#stared at this so long i hate it REAL bad but i spent too long on it to not post it

[starspilli]

late nights

(pls click for better quality!)

[sugusearrings]

( ' summertime sadness ' ) oh my god, i feel it in the air telephone wires above are sizzlin' like a snare honey, i'm on fire, i feel it everywhere nothing scares me anymore. kiss me hard before you go summertime sadness i just wanted you to know, that, baby, you the best.

— summary: it's been a hard summer for suguru geto to adjust and deal with his emotions. while his best friend satoru gojo has been on a lot of solo missions lately, he's been spending a lot of time with you (fem!reader). — genre: smut ending with fluff — playing: summertime sadness by lana del rey — note(s): this is my first writing smut in a real long time. it won't be my last but i'm sorry if it wasn't spicy enough. i'm kind of rusty i sorry :( hints of virginity lost but not necessarily. — word count: 3k

— warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving ), missionary, doggy, mating press, cumshot, squirting, and finger sucking

Maybe it was the heat wave.

Maybe it was the curse he digested not too long ago.

But Suguru was throwing up more than he usually does.

His eyes closed tightly as he felt everything come rushing out of his mouth to pour into the toilet bowl. Even when there was nothing left in his stomach to puke, his body kept going.

But you were behind him holding onto his dark silky locks so they wouldn’t get in the way or inside of the murky water. Despite him being in the middle of throwing up his insides, he was embarrassed to do this in front of you.

“It’s okay, Sugu..” you reassured him like you knew what he was thinking of. You rubbed his back gently with your free hand. His eyes glanced over his shoulder to you, he saw the small smile on your lips. He looked over back to the toilet seeing everything he’s eaten today. Maybe even yesterday too.

When he was finished, you reached over to flush it down. You went to get him a bottle of water while he washed his face. His face was flushed and hot. His throat was aching along with his stomach feeling hollow.

After drying it away with the spare wash cloth you had just for him, he took his extra toothbrush you bought him. As he brushed his teeth his amethyst color hues stared back at him. The lack of sleep was catching up to him. His dark circles were so noticeable these days. He knew you must have noticed them too. But you didn’t say anything, you have some of your own if you didn’t cover yours with makeup.

Your dorm had the biggest windows and nobody knew exactly why. But it came handy when it was the summer. Winter not so much. Suguru sat on the windowsill with the window wide open. There was barely a breeze and when there was one, it was a warm one.

He had a cigarette in the middle of his lips. It was quiet today. Satoru must still be away on his mission. He wasn’t exactly sure where Shoko was. So that just left you and him. It’s been like that for the past few weeks.

He could hear your gentle voice singing softly as you showered. As much as you whined about the brutal cold, you hated the warm weather. You didn’t like to sweat. Suguru couldn’t blame you for that. The smoke slowly blew out of Suguru’s thin lips as he just zoned out.

“Shoko’s bad habit is rubbing off on you.”

His eyes averted to you once he heard your voice. You wore an oversized shirt (his shirt that went missing a week ago) with nothing but your nude panties underneath. When you stretched the shirt rode up exposing the fabric that barely covered your rear. He couldn’t help but to stare. The amount of time you two spent together comfortability was formed. There was times you would change clothes in front of him and he would do the same. You never caught him staring but that’s because he knew how not to get caught.

“You see a flaw in Shoko?” Suguru teased you then took another pull. You smiled to yourself, placing your dirty uniform in the hamper.

“Cigarettes don't have a better taste, y’know?” You reminded him. He knew you were concerned about his health. You were always concerned about him. Suguru was hard to read for others but when it came to you. It was like you saw what he was thinking like it was written on his forehead. Suguru swore you had some kind of unique curse technique but you just reassured him you’re very observant. He still doesn’t believe that till this day.

“You don’t know what those curses taste like.”

Suguru put out the cigarette then flicked it away. He took his bottle of water.

“True but I could tell they’re bitter.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed. Your hair was still damp from the shower reaching past your shoulders now. He noticed how fast it was growing. He also noticed the dark circles of your own now. It wasn’t as dark as his but close enough. You looked so much younger without the makeup. He didn’t mind either but you not wearing makeup might be his favorite.

“What gave you that clue?”

He tilted his head to the side with a sly smirk. You both chuckled at the same time. A comfortable silence came afterwards. The breeze was cool now thanks to your shower. You glanced down at your bare feet.

“So they don’t come in different flavors?”

“Why the sudden interest in this again?”

Suguru never really recalled you or anyone really asking him about the taste. You shrugged your shoulders crossing your legs over the other. His eyes sneaked down to look at your bare legs. He could tell without even touching them they were so smooth. He quickly looked back up at you before you noticed.

“I’m just asking, Sug. I just wish,” you let out a soft sigh, “I just wish I knew how to consume them so you wouldn’t have too.”

A light blush crept on Suguru’s cheeks.

“Name…even if you could, I wouldn’t let you.” He smiled. “But thank you.”

“Anytime.” You smiled back. You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. The heat started to slowly kick in. By the end of the night you knew you were going to take another shower.

“I bet your flavor is sweet.”

Suguru’s honey-like voice broke your thoughts. Your body shot up, feeling your eyes widened. Then you looked across to your friend who hasn’t moved from his spot. You blinked a few times before clearing your throat.

“H-huh?”

“You’ve been eating a lot of fruit lately. Especially cherries.” He told you nonchalantly with a shrug. You bit down on your bottom lip feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You thought about the times you would eat your cherries after training because you would get hungry. You didn’t want a big meal to sit in your stomach plus cherries were in season.

Suguru would watch you bite down into the dark red fruit being careful not to bite into the seed. You would suck the remains on the seed before you placed them back into your container not wanting to throw them onto the ground. Your lips would a faint red after eating them all.

“T-they’re my favorite.” You mumbled shyly shifting a bit in your seat now. Suguru chuckled lightly.

“Am I making you nervous, name?”

“N-No!” You quickly answered. He let out a laugh, you haven’t heard him laugh like that in weeks. You didn't realize how much you missed the sound of his beautiful laughter.

“You’re lying.”

“Am not.”

“You think you’re the only one who can be observant?” He countered. You part your lips but close them making a thin line. He smirked knowing he used your own words against you.

Sure Suguru would flirt with you but so would Satoru. It didn’t mean anything, right?

But Suguru didn’t speak to Shoko like that and Satoru was just a natural flirt. You slowly shook your head. Suguru stood up from the windowsill. “You’re right, name. Cigarettes don’t taste any better. But I don’t have anything to replace it”

He was walking towards you now. Your breathing picked up but couldn’t be heard. His cat-like eyes stared at you like you were his prey caught in the corner. “I am very convinced you can help me with that.” He stood in front of you. You bit down on your bottom lip.

“H-how can I do that?” You asked nervously. Suguru smiled at your curiosity.

“Easy,” he sat down next to you to move your hair behind your ear to lean close, “let me taste you.” he whispered in a husky tone. You stiffened up with your face completely flushed and it wasn’t because of the heat. You both just stared at each other for a few moments.

Maybe it was the heat wave or the curse he just ate

Or maybe he was tired of hiding these urges he had whenever you would come around.

The way your skirt would flow when you would run or jump to block attacks. The way you stared up at him with your doe eyes. The way you would brush against him so close he could smell your perfume you would spray on the side of your neck.

But Suguru needed to taste you.

Suguru was down on his knees in front of the edge of the bed. Your leg was draped on his shoulders. Your panties were already on the floor completely forgotten. His eyes were half closed not wanting to miss the pleasure on your face as his tongue swirled inside your gummy walls. His tongue would creep and twirl around your swollen clit. You did your best to keep your moans down, not wanting to be loud. But Suguru was making it so hard.

"F…uck…S-ugu…mmf!” You muffled underneath your hand to contain your volume. Your toes curled behind his shoulders. Suguru wasn’t shy to make any noise. You could hear his tongue moving against your wet core. Whenever you tried to squirm, he would use his hands that were placed on your thigh to give you a tight squeeze as a warning.

He pulled his mouth away and replaced them with his two forefingers. He dragged them slowly up and down your wet slit.

“Just like I said, sweet.” His sultry voice spoke to you. You looked down to meet his gaze. His lips glistened from your wetness and his saliva. He had a smirk. He saw you try to shy away breaking the eye contact you two were sharing. He found it so cute.

“Don’t act all shy now, pretty girl. We’re only getting started.” He slowly pushed his two fingers at once. You could feel the pressure of your wells stretching for his long thick fingers. “You’re so tight, baby.” He groaned, pressing his tongue back inside of you. He was always good at mulit-tasking.

Suguru felt himself feeling a natural high. Maybe it was the heat that spiked this feeling but he was sure it was your pussy. The leftover taste of the curse completely washed away by your juices overflowing his taste buds. Your clit was throbbing against his thumb. You started to feel your lower abdomen tightening now.

“S-Suguru! Please!” You cried out reaching down to grab some of his dark hair. He made loud slurping and sucking sounds. He moaned against you to give vibrations like a tease. He pushed your thighs open as wide as they can be. He glanced up then back down at your pretty puffy lips. He pumped his fingers in and out at a fast pace. Your legs began to fidget.

“Are you going to cum, my pretty girl?” He taunted you. You nodded your head feeling your hips move on their own against his fingers.

“S-so…so bad I-I wanna cum.”

“What’s stopping you?” he smiled.

That’s when you finally lost it and gave in. You loosened your lower body into the pressure. Suguru flattened his tongue feeling a gush of your juices coming down. He moaned how much it was and how sweet it tasted. He didn’t want to waste not one drop. Even on his fingers he sucked down on them. He turned to you laying on your back, trying to gain composure. Your lower body was exposed but you still had his shirt on. He felt the warm breeze brushed against the back of his neck.

He forgot about the window that was still open.

“Take it off.”

He told you as he went back to close the window then pulled the curtains. As much as he didn’t care, he didn’t want someone to see the way you make those cute faces when you receive pleasure. That’s for his eyes only. You slowly sat up feeling your legs stiff and weak. The room was dark now the curtain was closed. He looked over at you still with his shirt on. “You really don’t like to listen do you, hm?”

“I-I -”

He walked back over to you. He started to pull the bottom of the shirt over your body. Your arms automatically rose to help him remove the last bit of clothing you had left. It wasn’t too dark in your room. He could still see your breasts bounce back into place on your chest. He smiled.

“Such a pretty girl.” he purred. He removed his regular white shirt along with his loose joggers. You swallowed and moved to the middle of the bed. Your eyes gazed down at him slipping out of his boxers. He sprung free and you nearly choked. You couldn’t get over how he was just perfect everywhere.

His cock just thick and long. He had a few perfect veins, one vein going up to his tip that was already leaking of pre-cum. Suguru noticed you staring and chuckled lightly.

“We’ll make it fit, pretty girl. I promise.”

“H-how?” You blurted out leaning back on the few pillows you had on your bed.

“I have some kind of experience.” His larger frame hovered over you. You raised your bright brow.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it was more of a bit of this new found jealousy. This new feeling. Or maybe you always felt like this and just repressed it. Like that one time you overheard Suguru speaking with Mei Mei. Of course she was flirting with him but he also flirted back. You felt some kind of tightening in your chest. You gave him a whole silent treatment for the rest of the day. He was so clueless why you did. He did apologize.

Suguru could see your puzzled face. He leaned down to press his lips against your own. Your stupid thoughts were pushed to the side once the kiss began to heat up. His tongue claimed dominance you knew you couldn’t fight for. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your tongues massaged against each other.

He aligned himself a bit since he was so much taller than you.

“There’ll be some discomfort.” He mumbled against your lips. You rolled your eyes as you pulled away to scoff.

“I’ve been stabbed and thrown out of a building how many times?”

“Not many because Satoru and I were always there to -”

“Suguru.” You cut him off with a glare. He laughed and gave you another kiss.

He dragged his tip up and down your slit. You let out a shaky breath already making a mess just with that alone. Suguru took note and smirked. “I didn’t even do anything and you’re already a wet mess, pretty girl.” He purred.

“S-shut up and fuck me…” you breathed out. He was amused how eager you were starting to become.

“Hmm…you could say it a lot nicer, name.”

“Suguru I swear I –”

He pushed his tip against you. You gasped then your doe eyes widened. You gazed up at him. He studied your face before pushing further. A strong pressure was being pressed against you. Suguru sucked in a harsh breath. “I need you to relax, name. Be a good girl for me.”

It was like his voice put you under a spell.

You nodded slowly and tried your best to ease your body. He kissed along your neck and shoulder. You felt his hair brushing against your heated cheek. You bit your lip trying to contain a moan from coming out. He nibbled down on your collar bone then began to suck down on it. After he was done he went to breasts and sucked down on your nipple. His tongue swirled around it slowly with his eyes staring up at you.

After a few moments, Suguru pushed the tip inside of you. Another shaky breath escaped your lips.

“You’re doing a good job, baby. Just like that…” he whispered into the crook of your neck. It didn’t take long till he was able to push more of his thick grith inside of your tight core. You felt a sharp discomfort like Suguru warned you. He stood still so your tight warms could adjust for his cock. “You’re okay baby?” You mumbled a mhm and gave him a nod.

This definitely wasn’t like being stabbed or thrown out of a building.

He strokes your cheek and admires your facial features. You were used to him staring at you but not too closely. You tried your best not to break eye contact. But even in the slight darkness, he could see how your cheeks darken. You look beautiful as ever to him.

“Y-you can move, Sugu…” you whispered.

“Are you sure?”

You nod. He gave you another kiss then he began to thrust his hips slowly. The slight discomfort came back but the pleasure started to mask over the pain. You began to pant heavily when Suguru picked up his pace. You were moaning and whining with the movement of your hips trying to follow his rhythm. The jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Since the curtains were closed the room’s temperature began to rise. A light form of sweat formed on your forehead making your hair press against it. Suguru could feel a thin layer of sweat on his back.

“Mmm…fuck…this pussy is so good to me.” He moaned into your ear. His moan alone made you become a sloppier mess. He was able to push deeper inside of your gummy walls. Your walls expand for his cock hitting your spot over and over.

“Suguru…a-ahhh..”

He rolled his hips then began to pound into you. Your nails raked down his lower back then clung into your skin feeling your back being pressed into the mattress. The headboard was banging into the wall behind it. Thankfully you’re not next to anyone.

“Suguru!” You screamed out. Suguru smirked. Sure he didn’t want to get caught but hearing you yell his name out, he was willing to take the risk.

“Squeeze me, name. That’s it. Good girl. Your pretty pussy is hugging my cock so tight.”

“I-I…y-you…Sugu” You couldn’t even form a sentence being a rambling mess at this point. Cock drunk for the first time. Your vision was blurry with tears of pleasure but you could see Suguru’s beautiful face flushed. Your hand reached behind to hold onto the headboard. But he snatched it away and laced your fingers together.

“You’re mine, you hear me, name? All mine.” He breathed into your neck before he licked up your pulse. You nodded rapidly.

“A-all yours, Sugu…” you babbled, feeling his lips leave kisses on your chest down to your neck again. He loved to hear you become so vulnerable to him. "Forgot how to use your words, pretty girl? I thought you were a smart girl." He chuckled pushing your thighs to your chest and your legs against the headboard. You held your breath feeling him slide deeper you swore you could feel him in your guts. "Well look at that, you're completely stuff with me now." His eyes stared down watching your pussy engulfing him whole. He could see himself twitch inside of her. "S-Sugu...p-please..." you whined just aching for him. His eyes moved to your face. He smirked seeing how desperate you were for him. Your eyes barely open and cheeks darkening from the temperature of the room. He started to pound into you feeling every inch of him in this new position. "F-Fuck! Ngh!" You cried out not able to move with him pressing your thighs down on your chest with his board chest against your legs. He was heavily panting onto your face. He pressed his forehead against yours then leaned in for a kiss. It was a sloppy kiss but it made it easier for him to just go as deep as he wanted. You both could hear how wet you were with the loud sounds your pussy made with each time he pounded into you.

He suddenly pulled out of you completely.

You backed away from the kiss, confused and whiny.

“Suguru..” you whined out in the dark.

“Don’t be a brat now, princess,” he chuckled, then moved your body so you can be lying on your stomach, “I think you can handle me like this now, hm?”

His voice was so taunting and sexy at the same time. He could have made you do whatever he wanted. You nodded your head.

“Y-yes! Please just…need your cock back inside of me.”

Your hips moved eagerly. He reached over to grab a pillow and lifted your lower body to put your pillow underneath you.

“Arch your back…such a good girl. Look at you taking orders now.” He placed his hand on the fat of your ass. He lifted it up to see your swollen puffy folds, dripping to your inner thighs. He smiled admiring you. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me. I’ll remember that for punishment later on.”

Your eyes widen and a faint blush crept on your cheeks.

“Geto…”

“Oh. You’re addressing me like that?”

He placed a smack on your ass cheek. You whined and buried your face back into the pillow, closing your eyes tightly. He squeezed and massaged the fat of your ass before he greeted your slit with his tongue again. Your lips part to let out a faint moan, moving your hips back to him.

Suguru removed his tongue to replace it with his cock. He pushed back into you hearing a small wince for you. He started to slam his hips into your ass. Your walls clench around him, squeezing him tighter than before. One hand tightened on your hip then the other was placed on the back of your neck and squeezed. Your face being pushed into the pillow.

“Fuuuuuck. Name, n-name….”

You nearly came just hearing the way he moaned your name. Suguru felt his cock throbbing. You were babbling, slight drool coming from the corner of your mouth. Tears from the corner of your eyes going down your flushed cheeks. You came for the third time before Suguru gave you one last harsh thrust and release his warm load into you.

Your heavy panting and breathing matched with his. He slowly pulled out watching his load leaking out of you now. He took two of his fingers and coated them with it. He brought them to your lips.

“Suck.”

You lazily leaned over to place your mouth over his fingers and do what you were told. When you finished, he moved your hair out of your face. He leaned down to kiss you and your shoulder over the marks he left.

He wondered how noticeable they were going to be. Suguru got up and went to get your wash cloth then came back to clean you up. After placing the washcloth in the hamper, he laid next to you in the stuffy room rubbing your back. You couldn’t keep your eyes open and went to sleep instantly. He chuckled, kissing your lips then got up to shower.

Suguru felt better after the cool shower he had. He placed your blanket over your naked body as you snored quietly. He grabbed his stolen shirt that was thrown onto the floor and put it on.

He walked over to the window to open the curtain half way. He was greeted by the cool breeze.

He sat on the windowsill and went to light another cigarette but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hey! Name! Have you seen Suguru? He hasn’t been answering my calls or texts!” Satoru’s voice was heard behind the door as he kept knocking.

Suguru gazed over to you then got up to answer the door. He opened the door enough for him to see Suguru but not enough to see you. Satoru was surprised Suguru answered the door. His eyes were slightly larger but a grin formed on his lips.

“Speak of the devil himself.”

“Didn’t expect you back so soon, Satoru.” Suguru smiled back. Satoru scoffed at his best friend .

“Only the weak would struggle with that kind of mission. Speaking of, where’s name?”

Suguru made a mental note of how often Satoru would come to your room. Alone.

“She’s asleep. The heat made her a bit fatigued.” He answered. Satoru nodded.

“It is fucking hot today.” He began to unbutton a few buttons on his uniform shirt. That’s when his eyes lowered down to Suguru.

“Hey! Suguru, you found your shirt! Where was it?”

“Name stole it.”

Suguru smiled softly. A smile he hasn't had in weeks.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THERE WAS NO PLACE IN NATURE WE COULD MEET ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent. 

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school. 

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes. 

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…” 

a beat. you struggle to find the right word. 

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go. 

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips. 

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.” 

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted. 

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.” 

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all. 

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters. 

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.” 

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes. 

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut. 

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters. 

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.” 

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground. 

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

[vanteguccir]

Hey guys! I actually spent long minutes staring at these reblogs and debating whether it was worth responding and talking about or not. But as I'm not the type to take hate and keep quiet, I decided to talk about it.

First of all, Reia, you really seem like a person who doesn't read many fanfics for the way you put it in your text, so I'll explain the meaning of the word. Fanfic, short for "fan fiction", is a story written by a fan based on characters, universes, or real people (like the triplets). Fans create their own narratives, expanding or reimagining everything, creating their own version, which in real life does not exist OR, as writers, we often draw inspiration from real-life events too.

And yes, you and Evangeline are trying to be "fanfic police" and even "sturniolo police", if you scroll through the thousands of Sturniolo Triplets fanfics, you will come across A LOT where Matt, Nick or Chris go through situations of anxiety attack, panic attack, OR where the "reader" herself goes through this, sometimes even involving situations way worse than that. Furthermore, there's thousands of fanfics describing explicit sex scenes with them, the famous smuts, does that bother you too? Because in the world of someone who writes a FANFIC in here, it doesn't.

And yes, I was indeed writing about the meet and greet situation, and this was nothing new to ANYONE in the fandom WHO READS THE FANFICS HERE. I even made a post the day before ASKING who would like to read the idea, and you want to know the news? All 200 people who voted wanted it.

I understand that you feel this story is disrespectful FOR YOU, especially because it touches on a real-life situation that may be sensitive or painful for some people. I want to assure you that it was never my intention to cause harm or disrespect anyone involved in that situation.

I myself am diagnosed with chronic anxiety, and even so, I didn't feel affected by the way I wrote. In fact, I described how I feel during MY anxiety attacks.

In no way did I make fun of the situation Matt went through, in fact, my intention in writing this story was to explore Matt's complexity and show how he deals with real problems, such as anxiety. It was a way to give more depth to his situation during the tour and highlight the importance of the emotional support he receives from "Y/N". It was not my intention to mock him, but rather to explore his humanity and the challenges he faced, and I know with all the certainty in the world that I did not mock him, much less affect the people who read the story.

Please, I ask you to reevaluate the need to throw hate at a person who has nothing to do with your outside the box opinions of what WRITERS ON THE STURNIOLO'S TUMBLR should or shouldn't write about.

There are thousands of posts on Instagram and TikTok from "fans" really mocking Matt and throwing hate at him about "their bad experiences" during one of the shows, these are the people you should be giving a piece of your mind to, not me. 🩷

[spicyspiders]

before you know it, it's done

Ghost x male reader smut. AU where Ghost is a demon and the reader summons him because the spell said he would get three wishes. Warnings for smut and unprotected sex. I wanted to have this posted on my birthday on Saturday, but I was too busy.

It was surprisingly easy to find the spellbook you needed. The hardest part was picking out the chalk color you required. It didn’t say on the page so you wondered what color to pick. Would the demon want a neutral white color, or would it appreciate something more colorful?

“I’ve never seen that color before,” the demon says when it first appears. The color of his magic matched the color of the chalk you chose to use, a vibrant red color that stood out against the hardwood flooring of your bedroom. 

“It was one of the cheapest I could find,” you said in awe, looking up at the demon that stood before you. It stood tall on long legs that led up to a broad chest. On both sides of its chest were two muscular arms that led up to two broad shoulders. On its head was a mask that covered the entirety of its face, and on top was the face of a human skull. 

“It’s not real,” the demon said. 

You rose slowly onto your feet from where you had kneeled to cast the spell, “party city?”

“Excuse me?” The demon asked back. 

You shook your head, “nothing. So,” you said after a moment of staring at him, “do I get-”

“Your wishes?” The demon asked cutting you off, “you humans are so predictable,” the demon waved a hand dismissively in your direction. To your surprise, he stepped over the circle of chalk, past the runes you spent nearly an hour perfecting.

“How did-” you started to ask, but the demon cut you off again.

“Not bad for a beginner, but there are gaps in the binding circle,” the demon responded. It stepped past you and went for your bed and sat down. “I’ll give you your wishes, but there are rules.”

“Rules?”

“First: no wishing for more wishes,” the demon said angrily, “I fucking hate it when you try to do that. Second: I’m not raising the dead, nor am I killing anyone. Third-”

This time, you were the one to cut him off, “I just need my car fixed.”

This made the demon pause before busting out laughing, “your car, that’s it?” It asked after wiping a tear from its eye. 

“Yes? I mean, if I only get one wish, I’ll just wish for more money to fix my car and for the future if it breaks down again.”

“I’ll give you three.”

“Three?” You asked in disbelief, “is that the normal number you give people?”

“No, but you made a good first impression,” the demon looked over at the circle, “I like the color, it has me feeling,” he looked off, searching for the word, “generous.”

“Will my wishes be a trick? Like I’ll ask for something and end up getting something completely unrelated?”

The demon rolled its eyes, “that’s just a dumb stereotype you humans made up. If I wanted to trick you, I already would have. Plus, I can’t stand hearing you all bitch. You just need to be specific.”

You nodded, “how will I know if I’m being specific enough?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” the demon smirked. It pushed off your bed and stepped up into your personal space, “I could help make sure, you just have to let me in,” it said, face hovering close to yours. 

“How?” You whispered. 

“Just think of what you want,” the demon raised a hand and placed it on your temple. “There we go,” it said softly. Through the mask, its eyes flashed a bright color, nearly as bright as the chalk on your floor. 

The demon’s fingers were hot on your face, making it hard to keep your thoughts focused on what you wanted. A thud in the direction of your dresser pulled your attention away, and the demon chuckled lightly as you jumped at the noise. 

“But,” you stepped up to the pile of cash neatly stacked up, “I needed my car fixed,” you turned to face the demon. 

“It is fixed.”

“I used two wishes?” You asked in a disappointed voice. 

The demon waved a hand through the air, “two for one special.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “why?”

The demon ignored your question, instead, a slow smile stretched across its mouth, pulling at the fabric on top. It made you feel uneasy, “you had a hard time controlling your thoughts just now.”

“Sorry I’m having a hard time keeping my thoughts straight,” you grumbled, “this is all pretty new to me.”

The demon raised its hands out in surrender, “I’m not complaining. I was a man like you once, you know. I had my urges,” he finished in a low voice. 

You ignored the hot wave that ran through your body at the last word, “how long have you been in this… profession?”

He let out a laugh, “a long time now.”

“What’s your name?”

He rolled his eyes, “going to try and look me up on one of those apps you humans use?”

“No,” you answered too quickly to be convincing. 

He let out another chuckle and sat back down on your bed, “my name is Simon, though I do like the name Ghost.” He pulled your wallet out from seemingly nowhere, “and yours is,” he filled open the leather to fish out your license. 

“Hey! How’d you get that?” 

“It was right there,” Simon said, tossing your wallet back onto your bedside table. 

“Do I have to use my other wishes now?”

“No. All you have to do is call on me.”

“You have a cell phone?” You asked in disbelief. 

Simon let out another laugh. You liked his laugh and how smoky it sounded, “like with your first wish, you just have to think about me and I’ll show up,” he stood up and gave a dramatic bow and with that, he was gone in a bright glimmer of magic. 

-

The next time you called on Simon was an accident. He didn’t pop in with a flash of magic like how he had left, so it was dark in your room. The darkness was the perfect opportunity to catch you off guard. 

Your eyes had long adjusted to the dark of your room, so it was easy to pick up Simon’s. Simon’s eyes were reflective in the darkness, like an animal. 

You gave an upstroke to your hard cock, your eyes opening slowly as warm pleasure spread through your body. You jumped when you noticed his presence and quickly moved to cover yourself up. 

“You don’t have to stop on my account,” Simon purred. “Did you call me here because you need lube? Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”

“No,” you whispered. Your heart hammered in your chest, ringing loudly in your ears. 

“No?” Simon parroted, “you were just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you wished that the covers you pulled over your body would swallow you whole. Maybe that would be your next wish. You tried ignoring the way that your still-hard cock twitched when Simon stepped up to your bed. 

“I’m not angry,” Simon got on top of your body, his legs spreading to accommodate the space that your legs took up. He grabbed one of your trembling hands that rested on your chest and brought it down to his groin, “does that feel like I’m angry?”

The bulge under your fingers felt warm and heavy through the fabric of the pants Simon wore. “Oh,” you breathed and ran your hands across the fabric. 

“What were you thinking about?” Simon asked, he leaned down to bring his face close to yours, close enough to feel the puffs of his breath, but far enough to where your lips weren’t pressed together. 

You tried to lean up and close the distance, but Ghost pulled away, but he did lean down so he could press his lips to your cheek and then leaned over so he could whisper in your ear, “won’t you tell me? Please?”

“You. And what you look like under these clothes,” you managed to get out. Your fingers tightened by a small measure, feeling how his bulge continued to grow under them. 

“Good boy,” Simon responded. The second his words were out, you suddenly felt cold. Your clothes were gone and it only took a few seconds for your nipples to harden to match the state of your cock.

“Where did my clothes go?” And my blanket-” Simon stops your questions by swooping down and finally bringing your lips together. 

“That is really what you are worried about now?” Simon asked after he pulled away. 

“That comforter was expensive,” you responded with a pout. 

Simon leaned back down to kiss you until your pout was nothing but a memory. He nipped at your bottom lip, taking the flesh with him when he pulled back. 

Your eyes opened when he freed your lip from his teeth and like you, Simon was now naked. Clothes, balaclava, and all.

“I’ll give you whatever you desire after I fuck you,” Simon said, his words full of promise. The area of your room where you had drawn the runes to summon him glowed, its light spreading throughout your room and allowing you to see Simon in all his naked glory. 

Your attention was soon taken away when his hand made its way between your legs, his fingers going past your hard cock to go lower. You did, however, watch as his pec flexed as his hand moved. It finally ended up at your hole, his fingers already wet. 

“You already had lube?”

Simon smirked and ran a slick finger around your hole, “not exactly,” he answered. When you tried to open your mouth to question him, he pressed his lips to yours. He swallowed the noises you made when his tongue pressed inside your mouth, and like his slick tongue, his slick finger was making its way inside. 

He wouldn’t let you focus on trying to question him, his movements were deliberate in getting you ready. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders after running your hands up his big chest. Your hands squeeze at the hot skin as you try your best to quickly get used to the burn of his second finger making its way in.  

Simon’s fingers get wetter inside your body as he watches your face closely. It’s a new sensation, one that makes your cock twitch and let out a glob of precome. 

“You’re getting so wet for me,” Simon observes in a low voice. “Down here,” he holds himself up on his knees so he can use his other hand to skim his fingers over the head of your cock, “and down here.” He emphasizes his point by coating the inside of your hole with his fingers. A third joins the second, and they make fast work in pressing against your prostate. 

You’re hit with spikes of pleasure as his fingers press over the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please,” you moan, not even sure what you’re asking for. You must send flashes of your thoughts of what you want to Simon because his fingers pull out and are replaced by the thick head of his cock. The head of it is wet, and you guess he used whatever he did on his fingers. You both groan as he teases you by rubbing the head against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. 

“I know, darling,” Simon whispers. He presses soft kisses to the heated, sweaty skin of your face as he slowly thrusts his cock inside. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, making it all the easier for his cock to find its way inside. You both let out a breath for he finally bottoms out, his balls pressing against your ass. 

Simon holds himself up on his strong arms when he pulls out after you’ve adjusted. He pulls out just as slow as he had initially gone in only to go right back in when the head presses against your hole. 

Like his fingers, his cock makes quick work of finding the bundle of nerves Simon’s fingers were just against. His cock is like a hot brand, carving out space every time he thrusts in. The feeling of it burns. One that burned with pain when it initially began, but soon was overtaken by pleasure. 

His cock makes you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. A feeling that begins in your groin as his cock finds your prostate over and over only to spread through the rest of your body. The heat makes your body sweat, making it difficult to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I’ve got you,” Simon murmurs before wrapping both hands around your waist. You let your legs relax, but still, keep them around his hips. The angle Simon holds your hips up at makes his cock go deeper, making you feel full. 

Simon brings his chest to yours so he can get his face close enough to kiss you. It’s wet and messy with a mash of lips, teeth, and tongue. Simon doesn’t go far when it’s over as he presses his face into the side of your neck. You hold his head in place by burying a hand in his hair as he begins to nip and kiss your neck.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, accompanied by the prickle of pain caused by his teeth on your neck. You let out moans that bounce off the walls of your bedroom, filling up the space. Filling up the space is also the glow of the runes, burning bright as Simon chases after his orgasm. 

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Simon comes with a long groan. The runes blaze as he comes deep inside you. The color casts a halo around Simon’s body, nearly silhouetting him. He looks like an angel, a thought that nearly pulls a hysterical laugh from your chest. 

The colors grow dimmer when Simon quiets down as he comes down from his orgasm. Your legs fall from his hips and as they come down, so does Simon. He wraps his arms around you and encases your body in his sweaty weight. 

Exhaustion hits you soon after and your eyes grow heavy. Your thoughts go to Simon right before you fall asleep, wondering if he’ll still be on top of you when you wake up. You fall asleep to the feeling of his arms tightening around your body and a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your neck.   

[misstycloud]

Unfortunate Love

Yandere childhood friend x taken GNreader

—————

Finn took a deep breath, a poor attempt to loosen his nerves. He had all reasons to be nervous, he was finally getting to see his long-time best friend after so many years. While they did speak on the phone and spent hours sending texts back and forth between their devices, it was nothing compared to the real thing. The blonde's felt his heart thump loudly against his chest, reminding him of all those moments in their youth when he was painfully in love with his friend and they had no clue.

Hah, they still don't! (Y/n), his bestie who doesn't know how they make him feel every time they speak. (Y/n) who had no idea of the lovesick gazes he would send them whenever they weren't looking. (Y/n) who was oblivious to his feelings for years, somehow never realising despite it staring them straight in the eyes. (Y/n) who remained clueless to his despair the day they announced their relationship. (Y/n) who never saw him on the floor in his room, covered with snot and ears, desperately crying for them.

Finn dubble checked his phone to make sure he was at the right address, it would be embarrassing to hype himself up only to be met with an old lady in the doorway. Geez, he knew (Y/n) would laugh their ass of if that happened and he'd rather not be ridiculed during their first reunion in so long. He smiled at the thought, god how he loved that laugh.

His friend always complained they hated it, but he found it cute and always reassured there was nothing to be ashamed of, even if they sounded like a 'dying-elephant-choking-on-its-own-trunk-while-having-a-cold-and-birthing-a-new-elephant.'

After just a few seconds after knocking on the wooden frame, the door swung open and he laid eyes on the most important person in his life.

"Oh my god, Finn!" You exclaimed in joy at the sight. "I haven't seen you like this in ages. It's great that you could come, I can't wait to show you everything I've told you about."

He giggled at your enthusiasm, it was always like this, you lifting him up and making him see the beauty in things he would otherwise pay no mind to.

You pulled Finn inside your apartment, excited to exhibit your home to him. "We've gotten a bunch of plants- to make the air in here fresh you know- and even started our own little plantation on the balcony. There are lots up on the roof, too. It's accessible to everyone in the building so we're not the only ones doing this. Oh, and there's a pool you can use! It's awesome for parties."

As the blonde man was getting sucked into your babble, one word in your speech painfully stuck out to him: We. Oh, right. He almost forgot. Your not alone living in this home.

"(Y/n), have you seen the wine? I wanted to bring it out for when- oh!" Finn looked passed you and saw a tall, handsome brunette make his way around the corner and meet eyes with him. "Why didn't you say he arrived already?" He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Trying to make me look bad, are we?" Your boyfriend teased you.

You slapped his arm, "Of course not, just got a bit caught up in the conversation, Eric. And I put the wine in the second box in the fridge, it's behind a bunch of other stuff so it's hard to see."

"Haha, okay, was getting panicky there." Eric stepped forward to properly greet his guest. "Hey, I'm Eric as you probably already know."

"Finn." He responded dryly, but if the other man noticed, he didn't express it. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"It's fun to meet one of (Y/n)'s old friends, I know you two go way back." Ushering his partner's childhood friend further inside, he spoke, "I hope the trip wasn't too much of a hassle, wouldn't want this to be of any trouble for you."

Of course it wasn't any trouble, Finn wanted to snap. But he wasn't dumb enough to do that. He understood what would happen if he acted upon his feelings.

“No, there were no issues.”

The three of you sat down in the living room, pouring the liquid evenly and getting the conversation started. Finn found himself multiple times wanting to throw your partner against the wall. It was so unfair. Everything was. Why did Eric get to live with you and he didn't? He knew you way better than your own boyfriend. You two have been together since you were crawling around in diapers. What could possibly beat that?

He was there when you lost your first tooth. He was there when you first learned to ride a bike, when you got that job at the ice cream shop in the plaza, and moved out of your parents house. All the important moments in your life, he had been present. And what the hell has Eric done except watering some plants with you? It was laughable. Anyone could see he was not worthy of being your boyfriend. Finn would do anything for you and he doubted the same could be said for Mr. Gardner.

A part of him was ashamed at the unethical length he was willing to go, but on the other hand those feeling were washed away when he saw you beaming at him. It was all worth it if it was for you.

You and Eric were retelling funny stories of your time in the city while Finn was writhing in envy, glaring slightly in the other man's direction, not that you noticed of course. Dinner rolled around and you served your friend with great eagerness, you have been working on your culinary skills for a while now and it was time to see if the work had payed off. The brunette had endured as your Guinea pig and said it tasted good, but you insisted the true test was giving the food to someone else.

"How is it?"

Finn gasped for added affect, "It's amazing (Y/n)! You're a fantastic chef, this is definitely the best meal I've ever had." He praised, and your ego nearly boosted through the roof.

Your cheeks dusted a light pink. "Haha, well thanks. It's not that good, but I appreciate it."

The blonde man simply smiled in content. The truth was, the dish was in fact not that good. It wasn't bad by any means, however it wouldn't win any award. The past was cooked too long and the sauce had a burnt taste to it. Despite all these factors, it was without a doubt the best meal he ever had. Because it was something you had made for him with your own hands. Even the ingredients were ones you'd grown by yourself. (Partly with your sweetheart's help, but Finn pretended not to know.)

You really were his true love. Which is why it is so sad. He wasn't sure if he could love anyone other than you. After he found out about your relationship status the young man tried to make himself like someone else; not everything works out the way we wish them to and he was therefore forced to live with his unrequited love.

"Actually, there's another reason we wanted you to visit." You joyfully mentioned. "It's pretty important."

Your friend chewed his food and gave you a nod, signaling you to continue your speech. He wondered what is was. It appeared to be a big deal, but he assumed it wasn't anything bad judging from your happy expression, one that was mirroring the brunette's. A dreadful feeling formed in his gut. He didn't like this.

"Well," you started, coyly. "Me and Eric have been dating for a long time now, and we want to take the next step in our lives together."

No, he really didn't like where this was going.

"So, we made the decision to-" you could barely contain your smile, " get married!"

Something in him shattered. Married? You? To someone else. Fuck, he wanted to cry. But that would definitely set you off into a worrying mess, something he'd rather avoid. No, no , no, he thought. It can't be! Although he tried to contain his emotions as best he could, it appeared som e of it slipped passed the mask.

"Hey, you good man?" Eric asked.

This comment attracted your attention, "Huh, are you not feeling well, Finn?" Fretting over his condition only served to worsen the situation, reminding him of what he couldn't have.

In the end he had to excuse himself and lie that he did feel a bit sick, and that he had been for a while but thought he would be fine after a while. You were sad that he had to leave so soon and wished him well. Escorting him to the door, you said to him, "Sad you're not 100% top today."

"Ehehe, yeah...." he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Technically it wasn't a lie, he did want to go and bury himself in a corner, though it was for other reasons entirely.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night here, it's no problem?" Oh how good willed you were, offering up space in your home to stop your friend from having to spend money on a hotel. Normally he'd love to spend the night, this time however, he didn't believe it to be a wise idea for any of you.

"Yeah I'm sure. I'll just get a hotel room not far away and then I'll drive back home tomorrow."

"Okay, maybe we can hangout before you go if you're better tomorrow?" You asked hopefully. "Just you and me like old days."

This made him smile. Just you and him. That sounded good. He agreed to your request and hugged you goodbye for the night. You waved to him from the window when he'd made his way outside and into his car. Watching Finn drive away, you felt a hand sneak itself around your waist.

"Think he'll be alright?" A deep voice sounded from behind you.

"Yes, it'll be all fine. Nothing a goodnight's rest can't fix." You assured. Though, something about your friend's reaction didn't sit right with you. He should be over the moon of your engagement, he seemed nothing like that. If anything, he looked...pained?

//////

Back in the car, the volume from the speakers were loud enough to burst one's eardrums. But that didn't matter the the driver. No he had a lot more to think about. The blaring music did nothing to ease the pain or distract him, which left him misrable.

Why the hell did you have to get engaged. Couldn't you have been fine as it was. Now, it was more serious than ever. In the beginning, he had actually hoped that you would eventually break up. That wouldn't happen now. Now it was legit. Legal papers and documents and everything. What was next on the list, kids?

Finn heaved a heavy breath, releasing a mix between a gurgle and sob. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he slowed the vehicle to a stop by the deserted road. The darkness kept people from seeing his sorry state; not that there were any out to begin with. Slamming his fist on the dashboard, he yelled his pain.

Why do love hurt so much?

[kayewrite]

I hate to admit

(bsn ending #3)

changbin x reader!! changbin x fem.reader!! word count: 2.5k

bsn alternative ending #3 wherein; changbin who can't believe that he falls in love with you, and do the dumbest thing he thought he would never do.

an: i love this.

an: i have alot of upcoming exam so maybe i would post some parts at the same time.

part 1! part 2!

At first, Changbin just wanted to tease you. It was like a game to him, a way to pass the time and keep things light. You had this way of reacting that was just too entertaining—your exaggerated eye rolls, the way you'd huff in mock annoyance, and then the inevitable laugh that would bubble up despite yourself. Changbin thrived on that; it made him feel like he had the upper hand, that he could easily get under your skin in the most harmless way.

It started innocently enough. You were just friends, and that’s all it was supposed to be. He loved the banter, the ease with which you two could go back and forth, trading playful insults and teasing each other about the smallest things. He loved how you’d get flustered when he pushed your buttons, and how you’d always try to get him back but never quite succeeded. It was fun, nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But then, things started to change, even if he didn’t want to admit it. It wasn’t just about the teasing anymore. He started noticing little things about you—how your smile could light up a room, how you’d chew on your lip when you were thinking, how your laughter was the one sound he always wanted to hear, no matter how bad his day was going. He found himself looking forward to seeing you, to hearing what you’d say next, to feeling the warmth of your presence.

It didn’t hit him all at once. It was gradual, like a slow burn that he didn’t even realize was happening until it was too late. He started to notice how his heart would skip a beat when you were around, how he’d feel a strange sense of protectiveness whenever someone else got too close to you. He hated it. It didn’t make sense. You weren’t his type—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. You were just his friend, nothing more. But no matter how much he tried to push those feelings away, they kept coming back, stronger and more persistent each time.

He told himself it was just a phase, that he’d get over it. But then there was that day, the day you cried in his arms. It was unexpected, and it shook him to his core. You weren’t the type to cry easily; you were strong, independent, always ready with a comeback. But seeing you like that, so vulnerable and in need of comfort, it did something to him. He held you close, whispering soothing words, and in that moment, he realized just how much he cared about you. Not just as a friend, but as something more.

That’s when it hit him—he wasn’t just having fun anymore. This was serious. He had feelings for you, feelings he had been trying to deny for so long. And he hated it. He hated how you were starting to become beautiful in his eyes, how you were becoming more important to him than anyone else. The girls he used to date, the ones he thought were perfect, suddenly seemed so superficial in comparison. You were different. You were real, and that scared him more than anything.

But there was no denying it now. The more time he spent with you, the deeper he fell. And that terrified him.

“I think I like her,” he finally admitted to Hyunjin one day, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared at the ground, unable to meet his friend’s eyes.

Hyunjin paused, blinking at Changbin like he'd just grown a second head. It was the first time Hyunjin had ever seen him look so vulnerable. Changbin, the tough guy who always had a snarky comeback, was bowing his head, almost as if he was ashamed.

Hyunjin snorted, trying to stifle his laughter. "Why do you look like you just admitted to committing a crime?" he teased, twirling a pen in his hand as he eyed Changbin with amusement.

"You don't understand," Changbin grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She’s seen me with all those other girls. She probably thinks I'm a jerk."

"Well… you kind of are," Hyunjin said with a smirk, earning a glare from Changbin. "And besides, she’s your friend. Doesn’t that make it even more complicated?"

Changbin sighed, leaning back against the couch. "She deserves someone better. Someone who doesn’t have a track record like mine."

Hyunjin nodded thoughtfully before breaking into a mischievous grin. "You know who that is, right?"

Changbin frowned, not catching on to the joke. "Who?"

"Me," Hyunjin said with a cocky smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Changbin’s eyes widened in shock, and without thinking, he gave Hyunjin a playful shove. "Don’t tell me…"

Hyunjin just laughed, the kind of laugh that echoed with a challenge. "What? Scared of a little competition?"

Changbin rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. And just like that, the two of them were in a playful competition—both too stubborn to confess, both too proud to back down.

Changbin had never been one to second-guess himself, especially when it came to girls. But this time was different. For days, he had wrestled with the idea of confessing to you, feeling torn between his usual confident self and the unfamiliar vulnerability that came with liking someone genuinely.

It was a feeling that gnawed at him, a mix of excitement and fear that kept him up at night. He’d planned it out in his head a thousand times—how he’d approach you, what he’d say, and how he’d try to keep his cool. But every time he thought about it, his heart would race, and his words would get jumbled up in his mind.

Finally, one day, Changbin decided he couldn’t wait any longer. It was now or never. He’d confess to you, and he’d do it in a way that was both personal and meaningful—something that showed how much you meant to him.

But when the moment came, Changbin found himself sitting at his desk, staring down at a small blue sticky note. His heart pounded as he held the pen in his hand, trying to figure out the right words. He couldn’t believe he was doing this—writing a confession on a sticky note like some lovesick kid. It felt so unlike him, yet at the same time, it felt like the only way he could express what he was feeling.

“Love really does change you,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “It makes you a fool.”

The playboy who used to flirt with girls without a second thought was now reduced to sneaking around, trying to leave a secret note in your binder. It was almost laughable, but Changbin couldn’t deny the fluttering in his chest as he wrote down his confession.

He stared at the words for a long moment, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and anxiety. This was it—his feelings laid bare on a tiny piece of paper. He quickly folded the note and looked around the classroom, making sure no one was watching.

When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Changbin seized the opportunity. His heart raced as he sneaked over to your desk, his hands shaking slightly as he slipped the note into your binder. He quickly pulled back, almost as if the binder had burned him.

“It’s done,” he thought, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, though the nervousness still lingered in the pit of his stomach.

But just as he was about to head back to his seat, Seungmin walked in, his sharp eyes immediately noticing Changbin’s unusual behavior.

“What was that?” Seungmin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Changbin shot him a nonchalant look, trying to play it cool. “Mind your own business, puppy,” he replied with a smirk, using the nickname that always seemed to get under Seungmin’s skin.

But Seungmin wasn’t so easily fooled. He had known Changbin long enough to recognize when something was up, and the way Changbin was acting only made him more curious. His eyes narrowed as he watched Changbin walk back to his desk, the usually confident boy now looking slightly rattled.

Seungmin frowned, glancing towards your desk. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with him, and despite Changbin’s dismissive attitude, Seungmin couldn’t help but feel like there was more to this than met the eye.

Once Changbin’s back was turned, Seungmin casually strolled over to your desk, his curiosity getting the better of him. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but something was urging him to take a look. Slowly, he reached out and opened your binder, his heart pounding as he found the blue sticky note tucked inside.

As he unfolded it, Seungmin’s eyes widened in surprise. There, in Changbin’s unmistakable handwriting, was the confession. The words were simple but sincere, and Seungmin felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. He knew Changbin cared about you, but seeing it written out like this made it all too real.

He took a deep breath, trying to process what he had just discovered. Changbin, the notorious playboy, was confessing to you. Seungmin couldn’t believe it, and yet, at the same time, it made perfect sense.

But as he was about to close the binder, something else caught his eye. There, in the back of your notebook, was a small drawing—a sketch of Changbin, with a heart drawn beside it. Seungmin’s heart sank as he stared at the drawing, the reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“They’re so childish,” he muttered under his breath, trying to brush off the pain he felt creeping into his chest. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the truth was there, staring him in the face. He liked you too, and seeing this only made it harder to deny.

Seungmin quickly closed the binder, hiding the note and the drawing from sight. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to acknowledge the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, or the fact that he might be losing you to Changbin.

As he walked back to his seat, Seungmin forced a smile, trying to act like nothing was wrong. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to change, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

--

"Here is the toothpaste-flavored ice cream I promised you," Changbin said, shoving it into your hands with a playful grin.

You glared at him, giving him the most deadly look ever. "Why do you like this stuff? It’s like eating bubbles while you’re brushing your teeth," he teased, his face twisted in mock disgust, though you could see the laughter in his eyes.

Ignoring his teasing, you took a bite, savoring the cool minty flavor. "Why do you care? You even like pizzas with pineapples on top! Pineapples are pineapples!" you retorted, raising an eyebrow at him.

Changbin burst out laughing, "Pineapple on pizza is the best!"

"No, it’s not," you shot back, rolling your eyes.

"And mint chocolate chip ice cream is never," he countered, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

You pouted, shielding your ice cream protectively as if it had feelings. "Don’t talk like that right in front of my ice cream."

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to tease you. The two of you were sitting on a bench, overlooking the vast field at your school. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything.

"There are indeed things that shouldn’t be put together," he said, his tone more serious now, "but others love it."

You nodded silently, sensing the shift in his mood.

"Everyone thought it was wrong, but for some, it was perfect," he continued, his voice softer, almost reflective.

You listened quietly, understanding what he was trying to say. "No matter what other people say, you don’t want to care. Because their opinions don’t matter," you added, your voice filled with quiet determination.

Changbin looked at you, and you looked back at him. A small smile tugged at his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile back. In that moment, everything felt simple and clear.

He hated to admit it, but he was really in love with you, deeper than he had ever expected.

-

When his birthday came around, you carefully packed the watch you had bought for him. It was special, not because it was expensive, but because it held a little secret—something only you knew about. Inside the box, you slipped in a small drawing you had made, along with a letter.

You arrived at the party, trying to feel happy, but the tension in the air made it hard. There were too many emotions swirling inside you—happiness, confusion, and a nagging sense of guilt. You didn’t know what to feel.

Before you could walk out, you handed Changbin his birthday gift, your heart pounding in your chest. He had planned to confess to you on his special day, but now, seeing the look in your eyes, he wasn’t sure what to do. So, he decided to give you some space.

After the party, when everyone had gone home, Changbin sat down and opened your gift. Inside, he found a watch. He already had many watches, but this one immediately became his favorite.

He thought that was all you had given him, but then he noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside the box. Curious, he unfolded it and found a drawing of himself, accompanied by a letter.

As he read the letter, his heart began to race.

"I wish you a happy birthday. I hope you have the best day…" the letter began.

Changbin suddenly sprang from his seat, grabbing his keys and jacket in a rush. He had to see you, and he had to see you now.

He hurried to his car.

"I hate to admit but this is a very lame way to confess…"

His eyes welled up with tears as he sped down the road, the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over.

"…I like you… but I know you also see me as a friend."

You stood by the window of your apartment, feeling the cool evening breeze on your face. Your heart was heavy with all the emotions you had been holding back.

"and… I know you were the one who put the note,"

Just as you were about to turn away from the window, a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew who it was before you even opened the door.

It was Changbin.

You both hated to admit it, but you were both childish, caught up in your own fears and insecurities. But now, standing there in the doorway, all that mattered was the truth that had finally come to light.

--

em: i love this changbin. i cri. why no one chooses him btw TT

masterlist

[izels-writing]

s. black — august

Tagged; @urbansaint

Pairing: sirius black x fem!slytherin!french!reader

Summary: you and sirius spent most of august together.

Warnings: slightly ooc sirius, a little drama but they’re teens so😝, harassment (brief), slight enemies to lovers if u squint real hard, a bit rushed i apologize, brief mention of france so i apologize i forgot that was part of the request, also i didn’t put regulus and sirius making up in this bc it was already long asf my bad

you hated sirius black. with a passion. not for any unknown reason—no, you had every right to hate him. even his friends knew it. and you were nothing if not stubborn. you'd never admit someone could get under you skin, but he absolutely could.

to understand why you hated sirius, first you had to understand what lead to this in the first place—starting at the beginning.

after a two-week vacation in your parents home town, bordeaux, france, you were very happy to be home. it wasn't that you hated your extended family, but you certainly enjoyed the comfort of your own bed as opposed to the old mattress that your older cousin no longer used.

living beside the potters was fun, if you could believe. you and your parents got along amazingly with the potters, despite you and james' teasing rivalry. you both never meant anything by it, but it was a fun inside joke—even if you hardly acknowledged each other at school.

placing your book down, you glanced up through your bedroom window, peering inside james' bedroom curiously. adding to the rivalry, your bedrooms faced each other—which was funnier than you both cared to admit.

you spotted a tall, though shorter than james, lean boy with handsome features and beautiful black hair. immediately, when he turned around, you recognized it to be sirius black—james' best friend. you knew seldom of sirius' home situation, but knew enough to know that the potters were his safe haven.

unfortunately, a week into the summer, before you left for france—sirius showed up to you and james' movie night, bleeding and crying hysterically from whatever had happened at his home. james helped him get changed while you made them tea and you quickly left, knowing it was not your place to stay. since then, sirius had spoken to you and apologized for the intrusion—but you knew he had nothing to be sorry for. it wasn't his fault.

since you had gotten home, you had gotten yourselves into a bit of a tedious situation.

one night, before the beginning of august, he had trouble sleeping and he had signaled to you through your bedroom window (given he knew what a night owl you were) that he was bored. though you felt you shouldn't have, given your parents no boys rule, you invited him over through your window. he had stayed up with you for a few hours, you two talking about anything and everything that came to mind.

and then, it became a nightly occurrence. you both thought james had no idea, given his habit of sleeping at 9:30 pm sharp, and if he did, he never made it obvious. every night, at 11 pm, he'd climb out of james' window and into yours.

and eventually, given the intimacy of those shared late nights, you grew an attraction to one another. one that did not go left unsaid.

you pulled away from your kiss, pushing sirius' hair out of his face. he was under you, with you straddling his torso as he lied on your bed. his lips were a red shade, from the bruising kissing you two had been engaged in. he tried to pull you in again with a smirk, but you chuckled and pulled away again. you stared into his eyes.

"we're going back to school soon, you know that right?" you asked. he groaned.

"don't remind me," he whined. he pulled you in for another kiss, pulling your hips down onto his. you hummed happily into the kiss but pulled back again.

"so, i know it may be too early to decide this, but we've got to figure out how to explain it you know?" you replied. his side wasn't so much a problem, but you were already a pariah in the slytherin house—given your indifference to pureblood status—you didn't exactly want to seem like the weird girl who sneaks around with a gryffindor.

sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "what're you talking about?"

he sat up as you situated yourself on his lap. he gave you a confused look and you shyly explained, "well, people are gonna ask questions—i feel like we should be on the same page about this, whatever this is,"

"yeah, well it's simple, no one will know," sirius shrugged. he tried to lean into to kiss you again, but you pulled away, sliding off of his lap.

"what do you mean no one will know?" you questioned, your blood running cold as he looked at you.

"i mean we'll keep it a secret, no one should know and frankly i don't want to tell anyone," he said casually.

you blinked at him. "and why not?"

he chuckled, trying to ease the growing tension. "y/n, you and i can't be seen together, you and i both know that..."

"what're you on about?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly at the boy.

"well, you know you're a...slytherin, you know? i can't be seen with you, your house is what i've been trying to escape my whole life..." he said dumbfounded.

you felt your heart drop as you chuckled humorlessly, you stood up and paced the room, "i don't believe this..."

frankly, hearing this made you wish you had never met him into your room in the first place.

"what? y/n, come on, you can't be that way... you know what my families like, and they're all slytherins, what'll people say when they see me with you? after running away? it's laughable!"

your blood boiled. "how can you sit there and say that? so what, i'm shameful to be with? not all slytherins are the same, just because your family is from that house and they're dickwads—it doesn't mean the same for the rest of us!" you said angrily.

"i can't believe you're overreacting about this! it's just not the right time! i ran away from my family, to be with a real loving family, to what? be associated with another slytherin? i've worked so hard to be separated from that house, from that family, i'm sorry but i won't go back—not for anyone. you can't sit here and tell me that everyone from that house isn't exactly like my family!" sirius replied angrily. he stood from your bed as he yelled and you felt your heart twist, staring up at him with fury.

"you know, you sit here and talk about how terrible your family is and how much you hate them and never want to be like them," you spat. "but you are exactly like them!"

"you judge people, you act like you're better than everyone because of who you are or what house your from, and you are a coward and cruel!" you spat angrily, lip quivering. "get out!"

sirius' expression changed. he was angry. he was hurt. more importantly, he felt like you had just plunged a deep knife into his heart and twisted. but most of all, he looked numb.

"you know what? i will leave, i may be a coward, but i would've never said to you what you just said to me," he spat. he climbed out of the window, leaving quickly and quickly going into his own home.

you watched angrily as he did, unfortunately still caring that he made it inside safely, and closed your window and curtain.

you couldn't believe he had made you feel so stupid...

———

months had passed since you and sirius' huge fight. since then, you'd hardly spoken to each other—and if you did, it wasn't very kind exchanges. your interactions were filled with glares and sarcasm and irritability with each other—and james was left more than confused how something so gentle could change into something so angry overnight.

nonetheless, you did your best to avoid each other at school. did you miss your late night talks with him? your late night eating sessions? most of all, your late night arts and crafts? of course, but he had shown you who he really was. you didn't need to miss someone like that. ( and honestly, it had become really clear how boring you two were together—but those nights were the funnest nights of your life. )

"hey, y/n," pandora burke sighed, throwing herself in the seat in front of you in the great hall. you looked up at your friend and smiled slightly, "hey, dora," you replied.

soon enough, evan rosier joined you both—quickly accompanied by regulus black. you were close with pandora for a long time, but not so much regulus and evan until this year. pandora, who was the only one to know about your fling, attributed the newfound friendship with the younger black brother as a subtle way to get back at sirius—whether it was or not, you certainly enjoyed regulus' company since he matured as a person—and you had to admit, the angry and infuriated look on sirius' face when you laughed with his brother was priceless.

you glanced up from your cereal as evan talked happily about the new spell he had learned to mess with gryffindors, finding grey eyes looming over you as you ate. you flared at sirius, finding he more than returned the favor.

"hello? y/n? why aren't you listening to me? can you stop eye-fucking regulus' brother for one second and listen to me?" evan said loudly, turning a few heads. thankfully, plenty were afraid of regulus that when he glared at them to mind their business, they did just that.

"i am not," you seethed.

"you kind of are," pandora added sheepishly.

"leave her alone," regulus sighed. "he was staring at her,"

"that fucking asswipe, i don't understand what's so interesting about me eating my cereal?" you scoffed, turning to regulus dumbfounded.

regulus shrugged. "maybe he thinks you're pretty,"

"probably," pandora smirked, eyeing you subtly.

"i know i'm pretty, i don't need his validation," you spat—glaring at the boy who had promptly turned to join in with lupin and pettigrews conversation.

you turned to regulus and smiled nonetheless, "but thanks, reg," you grinned, hitting his side playfully.

"whatever, we should go...we have divination soon," regulus muttered.

"you don't even like that class," evan said.

"yeah, but i do, and reggie is my mini me, let's get on with it, reg," you grinned, pulling regulus up with you. bidding a goodbye to your friends, you and regulus left the great hall arm-in-arm—unbeknownst to both of you, a pair of grey eyes watched you both angrily as you left.

——

potions was a hard enough class as it was, given your head of house taught it and expected perfection from his students. it was even harder when slughorn had no sense of social cues and decided to pair you and sirius up today to complete a potion.

frankly, you couldn't put all the blame on slughorn. if sirius and james weren't acting like such idiots, then you and pandora wouldn't have gotten separated to be paired with them.

"can you at least pretend like you're interested?" you hissed at the boy who had put his hair up in a makeshift bun and kicked his feet up on the table. you swatted his feet to the ground, glaring angrily at him.

"why should i? you're just gonna do what you when you want to anyway," sirius spat back.

you rolled your eyes. you nodded at the wooden spoon, "hand me that, you twat," you sneered. with ab annoyed huff, sirius grabbed the spoon and placed it softly in your hand. his fingertips brushed against your palm and for a second, it felt like that comforting feeling of you two back in your room—hands intertwined under covers and lips locked passionately.

he pulled his hand away promptly as you stared at the cauldron, trying to snap your common sense back into place. you acted unbothered by the hand touch and resumed your potion making, a subtle scowl printed on your lips.

you turned to sirius, glancing down at your textbook before looking at him. "bring me the rat's heart," you said sternly. with an exaggerated, annoyed sigh—sirius stood quickly and made his way over, picking up a small jar of the rats heart and ambling over, placing it gingerly in your hand.

"anything else, your highness?" he asked sarcastically.

you glared at him. "no, that'll be all, thank you," you spat back.

——

after class, you went to the library to try and get homework done. as much as you loved pandora, you were easily distracted by her and you would really like to turn your stuff in on time.

unfortunately for you, goyle had other plans. he was some persistent 5th year who had a thing for you, which would be fine, if he wasn't a downright creep about it. you didn't even know the boys first name, that's how irritating he was to you.

"come on, i'll bet I'll give you the best night of your life," goyle whispered to you, trying his hardest to seduce you it seemed. you rolled your eyes.

"leave me alone, i don't want any nights with you," you sneered, shoving a book into its shelf and attempting to walk off.

nonetheless, the boy persisted. "you're playing hard to get," he chuckled.

"or maybe you're not worth my time," you scoffed.

his face twisted angrily as he tripped to grip your hip. "don't talk to me like that," he said angrily.

"get your hands off of me!" you spat, throwing his hand off.

"i ought to—" goyle began.

"get the bloody hell off of her," sirius spat, shoving goyle away from you. "when a girl tells you no, she means no,"

"whatever, you're a slag anyway," goyle spat at you before walking off. sirius almost went after him, but you grabbed his arm as you watch goyle leave.

"don't worry about it, thanks," you said nonchalantly.

he nodded at you, "any time, n/n,"

both of your eyes widened, as you both remembered the exact times he'd call you that nickname. you cleared your throat and walked off, leaving him standing there blankly before he eventually walked off.

you turned the corner, bringing your back to the shelf, and took a deep breath. why did he have to keep reminding you?

——

parties were debatable to you. a part of you liked the music and the dancing, and most certainly the drinking. another part of you hated to be around that many people at one time. however, you'd do it for james.

gryffindor had just won their game against ravenclaw, and james begged you to come to the party. it was rare you two actually spoke to you at school, but when you did talk—it was usually to ask for each others support.

you entered the gryffindor common room, your little black dress wrapped around your body in all the right places and your heels heightened you just enough that it made your legs look longer. you pulled off your cardigan, draping it over the couch that sat near the fireplace.

you quickly joined your friends marlene and dorcas on the dance floor—you, james, and marlene had grown up together as neighbors. so though you weren't as close anymore, you still considered each other friends.

"hey babe," marlene grinned, running over to hug you. dorcas smiled and did the same, greeting you quietly.

"hey marls, where's james?" you asked, looking around for your tall, messy-haired friend.

"uh...oh! doing shots over there with sirius, remus, and peter!" she replied, pointing over to the four boys. you smiled and the three of you made your way over.

"congrats james!" you and marlene exclaimed, running up to hug him. he smiled and kissed both of your heads.

"guys, these are my sisters! i love them so much!" he slurred, pulling you and marlene close. the other boys and dorcas laughed, while you and marlene chuckled. thankfully, james had showered before the party.

the rest of them quickly ran off to the dance floor, leaving you and sirius standing there watching them. you poured yourself a cup of beer, taking a small sip.

"you look great, n/n," sirius smiled. his cheeks were a bit flushed, but above all else, he looked sober.

"how drunk are you right now?" you asked, surveying him closely.

"never mind," he said promptly before attempting to walk off. you grabbed his forearm swiftly and smiled slightly.

"thanks," you said simply. he grinned at you, before walking off into the dance floor. he was most definitely drunk.

as the party progressed, you managed to be the only one to stay sober. every one of your friends was hammered, leaving you to babysit the group. thankfully, they weren't blackout.

"alright, here you both go," you grunted as you set peter down in his bed and remus on the one beside it. truthfully, you didn't know which was who's bed, but you knew if you didn't get them to sleep now—it wouldn't end well.

they muttered a thanks to you before the snores quickly began. you laughed it off, before walking over to james where he lied on what you presumed was his bed. he was sound asleep thankfully, so you swiftly removed his glasses and placed it on his dresser.

marlene and dorcas had already been put to bed, with the help of lily, who had bid you a quick good night as she went to babysit the two of them.

with a sigh, you went back downstairs to your last caretakee of the night. sirius, though you disliked him, couldn't be the only one you didn't put to bed. you sighed and crouched in front of him, being sure to cover your knees with your dress.

"sirius, it's time to go to bed," you said.

"no, i want to party!" he exclaimed through his closed eyes, pumping his fist in the air.

"yeah, there's a party in your bed, come on," you tried. then you scrunched your nose, "that sounded so wrong,"

he giggled. "you're funny,"

"it's one of my many talents," you replied. then, you stood and offered him a hand. he sighed and took it, standing up and stumbling slightly.

you allowed him to support his weight on you, despite the height difference, and you both stumbled over to the stairs. you took a few steps before he groaned.

"stop, stop, i'm going to throw up," he groaned. you quickly let him sit down, sitting beside him promptly. you waited patiently as he took a few deep breaths.

you both sat there in silence. you used to talk all the time, but now this is what your interactions consisted of. pure silence. it was a miracle he was drunk now, at least that would explain it this time.

he looked at you. "you know, you do look pretty today, beautiful even,"

"you're drunk," you rolled your eyes. "you wouldn't be saying it otherwise," you said—turning to look at him as well.

"i think it all the time, did you know that, miss know-it-all?," he chuckled. "you're captivating,"

you rolled your eyes. "alright, charmer, are you actually nauseous or did you just want to talk my ear off all night?"

"i dunno, i used to do it all the time, remember? i miss it..." he mumbled.

"yeah, well, that's not exactly on me," you muttered, loud enough so he could hear it.

sirius took a deep breath, looking at you with sorrow-filled eyes. "it was the biggest mistake i've ever made, y/n,"

you looked at him softly.

"i mean, you understood me. you didn't care what baggage i had. sleeping beside you that summer was the first time i'd gotten real sleep in a long time," he admitted. "you made me feel safe... the way you'd laugh, the way you'd touch me, all of it,"

he's drunk. he's drunk. he's drunk. he's drunk. you repeated to yourself over and over. despite the feeling of your chest being ripped apart, you knew he couldn't actually mean it. yes, you loved him—more than you ever wanted to admit. but he didn't feel the same, he had showed you that much.

"let's get you to bed," you whispered. comfortingly, you grabbed his forearm and helped him up.

he followed you up the stairs, before quickly entering his dorm with him. you laid him gently on his bed, sliding his shoes off. he looked relieved that you were there, despite everything in your body telling you to just leave. he had hurt you before, he was cruel—so why were you still helping him?

you noticed him close his eyes and you turned to leave, but he sat up and grabbed your hand. you turned to him.

"i still get nightmares, especially after we broke up," he admitted. you knew about these. they were scary and heart wrenching to watch him experience. you couldn't imagine actually having them.

"will you stay until i fall asleep?" he whispered softly.

every logical part of you was screaming no. telling you to leave and not look back. but the part of you that cared—that loved him, was begging you to stay.

and unfortunately, that part that was begging won.

"yeah, sure," you whispered. you sat beside him on his bed. you folded your legs to the side and held his hand tightly as he closed his eyes.

within minutes he was asleep.

you admired him quietly as he slept. his chest rising and falling, his perfect features relaxed in a perfect way. a part of you could stay like this, watching him, forever.

but then another part of you remembered what he said—and you knew he'd never feel for you what you felt for him.

with a frown, you slowly let go of his hand and stood up—making your way quickly out of his dorm. silently, you made your way back to the slytherin dungeons, trying to ignore your heartbreak.

——

a week had passed since your incident with sirius. you had hardly spoken to him and he agreed with you it seemed—because he hasn't talked to you much either. sure, there was a snarky comment here and there, but other than that, you two managed to stay your separate ways.

you chuckled quietly, shaking your head as evan and regulus argued playfully. pandora sat beside you, rolling her eyes at the two.

lunch was soon ending, leaving you and evan to have to separate from pandora and regulus soon. you two shared a herbology class, despite him being a year younger than you. he was rather smart, doubling up in certain classes to finish them easier.

"bye, you guys," you chuckled, as you and evan walked side-by-side toward the greenhouses. you quickly pulled your emerald green tie out of your bag, tying it around you neck swiftly.

you and evan linked arms after, continuing your way to class. if it was one thing you two had, it was the ability to talk about anything and everything that had little to no importance.

"yeah, and then i told my dad—" evan began.

"y/n!" a familiar, now sober voice called out. sirius quickly walked over, as you and evan stopped and turned around. evan gave you an alarmed look but you looked at sirius.

"sirius?" you questioned as he finally caught up to the two of you.

"can i talk to you?" he mumbled.

"about?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"it's important," he assured. "please,"

you rolled your eyes. "fine, what is it?"

he looked over at evan sternly. "leave?"

you stepped in front of evan protectively. he and regulus really did feel like younger brothers to you, now that you thought about it. "don't talk to him that way," you interjected—narrowing your eyes at sirius.

"i'm fine, evan, i'll catch up to you," you said, glancing at evan before looking at sirius pointedly. evan grinned.

"i listen to her because i want to, not because of you," he told sirius pointedly. sirius rolled his eyes as evan laughed and walked off.

you looked at sirius with your arms crossed. "well?"

sirius stood in front of you awkwardly, finding it seemingly difficult to look you in the eyes. "uh, i remembered today what i did,"

you stared at him, urging him to continue. you had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

"that night at the gryffindor victory party," he added, finally mustering the courage to look you in the eye.

you shifted uncomfortably. "look, we don't have to talk about it—"

he nodded, "yes we do,"

"no, we really don't—"

"well i want to," he said sternly.

"i wasn't lying that day, yes i was drunk, but i meant it, every word of it. the way you make me feel, how safe you feel, everything..." sirius said. "pushing you away was the biggest mistake of my life, i should've never been such a coward,"

"except you didn't just push me away, you said cruel things," you replied. "sirius, you don't get to just drop that bomb on my life after destroying my feelings and expect immediate forgiveness! what you said hurt, it stung even!"

"you made me feel ashamed!" you added, hurt lacing your tone. "do you think i dealt with that easily? i fancied you, and you made me feel like i wasn't worthy of being near you. do you know how that feels?"

sirius pushed your strands of hair behind your ears, cupping your face. "and believe me, i will spend my entire life earning your forgiveness. you were never the embarrassment, i was. i'm so sorry, y/n,"

suddenly, like something had possessed you, you kissed him swiftly. you didn't know you could miss someone's touch so much.

he quickly kissed back. you pulled away.

"you still have to earn that forgiveness," you breathed out, "but this...is a good start,"

he grinned. "believe me, i will work my entire life if i have to," he chuckled, pulling you in for a tight, bone-crushing hug. one that you had missed for months now.

"believe me, i won't make it easy," you smirked.

bonus;

"do you have one in green?" you asked your husbands coworker. you were at a work party and they was handing out party bags, which everyone decided to match to their house while attending hogwarts.

your husbands coworker snorted. "what're you? a slytherin?"

you blinked at him, crossing your arms. "as a matter of fact, i am, problem?"

sirius slid his arm around your waist, kissing your head. "no problem, right alexander? my wife's a proud slytherin, no big deal," he shrugged.

alexander cleared his throat and his cheeks tinted pink. "no, of course not. here's a green one," he mumbled. you took it and he walked off, clearly embarrassed.

you turned to sirius with a smile, leaning in close. "thank you for defending my honor," you chuckled.

"well, anything for my wife," he laughed, kissing you softly.

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – PAUL INTRO

series masterlist

you can't recall the day that you first started crushing on paul.

ever since you became teammates when you were 15, you were drawn to him. something between you, paul and dino just clicked; you all became best friends instantly. every race weekend was spent bonding over shared victories, helping each other through the highs and lows, and of course fooling around like the teenagers you were. you were all inseparable.

one day, you fantasized about being with paul. just for fun, just to think about what it would be like.

it was like opening pandora's box. from that day on, you could never go back to how it was not daydreaming about paul.

it all happened so suddenly. instead of being regular teammates, you unexpectedly found yourself wishing you were more than just that. you found yourself accidentally staring at him in team meetings, your eyes following the curls of his hair and that sweet grin of his. you found yourself smiling a little too much around him, giggling at every semi-bad joke he told. and you found yourself craving his attention and approval, always longing for your next interaction with him.

it was so different – and yet, it felt like it was the only thing you'd ever known.

most people around you said that you were lucky to be a june child; getting to have your parties out in the warm weather, getting tanlines and beach visits as birthday presents, and your sunshine-filled day being longer than most others.

but personally, you never saw the joy in it. racing was usually the most hectic around your birthday, giving you no time off to celebrate or rest. the sun shining just meant more sweat in the racing suit and more degradation of your tyres.

another thing that sucks about it is that almost all of your friends' birthdays are much earlier in the year than yours.

jak got to experience being 18 for a whole month before you got to join the party; paul and dino turned 18 over a year before you did.

your two teammates even turned 19 before you could finally turn legal. not fair.

it was frustrating, and sometimes even a little humiliating. despite being mature for your age, you still hated being younger – maybe mostly because you were sure paul wouldn't find you as interesting anymore when he was suddenly all adult and you were still merely sixteen for a few more months.

but on the contrary, as the year of 2022 rolled around, he found you more interesting.

when he wanted to go out to celebrate after a good race, he always did his best to find ways to get you into the club, too. and if you weren't allowed, he would celebrate with you in another way.

he never let you feel forgotten or like you weren't his priority,

because you always were.

‎‎‎ ‎

your birthday gift for your seventeenth birthday wasn't just a beach party.

for your seventeenth birthday, paul gave you a kiss. and then another.

and then you gave him one back, as if to thank him. and from there on, there was never a doubt.

the kisses he gave you always swept you off your feet. there was something about the way his hand rested underneath your jaw, the way his nose brushed against yours before sealing your lips, the way he tilted his head to gain perfect access. something about it was so different, so special.

he may have not been your first kiss – damn that boy in your sixth-year maths class for stealing that honor from paul – but he was your first everything else.

your first real relationship. first real fight.

the first boy you ever loved; the first boy you ever cried over.

the first time you let someone see the raw, unfiltered version of yourself.

your first "i hate you!" to a boy you loved; and then your first kiss in the rain, clothes and hair soaked through, with warm tears streaming down your cheeks as you thought about how stupid you were to ever doubt being with him.

your first real brush with vulnerability.

the first boy who made you feel truly alive, yet painfully aware of your own mortality.

the first one to teach you that love isn't always easy, but it's worth suffering for.

the first person you went to for help when the world crumbled beneath you.

the first person who told you that your love was beautiful; the first person to convince you that it was so stunning it could be a masterpiece, painted with the colors of your pretty laughter and soft smiles.

‎‎‎ ‎

the first boy to ever try to climb up to your third-floor balcony in milton keynes because you were ignoring him after a fight. the first boy to ever fall down a tree after using it to climb up to said balcony. the first time you rushed down the stairs in your apartment building in less than a minute because you were so scared you almost couldn't breathe. the first time you kissed a boy's hurting wrist that he used to break his fall with after the earlier mentioned fall. the first time you ever made up with a boy on the patch of grass outside of your apartment after you both had apologized profusely, hugging more tightly than ever because you were terrified of the thought of ever losing each other.

granted, your apartment building is no skyscraper, but your balcony is many meters up in the air. only a lunatic would attempt to climb all the way up to you.

the thing is... for you, paul was a lunatic.

for that eighteenth birthday you'd longed so much for, you got an early gift.

a broken relationship.

things had been headed south for a long time. the passion wasn't strong enough of a glue to hold all of the broken pieces of your heart together anymore. things were getting too much, too heavy, too tiring.

it was just a few nights before your birthday that you sat down together in his hotel room in barcelona, both quiet for a long time. there was not much left to say.

the last few weeks had been a roller coaster; you'd cried, screamed, and made up on repeat. but you knew you couldn't go on like this.

"we're tearing each other apart," you had told him, not daring to meet his eyes. "can't you tell?"

he didn't answer.

"i'm exhausted. i need a break."

"from what? from me?"

"from everything."

and then it was over. at least, on paper it was – but in your heart? probably not.

you weren't sure if your feelings for him could ever be over.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Picasso

after months of silent pining over the boy across the hall, y/n finds herself face to face with the one person she can’t seem to get off her mind. a friendly dinner and a night spent in the art studio leads to more truth being revealed than either bargained for. a profession of attraction leads to an opportunity for an unconventional hookup, where Sam gets to make her first time unforgettable.

COLLEGE DORM AU

Read aftermath here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it, folks), virgin/virginity talk, losing virginity (sam the v card thief 🫣), praise kink, pet names, sexual anxiety/performance anxiety, soft gentle sex (fuck me up fr), fluff, swearing, anxiety, embarrassing crushes, sorry if I miss any!

😮‍💨 sorry this took so long folks. it’s a lengthy one, so prepare yourself. i got a bit carried away. soft Sam fucks me up real bad. hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

~

You weren’t sure who he was. You had no idea where he was from, what he was studying, or if he even knew you existed. Still, that didn’t seem to stop the awkward staring, or the blushing cheeks, or even the speeding heart rate every time he came into your line of vision. You hated yourself for the uncontrollable longing you felt for the boy across the hall, knowing that you would forever be too nervous to approach first. The first few months of your university experience were relatively normal; meeting friends, studying relentlessly, and trying to navigate a brand new life that was so foreign from the last. Then, after the novelty of freshman year wore off, and the hallways were routinely more empty than you’d grown used to, you started to run into him.

The first time you saw him, you almost missed him. You only noticed the back of his head as he disappeared around the corner. But, almost as if fate was playing a sick trick on you, he happened to forget something in his room. When he came back around the corner, giving you the opportunity to see his face, it felt as though you’d received a punch to the stomach. Thankfully, he was in too much of a rush to notice your staring. His long, brown hair looked messy, yet perfectly styled around his slender face. His jawline was sharp, angled gracefully into a perfect chin. The space just above held his lips, a permanent upturn in the corner adorned on them, although barely noticeable in passing. His brown eyes looked inviting, a colour you could spend all day lost in. Once he passed you, you knew it was too late; you’d already fallen for him, and there was no escape.

Perhaps it was because you came from a small town, one where all of the boys looked like the same person, just in a different font. You’d never met a boy who caught your eye quite like he did. He had a charming aura without even speaking, which was impossible to attain, according to your standards. You never really wasted time on dating, more or less finding it pointless. You were well aware there was no person to find in your town that would work out long-term. You were never a date for heartbreak type, understanding that there was no need of having a relationship if you start it with a pre-existing condition that it will inevitably end. You had a few bad experiences with the boys you’d given a chance, and never tried again. It wasn’t worth the hurt, or the trouble, so you kept to yourself. But, whatever it was about the boy across the hall, you were certain if you ever got the chance, you’d want it to last a lifetime.

After the initial shock of seeing him, you seemed to notice him everywhere. Every time you left your room, his door was open, or he was in the hallway talking to his friends. He was always running into you at meal hall, taking post in your favourite spots in the library, and even in some of your classes. You had no idea how you’d gone so long without noticing him, because now, he never ceased to exist in your mind and your life. You’d never managed to get the nerve to speak with him, or even muster a wave when he passed by. The most the two of you shared was a smile each morning; which admittedly, made your day a whole lot better every time. As unfortunate as it was, the two of you had mastered the art of remaining strangers despite the constant desire to be more.

You never verbalized your feelings to anyone, not your friends, or even yourself. You thought it was a bit ridiculous to be infatuated with someone solely based on looks. Yet, you found yourself creating a fabricated version of him, one that you deducted based on what you noticed over the passing weeks. One where he was funny, in a sarcastic or a goofy type of way. One where he was very laid back, but very involved in the lives of the people he loved. And the worst one of all; one where he was fantastic in bed. You thought it was alright to daydream, even if you would never know for certain in this lifetime.

Despite your mostly quiet pining, everybody around you was well aware of how you felt about mystery boy. Your friends seemed to take extra measures to point him out in a public setting, or ‘unintentionally’ cross paths with him. They never admitted it, but you knew what they were doing. Instead of fighting about it, which would only give them the answer they so desperately wanted from you, you laughed alongside them at the ‘strange coincidences’. Although, one thing inherently positive that came from the whole ordeal, was that you’d made acquaintance’s with his best friend, Danny. You’d found out that he was also in a few of your classes, and lived on the floor above you.

He occasionally stopped by your room for a quick chat, or some help with projects. He was friendly, and tall, and quite attractive, too. You never mentioned his friend that lived across the hall, and he didn’t, either. As far as you were concerned, your friendship with Danny would remain just as such, with no hidden implications about the beautiful boy he spent most his time with. Never once would you ever want to make him feel like you’d become friends with him just to get closer to his best friend, because you didn’t. Any hello, or how are you, or any of the conversations you’d shared had always been because you wanted to talk to him. You liked him, and just so happened to find it much easier to strike conversations with him, too.

You walked down the hallway, pushing your way through the swarms of people preparing to leave for spring break. That Friday marked the end of classes for a week, meaning that lots of people were either packing up to return home for a few days, or headed somewhere much warmer to drink themselves into oblivion. You had opted to stay for the week, finding no real desire to visit your family, and having no available funds to travel the world. All of your friends were leaving, presenting a fantastic opportunity for you to catch up on some schoolwork. You keyed into your room, dropping your bag on your bed and kicking your shoes off. You threw on your slippers and took your hair down from its clip.

You walked into your bathroom, seeing a note stuck on the mirror. You pulled it off, reading over the scribbled words. Your suite mate had left for the week, wishing you a good time and telling you she’d see you soon. You smiled, slipping it into your pocket to add to your collection of first-year memorabilia. You had an elaborate final project planned for your introductory art class, and you were collecting as many pieces to add to it as possible, wanting nothing more than to make a showstopper. You fixed your makeup in the mirror and combed through your hair with your fingers, trying to sharpen yourself up after a long day of classes. As you returned to your room, you heard a knock on your door.

When you opened it, you saw a familiar, smiling face. “Well hello.” You said, pulling the door open fully.

“Hey, Picasso.” Danny greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Just got back, actually. I stayed late at the studio. Trying to get my practical piece done for my painting class.”

“I see. Have you started the essay for poetry?” You shook your head, stomach sinking at the thought.

“I was going to start that this weekend. I just picked my topic. I’ve got a couple years worth of Shakespeare sonnets to read.” Danny was an English major, and you were an arts major, but your classes seemed to cross due to your minor in writing.

“That’s such a cop out topic,” He teased, leaning against the door frame. “And it’s spring break, aren’t you supposed to be having fun?”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, waving your hand to invite him inside. “Spring break is only fun for rich kids taking business majors.” You joked.

“Us arts kids know how to have fun, too, you know. We don’t have to get on a plane to do that.” He reminded you, walking inside and taking a seat on your bed.

“Well, what about you, then? Any big plans?”

“Frankenmuth.” He said, trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. You raised an eyebrow at him, expecting something more to the statement, but that was all he said.

“Enthralling.” You laughed, taking a seat in your desk chair. You watched the people pass by in the hallway, no real thoughts in your head. “Just you going?” You asked, eyes falling on the door closed just across from yours.

“Yeah, my friends are gonna stay here. Just thought I’d go back and visit the parents for a few days. Don’t think I’m staying the whole week.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Danny boy.” You said, flipping your laptop open that was sitting on your desk. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight, probably. I like driving at night.” You were okay with that, completely agreeing with his statement. There was something very peaceful about driving in the dark, especially when the roads are mostly barren. It was almost like time stood still. You knew the drive wasn’t too long for him, so you had faith he would be alright. “That’s why I came to see you.”

“You’re so sweet,” you grinned, opening Netflix and throwing on the most recently watched show. “Gonna miss me?”

“Of course, Picasso.” He said as if it were obvious. “Come with me, if you want.” He offered.

“You wouldn’t want me to tag along, your parents might like me too much.” He laughed at your words.

“And that’s a problem?”

“You wanna listen to them ask about me for the rest of your life?” You teased.

“Doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” He shrugged.

“You’re too nice for your own good.” You chuckled. “As much as I would love to spend reading week with you, I very much need access to an art studio and shitty, free coffee refills from the library.”

“I know,” he assured you. “If you change your mind, offers there.”

“Thanks, Danny.” You said, more sincerity in your tone than before.

“The reason I came down here though, was to see if you wanted to grab dinner with us before I leave.”

“Us?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“Yeah, me and Sam. I know you told me your friends already left, so I thought maybe you’d like some company.”

“Oh, so it’s a pity invite?” You smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“No, I want you to come. Thought that was kind of obvious.”

“Just pulling your leg.” You assured him. “Uh, who’s Sam?” You laughed, feeling a little ridiculous for not knowing. He watched you with confusion, waiting to see if you were joking.

“Sam? Kiszka? Like, the guy who lives across the hall?” He asked, completely baffled. “You don’t know Sam?”

“Oh!” Your cheeks turned crimson. “Yeah, I know who he is. That’s your best friend, right?” Danny nodded. “Yeah, I know him. Just didn’t know his name. Never really spoke to the guy.” You laughed, trying to pass off the awkwardness.

“Fuck, y/n, I thought you guys knew each other! I’m sorry I didn’t introduce him to you.”

“No! Don’t be sorry, Danny.” You waved it off. “I never brought it up, either.”

“That’s weird though, cause he definitely knows you. He knew who you were when I mentioned we were working together on that last poetry assignment. I was under the impression that you guys were neighbourly.” He shrugged, confusion still lingering in his features.

“Oh, uh… I guess my names on my whiteboard. Maybe that’s why. He’s definitely seen me around. We smile at each other and stuff in the halls, but that’s about it.” Danny eyed you almost as if he didn’t believe you.

“Well, he seems pretty fond of you for someone he only smiles at in the hallway.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks again, embarrassed even at the thought of him mentioning your name. “You do know him, don’t you?”

“No, I swear I’m telling you the truth.” You raised your hands in defence. He watched you, scanning your face for a hint of a lie. After a second, his expression lit up.

“You have a crush on him!” He bellowed, feeling accomplished for finally solving the mystery. Your head whipped to the open door, making sure nobody was in the hallway.

“Shut up!” You hissed, making a move to shut the door. “I do not!” You said once you protected the privacy.

“That’s a lie, Picasso.” He let out a disapproving tsk.

“I don’t even know the guy.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s attractive, but I can’t exactly like someone I don’t know.”

“Sure you can, and you do.” He grinned. “And you’ll like him even more after dinner tonight.” He decided.

“So now I don’t have a choice if I go or not?”

“No, not at all. I’ll leave you to get ready. He should be back around 6.” Danny stood, not willing to hear any protests.

“Danny, if you say anything to him, I swear to god I will kill-“

“Lips are sealed, Picasso. See you at six.” He sent you a wink before disappearing out the door. You felt your stomach twist in knots, nervous that Danny was going to mention something to him.

You distracted yourself by scouring your closet for something acceptable to wear. You cursed him for leaving so soon; he didn’t even tell you where you were going. You had no idea if you should dress nice, or casual. As you checked the time, you decided that somewhere in the middle would be suitable. A nice shirt and a pair of black jeans, just to dress it down a bit. You went to the bathroom and quickly ran your curling iron through your hair with no real effort, just to give it a bit of volume. You brushed your teeth and touched up your makeup again, spritzing on some perfume before you walked back to your room. You threw on some jewelry, deciding if you were going to properly meet mystery boy, or Sam, rather, you were going to make a good first impression.

When the clock struck six, there was an insistent knock on your door. When you opened it, Danny was beaming down at you once more. “You clean up good, Picasso.” He complimented. Rarely did he ever see you out of your studio clothes; you were always covered in paint, or plaster, or some other sort of artistic expression. You spent more time in the studio than you did anywhere else. Of course, the workload was heavy even for first year, but you spent a lot of free time there, too. It was great for your mental health, and aside from your projects, you made smaller pieces to sell on the side. Unlimited access to art tools was a huge benefit to going to the university you chose, and your talent allowed you to make some extra money. Making a living off something you loved to do made your university experience a million times better.

“Thanks, Daniel.” You laughed. “Ready to go?” You asked.

“Yeah, you?” You nodded. You threw on a denim jacket, finishing off the outfit. You joined Danny in the hall, looking around to spot Sam. When you didn’t see him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment.

“Where are we going?” You asked, distracting yourself from the feeling.

“There’s this little Italian restaurant downtown. I’ve been meaning to try it, but never got around to it. Figured tonight was as good as any other night. Is that cool with you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not picky.” You assured him.

“Awesome.” He breathed, making a move to the other side of the hallway. He stood before Sam’s door, sending a knock echoing through the air. Within a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal the boy you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His hair was slightly damp, and the smell of his shampoo hit you almost instantly. He pointed at you without a word, causing you to shoot him a nervous look. He got a small laugh at your reaction.

“You copied my outfit.” He accused, a goofy smile etched onto his expression. You looked down at what you were wearing, then back to him. You were both wearing Jean jackets with a black base layer. After a second, you laughed, too.

“Guess so.” You shrugged, trying to ignore the incessant butterflies running rampant in your stomach. “I’m y/n,” you held a hand out to shake.

“Sam.” He said, reciprocating the gesture. “I guess we’ve never properly introduced ourselves.” He noted.

“Not very neighbourly of us, was it?” You chuckled. His eyes lingered over you, taking in the whole sight before humming an agreement. You desperately tried to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks, but failed miserably. You hoped he didn’t notice.

“I hear from Daniel that you’re quite the artist.” He said, the smile never leaving his face. At his words, the redness on your cheeks completely took over, leaving no doubt that he could see it.

“Modern day Picasso, actually.” Danny corrected.

“You’ll have to show me, sometime.” Sam’s tone was soft, no tone of sarcasm present.

“Maybe I can sneak you into the studio someday.” You offered.

“It’s a date, then.” He said it so effortlessly, like the words meant nothing, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

“G-guess so,” you tried to cover up your stutter, but they certainly noticed. You were thankful they didn’t comment on it. Sam stepped into the hallway, closing his door behind him. The three of you ventured towards the exit of the building without another word.

The evening was cool, but not unbearable. By the time you’d walked to the restaurant, you had managed to shake some of the nervousness off. The small chatter and jokes eased the tension by miles, allowing you to enjoy the company rather than fear embarrassment. Danny went inside first, Sam holding the door open for both of you. You muttered a small thank you, disappearing inside of the building. The smell of the food was fantastic, and the decoration and atmosphere was incredibly inviting. Danny noticed a ‘seat yourself’ sign, taking it open himself to lead the group to a booth. He slid in one side and you sat across from him. Sam looked between the two seats, ultimately deciding to sit next to you. The booth was tiny, and as he settled and got comfortable, his leg was gently resting against yours. You felt your heart speed, trying not to focus on the constant contact.

You all ordered after taking a good look over the menu. As you were waiting, Sam turned to you to speak. “So, Picasso,” he started. You turned your head to look at him, strangely pleased at the way the nickname sounded on his tongue. “Any travel plans for the week?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “Love them, but my family drives me crazy, and I have too much work to get done to go anywhere else.” You admitted. “You?”

“No, I thought it was best to stay, too. I get what you mean about the family thing. Love them to death, but peace and quiet is nice, sometimes.” He chuckled. “Daniel will have to go on the journey alone.”

“So you guys are from the same town?” You looked between the two. They both nodded.

“Yeah, best friends since, what, middle school?” Danny laughed.

“Pretty much.” Sam agreed.

“That’s cool, actually. Nice that you guys have a piece of home here with you.”

“What about you? Any piece of home here?” You shook your head.

“No, and thank god there isn’t. Wanted to get the hell out of my hometown and start over. It’s worked so far.” You explained.

“Where are you from?” Sam asked, now intrigued.

“Arizona. Small town in the middle of nowhere, where everybody looks and acts the same and you get chastised if you’re any different.”

“Mind-numbing.” He replied. You nodded, unable to agree more. “Everybody needs originality.”

“Not them, apparently. I couldn’t wait to leave, and I never want to go back.” You almost shuddered at the thought.

“So where after this?” Sam never let his eyes leave you, as if he wanted to engrave every detail of your face in his mind.

“Uh, wherever, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it. I may travel for a while if I can before I commit to anywhere.”

“Smart woman,” he gave a small smile. “Know your options before you settle down.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could look at it that way.” Your conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing drinks and setting them in front of you. You sipped from your straw, pondering what to speak about, next. “What are you taking, Sam?” You suddenly remembered you hadn’t asked him, yet.

“Oh, music theory.” He said. You eyed him in shock, not expecting that answer.

“What instrument?”

“Piano, on the paper at least.” He laughed. “I like playing bass and guitar more, but I figured they’d be more likely to accept me with piano as my focus.”

“Smart move.” You pondered the information for a moment. “Listen to this one,” you caught both of their attention. “So, Picasso, Shakespeare and Billy Joel walk into an Italian restaurant,” you started, causing a chorus of laughter from both boys.

“You play a piano once and you can never escape the Billy Joel jokes.” Sam shook his head, ghost of a laugh still lingering on his lips. You couldn’t help but admire him, feeling the overwhelming curiosity of wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“You’ll be alright, piano man.” Danny assured him.

“Yeah, you can even sing us a song, if you want. That might make you feel better.” He shot you a look of warning, but there was visible humour laced in it. The both of you were feeling the nervous tension melt away more by the second.

The time passed too quickly for your liking; the meal was fantastic and the company was even better. When the time to leave came around, you were begging the clock just for another minute. You had spent the whole night beating yourself up for not getting over your fear and speaking with Sam sooner. Aside from him being incredibly attractive, he was funny, and charming, and quite sweet, too. You felt like you’d missed out on a lot. Even if nothing romantic happened, you’d could consider yourself content just being his friend. When the waitress brought the bills over, Sam took it upon himself to ensure you couldn’t get your hands on the debit machine. As you all filtered back outside into the cool night air, your feeling of nervousness returned. Looking at Sam, how the glow from the street lights casted over his face, how his hair flowed in solidarity, messy but perfect all in one, made you realize that knowing him only made the desire so much stronger.

Somewhere deep down you hoped he was an asshole, so you could finally shake the hopeless feeling of need for him. The more you talked to him, the more you fell for the goofiness of his aura, the humour he wore so proudly, or the kindness permanently anchored behind his words. He was more than just a pretty face, and to you, it was devastating. The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone, but you were well aware that it had happened long before your night of pasta critique. “You headed back to dorm?” Sam asked, his hand on your upper arm breaking you from your thoughts. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off your brains’ incessant reminders of what it felt like to be touched by him.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I’m headed out, now, I think.” Danny said, looking between the two of you. “Packed the car earlier, so I should hit the road.”

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to keep your eyes on him, and him only. “Which lot are you parked in?”

“The one by our building. I’ll walk back with you guys.” You nodded at his words, feeling a sudden rush of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk alone with Sam. Not that you would mind being alone with him, more of a fear of embarrassing yourself somehow. The three of you started the short walk with few words exchanged in the process. When you reached the entrance to the parking lot, you all stopped to bid a farewell.

Danny pulled you into a quick hug, thanking you for going to dinner. He hugged Sam, letting him know he’d text him when he was back home. “Might text for poetry help.” You smiled at him.

“You could text me just to say hi, too, you know.” Danny reminded.

“That is my way of saying hi.” You laughed. “Too nervous to be upfront.”

“No need for that, Picasso. I’ll see you guys soon.” He promised. You and Sam waved goodbye as he parted from the trio, leaving the two of you to yourselves. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, wanting to look anywhere other than his beautiful face.

“You have anywhere to be?” Sam eventually spoke. You found the courage to meet his eyes, feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach once more.

“I was thinking about heading to the studio, actually.” You very much enjoyed your 24/7 access to the art building. It made your usually boring weekends a bit more enjoyable.

“Care for some company?” He smiled.

“You trying to get me in trouble, piano man?” You smirked.

“Nobody will ever know I was there.” He promised. You pondered the idea, realizing that it was more than likely nobody would be there, anyway. It was usually quite barren in the evenings, even more so considering the week-long holiday.

“Okay.” You nodded, holding your hand out for him to grab. “Come on.” He wasted no time slipping his hand into yours. You took off in a run back to the dorm with him following closely behind. You both made it to the front entrance of the building, keying in and immediately running to your rooms. “I just have to change.” You told him before disappearing into your room. You quickly changed into your work clothes, realizing how embarrassing the new outfit was. There was old paint stains on the t-shirt and jeans, years worth of artistic memories begging to be washed away. You didn’t waste too much time dwelling, too eager to be back in Sam’s company.

You were nervous to be alone with him, but the thrill of seclusion with him was overshadowing anything else. You thought maybe you’d be able to unravel some of the mystery, to get a chance to hear about his stories and memories that were hidden away. When you went back into the hallway, Sam was waiting for you. He had also changed into different clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a tattered old band shirt with the logo worn down to just a shadow. He had a sly smile graced his lips. “Ready?” You breathed. He gave a nod, silently hoping you’d reach out for his hand again. When you started walking down the hall, he followed after you, only momentary disappointment taking over.

You walked side by side to the art building, buzzing with unspoken excitement. When you reached the doorway, you scanned your access card on the reader and the lock clicked open. As you pulled on the handle, you looked back at him and pressed a finger to your lips, signalling for him to stay quiet, just in case anyone else was around. Regular students were allowed in the art building during office hours, but art students were the only ones granted access outside of normal school times. You were sure you’d only get a slap on the wrist if someone realized he wasn’t an art student, but you still didn’t want to take the chance. He nodded, ensuring he wouldn’t make a peep. You took his hand again, leading him inside and directly to the stairwell to the basement.

You took a sigh of relief when you let the studio door close behind you. You went right to your small locker where you stored your paint supplies and brushes. You unlocked it with a tiny key you kept around your neck. You pulled out your belongings, nodding Sam in the direction of the main room. The bright fluorescent lights were nothing new to you, but it seemed like it almost caught him off guard. You set your stuff down on a desk and grabbed an easel, carrying it over to where you were planning to sit. “I’ll be right back.” You told him, walking off to a side room. You opened the door, flicking the light on in the small storage space. You grabbed your large canvas, careful not to bump the front of it, worried it still may not have completely dried. You took it back out to the main room and propped it up on the easel, pulling a stool in front of it.

Sam moved a second chair over, sitting beside you. His eyes drifted over the artwork, scanning it intently and drinking up every detail like he needed it to survive. “I see why Danny calls you Picasso, now.” He mumbled, still looking over all of the details. You felt the redness creep up on your cheeks again, flattered at his compliment. “This place anything special to you, or just a stock photo?” There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, the cabin is. It’s my family’s. We spent a lot of time up there when I was a kid. The background is pretty dramatized, cause my inspiration pictures were a little bland.” You chuckled. “We’ve been working on landscapes, so I figured I would paint something meaningful.” The large oil painting had the image of the aforementioned cabin nestled in a plot of trees. The leaves were radiating the colours of autumn, and the neutral mountains in the background made the colours stand out. A small stream flowed through the mountain valley, and birds floated through the air. There were patches of flowery grass and bushes covering the ground. The outline was finished, and you’d been working on the intimate details of the piece. You were estimating only a few more hours of work, eager to have this finished so you could move on to the next project.

“It’s stunning.” He said, moving back to look at you again.

“Thanks,” your voice was soft, full of gratitude.

“Have you always wanted to be an artist?” He asked. You thought about the question, pondering the appropriate answer.

“I always loved art, but don’t think I actually decided to study it until late into high school. I never thought I’d be able to make it, but then I entered a few contests and won, and I guess it kind of kick started the process of getting here. At first, my parents weren’t super supportive of the idea. I think they’d rather me be a doctor or a lawyer, but they knew it would only make me miserable. Now that they see what I’m doing, and how happy it makes me, they’re a bit more on board. Their encouragement really helped me feel like I was supposed to be here.” You explained. “Deep down, I probably always knew I would do art for a living, but I fought it for a long time. It’s not really regarded as a ‘profession’, and I think that discouraged me for a long time.”

“Don’t ever feel that way again.” He shook his head, looking back towards the canvas. “Someone with talent like this should never second guess themselves.” You swallowed hard, having a difficult time digesting such a compliment. “This is the type of stuff to end up in galleries.”

“You’ll have to let me design your album art when you release your EP, then.” You smiled.

“You haven’t even heard me play yet.” He brushed the comment off, a small laugh lingering in his words.

“Don’t have to, I just know.” You said, pulling out your glass palate. You sifted through your bag of paints, choosing the colours carefully. You squeezed small amounts on the surface, looking back towards the large painting. You started to work, unsure of where the conversation would lead to next.

“What music do you like?” He asked, watching your hands as you painted.

“Everything.” You said, never losing your focus. “Not picky.”

“You have to have a favourite.” He inquired. A smile tugged at your lips.

“Well, yeah.” You rolled your eyes.

“What is it, then?” He laughed, eyes moving to your face.

“Guess.” You thought if he wanted to get to know you, he could work for it, first. At least a little bit.

“You’re a classical person, aren’t you?” You looked at him through the corner of your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“Insulting,” you replied. “You think I’m that boring?” You teased.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged. “Rock?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I like metal, too, but I mostly stick with rock.”

“Never would have guessed the metal part.” His surprise was showing in his expression.

“Yeah, well, I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.” You chuckled, wiping your brush on your apron.

“Can’t wait to figure them out.” His words were smooth, concise, even, as if he was waiting to deliver the line the whole night. Your stomach fluttered with the thought of him wanting to know more about you. You both fell into a silence, eventually playing music off your phone to fill the stale air. You were fine without words exchanged; you enjoyed him sitting with you while you worked. He didn’t seem to mind either, enthralled in your technique. “What’s your favourite thing to paint?” He eventually disturbed the quiet.

“I like nature. It’s always so calming to recreate. So many different options, and imperfections don’t cause an issue, because nature isn’t perfect. I think that’s what makes it beautiful.” You explained. He nodded along, hoping you would keep talking. You noticed, feeling less reserved about your ramblings, realizing you wanted to share them with him. “Nature is the only constant. It was here from the beginning, and it will be here long after we die, even if it’s changed million times. It carries infinite memories from every era, and it’s our only consistency in this lifetime, and the ones previous. I like the idea of a timeless art piece. If someone looks at this a hundred years from now, they’ll be able to appreciate it the same way we can. Nobody will have to wonder about the origins of the picture. People die, animals pass, but the earth always outlives us. When the day comes and it dies, too, we go with it.” He nodded again, studying your face. He had been for a while, although you hadn’t really noticed. He was watching the way your eyes focused when you were doing delicate work, or how your lips pursed when your brush wasn’t doing exactly what you wanted it to. He also noticed every time you let out a minuscule sigh, content with the flow of the paint, or when you smiled when a familiar song came on the shuffle. He’d been studying you just as much as you did, him, admiring you just the same. He was enthralled in your presence, also never expecting to have you this close to him.

The art of your silent admiration had left little room for belief of a chance for it to happen so intimately. He was basking in the moment, in you. The smell of the paint and your perfume was embedding the memory in his brain forever. The beauty in your passion was electrifying, and he was certain he could watch it all day. He also felt the same when he passed you in the hallways, and caught himself peeking into your room when you had the door open. He felt the same fluster when you smiled at him, and awaited the conversations when Danny spoke your name. He also struggled with the idea of talking to you first, worried about rejection or embarrassment. From what he’d seen, you never showed an inkling of interest, and he didn’t want to come off in the wrong way. When Danny brought the idea of inviting you to dinner, he nearly jumped at the opportunity. Sam’s feelings had also remained quite silent, although his childhood best friend was quick to catch on to the situation. Now with a promise to both of you that your emotions would be kept a secret, it was up to both of you to figure things out. All Danny could do was cheer you on from both sides. “You’ve got a beautiful way of seeing the world.” He noted.

“If you don’t love the earth, you can’t expect it to love you back.” You said, finally turning to look over at him. You were caught off guard at his proximity, noticing he had definitely moved closer since you’d started working. He was sitting a little ahead of you, but his body was turned to be angled towards you. When he caught your surprised look, he gave a small smile.

“I thought you wanted to come and see the art, Sam.” You teased, finding the confidence to make a quick pass about his position.

“I’m looking at it.” He quipped back without a moment of hesitation. You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find any words, flustered at the proclamation. Without another word, he turned to look back at the canvas, leaving you to wonder if his words were satire, or if they had meaning. You took a few seconds to recover, but ultimately pushed the statement to the back of your mind. You continued on, dabbing blots of paint onto the picture and blending it gently. “You know, if you’re looking for a customer, I’d be happy to take this off your hands when you’re finished.”

“You couldn’t afford me, Kiszka.” You joked, using the tip of your finger to get a better blend on a saturated area. You fixed it up with a brush afterwards.

“You think so?” He hummed, not bothering to turn and face you.

“I know so.” You told him, wiping your hand on the apron. You weren’t sure if it was the months of tension catching up to you, or the exhaustion, or the smell of his cologne, but you were desperate for him to turn and face you again. “If you want it, it’s yours.” You breathed, deciding to drop the facade. “Once it’s graded, I have nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you want for it?” He asked, still facing away from you.

“Free, for you.” You said softly, a smile creeping up on you.

“Absolutely not.” He turned now, finally meeting your eyes. “You worked hard on it, you used your own materials. I’m giving you something for it.” He said, finality dripping in his tone. You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, the authority sending a pleasant jolt of electricity through you.

“Think of it as a token of friendship.” You whispered, unable to stop yourself from looking over his features. The admiration in your eyes was impossible to overlook.

“Friendship?” He questioned after a moment of silence, a new sense of confidence washing over him. “Ouch,” he said, the same cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. You bit the inside of your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You weren’t so willing to fall for the idea that he may have felt the same way. Instead of turning away, he watched you, hoping you’d make a notion of reciprocation. After the shock wore off, you started to understand that he was being serious.

“Courtship?” You corrected yourself, feeling your heart drumming against your chest.

“I think I like that better,” he whispered, eyes falling down to your lips for a second before correcting himself. “Do you?”

“I certainly don’t have an issue with it.” You admitted. He watched you carefully, almost as if he was nervous to advance the situation any further. After a moment of deliberation, he reached his hand up and cupped your cheek, using his thumb to wipe off a smudge of paint.

“Some paint,” he informed you.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes never leaving him. “Did you get it all?” He inspected further, tucking some hair behind your ear as he did so.

“Mm, I think I missed a spot.” He deducted. You set your palate and brush on the table, not wanting to miss a moment of him. He advanced further, but only slightly, pretending to look harder. You couldn’t fight back a smile. “Want me to get it?” He looked back up at your eyes, hand never moving from your cheek.

“Okay,” you nodded, playing into his act.

“You sure?” He asked again, mostly to tease, but he also wanted to ensure you were comfortable.

“Positive.” You promised. Without wasting any more time, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was soft, but his lips felt like they were burning into your skin. You reached your own hand out, letting it fall to the back of his neck. You pulled him closer, careful not to get any paint on his clothes in the process. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for more. You were quick to respond, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped to your hip, letting his fingers gently sink into the skin. When he pulled away, you were both breathless and craving more. He let his forehead rest on yours, dreading putting any more distance between your bodies. You gave a smile, unsure of what else you could do to express how you felt. It was like months of torture finally derived into pleasure. No more watching him as he walked past, wondering about his name or what it would be like to say it, or hear him say yours. No more wondering what it felt like to be kissed by him, because now, you knew, and it was way better than you ever imagined. “I’m not sure if I got it.” He admitted, causing a giggle from you. He pulled you in for another kiss, this one shorter and more lighthearted.

“Is it gone?” You asked, intoxicated from the feeling of his lips.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Yeah, just because I’d like to kiss you again, though.” His thumb trailed over your cheek as he rested his hand on your jaw. He placed a small peck on your lips, causing you to hum in satisfaction. “I wanted to do that for a really long time.” You said. He pulled back a bit, taking in your expression.

“Me, too.” He chuckled.

“Really?” He gave a nod.

“Since the first time I saw you.”

“Me, too.” You copied his earlier statement. “It’s been a long couple months of admiring you from a distance.”

“Why’d you never say anything?” He questioned, hand still keeping a delicate hold on your face.

“I was scared. Thought maybe you’d think I was weird, or you’d be an asshole. You’re too pretty to be nice, too. It’s not fair.” You laughed. “I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”

“How could I not?” He was almost offended at the thought. You shrugged your shoulders. “You’re the only person I’ve been looking at.” You felt your cheeks heat up again, angry that you couldn’t hide your emotion. “Danny’s been begging me to talk to you for weeks, but I guess I was scared, too.” It clicked in your brain, suddenly making sense why he was so excited when you told him you thought Sam was cute.

“Doesn’t matter,” You told him “We know now.” He nodded, agreeing silently. “Did you want to go back to my room, maybe?” You realized your statement was a bit forward only after you’d said it, but you didn’t really care. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about moving too fast, or any what-if’s. Your small amount of worry was subsided when he immediately stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it, letting him help you stand.

Both of you made quick work at cleaning up the mess you made, buzzing with excitement at the idea of being alone together. Within a few minutes, you had his hand in yours, and you were guiding him back through the unfamiliar building. You checked the main floor before you emerged, making sure there was no security checking out the place. You knew they could be assholes, and almost always asked for an access pass. When you deducted the coast was clear, you pulled him through the lobby and out the front door. You were both in a fit of giggles by the time you reached the dorm building, fumbling with keycards to let yourselves in. The hallways were barren, almost all of the students already gone for their spring trips. It made your journey all the faster, allowing you to make it to your room in record time without any interruption.

You opened the door for him, motioning got him to go inside first. He did so, eyes immediately taking in the sight. He’d caught glimpses of your room, but never got the chance to really see it. There was artwork plastered over the walls, some yours and some from your friends, or even reprints of famous artists. There were ambient lights bordering the ceilings, set to a constant colour. There were paintbrushes and textbooks littering your desk, along with a few empty coffee cups. There were a plethora of Polaroids hung on your bulletin board, a receipt book of memories from the lifetime he wanted to so badly know about. The smell of your perfume lingered in the air and your bed, although messy, looked extraordinarily inviting.

You gave him a small smile, nervous about what he was thinking. “I love it in here.” He said, almost like he could read your mind. You let out a small sigh of relief. His eyes drifted towards the small clay sculptures you’d been messing around with. He leaned closer, smiling at the intricate detail.

“You should come over more often, then.” You smiled.

“I think you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me, now.” He laughed. The sound was more beautiful than any you’d heard before.

“Fine by me.” You admitted. “I’m gonna change out of these. Just give me a minute.” He nodded, watching you as you picked some clothes from your closet. You brought them to the bathroom, changing into the shorts and t-shirt. You looked at yourself in the mirror, nearly wincing at the sight. You quickly fixed your makeup with your fingers and brushed your teeth. You sprayed a bit more perfume on the new clothes, and rejoined him. He was still standing awkwardly by your desk, unsure of where to sit. “You can sit on the bed.” You smiled, finding the timidity cute.

“Oh, okay.” He said, looking towards the mattress and sitting down.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You asked.

“Sure.” He grinned. You went to your laptop, quickly logging in and pulling up Netflix. “I don’t care what we watch.” He admitted. You put on one of the first recommended movies, turning the volume up slightly. You climbed into bed next to him, propping a pillow against the wall and leaning back. He did the same, settling next to you, much closer than anyone else would normally sit.

The intro credits rolled for the movie, giving you a moment to relax from the close proximity. You leaned into him slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. You pulled your comforter over your legs, snuggling into the warmth. You let your hand rest on top of the blanket as you eyed his sitting in his lap. You’d been on dates, but not once since you moved away from your hometown had you felt so adolescent in romance. It felt like you were going through the motions for the first time, completely blind in knowledge. You had no idea how to approach him, how to initiate any of the intimacy you’d been yearning for. You hadn’t noticed you were staring at him, but he certainly did. He looked over to you, giving you a small, soft smile. In response, it made your heart skip a beat.

He took the opportunity to reach over and slip his hand into yours, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The contact immediately subsided your anxiety, and you finally felt the ability to focus on the screen. After a few moments, you even found the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. The both of you watched the movie in silence, his thumb rubbing small circles over the back of your hand while you did so. As the film progressed, so did your comfortability. By the middle of it, you both had shifted dramatically. He was laying down, and you were resting atop of him, head nestled in his chest. His palm was firmly planted on your lower back, and his other gently tracing shapes into your arm. If you weren’t so energized from being so close to him, you were certain you could fall asleep in that position.

His hand that was on your arm moved to your face, fingers gently pushing your hair away. You closed your eyes, revelling in the feeling. He gently combed through the knots before settling his hand back on your cheek. He guided you to look up at him, sending a smile your way. You returned it, thinking that you would be fine if his face was the only one you could ever see again. “Thanks for inviting me over.” He said, admiring every feature. He knew that you were beautiful from every time he’d seen you before that night, but he realized that he’d been missing out on the best part. Having you laying with him, sleepiness laced in your eyes, made him realize that there was never a time where you were more beautiful. The innocent intimacy was overwhelming in the best possible way, leaving him to believe he could die happy as long as he got to hold you.

“It’s crazy, you know.” You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him.

“Hmm?” He replied, fingers dancing in the ends of your hair.

“I spent so long with this stupid little crush. I think because of it, I kind of put you on a pedestal. I forgot you were a person, too. I never believed that I could ever be with you like this. It always felt impossible.”

“I did the same thing.” He admitted, feeling better about it knowing you felt that way, too. “It’s weird. Dating in college is so much different than high school.” He chuckled. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“It feels more… adult. In high school, I had to ask my parents permission to go on a date. Now, I can just invite you over whenever I want.” You thought aloud. “But I don’t feel any different. I still feel the same as I did a year ago.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s strange, knowing that we’re supposed to be adults, now. Especially when I still feel like a kid.”

“I think it’s a good buffer period,” you shrugged. “Pretend to be adults, get the experience, but still be able to make mistakes and learn from them. We get to practice living alone and being responsible, but still get to do stupid shit.” He laughed at your comment, but understood your point.

“I like you, Picasso.” He said, his hand landing on the back of your neck. You smiled at the words.

“I like you, too.” You admitted, eyes trailing over his face in admiration.

“I think it would be cool if we could do stupid shit and learn from our mistakes… together.” He mumbled, gaze focused only on you.

“What are you saying, Billy Joel?” You smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I’m saying,” he paused, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “I would like to do this…. more often.” He articulated his words carefully, a bit nervous to say them.

“I think that would be quite alright.” You deducted. He visibly relaxed at your confirmation. “I… uh, I’m not good at this stuff.” You admitted.

“That’s okay.” He said, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. He gently massaged his fingers over your scalp, causing a slight hum of pleasure from you. “That’s part of the making mistakes and learning from them, right?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, entranced in the feeling of him touching you. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend, or anything like that. Been on a few dates, but they ended pretty terribly.” You admitted. He cocked his head to the side, studying you as you spoke. “Like I said before, all of the boys from my hometown are all the same. I learned my lesson, and I realized nothing meaningful would ever come from it, so I just… didn’t.”

“You can talk about it, if you want.” He offered.

“There’s really not much to talk about.” You told him, remembering back to your high school years. “I don’t know if it was just the type of people that lived in the town, or if it was a teenage boy thing, but they just cared about getting laid and nothing more. It was unbearable, and I fell for it a few times, but nobody ever cared about me past the surface. I’ve never met a boy who wanted to know me like you do, or would even admit that they liked me out loud, for that matter. Nobody has ever asked me questions about myself, or my art. It was nice being seen as a person rather than a body.” You muttered the last part, hating saying it aloud.

“They have no idea what they missed out on, then.” He said, bringing you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve only known you, well, really known you, for a day. I already know that I’d be more than lucky to have a chance with you.” Your cheeks turned red, luckily covered by the darkness of the room this time. “They didn’t deserve you. Nobody should make you feel like you can only be loved in privacy. You’re worth more than that.” Your eyes fluttered up to meet his as your brain wondered if the interaction was real, or a grandly fabricated dream. You leaned forward, unable to satiate the need to kiss him again.

He accepted the gesture enthusiastically, using his hands to pull you impossibly closer. You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. After a moment, you couldn’t help but want more. You shifted, trying your best not to break the kiss, placing both of your legs on either side of him. He broke away for a second, just long enough to prop himself up against the wall so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He wasted no time, capturing you in another kiss. His hands found your hips, fingers holding you firmly but delicately all at once. You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, holding him like you were scared he would get away from you. When you pulled back, you were both breathless with stars dancing in your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He said quickly, mind still occupied with the thought of kissing you. “I’m okay if we just lay here and talk.”

“I want to if you do.” You assured him, finally feeling the months of tension reach the breaking point.

“Are you sure?” He asked, searching your face for an honest answer.

“Positive.” You promised, making sure he saw you were being genuine. “I just… I’ve never…yeah.” You trailed off, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He watched you, trying to piece together what you were saying. “I’ve never had sex.” You blurted out, realizing he wasn’t fully understanding you. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, but never…” you breathed, your face burning for a whole new reason.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He reached his hand to your face, keeping your head straight so you would look at him. You were a virgin in all technical terms, only having awkward sexual experiences and moments with failed flings in high school. It wasn’t a virtue thing, more of a feeling of never finding the right person. With him, you felt comfortable, and were certain that it would be enjoyable. You didn’t have to have experience to assume that. You could tell just by looking at him, by how he spoke to you. He cared about your comfortability, and that was a major green flag. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone was firm.

“No, I want to.” You said quickly, making sure he knew. “I just… I want you to have a good time, and I’m just nervous, I think. I don’t want to… disappoint.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the blasphemous idea.

“Yeah, that’s not even a possibility.” He shut the fear down almost as soon as it sprouted. “I’m gonna have a good time because I’m with you.” He promised. “I don’t expect anything, or anything like that. I’m more concerned with you having a good time.” He said, bringing your face down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Make sure you enjoy yourself.” He mumbled, his mouth only millimetres away from your own. “That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, giving a small nod. You could feel his smile from as he kissed you again.

“You can tell me to stop, or slow down, or whatever you need at any point, okay?” He explained when he pulled back. You nodded. “You can tell me what you like, too. Don’t be shy.” You nodded again. “I need to hear the words, baby.”

“Okay.” You verbally confirmed. He tapped your thigh, silently letting you know he wanted you to get up. You did so, allowing him to move over to the side.

“Lay down for me,” he said, his tone had authority but it was incredibly soft, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You laid back, eyes locked on his face. You were still anxious, but he was easing it more by the second. He turned onto his side to face you, guiding your face to his once more and connecting your mouths. You kissed him back with more neediness than before, excited by the idea of his hands on you. He slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, letting them dance over your skin so you could grow accustom to the feeling.

As he became familiar with the feeling of your body, he took his chance to deepen the kiss. You couldn’t help but let a few small moans of delight out, only fuelling him further. He went slow, working you up to speed. He didn’t want to rush you, or push you too far. He let you take the lead with progressing any further, waiting until you made a move to take an article of clothing away. When you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he moved back from you so he could pull it over his head. You let your eyes fall over his exposed torso, feeling your stomach flutter at the sight. He smiled at your expression, but didn’t say a word in fear of you feeling embarrassed. He made a move towards your waistband, watching your eyes intently as he did so. You gave him a nod of encouragement, letting him know you were okay. He hooked his fingers through the sides and slowly pulled the shorts from your body. You sat up and removed your shirt, too.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you in just your undergarments, having to do for a moment just to appreciate the view. “Gorgeous,” he hummed, lowering his head to you once more. He left a trail of gentle kisses across you collarbones, letting his hands trail over your exposed thighs. The minuscule touches were driving you crazy; you had no idea it could feel so good to be admired by someone. His lips moved downward, skipping over your chest and landing on your sternum. He started to get sloppier the further he progressed downwards. By the time he reached your navel, you were practically a mess. He looked up at you, eyelids heavy, taking in every detail of you. The way your chest rose and fell while you breathed, the way your lips stayed slightly parted, the way your hand felt tangled in his hair. It was driving him crazy.

He moved up again, motioning for you to lift your back from the bed. You did as he wanted, allowing him to snake his arms around you and unclasp your bra. He pulled it from your body, discarding it carelessly on the floor. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when he finally saw the full view. He was nestled between your legs, one hand planted beside you on the mattress, holding him up upright. His other hand returned to you, resting on your rib cage as light as a feather. He looked to you for permission before doing anything else. “I’m okay, I promise. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” You appreciated his consideration, but you were beginning to feel a bit desperate for more. He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand to your breast and brushed his thumb lightly over your hardened nipple.

The feeling was new, but very welcomed. The small touch sent a jolt of emotion through you. You watched him intently, anticipating his next movement. He brought his mouth to your nipple and pulled it into his mouth. You let out a shaky exhale at the sensation. He flicked his tongue over it a few times, really becoming familiar with you. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the loss of contact. He smiled at your sigh of discontent. “Feel good?” He hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He sat upright on his knees, bringing both of his hands to your hips and hooking his fingers through your underwear. You bit the inside of your lip, enthusiastic but still a bit nervous. You lifted your hips from the bed, allowing him to pull them off with ease. He tossed them to the floor, not caring where they landed. He was only concerned with you, now fully naked and laying beneath him. He caught sight of your face, noticing that your eyes were looking away from him.

“Hey,” he whispered. You finally found the courage to look up at him. “You okay, beautiful?” You were glad he disregarded your earlier statement, finding it much easier to communicate with him if he initiated it.

“Yeah, just nervous. It’s nothing you’re doing.” You promised.

“You want to stop?” You shook your head, unable to think of a worse idea. He didn’t immediately jump back to action at the expression, but spoke again after a few moments. “We’ll go slow, okay? This is for you. I wanna give you a good time.” You felt a smile growing on your lips at his words.

“Okay,” you affirmed. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You felt like you could live in that moment forever.

“Don’t have to be shy, or nervous. Promise I’m gonna take care of you.” He said as he pulled away. “Just tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to. You’re in charge.” You managed another nod as he sunk back between your legs. He laid on his stomach, head inches from your heat. You felt the anxiety lingering, but it was rapidly overtaken by excitement. He placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs, one arm snaked under one of your legs and gently caressing the outside of your thigh. He brought his free hand to your cunt, fingers ghosting over the area. He looked up to you as if to ask permission. You gave him another nod, assuring him it was okay.

He slowly advanced, wanting to give you ample time to change your mind if you needed to. When you stayed quiet, eyes watching him with anticipation, he took it as a good sign. He ran his fingers through your folds, letting you get used to the feeling before doing anything else. You bit into the inside of your lip, trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar sensation. It was definitely different when someone else was touching you, you noted. He gathered some of your arousal on his fingers. He spread the wetness to your clit, bringing his thumb to the sensitive area and slowly rubbing light circles into it. Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling taking you by surprise. His eyes flickered to your face, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the sound. You looked down at him, meeting his gaze and feeling a different type of pleasure at the sight.

“How’s that?” His voice was quiet, barely noticeable if not for your intent focus on his every action. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, less enthralled in the movement of his hands than you were at the look on his face. He had a small smile playing on his lips, but the admiration for you he held in his eyes was worth more than words. He didn’t speak again, but kept his focus on the pattern of his thumb. He applied a bit more pressure, watching your face for a reaction. You let in a sharp intake of breath, feeling the sensation change from unfamiliar to pleasurable. His jaw clenched slightly, the sound running straight through him and settling in his bones. It was small, barely there, but it was blissful to his ears.

He worked at you for a few moments, gentle and loving with every move. It felt good, the nervousness almost completely gone, but there was enough there for you to hold yourself back. Your noises were limited, mostly from fear of embarrassment. You were so caught up in the worry of looking dumb that you were almost overlooking the scene before you. It didn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only drove him further. He was aching too hear the beautiful sounds begging to be let out, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t get them out of you. You watched him closely, not wanting to miss a moment of his presence. He leaned forward, letting a line of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. You swallowed hard, the small action sending a rush of pleasure through you.

He ran his fingers through your cunt again, making sure the lubrication didn’t go to waste. His middle finger slowed and eventually stopped just before your entrance. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He asked, but his tone was more of a demand. You nodded, too caught up in the idea of his fingers almost inside of you to worry about anything else. After a second, he slowly sunk his finger into you, studying you for any sign of discomfort. When you went without protest, he fully pushed his finger in, letting his thumb fall back on your clit. He continued his circles, now adding the stimulation of pumping his finger into you. You let a breathy moan out, unable to hold it back anymore. “That’s it baby,” he practically groaned, ecstatic to hear the noise. “You’re doing s’good.” The praise, although unexpected, was very well received. Knowing that he was enjoying himself solely by pleasuring you was a fantastic feeling. Knowing that he was only concerned with you feeling good was enough to satiate the anxiety.

He continued his pace for a while, eventually adding another finger when you felt you were ready. You were a mess, caught up in the pleasure but worried, too, because you hadn’t felt the creep of an impending orgasm. His hand was steady, never wavering, and his eyes were locked on you. Every so often, he pressed his lips into the skin on your thighs or your hipbones, just as a small act of affection. “Sam, I-I don’t know if I’m gonna cum.” You admitted, voice shaky and a bit defeated.

“You will,” he promised, unfazed by the statement. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I just…” you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He pulled back, halting his movements.

“I can stop if that’s what you want, baby.” His words were coated with sincerity. “Or are you just worried you can’t cum?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you to stop, I’m having a good time. I just don’t know if I can.” You explained, feeling embarrassment settle in your chest.

“I’ve got all night.” He said, shrugging off the worry. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” He gave you a smile.

“I want you to have a good time, too, though.”

“Oh, I am.” His tone changed from gentle to firm. “Don’t worry about that.” You watched him with uncertainty, but the look in his eye was nothing but affirmative of his statement. “Don’t worry about anything. Just lay there and focus on how it feels, okay?” You nodded. “No worries about if you’re gonna cum or not, no worrying about me having a good time, just relax and enjoy the feeling. If you don’t cum, we’ll try again next time.” Your heard sped at the realization that he was planning on this being more than a one-time thing. It was comforting, knowing that he was learning about you so intimately, but wasn’t planning on running. He didn’t want to get your clothes off and never speak to you again like the majority of boys you’d ever known.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You replied. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why the hesitation was so present. “You, uh… next time?” He couldn’t help but grin at your question.

“I mean, yeah, if you want that, of course.”

“Yeah, I do.” You rushed out, hoping you hadn’t made him feel otherwise.

“Then it’s settled.” He hummed. “Not just the sex part, though. The dinner and the hanging out was great, and I’d very much like to do that, too.” You let out a small giggle at his words, finding the explanation cute.

“Me, too.” You assured him.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He asked, a smirk on the corner of his lips. He started to move his fingers again, taking you by surprise. You let out a gasp at the suddenness, immediately feeling the pleasure return.

“S-sure,” you breathed, giving him a nod. He decided to stop messing with you, wanting to ensure you were as comfortable as you could be. He worked himself back up to his earlier pace, making it nearly impossible for you to think of anything else. He let another trail of spit fall onto his fingers, making sure it wasn’t too dry for you.

After a few moments, you did start to feel a little less insecure. His eyes were watching you, studying every minute detail. He noticed the rise and fall of your chest speed as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, the way you occasionally pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in attempt to silence yourself. He watched how your eyebrows furrowed slightly when he brushed over your clit just right, and how your eyes stayed almost permanently shut. He thought you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Eventually, a blissful moan slipped from your mouth as his fingers hit the perfect spot. His eyes rolled back slightly, soaking up the sound. “That’s it, baby.” He encouraged you, fingers never stopping.

The words of motivation helped ease your tension. Your stiffness dissipated, your shoulders relaxing back on the pillows a bit. Your neck let your head fall back, leaving you completely at ease for the time being. A few more short-lived moans fell from your lips, all hitting him with a stronger force each time. “Doing so good, princess.” He said, noticing the effect his words had on you last time. “Cum for me, baby. You can do it.” He whispered. The demand went straight to your core, and you started to feel a sensation grow in the pit of your stomach. It was a feeling you’d only ever given yourself; it was way more intense when produced by another person.

“Fuck, Sam.” You whimpered, a gentle warning that you were getting closer. His heart drummed against his chest, clearly excited at the obscene proclamation. He took a risk, removing his thumb from your clit and lowering his head until his lips were touching you. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his tongue darted over the sensitive nerves, causing an involuntarily buck of your hips. He used his hand that was hooked under your leg to hold you down on the mattress.

Your fear of not being able to cum was quickly diminished with the new, even more unfamiliar feeling. It was heavenly. You let a low groan out, feeling the knot in your belly tighten. You slipped your hand down and tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair. He pulled his mouth off you only for a second, just to get one more praise in. “Taste so good, princess.” He said, slipping his thumb back in place of his mouth. You could only whimper in response, already missing the feeling of his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” he whispered the last part more to himself than anything else. He only let his eyes hover over your expression for a moment longer, returning his tongue to you.

It didn’t take long to get to where he wanted you to be. Within a few minutes, you were gripping at his hair, panting and moaning, your orgasm begging you to let go. His tongue was moving at a steady pace, and his fingers curled with every re-entry, hitting a spot inside you that nothing ever had before. You let your head fall back, feeling the pressure reach its peak. A wave of pleasure overtook you, setting every nerve in your body on fire. You managed his name through the slur of moans, clenching around his fingers as you came. He only tapered his speed when the intensity began to die down. He removed his mouth first, then slowly pulled his fingers from you. His eyes flickered towards your face, lust clouding his eyes as he did so.

He slowly moved upwards, placing a few kisses over your collarbones and up onto your neck. You finally found the strength to open your eyes and look to him. He caught your gaze and gave you a dopey smile, eyelids heavy and your arousal glistening on his lips. “That’s my beautiful girl,” he hummed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before leaning in for a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he parted from you. He placed another kiss on your lips, sweet and full of emotion. The anxiety that had been plaguing you on and off was now gone, replaced solely by a desire for him that you’d never felt for another person before. “Did that feel good?”

“So good, Sammy.” You said, your lips still ghosting over his. You could feel his erection straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your leg.

“My name sounds so good when you say it like that.” He sighed, one hand roaming your exposed torso. His touch was light, tickling the sensitive skin over your rib cage as he did so.

“Thank you,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his, basking in the affection.

“Don’t have to thank me, princess.” He replied. “If anything, I should be thanking you.” You let out a small laugh at his words, finding his gratefulness charming. You reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand, lifting your head to pull him into another kiss. He was hesitant to let you go when you pulled away.

“Do you wanna…?” You trailed off, feeling a bit too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

“Do you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, never more sure of yourself in your whole life. He gave you a smile, making a move to stand. He undid the drawstring on his pants, then pulled them down, ridding himself of them and leaving himself clad in only his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes wandering but eventually settling on the bulge barely contained by the fabric. He noticed your stare, a smirk making its way back onto his lips.

“Condoms?” He asked, catching your attention. Your eyes widened, realizing that you didn’t have any.

“Oh, I uh- I didn’t really expect… I don’t..”

“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I have some in my room. I can go get them.” You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, realizing that he’d been keeping them for a reason. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to focus on the idea of him being with someone else. He was here with you, and that’s what mattered.

“I, uh, I am on birth control, if you’re clean.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed at the statement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He said, his tone firm.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “Like I said, as long as you’re clean.” You repeated the earlier comment, just wanting to be sure.

“I am,” he promised. “It’s been a long time since… yeah.” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t help but feel better knowing he hadn’t been sleeping around, either.

“Then yeah, I’m okay with it.” He gave a nod, making a move to take off his boxers. You watched in admiration, excited to finally see him the same as he was seeing you. He kicked the fabric with the rest of the growing pile of clothes. He stepped back towards the bed, noticing your eyes never leaving him. “You’re… very pretty.” You whispered, unable to find any better words to describe him.

“I think you’re very pretty, too.” He smiled, nestling back between your legs as he grabbed a pillow from beside you. “Lift your hips up, princess.” You did as he said and he slipped the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a bit more comfortable.”

He guided your legs up slightly, not enough to bend you in an awkward position, but enough to make it easier for both of you. “Will it hurt?” You finally blurted out, the question begging to be spoken all night.

“May be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I’m gonna try my best to make sure it doesn’t.” He said, catching your gaze. “We can take it as slow as you want. If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay.” You replied, voice quiet. You were nervous, but very aware that you were in good hands. It was his only intention to make sure you enjoyed yourself. You watched as he spit on his hand, rubbing himself for a moment.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared to talk to me, baby.” He reminded. You nodded, eyes only focused on his hand that was he was stroking himself with. He moved a bit closer, letting the tip of his dick rest against your entrance. He let you get used to the feeling before going any further. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

“I am.” You weren’t lying; the anxiety and nervousness was fully expected, but you were more than ready to have sex with him. You were sure of that before you’d even spoken with him, and it was only solidified further when you saw how accommodating he was being with you. He waited for any hesitation, but when none was given, he slowly pushed his hips forward.

You closed your eyes, trying your best to stay relaxed. He only pushed in a few inches, wanting you to adjust before continuing. “That okay?” He asked. You nodded, reaching out for his hand. He took his own from your leg and accepted the offer, intertwining his fingers with yours. He thrusted forward a bit more, studying your expression for a hint of discomfort. When he bottomed out, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You noted. He laughed quietly, happy you thought so.

“You’re doing so good.” He whispered. “You feel so good.” His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, enjoying the praise more than you imagined you would. He slowly built up a pace, moving his hips with caution. Once you’d fully realized the sensation was less than uncomfortable, you relaxed against him. After a few more moments, you began to enjoy the feeling.

“You can go faster,” you sighed, a ghost of a moan in your words. He was hesitant to do so, but he gradually sped his thrusts, admiring your expression. When he clued in to the fact you were enjoying yourself, he couldn’t help but let a groan escape his lips. Your eyes snapped to his face, thinking that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His pleasure ridden expression was enough to induce an orgasm on its own, you deducted.

He reached his hand between your legs, letting his thumb find your clit again. He continued his pace, now applying light pressure onto the sensitive bundle of nerves as he circled his thumb. The combined sensations caused a moan from you. Your fingers tightened against his hand, a silent expression of pleasure. “Fuck, Sam.” You sighed, letting your head fall back onto the pillows.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” He mumbled, trying to keep the speed of his hips and his hand the same. The pet names were unexpected, but you loved hearing them come from his mouth, especially when they sounded like that. “Wish I could have you like this forever.” He sighed, losing himself to the feeling a bit. It didn’t take long for another knot to form in your belly. With the consistency of his movements, it was much easier to get there than it was the first time. Sam noticed the slight change in your demeanour, the increase in the noises you were making. He focused on your face, wanting to watch you this time, feeling a bit cheated out of the moment the first time. “You think you can cum again, princess?” He asked, eyes burning into you.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, looking up at him. “Feels so good, Sammy.”

“Come on, baby.” He sounded as if he were begging you. “Doing so good for me.” With his encouragement, you felt your orgasm creep up again. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, wanting to appreciate him as much as possible. He sped his thumb slightly, causing your breath to catch in your throat. His gaze never wavered, an unspoken plea for you to let go. It only took a moment before you came the second time. Your head fell back again, eyes screwed shut and mouth permanently agape. His jaw was clenched, holding himself back from his own release at the sound of you crying his name. “That’s it,” he moaned, wishing he could engrave the picture in his mind forever. As much as he wanted to cum, too, he was hoping to get one more out of you before the night came to an end.

The pressure from his thumb lightened, but his thrusts sped. You didn’t have time to recover, unlike the first time. The sensitivity was overtaken by the pleasure of him inside you, making it the only thing you could focus on. You looked back at him, realizing your mistake as soon as you did. He was still staring at you, eyes now a bit feral. The muscles in his jaw were taut, and he was quite unfamiliar to you, now. Although different, not in a bad way. It was intense, but far from menacing. You were captivated in the details of his stare, finding yourself unable to look away. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him in such a way. You couldn’t believe that you had the power to drive him to such a feeling.

“You can give me one more, baby, I know you can.” His motivation was clouded with a bit of dominance, giving you the impression that he wouldn’t be pleased with himself if he couldn’t give you another orgasm.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” You groaned, unsure of yourself but still fully immersed in the feeling of him inside you.

“You can, princess. You can do it.” His chest was heaving with every breath, partially due to his movement, but more to do with desire. There was a glisten of sweat on his forehead, illuminated by the dim light flooding through the window. You didn’t think you’d be able to cum for the first time, let alone a second, or a third. The only anxiety you had left in your body was one fearing you’d leave him disappointed. Rationally, you knew he’d be content with whatever happened, but the louder part of your brain craved to give him exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t out of fear, but solely because you wanted to. From the minute he’d given you that first stupid smile all those months ago, you knew you wanted to be exactly where you were at that moment, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give it your all.

His patience and gentleness with you the whole night was endearing, but for you, the novelty of it being your first time had worn off, and the months of sexual tension was reaching its peak. You were both completely starved for each other in the best way possible, neither of you wanting to disappoint. Sam kept his pace steady, his thumb pressing into your clit again. To both of you, the idea of another orgasm not being reached was out of the question. “I can, but you have to cum with me.” You begged.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grunted, letting out a long exhale. He knew that wouldn’t be an issue, he’d been holding himself back from the minute you’d started fucking. He rationed with himself as another string of moans left your lips, forcing himself to believe that waiting would be far more satisfactory than finishing before you. “Cum for me, angel.” The new term of endearment was unlike the others; this one hit you violently, such a graceful term for such a filthy display. You let out a cry of pleasure, your third climax hitting you without warning. It washed over you with necessity, as if you needed it to survive. He finally let go of your hand, fingers finding your hips to hold you on him as he came, too.

The room echoed with sounds of pleasure and obscene words, the essence of the moment settling into the walls and solidifying its place. The memory would never leave, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He let out a sigh, finally losing his composure and resting gently atop of you. He placed tender kisses along your collarbones, small gestures of affection and appreciation to let you know he still meant everything he said to you. After you both came back to reality, he slowly withdrew from you. He tried to keep the mess minimal as he did so, wanting to keep the cleanup simple so he had more time to hold you before the night was through. “You should go pee, don’t want you to get a UTI.” He mumbled. You managed a nod, sleep calling to you like never before. Your mind and body were beyond exhausted, unable to keep up with the whirlwind of events.

He helped you up and to the bathroom, leaving you to your business. You cleaned yourself up and removed what was left of your makeup before returning to him. He gave you a dopey smile and a kiss on the head before going to do the same. You took a seat on the bed, mind still buzzing with excitement at the thought of what happened. When he came back out, he pulled his boxers back on and picked up his t-shirt from the ground. He handed it to you, almost nervous of rejection. You took the piece of clothing and slipped it over your head, more than happy to be wearing his clothes. “Did… did you maybe want to stay with me tonight?” You asked, nervous he’d say no. He took a seat beside you, pulling you into his arms and laying you both down on the mattress.

“Was hoping you’d ask.” He mumbled, pulling your back to his chest. He nuzzled his head into your neck, not caring about the tickle of your hair on his face.

“Thank you,” you finally said after a few long moments of silence.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “That was… fantastic. You were fantastic.”

“I’m just happy you had a good time. That’s all I wanted.” He hummed, hand snaking under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“I really did. I.. uh, wanted to do that for a while.” You said, rolling your eyes at your own awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He said, as if it were obvious. “All year I felt like I was in middle school again, crushing on the prettiest girl who didn’t know I existed.”

“I knew you existed.” You whispered, calmed at the knowledge you’d both been feeling the same way. “I thought the same about you.”

“Seems like we were both a bit dumb, then, Picasso.” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Guess so, piano man.” You both fell into a silence again, but like all the other ones, it was nothing short of comfortable. You felt yourself melt into his touch, sleep begging you to close your eyes.

“You’re okay, though? You’re not sore, or anything? You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Yeah, I am, Sammy. Promise.” You reassured him. He’d done an excellent job at taking care of you and ensuring you were comfortable. It was the best possible scenario you could have imagined for your first time.

“That’s good, I just want to make sure.” He whispered. You settled into the mattress, prepared to go to bed. “So, if we’re talking experience wise, like a three star review?” He broke the quiet once more, causing both of you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“Mmm, I was thinking more of a five star, actually.” You pretended to ponder.

“Don’t stroke my ego, Picasso.” He dismissed the compliment.

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again sometime, then I can give a proper review.” You moved your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his. He laced your fingers together, more than accepting of the contact.

“I think that would be quite alright.” He placed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine. “So it was good enough to make you want to do it again,” he noted. “I’ll have to put that one on my resume.” You laughed, shaking your head at his antics.

“Goodnight, piano man.” You said, finality in your voice. He propped himself up, trying his best to lean over you for another kiss. You turned your head back to meet his lips, much more confident in the action, now.

“Goodnight, Picasso.” He settled back in behind you, closing his eyes, too. “I can’t wait to take you to breakfast in the morning.” No more words were exchanged, but you both fell into a slumber with a permanent smile stuck on your lips.

[rvblos]

can you do thigh riding with jannik 👉👈

thigh riding (blurb) - jannik sinner

warnings: suggestive / dirty talking

notes: i’m a literal slut for this man so thank u for requesting this one🙂‍↕️

it has been a long day. training didn’t go well as expected, your coach kept screaming in your hear underlining every mistake that you made, you spent hours under the hot sun just trying to get the ball on the other side of the net without succeeding. it was tiring.

days like this were common in your life, days in which you felt the half of the energy you usually had, and you didn’t know exactly why and it drove you mad.

but fortunately you had jannik that was always by your side, encouraging you to do your best. and was of course always there whenever you came home tired as ever from an intense training day.

“hi, baby.” he said in a sweet tone, seeing you coming towards him to flop right next to his body on the couch. you nodded at him, too tired even to speak. “how was training?” he took a strand of your hair in his fingers, twirling it.

“just… bad.” you sighed closing your eyes and letting your head fall backwards onto the cushions. “why’s that?” he asked in a concerned voice, his eyes fixed onto yours. “it was just exhausting, you know… i couldn’t get one ball on the other side of the net.” you huffed, almost getting angry again just at the thought of it.

“i’m sorry, babe.” he placed a hand on your naked thigh, stroking it. you felt hot all of a sudden. “is there anything i can do for you?” he sounded so innocent he made you smile, but maybe there was one thing…

you chuckled shyly to yourself, hiding your gaze from his but he was following your eyes. “what is it?” he smiled too, taking your chin with a two fingers and forcing you to lock eyes with him.

your cheeks were definitely turning red and you could feel his hand strarting to get real close to your heat, he was doing it on purpose at this point.

“maybe you just have to relax.” his tone was serious as he stared at your lips intensely. “don’t you think?” his fingers were tracing random patterns on your skin and you were sure he noticed your sudden body heat change. you felt like you were burning underneath his touch.

before you could even think about an answer, he lifted your body up from his side, positing you on his lap, so you were straddling his thigh. it was almost instinctive for you to start move upon him, feeling his muscle tense beneath your body and his hands found place on you hips, guiding your movements and keeping you in place.

“mhhh…” he nodded, looking up at you. “do you like that, baby?” he asked in a quiet voice caressing your burning cheek “y-yes…”

unconsciously you started picking up your pace, moving faster on him and hearing him groaning in your ear. “you’re doing great.” he praised you in a whisper.

your hands found place on his shoulders, squeezing the flesh in your fingers and feeling his body tensing. it was an ecstatic feeling. “j-jannik…” you moaned his name in a muffled voice, trying to compose yourself, but you just couldn’t.

“i’m right here.” his hands on your waist were driving you crazy, as well as your movements on his thigh, grinding on him eagerly. he sensed your were almost reaching your climax and he started whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you rested you head in the crook of his neck.

“just let go.” he said stroking your back, hugging you. with one last movement you came, staining your shorts and you immediately pulled him closer to you, your head still on his shoulder, too embarrassed to look up at him. “t-thank you…”

he placed a sweet kiss on your head, whispering “anything for you, baby.”

tag list: @rublito @yungbludz @gogz-ee @xoxolovlies @pretty-hate-machineee @2manytabsopen @carlosalcarazlefttoe @heyitsconysstuff @ithinkimokeei

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 7: My House of Stone...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long i got such bad writers block Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

When Arthur didn’t show up after a few days, you tried to not let it get to you. He was a busy man, no doubt even more busy because of the job involving your husband. You ignored the fact that he proved that he would fight everything to come and see you, consequences be damned. It was almost out of character that he hadn’t come to see you, or had reached out to you in some way.

When a few more days passed with no sign of the outlaw, you found yourself going back over your last encounter, when he had taken you out on Bear. You don’t recall any hesitancy or doubt in his eyes when he was with you, or maybe you were too blind with your own desire to see it. That thought made you reel, panicking that you made him uncomfortable and scared him off. 

But you didn’t let that thought fester for too long. You spent your days doing menial tasks with no real passion, trying to just pass the time. It worked, mostly, but you were getting antsy. How you wished you had an easy way to leave the prison that had become the house. 

Even more days passed, each day becoming more and more anxiety ridden. Instead of worrying that you’d scared him off now, you were worried that he was dead, or in shackles, about to be hung up in the town square. Your nights were becoming restless, images of his dead body haunting you when you closed your eyes. You’d wake with bloodshot eyes, even more tired than you were when you went to bed. 

You eventually stopped counting the days, not wanting to know how long he’d been gone for. You tried to spend more and more time outside of the house, bringing blankets and books from Hans’ office to your garden, waiting to escape the confinement of the walls around you. It helped, for a bit, yet you still found your mind wandering, constantly worrying about Arthur. 

But no matter how hard you tried, you found that you couldn’t hate the man. Upset, sure, angry, definitely, but not hateful. No, your heart wouldn’t allow it. You were still in love with him, and the lack of contact from him was hurting you, both physically and mentally. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to find it in yourself to take care of your body. You knew it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He had wormed his way into your very being, and left a hole that couldn’t be fixed. You just hoped that he’d return soon and make you feel whole again. 

It was during this time that you decided to draft a letter to your family, hoping that it would alleviate the loneliness that was once removed by Arthur. You sat in Hans’ office, pen shaking in your hand as you stared at the blank piece of paper in front of you, the task proving to be more difficult than you imagined. It had been two years since you’d last spoken to them, and you had no idea what to say. How much was too much? How honest was too honest?

You decided to keep it simple, and you began to write. It took a few tries, but you eventually produced a letter that you were satisfied with. 

My dear family, 

I have missed you all, incredibly so. Words don’t even begin to do it justice. I apologize for not reaching out earlier, but my circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I do so hope to hear back from you, and perhaps have the pleasure of seeing each other in the flesh soon. 

Your daughter,

You finished it with your name, but just your first name. Tucking it into an envelope, you addressed it with the address Arthur had provided you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw Arthur’s handwriting, rereading the note he left you.

Making sure to leave the office as you found it, you made your way downstairs, setting the letter on the kitchen table, ready to grab for whenever you decided to go into town. You spent a few days at home after writing the letter, hoping that one night you’d hear the familiar hoofbeats of Bear, but were left disappointed each night. 

Eventually, though, you needed to leave, if just for a short bit of time. It had been roughly three weeks since you’d last left the house, and if you had to look at the same things again you were going to snap, leaving the house as a pile of ash. So, with a small purse with some cash, you took the letter and yourself and left. 

If it weren't for your current mindset, the walk to the main road would’ve been relaxing, enjoying the noises of animals and the cool breeze against your skin. But everything is annoying you now. The wind was causing your hair to blow in your face, and if you had to hear that birdsong one more time, you were going to lose it. Or maybe you’d already lost it. 

The sun blinded you as you left the shade of the thick forest, stepping out onto the main road. You always hated doing this, but you were desperate. Slowly, you began to walk towards Rhodes, keeping a close ear for any riders. 

It took a few minutes, but you eventually heard someone approaching from behind, and you perked up, putting on your friendliest face as you stopped and turned. It was a carriage, and you began to wave them down, but they ignored you, not even bothering to glance in your direction. Rude.

Still, you kept on, not letting one bad interaction deter you. A few more carriages and wagons passed, with similar responses. Everyone looked grim, you noticed, stone-faced and somber expressions. Now you were starting to feel dejected, and you debated just heading back to the house; you weren’t that far anyway. 

Before you could come to a decision, a single rider passed you, glancing at you even though you didn’t wave him down. Something like recognition flashed across his face, even though you’d never seen this man in your life. He had longer, black-brown hair that was tied into a small ponytail, with a mustache and goatee, and a bowler hat protecting his tanned skin. He had a blue denim jacket on, with a red handkerchief around his neck, and you noted that he was surprisingly well dressed for being an alone traveler on the road. 

“Mrs. Kerrigan?” He asked, almost in disbelief, like you were a creature from folklore, pulling his gray and white horse to a halt beside you. 

You braced yourself, ready to bolt as you stared at the man. “Yes?” You asked, suspicious. It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize who you were, but they’d never acted like they knew you personally. You dove into the deep recess of your brain trying to remember who he was, but drawing a blank; he was a stranger to you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, which was a tad bit off putting from a complete stranger. Still, you couldn't detect any malicious intent in his words.

Sighing, you answered truthfully. “I’m tryin’ to get to Rhodes. You… you don’t happen to be goin’ there, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered, truly sounding regretful, but then his face turned thoughtful. 

“Ah. No worries then. Have a good day.” 

You tried to continue moving, but his smooth voice made you halt again. “But it’s close enough. I can only bring you to the outskirts, though.”

“You’d do that?” You smiled when he nodded. “I can pay, too. Thank you, Mr…?”

“Escuella. But you can call me Javier.” He extended a hand to you, helping you on to the back of his horse. You sat sidesaddle, keeping an appropriate amount of distance between your bodies, your hands resting on his sides.

Javier. You remember Arthur telling you about someone with the same name, and although you highly doubted that this was the same Javier, you wished that he had a drawing of him. “Thank you, Javier.”

“Of course, Mrs. Kerrigan.” Javier gestured his horse forward, setting an easygoing pace; not too fast, not too slow. A small pang hit your heart as you remembered the last time you were on a horse, your body pressed up to Arthur’s, his rough voice in your ears, the playful glint in his eye. God, you missed him. 

“I’ll pay you when we get to town,” you repeated after a few minutes of riding, and you felt Javier chuckle. 

“I appreciate it, but I think Arthur would kill me.” Your blood ran cold, and your heart began to race just at the mention of him. So this was Javier, the one Arthur traveled with in the mountains to rescue John. It makes sense then, why he seemed to recognize you.

“Well, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” you commented. 

“He’s talked about me, then?”

“All good things,” you reassured, and he just shook his head, not believing you. You desperately wanted to ask him about Arthur, if he was alive or not, but you weren’t sure if any answer he gave you would hurt less. “Does… does he talk about me?”

Javier snorted. “Yes and no. He’ll talk about you, sometimes so much that we want to kill him, but then refuses to answer any of our questions. Some of us even doubted your existence,” he laughed, “but I’m glad to see that we’re wrong. You’ve made him real happy. I haven’t seen him this… optimistic in a long time.”

You were glad he was facing forward, so he couldn’t see the way those words broke you. Biting back tears, you kept your voice steady. “How is Arthur?”

“He’s fine?” He responded, very clearly confused as to why you didn’t know. “He’s been, well, ‘helping’ your husband.”

Oh. “So the names he got led to somethin’?” 

“Sure did. We were able to track down suppliers, and disrupt his business there. He’s yet to reach out for help, but Dutch doesn’t think it’ll be long now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You weren’t lying. “But he’s well?” You couldn’t help but ask about him again. 

“Yes. It’s been a crazy couple of days, but we’re pulling through.”

Only a couple of days. You refrained from asking what he’d gotten up to earlier, not wanting to appear desperate, even if you were. “I’m glad. And don’t make me regret saying this, but if anyone ever needs a place to lie low for a bit, point ‘em towards my house. At least when my husband isn’t there.” Even though you’d barely met any of the members, you couldn’t help but feel protective over the gang because of how deeply Arthur cared about them. If there was anything you could do to help them, you would.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. Thank you.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Arthur was right about you; you’re too kind for this world.”

You murmured a small thanks, and the two of you fell into an easy silence for the rest of the ride. When the familiar outskirts of Rhodes appeared, you felt Javier begin to grow nervous, his head moving back and forth, like he was on the lookout for something. “We can stop here,” you said once you reached a long abandoned house, the yellow paint chipping and peeling. 

Red dust kicked up when your feet hit the ground, and you quickly took out a few bills, handing them to Javier. “Again, I can’t take this,” he held up a hand, a small smile on his face.

“I ain’t payin’ you for the ride, though. I payin’ you to deliver a message to Arthur,” you countered, but he didn’t relent. Sighing, you tucked them into the saddlebags before facing him with your hands on your hips. “Tell him to come see me. Please.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Do you have a ride back home?”

“I can arrange something’. Now go; you look uncomfortable just being here.”

He chuckled, not disagreeing with you. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

“You too, Javier. Stay safe.”

He nodded, smiling kindly at you before turning, taking off back down the road you’d just been on. Turning toward the town, you began to make your way to the center of town, right to the post office in the railroad station.

It was eerily quiet, more like a ghost town than anything. There wasn’t a single soul lingering on the porches or the street, and the shutters of most of the buildings were shut, which was extremely unusual for the middle of the day on a weekday. There weren’t even any animals out; it was just you and the dust. 

After a few tense minutes of walking, you eventually climbed the stairs of the railroad station, the creak of the old wood almost making you jump. It was just as empty on the inside as it was outside, the other person in the building, the person behind the counter, who smiled tensely as you entered. 

“Good afternoon, missus,” he exclaimed, the chip in his voice far too forced. “Say, can’t say I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”

“You’ve probably met my husband, Mr. Kerrigan,” you responded, making your way to the counter, pulling the letter from your bag. 

“Ah yes. Well, how can I help you, Mrs. Kerrigan?”

You slid the letter across to him. “I’d like to send this, please.”

“Not a problem at all. That’ll be five cents.”

Sliding him a nickel from your bag, you looked around as he stamped the letter, putting it in the appropriate mailbox. “Is there anythin’ else I can help you with?”

“Why is it so… dead?” You glanced back at the man, who had visibly paled at your question. 

“Interesting choice of words, ma’am. Let’s just say we had an… incident yesterday. Nothing befitting a proper lady like yourself.” He explained, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Ominous. Realizing you weren’t going to get far with him, you wished him a good day before leaving. You made your way to the general store; Mr. Banks would let you know. 

The bell chimed as you entered, and you called out for the older gentleman, and you heard the sound of crashing from the back room, clearly scaring the poor man. A disheveled Mr. Banks peeked around the corner, visibly relaxing when he saw it was just you. You opened your mouth to try and apologize, but he cut you off. “You didn't bring that ‘deputy’ with ya, did you?” He asked, growing tense again.

“Arthur? No, he’s not with me.”

“Good. I’ll kill him on sight if he even dares to step foot in Rhodes again. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Physically, no. “Mr. Banks, what in the world-”

“Him and his buddies shot up the town yesterday. Killed the good Leigh Gray, Lord bless his soul,” he shuddered, and you halted in your tracks, your somewhat amused smile at his ramblings falling. 

“What?”

He pointed to a newspaper on the counter, and you cautiously stepped toward it. Bloodthirsty Gang Kills Dozens was the headline, a few paragraphs of text following below it. Your head spun at the new information, blocking out the words of Mr. Banks. You couldn’t gauge what you were feeling; you weren’t disgusted, or revolted, even though you knew you should be. You weren’t surprised; you knew that Arthur had done things, unspeakable things, and would continue to do so. You weren’t angry at what he did, but you were angry at him for putting himself in harm’s way like that. 

“I’ll take the paper,” you cut Mr. Banks off, sliding him a few bills, and he slid the paper to you. You barely mumbled out a ‘good day’ before you left, nose deep in the paper as you headed back to the railroad station, sitting on the bench waiting for the carriage services, and you read as you waited. 

You read all about the way the gang played both families, something you had no idea was happening. You weren’t hurt that he didn’t tell you; you knew that some things had to remain secrets. But you didn’t care much about the detail, eyes scanning for any telling of death or injury to the Van Der Linde gang. You knew that Javier probably didn’t lie to you, but you still needed to be sure. 

Your heart dropped when you saw that there was indeed one confirmed killing of a member of the Van Der Linde gang, but you didn’t recognize the description they provided. The others, it seemed, were still at large, and unhurt. Knowing how deeply Arthur cared about each member of the gang, you knew that this death was probably weighing heavily on him. If only he would come and see you, just so you could help him.

The sound of a carriage approaching had you standing, tucking the paper under your arm. Getting in, you directed the driver to your house, and you quickie got lulled into the rocking rhythm of the vehicle. You ignored the paper under your arm, even though it felt like a million pounds.

The ride felt like forever, but eventually you pulled into the familiar forested area of Ringneck Creek. The driver helped you out, and after you paid him you headed inside, feeling like you were just going through the motions. Despite everything you’d learned, there was one thing that really bothered you. The shootout had only been yesterday; what had stopped him from seeing you during the previous three weeks?

Even though it wasn’t late, you found yourself getting ready for bed anyway, keeping the paper on the table downstairs and grabbing a book from Hans' office before curling beneath the sheets. Your eyes skimmed the words, not processing them, your brain too distracted by today’s events.

You weren’t quite sure how you “read” for, but you must’ve fallen asleep at some point. A loud noise, like a door being slammed, had you bolting upright, pulled out of your uneasy slumber, the book luckily not hitting the ground. When you didn’t hear anything for a few moments, you thought you had just imagined it, and you went to try and go back to bed. 

That was until you heard the sound of heavy footfalls. Shit. Tearing off the covers, you padded lightly across the wooden floor, wishing that Hans wasn’t so opposed to keeping guns in the house. You had nothing to defend yourself with, so kept to the shadows as you left the room. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you flinched when you saw the shadow of a man making its way toward the stairs. You began to back away, back into the safety of your room, until you recognized the familiar silhouette of the man. Don’t tell me…

Cautiously, you made your way downstairs, barely making a noise. You had to stifle a gasp once you reached the bottom, your suspicions confirmed when you saw Arthur standing in your dining room, back to you, glancing over the newspaper you’d set on the table. His hair was longer, his clothing unkempt, but it was still the same man you had fallen for.

Too many emotions ran through you, from anger to longing to desire to sadness. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face, and so you just stood at the bottom of the stairs, shocked. 

Eventually, Arthur turned, the only sign of him being startled was his eyes widening. Those beautiful blue eyes that had haunted your thoughts, that you longed to see again. You let out a small gasp then, audible only to you. It was really hard to remain still, every fiber of your being craving to be in his arms again, to feel his lips on yours. 

Neither of you knew what to say, just staring at each other. Even in the low light, you could see that Arthur looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and his shoulders sagging. Being on the run would do that to a man. “So Javier wasn’t kiddin’. You’re alive.” You didn’t care that your voice was scathing. 

Javier must’ve said something to him, because Arthur didn’t seem surprised that you mentioned the other man. If you ever met him again, you’d have to thank him for sticking to his word about delivering a message. “I…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ll leave.” Oh, how you missed his rugged voice. 

Arthur turned to head back out the front door. “Stay. Please.” You called out, making your voice softer, stopping him in his tracks. Don’t leave me again. 

He took a deep breath before turning back around, somethin like guilt on his features. “It’s been three weeks, Arthur.” You sighed out.

“I know, darlin’.” You nearly broke then, his name for you crumbling your resolve. Yet you held, fingers gripping the railing with a death grip. “There was an… incident-”

“The shootout in town,” you cut him off. “Don’t sugarcoat things. I know what you get up to. I know the things you’ve done.”

Arthur didn’t bother to try to disagree, and you were thankful for that. “After the shootout in Rhodes, I couldn’t risk comin’ over to see ya’.”

“I understand, but that was only a few days ago. Arthur, it's been three weeks.” You didn’t bother to hide the pain in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

“Then where’ve you been?” He didn’t respond, and you laughed bitterly. “I thought you were dead, Arthur. Or you were about to be strung up in the gallows. Or you… I was worried sick, and the only reason I knew you weren’t dead was because Javier told me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology, I want an explanation.” You let go of the railing. “Why?” Arthur hung his head, and you began to step towards him. 

“You deserve somethin’ better, darlin’.”

“And you thought the best thing for me was to leave me alone and heartbroken. And who is this ‘someone better’ I deserve? Hans? No, I don’t think so.”

“I ain’t much better! You said it yourself, you know the things I’ve done. I’ve killed people, so many I’ve lost track. Hell, I was the one who killed Sheriff Gray. My whole life I’ve tricked and duped and betrayed people; I ain’t a good man’. You’re too sweet, too kind. You deserve somethin’ better than that, than me.”

“You think I didn’t know that you’ve hurt people, Arthur? You didn’t think when you said you were an outlaw that I wouldn’t, I don’t know, realize you’ve done some unlawful things? I know what kind of man you are, and who you claim to be, yet when I think of you I think of a man that is also good, generous, sweet.” You continued to move towards him, even as he shook his head. 

“A man that would come check up on a sad woman in the woods just ‘cause she asked, that would find her family’s address so she could write to them.” You were close enough to him that you could reach out and touch him.

“A man that’s made my miserable existence feel worthwhile, that has become the best goddamn part of my life.” His hands were shaking, you found when you took one of them in both of yours. Those familiar calloused fingers were oh so comforting, and you brought them close to your heart.

You took a deep breath. “A man that I’ve completely fallen in love with.”

His hands stopped shaking, or maybe yours were. You couldn’t tell. 

Arthur was speechless, but you could tell that he didn’t oppose your confession, because he pulled you closer. His free hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You shouldn’t…”

“Too late now, Arthur.” You breathed out. “I… I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He repeated again with more edge, but you could see how conflicted he was. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from it.”

“How can you be so certain?” 

“Because every damn good thing in my life gets ruined. Every person I lo- care ‘bout, I make their lives worse, and they regret ever openin’ their hearts to me. Did ya know I almost married a girl, then I ruined that. I- I had a kid,” his voice grew thick with emotion, “and he’s no longer with us. All because of me, and the life I lead. All because wherever I go, someone’ll be huntin’ down the people I care about, no matter how innocent they are. I couldn’t live with myself if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me.”

Oh. You were speechless now, and your heart ached for the man in front of you. “Arthur… I can’t guarantee that somethin’ won’t happen to me, but do you really wanna live your life in fear, pushing away those who care about you?”

“I can’t lose you, darlin’. I can’t.” 

“But you almost did, pushin’ me away like that. What then?”

“I…” he took a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck gently. “I don’t know.”

“So don’t push me away. Yes, it’s terrifying, caring about someone like this. You don’t think I worry ‘bout you every time you’re not here? That I don’t worry that we’ll be found out, and this whole thing will come burning down around us? But isn’t it worth it? ”

He sighed, before resting his head against yours, his hat sliding back a bit. “It is.”

“Then mean it. To yourself. To me.” His lips were so close now, and you wanted nothing more than to close the space between them. You let go of his hand, choosing to rest your hands on his chest instead. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your fingers, just as fast as yours was. “I love you, Arthur, and there isn’t a damn thing you can say that’ll change that.”

Arthur exhaled shakily, and even in the dim light you could see a small smile on his lips. “And I’m grateful for your stubbornness.” You chuckled lightly at his words. “I’ve been a fool-”

“None of that. You ain’t a fool, Arthur.”

“Maybe not. But I’m a fool for you.” You rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, knees growing weak at the now grin on his face. That dazzling, beautiful grin. But his expression sobered, and you temporarily feared the worst. “You should know that I do feel the same, darlin’. I really do. It’s just, I can’t…”

“You can’t say it back,” you refrained from sounding too crestfallen. You could be content with the fact that he agreed he felt the same. For now. He shook his head, looking ashamed, and you forced his gaze back up to yours when he tried to look away. “Then show me. Show me that you love me.”

“I could spend every last minute of my life showin’ you, and it still wouldn’t be enough time,” he chuckled, his thumb brushing just below your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, and something darkened in them. “But I can certainly try.”

He leaned in, finally closing the distance, and you felt like you could cry with relief. His lips felt even better than you remembered, more desperate than you’d ever felt them. You dropped his hand, arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss you, his hat falling to the ground as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, the hand still holding your face brushing your cheek. “Darlin’, you’re cryin’,” he murmured, his brow creasing with concern. 

“Good tears,” you laughed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I just missed you, so much.”

Another flash of guilt appeared on his face. “You promise?”

“Promise.” He regarded you for a few moments, and you nearly pulled him back down yourself, desperate to feel his lips again. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait too long, because he was kissing you again, weeks of pent up longing, fear, and love being poured into it. It made you dizzy, and your fingers tangled further into his hair, eliciting a groan from the man. 

Arthur’s free hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he kissed you. They gripped even harder when you ran your tongue against his lips, not expecting you to take control of the kiss. He willingly let his lips part, letting you explore him with ease. 

You hadn’t even realized Arthur had moved until you felt your back hit a wall, the back of your head cradled by his hand. It made you groan, breaking away from the kiss, and Arthur wasted no time trialing his lips down your neck. Your head rolled back, letting out pleased sighs and light moans as he littered kisses across your neck, his facial hair ticking the sensitive skin.

“Arthur,” you groaned, hands still in his hair, and you felt him hum in response. 

“My beautiful girl,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything, and you were grateful for the stability the wall provided. The hand on your waist moved down, securing under your thigh and lifting it so that your leg wrapped around him. You inadvertently began to rock your hips, eliciting another delicious groan from Arthur.

“God, Arthur, I need you.” You didn’t care if you were pleading. You’d been plenty patient; you were allowed to be greedy. 

“I’m takin’ my time with ya. We’ve got all night.”

Another groan tore from your throat. All night. “You promise?” You asked, echoing his previous words. If he was promising all night, then you could be patient for a little while longer.

You felt him grin against your skin, nipping lightly at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Promise.”

Author's Note: surprise javier appearance bam!

[crowwbones]

Burnt Leaves

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GNC Reader

SFW / Fluff & Comfort / No Dialogue / TW: Drug abuse mentions, mildly unhealthy coping with insomnia, one off-handed joke about dying

Summary: You deal with plenty of bullshit as is, and insomnia is just the straw threatening to break your back. You have your ways to deal with it, though. Seems like the skull masked lieutenant needs a new coping mechanism as well.

I may write more if people actually enjoy this, also i wrote this at like 3 am and i am dealing with insomnia myself, pls excuse if it sucks lmao

Being in the military was probably your best option. You weren't small or weak, you had quite a ways to go, sure, but you held your own. That's what initially impressed your training captain. You had a drive despite being depressed as shit. Which, maybe you lied to your recruiting officer. And the doctor. And your training sqaudron. But what's a little lie compared to staying in that drug den you reluctantly call home?

The harsh drills and tense, full body aching was nothing to you. Not compared to watching your mother be strung out on a stained, burned, broken couch while being left in the drug dealers care. Hell, or even when you had to help her find a dehydrated vein with a short and dull needle. Perhaps something that you considered a life saving skill, but it made you feel disgusting if you thought about it for too long.

You've been shifted around a few bases when you were needed, seeing as you were sort of an everyman. Excelled in the maintenance of weaponry, one hell of a mechanic, and maybe a few things you knew how to do that were definitely against the Geneva Convention. To be fair, though, if you had to decide between dying and using a makeshift gun that was severely out of regulation, you'd take your chances in court.

But all of this shifting around and half assed childhood you had lead to even more goddamn problems you didn't need. Often, maybe every few nights every single week, you dealt with insomnia. Bad weeks had you trying to fight the uncomfortable disorder every night, but you lucked out with having to deal with it half the time usually.

It was always so uncomfortable. The inside of your skin felt like it was covered in small pyramid-shaped cones that pressed into every nerve where there was pressure. Your eyes were heavy but never heavy enough to induce sleep. Your mind would never fog up the way it was supposed to. And it drove you absolutely crazy.

You had a few ways to deal with it, as most chronic sufferers do. Sometimes you accepted it and laid there until pure exhaustion won. Your worst option.

Most of the time, though, you'd already spent a few hours hoping, tossing and turning in restlessness before getting up. You'd lace your boots and try to walk it off. Speed up the exhaustion process manually. And it worked maybe 50 percent of the time. And you'd collapse back into your bunk, shoes still on and pillow over your head, and get just enough sleep that you wouldn't hate yourself in the morning.

And the nights that even that didn't work, you'd find yourself in the kitchenette of the rec area. You'd stare desperately at the coffee pot you were using to heat up water while you waited to choke down a bland, bitter chamomile tea. You couldn't stand tea on its own. You didn't have a sweet tooth, but you could accept when something needed a little bit of sweetness.

This often settled you down enough. The overwhelming tired made you cry in the barely lit room while your tea steeped, palms pressed into your burning eyes as you wished you'd just fucking sleep. And you'd stop. You'd drink your tea. And get enough sleep to function.

And you fell into this pattern and habit.

Until this one mother fucker.

See, you ended up being called in to aid in the upkeep up vehicles and guns at a fairly large base that served as home grounds to plenty of "real soliders". You didn't pay mind to many of them, but Captain Price's team at least treated you decently since you were the one making sure their guns jammed significantly less. However, Ghost creeped you the fuck out.

That teams lieutenant was horrifying to you. He stood way too tall, was way too broad to move that fucking quietly. He held this awful aura to him that was completely unreadable. And he barely ever spoke to you in a way that didn't feel like a back handed... well, you wouldn't even call them compliments. The man would stare more often than breathe, just watch you move about your job from the doorways and wait for you to notice he was there before declaring that he would have been able to kill you six different ways by that point. You've been able to get that number down to four, at least.

And for some reason. This also included your overstimulated and tired crying time at the coffee pot at 2 a.m. as well. It seemed like it was his third time just watching you when he spoke up for the first time, mostly just asking what the hell you were doing. You'd jump out of your skin, a blessing of a feeling if it didn't shoot unnerving shivers down your spine, and stammer out a half coherent response about tea leaves. And then he just... stood there. Watching you drink your tea and then leave after you were done.

At some point during this routine, he'd started to invite himself to sit across from you at the small table. He never really struck up conversations, though you swore you could see amusement in his eye as you made faces at the bitter tea. He knew you were burning the leaves, but he couldn't tell you that. Listening to another person rip into him about being British was very low on his to-do list.

This became comfortable. You began to tolerate his shadow-like presence. Maybe even enjoyed the silent company. You could guess that he was suffering the same just from how tired his eyes looked past the mask. Maybe he too found solace in a shared solidarity that you two really haven't expressed. It was bittersweet. Two barely functioning and sleep deprived people finding a space to relax, lit only by a half burnt out overhead lamp. Maybe, even if a bit selfishly, you had begun to go a little morr often judt for the company of a man you didn't know the actual name of.

Ghost never left before you, but only arrived after you began heating some water. He never had a cup himself, sat himself in the same chair, and limited himself to a handful of yrs or no questions a night. You didn't mind.

But he once again found a way to disrupt this routine.

You were reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet above you, your other hand grabbing the coffee pot of hot water. You heard him move, which honestly should have been your que to turn around, and you felt him standing directly behind you. He covered your hand on the handle with his much larger one and practically forced you to let him grab the pot. He grabbed two mugs and moved off to the side, only meeting your eyes when you didn't move.

What ever fucking compelled him to do that, you had no idea. You were staring with bloodshot eyes and still even had your hand vaguely where the pot was. He simply nodded his head to the table and turned back to the mugs.

Guess you weren't making your tea? Deep down, thr angsty teen part of you hoped it was the forever sleep kind of deal. But that was dumb, so you shook your head a little to ignore that.

Ghost set your mug down on the table before sitting himself across from you, lifting his mask up enough to take a drink.

You've yet to see him do that, so your brain was just kind of off at this point. You stared, not that you meant to, as the man replaced his mask and set his mug down, staring back at you with a quirked brow. You looked down in a daz3 before grabbing your own mug, taking a long sip. Did he make a different kind of tea? Why the hell did it taste so... so much better? Your confusion actually earned you a small laugh from the other, a quiet, muffled chuckle from under his mask. That shouldn't have given you butterflies. He still scared you, after all.

He never explained himself, but from then on, you left the tea making duties to him and he didn't seem to mind. You fell into the pattern of getting there before your insomnia got into full swing every night, starting the water and getting the mugs. Then your midnight partner would show up and handle the rest.

As much as the mask gave you the creeps, it was growing on you. Like the previously bitter tea. 

[boredzillenial]

Attitude Adjustment

A friend of your fathers pays you an unexpected visit you aren’t likely to forget.

Themes: dbf!william, mentions of alcoholism, dub-con, mainly brat taming by any means necessary (spanking, slapping, fingering,etc)

Word Count: 3,012

Authors note: proof read on a phone lol, If peeps like this I’ll make a continuation!!

You were aware of Williams existence in the way that most people assume their parents have friends. You knew they served together overseas, and the many nights your father spent drunkly watching trash tv told you it most likely was not a pleasant tour of duty. You also knew like clockwork growing up that you could sneak out with a couple of shots in your belly and see your friends most nights.

You grew up rough, and without a mother and a constantly drunken father you grew up with a mouth like a sailor and the attitude of a grown man. After some time apart from him and a bit of therapy you’d just started to get “better” but there was a deep anger and attitude toward your father you just hadn’t managed to shake. So you were surprised that out of the blue your father had arranged to meet you in Vegas for some “quality time”, but that he had not arrived at the hotel yet and it had been several hours.

Finally you heard a knock at your door, but when you make your way over and look through the peephole you see a vaguely familiar face. “William?” You say confused as you open the door.

“Hey, sorry I’m surprised you remembered.” He puts on a forced smile.

You furrow your brow and cock your head to the side, “Is there a reason you’re at my door?” You ask bluntly.

“Ah, there it is.” He smiles a bit more honestly and looks you in your eyes when he asks “Mind if I come in?”

“A bit,” you say as you begin to close the door, starting to get annoyed by his presence. As you go to shut it there is a firm stop and you see his knuckles around the edge of the door.

He pushes, gently but firmly and steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Your father asked me to come talk to you.” He said as walks further in and sat his bags down on the desk near the bed.

“Oh you’re making yourself comfortable, great.” You say and toss your hands a bit, walking over and sitting on the armchair. “Well alright let’s get it over with.” You cross your arms.

He opens a bag and pulls out a white sheet, neatly and methodically tucking it over the bedding then sitting down on it and matching your stance as he crosses his thick forearms.

“What’s with the sheet?” You nod at it.

“We’ll get to that -“

“What’s he want you to talk to me about?” You say curtly.

He laughs and looks down at the floor “We’ll get to that too. If you don’t interrupt” he raises a brow and looks up at you.” You put your hands up in a gesture of peace and sink further in the chair. “Well, when was the last time you really spoke with him.”

“It’s been a few years, I’m sure he’s told you all about it.” You say very matter of factly. “Then emailed me with plane tickets and a booking reservation for this place out of the blue.”

“He has -“ he nodded “he told me you’re very angry, and bitter.” He stares at you waiting for your response.

You chuckle “That’s one way to put it.”

“He also told me, that he knows he fucked up -” He leans forward, putting his forearms on his knees to stare directly into your eyes “Look I’ve known him for a long time. And I know when last we spoke, the fear in his eyes was real.” He strained.

“Fear?” You questioned.

“Fear of losing you. Fear that you’ll hate him forever. That you’ll walk around with this bad attitude and a chip on your shoulder for the rest of your life.” He clenched his jaw.

Your heartbeat sped up at his directness “Ah so he had you come down here for what, a quick therapy session hmm? Some sort of fucked up come-to-Jesus meeting?!” You stand as your anger builds at the audacity. “You know what you can leave, I’m not doing this.” You move to walk towards the door and his arm shoots out across your shoulders stopping you in your tracks.

“Stay, please” his voice strained as if he was struggling to remain pleasant. The shear intensity of his eyes, the set of his jaw, you back up quickly and sit back in the chair. He lets out a low sigh and pinches his brow. “Alright look, your father didn’t actually set any of this up or send me. I… I did. I decided to come talk with you after I saw him a week or so ago.”

You raise a brow, “So what is this exactly. What’s your goal here.” You lean forward in the chair, “Did you think you could just force yourself into my hotel room and make me forgive him? That one short conversation would fix years of issues?!” Your voice began to raise as the pain from the past began welling up.

He watched silently as you continued, his deep brown eyes softening a bit. “You really think you can fix any of what he’s done? Or the years of shit he didn’t do?” Tears well up in your eyes as the anger sends your heart thundering in your chest. He kneels down in front of your chair and puts his hands on your knees in an attempt to steady you. You look away from him, anger building now at the look of pity in his eyes.

He grabs your chin gently and turns your head to face him. He looks deeply in your eyes as he says “I can never make it right. I can never prevent that pain from happening or apologize for him.” You shake your head out of his grasp and scowl as hot tears fall down your face. He sighs and continues, “But what I would like to do is help you release. Help you learn to let go so you can live without anger eating you up inside.” You move to stand he places a hand on your chest to stop you. Something shift in his eyes at your attempt “I’m gonna help you whether you like it or not.” He growls.

“Who the fuck do you think you are.” You growl in return and grab his wrist to move his hand but it doesn’t budge.

He smirks “I’m so glad you asked.” He backs up and stands. “I’m the one whose gonna fix that attitude. And I’ve got a few ways to do it.” He takes a step back and reaches into his bag. He pulls out rope, a paddle, and of all things a vibrator.

You freeze and look at the items he’s laid methodically on the bed. “You can’t be fucking serious…” you say breathlessly as you stare at the vibrator and feel the heat in your body rising.

“Oh I’m dead serious.” He smirks “You’ll learn to let go one way or another… So, if you don’t talk with me. We’ll have to resort to my alternative methods.” He looks down at his tools with a smirk for a moment, and you take that moment to bolt for the door. You hear him let out a grunt and his footsteps thud as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist and hoists you up. You kick like crazy and go to scream before he throws you on the bed and clamps a hand over your mouth. “None of that.” He glares “I do have a gag, don’t make me use it…”

You freeze, the look in his eyes deadly serious as he keeps his hand clamped over your mouth. “Now, I think for that little stunt you’ve already earned a little something… Have you ever been spanked before?” He says softly. Fear spreads across your face as you shake your head slowly. “Of course you haven’t.” He scoffs.

“I’m gonna sit on the bed and you’re gonna bend over my lap. Do not try to scream or run again or things are gonna get a lot more difficult for you. Understood?” He nearly growls just inches from your face. You nod slowly and he releases the grip from around your mouth. He stands, looking you over for a moment before nodding and sitting beside you on the bed. “Come on.” He pats his lap.

You remain where you are as you look at him. Processing whether he really meant what he said when he threatened things would get worse if you run. The smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and shimmied off the bed. You stood and adjusted your clothes for a moment as you looked down at him. His eyebrow raised in challenge, almost daring you to try to make a run for it again. You take a deep breath and go to take a step but everything is screaming inside of you to run for the door.

“Here…” he pats his lap again staring you down. You don’t move, your heart thunders in your chest as your eyes lock on his lap. “Now!” His order jolted you out of your momentary trance. You grit your teeth and awkwardly lean across his lap, unsure in your movements. You let out a sigh as you settle across his lap. “Was that so hard?” He said, the softness of his voice contrasting the shout from before. “You’re gonna count -“

“How many -“ you begin to ask then SMACK, his hand comes down on your rear, the soft pj pants doing nothing to protect you from the sting. Tears well up and you bite your fist to stop from crying out.

“Stop. Interrupting… You’re gonna count after every one. I’ll stop when I say we’re done. Now, because of your interruption you lose these.” He yanks your pj pants down to your knees. Exposing the fresh sting to the cold hotel air. You squeeze your eyes shut as you realize what he’s seeing. “Going commando huh?” He chuckles. “That’s make this much more interesting…” he SMACKS your other cheek, this time you can’t stop the yelp that jumps out of your throat.

“Two.” You whimper.

“Oh no, that first one was just for me. This is one and this -“ he smack again “is two.” You curl over his lap and can’t help but wiggle as the sting sets in. You feel a firm hand run up your back over your shirt. Fingers intertwine with the hair at the nape of your neck and your head is pulled back so you are looking at him. “Don’t. Struggle…” he moves your head back down to focus on the pattern in the hotel carpet as he continues to deal out your punishment. You manage to count to 8 before tears are falling steadily and you could feel wetness gathering at your core.

He tuts and gently runs his hand over the raised handprints on your rear and you lurch away and yell at the radiating pain. “Shhh shhh. These stung but they won’t bruise. You’ll be sore for about 24 hours and you’ll be fine.” He says softly as he moves his hand to run up and down your back. You can feel him lean to inspect his work. “Oh.” You hear the surprise in his voice. He moves his hand from your back to your rear and pulls you apart “would you look at that.” He chuckles as you feel a finger run up your slick center. You gasp and look back at him in panic.

“Stay.” He says curtly as his fingers continue to explore. He swirls gently through your folds and down to your clit which drew out a groan and your legs flexed to try and close. He spanked your ass again and you winced “Stay…” his voice grew darker and you could feel the tightening of his pants against your stomach as he swirled around that bundle of nerves again. Another groan rumbles in your chest as he works and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Good, just breathe.” He said softly as he moved up toward your slick opening. He sunk a finger deep inside causing you to gasp. “Shhh just breathe”. He cooed as his other hand rubbed your back. Your face grew hot and you felt confusion and shame bubble up as he worked his finger in and out of you slowly. He leaned toward your ear. “I think you’re ready for a couple more”. He said as he pulled his hand back then sunk three fingers deep into you.

You grit your teeth and whimper as he stretched you deliciously with his fingers. “You’re doing so well.” He praised as he continued as he shifted again to look at his working hand. “So tight-“ he rasped and that prodding at your stomach grew firmer as he adjusted his legs slightly. “I wanna feel you come on my hand.”

You crossed your arms and did your best to bury your face in your arms as he continues to pump his dexterous fingers into you. “P-please.” You stammer as your feelings conflicted between pleasure and shame.

“Please what,” he slowed down “what do you need.” He leaned back towards your face.

“I can’t… like this…” You weren’t sure how to explain to him you needed more attention at that bundle of nerves in order to meet his request.

“Ah I see. Stand up”. He pulled his fingers out of you and helped you stand. You tried to pull the hem of your shirt down as you stood with your lower half exposed infront of him. “You won’t need that”. He pulls and your top and sports bra come off in one swift motion. He took a moment to almost lean back as he took your naked form in. “Goddamnit” he sighed with a smirk. “Get on the bed.”

You moved quickly and winced as you sat down on the soft mattress and snapped your legs shut. His smirk remained as he shook his head. “Open, or I’ll do it for you…” he leaned toward you. Instinctively you attempt shimmy backward and wince again at the friction against your tender rear. He quickly grabs your ankles and yanks you to the edge of the bed. It feels as if it takes him very little of his strength to pry your knees apart, exposing your slick core to him.

You felt fear rise at the excitement in his eyes. He pulled you forward again so your ass was at the edge of the bed as he knelt down. You looked down at him as his eyes darkened and he lunged forward.

The heat of his tongue split you open and sent you reeling. You weren’t sure how he’d start but diving his tongue as deep as he could while nuzzling your clit with his nose what not what you expected. You arched and clung to the tight white sheet he put down as he continued.

Then as suddenly as he started he stopped. He looked up at you with a devilish grin as he wiped his face. “Couldn’t help it.” He chuckled as he adjusted so he was laying beside you. He ran his hand across your chest then up to your throat, gripping it firmly as he forced you to look into his eyes. “Your eyes stay right here. Understood?” He growled.

You gulped and nodded. His hand released from your throat and trailed down to your body. His eyes bore into yours as his fingers curled inside of you. First one, then another, finally stopping with three. You gasped and arched against him, his arm and fingers like steel as he continued keeping you in place. He began to slowly pump in and out of you. The addition of his thumb on your clit sent you reeling as you bit your lip and fought to keep your eyes open. “That’s right, eyes on me.” He rasped, a blush creeping his own face as his breathing became uneven.

He kept his eyes on yours as he adjusted to kneel on the bed beside you. He worked his fingers harder and began to play with your chest. Eliciting another groan as he grazed his other thumb over your sensitive peaks. This time you couldn’t help but to close your eyes to enjoy the sensations he was pulling from you. As you felt pleasure building you felt a stinging slap across your cheek and that firm grip around your throat. Your eyes shot open as he was leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “Eyes. On. Me.” He punctuated each word with a firm thrust of his fingers and your hips bucked in response.

“Y-yes…” you groan, your mind swimming with the tension that threatened to snap you in two.

He picked up to a punishing pace as he continued to stare you down. When you came you did so hard enough to nearly headbut him as you arched and writhed. But he kept his pace, his grip on your throat, and the press of his head against yours steady. Anchoring you in place. “Good, good girl. Let go, I’ve got you.” He encouraged as you rode wave after wave of pleasure. His pace slowed as you began to jump instead of writhe due to your oversensitive clit.

He pulled back and pulled his hand free from you. You and he both breathless and sweaty as he licked his fingers clean. Heat rose in you as you watched him close his eyes and hum at the taste of you on his hand. As he finished he looked back down at you with a smirk. “That was a good first step.” He chuckled.

“First step?” You questioned softly.

“Oh honey, this is gonna be a long night with many steps.” He chuckled, undoing his belt as you hear a loud zip.

—————

Masterlist

[mychlapci]

I think at some point, the rescue would have to recognize that this is as good as it gets for k9 Prowl and just… have to place him with a long-term caretaker. They’re not about to execute a mech for being abused, no matter how difficult his circumstances make him to care for. They have to transition him out of the rescue setting when they stop making good progress; they need that kennel for new rescues. Personally, I bet leaving a rescue setting to a ‘home’ setting would actually have more results for Prowl’s healing but idk. He’d officially be a retired k9 unit, still much closer to a pet mech than a person. But consistent 1-on-1 attention is what he needs.

And a dedicated caretaker could probably adjust to the fact that yeah, making Prowl sit at a table to eat freaks him out a lot more than letting him sip his cube on the floor next to them. As long as you let him sit on the floor, he’ll drink his cube like a person instead of mashing his face into it. Added bonus: it doesn’t put him in high alert and leave him anxious and high strung all day.

Teaching him to use the toilet is easy, but the shower is harder. Prowl hates being dirty but fears the small box with the loud rain!! He doesn’t like the hose!! He will, however, consent to being wiped down with a rag. And he loves a warm bath, no matter how impractical. His caretaker will let him sit in it until the solvent/water gets cold because 1) he loves it and 2) he will /sulk/ if you take him out before he’s ready. Prowl will even paw at himself with the rag a little if you leave him one! Self grooming is progress, no matter how clumsy.

Getting him to speak freely is infinitely harder, but he’d have no problem learning the “check in” command! It only makes sense that his handler wants to know Prowl’s condition, after all. They’d have to trick him into having opinions, but taking him for walkies is a great way of getting him to use his mind and his words. All it takes is a little hmm-ing or a “I wonder what happened here?” and Prowl almost cannot contain himself. Full body wiggles trying to keep his mouth shut, but /this/ owner wants him to speak so? Maybe? It’s okay? And he’d veeeery carefully answer— just a quick, quiet one!! Nothing too bad, he’s still a good boy! But they only smile at him and pet him a little on the shoulder. Not the helm, not on their walkie. Prowl’s performing the “undercover” command, so he’s walking like a real mech. Perfect for keeping criminals from realizing there’s a k9 unit sniffing around, you know. His new handler knows so many tricks.

The cage thing I don’t think they’d ever truly manage to get around, not even in a far future of this au where Prowl has been tricked and coaxed into being a real person. But they /would/ manage to transition him from a true kennel to a box bed situation. At least he’s on a mattress with a blanket and pillows, even if his situation is still odd.

I also don’t think they’d ever manage to get him living fully independently. He’s spent too many years being treated like a beast and blindly obedient to any sufficiently stern authority figure. Prowl’s missed out on key formative experiences and life skills that just… don’t take for him. There’s some things he will just never get, no matter how long he lives. Grocery shopping is a special struggle, with all the choices and the sensory overload. He and his caretaker will share a long fucking laugh when they realize that the caretaker is effectively /Prowl’s/ working animal now. His emotional support mechanism, if you will.

But I think the most critical healing experience would be encountering one of Prowl’s “puppies” in public and him just realizing that that is a /person/. Recognizing his own face or wings or chevron in some cute little sparkling and just. Staring. A carrier never forgets the scent of their kid. He knows that’s his baby. Maybe the kid recognizes him instinctively despite not ever really having known him and runs right up. All Prowl can do is cup their tiny face in his hands and press his chevron to their tiny one. And this tiny, little, /free/ person is someone that /Prowl/ made. And if he carried a person and not a puppy… what does that make him?

Yesss... Prowl never truly recovers. It's not unheard of, but it's rare. Most of the k9 units and other mechs-turned-pets usually yearn for freedom and the right to command themselves, but Prowl just. Doesn't. He takes orders from the enforces, captures and mauls criminals as per their demand, and that's it.

He never really relaxes. He's notably safer with his new handler, but in his mind, he never really stopped being a prized k9 unit. They learn what makes Prowl tick and how to loophole around his inability to act like a person... But oh, oh, the sparkling changes things. Prowl knows it's his. It came out of him after one too many visits from enforcers in the dead of the night. It walks on two legs and for how young it is, it talks without regulation. It's allowed to do that. The little one is growing up to be just like the mechs around them. It's not an animal.

Perhaps Prowl musters up the courage to question his own position in this world one day... but until then, he's perfectly content sitting at his handler's feet. Obediently.