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gurugirl · 8 months

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Can We Start Over | Ch. 4 The Exit Strategy

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 4. Summary: It's hard for Harry to overcome not feeling a bit hurt after you left him the way you did but there are bigger issues you need to tackle, like the fact that Harry's doing something shady as well as figuring out how you feel about him.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, feelings of confusion and turmoil, angst, illegal dealings

Can We Start Over? masterlist

Harry woke up alone in your hotel room. He sat up and rubbed his hand over his chest and he couldn’t help but smile thinking about what had happened the night before.

But he couldn’t figure out exactly where you’d gone. He peeked into your bathroom and then stepped into his room, “Y/n?” You were nowhere to be seen. The smile he wore fell when he realized you weren’t there. Perhaps you’d just stepped out for a moment? But why? Harry looked at the clock to see it was only just past 7 am. For coffee perhaps?

Harry slid on a pair of pants and the shirt he wore the night before as he found his shoes and his key card. He figured he’d go find you. Something told him you hadn’t simply stepped out to grab a coffee.

“Y/n?” You quickly turned and saw Harry heading toward you. You’d been sitting in the lobby looking out the window. It was rainy. You’d planned on a walk but weren’t too fond of getting yourself all wet just so you could go through your existential crisis outside.

Standing up from your spot you gave him a weak smile.

“What are you doing? Is everything okay?” Harry stood in front of you and dropped his eyes over your frame. He looked frazzled. His shirt was mostly left unbuttoned and his hair was a mess. But the way he seemed worried had you suddenly feeling bad for the way you left him. But it wasn’t like you could stay either.

“I uh…” you scratched at your neck and frowned, “Needed some air. Needed to think about last night.”

“Okay. But did I do something wrong?”

You blinked your eyes and looked toward the front desk where someone had approached reception before looking back at him, “No, you didn’t. I woke up and realized… it didn’t feel right.”

Harry stood with his mouth agape for a moment before he began to shake his head, “Let’s go back up to the room to talk. We can’t do this here.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

He had turned around before you could even get out a response. He could tell by your demeanor what was going on. You regretted it. And now he felt like shit. He braced himself mentally for you to reject him.

The silence on the way up to your room was loud. Harry had his arms crossed over his chest as he kept his eyes down. He was clearly going over in his mind what had gone wrong.

And you figured maybe he’d give you the silent treatment once you got into your room but the moment the door was closed behind you he started, “Did I do something wrong, Y/n? Tell me the truth.”

You shook your head and looked at his face, “No. Of course not. I wanted it. I just…” you sighed and sat down in the chair by the window. Your head was fuzzy. Not only had you gotten little sleep everything with Harry was confusing. Your feelings surrounding him didn’t make any sense.

“You just what?” He leaned his back into the wall across from you and crossed his arms over his chest again. Now he looked like he was becoming angry.

“I feel like that was a big mistake. I should have known better than to do that.”

“Are you serious? You felt like that was a mistake?” He gestured with his arm before tucking it back against his chest.

Nodding you put your palms on your thighs and looked down, “It just can’t happen ever again. We shouldn’t have done it. I regret it.”

There it was. Harry pushed himself off the wall and laughed as he shook his head, “Wow. Okay. I asked you if you wanted it. If you were comfortable… But now you’re telling me it was a mistake? How do you think this makes me feel? Waking up alone thinking I was gonna have you there with me in bed. Really thought you were okay with it. Fuck…”

You watched him pace the room, “Last night I wanted it. I just… I woke up and felt like this shouldn’t have happened.”

Harry nodded and put his hands on his hips as he watched the floor, “Fine. You win. This back and forth between us,” he looked at you, “No more. That’s why I was cold toward you, and kept you at a distance, Y/n because it’s easier for me to be that way. The moment you wanted us to be amicable… I tried. But I hear you now. Loud and clear.”

Needless to say, the flight back was like torture. Harry hardly spoke to you and he certainly didn’t look at you. You had to jog to keep up with him half the time. Part of you was worried that he’d have the driver leave without you when he was already outside at the car and you were struggling with your suitcase which had lost one of its wheels somehow.

He finally did speak to you when you arrived at his home, “You’re free to do as you please today. No work. I’m gonna go out. We’ll get back to it in the morning.”

And that was it. You didn’t see him after he went to his room and you didn’t hear him leave but you knew he did.

“We had sex.” You called Brandy as you walked around in the back garden, after making sure you were totally alone and no one could overhear you.

“I knew you would, he–“

“No. It’s not like, Brandy. I hate that I did. I feel awful. I feel like I disrespected myself for it. What he did to me? That first night? How can I even feel attraction toward him? Sure he apologized and I understand what happened, but the fact remains, he treated me like garbage.”

“Y/n, don’t beat yourself up. You’re only human. And you two do have a connection, even if it’s small. He likes you. But it’s okay to not do it again. You still have a job right?”

You sighed, “Yeah. I don’t think he’ll fire me but… I don’t know if I can handle working for him anymore. What if something happens again? I’m just gonna keep feeling bad and Harry’s gonna get mad. Like now. He’s pissed.”

“Why is he pissed?”

“Because he woke up and I wasn’t there and told him it was a mistake so now he feels responsible I guess. I don’t know. He’s not really been talking to me since I told him I regret it.”

There was silence from Brandy for a beat as you sat on the bench under the trees at the far end of the garden.

“Was it good at least?”

You rolled your eyes, “Brandy…” you said in warning.

“Hey. I’m your best friend. You don’t have to act all high and mighty with me. You had sex with him again. Was it good? Like, at least if it was good then you can walk away knowing you had one last good time.”

“Of course it was. He’s good. But that’s really not the point, Brandy.”

“I know it’s not the point. I’m trying to get details from you is all. I’m nosey and what can even I say to make you feel better anyway? I feel like sometimes you take yourself way too seriously, Y/n. It could be good to lighten up a little. I know this feels like a big deal to you. I get it. I’m here to listen but there’s nothing anyone can say to you or anything you can do to reverse what happened. I’m here for you but truly. You could just calm down a little. Lighten up a touch.”

“Lighten up? Are you saying this is somehow my fault?”

“I didn’t say that. Why does this have to be anyone’s fault? Why point fingers? Shit happens. Why do you always need someone to blame?”

You sighed and closed your eyes, “I know. I like things neatly categorized and this is so not neat or categorized… I just feel like since I don’t know where to put this feeling it has to have a reason. But you’re right. The reason is just that…”

“Is just that you’re human and you gave in to a very human need. So did he. You both did nothing wrong in this case. I mean, maybe not the best idea to sleep with your boss, but like…” she laughed.

“Yeah, that’s another thing that’s hard for me to wrap my mind around. I slept with my boss. How do I go from here?”

Brandy chuckled into the receiver, “God you’re so dramatic, Y/n. I love you but you take shit way too seriously sometimes. Some things don’t need to be explained. Okay? Now you’ve got what you want, right? He’s probably not going to be flirty with you anymore after this since you told him it was a mistake. No more sex with the boss.”

You and Brandy were pretty much opposites when it came to personalities. She was light-hearted and went with the flow, while you were serious and liked order. You knew she was too light-hearted at times, though. Some things were serious and did need explanations so you could learn from them and never do it again.

But sometimes she was right. She had a good point about this issue. What could be done? You’d told Harry your feelings about sleeping with him again and even if it did hurt his feelings or make him mad you did what you felt was right for yourself. And that was that. What more could you do?

. . .

Harry walked through his front door sweaty after his run. It was 8:30 am. Your mornings usually started at 8. When you’d gone into his office and he wasn’t there you set up your laptop and then went down to the kitchen to get coffee.

It was unlike him. Normally he was ready for the day before you’d even woken up.

You watched him walk past you, not a single word as he went upstairs where you imagined he would go shower and then he’d join you in his office after he was done.

Except he didn’t go into his office. You were sat in your usual spot and responding to a couple of emails before you saw one from him.

Book two business class seats (not together) to Buenos Aires for the Friday after next, returning Sunday. See the attached for the email of the person we’ll be meeting and book the hotel he recommended. Set up our meetings and get the wire information from him in advance. Send to me before finalizing anything so I can look it over.

You frowned at this. You didn’t like that he was emailing you rather than speaking to you. You didn’t want him angry with you but you supposed this might be better than him being too friendly.

Harry’s attitude the rest of the week was the same. He only spoke to you when it was absolutely necessary. Not once did you find his gaze on you. No smiles or laughing. Nothing.

You hadn’t expected him to be so cold with you. You figured the boundaries you were placing with him were good ones. That he’d come around and understand why they needed to be established.

But instead of him being nice to you and having evening chats in his kitchen after Carl left and getting to know him slowly, he was completely shut off. You could say that he was being professional with you. Which was what you wanted.

Not like this, though. Not with barely a glance or a friendly smile. Not a single dimple showed itself to you over the next weeks.

And now here you were with him in Argentina where you should be enjoying red wine and empanadas but instead, you were sitting quietly while he conducted his meeting with the seller.

You said no to wine. It didn’t feel right. He didn’t push you. In fact, you heard him let out an annoyed short laugh and a mumbled suit yourself.

The man you were meeting with had a small stone sculpture that was considered an ancient artifact. You didn’t know how it was that he procured the item but it seemed like something that should have been in a museum. You did learn that many years ago it was considered stolen or lost. That didn’t sit well with you.

And when you tried to confront Harry about that he said nothing. He did look at you. His severe gaze sliced into you before he looked back at his computer and continued doing whatever it was.

You wanted to ask more questions. The man wasn’t even a gallery owner or someone from whom you’d normally buy art. The whole thing was shady. Something was off and Harry was giving you nothing.

But when you heard the price tag of the item you coughed and your eyes widened. The three of you were in a small dark room with shelves and boxes and the sculpture was sitting on a table under a light as Harry carefully inspected it.

“It’s legit. This is the real thing. I’ll let you look this over,” the man handed Harry a manila folder, “…you can see the paper trail. Where it stops. The timeline matches up. I’ll give you three hours to make a decision but after that, I have to move it to a safer location. I hope you understand the time constraint.”

You and Harry left the building, in silence as became your norm, and got into the car to head back to the hotel.

You watched Harry look through the paperwork and check the provenance but you knew this item was not going to have everything in place since it seemed it had been lost for some time. Big red flag. Perhaps this was what made Harry the kind of money he had. Dealing with lost or stolen artifacts was big money and definitely illegal. He had told you that he never did anything illegal.

Back at the hotel, Harry pointed, “Meet me in my room. Get your laptop. We have some work to do if we want to make this deal in the next three hours.”

You felt nervous. Felt sick to your stomach. Something was amiss about this whole deal and you didn’t like it. You weren’t sure you wanted to be involved at all.

When you got to Harry’s room he was on the phone with someone, “I saw it in person. It’s real. They are asking 2 but I can talk them down to 1.7. From there you and I can discuss what you’re willing to pay me but with the risk I’m taking I’d want a minimum of 2.5.”

He was discussing money. And you knew he was talking millions. The risk was that it was something that should not be on the market to purchase.

You waited for him to get off the phone before you spoke up, “Is this an illegal transaction?”

Harry looked down at his cell phone and typed something in before looking at you, unaffected, “No. I told you. Nothing I do is technically illegal.”

“I don’t want this to come back to bite me. If I’m involved in this and something happens? I could be linked somehow and I don’t –“

“Nothing is going to happen other than a huge payout. Just do your job, Y/n. I need you to find everything you can about this,” he clicked his phone and looked back at you, “Just sent it to your email. Look through everything and compare it to the photos I attached. Go down the checklist attached and make notes. The item had some damage and I need to get his rate down so my client will be happy with the price.”

You got to work. Even if you were hesitant a bit, you didn’t want to disappoint Harry. He was your boss above all. And you were stuck in Argentina with him.

But the more you learned the worse it was. The item had been stolen during World War II. Now that was a long time ago but still. You understood why what Harry was doing wasn’t “technically” illegal. Because the client would be the one wiring the full amount and from there, Harry would meet in person with the client to get his cut once you got back to the U.S and he handed the item over to them. It was illegal but it wouldn’t come back to Harry. His name wouldn’t be associated with the transaction.

When you’d given Harry everything you found he seemed pleased.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” You said as you stood in front of him as he looked over the provenance and your findings.

“And what do you suggest? Just walk away? You do realize your salary is based on how much money I make, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah but if it’s illegal then I don’t want to be part of this. And Harry, this is illegal. Maybe your name isn’t on anything but this whole thing is–“

“Stop! I already lost out on the last big deal because of you and I’m not doing it anymore. You’re nothing but an employee to me, Y/n. That’s what you wanted so that’s what you’ll get.” He made it a point to remind you that his behavior was your fault.

You dropped your mouth open and felt your heart drop. He blamed you for the failed deal with Hallie? You didn’t know what to say. It made you feel awful. You felt the sting of tears in your eyes as you looked down and turned away from him so he couldn’t see what his words had done to you.

“Now let’s get ready. Meet me in the lobby in thirty minutes.”

You stayed quiet during the whole thing, which seemed to be your new norm. You didn’t even look at Harry. You wouldn’t. You tried to get over the hurt feelings you had but that turned into anger. You were feeling mad. He was a true asshole and you were glad you had that clarity now. No more feeling bad for hurting his feelings. He was probably faking his feelings anyway.

After the deal was done you both went back to the hotel together but Harry left to get dinner. Alone. You ordered room service.

And you weren’t going to be drinking anymore. Not while you were anywhere near Harry. If there was even a chance you’d see him you’d not be drinking. That seemed to make you forgive him too quickly and you didn’t want to forget about how angry you were with him.

. . .

Nothing changed even when you got back to the U.S. Harry hardly spoke to you unless it had something to do with work. He didn’t even ask you to get his lunches from Carl anymore. And if you saw him in the kitchen late at night you’d just turn around and walk away. You didn’t have anything to say to him.

You sucked it all up, though. The money he was paying you was good. Very good. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could last. You could only be his punching bag for so long.

Every morning you would get your coffee and Harry’s for him as well before bringing it into his office to begin your day. That morning was like every other morning. Or at least you thought it was.

“Y/n can you close the door behind you? We need to talk about something private.”

You paused at the door and as you looked at Harry behind his big desk you took your foot to gently shut the door since your hands were full.

Placing Harry’s mug down on his desk you sat down in your usual spot and waited for him to speak.

He sat back in his chair and turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, “I need you to sign this,” he slid a piece of paper across his desk toward you, “It’s a confidentiality agreement. I should have had you sign it when I first brought you on but… Well, now’s a good time I think.”

You picked up the paper and looked it over. An NDA. He wanted you to keep your mouth shut about the illegal things he was doing. And you were sure this was his plan all along. To hire you, give you a taste of that big fat salary and the kind of lifestyle he paid for you to enjoy, and then hit you with this.

“Why would I sign this? It only protects you?”

Harry reached for his coffee and took a sip before responding, “Because I’m telling you to sign it. Because I’m your boss. Because I need you to keep quiet about what you’ve seen if you’re going to work for me.”

You shook your head and sat the paper down on his desk before picking up your coffee mug and sipping it slowly then taking a deep breath for what you were about to tell this asshole, “I’m not signing it. You either trust me or you don’t. And if you don’t then I’ll leave right now and you can find someone else to be your bitch. I’m not someone you can just walk all over. I’m not taking the fall for you ever.”

“Is this really how it’s going to be? You’re willing to walk away from this job because of an NDA?”

You nodded, “Absolutely. It’s an insult to me and my character. I take this job seriously and you know that. This is you trying to exert your power over me and I’m not falling for it.”

Harry stood up from his desk and walked to his window with his back to you as you stayed seated comfortably and took another drink of your coffee.

On the outside, you appeared calm but on the inside, you were freaking out. This could be it. You would probably be losing your job now that you were taking a stand against Harry.

“I didn’t want it to be like this, Y/n. I thought maybe you’d understand the need for this agreement,” he turned toward you and walked to his desk, putting his palms down on the wood with his eyes on you, “Sign it. Please.”

You laughed and sat your mug down before standing up from your chair, “No.”

Harry rubbed his hands over his face, “God damnit!” He paced toward his bookshelf and back, “I need you to sign that. I’m gonna be honest here and say I don’t want to have to find anyone to replace you. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I’m not signing it, Harry. I already told you that if you feel like you can’t trust me at my word I’m out.”

Harry rounded the desk and stood in front of you, “I trust you but this,” he pointed at the document, “needs to get signed.”

Shaking your head you let out an incredulous laugh, “You know what? I don’t need any of this. You and your shady deals… the way you treat me–“

“How do I treat you? Hm?” He blocked you from stepping away from him.

You swallowed, “You’re not nice. Just because I felt uncomfortable after we had sex, you got your ego hurt or whatever and so you’re taking it out on me and… acting like I did something wrong.”

“I’m treating you the way you want to be treated, Y/n. This is exactly what you wanted. Is it not? Because you know what’s going to happen if we get too friendly again. So it’s this or the alternative.”

You tried to step to the side and move around him but he followed, staying directly in your path, “You’re not leaving this room until you sign that,” he pointed at his desk as his eyes bore into you.

“You can’t make me sign that, Harry. You have no power over this situation and you know it.”

“I don’t want to fire you, Y/n. Please just sign it.” He sounded defeated.

You pushed at his arm lightly to get him to move out of your way but he wrapped his hands under your forearms to hold you in place, “Y/n, look at me.”

You huffed and looked up at him, held in place by his hands and speaking through clenched teeth, “What?”

“I need this from you. Okay? It’s me. You can trust me. I know you know that. I might not be the nicest person to you but that’s just so we can maintain a professional relationship like you want. Please, Y/n.”

You couldn't understand why it was so important to him. If he trusted you he wouldn’t need it. But he did seem desperate.

“I can’t sign that. That’s incriminating to me if anything were to ever get out. My signature with a promise of silence? No. No way.”

Harry looked up at the ceiling and groaned before he looked back down at you his hands moving up to your upper arms, holding you still, “I’ll give you a raise. I’ll make it worth your while, Y/n. What do you want from me? What will it take to get you to sign it?”

You pulled your brows together and shook your head, “There’s nothing you can do to get me to sign that, Harry. This is a matter of trust. And it’s an insult. Another fucking insult from you.”

“No. It’s not an insult. It’s not personal. I trust you. I do. I swear.”

“Then you don’t need that do you?”

He was standing too close and his fingers were digging into your shirt over your skin and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You noticed the stubble along his jaw and the darker patch of growth above his lip. Normally he was quite clean-shaven. Sometimes he’d let it go for a few days and you had to admit, you kind of liked the overgrown, unkempt look.

“Y/n,” he closed his eyes and you saw him clench his jaw before he looked back down at you, stepping in closer, “I… fine. You don’t have to sign it today. I can’t lose you or have you walk out on me. If we can trust each other then we can make this work. Will you take some time to at least consider signing it?”

You sighed and looked down at his shirt for an escape from his gaze, “I don’t know. I don’t think I can ever sign that.”

He released one of your arms and put his hand on your chin, pushing your eyes back up to his, “Just don’t walk out, okay? I’m worried you’re gonna quit and I’m gonna be fucked without you.”

You hated that you loved his hands on you. All it took was his nearness and his soft eyes looking into yours. But you didn't know how to respond exactly. You were glad he wasn’t going to make you sign it, yet. But how long did you have before he was badgering you about it again? You were still going to say no.

“If you trust me, you don’t need my signature on that document. I’ll never put pen to that paper, Harry.”

“Y/n…” his voice came out in a whisper as he moved his other hand up to your face, his thumb at your temple, “I just want to know you’ll stay. Forget the document right now.”

Even though you knew what was happening you couldn’t figure out why you weren’t trying to stop it. Why you weren’t pushing him away and telling him to keep his hands to himself.

“I’m here right now aren’t I?” You whispered back to him and suddenly your hands were on his forearms as he cupped your face in his hands and everything around you turned into a blur when his mouth found yours.

Your heart pumped violently in your chest as you slid your hands up to the back of his head and you felt yourself being moved to his desk, your bottom hitting the wood as he leaned over you and moaned when he felt your tongue against his.

You felt a notebook slip off the desk and something metal tipped over, hitting the wood. Everything was happening so fast.

Harry placed one palm down on the desk as his other hand held the back of your head, his tongue and mouth were instantaneous, urgent. You felt like a wilted flower about to blossom.

And you felt his desperation because you were experiencing it just the same. You both breathed in through your noses for oxygen as your lips slid together wetly. He was overpowering your senses but it was welcome in that instant. His scent, his weight against you, the stubble on his face scraping your soft skin.

His nose turned into yours and pushed your head to the side as he lowered his mouth down to your jaw. Wet, hot presses of his lips and licks of his tongue had you letting out a shaky moan as you clung to him tightly.

When he grazed his lips over your neck and sucked gently on your skin before lapping over the tiny bruise you felt his mouth lower to your sweet spot. That one little sensitive area that had your entire body igniting with need, your figurative wilted petals being nourished and opening up, seeking the sun and water and breeze.

“Don’t leave me, please,” he whispered into your neck between kisses and you stuffed your fingers into his hair.

Everything was spinning and disintegrating around you as his lips were ravaging your neck and up to your jaw again.

“Tell me you're not gonna leave me,” he pressed his mouth against yours, “Please, Y/n.”

The kisses slowed down, your mouths moving gently together, tongues softly poking out and retreating until you parted from the kiss, pushing at his chest so you could sit up.

And when his lips weren’t urgent against yours you felt the heavy realization of what had just happened crumble around you. You didn’t understand why you didn’t stop it at once, why you let it happen in the first place. Your brain new better. Your heart could not be trusted.

Your chest heaved as you looked at Harry, your hands still on his chest, “We can’t do this…”

Harry put his hands over yours, unmoving from his spot so close to you, “We can. There’s no reason to pretend there isn’t something here, Y/n.”

You watched his chest rise and fall and his kiss-swollen lips mouth the word please. You couldn’t hear him say it but you knew he said it.

Shaking your head you pushed him away and stood up, dizzy and flustered as you ran to the door to leave. For breath. For distance.

“Y/n wait!” Harry ran after you. “Please!”

You went to your room and stuffed your bag with things you’d need (for what? You weren’t sure at that moment) as Harry watched you from your door, “Y/n. Where are you going?”

You cleared your throat and looked at him. Which you immediately regretted. He looked heartbroken, “I need some air. I have to get out of here. I’m sorry,” your words were rushed as your hands trembled with the items you collected to bring with you.

Harry watched in dismay as you picked up your keys and walked past him before he reached for your elbow to stop you, “That’s fine. If you need to think. Just… come back to me okay?”

You couldn’t look at him as he said it and you didn’t respond as you walked down the stairs and out the door.

It was all too much for you. Reconciling what you knew you should have done and what actually was happening didn’t synch up. It didn’t make sense. You couldn’t stay there with him any longer.

. . .

Harry thought you’d return that evening after cooling off. He had a whole speech prepared for you. An apology, a confession… The NDA was because he was worried you were going to quit and that you might wind up saying something about what you’d seen.

But that had been stupid of him to try and get you to sign it. And you were right. It was a power move in a way. He wanted you to know who was in charge and put you in your place because he was so frustrated at how you’d regretted something that he longed for. Something he wanted. He’d wanted it so badly and then he had it… until you took that away from him. So this was vindication on some level. Vindication for the blow to his ego. To his heart. But that wasn’t fair to you.

When you didn’t come home he decided to give you space. Surely you’d be at work in the morning at 8 am. You just needed time.

But at 8:15 the following morning when you still hadn’t even so much as called he realized you may have needed more than just air. And that was concerning.

He called you and left a voicemail. And waited. And waited. You didn’t call back.

So he texted you later in the day after working a little (but he could hardly think of anything but you) but the response was the same. Radio silence.

Now Harry didn’t like being in serious relationships and didn’t like people invading his space or having someone clinging to him or wanting his attention or relying on him to be their emotional support in any way but his heart squeezed painfully in his chest when he thought about you and how much he enjoyed your company. It hurt to know that you weren’t feeling the same kind of connection he was feeling. It stung that he’d given a little bit of himself to you, whether you knew it or not, but that you rejected it. You didn’t want it.

He'd give you another day before he came knocking on your door to find out what was going on. One more sleepless night to let you come to your senses.

. . .

“Look, I know you, Y/n. You do this. Anytime someone gets close to you, you brush it off like it didn’t exist. When your dad tried to come back into your life last year? How he wanted to see you and make up for all that lost time?”

You shook your head, “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not. You run away from your problems when you can’t contain things in one neat and tidy box. And your relationship with Harry was never neat and tidy. So you’re pretending he doesn’t exist.”

You bit your lip and looked away from Brandy. You knew she was right in some ways. You couldn’t handle messy. Anything to do with your emotions that you couldn’t settle up in your head seamlessly you wanted nothing to do with.

And you couldn’t settle your heart and your head when it came to Harry.

“At least call him and tell him you don’t want to work for him anymore. I mean look at these texts, Y/n…” She held your phone out to you but you turned away. You couldn’t look. She’d read them to you already. You knew what they said. “He’s worried about you. All he’s asking is for you two to talk.”

Shaking your head you stood up from her couch, “I’m not talking to him. I’ll let the agency do it. I’m emailing Monica to tell her I need to be matched for something else.”

Brandy watching you grab your laptop from your bag and shoot off the email.

“I think it’s a mistake to quit.”

“Why would this be a mistake? Even if he was the nicest guy on earth, we can’t work professionally together. He can’t be my boss when we’re unable to stop from kissing in the middle of a disagreement or having sex on a work trip.”

You were leaving out the fact that he’d been up to something shady. Illegal. You decided you’d wait to reveal that to Brandy once everything blew over. As much as you hated that Harry was conducting business the way he was, you didn’t want him to get into trouble. Not that you ever thought Brandy would go off to the police or anything. It just felt better to keep that knowledge to yourself for a while.

“Okay. Fair enough. But you two have something. Why would you throw that away?”

“Because we don’t actually have something, Brandy. His judgment is clouded because I work for him and he likes that power, and that’s what turns him on. I’m easy access and forbidden. He doesn’t actually like me like that. And I guarantee the moment he learns I’ve quit he’s going to forget all about me.”

Brandy laughed, “You have to stop thinking that men don’t like you. You have to stop feeling like no one would ever find you attractive or that when they’re flirting with you that they aren’t. You always push that notion away but it’s crazy! It’s okay to admit when a man likes you back, Y/n. It’s okay to let that happen.”

You weren’t buying it. Men, as a rule, didn’t find you pretty. Not really. Not pretty enough to fall for. You were the safe girl for men to be around when they liked someone else. There would never be any confusion about that kind of thing. Not from you, not from anyone looking in from the outside.

Except Brandy of course. Always the optimist. You wonder what she’d say if she knew the whole truth about him.

. . .

Harry had it all planned out. He was going to buy you flowers and bring those special decadent chocolates from the chocolatier he learned you loved and beg for you to forgive him, or whatever it was that needed to be done. He was going to tear up the NDA in front of you so you knew he trusted you without a doubt. Confess his feelings to you once and for all. No more playing coy with you. He was going to win you over. Whatever it took.

And it was crazy that he was suddenly feeling such despair at the thought of losing you. He knew he was developing feelings for you. It was easy to fall for you with your spunk and your take-no-shit attitude, your adorable smile, your sexy mouth… there were countless things about you that he couldn’t get enough of. Knowing you might not come back had him anxious and feeling sick over it.

But before he had even gotten through half his day at work an email popped up from Personal Premier Services with the subject line: Exit Survey – Y/n Y/l/n 2776

He blinked his eyes as his heart thudded when he opened the email.

Dear Mr. Styles,

We’re sorry the assistant we matched you with didn’t work out. We strive to make sure all of our clients are pleased with the performance of each of our employees and would appreciate your response in the link provided so we know how we can make better choices for you in the future.

We’d love to be able to continue working with you. Please let us know if we can be of further assistance in finding the right person to work with.

Harry couldn’t finish reading as his eyes burned and his mouth went dry.

You had quit. You’d walked out after he kissed you and you weren’t coming back. He hadn’t expected you to quit. He should have seen it coming based on your lack of response to him but he didn’t. He was blindsided. Somehow he’d clung to the tiny bit of hope that you felt the same for him too.

Even though he was in the middle of searching for a piece of art his client wanted he stood from his chair and picked up his car keys, hurrying out of his home to make his way to you. There was no time to stop to pick up flowers or chocolates. No time to wait until the end of the workday after he’d made arrangements with a client. No time to pretend things would be okay anymore.

It took him over an hour to get to your apartment, traffic was shit. No surprise. He pulled up his contacts to find your apartment number once he arrived, and got out of his car to find which door was yours.

When he did find it and knocked with no answer he tried peeking into the one window but he could barely make out anything. You had drapes hung over the window and it appeared all the lights were off.

So he waited. He sat by your door and waited for you until you came back. Nothing else was more important to him at that moment. Even if he waited all night. To Harry, this was code red. His last shot with you.

. . .

You were feeling clear-headed. It was the right choice. It had to be because you couldn’t work for a man like Harry. A man who did illegal things and wanted you to sign an NDA so you wouldn’t talk. A man who you were far too attracted to for it to make any sense. It would just be a series of fights and cold shoulders and sex and longing…

Definitely, it was the right choice to quit. It had to be.

Unfortunately for you, when you got to your door Harry was there, scrambling to push himself up from where he’d been sitting, “Y/n…”

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk. I want to make things right with you.”

You shook your head and gripped the shoulder strap of your bag, “There’s nothing to make right. We aren’t good working partners. I should have never agreed to work with you.”

Harry stepped forward and took your hand, “Y/n. We… this isn’t even about work anymore okay? I don’t care about that. Quit if you want. If that’s what you need.”

You pulled your hand away from him, “What do you mean this isn’t about work?”

He sighed and kept his eyes on you, “Because… I like you. I feel like we’re–“

“No. Stop. Don’t do that. You’re confused because when I worked for you that was fun and risky for us to do. But I’ll bet that when the disappointment of me quitting wears off you’ll realize you don’t actually like me like you think you do.”

Harry furrowed his brow as you stepped past him to unlock her door, “What? What are you talking about? I’m serious, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t think you actually are, Harry,” you pushed your door open.

He was beginning to panic. He hadn’t expected you to reject him telling you that he liked you.

“Wait. Please. Look, okay,” he put his hands up in surrender. “Can I come in? We can just calmly discuss this. Person to person. Also, I really have to take a piss. I’ve been out here for almost four hours waiting for you and I should have thought about that before I left my house but I was in such a rush to get here–“

“Fine. Come in.” You let him through your door and closed it. “Bathroom’s just there in that hall. Do want something to drink?”

Harry looked at you with those soft eyes that made you falter for a second, “Some water would be great. Thank you, Y/n.”

You couldn’t believe that you’d let him in. That you were pouring water for him while he used your toilet. In your apartment. You shook your head thinking about how ridiculous it was that he was sitting outside of your door waiting for you.

When he came out you had his glass of water on a coaster on your coffee table in front of the couch. You took the chair at the side. There was no way you were going to sit next to him. Things didn’t seem to always go as planned when he got too close and you couldn’t have that happen.

“Sit,” you gestured at the couch.

Harry sat down and picked up the glass of water, taking a few big gulps, nearly finishing the entire thing.

You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for him to talk. You had nothing to say in that moment. You hoped it would be quick and he’d be out soon. You didn’t want to look at his handsome sad face for too long or you were worried you’d fold once again. Seemed it didn’t matter if alcohol was involved or not after all.

“Y/n you don’t have to work for me. I know maybe it’s not the best environment when we’re both attracted to one another the way we are. That’s okay. But… I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

“You’re not attracted to me in the way you think you are.”

Harry let out a laugh of confusion, “I can tell you with 100% certainty that I am extremely attracted to you. And it’s not just because you’re sexy. You’re intelligent and funny. I like you, Y/n.”

You shook your head, “Like I said. Wait until the disappointment of me quitting clears. You’re just not getting your way right now and that’s a challenge for you and you’re mistaking those feelings for excitement or attraction.”

The look on Harry’s face was sheer confusion, “What you’re saying is absurd. I came here to confess my feelings for you, Y/n. I… I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone. This is not some strange psychological thing where I’m confusing a challenge for attraction.”

“And you’re into illegal things so I just… I can’t be around that. It’s not worth it to me. You wanted me to sign an NDA. Put my name on a document that proves guilt and sign off on it? And now you’re telling me this? I call bullshit.”

“I don’t want you to sign the fucking NDA. That was stupid. It was in bad taste. It was a way for me to make sure you didn’t quit. I was desperate for keeping hold of something I felt slipping away.”

You laughed loudly, “A lot of good that did.

“I know. I’m so sorry. Y/n please… I’m dead serious here. Do you not like me? Are you not feeling this?” He gestured between himself and you.

You forced yourself to make eye contact with him and it nearly had your heart torn in shreds. You didn’t like the way your mind said one thing and your heart screamed at you for another. But even if you did like him and he liked you, then what? He was doing things that were disreputable. Illegal. That made him a person you didn’t want to be around. You had morals and you had your dignity to look out for.

“Harry it doesn’t matter what I feel or what you feel. I can’t be with you as an employee or a lover, or whatever it is you think you’re looking for. You’re involved in illicit sales of stolen artifacts and artwork. It’s illegal and I know that most of the money you’ve made has been doing dirty deals. How can I ever get over that?”

He looked down at the floor in thought. You were right. He understood your position but he couldn’t accept it. It was too much for him to wrap his head around that you would deny your feelings for him just for something that he thought wasn’t all that bad in the grand scheme of things.

“Y/n, I think it does matter what you feel and what I feel. I think that matters more than anything else actually,” he got up from his spot and you watched him with caution as he stood in front of you and got onto his knees, taking your hands in his, “Y/n, I can’t just walk out of here like this. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. You feel this too, don’t you? Tell me the truth.”

The fucked up part about looking into his eyes was that you softened for him every single time you did it. You tried to be strong and fierce. To be a woman with unshakable values and a strong sense of self but Harry had you feeling wobbly and unsure, “I do, but… it’s not fair.” You willed the tears to stop from filling your eyes.

“It’s not fair to us to ignore this. This feeling. This connection, Y/n.”

“Harry, what’s not fair to me is the way you treated me that first night. What’s not fair is that you hired me and didn’t disclose to me what you really do to make your money. It’s not fair to me that you’re here right now saying all this to me when it’s impossible! How can I say that I respect myself if I allow this to go any further with you?”

Your tears had a mind of their own as they pushed their way out of your sockets and poured down your face. You closed your eyes and then felt Harry’s thumb at your cheek, wiping your tears.

“Y/n, what do you want? What do you want me to do? Hm? How can I make you forgive me for that night? That was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. And everything else? What can I do?”

You shook your head but you didn’t dare open your eyes to look at him, “Harry you can’t do anything. The damage is done.”

“Y/n I can make it right. Please tell me what to do.”

“You can leave. That’s what you should do.” Finally, you peeled your eyes open and looked at him directly. You wanted him to know you meant business.

“Can’t we just–“

You pointed at the door, “Leave. Now. Leave my apartment, Harry. Go.”

Harry stood up slowly and swallowed thickly as he scratched the back of his neck and turned toward your door.

You pushed yourself from the seat ready to lock the door behind him but he turned back to look at you, “Please don’t do this, Y/n.”

You felt a pit in your stomach and a lump in your throat as you pointed at the door, “Go. Please, Harry. Just go.”

When your door was closed and your deadbolt latched you broke down into a sobbing mess on your couch where he’d sat. Only in private would you let yourself feel all those things your heart had pleaded for you to feel. You didn’t want anyone to see this. To know how devastated you were. It was the right choice but the ache in your chest felt like hopelessness.

To have found someone like Harry, the glimpses of his soul and his kindness and his cheekiness, the way he treated you when things were good…

But you had to collect yourself and wipe your tears and move on.

It was time to figure out your next move. Your lease was coming up and you had enough money to find somewhere else to go now. You felt like a new start in a new apartment, maybe in a different city would be good for you. It would make it harder for Harry to ever just traipse up to your apartment again and try to sweep you off your feet.

The first thing you did was block his number and his email and then you opened your laptop to begin the search for a new place to live. A new beginning.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Text

Already Gone || MV1 {7}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After the attack in your home, Max is serious about learning to fight. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, sparring, mentions of illegal activities WC: 1.8k

F1 Masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“Are you sure you should be drinking? You might have a concussion,” Max worried as you sipped the gin and tonic Christian had made.

“Relax, the lady’s earned a drink or two,” Christian said as he sat down with his own. “Nice job.”

You clinked your glass with your bosses before drinking half of the strong beverage in one gulp and sighing happily. “Thank you. Dare I ask where Brett’s taking them?”

Christian chuckled and shook his head. “Best to have deniability.”

Max looked uncomfortable at the conversation as he shifted in his seat beside you, his fingers massaging your shoulder that his arm draped across.

“I know you don’t like it, babe, but this is the reality of the situation,” you said softly as you took his hand and traced the lines that cut across his palm, not that you believed in the life line or the love line crap. “They wanted to break your hands. They weren’t here to have a pretty conversation that magically convinced you to lose your races. They wanted to make sure you could never race again.”

“I’ve increased the security on Checo but they seem to be focusing their energy on you.”

“Of course, Max is the bigger threat,” you stated obviously. “Anyone who can read the standings knows that.” Tilting your head towards the principal you cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You don’t happen to have half a billion hidden in your mattress?”

Christian scoffed as he swirled his drink, clinking the ice against the glass. “I’m not Pablo Escabar, and I don’t think my wife would sleep comfortably on the lumps.”

“That’s a shame, his personal army could’ve been helpful.”

“What do you want half a billion dollars for anyway?”

“Euros, actually.” You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and opened the app for the stock exchange, scrolling through the companies of interest you had saved before tossing it on his lap. “They wouldn’t sell the majority of their shares but there is a sizable chunk up for grabs. Certainly enough to get a seat on the chairboard.”

Christian looked at the trading name and chuffed at the thought of being a board member at Scuderia Ferrari before he took a sip of his drink. “Let me see what I can move about.”

“Wait, you’re not serious?” Max baulked at the idea before helping himself to your drink at the look you gave him. “Fuck, you are serious.”

“If you need a shell company I have a few old ones to spare.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Christian chuckled as he finished his drink and started to head to the door. “I’d get that fixed pronto if I were you.”

You gave him the thumbs up as he left while Max walked him to the gaping hole where the broken door used to be. “See you next week, boss.”

Walking back to your side, Max scratched his short beard and said, “I think we should go to a hotel tonight, liefje.”

A gust of wind blew through the open door and swayed the picture frames on the wall to accentuate his words. “I think you’re right, preferably one with a spa.”

He smiled as he kissed your temple, careful to avoid the swelling on your forehead. “I’m sure I can find something for you.”

Two Months Later “Shit,” Max grunted as the wind was knocked from him.

“Please don’t hurt my star driver before his final race,” Christian said as he walked into the gym and found Max bent over his knees panting.

“I haven’t touched him,” you defended yourself while you rubbed Max’s back. “The speedball took him out.”

“If anyone asks, it was Rico Verhoeven.”

You snorted a laugh. “He loves you too much to hurt you. He would probably let you take him down.”

“Probably,” Max groaned as he straightened up and cocked a brow at his boss who held a file in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Just some paperwork for you to sign,” he said to you as he held it out. “Our lovely Director here will be heading to Italy next week for her first board meeting.”

You hadn’t really missed your old line of work but you couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill to stepping into the lion’s den. Max wasn’t too happy about it, but you had convinced him not to worry, or at least accept it. Christian had been able to shift some money around to make the investment feasible and it had been collectively decided that you would be the best person to take the seat.

Now that the seat was filled you would be able to give the go ahead to your contacts and Scuderia Ferrari stocks would rise once again over the winter break, lining Red Bull’s pockets with profits. It was a win-win.

“What I wouldn’t give to see the faces of those smarmy old bastards when you walk in the boardroom,” Christian mused as you signed the last of the documents. “Benedetto doesn’t know what he started.”

Max had recovered from his winded state and pulled his boxing gloves off to have a drink, taking a seat next to Christian on a weight bench. “You are lucky I am so charming. I should get a bonus for saving the team with my good looks and wonderful personality.”

“Greedy bastard, isn’t the €55 million I am paying you each year enough?” Christian said with a burst of laughter.

“My girlfriend has expensive taste.”

“Hey, I had no problem affording my own lifestyle before I met you,” you pointed out as you stole his drink bottle and pointed to the heavy sandbag. “And I didn’t say you could have a break. Gloves back on, Prince Charming.”

“I’ll leave you love birds to it. Don’t forget dinner tonight,” Christian said as he made his way back to the door. “Oh, and try not to be beaten by a bag, Max. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Max held his gloved hand up and you knew he was trying to pull the finger inside of it. “Very menacing,” you teased as you grabbed your own set of gloves and joined him in the ring. “Shall we dance, pretty boy?”

“Do I get a reward if I take you down?”

You blew a kiss to your boyfriend and raised your hands. “How about you focus on just trying to land a punch?”

“I’m competitive, liefje, I respond best to incentives.”

“Is that right...well, in that case, how about this?” You closed the distance between you and brushed your lips along his jaw until you reached his ear. “You take me down, and you can take me down.”

His athletic stamina that kept him strong for the races showed no sign of weakening as he followed you around the ring, relentlessly trying to take you to the mat. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you ducked and spun out of his reach, and you saw his cheeks flush with the same exertion of his effort.

Deciding he had pushed himself hard enough for one day, you planted your foot and deflected the throw he made. He overextended past you, leaving his side open for you to wrap yourself around, dragging him to the thin padding on the ground and rolling until you straddled his hips.

“Good work, but it’s time to rest. You have qualifying soon.”

“I’ve already won the championship, plus I could start last on the grid and still get points,” he said with a cocky smile before he stole your signature move. He used your own momentum against you, twisting his hips as he reached across your body. The room spun as you were flipped onto your back and suddenly you were looking up at him. “I just can’t help winning, see.”

“Go on then,” you dared as he hungrily eyed your body pinned beneath his. “Take your reward.”

“We could get caught,” Max groaned as he glanced at the door Christian had left through, knowing it was unlocked.

“You’re not scared are you?”

All his blood rushed south of his brain and he found no reason to deny you both. “Fuck it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair with just the team and their families. The real party would come after the race, but you were quite content as you were when the group broke up at the end of the evening.

Geri had taken the children off to bed while the mechanics went to a nightclub nearby for a ‘nightcap’. Christian wished them a good evening and a polite suggestion to not stay out too late. It left you, Max and Christian moving to your fully stocked bar in the presidential suite and sinking into the plush seats.

“What a fucking year it’s been,” Christian laughed as he rubbed his beard.

You snorted a laugh and kicked your feet up onto Max’s lap. “It’s been exciting though, you have to admit that.”

You smiled as the two recounted their favourite parts of the season while you browsed the NASDAQ Dubai journal you had started reading before dinner.

“It’s a shame George is still sick, he can’t catch a break.”

“You think George being sick is a coincidence?” you commented as you turned the page and chuckled. “Tell me you are not that-“ you fell silent at the look Christian gave you and just shrugged. “It’s quite easy to replicate illnesses with certain substances is all I’m saying…”

“Why go after George?” Max pondered aloud while Christian sat still processing what you had inferred.

Your boss’s eyes lit up with realisation and he grabbed his phone to open the F1 app to confirm his thoughts. “Because if George scores anything above fourth place tomorrow Mercedes will beat Ferrari in the constructors championship. That’s worth a few million euros, at least.”

“Bingo.”

“Do we do anything with this information?” Max asked as he began to massage your ankle. Though he had almost come to accept the dark underbelly of the sport, he still didn’t like it and it made him nervous.

“We can’t prove it,” you said with a shake of your head as his massage glided up your calf muscle, like a cat that kneaded a spot for self-comfort. “It’s not exactly a bad thing too, Ferrari coming second. It will make for great telly seeing Toto throw a bitch fit.”

Christian nearly spilled his drink with the belly laugh that filled the suite. “I’ll cheers to that,” he toasted as he held his drink forward. “To the end of an exciting season.”

You leaned in with yours and tapped it with his and Max’s. “And to another one next year.” They both cut you a side eye and you bit your lip to suppress the smile. “Or not.”

Click here for the next part.

#max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine

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sevenf1ng3rs · 4 months

Text

His Burden: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: “I never make mistakes”

Word Count: 1k

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader

Genres: Innocent!Reader, Troubled!Namjoon, Blossoming Relationship, Big Secret, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Humor.

Rating: 18+, Mature

Warnings: None for this chapter.

---------------------------------------

"Ugh, it's too hot to go to work."

You look up at the blistering sun, trying to will the heat from the sky. Walking to work in this heat should be illegal.

Do I have to go to work today?

As you walk, you start to get a call from someone. You cringe when you take your phone out of your pocket and check the caller ID. Considering whether or not to send him to voicemail, you answer the call.

"I know you're thinking about skipping work. And no, it's not illegal to walk in this heat because I know you're thinking that too. Get your ass to work. You've missed two shifts this week."

"Yeah yeah, I'm on my way," you reply in frustration and hang up on him.

You pick up your pace and run to work at your quaint coffee shop in the small corner of 5th and 40th, a cute place you've grown to love over the years.

"I'm here," you sigh with relief as you slam open the door and jog inside, placing your hands on your knees to catch your breath.

"About time," your boss replies, staring judgingly down at your panting form.

A customer walks in after you've caught your breath and have finally settled into work. A mysterious man with a brooding pout, his golden brown eyes trained to the floor, pink lips and tan exterior capturing your gaze immediately.

"Hi, how can I help you?" you greet with a sweet smile.

"One iced americano. No sugar. Thanks," he replies with an icy glare.

Does he know me? Why is he so cold to me?

The mysterious man watches as you make his drink with grace. He follows your broad hips and dainty fingers as you waltz around behind the counter and fumble with the large coffee machine.

"I think that guy likes you. He won't take his eyes off you," your best friend and coworker, Maddie, whispers to you subtly.

You sigh at her prodding, continuing to make the coffee.

"No way, he barely spoke more than a sentence to me."

"His eyes glued to your ass speak for themselves. Plus, maybe this is your opportunity to finally go all the way if you know what I mean," she replies while teasingly pushing her hip into yours.

"He is not, and don't say that so loud, Maddie," you blush and glance back toward the man, who quickly looks away once catching your eye.

You top off the coffee and turn around to place the drink on the table.

"One iced americano, no sugar for..."

"Namjoon." the man finishes your sentence with a punctual stare.

"Sorry, Namjoon, have we met before?" you shyly ask.

"No. Trust me. I'd remember a face like yours."

"Oh well, if that's all, I'll just continue with the other customers then," you stumble away with a mix of shock and flattery.

Shit, I knew I had forgotten something.

"Oh, I forgot to give you a stra-"

As you reach into your pocket to grab a straw, you slip on a stray napkin, starting your descent toward the floor.

Before you hit the shop floor, you're met with one robust and muscular arm saving you from embarrassment. His arm tightens around your waist before carefully bringing you upright. His cold stare breaks for a moment, worry flashing across his eyes briefly.

You feel his arm brush across your breast, causing a flash of heat toward your core. Your underwear starts to stick uncomfortably to your untouched insides. You're worked up so quickly that you feel slight wetness as your legs reclaim themselves on the ground.

"Thank you so mu-"

"Don't worry about it," he says, his stare distant again.

You hurry back to the counter with your head hung low.

God, I am such an embarrassment.

You look up to see Maddie grinning a mischievous smile, basking in your misfortune like the loving best friend she is.

"What was that girl," she says, her voice teasing and eyebrows raised, trying to hide a laugh.

"It was nothing. I just slipped,"

"Yeah, sure you did," she replies, her grin growing impossibly wider.

You ignore her, grab the paper slip from the register, and quickly return to Namjoon.

"I'm sorry about the trouble. I'll make sure to add a free pastry next time you come in," you plaster on your best customer service smile, pretending you aren't wholly humiliated and still slightly wet.

"Who says I'm coming back?"

You look down in shame, but something catches your eye under the table.

There's no way, is that his-

You snap your head up, splashes of red blooming across your face.

So it's not just me, you think to yourself.

He signs the receipt and walks away without another word. You collect the receipt, expecting a low tip, but see something that shocks you completely.

On the receipt is a 100-dollar tip, along with a phone number and a name signed at the bottom.

This must be a mistake.

"Oh, sir, I think you made a mistake on the receipt," you call out to him.

"I never make mistakes," he says in a cocky manner before swiftly exiting the shop.

Click for Chapter 2

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sinistersxns · 7 months

Text

Muse Blurbs

Savannah was up bright and early, in her office, doing the mundane things. Checking bills, writing checks, doing the math, and making sure everything else that was illegal was going smoothly. Glancing at the clock, she read the time. 8:30. She sighed softly to herself and carried on with the day, lifting her cup and taking a small sip of the still-too-hot coffee.

“Ms. Garza. You’re 9 is here.” Her phone speaker announced and she looked at the clock. 8:59.

“Let them in.” She responded, putting the pen down and crossing her legs as she relaxed into her chair. Keeping an eye on the clock, she smirked a little, watching the big hand shift the time to exactly nine and then heard the click of her office door opening and her assistant letting in four large men.

“Good morning gentlemen. Have a seat.” She purred, picking a small strand of hair off her cream colored skirt. Of course the rival mob boss sat down across from her, and she smiled sweetly at him but her senses kicked in.

Slight breeze on her right cheek. Temperature about 72 degrees. Four men, two armed, one guarding the door and the fat man himself surely to have the gun as well.

“What can I do for you today Gabriel?” She hummed, twisting her chair back and forth a little at a slow pace, and letting her left hand rest on the cool glass of her desk.

“You can start by getting your poor excuse for soldiers out of my city.” The thick New York accent wasn’t lost on her but she just smiled.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Gabriel. I have ports to run. Important and quality packages to sell.” She retorted, watching at the man just chuckled, like he had the upper hand here because she was a woman and had no guard in the immediate area. But he would be wrong.

Two snipers on the building behind her, ready for her to give the signal if needed. But she wouldn’t need them.

“That’s where your wrong Garza.” Arrogance dripped off his voice when he said her last name and it made her skin crawl. But instead she just took a deep breath, losing her patience already.

“I have more loyal customers than you. And paying ones.” He said as if it were a fact but what he didn't know was that Savannah was quickly changing that.

“Break a few bones, kill a few family members and loyalty quickly changes hands Gabriel. You should know that.” She said quietly, her smile gone and her dark brown eyes turning cold and soulless. And, of course, the polite air had turned into bristled and charged air between them. The kind of feeling one gets when waiting to see who would swing first.

When he stiffened, so did the body guards, and she caught a glimpse of which arm twitched as they moved to rest their hands on their guns, only halting when the fat man himself raised a hand to halt their actions. He was a smart man, perhaps he could sense that Savannah had more up her sleeve than she was letting on. In which case, he would be right.

Pursing her full lips in faux contemplation, she shifted forward in her chair, picking up her coffee and taking a sip, letting the silence get thicker and thicker with each passing second. After a moment, she set down the mug, purposely slowing down her actions to inflate their anxiousness and uncertainty as she held her gaze with the rival mob boss. A silent battle of dominance and playing chicken all in one.

“So…" She broke the silence finally. "Are you going to kill me?” The young mob queen asked, looking down at her desk and doing the little thing of straightening the pen, shuffling papers into a neat pile and making sure her desk light was in just the right spot, two inches to the left of where it was previously.

“If you don’t agree to pack up your shit, get the fuck outta my city and leave my buyers alone, then yes. My boys here will fill your perfect tight little body with bullets and toss you off the bridge.”

Looking at the men, she smiled a little before opening her top desk drawer and pulling out the solid gold gun that was crafted specially for her. Setting it on the desk slowly, the guards drew their guns and she noted which hand was holding them.

“Think you can?” She asked with a cocky smile.

And that was all it took. The tension in the air finally charged and cracked with her words as everyone sprung into action. Guns were raised, cocked and fingers pulling the triggers. But Savannah was milliseconds ahead of them already. She grabbed her gun, pulled the trigger three times as her arm moved from right to left. Two for the armed guards and one for the fat man in front of her. The silence settled in once more, bodies crumpled on her carpet and in her expensive leather chair. The one man left guarding her office door, wore a surprised and shocked look on his face when he finally registered that the other men had dropped like sacks of potatoes on her nice carpet in pools of their own blood. But she wasn't done. Pointing the gun at the last one standing, she watched as he gulped and mentally prepared himself to be next. However, she fired the remaining twelve bullets into the wall by his head and at his feet. When it clicked empty, she then waved him over, and he obliged, shaking visibly as he did so.

“You’re the last one standing. That makes you the messenger. Tell Gabriel’s second in command to come visit me. Tell him that we matters of mutual self interest to discuss.” She said sweetly, as she set the gun down on her desk, waving to dismiss him before she lifted her cup of coffee to take another small sip, the opposite hand moving to her office phone and pressing the preset button for her building's janitor room. "Javie, make sure to call the Garbage Man on your way up. I'll have three bags of trash waiting for him."

#Savannah musings #ramble ramble #hm i need to do more with mob queen savannah

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gayspaceheist · 1 year

Text

What Harry Seville-Oct was not having was a particularly good morning. He was having a power drill jammed into his head and whirring away at his brains -- right, that would be the hangover. Fantastic. Also he was sleeping with his feet on the mattress and his face on the floor, which was sticky. He tried thumbing back through his memories to see how that had happened but the brain goop kept getting in the way. Probably he should open his eyes, but he suspected if he did the drill would spontaneously generate a second identical drill spinning the opposite direction on the other side of his head. He opened his eyes anyway. Actually, he had underestimated the capacities of the drill. It was a lot worse than that. For a smeary moment between heartbeats he daydreamed longingly about vomiting, but his mouth was so dry he suspected that wouldn’t be any use. Well, nothing for it. He was going to have to remember how legs worked.

That turned out not to be a viable plan. What he managed was to roll over onto his back, while the room thought about coming back into focus. Ceiling fan, great. Tie on it, that made sense. Ceiling, no holes. Superlative. His face collided with a soda can, mostly empty. That also made sense. He waggled an ankle experimentally. Oh great. He was wearing a shoe. Just the one, though. Both socks. The other shoe was… somewhere. A memory finished buffering. He’d kicked it off stumbling into his apartment with an armful of -- oh, shit. At least two hundred falsified identity cards, some blanks. Because his last client yesterday had brought them in on the air train, in a box, and said, hey, by the way, can you hold on to these for me for a couple of days? I can’t have them in my apartment, and the kid was nineteen and desperate and trying not to be on trial for running a forgery ring, and Harry, well, Harry was a fucking sap. That had been why the, the drinking, and the -- oh, and his mother had called while he was in the office, and her voice message only said, “Hey kid, I need a favour, call me back”, and usually his mother’s favours involved smuggling, and Harry was not having the kind of week that could be improved by smuggling. Yup, there it was, the whole stupid night, sitting on the mattress on the floor and sorting through the box of forged id cards checking to make sure he didn’t recognise anyone in it, drinking cheap acceleration-distilled whiskey out of the bottle dolefully. He’d made a little pile of id cards where the defects stood out too much, even though it wasn’t exactly a lawyer’s job to tell a client how to do crimes less sloppily. Okay, it was kind of his job. Who else was going to.

Thus fortified by memory, he managed to roll back over onto his stomach and push himself up on his elbows. This proved to be a massive mistake -- the drills had developed opinions and their current opinion was that they hated this and were bent on displaying their disapproval by grinding more of his brains to slop -- but it was too late now. There was his little pile of poor forgeries, and there was the whiskey, the single finger left in the bottle glinting at him in the -- ow, the sun -- like a bad joke. The sweet thought of violently expelling the contents of his stomach once again came to him like a beautiful dream, but as he recalled his stomach didn’t have any contents in it. He should do something about that. And also the extremely illegal stolen evidence all over his apartment. At the very least it should go in the big filing cabinet safely with all the other stolen evidence.

It was only about six years, give or take, before Harry managed to careen about the room enough to rearrange himself into a conventional person shape -- two arms, two legs, vaguely perpendicular, all that. What he needed was water, then coffee, then a big glass of that horrible orange stuff with the specks that usually seared the hangover out of him with less speed and reliability than the box claimed it was meant to, but at least it usually did. He had the good sense to remove his remaining shoe. He was not sure where his trousers were, which was probably for the best. His boxers stuck to his thighs, horrible with sweat and probably spilled soda and whiskey, judging by the sugary grit to them. He thought about how many laundry credits he had left and decided showering in his clothes wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had.

So when he managed to propel himself out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, unshaven and hair a thicket, in socks and boxers and his best work shirt, which had achieved a state that might shortly demote it to second-best, what he was not expecting to see was a beautiful starlight vision of a man sitting at his kitchen table, drinking coffee out of his least chipped mug, smiling at him.

He yelled and knocked a jar of lentils off the counter with his elbow.

“Oh, hello, Harry!” said the vision, beaming delightedly at him. “You’re up! I was deciding whether or not to wake you, but you didn’t look very wake-uppable in your state.”

“What,” said Harry very slowly through gritted teeth, “are you doing in my apartment.” He had an absolutely horrifying thought and rapidly flipped back through his memories again, but there weren’t any of one of the worst-idea hookups he could imagine stuck to the backs of any of them. He hadn’t been that drunk last night. He rotated his tongue in his mouth, just in case. Mostly it just tasted like evil garbage.

“You should probably have some water,” the vision said gravely. “You look like a husk.”

Harry stalked to the sink, thumbed on the tap, and filled a mostly clean glass. He took a long sip, glaring over the rim. “Answer the question. Why. Are you in. My apartment. How did you get past my security system. Did you steal any of my shit. What the fuck.”

The vision -- Harry thought his name was Kelvin, or Kitty, or Karapace, but the last time he’d seen him a month ago he’d mostly been a decorative background figure leaning on various objects of furniture while Harry helped one of his least favourite clients sort out an untraceable off-planet account -- another one -- smiled again, though at least this time he had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Your security system is a door chain, so that wasn’t very difficult. I don’t think I want any of your stuff. I’m here because you might be about to be in some trouble, and I couldn’t risk calling your work number. Zarrow didn’t have your personal mobile.”

“No shit she fucking doesn’t.” The eye-twitch he had specially reserved for [Firstname] Zarrow came out of retirement. It wasn’t that Zarrow was his worst client -- she’d never tried to murder him, or set him up with her aunt, or peed in his office, or -- okay, maybe he should start screening his clients better. It was just that she was so fucking annoying. Also, more importantly, trouble followed her around like she kept her pockets full of trouble-treats just to lure it in. Harry was usually the most irritating person he knew, and it threw him off his game to have to compete with someone who enjoyed the competition. Also, Zarrow was high-profile, and he didn’t like high-profile. People who kept a framed wanted poster behind the display of the jewels they’d stolen that had netted them that precise poster were not the types of clients he needed, as a guy with a vested interest of keeping the cops’ noses out of his business, but -- well, Zarrow usually paid a lot. And she was perversely convincing, and her jobs always seemed -- fun. Right up until he was trying not to get shot in the ass, or arrested. “Wait.” He tried to blink the eye-twitch away. “Uh. What trouble am I about to be in, exactly?”

Kventhe, that was his name. What a fucking name. Kventhe uncrossed his legs and sighed heavily, looking intensely apologetic. Well, everything he did looked a little intense. His skin was a sort of alabaster pale that was presumably meant to look human but had a faint pearlescent sheen to it, and his long nearly-white hair always seemed to be blowing very faintly in a light wind, as if he’d employed a secret fleet of drones with tiny fans to keep the mystique up. Harry knew he was some type of off-planet alien hybrid sorcerer type, which was fine and all, every major city had a fair amount of off-planet freaks, but for some reason this one went to great, if unsuccessful, effort to hide himself. Harry knew he used some kind of implant, without which he presumably looked even more fucking weird, because one of Zarrow’s crew had hired him to get her some black-market components for it shipped safely one time, but he had no idea why the man put in so much work to maintain an illusion of ordinariness that clearly wasn’t working. He was wearing a half-threadbare grey sweater and belted trousers, which actually just made his jellyfish tendrils of pale hair and shimmering skin stand out more, but who was Harry to judge a man’s fashion choices. He wasn’t even wearing pants.

“Well!” said the beautiful shimmering jellyfish man. “You remember Billy Ten-Shins? The guy who --”

“Oh god,” said Harry. “The guy with the… the arms?”

“What? I don’t know. Uh. I don’t know anything about his arms.”

“One of them’s a dart gun.”

“What? That sounds -- never mind. Anyway, you got him fined? Like, three months ago? That whole thing with, with the fake passports, and the -- Well. He didn’t enjoy that very much.”

“I can’t imagine he did.” Harry leaned back, and then realised the floor was covered in lentils.

“Anyway he just got out of a work ship and I guess his business sort of fell apart while he was in there and he’s pissed and bored and has it out for you. So. He’s gunning for you. And I thought you should probably know about it.”

Harry blinked, slowly. “Okay. Why the hell do you know about it?”

Kventhe shrugged. The motion lilted his hair over his shoulders like some kind of fucking sea plant. “Tried to hire Mina to program one of those follow drones to see where you lived. Guess he didn’t know we were friends,”

“We’re not friends,” Harry said, automatically. “You broke into my house.”

“Oh! So sorry!” Kventhe made a show of getting up and putting his coffee mug down. Harry’s coffee mug. “You’re right, what was I thinking, I shouldn’t have assumed, nobody wants to know -- that’s really more of a third date sort of thing, telling someone a lunatic with a dart arm wants to ruin their life, I’ve made a wild miscalculation --” He was putting on his coat -- he’d brought a coat? -- and he was laughing. He turned, shooting Harry a luminous grin over his shoulder. “Guess I’ll be going now! Oh, wait, your keys --” His hand went into the pocket of his coat and then he was tossing a ring of keys onto Harry’s table. Quite a lot of keys.”Wouldn’t want anybody to get in trouble.”

Harry’s hangover throbbed. ‘Those aren’t mine,” he said wearily.

“Oh, I know,” Kventhe said cheerfully. “I nicked them off your super. But I don’t need them anymore, so.”

“Okay! Fucking hell! I give up! We’re friends now, okay!” Harry lurched over to the table and sat down -- Kventhe had taken the good chair, so he was left with the one with the foot perilously close to snapping. He grabbed Kventhe’s coffee mug -- his coffee mug -- and took a swig. “Oh. Yuck.” Kventhe was apparently a rapturous devotee of sweetener. Disgusting.

“I made you one,” Kventhe said reproachfully, and sat back down. “As a gesture of friendship and goodwill.” He pushed Harry’s second-best coffee mug at him, which he had to have washed, because Harry’s third, fourth, and fifth best mugs were somewhere in the mess of papers and dishes and detritus accumulated on the table. “And because of the, well.” He gestured at Harry’s general appearance.

Harry put his head down on the table. “Okay,” he said into the sticky varnished plexiwood. “Okay. Tell me about how the dart man is coming to ruin my life because I ruined his life. And then go away. I need to throw up.”

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urfavstonr1 · 2 years

Text

Mortician And The Info Broker

Chapter 17

Series- Durarara

Pairings- Izaya Orihara/Original Female Charater. Kyohei Kadota/Original Female Charater.

Current word count- 2367

Content Warnings- Blood and Gore, Rape, PTSD, Mental Illness, Abuse, Trauma, Violence, Smut

MasterList

“It’s nice being the only one that gets to see him that way.” Seishi has a small smile on her face as she thinks about it, knocking at the door echoing through the apartment.

“Speak of the devil~” Izaya smirks. Toshiko attempts to get up and get the door, but Izaya pulls her back down to his lap. “Nope you get to stay right here.”

“Izaya~” quietly giggling.

“THE DOORS OPEN!” Seishi yells over her shoulder, typing away again at her laptop, but as she hears the door open she quickly shuts the device and places her notebook inside her textbook and closing that as well. She quickly gives Izaya and Toshiko a look, silently telling them not to mention the events of this morning, or their conversation. Izaya rolls his eyes jokingly, but giving a look that he understands and Toshiko unfortunately distracted by Izaya still holding her down.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Kyohei walks into the apartment, slipping off his shoes and walking closer to the couch, Seishi smiles as he leans down to hand her her coffee and gives her a kiss.

“Just doing some research. I think you should sit down? I gotta tell you something kinda important.” Seishi takes a sip from her coffee and moves her laptop and textbook back to the coffee table to make room for him on the couch. Izaya and Toshiko staying quiet to allow them to talk.

“Should I be concerned? Is that a bite mark on your neck?” He looks her over concerned as he sits down.

“So well. Yes. I’m getting there. Don’t be concerned, I don't think?” She reaches out and takes his hands in hers, “I got a new job.”

“That’s great but that doesn't explain the bite mark.”

“I said I’m getting there.” She squeezes his hands and sighs, “My new job is with Nebula corp. I’m working with Shinra’s dad. And my first appointment was with a succubus.”

“A succubus? Like the demon?” Kyohei looks at her confused.

“Yes, like the demon. Anyway, she seems to have taken a liking to me and I’m kinda being haunted by her?”

“Haunted is an understatement~” Izaya mumbles under his breath in Toshiko’s ear and she lets out a scoff trying to hold back her laugh.

“She came to me last night in my dream and I woke up with these marks on me.” Seishi gives him an awkward smile as he processes the information.

“Is there a way to make her stop doing that?” He asks.

“That’s kinda what I was researching, I don’t have a definite answer yet. But next time I’m at work and see her I’m gonna see if there is something I can do about it.” Seishi smiles at Kyohei with a sigh, “Oh! Also you can’t tell anyone I work for Nebula. I signed an NDA and this is technically illegal to be telling you.”

“You should already know your secrets are safe with me.” He smiles at her before pulling her into a quick kiss, as he pulls back he makes eye contact with Izaya and clears his throat, “Other than you working for Nebula and being haunted by a succubus how is everything else?” His eyes shift back down to Seishi, “Are you liking the new job?”

“Yes! Other than the shit with Meru it's been fun! I’m learning so much, there are so many things in the world that I had no clue of!” She seems to bounce in excitement as she speaks, “Other than Meru I’ve also met vampires and a few fairies! They live all over Japan just like regular humans! The Fairies use magic to appear like humans. I wish I brought my research binder home with me but it’s sitting in my office.”

“Would Shingen let you take that out of the office though?” Toshiko cocks her head to the side curiously.

“He takes his binders home all the time.” Seishi turns to look back at Toshiko, “I don’t know why I wouldn't be able to.”

“I mean I just figured with it being classified information and all that you guys would be extra careful.” Toshiko shrugs.

“From what I’ve been told we’re allowed to take our research home to analyze further if needed but it needs to stay away from prying eyes.”

“Let’s be honest though, even if there was a rule to not take it out of office, Shingen is a confident fool at times~” Izaya chuckles at the thought.

“Tell me about it! He left me alone in the exam room with a succubus on my first day.” Seishi groans and leans against the couch, “I could punch him for the shit that she did to me in my dream..” she takes another sip of her coffee, letting out a happy sigh.

“What did she do to you in your dream?” Kyohei asks her, his voice just above a whisper as he watches Seishi’s face turn a bright red.

“Are you jealous Dotachin~?” Izaya smirks over at him.

“At Least he lets me orgasm! That was just plain torture!” Seishi blurts out before covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide at her blurting of words.

“Sounds familiar..” Glaring at Izaya.

“Hey now I wouldn’t be that cruel~ I only told you can’t moan last night, was it really that torturous for you?” Izaya leaning his head on her back.

“Oh my gods.” Seishi mumbles to herself.

Toshiko turning to face him, “Yes it was cause you said you would stop if I did… all cause I said yes to play your stupid game..” booping his nose.

“You say that though, but I could tell you were losing your mind over it~ Maaaybe we could try the succubus's idea as well hmm? ” Izaya confidently grins.

Toshiko sighing at his remark, “You do that and I will do it right back~” She lets out an evil and sarcastic chuckle, “You may be a Sadist but I am to, so test it if you dare~”

“You’re going to regret saying that later~” Softly pulling her chin, bringing her face close to his.

“Do you guys have no shame?” Seishi looks at them with a sneer.

“Does Izaya ever have any sense of shame?” Kyohei lets out a chuckle.

Izaya looking over at the two of them, “Cause where is the fun living life censoring ourselves~”

Toshiko glances over at Seishi, “It seems your mind lacks some shame too with that dream of your’s~”

“Hey! You said it's normal to have these kinds of dreams and urges! I can’t control what a succubus drags from the depths of my mind!” Seishi snaps?

“I mean it is normal, but now you are one of us in a sense~” Toshiko giggles.

“I can tell you one thing..” Izaya thinks out loud, “The world your looking into may not be new to us but I’m positive it's totally new to Dotachin here”

Seishi looks to Kyohei, who’s face isn’t giving her any answers. She opens her mouth to ask him about it but quickly shuts it as she thinks, looking down to the floor. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.. they are just kinks and honestly from things I’ve seen on the internet it's pretty tame..” Toshiko trying to reassure her.

“Up until this morning I didn’t even know what bondage was! And and I don’t even know how to address it outside of researching the hell out of it.” Seishi whines as she leans against Kyohei with a sigh, he gives her a small smile as a blush creeps up to his face and pets her hair, trying to make her feel better.

“Easiest way to address it is like ripping a bandaid off and just asking or saying it to the one you want to try it with.. Like how you asked us questions since you're new to the whole BDSM thing and by the look on Dotachin’s face with his reaction to the word bondage I’d say he would give it a try~” Izaya scoffs.

Kyohei clears his throat, his face growing redder. “We don't have to talk about this now, not in front of them. I know this is a lot, I'm sorry.” Seishi mumbles against him, trying to hide her own blushing.

“Hey we won’t bite~” Laughing at his own words, “but why don’t we give them some privacy..” Izaya leading Toshiko to the back porch, “some fresh air does sound nice~”

“So, uh. In my dream it was kinky?” Seishi looks down to her hands as she sits up to get off of Kyohei, “She had me tied up and was hurting me and it felt so good, but I feel so guilty that it wasn’t you I was experiencing that pleasure with.”

“You can’t control your dreams, especially when it’s being affected by a succubus. It’s ok.” He places a hand on her cheek, making her look up at him, “And if you wanted to try those things with me I am willing to try anything as long as you’re happy, Seishi. And I don’t think any less of you for having these urges.”

“I do want to try more stuff together, I just want to do more research on it first! Like what I’m into, I’d love to know what you're interested in as well! That's also what I was researching before you came over. There's so much to this and I crave to know more about it and about myself.” Seishi leans to grab her notebook from inside her textbook, presenting her notes to Kyohei.

“I love seeing you light up when you talk about things you're excited about like this.” He smiles at her and leans in for a kiss.

Seishi smiles and kisses him, placing her hand on his cheek as she deepens the kiss, “And I love seeing you and learning about you.” She pulls back and stretches her back, “I’m gonna go smoke then when I get back I want us to both learn about each other, if you know what I mean.” She snickers and stands up with a wink before walking away towards the balcony, as she walks past him he smirks and smacks her ass, causing her to yelp and blush brightly.

***

Izaya and Toshiko feeling the fresh air hit their faces, he takes the seat in the back corner and pulling her down with him back onto his lap. “Remember the thing I said earlier you would regret~? Wrapping his arm around her waist, slipping his hand down her pants, but on top of her panties.

Toshiko gripping his shirt, leaning her head against his as a smirk grows on his face while feeling her warm panting breath against his skin. “I-Izaya what if my s-sister walks out..”

“And so what if she does~” Softly nibbling at her ear, slowly rubbing carefully, her underwear growing more damp the more he continues to tease her.

The balcony door slides open as Seishi steps out with a cigarette between her lips, as she looks to the side she groans, “do you guys ever fucking stop?” She grumbles before slamming the door when she steps back inside and heads towards the front door, still grumbling with the cigarette in her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Kyohei stands and follows her out the front door.

“They’re being gross on the balcony.” Seishi mumbles and lights her cigarette as she leans against the wall, taking in a deep inhale and blowing it out over the wall.

“Gross?” He looks at her confused and leans against the wall next to her. Seishi gives him a look before looking out at the street.

“Yes. Gross.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and blows it out with a sigh, “It’s like they can't keep their hands off of each other.”

Kyohei chuckles at the thought, “I mean it makes sense, fresh relationships are like that for a lot of people especially people who are already comfortable with having sex..” looking out at the city, “and honestly I’m glad Izaya found someone that he can be this comfortable with.. It’s like a miracle.” a soft smile on his face.

“It’s nice to see Toshiko happy but it’s weird witnessing it as her sister.” Seishi lets out a laugh, “In my head I want to do nothing but touch and be around you but everything still feels so new and awkward.” She looks down at her hands and ashes her cigarette, “You’re my first for so much, Kyohei.”

“We’ll get there when you’re comfortable.” He smiles as he wraps his arm around her and presses a kiss to her temple, causing her to giggle.

***

Izaya picking up Toshiko, surprising her, “What!?”

“I mean she already knows~ so let’s just move this to somewhere more comfortable~” Izaya’s smug face beaming while he carries her to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he tosses her gently on the bed. “Don’t worry~ we will make this one quick” he smirks.

After finishing off her cigarette Seishi and Kyohei head back inside the apartment, Seishi sitting back on the couch with a sigh, reaching for the remote to turn on the tv while situating her laptop on her lap again to continue her research. As Kyohei sits down he looks over her shoulder at her screen and blushes.

“Is this what you were dreaming about?” He asks while looking from the screen to her.

“Well, yeah. And as alarming as that dream was, I would like to learn more about it.” Seishi continues to do her research, at the moment mostly about bondage and being what she found is called a ‘rope bunny’.

“So you want to be tied up?” Kyohei smirks down at her, this question makes her freeze and begin to blush brightly.

Soft moans accidently leak out of Toshiko’s room through the silent apartment, along with Izaya chuckling.

Seishi groans and hunches over her laptop, “I just want a little while without having to hear my sister moan.” sighing as she’s sure she’s changed the subject.

“You didn’t answer me.” Kyohei gently grabs Seishi’s jaw as she sits back up, forcing her to look at him as he smirks and raises a brow at her.

The blush returns to her face as she tries to think of how to respond, “Yes?”

“Yes, what?” He presses her for more, the smirk on his lips widening.

“Yes I want to be tied up.” Seishi’s eyes looking away from him as she answers. Kyohei clears his throat for her to look at him again.

“I want you to look at me when you say it.” His voice is low and stern as he talks, the look in his eye made Seishi feel like melting into a puddle.

“P-please tie me up.” Seishi stutters out, her eyes not leaving his. He smirks once again and pulls her into a kiss.

“Good girl.” He smirks at her as he pulls away. He sits back against the couch to let Seishi continue her, now sexually frustrated, research.

As Seishi continues her research she feels a pit form in her stomach, quickly moving her laptop to the coffee table, and running to the bathroom.

Izaya walks out with Toshiko, rejoining Seishi and Kyohei in the living room. He sweeps his hand through his hair, fixing where Toshiko was pulling at his hair from their quick shenanigans in the bedroom and Toshiko readjusting her clothes. Izaya sits down in one of the arm chairs as he pats his lap for her to join him. “You’re insatiable sometimes I swear..” she gives him a blank stare from his frisky behavior earlier and with her sister home no less.

“And so are you~” He gives a wide smirk while she sits on his lap and pouting, laying her head on his shoulder and relaxing trying to ignore the truth in that statement.

Toshiko glances around the room then at Kyohei, “Where Seishi go? She alright?”

Kyohei stands from the couch to follow Seishi to the bathroom, as he's about to knock on the door and it opens to reveal Seishi. “Are you ok?”

“I thought I had to throw up? But I didn't and now I want like, chocolate and cheese? Like chocolate covered cheese. Colby jack.” Seishi contemplates to herself before walking to the kitchen, opening the fridge and rummaging around, “Ohhh and peanut butter.”

Kyohei blinks for a second, confused before following her, “That's probably one of the weirdest combinations I’ve heard.”

“Yeah I know but it sounds so good.” She turns around to look at him with a slice of cheese in her mouth, “I don't think I have any chocolate though.”

Toshiko cringes at the thought of the food combo her sister just listed, “How does that sound good together.. just no..”

Seishi shrugs her shoulders and returns to the couch with her tiny hoard of snacks, “I don’t know, maybe my period is coming up?”

“I feel like these cravings are a lil crazy for a period..” Toshiko stares confused at Seishi.

Izaya chuckles, “Hormones, what a mysterious thing when it comes to being a human.”

“The human body is so fucking weird, hormones are constantly fluctuating and changing can do so many different things to the body!” Seishi speaks enthusiastically before taking a bite from one of her snacks.

As they talk and Toshiko’s head is still laying on Izaya’s shoulder, the feeling of being super comfy sets in and she accidently drifts asleep. “Looks like I wore someone out~” Izaya laughs at his own joke while gently placing a hand on her head.

Seishi snickers and leans back on the couch, “I feel like we should do something cause I have today off but I don’t know what to do.” She gasps and perks up, clapping her hands together, “We should go out drinking!”

“The last time you got drunk you blacked out and refused to drink water.” Kyohei groans, leaning back on the couch.

“That won't happen this time!” Seishi looks at him, giving him puppy eyes.

“And I don’t believe you.” Kyohei looks down at her with his brow raised.

“We can even treat this as a celebration to congratulate you on your new job!” Izaya smiles, “It’s not everyday people get a job opportunity like that” Softly pinching Toshiko’s cheek, waking her up.

“Whaaaat I was comfy~” She playfully whines rubbing her eyes awake and stretching, nuzzling back into his shoulder almost falling asleep again when he pinches her cheek again as he lets out a soft laugh.

“As cute as that was, it's time to wake up~!” Toshiko sits up while rubbing her cheeks as Izaya insists her to awaken.

“Alriiiight.. Are we going somewhere or something?” She looks around groggily at everyone.

“We're gonna celebrate Seishi’s new job by taking her out for a drink!” Izaya says enthusiastically as he stands and helps Toshiko to her feet.

“I mean I’d be a fool to turn down alcohol!” Toshiko perks up at the sound of their plans.

“Hell yeah!” Seishi jumps off the couch, “Where do we want to go? I’ll go get dressed!” She runs off to her room excitedly.

“There is this all you can drink bar right by Ikebukuro station that will work perfect for this situation~” as he walks towards the door putting his boots on and Toshiko hopping behind him excitedly at the thought of all the liquor she can drink.

Seishi leaves her room in a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and her blue cropped hoodie with an excited smile, “Lets go!” She pulls Kyohei off the couch and walks towards the door to put her shoes on.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Kyohei chuckles as he’s dragged to the door by his excited girlfriend.

After a short walk they make their way in front of the all you can drink bar called the Public Stand, Izaya pulling out his wallet covering the all you can drink fee for everyone and passing out their tickets for the use of the bar to everyone. “It’s on me so let’s all have some fun~”

Toshiko getting them a table and getting them a round of menus and overly enthusiastically ordering some drinks for her to start trying, “I can already feel myself salivating!”

Izaya wrapping an arm around her waist, “Slow down~” As he lets out a loud laugh, “There is no rush.. We have all night~”

“Ohhh I don’t know what to get..” Seishi mutters as she looks over the drink menu.

“Ah I have an idea! You could always close your eyes and pick at random whatever your finger lands on, you order it!” Toshiko grows a smug grin.

“What if I order something gross?” Seishi grimaces at the thought.

“I’ll drink it for you! No alcohol will go to waste on my watch~” Toshiko says confidently and hits her hand on her chest.

“I guess.” Seishi closes her eyes and places her finger on a random drink on the menu, opening her eyes to look at it, “Fuzzy Navel, peach schnapps and orange juice, that actually sounds really good.”

“Lucky roll! I bet it will be bomb!” She says with a big grin on her face.

“Why do I have a feeling I’ll be carrying you home~!” Izaya lets out a loud laugh.

“I can hold my liquor, you shouldn’t need to do that..” Toshiko puffing out her cheeks and pouting.

Seishi giggles, about to say something before Kyohei lets out a chuckle, “I know that I’ll need to carry this one home for sure.”

“Wha-”

“And having to force water down your throat.” Kyohei playfully glares at Seishi as she pouts.

“And mind you, I drank more than her that night and I didn’t even get drunk.. I kinda just fell asleep.. Kyohei can vouch for that! I wasn’t even slurring my words, I just got tired cause that day a lot happened..” Looking at Izaya with a fire in her eyes, “How bout this.. If I get drunk, which I may not.. but if I fail and get drunk you can do whatever you want with me.. anything you want~” Staring down Izaya, “consider it a challenge!”

“Oh I bet you’re gonna regret that decision~” a devilish smirk grows on his face.

“Oh gods, where's the waitress, I need this drink.” Seishi looks around them for their server. The waitress arrives gently placing the drink she ordered in front of her and the plethora of drinks Toshiko ordered onto the table.

“I hope you enjoy your drinks, if you need anything just let me know!” As she politely bows and leaves them to their drinks.

Toshiko picks up one of her random drinks and raises the glass in the air, “cheers for Seishi’s new job!”

Seishi raises her drink as well with a smile, Kyohei following behind with his beer, “To my new job!” She takes a big swig of her drink and licks her lips, “That is really good!”

With their cheers Toshiko chugs one of her drinks down in one go with a loud and satisfying gasp of air, “Man that is delicious!” Izaya just drinking a water, preparing for the worst.

Seishi shoots back the rest of her drink like a shot, slamming the glass back on the table with a satisfied sigh.

Toshiko already shooting back her third drink, “I bet Seishi is gonna get bombed and fast!” Laughing out loud.

“So are you if you don’t slow down!” Izaya softly chuckles, “And you’re mixing liquor and that is only going to make it faster~”

“You underestimate me!?” She side eyes him with a smirk.

“Not at all~ I just know everyone has their limits.. We are all human after all~” Izaya wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in closer.

After many drinks and lost time later, maybe an hour, and still the dead of night yet almost early morning. “Where did Seishi go?!” Her words a little slurred.

Kyohei’s head whips around, “What the fuck?” His voice wavered as he stared in a buzzed confusion, “She snuck away? To where?” He stands from his chair and looks around the bar.

Toshiko sighs, “When she’s drunk, she has a bad habit of wandering off. I keep being tempted to buy her a wrist leash.�� She laughs loudly, “I think we should now for sure.”

“Should we be worried?” Izaya questions curiously.

“Hmmmm not sure honestly, she won’t listen to me when drunk but maybe Dotachin can and he is taller so finding her should be easier for him.”

Before Kyohei could say anything the sound of angry screaming caught his attention.

And there she was, a short, drunk, blue haired girl; beating the shit out of someone.

“SEISHI!” Kyohei yells as he runs over to the scene and pulls away a still thrashing Seishi, the guy she had been beating on laid on the floor curled in a ball.

“THAT’S WHAT I FUCKING THOUGHT YOU MOTHERFUCKER, GRAB MY ASS AGAIN, I FUCKING DARE YOU!!!” Her angry yelling sounded more like barking, her eyes glaring daggers into the guy on the floor.

“Seishi calm down!” Kyohei tries to draw her attention to him, but she was so focused on the guy on the floor, if looks could kill this guy would be deep in hell by now.

Toshiko rushes over despite being a little shaky in her feet trying to snap her fingers in front of Seishi’s face and tries to get her back to reality, “Yo hello Seishi? You already kicked his ass, you can relax now.”

“Are we sure he didn’t do more? Cause damn her rage is next level right now~” Izaya chuckles as he walks up to them.

“I just asked if she wanted to have a good time!” The guy on the floor responds in a wavering voice as he scoots away from the group.

“And I told you I have a boyfriend and you continued to be a fucking creep and grope me!” Seishi growls at him, wanting to continue to beat on the creep. His lip is busted and bleeding and he has the beginning of a black eye.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He yells while shakily trying to push himself up as he gets stopped by a boot to his shoulder and it shoves him back down and Toshiko staring down at him with a pure menacing look.

“Excuse me? What did you call her!?” Stepping on him harder as he grits through his teeth in pain.

Izaya laughs at the live entertainment, “Now now~ I’m sure you both have terrified the boy enough.” They both look down at him with his face filled with terror, Toshiko taking her foot off him and he runs off as quickly as he can.

“FUCKING RUN AWAY YOU BUILT FUNNY LOOKING PUSSY AS BITCH!” Seishi stands slightly swaying with a satisfied smirk.

“Oh my god we are going to get kicked out of the bar..” Trying to lead Seishi outside before anyone is tempted to kick them out and get black listed from the bar and Toshiko and Izaya following close behind.

Seishi happily trots behind Toshiko, “Do you have any cigarettes on you Toshi?”

“Yeeeaaa~” Her voice still slurring as she sways while she digs her cigs out of her coat pocket and tosses Seishi the pack of cigarettes. The cigarettes smack her in the face before bouncing off her boobs and landing in her hands.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re drunk..” Izaya glances down at her scoffing.

“Nooooo I’m not.. You can’t prove shit!” Crossing her arms while they walked.

“Oh really? How many fingers am I holding up~” Izaya smirks.

“Hey you’re cheating though! When did you get a third hand!” Toshiko stumbles into him.

“This proves my point~” He laughs out loud.

Seishi struggles to flick the lighter to light her cigarette and her attempts soon lead to a tiny temper tantrum, where she turns to Kyohei with a distraught whine. He sighs and takes the lighter from her hands and lights the cigarette, shoving the lighter into his pocket. An excited squeal leaves Seishi as she takes the first hit from her cigarette, blowing out the smoke and leaning against Kyohei, “Thank youuuu. I love you so much Kyohei~!”

Izaya kneels down offering Toshiko a piggy back ride, “Here this will be faster since you seem to be struggling to walk” He chuckles.

“I’m fine I’m not druuunk..” Izaya gives a blank stare to her response.

“Just get on…” He lets out a soft sigh.

“Fiiiine.. but I’m not drunk..” She climbs on his back and wraps her arms around his neck as she lays her head down on his shoulder while they walked.

“Whatever you say~ but you most definitely are~” Izaya growing a massive smirk on his face.

Kyohei rolls his eyes and places a hand on her head, gently petting her hair, “I love you too Seishi.” He chuckles as she happily smokes her cigarette next to him.

Finally returning to the apartment Izaya could feel Toshiko passed out on his back with her deep steady breaths and waits patiently for Seishi to unlock the door. Seishi fumbles with her keys, eventually getting the door unlocked and opened with a triumphant smile on her face. Izaya pats her on the head, “Good job~” carefully carrying Tosiko inside and towards her room.

Seishi’s eyes light up at the praise and pulls Kyohei inside, easily slipping off her shoes and flopping herself on the living room floor. Kyohei follows behind with a smile, rolling his eyes at Seishi while sitting near her on the couch.

“Welp looks like someone tuckered herself out, so I better get her to bed.” Nodding to both of them good night as he disappeared behind Toshiko’s bedroom door.

Seishi begins to whine and wiggle on the floor, flipping onto her back with a huff, “Clothing is not a vibe right now.” She begins to move to undress herself.

Kyohei jumps off the couch and pulls her clothes back on, “You can’t strip in the middle of the living room.” Seishi groans in response, puffing her bottom lip out as she pouts.

Her eyes widen in excitement as she jumps off the floor and points at him, “TRY ME” She yells before running away from him, stripping herself clumsily as she does, an excited giggle leaves her as he chases after her. As she throws her pants across the room Kyohei catches her around the waist even as she laughs and struggles to get away, letting out slurred ‘no’s’ as she tries to get away.

After Izaya laid Toshiko down, he hears a loud commotion coming from the living room. Opening the door out of curiosity, “What’s going on-” His eyes stare in shock at Kyohei and Seishi wrestling each other clothes in hand, “Well I didn’t mean to interrupt the fun time in the living room~”

Seishi whines loudly as Kyohei picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder, “I think it’s time for bed.” Seishi whines again and waves at Izaya with a frown.

“Goodnight Izaya.” She mumbles as Kyohei enters her room and closes the door.

Izaya chuckles at the couple going back into the room, a smug grin growing on his face for his fun little devious plan later.

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hikarry · 7 months

Note

How's the situation with your roommates? Still hell?

Bro-

Don't get me started

The landlord apparently talked to them, and they calmed down a bit. Finally my sink isn't full of dirty dishes! And I can study cause there's no unknown people in my house making noise! And there isn't a girl illegally living here!

BUT

Two days ago, one of them put her shit on my freezer shelf. Let me remind you I've lived here for 5 years. I've had that bloody shelf for 5 years.

I was in a "short fuse" day, so I took the shit out and put them on the corner

I texted the group chat to ask who it was, and one of them answered. "If I knew it was your shelf, I would have no put it there" - using the formal "you" in a mocking way. I started boiling but stayed polite and asked her to ask me before putting her stuff randomly on my shelf. And she said, "You have such a nice personality :) You are so nice :)" - ironic with passive aggressive emoji, and I confess I may or may not have lost my cool. That bitch does not know me to attack me unprompted like that. So I said "I'm sure my personality is as good as yours then :)" cause two can play that stupid game and I'm petty as fuck when I want to be

The only thing I asked her was to communicate. I don't have a problem sharing my space as long as people communicate with me. But this bitch-

She called me arrogant! Because I asked her to ask me for permission before she put shit on my shelf!

One of the things was a big ass ice cream and she went all passive aggressive "You can eat the ice cream if you want :)" and I should have been bloody sarcastic and actually accept the bloody ice cream so she would eat shit but I was already seeing red so I said "you are really asking me to ask you to put the fucking ice cream up your fucking arse, aren't you? :) the only thing I'm fucking asking is for communication!"

She called me egotistical! Me! As if she isn't the one still living like she lives by herself with her bestie in a house where 5 other people live!

Then her bestie from hell came to the rescue like "aw my poor lil meow meow you can put your stuff on my shelf <3 cause spencer is a cunt and I'm so so nice <3 btw, people, the kitchen floor was disgusting on Sunday so I had to clean it. Please pay attention to that. Also, the trash is always full so you should take it out! And there was hair in the bathroom again! Please keep stuff clean for the other people to use"

This bitch-

The fucking gal-

Let's go by parts

One of my friends cleaned the kitchen floor on Friday. I watched it. The evil twins are the only ones that stay over the weekend so if the bloody floor was dirty as fuck, they were the ones doing it

I barely use the kitchen at all because I don't really eat cooked meals - only once in a blue moon. I only use it to make my coffee, pretty much. My two friends are the same. One brings food from home and the other buys pre made food in the supermarket so the only ones using the bloody kitchen is them! And the only thing they do is pull the bag up a lil in the basket instead of taking it out! Me and my friends are always the one taking it out even tho we don't even use it!!

My friend and I use that bathroom. They only use it for the toilet cause theirs is broken. The only time I saw that bathroom with hair was when we were sharing the bathroom with them full time. There was long curly hair everywhere! And, I don't know if you've noticed, but my hair is short and blue, so it's VERY recognizable. Yet, ya don't see a single strand there. Why? Cause I clean after my bloody self! We literally got the shower clogged 3 fucking times in 2 months because of their hairs! Their shower is CURRENTLY clogged waiting for a plumber! My friend and I keep that bathroom pristine, as we should. We never saw a single hair there since they got their own bathroom, and she has the gal to lie? I asked for a pic of the hair. She said next time she would take it. I'm still waiting

I swear to Jesus i will lose my mind with these children! I've lived with many people through the years and never in my life have I lived with such egotistical maniacs! I won't move out, but, since I'm the bitch of the house to them anyway, I will make their lives a fucking living hell until they move the fuck out. I have no problem whatsoever in being the bad guy

Sorry for the rant but ugh

I had to let this out

Hope your question was answered

(Edit cause I forgot the obligatory David Tennant)

#asks #anon #rommates from hell

0 notes

vigsilantes · 2 years

Text

nowhere to hide (adrian chase x reader)

Pairing: Adrian Chase / Vigilante x GN Reader Summary: You’re unable to fight due to a broken wrist from a previous mission so while patrolling Evergreen with Adrian one night, you get to sit back and watch as Vigilante takes control. Word Count: 2k A/N: someone asked if i could show more of vigilante in action so this is one of my ideas, but i have a lot more! hope you enjoy! Tags: Established Relationship, Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Post-Canon, Idiots in Love, Comfort, Fights, Injury, Light Angst Warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, knives, injury, killing

~masterlist~ | >>>(read on ao3)<<<

Most of the time, missions go as they should and it’s usually easy peasy lemon squeezy. But that was most of the time. The last mission you and the team went on had turned a bit south and you guys got a tad fucked up. All of the 11th Street Kids needed a few rest days after this one, as the superhuman assholes beat the shit out of everyone before you managed to kill them. Adrian escaped with some gnarly cuts and bruises, and you unluckily made it out with a broken wrist, which sucked. Emilia gave the team the rest of the week off for some much-needed rest and rejuvenation. Getting home that night felt like heaven on earth, and you both slept like rocks. It was blissful staying in for a whole entire day, spending the day in bed doing nothing but relaxing and watching movies with Adrian, but you both got bored quickly, and you figured you were in good enough shape to go out patrolling. The next night, you both threw on your suits, you had to leave one glove off because of your cast, and went out for the night. The streets were quiet, the moon was bright, and the air was crisp – it was perfect weather to patrol in.

“Hey babe, if a fight breaks out, or when, because we both know we’ll find someone doing something sketchy, but when it happens, stay back and let me handle it, I don’t want you hurting your wrist, okay?” Adrian nicely demanded, he's so protective of you, you love it. You didn’t really feel up to fighting with your wrist out of commission, so you shook your head in agreement, completely fine with that decision.

“Alrighty! I’ll let you have all the fun tonight, V,” you replied, winking through your visor, he nodded. Usually while on patrol, you two just walk around Evergreen and try to find people doing illegal things, and most of the time it’s peaceful, other than the fights, but you love just aimlessly walking through the town with Adrian and chatting about whatever is on your mind.

“Maybe we could go to that used record store tomorrow? We finally have a day off and some free time, and they always have a bunch of stuff there, we always score when we go... and I need new records for that crate I just bought!” Adrian enthusiastically asked, you smiled under your mask, he loves adding to his record collection.

“That is a rad idea, I’m in, Vig, it’ll be funnnn! And we could go to that coffee place next door too, we can make it a cute little morning date!” you joyfully add, stoked about having time off to do some actual cute relationship-esque stuff with Adrian. He shook his head, and you could almost hear him smile under his mask.

“O.M.G. yes! That place makes such good donuts too, you’re so smart for thinking of it! Oh wait and the record store also has comic books too! It’s a win-win, I am psyched, hun!” he pumped his fist from excitement as you walked. You turned down a long, familiar street that you always somehow manage to find criminals on, and began walking. “Last time we were there I got that massive chocolate donut, I think I’m gonna have to get th-” Adrian instantly went silent and stopped in his tracks, he saw something. “Nine o’clock… I see a knife!” he whisper-yelled, angry from the sight he was looking at. When you spotted what he saw, rage grew in you, in an alley you saw two young women held at knife point by a group of large men, with ski masks over their faces. One woman was held with a knife to her throat, it was practically cutting her, Adrian tensed up and got out his knife. “Let me handle this…” he firmly stated with his voice deep – he was Vigilante now.

“Got it,” you replied as you both slinked over to the alleyway, you let Vigilante walk a bit ahead of you.

“Now, this is not gonna fly,” Vig deeply said, twirling his knife in his hand, the men quickly turned to him and looked spooked to see him standing before them. You looked over at the two women and their faces grew relieved as they appeared thankful to see you both. “Let them both go. Now,” he grumbled, you also took out your knife, ready to jump in if he needed you, though you knew that wouldn’t be likely.

“These costumed freaks think we’re gonna just leave?” one man scoffed, but another one widened his eyes as he looked at Vig.

“Nah, we shouldn’t fuck with them,” another man whispered, he was clearly aware of you and Vigilante’s reputation, and he probably knew well enough how this would end. The women wiggled, trying to get free.

“Listen to him and you dumb fucks will leave with only a few broken bones,” Vigilante growled, the man who knew of you let go of the woman he was holding and started backing away. The other five men didn’t budge, a few even had the balls to laugh, Vigilante straightened himself up, getting prepared to annihilate them. That one smart man ran away, and you and Vig let him, he wasn’t worth it. Vigilante got his a few more knives from his suit and started approaching them, he was focused on them, ready to take them out and save the women. All you were doing was watching, as you knew it would be a sight to see. One woman was able to get free with that one man leaving, and you gestured for her to come to you, she ran past Vig and stood next to you.

“You okay?” you asked, she nodded, tears streaming down her face. You protectively outstretch your arm prompting her to get behind you and stood in front of her, you then looked back at Vigilante. He swiftly dashed to the men, just feet away from them, and the men that weren't holding the other woman moved forward, ready to fight. He once again twirled his knives as he scanned the men deciding who would be his first victims. He looked terrifying, if you were on the receiving end of this you would be scared shitless as he decided your fate. Once he quickly decided, Vig effortlessly threw two knives into two different men’s heads instantly killing them, their bodies dropped to the ground with a loud thud. The butterflies had gotten you both used to taking headshots, so you both kinda just made a habit of it now, which was quite unfortunate for your victims. Three men were left, and they recklessly let go of the other woman who hastily ran over to you and her friend, nearly tripping over her own feet. She was also crying as they hugged, you were glad they were uninjured, and you knew Adrian was thankful too.

“Go,” you sternly say as you tipped your head to them. They both nodded.

“Thank you!” one of them eagerly yelled as they ran, hand in hand. After you saw that they made it a safe distance away, you turned back to Vigilante, who was on fire. One more body laid on the ground, and you slowly walked over to Vig so you could get a better view of the fight.

The two men were now backing away from him as he hunched over, reaching for a knife that was left in their friend’s head. They kept backing away, but they were in an alley and their backs eventually hit the fence, they had nowhere to hide. One of them raised up the tacky knife they were holding, it looked like a kitchen knife, Vig let out a menacing chuckle when he saw, then threw his knife in that man’s stomach. The man dropped, and the other man thought that was an opportunity to flee, he was wrong. Vigilante instantly noticed he tried running, and took out his gun, after taking a second to decide where to shoot him, he aimed for the man’s knee, and he toppled to the ground, groaning in pain. Vig didn’t want to use his gun too much, it was loud, so he looked over to you at the knife you were holding, you carefully tossed it to him, and he caught the handle, it landed perfectly in his hand. He leisurely walked over to the man he just shot and slit his throat, blood splattering all over his suit. That left the man with the knife in his stomach, who was begging Vig not to kill him.

“Come on man, I-” he started as Vig walked over to him, he then threw your knife into his head, he slumped over. Vig let out a deep breath and began collecting his knives, you followed suit and pulled out one knife from a criminal’s head.

"Those women said thank you when they left btw," you assured him, he nodded. “That was fuckin’ awesome, V,” you energetically tell him, he snickered, and collected your knife. He then padded over to you, wiped the blood off your knife with his glove, and handed it to you.

“Psshhh, it was nothing, really,” he modestly says, his voice returning to his normal tone. You two briskly scurry away from the crime scene you just created, not wanting to be seen by anyone. Once you got far enough away, you slowed down, and began comfortable walking, Adrian let out a deep huff.

“They were so scared of you, it was kinda… funny,” you admit, breaking the silence, he giggled, you could tell he had calmed down from the fight, he turned to face you.

“They totally were,” he said in between laughs, “Oh and thanks for the knife, came in handy,” he winked, you could tell he was smiling by the way his eyes wrinkled under his mask. “Did you enjoy the show?” he queried with his voice getting higher, you nodded.

“Fuck yeah I did, wish I had some popcorn!” you chuckle, and he skipped while you were walking, then took your good hand in his. You smile under your mask as you both walk down the empty street. “It was totally hot to see you absolutely destroy those assholes,” you admit to him, because seeing how fierce he gets as Vigilante is hot. He gasped.

“Really?” he softly questioned, you nodded, his eyes widened, and you could see the whites of his eyes through his visor.

“So hot," you seductively nod your head, not breaking eye contact. You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he wanted you, like right now.

“I liked knowing I had an audience,” he whispered as he stepped in close to you, “I thought you watching me was hot,” you snorted, of course he found you doing literally nothing hot. He then looked over your shoulder and found another alley, empty, and secluded from the street. He took your good hand and led you to it in a rush, desperate to get his hands on you. Once you got there, he pinned you against the building, your bodies colliding as he lifted up both of your masks enough for your mouths and noses to be free. He sloppily pressed his lips to yours and you could feel how he ached for you. You kiss him again, and felt fire run through you. You briefly inch away from him, but you were still close enough to feel his breath on your face.

“I’m just wondering how you found me just standing there hot, I wasn't doing jack shit,” you admit, he peered down at you through his visor.

“You’re always hot, babe,” he breathed, you bit your lip, “and please you always look so fucking sexy in your suit, like… as soon as you put it on I always wanna rip it off of you,” he muttered, you then pressed your lips to his and heat ran through both of your bodies, there was something about making out in your suits that somehow made it a thousand times hotter, and you couldn't get enough of him.

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante x reader #freddie stroma #peacemaker #adrian chase x you #adrian chase x gender neutral reader #adrian chase fic #peacemaker hbo #vigilante x you #cross posted on ao3

72 notes · View notes

babyboibucky · 4 years

Text

Salt, Sugar and Viruses

Pairing: Office!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’ve been secretly making coffee for Bucky at the office.

Word Count: 1,962

Warnings: Two idiots just doing idiot things

A/N: This was done in a haste so I kinda hate it lol but I can’t get this story out of my head and thanks to @bitchassbucky for pushing me to write a full fic of this 🥰 luv u 🥺

MAIN MASTERLIST

"You have a crush on Barnes' grumpy ass?!" Sam choked out.

You angrily hushed him and frantically looked around the pantry to make sure that your secret was still safe. Fortunately, only you, Sam and Nat were inside having your respective afternoon breaks.

"What? He's nice. And cute." you told Sam as you stirred your coffee, smiling to yourself at the thought of your office crush, Bucky.

"How'd you even meet him, he works all the way at the IT department." Sam asked.

Nat snorted recalling the encounters she witnessed for the past few months. Some of which were unintentional but most of them? You had carefully planned out just so you could come up with an excuse to request for Bucky's assistance.

"She might have gotten viruses in her computer once...or twice. Or thrice." Nat teased.

The first time you met Bucky was when most of your files suddenly got corrupted. It was hella embarrassing because you didn't know shit about how computers worked and well, you've been illegally downloading torrents since the office's internet connection was a gift from the internet gods. Without a doubt, your computer was a nest for viruses.

Bucky showed up in your floor that morning and you almost sunk into your seat from shame. You'd heard the IT Department complain about everybody else in the office messing up their computer systems. When you turned around, Bucky greeted you with a charming smile and soft hello. You could still remember how he felt when he stayed behind you as you sat on your chair, bending over to take your mouse in his hand.

God, he smelled so good you almost turned your head to nuzzle your face into his neck.

He was very soft-spoken you realized; Bucky was kind enough to walk you through the process and to be honest, you couldn't recall a damn thing he said. Something about firewalls? And shields? Whatever, you didn't really listen. You just stared at Bucky as he explained everything, solving your problem in less than fifteen minutes.

Since then, your crush for Bucky grew bigger. You'd entered the elevator together a couple of times, shared small conversations that made your heart flutter. When those little moments didn't seem enough, you started your devious plan to fuck up your computer a bit. By the third time Bucky fixed your computer, he was already comfortable enough to tease you for being a "virus magnet".

"Hello? Young lady, come back to earth." Sam snapped his finger right in front of your face, interrupting your thoughts.

You clicked your tongue at him and swatted his hand away. "If you ever tell this to anyone, Wilson. You are dead." you warned, poinitng a finger at him.

Sam rolled his eyes, "It's so unfair how he's kind to you. Last time I requested for his assistance he got all smug and grumpy at me." he complained.

Nat shook her head in amusment, "That's because you've been downloading porn. You know the IT department can access our browser histories, right?"

You choked on your coffe, "WHAT?!"

Nat narrowed her eyes at you, "You been up to no good for you to react like that?"

You faceplamed, "I've been stalking his Facebook account."

Sam chortled, "What are you, in high school? Jesus, calm down. You're gonna be fine. Why don't you just tell him you like him?"

You made a face, "I'm not Nat to have the guts to do that."

Nat hummed, bringing her mug to the sink to wash it. "Why don't you start by making him coffee?"

"I don't know how he likes his coffee."

You received a pointed look from both your friends. You groaned in defeat, "Okay, fine. I know how Bucky likes his coffee."

Nat smirked, "Stalker."

Bucky always arrived in the office half an hour before nine in the morning. This gives him time to settle into his cubicle, buy a sandwich at the stall downstairs and to make himself a cup of coffee. It was his daily routine and upon going back to his desk after buying his breakfast sandwich, Bucky was surprised to see a cup of newly brewed coffee on his desk.

He looked around but there were no signs of anyone. There wasn't even a note of some sort. Carefully, he brought the cup to his face and inhaled its scent. Shrugging, he took a tiny sip.

"How's the little secret admirer doing?" Nat asked, grabbing a chair and sitting down beside you.

You deadpanned, "I've been leaving him his coffee for an entire week now and nothing's happened yet."

Nat frowned, "Are you kidding me? Why would you expect for something to happen when you haven't been leaving any clues?" she said.

"I'm shy, okay?! Maybe I should hide somewhere, check for his reaction. See whether I have a chance." you shrugged.

It was stupid of you to leave the coffee on Bucky's desk. You never stayed to wait for him. You just left it there without a note or anything that would even give him a clue about you and your little crush on him. You knew the reason why, of course. You were afraid of rejection. Sometimes, you'd feel like you have a chance with him since he was always so kind and warm to you. Not to mention, everyone in the office knows him to be grumpy but around you, he was totally the opposite of that.

But then again, maybe he was just nice to you because you were nice to him too.

One morning after leaving Bucky his coffee, you finally decided to leave him a note. You ran back to your cubicle to get a post-it and a pen. Before you could even walk around your desk, you spotted Bucky headed over to the pantry, the cup of coffee in his hand.

"Fuck, okay. Maybe I should just directly ask him out?" you thought to yourself.

You quickly followed Bucky into the pantry and almost whined when you saw that Sam was inside as well. You widened your eyes at him, signalling for him to leave but Sam was preoccupied on observing Bucky who seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Rough morning?" Sam just had to ask as you awkwardly stood by the doorway, finding the right timing to butt in.

Bucky's forehead creased as he let out a huff, "Rough weeks, actually." he answered.

You opened your mouth to say something comforting, wanting to lift Bucky's spirits up but he turned around and glanced at you and then back to Sam.

"Does anyone hate me in this office?" Bucky asked.

You and Sam exchanged looks, both of utter confusion before shaking your heads in unison. "Why'd you ask?" Sam asked.

Bucky lifted the cup of coffee that you made, "Someone's been making me coffee." he stated.

You cleared your throat, "...is it bad?" you asked.

Bucky made a face, "Terrible actually."

Ouch.

"I mean, the first time I saw it I was actually flattered. And then I took a sip and it's just...salty." Bucky said, pouring the coffee into the sink before throwing it into the bin.

Sam's head snapped towards your direction, his face almost red from biting back a laugh. Your face heated up at the realization that you've been putting salt into Bucky's coffee instead of sugar. All this time. You wanted to disappear right then and there. And Sam had to be the one to witness your huge failure.

"I thought it was a mistake since the next day, there was another coffee on my desk. I tried it out and it's still salty. It lasted a week, you guys. And I was dumb enough to keep on tasting it in hopes that it might have been a genuine mistake. But now I'm starting to think that someone hates me that much to fuck my coffee up." Bucky explained, face scrunched up into a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

Sam failed to stifle his laughter and exploded, "Funniest shit I've ever heard." he told Bucky before standing up and making his way to the door where you stood.

Your face was red and if the salt and sugar mishap was already humiliating enough, Sam decided to make things even worse for you.

"You really need to check the labels before pouring shit into his coffee." and with that, Sam gave your shoulder a squeeze before leaving the pantry.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself. When you opened them, Bucky was staring at you with an expression you couldn't paint.

"Did you...were you the one leaving me coffee?" he asked.

You secretly pinched yourself in the arm to check whether you were just dreaming. Fuck, you hoped you were having a nightmare but the pain that you felt made it clear that you totally fucked up.

You nodded in embarrassment.

"You hate me that much?" Bucky asked in disbelief, as if he was offended that out of all people, it had to be you.

You quickly shook your head, "No, God no! I just...it's because I..." you stammered, trying to find the courage to spit out the words you've been dying to tell Bucky.

Bucky tilted his head, "Because you...?" he urged.

Your hands balled into fists as you let out another deep breath. Bucky probably hates you right now, but whatever. This was your only chance and to hell, you were going to confess.

"Because I like you?"

You didn't think that Bucky's confused look could even turn more...well, confused. But he was looking at you incredulously as though you've grown a second head, or a third head.

"You like me so you decided to put salt in my coffee?" he asked again.

You honestly didn't know who sounded even more stupid now, you or Bucky. Because if he still didn't understand what was going on, he was dense as fuck.

"No!" you explained. "I wanted to make you a decent cup of coffee but I guess I was too careless and didn't realize that I've been putting in salt instead of sugar." you said.

Bucky didn't say anything after that. He just stared at you, but he didn't seem confused anymore. If any, he looked like he was processing the entire situation.

"You like me." he stated again.

Will your embarrassment ever end?!

"Yes, Bucky. And I messed up my chance and you know what? I'm just going to show myself out and leave you alone." you told him and forced a fake grin before attempting to walk out.

A hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back into the pantry. This time, Bucky was the one who looked embarrassed.

"I might have...done something pretty stupid too." he said, avoiding your gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You eyed him suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

"I uhh...I did something to your computer...the day before you requested for my assistance for the first time." Bucky admitted shyly.

It was your turn to get muddled at Bucky's confession. "But why?" you asked.

Bucky offered a shy smile, "Because I've been seeing you around the building and thought you were cute."

And then everything clicked. It was a light bulb moment for the both of you.

"Oh. Ohhh okay. I see." you said before suddenly breaking into laughter.

Bucky joined you and scratched his head, "I guess we're both idiots." he said, placing his hands inside his pockets as he stared at you.

"This went...way more interesting than I thought." you said with a nod.

There was a pause before you decided to speak up, "So, do you want coffee?"

Bucky beamed at you as he nodded, "As long as you'll use sugar this time."

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff. and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother. if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff. Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt. Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it. Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll. “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence. “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned. Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you. “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well. The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that. Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed. “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard. It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this. She could do better than him anyways! But she didn’t care about that, only money and status. You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh. You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life. You were just numb.

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer. It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his. You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table. He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know. Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway. You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly. Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink. Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe. There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled. “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’. This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity. Almost.

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned. “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!”

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face. It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over. You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room. That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death. So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions. You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either. And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more. You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it. Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot. You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else. You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible. You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything. Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently. The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen. She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though. You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one. At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along. Friday night was different, though. This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning. That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it. It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside. You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow. It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms. He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face. You didn’t let it get this far just to give up. You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey. You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak. “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could. You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me. I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once. All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you! You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled. It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed. It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before. He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked. You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits. It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was. You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet. You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly. You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain. But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward. Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused. You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him. He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed. “You are in dire need of a punishment. You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal. “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh? Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers. “This fuckin’ mouth. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? Come on baby, open up. I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip. You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see? You’re so wet for it,” he purred. You tried to speak but words abandoned you.

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed. His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth. He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting. You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy. “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock. Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe. His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough. You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait? I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled. “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring. Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra. Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands.

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside. “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor. A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you. You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly. “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason. You gonna be good for me now?”

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs. “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind. You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more. Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority. “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart? Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?” He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands. A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers. They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off. You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor. “I can smell how much you want it.” He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue. “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised. You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs. You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come. And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily. It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now. Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment. Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you.

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth. “Beg me. To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed. It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true. And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother. He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not. At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you. Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it? Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher. Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer. He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright. He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned. “Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face. “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed. You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl? Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed. “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop. Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day). He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out. He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked. It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip. He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt. “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?”

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath. You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer. “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

#lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #dark fic

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Headcanons for being a feral Avenger

Avengers x reader

warnings: guns and death mention (but no one dies dw)

a/n: s/o to @emcon-imagines for the idea since we needed smth OPPOSITE of the norm. also i find it really funny that i got a request for a feral xmen hc while i was writing this

prompt:

you were just.....too much for the team to handle

and that was saying something considering you were THE AVENGERS

“guys, guys, guys, oh my god, look what matt damon just posted” -you

“since when do you care about matt damon?” -literally any avenger

“i dont” -you

absolutely no idea when to quit

so there’s never a dull moment

“who is screaming ‘i fucking knew it?’ some of us are trying to work” -tony

“i think you know” -nat

“follow up question: why?” -tony

“i believe they are watching ‘the mandalorian’” -wanda

“WITHOUT ME??? SON OF A—” -tony

not being allowed to have coffee

or really any kind of caffine but

“sowhatimtryingtosayisshieldwasconnectedtohydraandhydraisdefinitelyconnectedtotheilluminatisowereweapartoftheilluminati?” -you

“...vis? did you give y/n coffee?” -wanda

“i wasn’t aware that it had this effect on them” -vision

accidentally punching a hole in the wall

putting a picture of the team over it

“oh, that’s nice...oh, nevermind” -sam

yes, you announce yourself every time you enter the room

*arms raised* “hello all, it is i, your favorite avenger” -you

“actually my favorite avenger is natasha” -clint

“okay, then it is i, that bitch” -you

“im going to duct tape your mouth shut” -tony

fun fact tony cracked peter’s formula for web fluids just so he could web your mouth shut

*mmph. mmmmph. MMMMMMPH* -you

“ah, finally. peace and quiet” -tony

being found asleep (or just lying down) in some odd positions and locations

the quinjet, on the helipad, in natasha’s room, on the kitchen floor, under the couch cushions, and more

*finding you lying on the kitchen floor* “you alive down there?” -tony *nudging you w his foot*

“hnnnnnn” -you

“cool” -tony

steve has tackled you on the battlefield several times. why, you ask?

“dont go chasin’ waterfalllls stick to the rivers and the lakes that youre used toooo...erbaneanananeeneedododoo...” -you

“y/n, watch out!” -steve

you can put the rest together

also just being the worst on the comms

“clint u gotta pull ur pants up” “work it, wanda!!!” “anyone else smell hamburgers?? hey peter, why don’t you get me a combo?” “look guys! i got one of their weapons! wonder how it works—NEVERMIND” “woah, holy shit, nat. can you teach me how to do that???” -all you, babey

“i don’t remember hitting ‘play’ on the director’s commentary of this mission” -natasha (courtesy of the brilliant @emcon-imagines)

“tony?” -rhodey

“yep, turning off their comms now. they’ll manage without us” -tony

“you’re the genius, why don’t you develop a real-life mute button for them?” -rhodey

“yeah, let me just turn y/n into a cyborg first. thanks for the input” -tony, sarcastically

meanwhile...

“GUYS??? GUYS???? ARE YOU ALL DEAD??? IM THE ONLY ONE LEFT???? this is not how i imagined this happening. maybe i can get a bigger room at the compound. hmph.” -you

whipping a random ass chain around??? where did you get that???

flagging down rhodey

*lands* “what?” -rhodey

“did everyone die?” -you

“no” -rhodey

“why cant i hear them on comms?” -you

“see you later” -rhodey, flying away

sleepless nights tbh

why? why. whywhywhywhy why

was it nightmares? was it hunger? straight up restlessness? wouldnt you like to know

“do i smell popcorn?” -nat to wanda in the dead of night

you had two ENTIRE boxes of popcorn bags out on the counter

“maybe you should just knock them the fuck out, wanda” -natasha (also a product of @emcon-imagines’ genius)

“no!!! movie night!!!” -you, moments before falling into nat’s arms

ur not only feral.....ur also a good friend

“y/n, i really need your help” -peter

“shoot. wait—is it illegal? i’ll do it if it’s illegal” -you

“?? no, no, i just need you to schedule my dentist appointment. my aunt says she won’t do it for me anymore” -peter

*gasp* “can i make up my own character??” -you

you were actually a fan favorite

at times

*in front of news cameras* “hey cool fact about captain america: he can lift his legs behind his head”

social media legend

wintersoldierthirstpage: “can you tell us if bucky’s metal arm vibrates”

y/n_l/n: “can neither confirm nor deny. yes.”

you had a tiktok that was half trends/dances and half memeing serious situations

*pointing camera at secretary ross* “dude’s really trying to take away our rights and shit” *phone smacked out of hand by rhodey*

*all the avengers arguing with “say so” being played over it*

walking into the room covered in string lights

burning ur cookies!!!!

taking clints bow and arrows for “practice”

bad decisions all around

“oh no” -you, rushing out of your room

“what? what’s ‘oh no’” -sam

“my toilet is on fire” -you

“are—are you joking?” -sam

“where’s the fire extinguisher.” -you, VERY CALM

“y/n???? Y/N???? WHY ARENT THE ALARMS GOING OFF?? THE SPRINKLERS?? THERES SMOKE COMING OUT OF YOUR ROOM” -sam

“fire alarms are a myth” -you

“NO??????”

they act like they cant stand you but deep down, you make their lives sm more interesting and they don’t know what they’d do without you. there isn’t always someone trying to achieve world domination.

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich //

#marvel #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #tony stark imagine #steve rogers imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #james rhodes imagine #sam wilson imagine #clint barton imagine #peter parker imagine

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gukyi · 4 years

Text

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur.

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks.

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all.

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode.

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments.

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did.

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself.

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half.

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you.

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off.

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything.

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds.

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you.

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated.

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly.

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly.

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you.

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years.

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost.

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about.

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless.

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together.

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest.

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you.

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement.

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows.

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click.

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why.

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair.

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems.

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you.

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship.

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it.

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio.

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic.

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since.

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have.

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in.

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once.

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this.

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right?

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins.

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing.

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention.

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind.

Another voice breaks you from your trance.

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide.

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes.

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to.

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you.

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you.

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you?

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence.

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them?

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met.

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor.

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook.

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you.

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief.

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it.

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it.

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory.

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away.

You wonder what he sees.

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door.

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left.

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind.

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet.

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side.

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet.

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive.

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them.

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted.

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing.

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter.

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash.

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them.

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him.

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card.

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black.

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body.

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is.

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you.

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown.

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back.

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further.

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you.

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him.

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet.

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment.

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester.

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there.

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that.

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk.

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room.

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well.

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen.

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written.

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page…

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling.

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom.

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else.

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head.

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease.

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart.

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you.

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving.

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless.

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him.

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain.

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing.

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure.

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth.

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about.

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out.

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process.

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world.

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious.

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side.

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her.

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the love project #yes i am finishing this at 6am on the day its meant to be posted... MIND UR OWN BUSINESS

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Bernard Figures It Out

Was reading through all the comments on @frostbittenbucky's post and all I could think of was that it was Bernard talking to Tim. Then I got to thinking...

"I've connected the two dots."

"You didn't connect shit."

"I've connected them."

Bernard figures out Tim's a superhero... sort of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim fidgetted nervously as he waited on the front porch of his boyfriend’s house. Bernard had sounded so serious when he’d called during Tim’s lunch to ask him to come over after work so they could talk about something.

Which Tim had done, after spending an entire board meeting just going over the past week trying to figure out what he’d done.

The only thing he could think of was that he’d ducked out halfway through their lunch date on Wednesday to give Duke some backup, but Bernard had seemed understanding when Tim explained there was an emergency at GRC Labs. It couldn’t have been a tipping point, either, since Tim had managed to only flake on three other dates over the past few months they’d been dating. Kate had been happy to cover for him as often as she could “out of queer solidarity” when she found out Tim was dating a boy for the first time and Tim had managed to trick Bruce into covering a few actual Wayne Enterprises emergencies for him when they came up.

There had to be a reason Bernard was breaking up with him, though. Had he missed something? He definitely wasn’t forgetting an important day. He was good with days and Tam was even better, so she would have reminded him on the off chance that he had forgotten.

What was he missing?

Bernard was smiling when he opened the door, but there was a nervous energy to it that had Tim’s stomach sinking. “Hey, Tim.”

“Hey.” Tim gave his own nervous smile then slipped inside.

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Tim frowned when Bernard grabbed a manila folder off the coffee table. Crud, had he screwed up enough that Bernard had had to make a list? He knew he was new to dating a guy, but he hadn’t thought he’d done that bad. He’d really been trying, especially with how his and Stephanie’s relationship had fallen apart at the end. “What -”

“Just let me speak, Tim,” Bernard said, waiting for Tim’s nod. “Okay, so you know Clark Kent, right?”

Tim blinked as Bernard opened the folder to show a picture of Clark. It looked like one of the employee pictures from the Planet’s website, with his dorky “I’m just a humble country boy” smile and the golden globe from their roof photoshopped in as the background. “Uh, yeah? I think so. He works for the Daily Planet, right? I think he’s worked at a few of Bruce’s events. Not a lot of outside reporters are willing to come to Gotham.”

“Exactly!” Bernard said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tim.

“What?”

He pulled out the picture to show the next page was an article titled, “DAILY PLANET REPORTER… BATMAN!?”

A wave of relief washed over Tim and he placed his face in his hands. “Were you up all night on the hero conspiracy boards again?”

“No. I mean, I found this on a board and was up all night thinking about it, but I found it reasonably early.”

“One in the morning isn’t reasonable, Bernard.”

“Says the guy who’s always wide awake when I call to infodump.”

“Touché.” Tim leaned against Bernard and gave him a smile. “So tell me, why is some reporter from Metropolis from all places Batman.”

“First of all, living in Metropolis is the perfect cover. Everyone assumes Batman would live in Gotham, no one would consider he could be from anywhere else. Metropolis is outside the GMA, but close enough that the commute is still possible.”

“But it’s Metropolis.”

“And who would think Gotham’s Dark Knight lives in the sunshine capital? Plus, I hear he disappears a lot on the job. There’s gotta be a reason for it!”

Tim made a note to let Clark know he needs to cut back on the disappearing act some since people are catching on.

“And have you seen the guy? He is swol AF, babe.”

“Please don’t call me babe while you’re talking about how hot another guy is.” Especially Tim’s honorary uncle.

“You know I prefer twinks.”

“BERNARD!”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring Tim’s shout. “The guy is definitely hiding something! Besides, Kent is an investigative reporter. He’s gotta know a lot about cases and the underground and detective work.”

Not as much as he likes people to think, but more than he likes people to know Superman does, Tim mused. “But what about the other vigilantes?”

“Well, Kent has a cousin…” Bernard flipped through a folder and pulled out a picture of Kara. It looked like a screenshot of her interviewing Lena for CatCo. “She’s obviously the latest Batgirl. Look at her hair. And the first Batgirl and the current Batwoman were obviously Lois Lane, the red hair is just a wig. Did you see how she kicked butt at that last event she went to? She’s not as subtle as Kent. That means their son is the latest Robin. He’s exactly the right size.”

Oh, Damian better not hear about this, Tim cackled internally. His youngest brother hated being reminded that Jon was the same height as him despite their two years age difference. Damian definitely took after Talia when it came to body type, no matter what he said.

“And Kent also has a brother.” This time he pulled out a picture of Kon. The clone must have been caught by a reporter out shopping with Ma since he was carrying some paper bags and glaring at whoever was behind the camera. “At least, he’s supposedly Kent’s brother, but he was a teenager when he first showed up with the Kents. A lot of people think he’s actually Kent’s son, that Kent got a girl pregnant when they were teenagers and something happened to the mom so Kent had to take him in. Now the Kents are trying to hide it by saying the two are brothers.”

That was… scarily accurate actually. Especially given Luthor and Clark were close friends at the time that Kon would have theoretically been born.

“And that beef would explain why the younger Kent brother went all crime lord on Gotham for a while before reconnecting with the family.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Kent Jr.’s got the perfect build for Red Hood.”

Tim bit back a comment on how Kon was shorter than Jason by a good foot. Timothy Drake-Wayne should not know that. Add Jason to the list of people who can’t hear this theory.

“And then there’s this girl,” Bernard picked up a picture of Lois, Jon, and Natasha Irons walking down the street together. “No one’s sure exactly who she is, but she’s been spotted with the Kents a few times. I think the cover story is that she’s Jon’s babysitter.”

“And the actual story?”

“She’s Black Bat, obviously. That’s why she wears a mask that fully covers her face. She doesn’t want to stand out as the only African American Bat.”

“Isn’t Signal also Black?”

“Yeah, but he works in the daytime so he’s already a standout.”

“And who is Signal in this? And what about Nightwing and Red Robin?”

“Well, Nightwing’s just a Blüd who came to Gotham. He doesn’t count.”

Ouch. Sorry, Dick.

“And Red Robin is obviously an older Robin, the one who was Robin when we were kids. Kent wanted to keep him on, and I don’t blame him. As for Signal, he’s got the same backstory as all the other Robins Kent picked up, he just went the Signal route because he didn’t fit the usual Robin mold.”

“Because the female Robin fit the mold,” Tim snorted. Robin Mold, as if he and his brothers were even the same ethnicity. Or even had the same hair color. Jason dyes his hair, Dick’s is brown-black, Tim’s is pure black, and Damian’s is more a dark brown and it’s only getting lighter as he gets older.

“She didn’t, that’s the point. Kent tried to give breaking the Robin mold a chance by letting his cousin have a go at it, but he realized it just didn’t work so she went back to being Spoiler and he got a new Robin.”

Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Right, and where does he get the usual Robins? Please tell me you’re not back on the secret government orphanages theory.”

“No, no, no. Kent travels sometimes for his job, right? And a lot of the time he’s going to places that have been hit by disasters or major crimes. So he’ll take in some of the displaced children to train as his robins.”

Tim pressed his face back into his hands.

“You see it, right?”

Honestly, Tim was just wondering how his boyfriend could be so close, and yet so far off. “How would Kent even afford taking care of a bunch of secret -- possibly illegally acquired -- children without anyone noticing?”

“Simple. Bruce Wayne is funding him.”

“Bernard, I love you, but what the heck?” Tim blushed and looked up as he realized what he’d said, but Bernard didn’t seem to notice as he steamrolled ahead.

“It’d also explain how he can afford all the gear and how he’d be able to travel to Gotham or anywhere else Batman goes without anyone noticing. He probably has a secret Batplane or something.”

“Why would Bruce do that?”

“Because Wayne cares about Gotham, everyone knows that, and this way he can make sure someone’s taking care of the city without anyone putting two and two together.”

“And two plus two is?”

Bernard gave him a hard look. “I’m not stupid, Tim. Bruce Wayne is obviously Superman. His face is right there.”

Oh, the others are going to love this! Too bad I can’t tell Damian or Jason. Jason especially would have loved this. “Right. Bruce is Superman.”

“He is. Superman is known for being nice and Bruce Wayne’s basically all that’s keeping the city running at this point. That’s nice as hell.”

Oh my god.

“And Wayne does charity for the victims of cataclysms, doesn't he? I bet he first saves people from them as Superman and then builds them new homes for free.”

Oh my god! Why am I not recording this!?

“And the Wayne’s were rich enough to hide the fact they adopted an alien baby.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to tell me this is why Bruce’s parents got killed, you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”

“It’d make sense. There’re all sorts of unanswered questions about their deaths,” Bernard muttered under his breath, flipping through the folder. He pulled out another picture of Kara. This time she was in full Supergirl attire with a bus held overhead. “So if Wayne is Superman, then that’d mean your ex-girlfriend could be Supergirl. They look a lot alike and it’d explain how she got involved with you all.”

“Bernard, she has a human dad. You know, Cluemaster. The supervillain.”

“Yeah, her dad. But we don’t know anything about her mom!”

“Let me guess…”

Bernard pulled out a picture of Karen. She and Helena were suited up and talking to a group of cops, two goons held over each of Karen’s shoulders. “Her mom could be Power Girl! Some makeup and a wig and she could look just like Crystal Brown! And Damian Wayne is obviously the new Superboy! That’s why his background is such a mystery, right? He had to stay a secret until he could control his alien superpowers. That’s why he’s always so mean. It’s a cover since everyone knows Superboy is super sweet!”

Sure, when he’s not helping Damian pull pranks or using his adorable powers to put the blame on Kon and I. “No, Bernard. Damian and Steph are just very human hellspawn. And Bruce and Crystal are human too. I can’t believe you called me over here just to tell me you think Superman is both Batman’s sugar daddy and my adoptive dad.”

“Well, that’s not exactly why I called you over,” Bernard admitted, the nervous energy coming back. He grabbed Tim’s hands. “Tim -”

Tim’s stomach sank. “You are breaking up with me!”

“What? No! I don’t want to break up!”

“Why are you acting all nervous and serious then!?” Tim asked, pulling his hands away to throw them up in the air.

Bernard shook the folder. “Because I’m trying to tell you I figured out you’re Superboy!”

Tim’s brain blue-screened and his hands slowly dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know you’re Superboy. The older one, obviously. By the way, you and Damian really need to figure out separate names.”

Forget Jason and Damian, Kon can never find out about this. He’d never let me live it down. “Bernard, you called me a twink five minutes ago. Su-” Shoot, I can not risk getting Kon’s attention! “The older one might not be as big as Superman, but he’s not a twink.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the shapeshifting at work.”

“The what?”

“Obviously you Kryptonians can shapeshift. Why else would you look so much like humans?”

… Why do Kryptonians look so much like humans? Was there some - Wait, no! Break into the Fortress of Solitude for research later! Reassure your boyfriend that you’re not an alien now! “Bernard -”

“And that explains why your step-mom was so hot.”

“Gross.”

“She and your dad were actors hired by Luthor so you could have a normal life! But now Bruce has custody so he adopted you.”

“No.”

“That’s why you and your dad were so weird with each other when I met him.”

“We were weird because he’d just gotten out of a coma not long before to find that his wife was dead so he decided to actually be a dad for once in his life, but overcompensated and became a helicopter parent to a kid who was mostly on his own for his entire life!” Tim blurted out. “I am not an alien, Bernard!”

“Well, not technically since you were cloned from Superman on Earth.”

“Oh my god! You were just talking about Steph being Supergirl! Why would I date my dad’s cousin?”

Bernard blinked. “Supergirl and Superman are cousins?”

Right, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know that. “I thought they’d said something like that before, yeah. Are people seriously saying I’m Superboy on the internet?”

“NO! No, I swear I would have led with that if I thought your identity was compromised. A few people have mentioned Wayne and Damian, but not you or Steph or Jason.”

“Wh-Jason!? You think Jason was an alien too!”

“No, not exactly, but a few times when I’ve visited I swear I’ve seen a guy in the manor who looks like Jason. It’s just been out of the corner of my eye and he’s gone whenever I look so I’ve always thought it was just Dick or Bruce or some picture of Jason that my mind was playing tricks with, but it makes sense now that I know Wayne is Superman. He must have been able to heal Jason with alien tech, but couldn’t say anything because that would give away that he’s Superman.”

Damn it Jason! And damn it Bernard! I’m dating the smartest moron in the world! “Bruce did not bring Jason back with alien technology and none of us are aliens!”

“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anyone.”

Tim grabbed Bernard by the jacket and pulled him into a kiss. When he started to feel lightheaded, he pulled back, “Could someone whose skin is as solid as stone kiss like that?”

Bernard blinked dazedly at him for a moment. “How do you know what Superboy’s skin feels like?”

Tim screamed internally. “He’s saved me from a kidnapping before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can get you the police report if you want.”

“Huh… And the others?”

“Not Supers. I can stab Damian the next time we’re at the manor if that’ll prove none of us are aliens.” He’d rather stab Jason, but that would probably only confirm to Bernard that Bruce used alien technology to bring him back.

“You probably shouldn’t stab your brother if he isn’t an alien.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I won’t stab him anywhere deadly.”

“That’s not the point,” Bernard said slowly.

“He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“So do you believe I’m not an alien now?” Tim huffed, letting go of Bernard’s jacket.

The blond’s eyes dipped down to Tim’s lips. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tim said, but he kissed him anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, but I still say Clark Kent is definitely Batman.”

“Sure, Bernard.”

#Tim Drake #robin #red robin #bernard dowd #timber #fanfiction

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raibebe · 4 years

Text

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?” “Nope.” “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.) “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again. You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now… “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.” You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe. “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless. “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

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