm about to have a second stranger in me. We got ourselves situated during a stop...)

He pushed me up against the back of the bus. We were kissing as he massaged a tit under my shirt when the bus slowed. I had ignored most stops until this one. I stiffened when I saw a group of young men board the bus. I kept my eye on them.

He noticed my hesitation and stopped. He turned his head to see who I was looking at. He turned back to me and smiled. He turned again, keeping his hand on my tit, and angled just so that his shoulder was keeping me against the back of the bus. I heard one of the guys say 'Officer on deck' to which they stiffened. he whispered to me "Rub my cock again." I massaged his hard cock. He turned to them and motioned them over to us. "Sit before he yells for people to sit." The bus lurched forward as they sat in the empty seats near us. He kisses me again. He reaches under my skirt and squeezes my clit. I can't help but moan. I can sense their smirks as well as him. He ends the kiss and turns to the group.

"Cadre.."

"Boys." He motions to them in what seems to mean relax around him. "The two that need a few extra points, I have a way to earn them. I'd enjoy some privacy with this cum dumpster." There were whispers between them and two stood up. They came and stood in front of us blocking us from being seen easily.

He turned his attention back to me. As he kissed and groped me, I pulled my skirt up exposing my low-riding mini thong. I undid his zipper. As I was pulling out his cock I said to them "I don't mind an audience, if you all are fine with one." He shrugged. I heard the two turn around and felt the others' eyes. I bend over and bob on his cock a few times. I stood up and pulled him in for a kiss, then I kissed his cheek. I whispered "I was serious about nothing birth control wise and taking it. I don't think he cared but I have a feeling you'll enjoy hearing this, I'm in my ovulation window."

He smirked at me again. "The only thing you're getting from me is my cum, consequences be damned, and nothing else."

"Fine by me." I leaned back down and bobbed a few more times making sure he could slide into me easily. I stood back up, pulled my panties to the side, hooked my leg around his hip, and leaned back against the bus. With my saliva and the previous load, he slid into me with one thrust easily.

I let out a small moan. With one hand he grasped my hip and the other grabbed onto my leg. I looked at the two men watching as he took several strokes to slam into me, One was motioning to his shirt. That's when I saw the firefighter trainee shirts. Between thrusts, I said "Oh good, firefighters." They all laughed then quieted down quickly.

He slowed his pace and asked, "What did you think we were?"

"I don't know really, just really hoping not police." I panted.

"They can't bear shared transportation. I don't see cops ride ever." He laughed and went back to fucking me. I realized the one guy had been asking me to undo my blouse. I unbuttoned my blouse, bearing my bouncing tits to them.

"I hope you don't mind growing my biracial baby." He grunted as he picked up the pace quickly without making too much noise.

I smirked and replied, "Oh, I hadn't noticed…"

The others laughed because he was a good 6-8 inches taller than me, definitely outweighed me, and the contrast between his dark skin and my pale skin was an art of its own. There's no way a kid would look 100% like me with his genetics.

His only reply was bottoming out in me and pushing against my cervix. I let myself get lost in the moment. It was broken by him telling them his stop. It seemed only a couple got off at their stops. I pulled him close and we kissed for a bit.

"Getting close…" he panted.

I looked up to see which stop was up and there were only three left before the end of this line. It was a thin crowd minus what I now had figured out were firefighter trainees. I knew now that even with a block the driver most likely knew what was happening although I couldn't tell either way. I glanced at the others and wasn't surprised to see some pants now sporting a bigger bulge.

I whispered into his ear as I made eye contact with one of the guys, "Shall I take care of them since they helped you?"

He quickly glanced at the closest trainee and smirked at me. "Fine by me."

I let out a moan into his ear that had been building up. The bus stopped and a few people got off. He waited and then went back to long strokes once the bus pulled away from the stop. He began to pound harder and faster but erratically and I felt him start to tense up. I pulled us close, as close as possible, and pulled him into me as much as possible.

I felt his breathing change and I moaned to him "give it to me". The bus started to slow and he grunted. He slammed into me deep and released his load. I grind against him a bit to pull it close to my cervix. "That's it, make me a bastard bearing bitch." As the last word leaves my mouth I tense up myself, to my surprise, and cum. I feel him hold me as my orgasm wracks my body. As I calm back down, I pant and smile at him. "I usually don't do that unless a man wants it."

I steady myself as he lets go of my leg and I'm back on both feet. He slowly pulls his cock from me as not to have anything leak out. As the bus comes to a stop, the last person or two get off and he's zipped up and I'm returning my clothing how I had been wearing it. I hear one of the guys say "You sure fucked her senseless, cadre" followed by laughter.

The bus was approaching his stop, the last one on the line. I hadn't thought of what I was going to do but knew I'd figure something out. We all make our way toward the front of the bus. As we waited for the stop, I slid my thong off, tapped him on the shoulder, and handed them to him. He slid them into his pocket. The wink was all he needed to do. I knew what it meant.

The bus stopped but the driver didn't open the doors. He turned to the guy and asked him "See you at mom's this weekend for dinner?" The man nodded to the driver, who was apparently related to the stranger who's DNA I had so willingly taken moments ago. The driver motioned to me. "Fine by me but I wanna see if I knock the slut up so mouth or ass. That goes for you all as well." The driver opened the door and he got off the bus.

The driver turned to me as he closed the door. "I'm technically done now. I know your stop and am willing to drop you off at it. It's on my way back to HQ. But no free rides…"

I turn to the other guys and say to them "You all can follow me home and I will show you my hose handling abilities," That got another round of laughter from them. I looked back at the driver. I didn't want to ask this or have him answer because I was already sure of his general answer..."I'm assuming they are extra on top of my fee?" He looked the trainees once over and laughed. "I like to help out those in uniform. These boys look to already have a hell of a ride coming up so I won't ask for anything this one time."

I smile at him. We 'saw' each other almost daily and knew he wasn't trouble. "Would you like road head or wait till you find a spot to stop at so I can pay the fee."

He laughed and said he's got a spot he parks during breaks. I nodded at him and took a seat. The trainees left joined me at the front of the bus. The driver drove to a place that looked like you choose for a break time.

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katana-no-neko · 11 months

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Call Me By My Name

Chapter 4 | ao3

"Yo, Salamander," Gajeel grumbled. "What's with the goofy face you've always got nowadays?"

Natsu rolled his eyes, not letting his cousin's bad attitude dull his own good mood. "Wouldn't you like to know," he responded, dopey grin still spreading across his lips as he continued bouncing around the domain, greeting his fellow dragons while stuffing breakfast down his gullet.

"Never mind. I really really don't."

Natsu just ignored his remark, giving a nuzzle in goodbye to his mother and sister and then leaping off the mountain and out of their home, soaring away with a mighty flap.

"That boy has spent no time at home lately!" Grandine exclaimed, watching as her son flew off, most likely not to return until the sun set.

"He's been super weird lately," Natsu's uncle Atlas agreed. "He's always been a free spirit, but he's never been so frequently absent. And I don't think I've ever seen him so giddy, not even when he knocked Gajeel off the mountain last summer."

Gajeel growled. "He didn't knock me off, I happened to stumble!"

Metallicana let out a rumbling laugh, slapping his son on the back as he and Igneel approached. "Oh yeah, cuz that's so much better!"

"But no, you're right, Atlas," Igneel nodded. "He's been grinning nonstop for four months, and spent less than half of that time here. Mostly to sleep!"

Atlas let out another booming chuckle. "He's reminding me of you at his age, Igneel! You were always flying up to the northern dragon clan to see Grandine! Didn't pay any mind to your own family!"

Igneel grinned dopily, wrapping his arm around his wife. "Yes, well, a dragon is focused on nothing else when he's in love," he rationalized, pressing a kiss to Grandine's cheek. There was a beat, and then the group's eyes widened.

"Holy shit. Is the kid in love?" Metallicana pondered. "I mean, there's no way, right? It's *Natsu*."

Grandine thought back. "It would certainly explain his behaviour... The constant smiles and happiness... And he must be visiting this mystery love of his!"

"Now I'm curious!" Igneel chuckled. "What kind of woman could have caught that boy's attention!? A dragon from another clan, maybe?"

"Perhaps a human?" Atlas suggested. "He visits that Magnolia quite a bit, wouldn't be surprised if he fell for one of those girls at the restaurant," he snickered with a sleazy grin.

"Well, we're not gonna figure it out chattering! Hey Gajeel, come here for a second!"

~~~

Gajeel grumbled to himself as he flew through the air, trying to catch a trail of Natsu's scent. The others were the ones going all gaga over Natsu's supposed love, why'd he have to follow the dumbass!? Besides, it's not like he was actually hanging out with some girl. It was *Natsu*. His cousin had never once been interested in romance.

Finally catching a whiff of Natsu, Gajeel reared his head and flew in its direction. Getting close to the source, he landed in a clearing and transformed, walking the rest of the trail. Hearing laughter from his cousin, Gajeel crouched behind some foliage and took a look ahead.

Holy shit, he *was* with a girl, from the sound of her voice! He couldn't see her very well from this angle, but they were laying on a lakeshore, chattering and laughing and splashing their feet in the water. Who was this girl? What manner of creature was she? She didn't have the scent of a dragon, but she had something special beyond a normal human's scent.

The girl sat up and poked Natsu's nose with a giggle, and Gajeel's blood ran cold. Her long ears... She was a fae. Natsu had been enchanted.

Gajeel leapt from his hiding spot, becoming a dragon again and sweeping the fae away from his cousin with a lash of his tail.

She gasped in pain as she landed, the touch of his iron leaving a burning sensation across her skin. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared up at the ferocious black dragon, poised to slash his claws across her.

Before Gajeel could move, he was rammed in the side, falling into the lake. Becoming a human again before his heavy dragon weight could sink down, he gasped for breath as he treaded water. "What the hell!?" he shouted, seeing his cousin's dragon staring down at him, crouched defensively and blocking the fae. "How stupid could you be!? Enchanted by a fae!? You've reached a new level of dumb!"

Natsu growled, crouching lower and stepping over the fae to cover her, a burst of fire coming from his nose as Gajeel swam towards them. "I'm not enchanted, and don't you dare step any closer. You hurt her any more and I hurt you."

"Oh yeah, 'not enchanted', my ass," he grumbled, climbing onto the shore and wringing water from his hair. He seethed as Natsu continued growling, more flames licking around his snout. "She's a faerie! That's what they *do!* Now step aside so I can take care of her, since you're obviously too far gone to kill her yourself!"

Rage filled Natsu as he snarled, teeth bared. Before he could do anything though, he felt a small palm against his scaled shoulder. "Natsu..." Lucy started.

Gajeel watched as the dragon's entire demeanor changed, letting go of his defensive position and moving to nuzzle against her hand and then sniffing at her injuries for blood. He was so obedient and calm with her, being enchanted was the *only* explanation! But... She'd never used Natsu's true name, had she?. Wasn't an invocation necessary to control someone?

"I'm okay," the fae assured. "Talk to him, he was just worried about you." Natsu shot a glare to Gajeel, almost like he'd forgotten the iron dragon was there until the fae had reminded him, and then he transformed.

"You go anywhere near Lucy and you're back in the lake," Natsu threatened, crossing his arms in front of him. "I swear, I'm not enchanted. Lucy does not know my true name." Gajeel raised an eyebrow and looked over to 'Lucy'. "Don't look at her, look at me!" Natsu commanded. Gajeel stood straight and brought his stare back to Natsu, not used to such a serious attitude from him. "She's my best friend. I met her a while ago and we've been hanging out nearly every day. She has never once tried to trick me into revealing my name and in fact ordered me to never say it."

Gajeel sneered. "You're sure putting a lot of trust into a *fae*."

Natsu growled again, but at Lucy's touch, stopped and took a breath to calm down. "Fine," he finally said. "You won't believe me, I'll prove it to you."

"Ha! As if anything you do will-" but Gajeel's eyes widened at Natsu's next words.

"Lucy, my true name is-"

Before Gajeel could react, Lucy had slapped a hand over Natsu's mouth.

"Natsu, you idiot!" Lucy and Gajeel both shouted. Natsu just grinned and licked the hand she still had over his mouth.

"Ewww, Natsu!" Lucy shouted, pulling it back and wiping it on his shirt. He snickered and stuck his tongue out at her, grabbing her hand and threatening to lick it again while Gajeel watched on, frowning.

"Why would you *willingly* tell a fae your name!?"

Natsu rolled his eyes, mood suddenly dampened again as he dropped Lucy's hand. "Because, moron, she would never *let* me. Didn't you see? She doesn't want my name, just my friendship. I don't care that she's a faerie." Gajeel watched Natsu wrapped his arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, almost as if it was instinct and not purposeful. "You're fine with Erza, what makes Lucy different!?"

"You know *exactly* what makes Erza different - she's half dragon and doesn't have fae magic, dipshit!"

Natsu scoffed and waved him off. "And besides. If I was under her spell, why would I keep going back home?"

Gajeel grumbled. "I suppose you have a point there."

"Just trust me, Gajeel. I know Lucy, and I know she's the most wonderful, kind *person* ever. I don't give a shit what kind of creature she is," Natsu declared earnestly, Lucy's heart swelling at his words.

Gajeel weighed Natsu's claims. Ultimately, Gajeel couldn't trust anything about the fae. But Natsu clearly did, and that was all that really mattered, he supposed. "Fine. Whatever," he sighed. "Keep hanging out with a faerie, I don't care anymore." Natsu grinned at Lucy in response, squeezing her hand in his excitement. Gajeel rolled his eyes and continued. "So what's your plan here? Just keep your girlfriend secret from-"

Natsu and Lucy both flushed and stuttered. "Whoa, whoa, who said anything about a girlfriend!?" He shouted. "I told you, 'best friend'!"

Gajeel crossed his arms and cocked his eyebrow. "Yeahhhh... Whatever you say. Either way, I don't think your dad is not going to be happy with you hanging out with a fae."

"So I won't tell him for now!"

"Pfft. That's not really gonna work considering *I'm* about to tell him. He's the one that sent me after you to find out what you've been doing!"

Natsu blanched. "Well, don't tell him! It's not like I'm hurting you by hanging out with her!"

Lucy touched a hand to his arm. "Natsu, I don't want you to get in trouble with your family because of me."

He took her palm and held it, gently rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "It's fine, Lucy. I'll figure something out. If they can't accept you, then they're a bunch of stupid heads," he smirked. She shook her head at his comment, but couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Gods, I can't stand to watch you flirt." Gajeel ignored their further stuttering. "I'll think of something to tell your dad when I get home but you better come up with a plan."

Natsu opened his mouth to argue, but paused. After thinking for a bit, all he came up with was, "Thank you."

Gajeel grumbled as he shifted forms. "Whatever." He stared down at the faerie for a bit, who was trembling before his iron-clad body. A sting of guilt darted through him at her expression and the obvious worry his cousin had for her fear. Before Natsu could shout at him again, Gajeel gave a nod in acknowledgement to her, let his ever present scowl return, and took off into the air.

"So, what'd you find out?" Igneel had asked when Gajeel arrived home. "My son have a secret girlfriend?"

"No," Gajeel hesitated. "But he's definitely in love."

#nalu #nalu fanfiction #fanfiction #call me by my name

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dukeswonderousmenagerie · 1 year

Note

Have a favorite angsty Lupin idea??

Oh boy buckle up buttercup

cause there’s one I’ve been discussing with a few buddies of mine having to do with PT2 of my Lavender Series.

Lupin had been going through some mental turmoils after (and maybe even a lil before) the accident. The accident just cements its self cause for some odd reason compared to all the other times he can’t just bounce back from it and he doesn’t know why

Basically Lupin after the incident, had been hurt badly enough that he was forced to retire/take a break from thieving at least for a while.

Lupin was utterly WRECKED about it cause he’s not even in his prime yet, yet he’s now closed to being forced to give up thieving and he’s depressed as hell and is having a mental spiral

His life basically started falling apart bit by bit and Jigen tried to comfort him in saying that a break would probably do him good and that it’s not the end of the world if they take a few extra months off, but Lupin can feel that the end is coming to his career because something in his gut tells him that shit is gonna change, but knowing that he panics a lot and thinks negatively a bit, he can’t see it ending “good”

The crowning moment he realizes things are changing is when he practically lets Zenigata catch him because he can’t keep up with the group because he hurt to much to move fast enough and just. . .can’t run so fast like he use too, and the rest of the gang accidentally leave him behind and he sorta just “gives up” and lets Zenigata catch him and even Zenigata is concerned cause he’s never seen Lupin so out of it and despondent, let along willing to let himself be captured without a fight, and it makes Zenigata feel weird to arrest him cause it doesn’t feel like a fair trade-off because he wants Lupin’s capture to be fair, so he ends up just letting Lupin sleep in the police cruiser and a holding cell to relax and rest up until he has enough energy to make a “daring escape” later on that night and Zenigata just lets him go cause he can always chase after him later

So basically what happened is, his paranoia reaches a high note and Jigen (and maybe even his grandfather) find Lupin sitting in a chair by himself and Jigen tries to talk to him but Lupin is ignoring him

That is until he swivels the chair around and Lupin points his Walther at him,

Jigen thinks he’s joking, but he’s nervous, Lupin doesn’t look right, so he goes to take the gun from him, but Lupin actually fires it and there is bullets in it, cause one whizzes past Jigen and lands dead on in a flower vase behind him

Well basically one thing leads to another.

The first shot rings out, and the rest of the house come running to see what’s going on and suddenly it’s all the maids, butlers crowded around watching in from the open door as Jigen and lupins Grandfather are trying their damndest to just calm Lupin down and get the gun away from him

Well it doesn’t work, and after a escalating situation and 2 more gunshots fired, one in the ceiling one in the wall that just barely misses the head of a young maid on the opposite side, lupins walther is now empty when he goes to fire a fourth shot and the gun just clicks.

Jigen then makes a grab for the gun, but by that moment, Lupin just drops it and runs out the door, just bolts for the front door of the house while his grandfather makes a grab for him but just barely misses but trips, causing Jigen to turn his attention to the old man for just a split second.

However that split second is just enough time for Lupin to bolt out the front door and make a break for the car

in this it’s the Benz I’m sorry my lil fiat

While he’s struggling with the keys, it’s the moment that Jigen himself comes running out the front door, but by that time it’s already too late, not even Jigen banging on the front of the car in order to attempt to get Lupin to stop, stops Lupin from hitting the gas and nearly clipping Jigen with the car in the process before speeding off down the road

But as he’s driving down the road, Fujiko and Goemon are driving back towards the house, and they notice Lupin peeling down the road, and by the time they get back to the house everyone is in a panic and Jigen is basically frantic asking if the two of them saw Lupin on their way back and they both say they did just half a mile down the road and he in turn frantically asks for the keys to the Fiat, hoping he can catch up with Lupin before he does something stupid

So he Fujiko, Goemon and maybe even the old man, all pile into the fiat and they drive down to the spot Fujiko and Goemon last saw Lupin

But as their driving down the stretch of road, a plum of smoke rises up from just beyond the road.

It’s the Benz, crashed into the Guarder rail

Jigen tells the others to stay in the car while he checks it out

But there’s a problem

He turns around to look at them, and clearly and as plain as day, they all heard the words they never expected to dread

“He’s Gone?! He’s not here!”

Turns out, Lupin never made it that far down the road

He made it about half a mile or so before he lost control of the car and had slammed into the nearest solid object traction could find, which happened to be the roads guarder rail.

He hits his head on the steering wheel, leaving a bit of blood for the gang to find when they find the car, but other then that no trace can be found of him. He ditches the car and makes the rest of the way on foot.

a lot of other scenarios happen after this scene but I was recently discussing this idea with someone so it’s the first one to come to mind xD. So if you wanna know others just lemme know!

#lupin the iii #lupin #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #Lupin III: The Lavender Jacket Series #fujiko mine #goemon ishikawa xiii #lupin sansei #lupin isei #jigen daisuke #daisuke jigen

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heliossecretdeskdrawer · 2 years

Text

A Group Project

Requested by anon.

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus, Megatron/Drift , Megatron/Drift/Rodimus, Drift & Rodimus

Characters: Rodimus, Megatron, Drift

Summary: In which Rodimus invites a friend over to spend some quality time.

Warnings: Threesome, awkward sexual situations, sticky interfacing, biting

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under cut

Rodimus leaned against his hand, placed on the desk right over the datapads Megatron had been trying to sort through.

“Hey, so, I’ve got this idea.” The words came with a trademarked, mischievous smirk.

Hardly surprising, Megatron thought. Rodimus usually had several bouncing around in his processor, many ill-advised at best, though more than a few were truly brilliant.

Megatron sighed, crossing his arms to prevent himself from trying to pry the datapads free. He had already lost too many datapads that way. By now, he would say he had learned his lesson. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Rodimus was an excellent hostage taker… if the hostages were reports.

“What is it this time?”

“Take it easy.” Rodimus grinned, practically beaming, a sure sign that Megatron was not going to like what came out of his mouth next. “You’re gonna love this one.”

Doubtful, at best, but Megatron decided to be congenial and say nothing. Instead, he just wordlessly nodded for Rodimus to get on with it.

“Great, so… what if I brought a friend over?”

Megatron squinted at him for a second in confusion.

“Why are you asking my permission to have a friend over?”

Rodimus had never asked that before, not once since Megatron had moved into the captain’s quarters with him. He just brought whomever over whenever it suited him. Drift was often over to play video games or watch holonet reruns. Sometimes Swerve or Tailgate would come over… or both at the same time. Or any number of others that Rodimus enjoyed spending casual time with.

The parade of guests was occasionally aggravating, but the disruption was usually easy to ignore, especially since none of them seemed to really expect Megatron to join in the socializing.

And it wasn’t just Rodimus who filled their quarters with guests.

Megatron too occasionally asked Minimus to come sit with him and read or engage in in-depth discussions about a given text.

“You’ve never asked me that before,” he continued, “Why start now?”

“No, okay, listen though.”

Rodimus extended the index finger of his free hand and held it out in front, a melodramatic gesture to request patience.

Sure, fine; he would wait to see where Rodimus was going with this.

“This time is special.”

How nonspecific.

“Special how exactly?”

Rodimus stood up straight and clapped his hands before rubbing his palms together.

“So get this, right? I’m talking about having a friend over for a super special, extra fun time.”

He winked with each emphasized word. While Megatron knew it was for some effect, the back of his processor briefly wondered if Rodimus was perhaps developing a twitch or if one of his facial nerves was getting pinched, the beginnings of some sort of unfortunate palsy. He didn’t relish the thought of having to hold Rodimus still—a mythical feat in its own right—to fix whatever was wrong with his wiring.

Megatron tilted his head to the side, not comprehending whatever subtext Rodimus was avoiding making explicit. There was something to be said for the value of subtlety, but Rodimus had overshot it straight into obtuse vagary.

With a sigh, Rodimus clapped his hands again, though this time with disappointment rather than enthusiasm. He gestured with his hands pressed together like he was dousing for water for reasons unknowable.

“For someone so smart, sometimes you’re as dense as lead, babe. I’m talking about having a threesome. C’mon.”

Oh.

“I see.”

While waiting for Rodimus to return from an “errand”—Rodimus had refused to elaborate on its nature—Megatron sat on the worn couch after clearing away the clutter from the floor.

Trash and belongings tended to accumulate whenever Megatron was on duty and away from the habsuite. Rodimus tried his best, of course, but that best was usually piles of things. It was still an improvement over an even spread of debris—empty snack tins, discarded packaging, moist mesh towels from the washracks, crumbs from those snack tins, and empty cubes—across their quarters’ limited floorspace. Piles were also easier for Megatron to tidy all at once, so he would take the small victory.

Small steps, but for now they had reached an amicable equilibrium.

Megatron expected Rodimus back from his “errand” before their “guest” was due to arrive.

At least the place would be presentable whenever they showed up.

Ever since Rodimus had mentioned the idea, Megatron had been trying to figure out just whom his “roommate” had had in mind. There weren’t many that seemed plausible, either because Rodimus had shown no interest in them and/or the other way around.

Rather than just tell Megatron the person’s identity upfront so he could decide without the person present, Rodimus had promised it would be a “surprise.”

Unfortunately, that meant that if Megatron backed out or didn’t approve of the choice in partner, he would now have to say to that person’s face rather than obfuscating with a general lack of interest in the event.

Most of the crew were complete nonstarters.

Out of the handful that remained anywhere in the realm of plausibility, Drift was the most likely, given his closeness with Rodimus. That was the most obvious answer. Maybe Rodimus had assumed Megatron would just deduce the new mystery lover’s identity and that he wouldn’t have any objections.

He sighed, leaning back against the plush upholstery of the sofa. No wonder Rodimus liked to nap on this stupid thing. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Drift, however ideal on the surface, would be an… awkward choice, partially because they had been… close before they had both thrown down their prior allegiances and partially because ever since they had both returned from their respective exiles, they had silently agreed to avoid each other outside of work.

It wasn’t as though Drift wasn’t appealing; he did have his charms, after all. Megatron could appreciate that—and had in another life. When he and Deadlock had both worn another badge, sometimes they had kept each other’s nights warm.

Even though Drift had discarded Deadlock’s heavy armor and gloomier color palette for lighter and brighter plating, he was still pleasant to behold. It was no wonder that Ratchet was quite taken with him.

Megatron had long ago, before even seeing Drift again on the Lost Light, decided to leave the old hurts alone so that he and Drift could both move on.

However, there was no way Rodimus hadn’t noticed the just-civil distancing, hadn’t noticed that two of the people he was closest to almost pointedly did not interact with each other.

Or maybe he’d been willfully ignorant.

Or maybe this was some scheme to fix it.

Or maybe Rodimus had picked up some other mech that Megatron hadn’t even considered to bring home for some “adventure.”

Perhaps he’d lucked out against all odds and Rodimus had managed to invite Ratchet. Now that would have been a pleasant surprise, a handsome doctor on a “house call” for a private “tune up.”

A knock sounded at the door, jarring him from his thoughts.

Probably not Rodimus, given that he could usually let himself in when he didn’t forget the code or keep transposing the same digit multiple times in a row.

However, he had assured Megatron that he would return prior to any… liaising.

Megatron got up and answered the door, manually sliding the door just enough to see out. It was hard to break old habits gained from dodging assassination attempts.

Drift stood on the other side, looking a little uneasy as he kept his spinal struts unusually straight.

A cold, conflicted discomfort swirled around Megatron’s spark.

Maybe he could play dumb, take a page right out of Rodimus’s play book.

“Are you looking for Rodimus?” he asked, not even letting Drift have the chance to open his mouth before providing an answer of his own. “He’s not here.”

Drift crossed his arms and squinted.

It wasn’t impossible that Drift had simply shown up to play video games at an inopportune time, without any knowledge of the private “party” that Rodimus had been planning.

“Yeah, I know he’s not.”

Dammit.

“Then why—“

“He told me to wait here for him.”

Of course, Rodimus had told him that. Of course. It should have been no surprise.

“We’re expecting company,” he countered, still leaning on the plausible deniability of not knowing why Drift was at their door. If he verbalized his assumption that Drift was, in fact, here to interface, and he was wrong, well…. Developing a reputation as some sort of lecher was one of the last things he needed.

Drift, however, merely uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his hips—He didn’t have his swords with him… or at least not any that Megatron could see, not even empty scabbards.

Interesting.

“I should hope so.”

Rodimus had done this on purpose, specifically to make Megatron sit alone with Drift.

Megatron’s instincts on whom his “roommate” would have been invited for some … recreation had been spot on.

With a sigh, Megatron slid the door to the shared quarters fully open.

Megatron and Drift sat on opposite ends of the couch, sitting in purposeful silence as meaningless drama played out on the glowing holonet screen.

Over an hour and a half had passed since Drift had arrived and Rodimus still had not shown up. Not even a comm message or ping.

If not for the fact that Rodimus was easily distracted, Megatron would have been concerned rather than aggravated. It still, however, seemed rather a long time for Rodimus to force Drift and Megatron to sit in each other’s presence.

The holonet displayed some rerun that Rodimus had left in earlier, the poorly mixed audio track blaring in a tinny sound shift. Megatron had neglected to unplug the dataslug earlier, so when Drift had turned the screen back on, in lieu of having a conversation, the ancient programming just resumed playing from wherever it had stopped.

Some mech had just been fired from their job and needed to woo their boss into giving them their job back, that they’re really the best worker for that position and no one else could make their boss happy like they could. It was either that or the obvious alternative of starving and having their employer-sponsored alt-mode exemption revoked. From what Megatron could tell, it was supposed to be a comedy series, with job-related mishaps each episode. The previous conflict had been the main protagonist being accused of employment infidelity after a case of mistaken identity.

Absolutely ridiculous, but even “mindless” entertainment had a purpose, he supposed.

In this case, the purpose was avoiding an awkward conversation with Drift.

Unfortunately, this stalemate had to end.

Not just because the dataslug had just finished playing the final episode, given the sudden dark screen after the ending credits, but also because they had to sort something out before Rodimus returned.

Even if what they would tell him might be “no, this won’t work.”

Despite being “dark,” the holoscreen hummed softly and still threw off the smallest amount of gray light, a signal that it was still on.

Megatron turned the appliance off with the remote that had been left on the low table in front of the couch before tossing the remote back onto the table.

“So, I assume you know why Rodimus asked you to come over.”

Drift gave a curt nod.

“And that reason is… what exactly?”

“Did he not tell you?” Drift had a clueless look on his face.

Clever.

It seemed Drift was also hesitant to acknowledge the situation. Either that, or he truly didn’t know, which was a possibility, that Rodimus had arranged a prank of some kind.

The prank idea, however, lacked veracity; the twitch at the corner of Drift’s mouth a tell that this innocence was merely a mask, a veneer.

“He might have, but he might not have.” Megatron shrugged, not quite willing to show his proverbial hand just yet. “For the sake of argument, let’s presume he didn’t.”

“Then he’ll have some explaining to do when he gets here, won’t he?”

Drift smiled broadly, further playing up the act. Megatron could see the points of his fangs, just barely visible like he was restraining himself from flashing them.

Come to think of it, since seeing Drift again, Megatron couldn’t recall him baring his teeth often.

Autobots tended to find fangs an unsettling fashion statement, the modification having been common—though not ubiquitous—among Decepticons, a sign of weaponized independence and that, even if disarmed, they remained some manner of threat.

Megatron had encountered some Autobots and non-aligned mechs with them as well, but they were a rarity.

He had also heard of defectors having their fangs removed, replaced with more factory standard teeth by medics either to more properly assimilate or for any number of personal reasons.

On the other hand, Drift hadn’t done that, even with his significant frame changes after throwing off the guise of Deadlock.

Nor had Megatron for that matter. There had been some things he had been unwilling to lose, though he had filed them back a little—just enough to blunt the points—for ease of maintenance, something Rodimus occasionally bemoaned as he, in stark contrast to the faction’s aesthetic norms, found fangs attractive.

It looked like Drift hadn’t altered his fangs in the slightest, the warm pseudo-incandescent “mood” light of the habsuite—one of Rodimus’s dubious decor decisions—glinting off the sharp points. No matter how long Drift had been with the Autobots, that was still a Decepticon’s grin.

“Yes, yes, of course, but I’m asking you.”

“Maybe he didn’t tell me either.”

A blatant lie; Drift had already admitted to knowing.

“I find that highly doubtful.”

Megatron huffed.

“Yeah, well, I also doubt he didn’t tell you.”

Drift finally let his teeth show fully, unaltered fangs on shameless display.

An involuntary thought of letting Drift sink those in between the narrow seams of metal plating or in the vulnerable separations between delicate cables popped up in his processor.

Rodimus, perhaps, had figured out that Megatron too found such weaponized anatomy appealing. That would explain the time Rodimus had offered to get the mod, only to give up after a few days when he kept cutting his tongue on the test, glue-on pair. It would also explain Rodimus’s choice of third participant, though… that could have just been an amusing coincidence.

Maybe.

Megatron doubted the coincidence more the longer Drift smiled.

“I mean, you’re his boyfriend, after all.”

“Roommate,” Megatron inaccurately corrected.

“Sure, sure.” Drift lifted his hands, wiggling the first two fingers on each hand in an “air quotes” gesture. Insufferable. “‘Roommate.’”

“There’s no need to insinuate—" But having sensed an opening in the argument, a place to poke and prod, Drift was quick to move, to pounce on it like cybercat on a glitchmouse. He scooted across the couch towards Megatron, taking the center seat before any explanation of just what was being insinuated could occur.

At some point since the conversation had started, a shift occurred that Megatron hadn’t initially noticed, a shift from avoiding having to interact to seeing if they could bait each other into admitting that they knew what Rodimus had asked of them.

And now, yet another shift: this one to Drift taking the opportunity to tease, by falling into the easy familiarity of presumably good-natured antagonism to sidestep the awkward questions, an answer without actually answering. When he had been Deadlock, he had always enjoyed opportunities to bully those around him. Drift hadn’t lost that as an Autobot, just like he hadn’t lost that sharp bite.

The discomfort of not having talked about the metaphorical behemoth in the room was not resolved, however, simply set aside. Perhaps Drift hoped to bury it by skipping to something else, something distracting to not bother unpacking until later.

On the center seat of the couch, Drift took care to avoid actually touching Megatron, as though he were still pretending he wasn't here to engage in any licentious activity.

He would likely to try lure Megatron into making the first move.

"I'm not insinuating anything."

Or maybe Drift was punishing him, getting his revenge for how they had parted ways before, sending bounty hunters to retrieve a wayward Deadlock.

Drift leaned forward, carefully maintaining that minimal distance between their bodies. He kept his smile wide, the fangs catching the light and a spark of mischief in his blue optics.

"Look," he said, gesturing with his upturned palms spread wide, just inside Megatron's personal space, "we all know about your long-term relationship with Rodimus."

The roommate facade was a pretense borne of habit.

While he had rarely had intimate or even close relationships during the war, Megatron had never been willing to publicly acknowledge any of them. It would have made the loved one a target, someone who could be hurt or killed in an attempt to manipulate him.

Rodimus probably thought it was funny since he had never openly objected to Megatron’s flimsy cover story.

"Drift, you’re crossing the line," he growled, even if there was no danger behind it, a toothless threat. There wasn’t really anything he could or would do to Drift about it, short of maybe kicking him out of the room.

Maybe he wouldn’t even do that.

There had always been something thrilling about being defied. It was one of the unspoken reasons that Starscream’s treachery had been tolerated for so long. Harnessing defiance had a certain appeal.

Drift, however, ignored the the warning.

Instead, he shook his head and pointed over the back of the couch to the recharge slab nestled in an alcove off the sitting area.

Piled with blankets that Megatron had meticulously folded that morning, the slab was large enough for two mechs; it even had a cable splitter adapter to allow sharing the same recharging unit.

“It’s simply a matter of resource conservation.”

A fragile lie, one Drift would see through instantly, not that it mattered. It was part of the game.

Beyond the game they had fallen into, there wasn’t even any reason to lie, not really. No one onboard, not after they left their home universe behind, was going to target Rodimus to get at Megatron nor the reverse. The threat was functionally nonexistent. No one cared.

Yet he had already put up the front. He couldn’t just walk it back.

Drift would have to tear the facade down.

“You’re still so bad at little fibs after all this time.” Drift tsked at him, leaning closer. “That’s not what Rodimus says.”

Megatron tensed, refusing to cower even though he knew it would be only a matter of time before he let himself buckle.

At this range, he could feel Drift throwing off heat, grinning like a predator cornering prey. Even with his new, lighter armor, Drift still moved like a hunter.

Megatron’s own internal thermostat started ticking higher.

“And what does he allegedly say then?”

“Oh, just how much fun he has between your legs.”

Megatron raised an eyebrow at the blatantly crude remark.

“That’s not necessarily indicative of anything,” he protested, “Casual interfacing is—”

Drift held up a finger, telling him to wait.

“And how you tell him you love him when you think he’s asleep at night.”

“Hearsay.” Megatron scoffed. “Rodimus likes to talk. We all know that. He says whatever comes to mind without thinking it through.”

That was a little disingenuous. Rodimus had become far more careful about his word choices in recent years, sometimes to the point of unhelpful, such as when trying to ask Megatron if he wanted to have a third person join their berth for a casual romp.

Drift continued to smirk, as though he knew he was rapidly depleting Megatron’s stock of canned excuses. The pull of Drift’s mouth charmingly crinkled the red paint under his eyes, revealing some of the endearing, well-hidden microfractures that he had earned with age and experience.

Maybe… running out of hollow excuses was alright.

“Sure, he does but he doesn’t like to talk about his feelings much.” Drift finally crossed fully into Megatron’s personal space, just barely managing to not touch by strategically placing his palms on the couch on either side of Megatron’s middle. “Neither of you do.”

The thermostat flashed a warning on Megatron’s HUD, along with a notification that his cooling fans were automatically cycling on, an embarrassing whir that Drift was certain to hear.

“That’s fine though,” Drift continued, “we don’t have to talk about it at all.”

It was funny, almost. Megatron knew that Drift’s current optics were Autobot blue, bright and friendly. Deadlock’s had been red, fiery and dangerous. Yet he could have sworn that Drift was looking at him the way he had before defecting, with a threat that was a promise.

“No,” Megatron agreed, Drift and his teeth inching closer to the delicate cabling in his throat. “No, we don’t.”

His own fans now weren’t the only ones he could hear, Drift having allowed his to roar on as he bit down, fangs pushing into the narrow spaces between the cabling.

The flood of error messages from the sensors in his throat tingled in his processor as he let them dominate his HUD, relaxing back against the plush upholstery of the couch.

Drift could have his stupid win.

Megatron shifted his posture, grabbing Drift by the hips and guiding him between his thighs. Warm breath on his neck as those fangs stuck fast spurred him to open some of his modesty paneling. The ruse had already been all but destroyed anyway.

The cold air on his freshly bared valve was banished immediately by the crush of Drift’s pelvic plating.

He heard a quiet click and something hot and firm brushed his anterior node, a soft burst of pleasure. He inadvertently ground up against the spike only to feel Drift shudder in response.

Their plating scraped together awkwardly as they adjusted their angles to better line up, wasting no time.

Soon the tip of Drift’s spike lightly pressed against the entrance of his valve.

A horrifying thought occurred to him.

What if, by some phenomenal odds, Drift might not have been who Rodimus had invited over?

In that case, rather than accommodating Rodimus’s wishes, Megatron was, in fact, betraying his trust.

Before that thought could take root, however, the door to the habsuite slid open, Rodimus standing in the doorway with an open-topped crate in his hands, probably borrowed from the cargo bay and full of some pilfered, salt-laden snack food.

"Aw, you started without me!"

The door slid shut behind him as he tossed the crate in his arms to the floor in favor of eagerly scrambling up the couch behind Drift. Several tins, most likely bismuth chips by the sound of them, rattled around inside the crate on impact.

“I got distracted when picking up snacks and—Don’t worry about it, guys; I’ll catch up.“

The couch had proved to be too small for the three of them, despite Rodimus’s bold insistence that he could simply climb on top of or squeeze behind someone. After Rodimus had accidentally hurled himself to the floor after placing his knee in a precarious place on the cushions, they had had to admit defeat.

The berth, despite being large, barely had enough room for everyone, meaning Megatron had to let his legs dangle off the side of the padded recharge slab. And by “dangle,” it was more akin to resting his feet directly on the floor.

Rodimus had just crudely described it as the “huge bastard tax” right before kissing his nose and clambering elsewhere on the berth, presumably to rearrange the cushions and tarpaulins.

The display of affection was a strange thing to do right in front of Drift but given that Drift was buried comfortably to the hilt in Megatron’s valve, maybe it didn’t really matter at this point what sort of embarrassing intimacies he saw.

He could hear Rodimus scuttling around just out of sight, like he was trying to sculpt a more comfortable landscape out of the covers.

Drift, on the other hand, was doing a valiant job of trying to distract him with slow, lazy thrusts. They escalated nothing but did hold his attention while Drift rested his weight against heavier armor. A warm, unhurried pleasure with no expectations.

The occasional contracting of his valve was a comfortable background thrum while they waited for Rodimus to find a way to slot himself into the tangle somewhere.

While Megatron certainly had some ideas about how this could go, Rodimus had previously made him promise to not to treat it like a constantly shifting battlefield. Despite Megatron’s objections to giving up that much control, it was up to Rodimus to finagle everything.

Drift had, Megatron assumed, also been made to make the same promise.

Threesomes always sounded so good on paper, but in practice they were tricky to coordinate. Angles and positions were tedious to negotiate. That was, he presumed, what Rodimus’s hold up was.

“Are you just watching or are you planning on joining some time before we’re finished?” he asked, throwing an arm around Drift’s back to keep him close. With where Megatron had had to relocate on the berth, Drift’s legs were in near constant danger of slipping right off the padding.

Surely this wasn’t the best way. Maybe he could be permitted a bit more space to accommodate Drift.

Without warning, his head was lifted up and a wadded-up tarpaulin stuffed underneath to support his neck and shoulders.

Drift unfortunately stopped moving, probably a safety precaution.

“Don’t be impatient,” Rodimus said, coming back into view as he adjusted the lump. A pillow would have been simpler, but Rodimus had never been known to do things the easy way, at least not the first time around.

Megatron scoffed, turning his head sideways to better see.

“That’s rich coming from you—“ He was cut off by the sight of a familiar red-orange spike bobbing excitedly right in front of his face.

So that was how Rodimus anticipated this going.

Not the worst configuration.

“And it took you all that time to prepare?”

He glanced up to watch Rodimus’s face.

Rodimus, however, just idly scratched his nose and shrugged.

“No, not really. I was also watching. I can do both. It’s called ‘multitasking.’”

Before any retort could be mustered, Rodimus shifted his kneeling posture, bouncing his spike on purpose.

Megatron grumbled before just opening his mouth to let the spike in as Drift started moving again.

Within a few vigorous thrusts, however, Drift’s precarious stance, huddled on his knees between Megatron’s thighs on the edge of the berth, finally faltered. His hands scrabbled in vain for purchase on Megatron’s armor. With a surprised yelp, he slipped out of the valve, landing on his aft on the floor.

“Okay, fellas, so… new plan.”

Rodimus’s spike halfway down his throat, Megatron groaned.

“Not the plan I had in mind, babe, but thanks.”

“Rodimus, your new plan is the same plan,” Megatron said, Rodimus getting tentatively settled between his knees.

The two racers had merely switched places.

Drift sat off to the side, hand on Megatron’s shoulder in case they needed to suddenly move again.

“No, it isn’t!” Rodimus grabbed his spike, starting to nose it against Megatron’s valve as though that would solve the “no space at the end of the bed” problem. “This is a totally different plan. It’s fine!”

“You’re going to hit the floor again,” Drift added.

“No, I’m—“ A look of understanding dawned on Rodimus’s face, like he’d just been given a vision from Primus himself. “I’ve got it!”

Megatron raised a skeptical optical ridge as Rodimus excitedly spread his now-lubricant-covered hands wide.

“Guys, I’ve got a new new plan!”

The floor.

Bolstered by pillow and covers.

It wasn’t the most comfortable surface but the risk of someone falling off the bed had been nullified by obviating using the bed in the first place. Space was also no longer an issue.

Rodimus’s “new” new plan seemed to have actually paid off.

Moaning around Rodimus’s spike, Megatron silently congratulated himself on having tidied up the floor before Drift had even arrived.

Drift, meanwhile, was speeding up the motion of his hips, the lewd noises between Megatron’s legs where they met growing louder.

After a several more firm thrusts, he felt Drift finally go stiff over him in overload, at long last after all of the interruptions.

A shame, he thought, gently patting Drift’s back, since he himself was really only just starting to get anywhere, his valve clenching in vain at the softening spike inside. His frame tended to require a lot of attention compared to those of sleek racers.

Drift fell limp against Megatron’s body, still catching his breath.

“My turn!” Rodimus yanked his spike out of Megatron’s throat before scrambling down to bully Drift out of place. Drift whined but obeyed, leaving the now unoccupied valve open for Rodimus to take position.

Megatron sighed, wondering quietly when it would be his turn.

Eventually, of course. Rodimus and Drift would almost certainly be taking multiple turns and—a warm burst of charge, growing rapidly and radiating out from the touch of a hand that suddenly appeared between his legs.

Drift had crawled up alongside him and reached down, massaging the exposed anterior node as Rodimus settled in.

His valve started to clench down on Rodimus’s spike as soon as he was properly seated.

Maybe this wouldn’t take as long as he had thought.

“You planned that, didn’t you?” Megatron asked, closing the door to the hallway after Drift had finally left.

It had taken nearly an hour to the get the paint transfers off his bright white finish. White tended to show even the slightest flaw, which meant that color required additional upkeep compared to others.

Rodimus shrugged from where he had flopped across the couch, still covered in transfers with his exhausted array still on full display.

“I mean, I did plan the threesome, yeah.” Rodimus tilted his head to the side. “Is your memory starting to go, babe?”

Megatron sighed and took his seat next to Rodimus on the sofa. He had cleaned himself up some and closed his panels, but the paint transfers remained. He would need Rodimus’s assistance to reach some. Likewise, Rodimus would need his assistance in return. It was a favor they did for each other after intimate encounters, affectionately wiping away the evidence.

“No, I mean, you planned to have Drift show up while you were out.”

“Oh.” Rodimus thought for a moment. “Yeah, yeah, I did plan that.”

The couch shifted as Rodimus rolled over before crawling into Megatron’s lap, straddling his hips. He slipped his arms around to pull the larger mech into a comforting embrace.

“Why—“

“Well, I wanted you guys to have some time to get the weird out.”

“Get… the weird out?”

Rodimus shrugged again, grinning up at Megatron.

“Yeah, you guys have some weird thing you needed to work out and I thought that would be a great time. Get whatever it is out so the banging could go off without a hitch.”

Somehow Megatron felt that they hadn’t actually worked anything out but had simply side-stepped it in favor of falling into old patterns, but before he could protest, Rodimus interrupted.

“It must have worked since you guys got started without me.”

“I… suppose it must have, yes.”

Perhaps not to the extent Rodimus had envisioned, but perhaps the door to his friendship with Drift had, at the minimum, reopened after all.

“Great, because I want to invite him back for another few rounds next week.”

#fic #one shot #valveplug #megarod #megadrift #megadriftrod #megatron #rodimus #drift

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biwrites · 2 months

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How's This For An Embarrassing Sexuality Realization Story

Or- "How an IMVU SRP Made Me Realize I was Bisexual"

(tw for some of my extremely irresponsible online behavior when I was a minor. brief mentions of sex and sex toys)

Flashback: it's sometime in the early 2010’s, I’m the token straight friend in my extremely queer middle school friend group. Gender feelings are bouncing around in my head like the DVD logo and just haven’t hit any corners yet. I’ve acknowledged them and promptly ignored them, which will continue until around the age of 17. My best friend has entered yet another extremely expensive video game hyperfixation, and expected the rest of the group to follow suit. First it was the Sims, then gacha rhythm games, and finally IMVU. They had, by this point, sunk hundreds (yes hundreds) of dollars into character cosmetics thanks to their parents, while the rest of the group looked on in awe. Of course, I did what any middle schooler in a deeply unhealthy homoerotic friendship would do and downloaded the stupid game.

Now if you weren’t a weird little tween at around the same time that I was, you might be wondering what IMVU even is. It’s a social simulator, very similar to what VR chat would become in the future. You would make an avatar, decorate a house, join a room someone has decorated to look like a park or a nightclub, and chat with other users like you were in whatever setting the room portrayed.

I was very interested in the avatars at the time, since the feminine ones were heavily stylized and very attractive to the emo middle schooler on the other side of the screen…no need to unpack that. It felt scandalous, dressing the virtual manifestation of myself in fishnets and crop tops. Giving them long dyed hair, black lipstick, and dark eyeshadow. I was prepared to slam my laptop closed at the first sign of my bedroom door opening, and I didn’t know why.

Me and my friend played around for a bit, but eventually they got bored, and I decided to go online on my own. Like many young people with unfettered access to the 2010’s internet, I’d found my way into generally more spicy corners of the internet. Because I specifically was, and am, a giant nerd, that meant I naturally found my way into RP communities. So here I am, staying home from church on a Sunday evening due to a freak muscle spasm, anxiously typing “S.R.P” into the IMVU search bar. After a few failed attempts, I struck up conversation with a girl sporting a preppy female avatar. At this point, I was tired, I was bored, and I was determined to make this work somehow; so when she asked if I wanted to move to dm’s, the implications of imagining sex with a woman was the furthest concern from my mind. I told myself that it didn’t matter, that this was probably a random guy getting his rocks off anyways, that because it was online, it didn’t mean anything about me.

Boys, I had a revelation.

What came of this was two girls who knew jack shit about sex trying to figure out how to write a sex scene, it wasn’t hot, we were middle schoolers in places we shouldn’t have been. I didn’t know what a dildo even was. I had to ask for a definition.

I thought about it for the rest of the night.

At first I considered it might just be the embarrassment that I had such a monumental writing fuckup (I mean GOD who doesn’t know what a dildo is.), but I wasn’t shameful, I wasn’t kicking myself. I just kept turning it over and over in my head. When the revelation came, it wasn’t monumental, my heart didn’t plummet to the bottom of my stomach, I didn’t fear for my eternal soul (the religious trauma would poke its head up years later), I didn’t cry, I didn’t cheer. I simply sat back in my chair, shut my laptop screen, and thought,

“Huh…do I like girls?”

I knew the word bisexual, my friends were all queer, I wrote fanfiction as a hobby and had a very active Wattpad account thank you very much. This wasn’t a new concept, but it was never a possibility for me. Somehow, I never considered that I could even feel that way about a woman, but the desire fit like a glove when I gave it a name.

Honestly, part of me wishes I could tell you I was so conflicted there in the moment, that I sobbed, that I clawed through all of my internalized homophobia and biphobia early, that I fought as a child to accept myself as an adult, give you some emotional catharsis, but I didn’t. Truthfully, late at night, lit in a warm glow by the little pink lamp on my desk, I came out to myself silently.

“I guess I’m bisexual.”

I still remember the exact thought.

I would proceed to deal with years of internalized and external biphobia, years of unpacking my compulsory heterosexuality, years of wrestling with religious trauma in the light of my self discovery…

But

At that moment, in the quiet of the night, I was happy, I was unconflicted, I was bisexual, and for a brief, beautiful moment, that felt like home.

#I'm not used to writing about myself in prose #and this one was really awkward to write for some reason!!!#so I promise they get better in the future #bisexual #personal writing #personal story #writers on tumblr #queer writers #bisexuality #coming out #lgbtqia

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jeremy-ken-anderson · 10 months

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It's Gotten Worse

I've given up on The World After the Fall.

Back when Game of Thrones was starting to get big as a book series, I got to the Red Wedding in book 3 and I gave up on it. My take on things was that the emotional center of the series was "will the Stark family reunite?" as a question, and that question had been answered in the cruelest way possible about four times in a row by that point. A resounding, "No." *whack* "No." *whack* "No." *whack* "No." *whack*

Imagine George standing at a table with a cleaver, saying that, and bringing the cleaver down on something that crunches wetly just out-of-frame.

Anyway.

It felt to me as if the premise of the series as laid out in the first book wasn't still at all where it was going, and didn't care to invest emotional energy in new tissue-paper humans who would be ripped apart in the author's hands and thrown in the garbage at a moment's notice.

The characters - (except the witch, seriously I feel like I misread something, she was a main character and then just got written out of the story; I don't even remember a goodbye or a death or a "no, it's better if I don't find her again" or anything) - have proven a little more durable in The World After the Fall...but I have a lot of the same sensation. The comic is up to its third or fourth premise; its third or fourth new vibe, and I don't think the author realizes how much it costs the comic every time it changes gears that way.

The genie was let out of the bottle like two years ago in the comic, and the author's been trying to shove it back in for the entire time since, and the genie's not going back in the bottle but it is getting more and more ugly and squidging around the author's hands in much the same way as this metaphor's squidging around mine.

It's still a really pretty comic, I appreciate the "fight against a broken world" vibe the author's currently trying to run with as the plot's core, and I do feel like it has better legs than the things he bounced from to get where he is...but I find I can't get over those first stories and the consequences he's trying to ignore from them.

And, like, boy do I get it.

I was writing an isekai and it ran like,

Chapter 1: Dude wakes up in his magic tower with his magic generals and starts trying to figure out how dangerous the new world he's in is.

Chapter 2: Something - probably the same force that shoved dude into the body of his videogame character among his magic generals that he'd made up in the videogame - decides that dude having a tower full of magic generals is unsporting to the rest of the world (almost certainly a reactionary opinion to my having recently watched Overlord at the time) and puts them all into stasis and de-powers dude.

Chapter 3: Dude goes into town and accidentally kills the reprehensible nobleman's son by scratching said son with his own magic soul-sucking dagger, then uses mind magic to MIB "flashy-thing" the bar and make his escape.

Chapter 4: Dude turns himself into a kid to preserve mana and gets picked up from the street by a caretaker at an orphanage. He finds out about a plot to use orphaned kids as mana batteries through a program that sends them to a school from which they don't return. Which isn't suspicious yet, because they haven't been gone from the orphanage that long, except to our dude because he's from our world and therefore very genre-savvy.

Chapters 3 and 4...There's the start of a plot there! There's a character at a reasonable amount of power - interesting magic, limited mana pool, a problem-solving style that is much more about finesse than force (which makes it kind of a bad match for Shounen manga but while that's often how I picture such stories in my head I'm not actually a manga-ka), and a threat that can continue to scale with our hero's capabilities (dealing with the nobleman whose son he killed, then the guy who commanded him to start taking orphans, then the entity or group that set up the entire scheme)

Chapters 1 and 2 have nothing to offer the story except limitations, rules that are hard to live up to, goals that will contradict or seem like they should override the goals of the mainline plot, and a whole lot of "why doesn't he just" questions that I honestly have no answers to. If I'd been writing this as a serial manga and releasing it, I'd be in the same position when I came up with chapters 3-4 of my idea as the author of the manhwa I'm dropping is in now.

When I say I get it I mean I really get it.

But that's not a reason for me to keep reading.

I don't want to yuck your yum if you like the series. The art is seriously impressive. And - perhaps the hardest part to say, for me, because it sounds mean - while I don't like the writing personally due to what feel to me like structural flaws, I also get the sense that the author cares about writing well. It's not a sure shot for success for the series' continuation or conclusion, but it's a hell of a lot better than an author who doesn't, right? There's a much better chance that the writing will continue improving. I wish the author felt free to make a clean break and just start a new series with the ideas he now has clarified, because I think that story would be better for being whole, just as I will start my story with "chapter 3" if I ever try to get it out of my head and into a real publishable format.

0 notes

luxora · 2 years

Text

Twice -> {Highschool AU} -> Dating a jock

Requested: No

Group: Twice

Genre: Fluff

Nayeon

The smile you sent Nayeon the second you saw her made butterflies flutter in her stomach and she smiled back just as brightly as you hurried over to greet her, picking her up in a tight hug and spinning her around playfully before pressing a quick kiss to her lips as you put her back on her feet.

“Hey baby.” You said, smile wide and charming as usual which made her smile back at you. She leaned in to press another kiss to your lips.

“Hello.” She said, immediately walking to the rest of you jock friends who were all hollering at you greeting her, your arm immediately wrapping around her waist as you followed her back to your friends, rolling your eyes at their teasing.

“Damn Y/N, its almost like you are greeting her from after a war.” One of your friends chirped, making everyone laugh while you just rolled your eyes again before leaning in to press a kiss to Nayeon’s cheek.

“She’s my girlfriend, I’m just happy to see her.”

“Didn’t you have a date with her yesterday?” One of them asked, reminding the two of you of the cute picnic you had organized for the two of you in the park. Nayeon immediately smiled at the memory of it.

“Yeah, and what about it?”You asked back, raising your eyebrow while you tugged Nayeon closer to you, prompting Nayeon to rest her head on your shoulder. One of your friends scoffed.

“Then you don’t really have a reason to act like the two of you have been separated for six months.” You huffed and shook your head before shooting your friends a small glare.

“I’m happy to see my girlfriend, there is nothing wrong with it. If you have a problem with it, then you can just deal with it yourself.” You turned back to Nayeon and flashed her a small smile. “Come on babe, lets leave the idiots on their own.”

While your friends immediately began to protest at you referring to them as idiots, Nayeon just laughed and allowed you to lead the two of you away from your friends, heading in the direction of the first class that the two of you shared this morning. And like the well-mannered partner that you were, you stood aside and allowed her to enter the classroom first and even went as far to pull out her desk chair out for her with a grin, causing Nayeon to peck you on the cheeks in thanks.

“And you just the sweetest.” She teased, making you grin widely before you took your seat right next to her and immediately turning your body so that you were facing her.

“I know that you wouldn’t settle for anything less.” You teased, winking at her which just made her laugh before she nodded approvingly.

“You’re right. I settle for nothing but the best.” She eyed your figure approvingly, your sport giving your the mot delight figure that people would die for, as well as muscles which Nayeon absolutely adored, and worships to certain degrees. And you knew how much she loved your body because you winked and then playfully flexed your arm.

“Good thing that I am the best at everything I do.” You teased, making smirk before she reached out to tap you under the chin, winking while doing so.

“While confidence is sexy, don’t get too cocky.” You raised your eyebrow, challenging at her with glinted eyes.

“I’m not being cocky if I’m just telling you facts.”

“Yes, but sometimes too many facts can overwhelm people, and I would hate for your head to get bigger than it already is.”

Nayeon grinned when she heard you huff in mock offense, winking playfully at you before she turned to unpack the necessary books for the lesson, deciding to ignore your poor attempts of defending yourself about apparently having a big head, even though you knew there was nothing that you could say to make Nayeon take back her teasing words.

Jeongyeon

Jeongyeon could not stand you at first because of how cocky that you acted in front of everyone. Yes, you were the star basketball player for the school, but the way you went on about it just annoyed her endlessly. Bouncing the orange ball in the corridors when you walked to class, fake throwing it at innocent students who were walking by, and spinning it on your finger in the middle of class despite the teachers asking you to stop were things which just increased her annoyance levels towards you. So much so that she eventually could not stop herself from smacking it out of your hands when you attempted to fake throw it at her the one day when she was walking to math class.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed, not expecting her to actually hit your ball out of your hand, which just made her glare at you in response.

“Stop being a stupid idiot and throwing up a useless sphere of rubber!” She yelled before storming away, leaving you to stare after her in shock while one of the other students had passed you back your ball.

After that brief, not so much of an introduction, Jeongyeon suddenly found herself apparently getting courted by you, and by that, she means being permanently bothered by you as you kept teasing her about her reference of your basketball as a ‘sphere of rubber’. She had just said it in a moment of anger, and yet it was something you kept teasing her with, and it frustrated her endlessly.

But in the end she got used to your constant presence around her, and she eventually agreed to come watch your games and bare witness to your ‘mad skills’ with your ‘sphere of rubber’ in the game, your eyes always looking for hers in the crowd each time you scored a point, winking at her before returning back to the game.

And after a few more games of watching you, and surprisingly looking forward to them, Jeongyeon found herself getting asked out on a date by you outside the gymnasium with you with remarkably pink cheeks, your shy demeanor being very out of character for you. While she did not expect it, she won’t lie and say she wasn’t happy about it, so she said yes and literally made you the happiest you have ever been, and she knows because she has seen how you celebrate with your team each time you scored a point or won a game.

Now watching you play games was an obligation she was more than happy to keep, her eyes never leaving your figure as you bounced the ball along the court and scored the possible impressive points ever, always being cheered on by the crowd but not as much as she cheered you on. You still always looking for her eyes each time you score a point, the two of you sharing a smile before you return to the game to continue. And whenever the game ended, Jeongyeon was the first person you would meet, scooping her into your arms before pressing your lips to hers.

“I was good right?” You would ask every time, looking at her teasingly with bright eyes while Jeongyeon would always smack you playfully on the shoulder, her lips tingling from your passionate kiss.

“Yes Y/N. You were good.” And you would grin before moving your lips back to hers, celebrating you win with her before anyone else because it was her opinion that mattered most you you.

“Me and my mad skills with my sphere of rubber.” You teased, making Jeongyeon smack you again.

“It has already been eight months! Let it go already!”

“Never, not when you still give me the same reaction each time I bring it up.” You said teasingly, making Jeongyeon groan in annoyance.

“You are such a pain.”

“But you love me.” You said with a wink, linking your fingers around her waist so that she could not escape you, not that she would want to.

“I do, even though I question it most of the time.”

She did often wonder why it was that she decided to fall for you, but she could never come up with a conclusion because in the end she was happy with you. Even though she could not stand you at first, you make her happy. And she was grateful that she decided to give you a chance to make her happy. Just as you were grateful that she gave you a chance in the first place.

Momo

With Momo being the best dancer in the dance team and you being the best player in the soccer team, it was kind of expect for the two of you being voted as the best sports couple of the year in the high school yearbook. Momo attended every single one of your soccer games while you attended every single of her dance performances, the two of you just being sickeningly supportive of one another and your respective sports.

“Aww Y/N, you shouldn’t have!” Momo exclaimed, spotting you with a large bunch of flowers in your hands as exited the dressing rooms to go look for you, only for you to be standing nearby as you waited for her, a wide smile on your face when you spotted her.

“Why not? The best dancer deserves the best flowers, and as your number one fan, it is my job to supply you with your just desserts.” You proclaimed smugly, puffing up your chest in pride at your dedication to her, which just made her laugh and shake her head.

“And did you happen to bring any dessert with you with the flowers?” She asked, making you pause in your proud puffing and making your frown. You then looked at her with an unsure look.

“...I can buy you an ice-cream on the way home.” You said uncertainly, hoping it would be enough to make up for your lack of not bringing her something sweet for after the performance. But Momo just laughed before stepping into your personal space and pressing a kiss to your lips before taking the flowers out of your hands.

“I’m just joking, flowers are perfect enough.” You said, immediately moving her head to breathe in the scent of the flowers, a mixture of roses which just made her smile.

It was hardly an uncommon occurrence for you to give Momo something at the end of her dance performances, be it a candy bar or flowers, you always wanted to reward her for her hard work as she was just as dedicated to her dance as you were to your soccer, and even though you did get teased often from your teammates with your commitment of always going to the dance recitals and performances, you just shrugged their words off. Momo supported you at all of your games, so it was only right for you to do the same. And on the odd time you could not attend, you always had sometime record the performance for you so that you could see what she and the rest of the dance team had done.

You were proud of her just as she was proud of you, and it touched her heart every time when you attended the performances, along with cheering for her when she was onstage with the rest of the dance team.

“I’m not kidding, we can stop and get some ice-cream before we head to your place. I know how hungry you are after dancing.” You persisted, accepting Momo’s hand when she offered it to you as the two of you began to walk away to the exit, you being the ride for the both of you as you had brought Momo to the venue in the first place.

“Baby its fine, you have spoiled be enough as is.” Momo said, but you shook your head stubbornly.

“There is no way I have spoiled you enough, as your number one fan, I have to do way more for you.” You said sincerely, albeit a bit teasingly as you opened the door for the two of you, the cold evening air making Momo shiver. Momo thought for a second before smiling at you.

“Well if you want to spoil me some more, you can kiss me for starters.” She purred, your automatically smiling as the two of you arrived at your car where you suddenly pressed her against is, caging her in with your arms. You leaned in and brushed your lips against hers teasingly.

“I can do that.” You breathe against her lips before closing the distance, giving her the first kiss of the makeout session that the two of you proceeded to have, Momo wrapping one arm around your neck to keep your closer while the other held her flowers.

Sana

Obviously your and her classmates were going to put two and two together of why neither you or Sana were in class, but Sana did not really find it within herself to care when she was very occupied with more important things, such as kiss you.

She had missed you the whole time you left for your sports tour, the lacrosse team traveling for the School Championships which was in the next province, so the two to three weeks Sana found herself walking on her own to class, driving herself to school, and spending her evenings on video calls with you while you were busy annihilating all the other teams up there at the Championships. As expected, you and the rest of the team came back home victorious, and both the school and Sana were proud of the team for bringing back the trophy.

But she was more happy that you were back, hence why the two of you were making up for lost time.

Sana moaned into your mouth as your tongue danced with hers, her nails digging into your shoulders as she straddled your lap, your own hands on her waist as the two of you made out on the roof top, it being the place the two of you often escaped to when you both were in the mood for skipping class. Thankfully no one has decided to look for the two of you, hence why Sana and you were able to make up for loss time with not interruptions.

Kissing you was something which Sana could never get tired of, along with the way you would completely crush her to your body so she felt every inch of you when the two of you kissed. It was almost like you were trying merge the two of you together, wanting to touch as much of Sana as you could without hurting her. Your strength was something which she absolutely adored, especially when you used it to your advantage when the two of you kissed. Sana gasped when you finally released her lips, giving the two of you a much needed break for air. She immediately wrapped her arms around your neck and embraced you tightly.

“I missed you.” She whispered, taking comfort in you wrapping your arms around her as the two of you held each other.

“I missed you too.” You responded, nuzzling your nose in your neck and inhaling deeply as her perfume filled your nostrils with its scent. You smiled against her skin. “Roses.”

Sana giggled and pulled away to press a sweet kiss to your lips, not expecting to deepen it as she was still recovering from the previous kiss, but you were simply too needy for her as you quickly applied more pressure to it, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss, tongue entering Sana’s mouth to twirl with hers for a few moments before pulling away with a gasp, eyes staring intensely at Sana, her cheeks flushed pink.

“You have too much stamina.” She suddenly said, making you raise an eyebrow and smirk.

“You have never complained before.” Sana mirrored your expressing as she threaded her fingers through your hair, tugging at it gently.

“Who said that I was complaining?” She asked, smirking as you simply chuckled in response.

“Touche.”

Sana closed the distance between the two of you this time, lips automatically parting for your tongue to enter her mouth again, her own meeting yours and the two of you becoming reacquainted once again with your mouths, not that she didn’t already know every inch of it as the two of you have already been together for a year, being the golden couple of your and her year. While she did not want to highlight on her relationship, she will admit that the two of you were just perfect each other, even though she is probably being biased with her hopeless romantic side.

You slid your hand up to cup the back of her neck to deepen the kiss while your other pressed itself into the base of Sana’s back, pulling her impossibly closer to you as the two of you continued to kiss. Even though your legs were starting to get numb from being in the same sitting position for the last thirty minutes, you easily ignored it as kissing Sana was worth losing feeling in your legs. The two of you eventually pulled back for air once again, both of you with flushed cheeks but with grinning smiles as the two of you took each other in. Sana giggled before leaning in and rubbing her nose playfully against yours.

“I love you.” She said sweetly, making you smile as you stole a kiss from her.

“I love you too. You’re my lucky charm.” Sana laughed before shaking her head, stealing a kiss from you too.

“I’m hardly a lucky charm, you won the Championship without me being there.” You shook your head.

“Not true, I spoke to your every time before a game, that was enough for you luck to be sent to me.”

Sana just responded with a kiss, prompting yet another make out session to silence you from your dorky proclamations, not that they really bothered her as they always made her heart flutter.

Jihyo

Jihyo knew better than to believe that you were going to take the study session with her seriously, because all she was doing was half learning the work herself while avoiding your hands which were not keeping to themselves as the two of you sat at the dining room table at her home where she decided to hold the study session for the two of you. She smacked your hand once again when it tried to press along her side.

“For the last time Y/N, focus!” You pouted as you shook your hand in pain from the hit, rubbing the knuckle which she had happened to strike with your other hand while looking at her.

“But Jihyo-”

“No buts! You are the one struggling with math, not me, and if you want to pass the next test, you have to focus!” She exclaimed, only for you to respond with a loud groan before dramatically sprawling your head and arms all over your work books, grumbling about the unfair work you were forced to learn.

“But its completely useless! When in my life am I going to be asked to calculate the angle of a triangle? When? And when am I going to have to provide a formula for PI? When Jihyo, when?”

“You should have joined the drama club, you would be much better at it than track.”

“You take that back!”

There was one think which you were most proud of, and that was your natural ability at running. So you joining the track team was inevitable, especially since you excelled at it during middle school, you only getting better when you eventually entered high school. So for Jihyo to take a dig at your natural talent, it was just a low blow and Jihyo was aware of it as your reaction was predictable.

“No.”

“Jihyo, I swear that I will-”

“Run away from your problems? Math problems to be exact?” She said, narrowing her eyes at you while you clenched your jaw, glaring at her slightly as you sat tensely in your chair.

You weren’t stupid, Jihyo knew that. Before the two of you had started dating, she had been your friend since middle school and she knew just how capable you were grade wise because you often competed with her during tests on who would get the highest grade between the two of you, but as your focus shifted to your track and field, your grades began to slowly slip, and now she was serving as both girlfriend and tutor for you, to your delight but to her annoyance as she knew you could easily learn this stuff.

“Y/N, the longer you keep wasting time, the more work you will have to deal with after practice, do you really want to keep working on all of this after tonight's practice?” You narrowed your eyes as her before sighing, slumping into your chair and looking at the math questions which were mocking you from their place in the textbook.

“I hate math.” You declared, making Jihyo smile despite still being slightly annoyed with you.

“So you’ve said multiple times before.” You turned back to look at her.

“Seriously, I hate math.” Jihyo shrugged.

“You still have to do it to pass the year, so I suggest that you fix your pretty face and focus. We only have ten questions to do, lets just start with the first three and see how we go.” She suggested, making you sigh in resignation before nodding and picking up your pencil to start formulating. Jihyo smiled as she thought that you finally came around to studying and turned back to start with her own work when you interrupted her again, albeit this time with a softer voice.

“You still think I’m good at track, right?”

Jihyo glanced at you and noticed your slightly insecure look as you glanced at her, looking slightly small in your seat despite usually having a very confident posture. Jihyo sighed and reached out to cup your cheek, stroking it with her thumb.

“I think you’re the best. No one can ever beat you, you are fastest in the entire school and the entire country.”

While you did have plenty of competition with other schools, her words seemed to provide you with your much needed comfort and you smiled widely before turning to your work, starting to try out the first math problem. She shook her head, you really were prideful sometimes but it was kind of cute, not that she will admit it to you.

Mina

Your confidence is something which had attracted Mina to you, since she was a rather quite person compared to you, who loved being surrounded by people and was always very vocal, especially about your opinions on sports a you were an athlete yourself, being a star player of the soccer team. But what also attracted her to two was your tender heart, the two of you bonding over books which was most ironic as people often perceived you for a dumb jock because of your obvious interest in sports.

But it was not true. You were actually very imaginative and intelligent, and reading was something which you found to relax you, especially since your schedule was often packed with soccer practices, as well as hanging out with all of you teammates off the field. But you made time to spend with Mina, even though she was quite the wallflower which was practically impossible as her beauty often stood out to everybody but because of her reserved nature did she remain out from the spotlight of the social circles.

However it did not matter much as since dating you, she had been brought out more into it because of her connection to you. But she did not mind too much because you always made sure she was comfortable no matter what, and if you thought that she was having enough of all the rambunctiousness of your jock friends, then you would pull the both of you away and go to some place quieter where the two of you could spend time together.

You were sweet to her, and Mina obviously loved you, even though you were somewhat the opposite of her in terms of sports and social popularity at school. But the two of you were close, and you managed to bring out a better side of Mina which surprised even her. Such as now, where she was pressing you onto her bed while her lips were attached to yours.

The two of you were simply spending time together after school at her house, hanging out on her bed with your own respective books, but then you started sneaking glances at her, same for Mina, and eventually she simply could not help herself as she had placed her book down and moved to kiss you, pushing your book out of the way to turn your focus to her instead.

While you were obviously stronger than her, you allowed her the freedom to do what she wanted, and so you simply allowed her to dominate the kiss, your hands pressing themselves to her back as she moved to lay on top of you, hand cupping your cheek while you kissed her back. When she eventually pulled away to breathe, you were smiling at her.

“Couldn’t handle being so close to me anymore?” You teased, making Mina flush in response. You chuckled and traced a finger down her cheek, your own cheeks beginning to turn the colour as your felt the entire length of Mina’s body on you. “I’m not complaining. I don’t mind you being on top.”

Now that made Mina blush even redder, and you chuckled before you decided to put your strength to good use, flipping your and Mina’s position so that you were on top of her now and propping yourself up so that you weren’t crushing her body. Her hands automatically went to grip your shoulders, holding you closer as you leaned down to begin peppering her face in kiss. She cutely scrunched her nose.

“That tickles.” She complained, which prompted you to kiss her on the same spot before pulling back with a smile.

“Oh really?” You asked, one hand sliding down to suddenly wiggle against her side, prompting a gasp out of Mina’s lips and a sudden squirm to escape your hands. “More ticklish than that?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe I should check.”

You then immediately began to tickle Mina, laughing along with her as she tried to wiggle out from under you, you making use of your strength once again as you kept her in place and did not provide her any chance of her escape.

“Stop it! Stop!” You only increased your tickling.

“Why should I stop when you are enjoying it so much?!”

“No I am not, I hate it!”

“Then why are you laughing so much?!”

The tickling session lasted for a few more minutes before your finally decided to appease her, stopping and moving back down to lay on top of her, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead as she recovered from the tickling session, smacking you on the shoulder in retribution for attacking her.

Dahyun

One of the things that Dahyun loved the most about you was how playful you were with her. She was a natural jokester, and the two of you were the two class clowns which drove your teachers mad, but it was all fun and games, especially since the two of you were partners in crime, as well as partners in love.

And while you were a fellow class clown with Dahyun, you also happened to be a member of the school tennis team, and to say that you were talented would be an understatement. You were obviously very good, often nicknames as ‘the shining star of tennis’ which just made Dahyun crack up laughing each time she heard it. It was honestly unbelievable that your and her peers went to the extent of coming up with some nickname for you to describe your talent. They honestly had too much time on their hands, but it did amuse you and you sometimes would like to tease Dahyun about dating the ‘shining star of tennis’, which Dahyun took with a pinch of salt.

“I could literally get with anyone I wanted to.” She complained, annoyed at you once again teasing her about being lucky for dating you. You shrugged and grinned.

“And yet you decide to stay with me, clearly you enjoy the benefits of being with the shining star of tennis.”

“What benefits? If you mean the lack of jealous glares from other girls, then most definitely am I reeking in them.”

“...Was that an insult?”

“You tell me.”

The two of you did bicker like any couple would, but the two of you did love each other and you two still played around like kids would, albeit like kids who kissed and dated.

But Dahyun had been in a particularly playful mood and since you liked to hang back after school to practice some tennis, she decided to take advantage of a free tennis partner and grabbed the spare tennis racket which you had packed and joined you on the court. You simply raised an eyebrow at her as you bounced the tennis ball on the court.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“About to beat you at your own game!” She declared, taking a starting tennis pose as she looked at you with determined eyes. You smirked.

“Oh really now?”

“Yep, step aside Y/N, the new shining star of tennis will be taking her rightful place.”

“Right, whatever you say babe.”

While Dahyun would like to say she had a fighting chance, she couldn’t because it was such a blatant lie that she will be struck with lighting for even attempting to downplay her horrible defeat. Usually you would love to poke fun at her failing at something, you decided not to this time. You simply took the racket from her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Come on, lets go home.”

Dahyun glanced up at you with a pout, still feeling the taste of the defeat rather vividly, which prompted you to lean down and kiss her, making the pout disappear as she eventually returned the kiss, her hand moving to cup your cheek and keep you close. You pulled back and smiled at her.

“Come on my shining star, its about time I got you home.” Dahyun couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Its the afternoon. I don’t have a curfew.” You shrugged before walking over to your tennis bag and packing away your two rackets before slinging your bag over your shoulder and taking Dahyun’s hand in yours.

“True, but a movie is calling out to me, and the taste of buttered popcorn is teasing me. And besides, you have been wanting me to watch that new Kdrama with you. So lets go.”

Dahyun smiled and jumped up to press a kiss to your cheek, her fatal defeat from the tennis game easily forgotten as the two of you began to walk to the school entrance, eager to walk back to her home for a very much anticipated move marathon, or series marathon so to say.

Chaeyoung

You and Chaeyoung were the perfect representation of the Short-and-Tall couple, her being the shortest between the two of you while you were the tallest, which helped you greatly in volleyball as you were one of the best players in the high school team.

Chaeyoung would take great advantage of your height, such as making you giving her piggyback rides when she was tired of walking, and having you give her the best hugs which were crack her back when she was feeling tense. There were quite a bit of advantages with your height for Chaeyoung, and she was going to milk it to its worth, which always amused you to know end but you did not mind because it made Chaeyoung happy and that mattered the most to you.

But while you and Chaeyoung were happy together, she knew just how much stress you would put on yourself because of your volleyball, and while people did assume that you were the strong one in the relationship due to physical strength, they were wrong because Chaeyoung was actually the rock and constant which you needed to keep your head on track, especially before a big game.

It would be quite the sight to see such a small woman cradling someone as tall as you, but that is what Chaeyoung did in a private space where she knew no one would be able to interrupt the two of you. You were your own worst enemy when it came to criticism of your play and Chaeyoung was almost the only one to get you to set yourself straight, especially since your team relied on you to give your best performance to win the match.

“You know that you are going to do well. I know that you are going to do well, you have nothing to worry about.” Chaeyoung whispered in your ear, soothingly rubbing your back with her hands as she hugged you, your frame leaning over her as you tucked your face in her neck, your breathing slightly shaky.

“I’m nervous, they’re a really good team and if we lose, then it will be all over for us.” You murmured, making Chaeyoung sigh.

“What will be over? Y/N it is just a game, a game which you play all the time. This is just another match, you mustn't let you stress you out.”

“I know, but I’m scared.”

“Scared for what? You are an amazing player, and you play the best when you are having fun. So do that. Have fun.”

Chaeyoung has watched you play volleyball plenty of times, and she knows when you are having fun during the game, you are going to win. Because that was the kind of mindset that you had. If you kept overthinking and putting pressure on yourself, it would only be biting you in the ass because then you would become too tense to even play. You just needed to relax and play, just like you always do.

Chaeyoung continued to hold you, rubbing your back and whispering comforting words to you before you finally righted your self, standing up to your full height and taking deep calming breaths before looking down at Chaeyoung, a soft smile on your face. You reached for her face and cupped her cheek.

“Thank you angel.” She smiled and turned to press a kiss to your palm.

“You are going to be amazing Y/N. Just go play and have fun. That is when you play the best volleyball.” You smiled at her and nodded before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips before leaving to meet with your teammates in the changing room, Chaeyoung walking to the gymnasium entrance to find a seat for your game.

And as usual, you proceeded to win the volleyball due to the comfort and support that Chaeyoung gave you, something that she would congratulate herself with as she would run on the court to kiss you in celebration, just like how your number one fan would be.

Tzuyu

It was quite ironic that Tzuyu was dating you, since you were one of the best swimmers on the school swimming team, while she couldn’t swim herself. In fact, it was actually how the two of you had met as Tzuyu had happened to fall into the school pool by mistake and it was you who had dived in to get her out without even knowing that she couldn’t swim. It took you one look at Tzuyu for you to immediately fall to her and ask her out on a date right when you helped her out the pool.

She said no. While she did appreciate you helping her out of a possible drowning, she did not really know you and she was not comfortable going on a date with someone she did not know. Which therefore led to you wanting her to get to know you as soon as possible so that the two of you could go out on a date. You were persistent, often finding Tzuyu in the crowd even when she was lost in her own world and just keeping to herself, not realizing that you were chasing after her until you touched her shoulder and offered to carry her books or bag for her, which she refused as well because again, she was not comfortable as you were still a stranger to her.

It took you quite to wear down Tzuyu’s walls and to eventually get her to agree to go on a date with you. Tzuyu at first rejected you simply because she did not know you well enough, and then she rejected you because she did not want to ruin the friendship that the two of you striked up with your constant attempts to getting to know her better. But eventually she agreed to give you a chance to show that you would be much better as a partner than a friend, and you managed to convince her as you pulled out all the stops on the first date, being sure to do everything spontaneously by the book to give Tzuyu the best experience of a first date with you.

To say you succeed in making her your girlfriend would be an understatement. The two of you were the literal visual couple at high school with how good the two of you looked together. With Tzuyu’s visuals matched with yours, the two of you were simply gorgeous and you were always happy to show off to your friends just how beautiful Tzuyu was, much to her embarrassment.

You could almost never understand why Tzuyu didn’t believe that she was as beautiful as you bragged, because she was. She was an angel to you, or like a cupid, it didn’t matter cause she just mesmerized you each time you saw her, which makes Tzuyu embarrassed when you would tell her so, trying to encourage her to see herself as you saw her.

But the growth of your relationship with Tzuyu was very well represented, as currently the two of you were in your swimming pool and you were busy helping her learn how to swim with your hands tightly gripping hers as she floated in the water.

“You’re doing great babe! Keep going!” You cheered, making Tzuyu glance at you for a moment before she refocused herself on training to remain afloat in your pool.

Tzuyu was at first against learning how to swim, she just not feeling comfortable in the water since she had a bit of an traumatic incident in the pool when she was little, but it took you a lot of convincing before she finally agreed to let you teach her. Besides, she couldn’t exactly dating a swimmer without being a swimmer herself, especially since you were fond on going on water related dates like the water park or the beach.

It was thankfully a very hot day which helped persuade Tzuyu to join you in the swimming pool, and your lessons were slowly but surely helping her gain enough confidence to keep learning, your words always cheerful and supportive while your hands were the steady support which she needed. You smiled at her brightly as she continued to kick while she was on her stomach, every now and then dunking her face in the water.

“Well done baby, you are doing so well.” You repeatedly said, walking around slowly along the pool to give her the sensation of moving. Tzuyu managed to flash you a small smile.

“I’m...starting to feel better about the water.” She confessed, not feeling as uncomfortable in the water as she was before, which caused you to smile brightly.

“I’m glad to hear that! Soon enough, you will be swimming in races with me!”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

While she was willing to learn how to swim, she was not going to be at the same swimming level as you, especially since you were swimming times that were far too fast for Tzuyu to keep up with. As long as she can stay afloat in the water and move around herself, she was happy. And with the lessons that you were giving her, the success of her goal was coming closer after each sessions.

“Aww come on, I know that you can do it with practice!”

“I think I will limit myself to water parks and the beach.” She quipped, making you pout but then smile again as the idea of going to a water park and the beach more often with Tzuyu excited you.

“That’s fine! Totally fine! Maybe we can even go diving!”

“I prefer staying on top of the water.”

“Small steps. Got it.”

210 notes · View notes

notnctu · 4 years

Text

backseat chronicles - n.jm | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, fluff, lil angst wordcount ➠ 8.5k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin, badboy!jaemin, college!au ━ where Jaemin brings you to his club races as his arm candy. warnings ➠ explicit language, overstimulation, flirty banter, pet names, softdom!jaemin, car sex, praise kink, hittin it raw (y/n on the pill), oral, daddy kink, slight corruption kink, fingering synopsis ➠ There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @yunoyeol ; @lanadreamie ; @ta3ilmoon ;

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! thank you for over 1k notes on this series, im beyond impressed by the amount of attention this got! it really blew up and its so crazy!! i wrote this one with more of a romantic plotline i realized its too hard to keep it pwp with all the story building and characterization i have :)) it’s almost over yall! pls pls leave me feedback im sorry it took so long to write ):

While college lecture rooms are too big to interact with other students, discussion classes are there to ease the difficulty. A classroom for about twenty students from a three hundred person lecture. It’s administered by a clueless TA, who barely began his second term in graduate school.

Unlike lecture, attendance is mandatory for participation points. You show up every time without a fail, so it came as a shock to you when a certain blue haired student finally appeared from the list of absent students.

Na Jaemin. The notorious playboy with looks that kill and partakes in some illegal racing club. It’s as if every person in the room fawns over his aura, Jaemin drips with an inexplicable alluring confidence. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he never shows up for class and rumors about how he’s slept with the entire cheer squad.

But he’s drawn to you like a magnet: always sitting in the available spot next to you, asking about your day before the TA arrives, developing an odd staring problem. You don’t feed much into his attention, minding your own business when he starts with his notably flirtatious greeting.

“You just take my breath away, (Y/N).” Jaemin cocks back in his seat with legs stretched wide in an overly comfortable manner. The smug smirk on his face cannot be ignored, he’s doing the absolute most to get you to pay the smallest attention to him.

“I didn’t do anything in particular to do that, Jaemin.” You respond bitterly, pulling out your notes for today’s discussion class. The TA enjoys wasting the first twenty minutes going over the past lecture slides and running through the most obvious topics.

You pay no mind to Jaemin peering over at you with the single handedly most dreamy eyes and smile --- stars shining in his dark orbs and a dazzling twinkle in his wide toothy grin.

“That’s why you’re so amazing. You do nothing and it still leaves me breathless.” His sneaky eyes examine your clothing choice for the long day. On this warm afternoon, the short tank top does nothing to hide much of your skin and the denim shorts that ride up a little too well drive Jaemin insane. And when you cross your legs together, he swallows the spit that pools in the back of his throat.

Your ears catch onto the murmurs of the rest of the class, the midterm is next week. The wretched midterm that is half of your grade dooms you, it is going to take an endless amount of completely undistracted dedicated hours of study--- “On a more serious note, can you help me with this class?”

His voice shatters your inner panic, if anything, adds to the stress that already beats down on your shoulders. You look up to glare at him, but you’re entirely taken aback by the new styling of his hair and the exposure of his tattoos.

The sweet blue cotton candied strands are ruffled lazily above his brows, messy from him constantly running his hand through them. Jaemin sits relaxed in gray sweatpants that are extremely baggy on his slender figure, hands are shoved casually into the pockets.

But what has you staring for longer is the long sleeve of tattoos that wrap around his left arm. Not that you’re surprised that Jaemin has tattoos, let alone a whole sleeve, but this is your first time seeing it as this is the first time he’s come to class without his leather jacket on. Something about the intricate lines and shadowing make Jaemin seem much cooler, almost more attractive.

When you meet his eyes, his lips curl slowly into a sly side smile and he’s practically eating you up under his gaze. He definitely knew that you were staring and what comes next out of his mouth will haunt you for it. “Like what you see, beautiful?”

“I don’t have the time to help you.” The best way out of this situation is to simply ignore it. Jaemin is overly adored and admired by many, he’ll find someone else to help him.

“Jaemin, do you want to study together?” There you go, folks. The random girl snickers with her small huddle of friends in the upper corner of the room, like a crowd of crows, they’re all waiting around for Jaemin to accept her offer so he can be easily integrated into their little group.

However, you watch how his glances bounce between you and her. The most sickly sweet, kind smile is almost too fake to consider it to be genuine. His final choice surprises you, “thank you for offering, but I only want (Y/N)...”

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat as you hope for him to finish his sentence, the drumming of your heart distracting you even more. Jaemin wants you? While the thought is flattering, it puzzles you greatly.

“... to help me with my studies.” Jaemin finishes his sentence after a rather long pause, his eyes finally resting upon your figure shying away and finding any way to seem uninterested in the conversation. “Is that going to be okay, (Y/N)?”

“What do I get out of it?” You can’t believe that you are actually considering it. But this is a man that only wants you to help him. Jaemin is an impossible, yet charming man and whatever comfortable attire he is wearing today is really aiding in his request.

He lights up, ears perked up and eyes attentive. His hands fold together on the empty desk, leaning forward towards you. “Dates with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you groan slightly at the arrogant answer. “I don’t care about that. I want something that benefits me.”

“I’ll make sure you’re well fed.” There is a tiny plea in his tone, a remarkable shift from his cool aura. “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“I guess I can’t turn down free food…” there is a hang in your sentence as you contemplate what chaos you’re about to dive into and what life changes are about to be explored with Jaemin.

“Before you agree,” Jaemin chuckles, “there’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me.”

You’re quick to shoot a daggering glare at the overly enthusiastic boy, “why do I suddenly owe you favors?”

“Because I say so.” He deadpans, a chill running down your spine at the deep dip in his octave. The playfulness that was present all this time suddenly vanished, a serious look that intimidates you, but sexy enough to where it erupts something in your core. He blinks at you with dark clouded eyes and you nervously anticipate what he is going to ask next of you.

“Accompany me to my races.” He speaks lowly as if he’s afraid of someone else eavesdropping in the conversation.

Here’s your issue with that request: you’ve never really been part of that scene. You’ve lived pretty mundanely, even in college. It’s simple, you like to stay within the boundaries of what you enjoy to do and what you have to do. But you’re always open minded and willing to try something to determine whether or not you’re fond of it.

Partying and drinking copious amounts of alcohol weren’t your favorite things to do, especially to the point of forgetting your nights. You wanted to remember your nights as much as you do your days. The youth isn’t here for long, why waste them by blacking out in the middle of a large party? Also, whoever said that alcohol goes down smooth is a blatant liar.

Illegal racing could possibly be an extension of people who participate in those things, which is fine, but does place a crippling fear of coming off too boring or unrelatable inside your nervous system. But just because you don’t do those things doesn’t mean that you’re not as cool, right?

Since when was your status based nonsensically on how often you spend your nights in socializing crowds full of sweaty bodies and how much cheap booze you can drink? It had to be all in your head --- you’re just dreading any awkward socializing with people who race cars when it’s absolutely illegal.

“Why me?” It’s a genuine answer, possibly stemming from your insecurities of not being on the same level of charm as Jaemin exudes. You’re not a fool, you’re well aware of the many different people he comes across on campus so, why you?

Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to answer, “why not you? You’re just my type. Hot and smart. Cute and a little shy. The greatest duality, if you ask me.” His words seem so genuine that it has you believing these things about yourself as well.

Nonetheless, you’re taken aback by his observations and his choice of descriptions. “We’ve barely ever talked. How can you say these things so confidently about me?”

Jaemin slightly pulls your chair closer to his own and you yelp in response to the sudden movement and lack of space that separates the two of you. He leans into you, breath hot on your skin and obvious eyes darting between your shocked ones and pretty lips.

“So let’s get to know each other. I can already tell that it’ll just make me fall for you even more.” His finger lightly traces your jaw, stopping at your chin to give it a small lift to meet his focus. Jaemin loves how you squirm underneath his intensity, you’re too cute to let go. “Plus, my boys will love you. I’m sure of it.”

The TA rushes in quickly and is utterly distressed from the traffic that had pushed back his schedule. “Sorry, I’m late everyone.” He rummages through his things to find his notes, but groans to see that the monitor of the computer is off. It’s going to take him another ten minutes to input all his credentials.

But your attention doesn’t stray from Jaemin, especially with his delicate touch at the bottom of your chin. His gentle smile enacts nothing but a soft love, and a peak of interest. Na Jaemin, the one and only. He’s like an adventure waiting to be explored, an open bottle of fun for you to take a sip.

“What would I have to do?” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Just be there as your pretty self.” Jaemin comes off as the type to always have women around him, “you’ll be my lucky charm. For some reason, I always feel better around you.”

The escalation of this conversation is possibly more action you’ve had to handle in the last two years. Jaemin drops your chin and falls back into his own seat with his arms crossed. He is about to turn your life upside down and whether that be a good or bad thing, you don’t mind. You’re excited for the new thrills that come with being by Na Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin’s hot hands lift your shirt quickly, throwing it towards the front seat of his car. His lips return to your soft neck, nibbling at your skin tenderly and with love bites that will remind you of his gentle touches. The streetlamps outside flicker impatiently as you feel the eagerness soaking your panties and he lifts you up to take them off.

“My sweet girl,” his voice is light and airy that it becomes almost lost in the heat of the car. “You’re excited tonight. Did you miss me?” The devilish smirk can be felt upon your collarbones.

“Yes, I haven’t seen you for almost five days.” A peculiar whine settles in your pout and Jaemin’s low growl sends shivers down your spine. The only barrier are his own tight jeans and your hands are fast at unbuckling his belt. Jaemin relaxes back, forearms resting on your soft thighs and watching the neediness in your expression and the speed of your hands. He smiles to himself seeing you this way, wanting him so badly that you can’t wait to get him out of his jeans.

Throughout the two months that you and Jaemin finally became well acquainted, he’s fallen inexplicably into your trance. His friends made it very clear to you that he doesn’t keep the same girl around for more than a few weeks. But he’s brought you to almost every race so far and despite the initial shock of your appearance after the third time, you didn’t let the passing comments phase you.

Why he hasn’t replaced you is unknown and truthfully, there is no reasonable explanation how you always wind up in the backseat of his car by the end of the night. It’s become part of your routine. Jaemin picks you up around ten in the evening with raunchy lyrics blasting out of his personalized car for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. More often than not, Jaemin has food ready for you to devour and a cozy blanket for your exposed legs.

You’ve learned a bit more about him through your backseat chronicles. Jaemin is possibly one of the only people in your life with a heart bigger than his own body, while also being as carefree as he can. Oddly enough, he cares about you as his friend and as his companion. Not to mention the ridiculous, yet endearing nickname, “Lucky Charm”, that he has coined upon you.

Jaemin has been the best adventure you’ve had in ages. While he takes you on intoxicating thrill rides on the leather of his back seats, every street race has been more than unforgettable. He shares one of the same values as you --- wanting to remember the present. You both know that you’ll remember each other enough for it to transcend into your next lives.

You have him to thank for your youthful experiences, to learn and dive into this new found world of mischief under his care. Jaemin treats you extraordinarily well, he’d never hurt a soul. He showers you in appraisal and carefulness, he’s attentive to your behavior and remembers your favorite things. And he reminds you almost every time you see him that he’s so grateful to have you in his life.

“Have you been touching yourself?” Jaemin’s bold question catches you off guard as it causes your hands to shyly hover over his unzipped jeans. When you glance up at him with soft innocent eyes, as if you’re guilty of a crime and wish to beg for forgiveness, his facial expression is serious and intimidating.

“Continue, baby. You can be honest with me. Daddy isn’t going to punish you if you did.” His tone is sweet and light, but his eyes are dark and piercing. His lips are drawn tightly into a thin line, no curve in sight.

His finger grazes down your cheek gently as he admires your slightly parted lips and the way your eyelashes dance every time you blink. However, his other hand urges you to continue your previous action of getting him out of his restrictive jeans.

You nod, while rubbing his erection through his gray briefs that hug him so tightly. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you pull the waistband of his underwear down and his cock stands against his lower abdomen. “Do you think of me when you do?” His voice gets caught in his throat when you take him in your warm hand.

“Always.” You kiss his jawline and fix your position above his dick. Your slick pussy presses down against his shaft, coating it in your juices and rubbing his tip to your clit for a delicious sensation. Jaemin groans, his gaze dipping between your lower bodies and back to your face.

“My sweet (Y/N) thinks about her daddy fucking her senseless while she touches herself.” Jaemin chuckles darkly, grinding his hips harder against you. There is a shift in the atmosphere as he grips your hips and slowly enters your dripping hole. “That’s cute, baby.”

You hold onto his shoulders as his raw dick fills you to the brim, stretching you out like past nights. Gasps leave your body when he starts pulling all the way out to only have you sink back down. “Daddy, please just fuck me.”

Jaemin picks up his speed, knowing that you have a quiz due at midnight that you scolded him for forgetting earlier. The grip on his shoulders tighten as this man navigates your body all too well. He knows you like the back of his hand, fucking the spot that causes your body to lose control.

One of his favorite sights in the world is the view of your lips parted open with loud whimpers falling effortlessly. Your eyes roll back into your skull as his hips roll deeper into your walls, the tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You’re always the best girl for me, aren’t you?” His hand wraps around your neck when you throw your head back, choking you lightly and your walls grip around his shaft. “I know you’re close. Cum on my dick, baby. Be a good girl.”

Jaemin’s tattoos shine under the moonlight when you peer down at him. His hooded eyes are intoxicated by the pure image of your fucked out body and he’s truly in love. “My good girl, come on baby.” He continues to encourage, his other hand giving you a smack on your ass when he drills mercilessly into you.

The familiar bubbling occupy your lower half and the feeling of release unravels all so suddenly. You fall forward, Jaemin lets go of your neck to hold your limp body close to him, your head on his shoulder as your orgasm overtakes you. He grinds his hips into you to prolong your shaking climax, cooing sweet nothings in your ear as his other hand takes a whole handful of ass to squeeze.

He bottoms out, filling you up to the rim to cum deep inside of you. Jaemin moans loudly, his cum spilling all over your walls. You two sit like that until he grows soft, pampering your temples with gentle kisses. Jaemin remembers to take care of you, no matter what.

While you’re in his arms, he reaches for sanitary wipes in the side compartments. He lifts your hips slowly to pull out and you sigh at the emptiness. Gently, he swipes at the dripping cum from your pussy and makes sure that you’re all cleaned up before getting dressed.

“So, you want to tell me why you’ve been MIA for the past five days?” Rolling your eyes, you pull up your panties and fix the last decency of your hair.

“Car meets that are too far for me to take you.” His thumb rubs your chin lovingly and Jaemin’s eyes are so bright and mesmerizing, you find that it’s hard to look him in the eye at times.

“Not because you’ve been hooking up with other girls?” There is a tinge of sarcasm that laces your rhetorical question and though you don’t expect him to give you an actual answer, you take note of his reaction. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, clearing his throat and looking out the window away from you.

“And if I was?” Truthfully, that question hurt you more than your’s hurt him. His hand rests underneath his chin as he patiently waits for your answer. He admires the clear night sky and the rundown abandoned liquor store that stands all by itself.

“What do you want me to say?” Question after question, a stiff tension replaces the sex of the car.

“I’ll take you back now.” Jaemin crawls back to the driver’s seat, completely ignoring your confused figure. He has always been quite like this: going aloof whenever he wants to dodge something. However, it’s been happening more frequently the past times you two have been seeing each other.

The truth is simple, yet entirely complex at the same time. You and Jaemin aren’t dating, despite always going out together and him posessively introducing you to other men. You and Jaemin aren’t dating.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop you from growing feelings for him and you can tell that this happens too often for the attractive boy. He can’t have a fuckbuddy that won’t fall head over heels for him. But who could really blame you? Even if all this time Jaemin was pretending that he cared about you, he still pampers you like a princess; he still tells you he does.

But when it comes to discussion about advancing into something more, he hides and grows silent. This has you wondering, maybe this entire thing to him is all sex? And he can’t love you back the way you do.

No one knows his heart, not even himself. He’s never wanted to complicate his life, it’s always been about two things: racing and having fun. There is no easy way to explain it all, the thoughts that flood his mind and heart, so he chooses every way to ignore it. Overall, he’s genuinely lost. You are one source of stability in his life that he isn’t willing to let go, ever. But just because he won’t let you go, doesn’t mean that you won’t take the chance to leave when you’re fed up with him.

This has him wondering, how far can he push before he pushes you too far?

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just walk.” Tonight is unsettling, it usually doesn’t end like this. Jaemin locks the car doors and turns around to reach for your hand. “Jaemin, open the door.”

“I want you to say that you hate when I sleep with other people.” Jaemin confesses all too wildly as his hand lightly squeezes around your wrist. “And I want you to mean it.” He’s only speaking words of truth that haven’t had the time to process in his own thoughts.

“I hate when you sleep with other people.” And you do mean it. You mean it more than anything you’ve ever said to this man. Jaemin just sighs, bringing your wrist to his lips for a lasting kiss.

“Can I drive you home?” Jaemin asks softly, eyes dipping down to the leather seats and avoiding all need for eye contact.

“Yes, Jaemin.” He pulls you back into the passenger seat and drapes the soft blanket over your exposed legs. “Hopefully, I still have time to take my quiz.”

“Can I come inside?” Jaemin coolly turns his marble wheel to reverse out of the parking space, a hand resting on the shoulder of your seat as he does a double take behind him for any pedestrians, even if you two are far out in the middle of nowhere and there isn’t anyone around; Jaemin knows you have the hots for him when he does that specific move.

“What do you mean? You’ve already cum inside.”

It’s the sound of disappointment as his tongue tsks at you and he flicks lightly at your forehead. He steps on the acceleration, revving the annoying engine that roars throughout the peaceful night. The multicolored lights illuminate around his stereo and at your feet, creating the Rainbow Road right out of Mario Kart.

Jaemin isn’t like the others who pay close attention to the details of his car. His motto goes, “if I like it, I’m going to have it.” Whether or not anything matches goes beyond his worries.

In some ways, his car is a mirror of his own personality --- wild and free, colorful and welcoming. And his skills as a driver? Safe, no matter how far the speedometer goes, Jaemin always makes you feel safe.

“I mean come inside your room for aftercare. You know how much I hate leaving you without a proper cuddle.” He pouts and almost immediately his cute baby tone comes out with his beg. Almost subconsciously, Jaemin lays his right palm open facing up to invite yours in. Almost routinely, you lace your hands to complete his hold. Getting Jaemin to smile has never been easier as his hold grows tighter.

“You can’t stay over tonight though. My housemates are doing some Single Girls Only house event tomorrow and it starts immediately when we wake up.” You laugh as the ridiculous words fill the air.

“And you’re participating in that?” Jaemin mindlessly asks and you’re unable to differentiate his implications from the question. Is he asking because the idea is horrendously nothing you’d like to do or he’s implying that you’re not single?

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sounding rather harsher than intended, Jaemin finally realizes how poorly he had worded his previous question. Yet, a part of him feels disappointment whirling in his chest and a desire to feel wanted by you.

“Doesn’t seem like something you’d like: wallowing in your singleness.” He chuckles, remaining lighthearted and playful.

“I really don’t.” Jaemin brings your knuckles up to his lips for a lingering kiss, his eyes darting quickly on the road ahead now that you’ve entered the metropolitan areas and his speed drops significantly to avoid getting ticketed.

“I’ll come pick you up. Instead of being single tomorrow, you’ll be on a date.” When you turn to examine his facial expression, the serious tension in his jawline and focused eyes alarm you. Your stomach twists into knots and if he couldn't already tell, your palms grow sweaty at his offer.

“That’s such a slap in the face to them.” Pulling your hand away from his, you cross your arms and lean your head against the cold window. “I don’t think I can do that to them.”

“I have a race tomorrow.” He starts, his head tilting over at you with his round gorgeous begging eyes, “at least, come to that with me.”

“Okay, but only because I want to see Haechan.” As if it wasn’t moments ago, Jaemin was the one balls deep in you and now you’re spewing enthusiasm for another man. It’s all a joke, a way for you to conceal your undying attraction for Jaemin.

You still remember the first time you met the sunshine that is Haechan and the jealousy that seeped from Jaemin’s words when he noticed the exchange of flirtation. Haechan is someone you’d knowingly gravitate towards: a man with a loud personality that just knows how to conduct every personality in the room. And at that moment, Jaemin couldn’t tell if being more observant was a good or bad thing.

Jaemin never saw himself as outgoing as his other friends, staying more kept in his own circle, but he had the confidence to fake it. He’s bold, rather impulsive and slightly narcissistic, Jaemin knows how to use his strengths very well.

However, when he saw the soft smirk on Haechan’s face and your shy mannerisms, a small tinge in his chest ignited a died out flame. He didn’t realize it before, but that was the very start of his long tumble of feelings for you.

“Do you say those things to purposefully get me jealous?” Jaemin rests his hand on your thigh, giving it a harsh squeeze. His eyes never leave the road and his tone reverts back to his dominant tone.

“Well, are you jealous?” It’s like you two dance in circles, answer questions with a question does not stop.

And as bratty as your tone is, you don’t expect the quick “yes” that answers back and the smoldering look he gives you briefly before focusing back on the drive.

“Then good.” You huff, ready to hop out of the car after the odd, yet sensual tension. Jaemin pulls up to your house and double parks the car to lean in for a nightly goodbye kiss.

“You’re not coming in?” You try to read his facial expressions, but he hides his emotions too perfectly.

His lips curl into a smile before saying, “I think it’s better I cool off tonight.” And you mindlessly give him a peck, but he holds your face to deepen it. Through the kiss, you can feel the neediness by the way Jaemin shoves his tongue into your mouth. The taste of lust against your palette is difficult to ignore, but your academically responsible mind screams at you about your forgotten quiz.

Your hand lightly taps at his chest and he pulls away, his eyes drinking up your swollen lips. “I have a quiz, Jaemin.”

“I know, sorry. It’s just so easy to get lost in you.” Jaemin kisses your cheek once more before you exit. You smile back at him as his words have grown a strong effect on you lately. Bidding him goodbye, he wishes you sweet dreams as he patiently makes sure you’re fully inside your house.

“Is the music too loud?” Jaemin checks over at your hunched figure in the passenger seat. You’re diligently flipping through your thick textbook, a yellow highlighter in one hand and the other comfortably holding Jaemin’s.

The worst part of college is the never ending midterms that are given at any time. Studying in his car isn’t a rare sight, if anything it is more expected than you not doing anything related to your academics. But Jaemin genuinely doesn’t mind, even being mindful about his own actions to ensure an optimal studying space for you.

He really is an ideal guy. Like his first promise, he keeps you well fed and never once asks you for any monetary pay back. Jaemin adjusts the car temperature before you even step into the vehicle, knowing that you prefer wearing less clothes rather than more. Though he isn’t academically responsible, he still makes the effort to try and understand enough information to pass his classes.

The sole flaw would be the lack of open communication. It’s genuinely difficult for you to read his emotions or intentions. Jaemin always has a dazed look in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and it’s an internal fight about whether or not you’re being delusional.

“Music is fine, honey.” The mindless use of a pet name slips from your lips, but your concentration on neoliberalism and globalization doesn’t allow for you to notice.

Nevertheless, Jaemin catches on immediately to the usage. While he showers you in ridiculous nicknames, you’re not one to do so. “Honey?”

“Yes?” You answer back carelessly, not entirely actively listening to him as you highlight an important concept in your book.

“No, you called me honey.”

Looking up from your page, you blink at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “I did?”

Jaemin chuckles and finally pulls into the overly crowded parking lot, a whole mass of fanboys cheering at the arrival of his flashy vehicle. Everyone just loves Jaemin.

This familiar scene plays like a reel --- several high beams cast light under the dark sky due to the lack of functioning street lamps, dizzy multicolored cars that blaze the tracks, and the all too distinct smell of musky cologne in the chilly air. Oh, and the wide eye admirable stares when you get out of the car.

“Hi, you’re stunning.” A bold new recruit blinks at you in complete awe and awkwardly clears his throat once he realizes his rash comment.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him, then at how you plan on handling the situation. You’re flattered, nonetheless, but know that Jaemin didn’t bring you here to flirt with other men. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy your membership in the Ridin’ Club.”

The gracefulness in your delicate voice has the youthful recruit swooning and subtly giddy as he runs off to join a group of others that have been eying you across the parking lot. Jaemin casually drapes his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders, knowing the temperature change is going to result in you most likely catching a cold and because you never bring a jacket despite his plea.

“The power you hold.” Jaemin winks at you before pulling you into a larger crowd to socialize with more impressionable recruits.

“Ah, so you’re (Y/N)!” The stranger is unrecognizable, but you giggle to acknowledge his confident statement. “We haven’t met before, but Jaemin was talking about you the other night at our motorcycle meet.”

Your eyes light up, as if you’ve unlocked a new fun fact of Na Jaemin. “You drive a motorcycle too?” You’re truly shocked at the talent of this man.

Jaemin snakes his arm around your lower waist to draw you closer to his side. “Yeah, but I can’t fuck you in a motorcycle, can I?”

Before the other men can comment on the obvious sexual tension that Jaemin created, he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Actually, I can, but we’ll save our decency from unwanted exposure.” His hot breath grazes against the shell of your ear and you just know where you two are going to end up tonight.

“Bro, you guys probably fuck in the backseat of his car.” One of them chimes recklessly, punching at each others’ chest playfully as if he made a decent joke.

“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Jaemin retorts and the grip on your hip becomes tighter. You’re too flustered to add much into this odd form of competitive banter, distracted by none other than the way Jaemin keeps glancing over at you with a delicious gleam in his eyes.

“So what? You don’t care about us now?” You’d know that bratty tone from anywhere as Lee Haechan pushes past everyone else to rush over to the both of you.

“Aw, are your feelings hurt?” Jaemin sticks his tongue out at his friend before cordially sharing a handshake with him.

“Just slightly.” Haechan looks over at you with a wide grin and playful eyes, “hello, my pretty girl.”

“Drop the possessives, Haechan.” Jaemin rolls his eyes with an irritable twitch on his lips.

He hates how obviously jealous he gets. It’s something too difficult for himself to control, he’s exhausted his efforts to bite his tongue whenever it comes to other people’s flirtations. The thought of someone else calling you theirs doesn’t sit well with him.

“I understand your jealousy, Jaem. If someone was flirting with (Y/N), I wouldn’t be able to stand it either.” Haechan fixes the falling jacket on your shoulders. “But she can handle herself, I know those pretty lips have a mind of their own.” His gaze drops momentarily, yet obvious enough for you to grow shy at how strong Haechan is coming off tonight.

“Stop trying to corrupt her, that’s my job.” Jaemin playfully pushes at Haechan’s chest and they both break out laughing.

“I haven’t said one thing and you’re both talking about me as if I’m not here.” Your small pout is literally the cutest thing to Jaemin. He physically has to stop himself from planting the sweetest kiss on it.

It’s blatantly clear that you’re hot stuff. You’re the perfect example of a head turner, your captivating aura has its ability to suffocate those around you. However, Jaemin has seen all sides of you, but overall finding you so entirely cute. And oddly enough, Jaemin has a knack for cute things.

“Is that (Y/N) I hear?” Huang Renjun engulfs you in a hug, showing clear affection and doesn’t mind doing so. “How did your project go?”

“It went well. You accomplish a lot when you don’t procrastinate.” Renjun gleams at your statement and if Jaemin is delusional enough, he’d probably mistaken the twinkle in his eyes for infatuation instead of admiration.

“You’re so responsible, why are you messing with Jaemin?” Renjun sighs and though his question is more of a joke, there is some truth behind his words.

Your friendship with his friends differ immensely compared to other girls who have come around. Like Jaemin had said before, his boys were going to like you and they do, a lot. Sometimes making it obvious that you’re too good for him.

Jeno comes up from the side, an unidentifiable bruise on his neck and a new cut on his brow. Lee Jeno being such a rough character, his appearance speaks well about how his day has been.

But when he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all his pain is replaced with joy and security. “(Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The enthusiastic boy rushes over to greet you with a warm smile.

“I’m pretty sure I was here a week ago.” You laugh, but welcome him in your arms for a tender friendly hug and pat his head out of habit.

“It’s been a week?! That’s so long.” Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin and flicks his forehead.

“Ow!” Jaemin exclaims while rubbing the pain away. “You act like she doesn’t go to the same school as us and therefore, can see her any time you want to.” The tone in Jaemin’s voice raises some eyebrows as they all exchange glances to each other before bursting into laughter.

“Like your jealous ass would allow for that?” Haechan remarks and Jaemin doesn’t outwardly react. However, Jaemin’s hand is squeezing you so tight that you’re more than certain he’s bothered by the comment.

“Oh, stop it. You all know I’m Team Jaemin. He does have the most wins this past month.” You only know that through Jaemin’s proud boasting, anything else in the racing world is unknown to you.

Jaemin situates you in between his legs as he slightly sits on the hood of his car. His arms wrap around your middle and chin rests on your shoulder. Public display of affection isn’t a problem for him, and you learned much earlier that Jaemin can’t keep his hands off of you.

Renjun scoffs at your whimsical fact, in absolute disbelief. “It hurts more hearing you say it. I’m getting my car upgraded, but once it’s done, I’m going to blaze his ass on the tracks.”

“Are you racing today?” Jeno asks the blue haired fellow that clings onto you like a koala.

“Yeah, against a newbie. Apparently he’s really good, so I’m not too sure I’ll win.” Jaemin mumbles into your hair.

“You say that every time, yet you win!” Renjun crosses his arms, weight shifting to his left leg as he pops his hip out. There is always a sense of competition between anyone with Renjun.

Jaemin perks up behind you and when you turn around in his arms, you’re face to face with a beaming smile. “That’s because I have you.” Eyes lock with yours, he isn’t saying that directed to Renjun. Na Jaemin has you wrapped around his pinky, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach are too hard to ignore.

“Alright, lovebirds. Get in your car and let’s start this shit.” Haechan groans and claps his hands to draw the crowd’s attention. Cupping them around his mouth, he roars into the starry night, “let’s roll!”

During the race, Jaemin’s number one priority is to keep you safe. While you’ve sat in his car for a number of times now, it’s different once the loud bang goes off and he’s hitting 100 mph. Tonight’s track is much more dangerous, with twists and turns that can have the vehicle flying weightlessly if he’s not careful.

“You trust me, right?” Jaemin has both hands on the wheel and the engine rumbling as you both anticipate the start of the race.

Spectators watch on the sidelines as if it’s the ultimate battle, but Jaemin doesn’t pay them much mind. He’s more concerned about you instead. “Of course. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You’ve proven yourself that you’re an excellent driver, so let’s win this.”

Jaemin smirks at your encouraging words, feeling a warmth spread across his chest. “I’ll tap out any time you want me to, okay?”

You nod and the initial whip of the car is so intense that you didn’t even register the sound off. It’s not your first race, but it’s been awhile since the last one. When you adjust to the pressure, the lanes in front of you cause a slight queasiness in your stomach.

It’s a two lane windy road that wraps around the mountain side and Jaemin happens to be in the outer lane. All it takes is a second of lost control and you two will hit the metal railings that guard the cliff below. Despite your inner panic, Jaemin guides you through the pooling anxiety that leaves you restless.

“(Y/N), look up and out the window. We’re coming up on the cliff side view, I’ve always wanted to bring you here.” Your eyes land on the dazzling glitter that dances on the ripples of the lake. It’s so vast, the moon high up in the sky is reflected on the water below. It’s a romantic scene of melancholy and bliss. Suddenly, you feel at peace in the middle of this high speed race.

“It’s beautiful, Jaem.” You whisper calmly and he’d reach for your hand to hold, but races take too much wheel control. And he’d turn to look at you, but races take too much concentration on the road ahead.

But throughout every obstacle, he hears the gentleness and the solidarity in your cadence in the midst of all the high stress. He, too, feels peace. He feels calm knowing that you’re simply by his side, even in the face of danger. So, he can finally admit to himself… he genuinely developed feelings for you.

Before you know it, you’re thrusted side to side from the sharp turns and the adrenaline kicks in when the other racer catches up right next to Jaemin. “Fuck,” Jaemin curses underneath his breath and steps harshly on the acceleration. “Baby, I’m going to go a bit faster so hold onto something.” He warns and your hand finds the grab handle. It’s neck and neck at this point.

Usually, you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid becoming too overwhelmed by the sights in front of you. Tonight is different, not entirely knowing why, you’re observing every element that circles around the perimeter.

The finish line is up ahead, but there is no sign that the other racer is slowing down. Then, you see it: the fatal mistake that can cost you both of your lives if you didn’t catch it. “Jaemin, watch out!” You yelp when the other car inches dangerously close, your warning allows Jaemin to make a controlled swerve away from a possible hit.

Jaemin shakes his head and tsks at the recklessness. “Now I know why he’s good. It’s foul play.” He blows his bang out of his eyes and casually says, “thank you for warning me. This is why I need you by my side.”

He makes it to the finish line barely before the other, winning the race by half a second. Jaemin brakes smoothly, tire marks scrapping the concrete below, and you both exit the car to celebrate with everyone else.

But before the mass of eager shouting men make their way over to you two, Jaemin hurries to your side to pull you into a steamy, rewarding kiss. The scene is just like the movies; his hand on your lower back and yours on his chest lightly. His lips taste like triumph, like he had won more than just a simple race against a random stranger. He’s won the best person he could ever have.

You two fled the scene after cussing out the other racer. It was a rare sight to see: Jaemin being all bothered and angry, practically fuming after scrambling back into the driver’s seat. However, your mind had mischievous plans of its own and all it took was one look from his hooded eyes for you to announce that you wanted him --- badly.

Back in your usual abandoned parking lot, Jaemin pauses before following you to the back seats. With the engine off and the dead of the night being absolute silent, the tension remains thick around you two. “(Y/N),” Jaemin is about to confess something he never thought he’d admit. He turns to you sitting in the middle seat with just your panties on and a curious look on your face.

His heart burns and despite being so incredibly aroused, he controls his urges enough to be able to say, “I’m into you.”

“I know you’re into me, that’s how we ended up like this in the first place.” You giggle cluelessly to his words, still not understanding the odd shift in mood and intentions. It’s always his unclear, messy intentions.

Though he can’t entirely figure out his puzzle pieces, he has plenty to connect the dots. “I like you. I want to be in a relationship with you and call you my girlfriend.”

You’re stunned. Did Jaemin just confess to you as you sit in your panties ready to fuck? This softness is different from the sides you’ve seen of him. It’s similar to a lost bunny, wandering grasslands to find a purpose. He looks so fragile, one intense stare and he’d crumble. This softness is vulnerability.

“So do it.” The boldness catches him off guard, but switches on the dominance in him. “If you want me, come show it.”

He climbs over the middle console to push you into the leather seats. “Not acting shy anymore, are you?” Practically ripping your shirt off of you, he cups your breast lightly and flicks at your nipples. Your immediate reaction results in a rush of wetness down your core.

“Before I forget,” sitting up, you share a passionate kiss that you’ve held back long enough. You give it every ounce of feeling you have for him. “If it isn’t obvious enough, I like you too.”

“It’s obvious, baby.” Kissing your nose, he wraps a hand around your throat to lightly push you back down. “But hearing you say it out loud makes me happy.” Jaemin smirks, hand still choking you gently and pampering your jawline with soft kisses.

His free hand reaches down into your dripping panties, circling your clit with your wetness. The sensation causes you to whimper for more. “Daddy, give it to me.” You wiggle in his palm, knowing that the nickname is more than effective.

“My sweet (Y/N) wants to get fucked?” Jaemin rolls your underwear off and rids himself of his own bottoms.

“Yes, please.” Through the darkness, his hard dick stands proudly. Jaemin lines himself up as he thrusts into you without another second of hesitation. He waits for you to adjust to his size, his tip barely grazing your sweet spot. “Fuck…”

“You take me so well, my pretty baby.” Jaemin starts moving his hips, slowly at first to build a rhythm. Taking your legs, he presses them into your chest to fuck you at a deeper angle. And you feel him practically in your guts, his cock pumping against your walls deliciously and bumping into your g-spot. “Do you want more of me?”

Your train of thought is in utter shambles and whatever Jaemin is saying to you barely processes. You’re overwhelmed by a pleasure that fills every system, every part of your body. To answer him, you let out an incoherent noise of approval.

Jaemin pulls your hips down while thrusting forward into you, maximizing every inch of his strokes. This single action causes you to scream and grip onto the headrest. “Who knew my sweet girl could be so fucking dirty?” Jaemin chuckles darkly, his cadence dropping several decibels. “When I first met you, I wanted to ruin you.”

All of his filthy words edge you closer to your release as he continues to repeat his previous motion. He holds your hips in place to grind into you, the feeling of his tip rubbing your walls has your eyes rolling back. “Do you want to cum, (Y/N)?”

“Yes!” You yell, the tight ball in your lower abdomen is bound to break any minute. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You beg and moan, the arch in your back lifts you from the seat of the car. Jaemin snaps his hips into you, drilling you quickly to reach your high. And you break. An euphoric cry fills the air as your walls clench around his length. You hear the extra wetness create a slick noise, but Jaemin isn’t done with you yet.

“You wanted to cum so fucking badly. I’ll reward you with one more for being such a good girl for me.” His thumb flicks at your clit and you convulse into spasms from the sensitivity. Your violently shaking legs can’t hold themselves up anymore and Jaemin rests them on his shoulders. He lines kisses along your ankle as the pleasure overtakes you.

“I don’t think I can do it.” You whine, your fingers twisting and toes curling.

“You are going to try, okay baby?” He coos, but it’s most definitely a demand. He sits back on his knees to pick up more speed, fucking endlessly into your swollen pussy and thumb rubbing fast strips against your bud.

“I’m going to snap, Jaem.” You cry, tears rimming your eyes and before you know it, a second wave hits you. Your second orgasm is ruinous and has you squirming around to regain some sense of control.

“Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Jaemin slows down as your walls grip around him again, tighter this time. “I’m going to fill you up with cum,--- watch it drip out of you.” He grunts while releasing into you, his dick twitching and spraying your insides with white.

He pulls out as hot, white cum spills from your pussy. You take this moment to catch your breath and relax your legs. However, Jaemin coats his two fingers and shoves the cum back into you. “Jaemin!” You exclaim at the sudden intrusion.

He curls them into your plushy walls and finger fucks you into another oblivion. “Wait, again?” Your hands wrap around his wrist, but Jaemin moves too fast for you to catch it.

You’re a moaning mess again, louder than before. Jaemin leans down and flicks his tongue against your overstimulated bundle of nerves. Your back arches automatically and a low animalistic scream rises from your throat.

He observes your body lines underneath the moonlight and the last remaining light the broken street lamps have to offer. Your face contours and you’re so far out into ecstasy that you don’t notice how intensely Jaemin watches you lose yourself.

“It feels too good!” With one last thrilling orgasm, you almost pass out and you see small stars of dizziness. He soaks up every last bit of your cathartic reaction and festers a small sense of pride that he can make you feel all this pleasure.

“Such a good girl. You’re beyond impressive, baby.” Jaemin pulls his fingers out to lick them clean and finds some wipes to help you out of your sticky situation.

“Now that you’re my girlfriend, can we cuddle at any time now? Not just as after care.” He peers up at you and the one word enacts a burning warmth to spread across your chest. That is the best nickname he can call you by.

“I think the Singles Girls Only house event is still going on, but after that, yes a million times.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him into a big loving hug.

Jaemin feels right at home. All the long years of living carelessly and wild, he’s finally found someone worth the extra mile. While Jaemin was a thriving adventure to be explored, you were his comfort to run back to.

It is through the intimacy of your backseat chronicles that Jaemin was able to fall deeper for you. You’re his lucky charm, for some reason, he always feels better around you.

#neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct smut #jaemin #nct #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct dream series #ridinclub

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you!

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr. All credit goes to her!

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

"I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him.

"Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls.

"Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh.

Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there.

"How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly.

Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have.

"Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often.

"Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

"But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

"The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening.

Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham.

From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully.

"Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face.

"Baby monk, ya alright?"

Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her.

"Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell.

When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!"

That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest.

"It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe.

"Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.

Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb.

Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

"I did tell you."

"That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster."

And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

"Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

"How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business.

"Would you like to meet him first?"

A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about.

He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached.

"Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her.

"Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

"Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

"When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

"Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk.

"Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

"Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought.

That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

"You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice.

"Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement.

"I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked.

"I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile.

He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

"No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

"It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement.

"Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings.

Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared.

"No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be.

"She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face.

"Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

"Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

"I will if I must."

"Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares."

Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

"That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more.

As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

*****

Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes.

During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light.

So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time.

Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane.

Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's.

Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met.

Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step.

On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home.

After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench.

There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step.

*****

"So, what is going on between you and Cedric?"

You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

"You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

"Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it.

Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it.

Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

"Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer.

You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches.

The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else.

Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky.

A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.

"He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence.

Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.

"Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

"Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral.

Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own.

"But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed.

"Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance.

Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

"Your mother will let me in."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

*****

"What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal.

Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason.

When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer.

"Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him.

"Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

"Yes." You breathed out.

He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now.

"Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

"Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step.

"But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see.

That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

"He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true.

The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes.

"If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies.

As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.

"THANK YA, GOD!!"

The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness.

"Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled.

You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

"Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin.

"Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face.

"Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead."

Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric.

Just how you wanted it.

Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released.

"I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you.

"Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours.

"You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?"

It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry.

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