#these two would not get together right away. It would take a long time. And there would be ups and downs.

[luveline]

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧

Clark is so completely oblivious to your flirting that you start to wonder if he even understands what flirting is. (He does, and he can prove it.) fem, 3k

˚‧꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱‧˚

“Hey, Kent.”

Clark’s answering smile is enthusiastic, but little else. “Hey. How are you, how’s your morning going?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

He takes this more seriously than you’d expect. Or, exactly as you’d expect apparently, because this is Clark you’re talking to. “No one’s made you a cup of coffee?” 

“Well, Jimmy offered, but, alas. Nobody has hands as skilled as yours.”

He nods like this is a given. “I can make you one. Decaf?” Clark laughs loudly at your crestfallen expression. “I’m kidding. Be right back.” 

With caffeine and Clark Kent, your morning promises to improve. It was destiny, fate, and one kind boss that put you in the desk to the right of Clark’s. He’s made good out of a bum deal sandwiched between his desk and a pillar, having turned the pillar into a home for his corkboard and sticky notes. You study him often, his hair kissing the wall each time he leans back to watch the office television. 

You just need to say the right thing to him. To get him to notice you. If he rejected you, you’d stop, of course you’d stop, but Clark hasn’t so far acknowledged your flirting, and even that would be enough to put you off the whole thing if Jimmy hadn’t fanned your flames a few weeks ago. 

He definitely doesn’t know you’re flirting, Jimmy’d said, mouth half full of popcorn, the other half milk duds, that’s what happens to boys when they come from a home on the range, my friend. No game. 

You’d laughed at his grand bravado and kept that information stored away. Clark does seem a little… inexperienced, when it comes to adult life. He’s perfectly normal as things go, but he’s hopeless when it comes to dating. A few weeks ago, a woman at the bar closest to work had asked him if he’d buy her a drink and Clark, all manner of sympathy in his eyes, had asked if she lost her wallet.

So you assume him unknowing and carry on valiantly. “Kent,” you say now, resting your hand on his shoulder, “can we have lunch together?” 

“When, now?” 

“Whenever’s best for you, babe.”

He quirks a smile. “I’m always hungry.”

“I know. I brought you something.”

“You did?” 

“Mm-hm. Put your monitor on standby and come find me.” 

He doesn’t let you get far, his hand pressing lightly to the small of your back as you break for the office kitchenette. “What sort of something?”

“Sorry?”

“What did you bring me?”

“A special treat for a special boy,” you murmur, mostly joking, ever so slightly salacious, and far too much for the setting. 

“You’re leaving me in anticipation here.”

“Is there any other way to leave you, Clark?”

He gives a well-meaning shrug. “Sure, you usually like to leave me hanging.” 

“Don’t be mean. I’ll keep your treat for myself. You know I will.”

Clark chuckles. The sound never fails to light you up from the inside out, has you rushing to the fridge to get your two Tupperware boxes for sharing. You hand one to Clark, the other housing your boring dinner. He slides his arm under yours before the fridge door can close and effectively boxes you in as he grabs his own lunchbox. Your faces are close enough to kiss. 

You take the proximity gratefully, cataloguing the gentle lines of his face. His eyes are beautiful, and light, a warm blue that refuse to dip down to your lips as yours fall to his. You give them a longing stare. Clark collects his lunch and backs away from you. 

He leads you to a table together while shaking the box you’ve given him. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

“It’s not like it’s see through, or anything.”

He grins, eyes averted. “I’m going to guess what it is by sound.” Clark turns the box on its side. “Too soft a noise for cookies. If it were fairy cakes again, I’d hear the paper. And we’ve sworn off of caramel after you almost lost your incisor.” 

“So?”

He sniffs. “Brownies.”

“Cheater.” 

“I’m not cheating,” 

“You are! You’re smelling them, I know you are, they’re chocolatey enough. Just the way you like them, if you even care.”

“Of course I care,” he says, finally letting himself look down at the Tupperware, eyes lit with joy. “Oh, these look beautiful.”

“Well, I tried my best.”

“You didn’t have to go to all the trouble,” he says, even as he pops off the lid and lets out a pleased, decadent sigh, like a king looking over a vast sea of riches rather than four dark squares of fudgey brownies. 

“I don’t mind, Clark. I like doing things for you.”

He eats his brownies. He eats his lunch. You press your ankle to his under the table and smile when he doesn’t pull away, again when he washes your plastics and returns them to you towel-dried for your bag. He says, “Thank you for my treat,” with a small pat to your shoulder. 

Hours pass slowly, but then it’s your long awaited home time and you’re not interested in being alone just yet. 

“Could I ask you something?” 

Clark eases the loop of your tote bag back onto your shoulder. “Always.”

“Would you walk me home?”

“Today?” He holds your arm. “Everything okay?” 

“Would you believe me if I said I’d just really like your company?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Come on. We can beat the rush on the tramline if we hurry.”

You don’t beat the rush hour traffic on the tramline; the tram stations are all lined with people two-thick, so you take the slightly longer way on foot from the office to the quieter residential area where you live. The sky is moody, though the sun stays eager, following the backs of your necks past Metropark and Mr. Caleb’s corner store. 

“Wanna get shaved ice?” Clark asks. 

It may be warm, but it’s getting dark already and the idea of eating shaved ice in the dark is unpleasant. Still, he’s so charming, you end up shaking your head while you weave your arm through his. “Lucky you’re pretty,” you murmur. 

“We don’t have to. We could get coffee.” 

“You want to?” 

“I want you to be less sad,” he says. 

“I’m not sad.”

“No? You seem… I don’t know. You seem sort of defeated. Did something happen at work today? You aren’t acting like you would.”

“How do I usually act?” you ask curiously. 

He wrinkles his nose at you. It’s a fond gesture. “Like you. You’re so yourself. I don’t like seeing you down.”

“I’m not down, Clark. But I don’t know, maybe I’ll ask you something.” 

“Sure. Anything, I’m an open book.” 

You size him up. 6’ ridiculous (or 6’4 if he’s to be believed) and brazenly kind, even the look of him, a nose that’s pleasing to see, would be better to kiss, the lines in his cheeks from his smiling and his crow’s feet crinkle right at the corners of his eyes. His dark grey suit and the skinny red tie you occasionally tug between two fingers. Clark isn’t an open book. He is notoriously hard to get a read on, and he should know this. He drives you crazy. 

“Ugh,” you mumble, rubbing the space between your eyebrows. 

“It’s okay, honey.”

You narrow your eyes at him around your hand. “Clark, are you hard of hearing?”

“What?” 

“I’m genuinely asking. I know it’s a very rude thing to presume about someone out of the blue, or, to ask about, but I figured maybe you have an audio processing issue or something?” 

He doesn’t recoil as some might, or get offended at the question, as personal as it was. “I’m not hard of hearing. Why are you asking me that? Do I miss it, when you’re talking to me?”

“It’s like you aren’t hearing me, yeah.”

“I always hear you.”

“But… I say so many things, and your answers are so– neutral?” You frown at the deep confusion etched between his brows and catch a different thread. “When I said I wanted your company, earlier, you rolled your eyes. Why?” 

“You were joking.”

“Was I?” You untangle your arm from his to get a better view of his expression. “Why would I joke about that? Why else would I want you to come with me?”

“I don’t– I don’t know, you joke so often.”

“When?”

“Like, in the mornings. I ask how you are and you always say you’re better now you saw me.”

“That is quite genuinely true, Clark.”

“But it’s, like. You’re kidding. It’s like play-fighting, only…”

You wish you and Clark could’ve had this conversation sitting down. It would’ve been nicer somewhere quieter, but there’s comfort to be found in the quiet hustle and bustle of the tramlines whirring in the backgrounds, the single train track further from the main city, even the bump and beeping of Metropolis traffic. And there are people everywhere, chatting, walking, occasional laughter filtering through bursts of sound. You smile at Clark as someone out of sight lets out a roaring burst of giggles, enamoured with his own twitching smile, like even the hint of someone else’s joy is enough to bring colour to his day. 

“I could never put my hands on you, handsome. You’re too precious,” you say, almost shy. “Not play-fighting, by the way. I’m flirting with you, Kent. I have been.” 

He raises a hand to his neck, scratches. Lets it flop back down, his lips parting in surprise. “You are?” 

You hold your hands behind your back. “It’s not a joke, Clark. Honey. I’m sorry if I never made that clear for you. I definitely wasn't trying to make a joke out of things. Don’t get me wrong, I love teasing you, and sometimes I’m being hyperbolic, but I mean everything I’ve said. I hope you… hope you don’t mind.” 

You watch in real time as Clark goes a rosy shade of pink. Spreading across his nose, glancing up his cheekbones, a heated stain to evidence his embarrassment even as his lips stretch into a smile that’s unfailingly, untouchably pleased. His eyes go soft, his fingers tickling the back of your hand as he finds it, turns it, and grabs your fingers. Too impatient to thread them together. 

“Oh,” he says, giving your joined hands a sway. You watch him mouth it again. Oh.  

“Clark?”

“When we went to dinner, after Perry’s party, I should’ve paid,” he says. 

“What?”

“And– and there are so many doors I could’ve held for you.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says, sounding, for a second, genuinely agitated. It’s a stark contrast to the way he treasures your hand in his, rolling your fingers nicely. 

“Clark, I’ve been trying. For weeks. If anyone’s going to be annoyed right now, it’s me.”

He glares at you. That glare quickly softens, turning to more of a stickied, almost playful smile you fail to place on him. 

“What?” you ask. 

He takes a step into your space. “What?” he asks back. 

“I asked you first.”

Clark takes you in as you shift your weight from one foot to the other,  an uncomfortable warmth spreading over the back of your neck.  

“What?” you whisper. 

“Just looking at you.” 

You flare with embarrassment. “Do not,” you warn. The bite you’d tried for is more of a whine. 

“Don’t what? Look at you? How could I not?” 

“Clark, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” 

“Dead ridiculous,” you murmur, tail end of your words a breathy, harsh exhale as Clark leans into your space and presses his lips to your skin. 

Anticipation tightens every joint. Your brain catches up slowly, finds his mouth on your cheek, your cheekbone, and the corner of your eye, three soft kisses that threaten to bowl you over in the middle of the sidewalk, despite his hand clasped over yours and the other guiding your face toward his kissing. He presses a final kiss to your temple, takes a breath of you, and lets you fall away. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice, before,” he says, rubbing the back of your hand sympathetically, “but I know now.” 

You do your best not to stutter. “Sure. It’s okay.” 

“Yeah, it will be. Where do you want to go for dinner?” 

—

Clark has to confess to bone deep elation. Bordering childish, wildly grown up, he cannot contain or restrain the force of his affection. 

In less pretentious terms, Clark Kent is falling in love. You might’ve had the head start when it came to the whole courting side of things, but Clark would argue he’s pined harder, and for far longer, to the point of delusion: every flirtation was thought to be a joke. Some days he’d believe you, and others he’d go home thinking about a flirty, lovely girl who just likes to make her coworker smile. 

He can’t say he’d believe this, now. Picture you here, sure, achy mornings scrolling his phone in frustration, before tossing it aside to clutch a pillow to his chest, his nose in the case, trying to find your smell. What is it you always smell like? Your perfume. He’s awful at this stuff, knows so many smells but can’t make it out. 

Clark —lucky Clark, in there and now, elated— slips his arm over your chest and pulls you easily into his front. You’re practically weightless to him. 

“Mm…” you mumble. 

He shushes you mindlessly. 

Unfortunately, the sound only serves to wake you more. You doze weakly in his arms, a touch unsettled, all his fault for being selfish, so Clark rubs your back delicately and tries to repent. Wordlessly, he adjusts his arm under yours to hold your stomach in his palm, inching you backward, waiting for a sign. 

You let out a long, low sigh and fall mostly asleep again. 

Clark rests his nose in your hair. This is hard-worked but perhaps unearned, considering all your heavy lifting, but Clark will be damned if he hasn’t tried to make things up to you. The best, worst thing about you is that you find it all endlessly funny; Clark brings you flowers and you tickle him under the chin with their petals; he takes you out for dinner and you sneak off (unsuccessfully) to pay the bill during dessert; he tries to flirt, voice low and warm and pleading, and you ask him if he’d like to play fight. It’s your favourite joke. That’s if you aren’t blatantly pretending that Clark isn’t flirting. 

And you’re here now because… well. You haven’t fucked. Clark has —offered you things. Never wanting to take too soon, but needing you to have. And you’ve let him spin you around some, but tonight was because you just didn’t want to leave. Who was Clark to let you? You should have everything you want, including him, and including this. He’ll lay here stretching an ache out of your back all day if it’s your wish.

He tries to dial back the philosophical. Presses his nose further into your head and closes his eyes again. He’s tireder than usual, but that could be down to the late nights with you. He likes calling you, knowing you’ll answer. He likes listening to you talk, and he loves the casual flirtation you throw at him. Better now, because you know your crush is reciprocated. 

You smell incredible. Clark could fall to pieces about it. 

You wake up, then, Clark’s not sure why, holding his arm off of you to spin beneath it to face him, before forcing yourself under the curve of his chin to hold him. 

Clark doesn’t say anything in case you’re trying to get back to sleep again. He just waits, letting his fingers tumble the length of your back as it rises and falls. 

You don’t fall asleep again. 

“Hey,” you murmur. 

“Hi.”

“Good morning.”

“Better,” Clark says, tipping your head back by the nape of you, something right about it as you follow his hand back to show him your sleep-rumpled face, “now that you’re here.”

You turn your face into his arm. Clark can feel the heat of your skin, and thanks whoever there is to thank for the way that shyness and heat go hand in hand. You’re warm as a hearth against his skin, like a stripe of sun laid down and resting. 

“Steal all my best ones,” you mumble. 

“Best what?” 

“My pick-up lines.”

“Honey, I’m not flirting with you. Is that what you thought?”

He says it in a mumble. Presses it right into your mouth. 

Your first kiss had been somewhat of an oddity. No flirting before or afterwards, no pretenses, only a kiss. You’d been shy the day after your impromptu dinner and Clark hadn’t loved it. ‘Cos you’re adorable, but it had bordered too harshly on unsurety. Like you were waiting for Clark to take things back. 

His hands under your face to hold you. A wading of a kiss turned biting turned pleading, two shades of desperate and third pathetic. Clark had put everything he could into it. Translated months of longing, and the permanent ache that had come with your teasing.

This kiss is nothing like that. It’s melding your mouth against his with ease, meeting you halfway there as his hand carries you inward. Chest to chest, your little smile a lance against his own. 

“M’not flirting,” he murmurs. 

“Why not?”

“‘Cos you have me, baby.” 

You grumble weakly against his lips and take another kiss. “I like the flirting,” you say. 

“That’s too bad, huh?” He presses your shoulder to the bed, watches your eyes widen and then fall shut. “Maybe I can be persuaded.” 

“Flirt with me.”

“Nicer.” 

Your attempt to hide a triumphant smile fails. Clark doesn’t mind. 

“Please?” you murmur. 

He mouthed beautiful into the side of your neck. There’ll be time for the rest. Not that you’ll enjoy waiting —and not that he’ll mind giving in. 

˚‧꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱‧˚

Thank you bec for proof reading!!!!♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

[wolfie180g]

long post about my trees below

I (44yrs) quite literally quoted this to my dad (74yrs) yesterday when i showed him my 4 saplings that im letting grow in my yard that arent even a foot tall yet. He first said something like, they arent going to be big until you're in your 80s and then i shrugged and said the quote and he conceeded the point :) (i said best time was 40 yrs ago though)

I was at his house right before, talking about his trees and the way that they were growing around the swingset support he put between them. He nailed a board 10 ft high between two trees that were close together in his backyard less than 10 years ago, and hung a bench swing from the board. The trees are growing around the ends of the board.

I have about a dozen saplings in my yard that volunteered and i decided to not mow over because they were in the right spot to provide future shade in the yard. Hopefully, when im 70 or 80, i can have a swing between them too :)

I dont know which ones will make it to adulthood so thats why its so many. First tree i planted living here on my 10 yr anniversary is dying already at 3 yrs old. Some disease or insect infestation. and im very sad about that.

For other context, we recently had two major storms that took out hundreds if not thousands of trees, big trees, in our cities within 3 days. Nearly *every* house lost branches off of their trees or saw damage from the 90 mph winds and thunderstorms.

I love trees and two of mine are dying naturally from old age so im preparing for the bald spot in my yard. Thwyre pear trees and all fruit trees have a limited number of years before they just get too old and start to die. Mine loose branches every year, im just letting them look scraggly if they want. They were old when i moved in. The apple tree i had needed to be cut down, too big and rotten inside and dangerous. Dropping huge limbs and taking out my fence.

I have its saplings growing around where it used to be, bending the saplings into each other to support an urn like shape when they fuse together. A project that already is taking years. Bending the new branches into the cone shape and waiting for them to merge. I dont like having fruit trees. They came with the house, attract wasps, woodchucks that tear up my yard, and people trespassing to steal the fruit.

Some People think they are owed the fruit just because its there. I tried picking the fruit to give away but i still have strangers coming into my fenced backyard to steal them. No fruit, no trespassers. I dont even like pears lol.

If you like a thousand lbs of fruit a year, by all means grow an apple tree but, know that they are a hell of a lot of work. You will have to spray them at the right times of year to keep bugs off, then deal with animals tearing up your yard and eating the fruit before it even falls or ripens. Fermenting fruit droppings attract wasps and bugs by the tens of thousands. You simply cant get them off when you need to pick the fruit. You will get stung. A lot. Mowing over fermented fruit clogs your mower, youll trip on unseen apples/pears and try dodging pissed wasps the whole time youre mowing. Every week. And, best part is people will very quickly get tired of you throwing 11 lbs of apples at them every day. (I used to have two grocery bags filled with apples every day and would drive around and just offer them to pedestrians. No joke. Like a weird cryptid. The salvation army didnt like them if they had spots from bugs so i had to buy the sprays and chemicals to kill them off several times a year. Im not rich so that took a chunk of my income)

Imho, its better to just buy the few apples you want from the store. They look better, are bigger, have less bugs, and you can get a variety instead of the same apple a billion times.

But im rambling. Anyway, i just want to bring this back around and say, yes, please plant trees, just make sure its more than one sapling for security (see whivh ones healthier and lasts), and beware the novelty of having a fruit tree.

[raydiant-moon]

NIGHT 3

Animatronic Suguru x fem!reader x animatronic Satoru

Cw: MDNI! Swearing, manipulation, gaslighting, hurt, some angst, no comfort, fingering, groping, restraining, near death experience, gojo, and geto being mean, choking.

Divider credits: @strangergraphics

The rain pattered onto your window to your small apartment, and your eyes were wide open. Anytime they were closed, all you saw was them. Gojo and Geto, the two things causing you paranoia. You had to double take every corner. Every time you blinked, you swore you saw something out of the corner of your eye. Yaga called you eventually and you almost quit right then and there.

But he offered a bonus. You couldn't deny it. Money was your motivator and Masamichi Yaga. That damn owner saw it in you and exploited it to the max. But those two things were going to be the death of you. Yes, things. They weren't just animatronics, and they sure as hell weren't human. Nothing could move, have a conscious, and still be like that if they were just robots. They had to be some kind of craft sent from hell.

Taking a shaky breath you looked at the time. No sleep, no food, you were losing track. It was only 5pm. You'd been like this since the moment you left. The whole drive home you had to check your rear view mirror to make sure nothing had followed you home. You had eye bags, your skin paler than it should be, your stomach growled but you couldn't find the strength to leave your bed. Your sanctuary, just to get a bite to eat.

It was silent in your apartment, maybe that's what made it worse. Except for the little creaks it would give off, the building settling. To you, unsettling, it was hard to think that someone, something, wasn't walking out there. Taking in a shaky breath and exhaling, trying to close your eyes and think, it all seemed to blur together like your body had been set to automatic. And currently it was in survive.

Just survive.

The clock ticked and time seemed to become a figment of the void because as you stared at your white wall it went from 5pm, to 8pm, to 11pm like it was nothing.

Finally pulling yourself from the safe confines of your bed you began to sluggishly pull on your pants and put on your shirt. Tucking it and staring at the ground. Grabbing your belt and looping it. Looping it so tight to hope to feel something other then sheer terror at going back. One question rang in your mind as you now began to pull your hair up into a ponytail.

Why did you do this to yourself? Then it spiraled into more. Why were you so damn set on going back? When did you let your bar drop so low? Low enough to risk your life. Low enough to go back to the same terrifying experience over and over.

Maybe a sick part of you liked it. Liked feeling alive, like maybe running from an animatronic - thing - gave you some kind of adrenaline high. Were you an adrenaline junky? Fuck. Where did the line get drawn here? What was wrong with you?

You felt anger slowly bubbling up inside of you, but anger is a secondary emotion, you were just afraid. Staring at yourself in the mirror you looked lost. So damn lost, that when a single tear rolled down your eye you just stared. Because what did you have to cry for?

Turning away from yourself you grabbed your car keys and hat before getting on your boots and heading out the door. This was your job, this is what you were getting paid for. You don't get paid enough for it, but it paid the bills. That's what mattered.

The drive was nothing more of a memory. So zoned out, so in a sense of deja vu that you don't remember the turns, the stoplights, the signs. You just remember pulling into the parking lot, stopping your car, and looking at the front door. The gate way to hell.

Would this be your final night alive? Maybe, but the will to earn money burned stronger.

You unlocked the door to the building and walked in looking to the stage. The two already there, positioned the same, but that wouldn't last long. It never did. You slumped your way to the office and sat down putting your head in your hands. They would come, you knew they would, faster than before. So as the phone rang and you heard the creaks of that wooden stage, you closed those damn metal doors.

If you had to jam something in them to keep them closed you'd find a way because you wouldn't be doing the whole cat and mouse game again tonight.

"Hello, hello? Hey, you're doing great, most people don't make it this far they usually move on by now."

You kept your eyes on the cameras like a damn hawk. You would know where they were, and Gojo was already halfway down the damn hallway with a glare. He was staring at the camera, at you. He knew you were watching, waiting. And he was just waiting for that door to open.

"Things are going to start getting hard tonight. But you've got this, just hang in there."

Nothing could comfort your weary soul tonight. You knew it would be rough. Knew the consequences that awaited you. You had broken the rules. You wouldn't have been found if you had just stayed in that bathroom. Or would you have been?

You couldn't have guessed. You made the best decision given the situation. That's what you told yourself. That's what you had to believe.

Looking at the cameras like your life depended on it was your goal, but then again, both doors were closed, geto and gojo were already moving and you were so tired. That's all that could explain the ache in your bones and your soul, was tired.

Gojo was the first to arrive at the window, and his words spat like venom. Ugly and with an intent to hurt.

"Well, well, well. Look who comes back again. I didn't think you were stupid enough to try, but was I wrong."

Then geto following at the other window.

"Yeah, someone would think you're being held here against your will. But we know just how much you love to see us. You filthy fucking girl."

Tears began to roll down your face before you can even think or even stop them. You look between both windows and your power. 75%. It was going down by the hour. You'd be at 50 at 2 am, 25 at 3 am, and nothing at 4 am. Leaving you with two hours to pray.

"Awh Suguru, she's crying, sweet little thing like you. Sweet lying little bitch."

Gojo spat and hit the window with a force that shook the entire room. You began to cry more. Scared. They really were going to kill you. You really were going to die.

"I'm sorry..."

You whisper out small, but their ears catch it. Ears or whatever they had. They heard quite well. They could even hear the mouse in the kitchen snagging food from wherever it could find. And it found a lot.

Give a mouse a crumb, and they'll eat the whole damn meal.

That's what Geto thought after agreeing to let you all play hide and seek. They gave you a chance, and you used them. Used their trust and their faith in you.

Now you didn't get that privilege. You'd be stuck here with them forever now. You broke the rules, and you deal with the consequences. That's how it worked.

"Now, Satoru, listen to her apologizing so sweetly. She must have been terrified. Poor thing."

He cooed through the window with a false sense of security. A voice that screamed, "Come open the door, we won't hurt you." That was a lie if you had ever heard it. So you'd sit here. And they must have known that because they slid down the doors and they waited.

"Well, we will wait until your power runs out if you want to be such a disobedient little thing, but hey, remember those last feelings of security."

Gojo said as he methodically tapped a rhythm on the door. Far more scary than it needed to be. You would, you would enjoy your last moments, you guessed. A few more tears rolled down your cheeks, and you moved to wipe them away.

"You know, you could just open the doors and get this over with."

Geto said as he had now moved to the window to watch you in your despair. He didn't seem like he was mocking you, but he wasn't trying to comfort you either. It was as if you were taking the time out of his night and wasting it, and not like it was your life.

"Why do you do this? I mean even the past night guard, just tormenting them, us, into insanity. Does it somehow make you feel better?"

You begin to ask as you walk closer to the window that Geto is now standing at. He gives you a smile and sighs before opening his mouth, but immediately gets cut off by no other than Gojo.

"You mean Ijichi? That night guard was terrified of us, but at least he had brains. He simply didn't last long because brains can only get you so far sweets."

You turn around to face Gojo and walk up to the window he's at.

"And what did you do to him?"

You asked with a shaky voice.

"Nothing. That bastard was smart enough to leave on night 4. Some other dude took his place, and he was dead by his first night here."

You shivered and stepped away, you looked towards your clock and your battery. It was 2 am. Only 50 percent battery remaining. You still had two more hours to question them if you wanted.

"So how did you two even come to life like this in the first place? I mean, you wither had to be summoned like demons or you're AI. But Ai isn't this advanced."

To this, both Gojo and Geto go absolutely silent. It's as if they didn't want you to know what was really going on behind the scenes because if you did, you were too knowledgeable and had leverage on them? Who knows.

"Well, there was a man. His name was Toji, Toji zenin. He must've had some sick fantasy or something cause he killed us two and made us this. Animatronics, robots meant to live for the rest of eternity. However long that is."

Geto explained. So they used to be real people, real-life people that came to this place before they were killed and put in this position, and now they killed everyone else that worked here, for what revenge? Nothing was adding up. It seemed the more questions you asked, the more questions you gained.

You just sat there and nodded, but really, you weren't sure what to ask next, but one still rang I your head like a bell. Like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. And your lips moved before your brain could think to stop.

"So why do you do this then? Torment the night guards?"

Gojo scoffed almost as if your question was stupid, like you should already know why.

"Well, obviously for fun, but it's for payback. Payback to the night guard that did us dirty. I mean, he got his punishment. But this place can rot in hell, and we'll start by taking out the night guards. The people who did this to us."

Geto nodded to Gojo's words, and you looked towards the clock. 3 am. You were ready to call it quits. You only had one last hour, and no one go say goodbye to. No one that would miss you. The only person that would miss your life was you.

"But I don't want to die..."

You say solemnly as you sit in your office chair and pull your legs to your chest. A few more tears roll down your face, and the time seems to tick just a little slower just for you. Just to make you suffer every fucking second. Just to see if you will bend and break. You stand up and walk towards the door closed by geto and your hand hovers over the button.

He smiles, but not a comforting one, one that screamed he won. That he finally got into your head, and he had won. Your hand just hovers, and you tremble. You tremble and shake, looking back to the time.

3:10 am.

It had only been 10 minutes, and you already wanted to get this done with. Gojo must have taken the hint long ago because he was now at the same door with Geto. Waiting. They were both waiting for you.

"Come on, pretty girl. We all know the outcome. Might as well get this done with."

Geto coos and snickers. Gojo laughs with him and nods in agreement. One arm slung around his shoulder. You look up to them, your eyebags prominent, the paleness in your skin, the way you looked like you hadn't eaten. Finally, the tears that streaked your face. All looking back at them and Geto, for one second gave pause.

He saw how defeated you were and gave pause, but it left as soon as it came because they had a plan. The plan that gave then purpose, to kill, to get revenge, but a voice whispered in the back of his head that this girl was innocent. Why go after someone innocent. The resolve left as quickly as it came. He was ready. This was what revenge meant.

But then they both gave pause at your simple words.

"Please, make it painless and quick."

Then the door was open, and there you stood unmoving. Both of them just looking at you with widened eyes, and Gojos mouth was even slightly agape. You were just submitting. Just like that. You were giving your life to them.

You didn't even move back away, and somehow, this display made Gojo feel something. It made him crave you, he feel of your skin. You.

He moved first and embraced you. Not to stop your tears, not to make you feel better, not to reassure you. To feel you. With all possessiveness, all controlling power. He wanted you.

You could feel his hands gripping and letting go of you. Kneading the flesh between his hands. It was not as hard as he could, but still with fire, with control. You let out a sound like a choked sob as he did so. He just kept his chin on your shoulder.

So you watched as Geto then walked in, a smirk perched on his perfect lips. He approached from behind again, and his hands slid down the back of your thighs and then to the front.

His lips met your neck with tender cold kisses. His lips weren't human. Only metal, but it still felt intimate, like they belonged there. Gojo moved to kiss under your jaw line. Almost as if they were mapping out above your shoulders with kisses and mapping out below your shoulders with their hands.

"See, this could've been what you got each time you saw us, but you just had to go and be afraid."

Gojo whispered in your ear as he groped your sides and thumbed the waistline of your pants.

Getos' hands came up and groped your chest. He groaned and rolled his hips into your backside. There was nothing there, but it was the thought that counted. You mean maybe something was there, but you weren't curious enough to find out.

Gojo moved up until his mouth finally found yours. Pulling you back from your train of thoughts. Your hands absentmindedly pressed against his chest. Not necessarily to get him away, but maybe that was the plan. Push him away.

Getos' hands moved quicker, though, and he quickly gripped your wrists and pulled your hands behind your back. With only one of his hands. The other hand of his traced a line up your spine before wrapping around the front of your throat, and he just held you. Not with a tight grip but a possessive hold. Like this was where you belonged.

Then you felt it. Gojos hands at your belt.

"Pretty, please."

He whispered to you kissing your cheek.

"I'll be nice and gentle, just need the go ahead sweets. Come one please?"

He seemed desperate, like he wasn't lying like this was really what he craved was you. Not killing you, but having you. Like it was better to have you than to discard you.

So you nod. You nod your head and whimoer out a yes. That was all he needed before he was taking away your belt and shimmying down your pants. He groaned as a hand came to cup your clothed pussy.

You moaned and arched your back a bit. You weren't a virgin, but you hadn't been touched in so long, this felt fucking amazing. Forgive you for screwing a robot, but he was offering.

Geto whistled as he looked down at your unclothed bottom half.

"Fuck princess. You're gorgeous."

He says, continuing to kiss your neck, his hand still holding it.

That's when the power goes out. It was 4:30 am. Apparently, by only opening one door, you gave yourself an extra thirty minutes of power. Terrible for them, though. That meant they only had an hour and 30 minutes to have their way with you.

Gojo finally slips your panties to the side slides on finger into your wet cunt slowly. You shudder and let out a small whimper of a moan. That was until he began to move his finger, you didn't realize how long it was until it was hitting all the right spots.

You began to double over into Gojo, your head resting on his shoulder as he began to finger you gently. Fast but gentle like he needed you to finish, but didn't want to break you quite yet.

Then geto moves his fingers down and began to rub circles on your clit, gojo adding another finger. You're moaning louder, and your body is crumbling, but that's okay. Gojo reaches one hand up to hold your waist and steady you, and geto does the same. He lets go of your wrists and grabs the other side of your waist.

"See, wasn't so hard to be a good girl, was it? No you just had to act like a fucking bitch."

Gojo taunted his hand on your waist, quickly replacing where Getos' hand was on your throat, and he began to squeeze. It wasn't a pleasurable squeeze either. He was holding your throat with an intent to stop your breathing. Block your airways, but it only made you reach your climax. And you came all over Gojos hand.

Gojo released you, and you fell back into Geto in gasps. Your eyes are watering as you begin to cry. Geto tuts and lands a few light taps on your clit.

"Now, now. Satoru wasn't that mean. Dry those tears."

You try to hold in your cries as you look up at geto with wide eyes and then back to Gojo, who almost looked feral that you came on his hand. He smirked before wiping your own slick and cum onto your own jeans.

You look at the clock and it was only 5:10 am. You only had to last 40 more minutes. You just had to distract them for 40 more minutes.

You try to gain your breath with tears in your eyes, but it doesn't seem like they are close to done with you yet. Soon, Geto and Gojo have switched spots, but now you are laid down on the cold tile, your head in Gojos lap.

"Not so fast, princess. You think you can cum all over his hand and escape me scot free? You're funny."

Geto was meaner than Gojo he wanted to make sure you broke. He wanted to edge you until you begged for him to let you finish. Wanted to make you see white, see stars when you came down. And he'd make damn sure you came again.

Gojo would just be helpful and hold you down.

Geto immediately thrusted two fingers inside of you, and as you went to squirm away gojos firm hands were there to hold you down.

"No way, sweets. You heard him. He's not done yet."

You whined, and that was met with a slap to your thigh while Geto fingered you like there was no tomorrow. Like if he stopped, you'd dissappear. You moaned and tossed your head back, your eyes crossing, and once you felt yourself about to release, it was snatched from you. Because Geto would pull back with a laugh and wait for you to come down from your high.

Finally, after about the fifth time of edging you to your max, did Geto give you a countdown. He did the countdown as slow as possibly elongation the "o" in one and two. The "e" in three. He was trying to make you burst into tears begging.

And it worked.

"Please Geto, can't hold it anymore, please, please."

And when he had hit zero, you came, and you came hard. Like a freight train had hit you. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a higher pitched moan than before.

When you came to Geto, I was just smirking. Then you heard it. The bells of the clock. The night was over, and both him and Gojo laughed. Not even bothering to help you clean up as they stood and walked down the hall.

"See you again tomorrow night, night guard."

Gojo sang out happily while geto still laughed. You were so dead, so tired, so fucked out. It took a good amount of strength to get up and get moving. And when you did you were relieved to get out.

The worst part about it all was that you liked it. But now you had one more question in your mind.

Should you quit. Or survive another night?

Authors note: Oh my gosh, guys, I'm so sorry! I thought I had posted this yesterday, but I had totally just saved it to my drafts like a dork. I apologize so much! I hope this chapter was good though, had a little bit of a lore drop, teehee. But the real question is, night 4?

Taglist: @caffine-exe @fandomlover1235 @xaie @1tsv1v1an @aelita311 @ssetsuka @baby-bread-in @ilovedilfs1968 @your-civil-critter @lieeley @darilovessfood @lomllino @kdacase @classygumi @pussydestroyerlya @luns-exlipse @kuroxeal @ryukumi

[deansimagination]

Pretty in Pink

Plot: This is Part three of Warm Hands and New Flavors. Azriel and Reader are dancing about one another as they navigate their own confusing feelings for each other. Reader trains with Cassian and Azriel, and Azriel likes to make her blush.

Warnings: suggestiveness

Part one: Warm Hands and New Flavors

Part two: Too Sweet

Azriel was beyond frustrated, he couldn’t seem to shake you from his mind. You were just so captivating, and it bothered him to no end watching you interact with Lucian and Eris. Even though he was irritated when they would compliment you or when they would make you laugh, he couldn’t help but to pay attention to the conversation. He loved hearing you talk, and loved watching you work. Your talents were just so natural to you. Even when he was talking to Elain, he had to actively try to keep his attention on her. He knew he failed at that too because he had one year listening to Elain, but the other was trained on you. He did glance at you every now and then throughout the night, and you were very professional with the brothers as you just sat still in your chair, but he still didn’t like seeing you sitting there between them.

He truly wasn’t sure why you were getting under his skin so much, you’re very new to this court and he didn’t know you that well. Maybe you had gotten under his skin because he tried to be friendly with you, to which you pushed him away pretty coldly . Despite your cold shoulder, he still wanted to get to know you. Whatever awkwardness was happening between you wouldn’t be good, especially because you would be working together a lot extra extracting information for Rhysand.

~

Rhys had wanted you to begin training, since you would be spending most of your time in the field with either Azriel or Cassian. He thought it was important that you would be able to defend yourself were anything to happen. For some reason you failed to mention that you were trained— very well in fact. Your father was one of Keirs generals, unfortunately, but that did come to your advantage. He trained you, relentlessly. He wanted to make sure that you could protect yourself, but also that you were disciplined. He woke you up at the break of dawn to train for decades, at least as long as you were living under his roof.

Cassian was your starter and later you would spar with Azriel. Cass was supposed to show you basic fight stances, offense/defense movements, and how to wield a weapon. You wanted to see how this would play out, so you let him show you and guide you. You did learn a few things, since he fought like an Illyrian. Their fighting style was intriguing, and you could see the strength and balance in all of his movements.

“Why don’t you try a few” he encouraged, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a step back for you to start. You began your movements, mimicking Cassian’s lessons perfectly. You demonstrated his fighting stances, his offensive and defensive movements, and his posture. When you were done demonstrating all he had shown you, you looked to him.

“Where did you learn how to fight?” He grinned at you, you could see in his eyes he was impressed. You beamed back at him, happy and prideful that your years of discipline not only remained intact but also was evident.

“My father. He is one of Keirs generals. He had trained me everyday since I was able to walk and hold a sword.” You looked down at your feet at the memories, some good and some intense. He noticed your expression, approaching you slowly.

“I imagine it was hard to begin sabotaging Keir when you’ve been taught nothing but loyalty by one of his closest men” his eyes held sympathy as you looked up. You shrugged your shoulders.

“I had to do what I knew was right” you looked down at your hands, fidgeting under his stare. You hadn’t expected the goofy general to be so…. Emotionally in tune?

“I admire your resilience and your courage. It must’ve been difficult” he clapped a hand on your shoulder, and you were blushing. Not the way Azriel made you, but this felt like recognition from a colleague. Speaking of, Azriel walked into the training area right after Cassian had put his hands on your shoulder. His eyes narrowed on his hand, and looked up to your face to find that you were already looking at him. You glanced away, your already prominent blush darkening.

“Brother! I was just getting started with Y/N but it seems,” Cassian started but you cut him off, “that it must be time for sparring.” You gave Cassian a side glance, eyes full of mischief. He caught on to what you were doing, knowing that his brother was not expecting you to know how to fight. Not well at least.

“Lets get started then” Azriel replied looking between the two of you, something seeming amiss. You moved with him to the ring, and got in your fighting stances. You were going to do a little poorly this first round, so you could lower his expectations before the next one. You kept a tense posture, and moved your limbs a little too freely as you threw swings and kicks at him.

“You need to move your arms and legs with intention. And relax your spine” he advised, and you just nodded and hummed your agreement. You fixed your posture, but didn’t properly correct your punches.

“Im not going to go easy on you. I want you to learn” he said right as he crouched down and swept your legs out from underneath you. You fell flat on your back, and just looked at him as you tried to regain the breath that had been knocked from you.

“Noted” your breathily exhaled as he leaned his hand out for you to take. You took it before you changed your mind, ready to kick his ass now for real.

You both circled one another, he threw his first jab which you immediately dodged, throwing your own at his exposed side.

“Good” he remarked, making your mouth taste sweet, temporarily distracting you from him getting closer. You both threw your punches and swung kicks at one another, dodging and deflecting. Finally, he grabbed for your left wrist, and you let him. He spun you around, your back to his chest. He wrapped one arm around your neck, the other he held onto to keep your body locked… for now.

“Now what?” He asked, obviously wanting you to figure your way out. He didn’t know you had done this a million times. Your hands were free, as were your feet. You stomped on his foot, and swing a fist back at his groin. He loosened his grip, allowing your neck free. You immediately used this millisecond to push his body back, whirling on him. You charged at him using your momentum to push yourself off the ground. You put your hands at his shoulders to push yourself up even further, so you could wrap your legs around his neck. You had to use your core to twist your body, so that that your legs twisted with you, effectively bringing him to the ground.

You sat flat on your butt, your thighs wrapped around his neck as you lightly squeezed, not wanting to hurt him. He brought his hands to your thighs, trying to pull them off him, effectively giving you goosebumps but you only squeezed a little harder. He could try to pry your legs open with you squeezing harder all day, and he probably would be able to pry your legs off of him if your muscles got tired enough. But you didn’t want to waste your time doing that, and you didn’t want his hands hot on your thighs any longer, so you reached down, grabbing at his hair to pull his attention to you.

“How’s that for learning?” You smirked at him. He rolled his eyes, tapping your leg to let go, and you obliged.

“Yeah yeah, you tricked me” he smiled at you, happy that this moment wasn’t filled with tension. You got on your feet and helped him up, he almost pulled you down with how much he weighed.

“Little ol me tricked the Shadowsinger, did anyone else catch that?” You beamed, but you couldn’t even look around you, your eyes stayed locked on his hazel one’s.

“Ummm… I did” Cassian coughed out. You had forgotten he was here, and apparently so did Azriel because you both startled at his interjection. Cassian had a blush on his cheeks but a huge shit eating grin watching the two of you. He saw that you guys moved about the ring as if the two of you were dancing with one another, or like cat and mouse.

Your cheeks were flushed, having being caught in your own distraction with the Shadowsinger. You quickly took a step out of his warm space, and put your hands behind your back.

“I should head in to…” you blanked. You looked around the ring trying to find a single word to finish your sentence. You felt Azriel’s gaze on you, hot and heavy, which led you to “shower.”

They both raised their eyebrows at you in question but quickly let it go, probably confused by your sudden retreat. You turned on your heel and sped walked to your room.

~

What was Azriel doing? Why were you in his head so much. He couldn’t get the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head and neck out of his head. And he had felt your softness, but also your shifting muscles, in your legs as he tried to pull them apart to free himself from you.

He had liked your second spar together. It felt right, like you were magnets moving in tandem with one another. When he shifted, you did too. You were his mirror, his dancing partner. He also did not like the look in Cassian’s eyes, like he could see something unfolding that Azriel couldn’t.

After training a bit with his brother, he needed a shower himself. A cold one, if only to rid himself of any lingering thoughts of you. After his shower, he went to the library to find himself something to distract him, only to find his current distraction occupying his favorite couch.

“Mind if I join you?” He looked down at your form on the couch. You was wearing some soft pant/shirt set, perhaps made of a silk or satin. The cut of your shirt was scooped, and low enough to expose your clavicles, which he liked but didn’t know why. He looked up at your face to see your gaze fixed on him, making his ears warm up at being caught staring.

“Please” you only smiled, and gestured to the other side of the couch. His shadows brought him a book that he had been wanting to read as he sat down. Your legs stretched across the couch, almost reaching where he would sit.

You both sat there for awhile, reading in silence. You both missed each others gazes. He would look up from his book to look at you, and you would do the same to him. His shadows noticed, however, and decided to have some fun. They began weaving their way into your hair, making you giggle. His eyes shot up to you, only to see his shadows distracting you. His eyes sharpened as he tried to summon them back. You looked up at him, whispering softly “it’s okay, I don’t mind. I think they’re sweet.”

His eyebrows shot up, no one ever speaks about them like that. And they definitely seemed to like it because they swarmed you, tracing your skin. They traced your collarbones and lingered, just as his eyes had, and fell down to your arms and fingers. They trailed down to your thighs where they stayed. Your breath inhaled sharply, and he could tell now that the shadows were just teasing him. He summoned them more demanding this time, and they obeyed, only a few staying behind to lightly brush your cheeks like kisses. You beamed at them, having felt their affection for you.

“Do you mind if I move a little closer? My feet are freezing, and I’d like to ummm.. nudge them under your thigh?” You covered your face with your book, likely so he wouldn’t see your embarrassment. You were embarrassed, but also your toes were freezing which won over your embarrassment. He looked at your little socked feet and he laughed, “of course.” You lowered your book, and shyly smiled at him before scooting closer to him, nudging your feet under his warm thigh. You leaned back again, almost fully lying down on the couch. You both went back to reading, but before you both knew it, Azriel had absentmindedly placed a hand onto your shin, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. His movement made the rest of you shiver, which Azriel had noticed.

“Just come over here. I won’t bite… hard” he patted the space next to him, and you laughed at his comment. You sat up and scooched the rest of your body next to him. Feeling the warmth of his body radiating like a furnace. You were content sitting close to him like this, reading. Again, his hand found its way to your leg, your thigh this time. And he circled his thumb slowly, almost like this movement was for giving him comfort as well as you.

But it wasn’t comforting. You senses zeroed in on his touch, and his hand on your thigh honestly made you feel a little tingly and warm in places you didn’t want to admit to. Not as his coworker at least. You didn’t want him to notice any shift in your scent, so you stood up and politely excused yourself, even though your heart (and his shadows) tugged at you to stay there.

~

When dinnertime came around, you had to drag yourself from your room. You hadn’t trained in the weeks since you’d been here, making for some aching muscles already. You made your way down to the dining room, and found that mostly everyone was there already, just waiting on Cassian and Elain.

You saw Azriel sitting in the middle of three chairs, Feyre to his right and the seat to his left was empty. Across from him, Nesta sat with an empty chair on either side of her. Rhysand and Mor both flanked the heads of the table. You were going to sit next to Nesta and Mor, but your body tugged you toward the empty chair next to Azriel. Although you wanted to keep your distance from him, the idea of seeing him sitting next to Elain again had your stomach already turning upside down.

Azriel’s shadows buzzed about his shoulders, informing him of your approaching figure. When you reached the seat, he stood up out of his chair and pulled yours out. You sat down with a minor blush on the apples of your cheeks, and he pushed your chair into the table. He sat back down, and soon, Cassian and Elain joined the table. Dinner looked delicious, and you were excited to dig in. Massive dishes were being passed around the table to serve, but as you went to grab one from Azriel, he stopped you.

“Let me” he smiled at you, and you had to force yourself to look away from his gentle eyes. You nodded, and he served you food upon your plate. He did this with all the dishes, stacking your food high. He kept his eyes off you as he served, so you just watched him, a certain fondness in your own eyes. And the whole time, the Inner Circle was watching in both amusement and a sort of tenderness, seeing what was unfolding before their very eyes. Once everyone was served you all began to eat.

~

You had had a glass of wine. Maybe two. Perhaps even three. You didn’t know. All you knew was that you were enjoying this dinner, enjoying the food, and most of all enjoying the company. You felt your skin buzzing, and were almost certain that Azriel’s body had moved closer, feeling his warmth seeping into your skin. Feyre brought out a pie for dessert, to which Azriel volunteered to cut it up for everyone. You watched his hands and his precise movements. He was good with the knife, but you were entranced by how every movement of his fingers was made with intention. Azriel caught you though, and it made him slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t know why you were so locked on his hands, but he assumed you were probably scrutinizing his scars. When he was done serving the pie, he placed his hands into his lap, looking away from you.

The wine making your braver and bolder, you reached over and pulled his hand out. “Why do you hide your hands?” Your eyes gleamed at him, your pupils slightly larger than usual.

“Why were you staring at them?” He countered, not wanting to let his insecurities answer for him before hearing your own response. Your eyes widened and your ears reddened.

“Oh um… I think they’re beautiful” you looked down to his hand, your eyes somewhat glazed.

“Why?” Genuine curiosity was laced in his voice as he studied you, making you look back up at him.

“Your scars tell a story about your character. A story of resilience and strength,” you shrugged as if it was the most simple thing in the world, but he didn’t expect you to continue “but that’s not why I was looking at your hands.”

“Oh? And why, pray tell, were you looking at my hands Y/N?” Azriel questioned, but he was feeling hot. Your hand was still in his, and your compliment had made his heart beat a little faster. Your eyes were fixed on his hands, and your fingers had began to delicately trace his fingers.

“Your hands are just so strong and precise,” you admired as you traced a vein on the top of his hand, up to his wrist and forearm, effectively giving him goosebumps. Your eyes trailed the vein, knowing it most likely made it path into his shirt and up his bicep. Azriel was watching you, watching your eyes trail his hands and now his arm. He couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest being under your stare, under your admiration. Azriel reached for his own glass of wine when you admitted, “and you seem good with your fingers” immediately causing him to choke on his wine. The others around you were covering their mouths, trying not to embarrass you or distract you from your intimate conversation.

However, that sentence coming out of your mouth was very sobering. “Wait! That’s not what I meant!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as you brought your own hands up to hide your face.

“What did you mean?” He laughed, causing you to hide more behind your hands. Although you had thought some of those things about his hands, that’s not what you were trying to say!

“You just move very intentionally, very precise. That’s all” you sunk into your chair. Azriel had never seen your cheeks this pink. Even as he buttoned your dress up on your first mission. He remembered the beautiful flush that decorated your cheeks as he looked at your reflection that night, but it didn’t compared to the shade coloring you tonight. He decided then that you looked very good in pink. And he wanted to see it more often.

[feral-aether]

Here's the writing :3

It got kinda long, but there's more I'm working on because I actually love the characters I've been developing lol

Hope y'all enjoy!

Taylor grunted, leaning hard against the cold concrete wall outside the warehouse he had just been in. He held his stomach, feeling painful bruises that were already forming in addition to what might be a broken rib or two. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he wasn’t about to go get it checked out right that minute. He still needed to escape the scene before the heroes found him. If he was lucky, they were still preoccupied with navigating the maze of that warehouse.

Taking a deep, sharp breath in, Taylor stood up as straight as he dared and started moving. To his luck, the yard of the warehouse was filled with truck trailers and the moon was peaking through the clouds, giving him enough light to navigate through the yard to the gated exit. He jogged, not having the energy to run but not wanting to walk, and felt his wings bounce with his gait. No feathers were missing, nor were there any open wounds on his wings, but there were definitely bruises forming too. As he turned a corner, he miscalculated how close the shipping trailer was and rammed his shoulder into it.

He hissed, alternating from holding his wing in close to clamp down the pins of pain and holding it mostly open to relieve the tension in his muscles. Both worked well enough. Before the pain went down very much, Taylor pulled his wing back in and kept moving. He needed to keep moving, otherwise the heroes would find him. He almost made it to the gate when the familiar, heart clenching sound of wings in the air became clear. Wings in the air and feet on the ground. Each one accompanied by hushed voices talking to one another over comms.

They were searching for him.

He needed to get out of here. Glancing up at the night sky, he tried spotting the flighted hero. He tried picking out the figure that blotted out the stars, trailed by a green glow, but found nothing. Sparrow wasn’t above him. It was a slight relief as much as it sparked fear in him. Taylor pulled his wings closer anxiously. Listening intently to the voices as they moved, he built a semi-decent map in his head of where they were. He tracked how loud and quiet they were, which direction they moved, where the wingbeats were. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, just their voices. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying, but he could guess.

Quietly taking a breath, Taylor determined where the closest of the heroes was—Surtr, the hot-headed sword wielder of the team—and decided he could start moving again. He just needed to be careful. One wrong move, one sound too loud and they would find him. He couldn’t have that. Listening for Surtr, he heard the hot head’s voice slowly fading away from the gate, leaving him an opening.

Shuffling his wings, Taylor started towards the gate again. He moved slowly, silently, keeping to the shadows where he could best stay out of sight. He hoped Ceri was still in the building, knowing she had the best night vision of all the heroes and the capability to tag team him with Sparrow and do some real damage. Those two working together were worse than facing off against Surtr on his own. Sneaking between the trailers, Taylor listened for the heroes. He could hear them getting fainter and fainter. It made him feel bolder. He felt just a little bit safer, and wasn’t paying as close attention to those wingbeats as he should have.

Too focused on getting to the gate, Taylor missed the wingbeats getting louder. He missed the chatter on the comms increasing. Too focused on his escape, he didn’t catch the footsteps getting closer; only hearing his own breath, heartbeat, feathers, and footsteps as he broke into a run. Finally in the open lot in front of the gate, Taylor spread his wings to take off, but caught sight of Sparrow swooping in with that trail of ghostly aqua-green. He only had time to shout before Sparrow connected with him with a harsh kick and a yell he didn’t process.

Taylor hit the ground hard, feeling dazed and winded and pain shooting through his body. Part of him told him he was lucky he wasn’t twitching from the hit. Another part of him was cursing Sparrow for it. Groaning, Taylor tried rolling onto his side, but found himself pinned under Sparrow on his stomach; wings pinned down harshly. One was splayed out and the other held against his back with an uncaring arm. His heart jumped with the spike of panic it brought, and his breath hitched.

Don’t let them know you’re scared. Don’t let them know you’re scared. Don’t let them know-

“That’s deserved.” Sparrow hissed at him, pressing harder against his back.

“Hey-” Taylor rasped, trying to get air back in his lungs. “You’re-” He coughed, cutting himself off. His throat felt too dry. “That hurts.”

It was all Taylor could do to keep from squirming, and even that didn’t work very well. His splayed wing still twitched. It still tried lifting up as though he was going to fly even though he was on the ground. Sparrow didn’t miss this. Shifting their weight, keeping a hand on Taylor’s pinned wing, they reached over and pulled at the arm of his wing to messily contain it as well. To Sparrow’s credit, it was a better job than any of the others had ever done, but it still wasn’t comfortable. It was harsh and painful, Sparrow managing to find the exact spot where bruises were forming on the wing’s arm and gripping it tight.

Taylor hissed in a breath, holding still as pain rippled through his body. All the pain was centred around his torso tonight, apparently. Taylor bitterly thought about explaining that to his dad later. No doubt he would insist on bringing Taylor to his dad’s lair to check for underlying internal issues, but that was something to deal with later. His dad would understand, but would still worry over him. Just as long as he made it home mostly safe and alive.

Slowly, Taylor exhaled the breath and focused on minimizing aggravating his injuries. Sparrow kept him pinned while talking on their comms, most likely giving the rest of the hero team their exact location. He knew Surtr would arrive first. The hothead had been the next closest, and wouldn’t be far off. The thought of being subject to Surtr’s harsh comments made him uneasy, and so he started squirming under Sparrow’s grip. It wasn’t doing much, but it was something.

Sparrow swiftly noticed and pressed down harder, snapping at him in a thick backwater accent. “Hey! Quit that!”

Just as Sparrow started in on a tangent, the sound of rushed heavy footsteps became louder. Taylor knew who those belonged to and it only made the fear worse. He struggled more, flaring his wings as much as he could given Sparrow’s hold. Sparrow started shouting. The footsteps got louder, more rushed, and another voice joined the shouting. It only fed his fear.

Managing to break Sparrow’s hold, Taylor shoved the other avian off his back with a harsh flex of his wings and bolted up. He swayed on his feet, but pushed that aside in favour of his current need. Surtr surged forward, drawing his sword and looking angry under the moonlight; a flaming glow growing with his action. Sparrow recovered quickly off to the side, righting themself and bouncing back to their feet, their own wings flared now. Taylor backed up just as quickly. His head whipped around, watching his surroundings for the other heroes that would certainly be appearing soon enough. He needed to escape before then. He needed to.

Bolting to the side, Taylor got out of Surtr’s direct line of fire. He dashed towards the chainlink fence, hoping to get enough lift to take to the air, even just for a few wingbeats. Leaping over the fence, Taylor managed more height than he thought before a fireball soared right past his wing. He veered to the side on instinct, missing the brunt of the fireball but still left with several smoking feathers. The smell was awful, but he forced himself to ignore it. He needed to escape. He needed to get away. He was already in the air now, he had a chance. If he could get far enough, he could bolt into the clouds and use them as cover. But that was a major if.

He was still flying with bruises and maybe-broken ribs. He was running on fear and adrenaline and instinct. None of those were great for escape plans, but maybe if he could get enough speed. Maybe if he could get enough distance between him and the heroes. Pumping his wings hard, Taylor knew he had to at least try. Dad always told him to at least try.

Sharp wingbeats filled his hearing. Ones that clearly weren’t his. He thought he heard a screech too, but he didn’t want to find out if that was right. Bolting up towards the clouds, Taylor only spared half a glance back at his tail. Angry and glowing with that blue-green trail, Sparrow worked hard to catch up to him. A dark trail of blood trickled down from a patch on the hero’s face, only further discoloured by the sharp glow in their eyes that matched the trail coming off their wings. It did nothing to ease Taylor’s racing anxiety. If anything, it made it worse.

Taylor felt like prey with Sparrow so intently chasing after him. He almost made it up to the clouds when he felt lightheaded. Something felt like it was pressing against his chest, shorting him on his breath and slowing his mind. His wings missed a beat. Then two. Then five and he felt his momentum turn against him. Before Taylor could figure out something to fix the problem, he was plummeting down to earth.

Adrenaline raged through him. His heartbeat screamed in his ear, doubled by frantic thoughts that were just as loud. He tried focusing. He tried moving his wings, tried reversing gravity’s cruel pull, but couldn’t get a single muscle to move. He could see the ground getting closer. He could see Surtr running towards him, and knew Sparrow was right behind Taylor from the highpitched whistle following him that he knew wasn’t his own. His wings weren’t in the correct position for it. Sparrow’s probably were.

Dreading the crash, Taylor wondered what would hurt worse: hitting the metal trailers or the ground. Both, he knew, would be awful, but the metal was far more likely to sheer off feathers and flesh in a bloody mess. Hitting the soil was just as likely to shatter his bones from the impact alone. He didn’t want to think of the potential nerve damage. He didn’t want to think of how the crash from his height was more likely to kill him. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to see it. Hear it. Feel it.

Closing his eyes, Taylor couldn’t watch anymore. He stopped fighting himself and waited for the impact. He waited for the pain to come, to get worse, to knock him out. He waited for it all.

What came was distant—muffled?—shouting. He felt himself hit something, slowing him down for a second before whatever he hit snapped and gave way, letting his body continue until it finally stopped somewhere cold. He still couldn’t move. He could breathe now, but it hurt and came in shallow rasps. Voices and sounds surrounded him, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He knew it was the heroes. He knew he couldn’t escape. Not like this.

Consciousness felt just as shallow as his breathing. The longer he laid there, the stronger the pull to unconsciousness was. He couldn’t fight it. He knew, logically, he should stay awake, if only to make it easier for paramedics to keep an eye on his condition. But the heroes weren’t paramedics. He knew that shouldn’t matter, but only slipped further down. His thoughts became hazy. The voices muddled into incomprehensible noise. Taylor felt the cold seeping in, and slipped further away.

With his head dropping, Taylor felt himself be pulled under as everything vanished in dark silence.

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

Taylor slowly woke up. At first, it was just his body awake, his mind slow behind, but the moment he could register it, everything filtered in all at once. All his emotions, all his aches, all his pains, all his thoughts. He bolted upwards, eyes shooting open only to be blinded by the sudden light he was met with. Taylor groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he curled up. The movement made him regret waking up. A breath hitched in his throat.

Reopening his eyes a crack, he could see heavy chains looped around his ankle, thick cuffs keeping his hands together, and some sort of mask just at the edge of his vision. He could feel the mask more than he saw it, and it certainly wasn’t a medical mask for oxygen. It felt stifling and did not help his lungs in the slightest and was overly tight. Shifting where he sat, he unconsciously went to curl his wings around himself, but they didn’t move. Taylor froze. He went to move his wings again, but felt thick restraints keeping them pinned to his back. Panic spiked in his chest.

No, no, no.

Taylor twisted around, lifting his hands to scratch at the bonds on his wings. Making his fear worse, he found he couldn’t. His nails felt dull and wrong. They weren’t leaving the thin lines he knew they should, and that made him feel awful. Pulling his hands back, Taylor looked down to find his nails had been painted a glittery violet. If it weren’t for his conditions, he would have maybe liked the shade, but right now he hated it. He hated what it meant. Worse, he couldn’t pick at it either.

No, no no no no.

Taylor scolded himself for feeling so scared all while using it to analyze his surroundings.

Taylor’s breathing became ragged. He felt the fear and panic rising, and knew he was probably falling into a panic attack. He simultaneously felt awful and angry at himself. He shouldn’t be upset with himself because of how many things were out of his control, but the internal self-hatred remained. He’s been in situations like this before. He’s been in worse situations than this than before. He shouldn’t be freaking out so much, but everything was just too much all at once.

Most likely, considering the last traces of his memory, he was in the hero's base. The room itself was smaller, sparsely decorated, but decent. It had a working light and a window, and he was on what looked like a bed, although it wasn’t very comfortable. The walls had a faint flowering pattern painted into them, and the paint itself wasn’t awful, although there were better options than boring beige. Taylor shifted again. He went to sit on the edge of the bed but found his ankle couldn’t go further than the edge of the mattress.

The click of the door opening had Taylor snapping his head up. He didn’t care who was coming through that door, he knew all the heroes that let him be put in such a state were to blame. Every single one of them. As the door opened, Taylor hissed and his feathers roused with all his emotions. It didn’t deter them however, and just a moment later he saw the tall figure coming in with a familiar face. Dark messy hair, blue-green eyes, warm skin, and a smile that melted all his anger.

His mind spiraled again. His breathing picked up and his heart rate spiked. Taylor had gotten himself away from the panic attack, he couldn’t fall right back in. He couldn’t fall back in. No no no, he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t-

“Zack-” Taylor choked out, feeling tears prick at his eyes as his shoulders dropped down.

“Hey…” Zack responded softly. He didn’t close the door behind him. It stayed open, and that swirled uneasiness with his pure vulnerability. He felt like he suddenly had to modulate how much he let Zack see, but at the same time, Zack had already seen it all. He already knew how Taylor was feeling. He already knew, and that alone swirled emotions in Taylor he couldn’t keep track of anymore, but he knew they were conflicting.

One of the biggest was betrayal.

“Why- Why?” It was the first thing to come to Taylor’s mind. Why had they done this? Why all the restraints? Why the isolation? Why? Looking in those aqua eyes only made it all hurt worse. Zack looked guilty, or maybe sympathetic, like he didn’t like what the others had done but wasn’t going to undo their work. It was almost like he was scared of what Taylor might do.

Anger and pain whirled together in Taylor’s head and he asked again: “Why?”

Zack didn’t answer him right away. He stayed by the door, only barely a few steps in the room. The fact Zack wouldn’t move closer fed Taylor’s pain. “I…” Those bright, usually so kind eyes looked away. He wouldn’t look at him.

“Why?!” Taylor screamed, regretting it with how it hurt his throat, but he wanted answers. He needed answers. “Why won’t you look at me? Why won’t you answer me?!”

“Tay-” Zack’s eyes shot up, going to call him by name, but cutting himself off. The heroes didn’t know. They didn’t know, and Zack didn’t want them to know. They couldn’t, and that made Taylor feel worse. It spoke volumes about Zack’s trust in the heroes, but Taylor knew he wouldn’t leave them. “Kalakuta.” Zack’s voice was firm, losing the softness it had just seconds before.

Taylor stopped. He looked at Zack, but those bright eyes were… hard. They had scraps of warmth, but Zack just looked cold. Like he was trying not to care, but so deeply did but couldn’t let it slip. Something about that made Taylor’s heart twist painfully.

“Keep your voice down. You’re here under our determination that you’re too dangerous to be loose in the world.” Zack’s voice wavered a little as he spoke. What he was saying was clearly practiced, but that didn’t make it any better. “We are keeping you here until you either agree to stop your villainy, or agree to be… locked away in prison.”

Taylor could see the pain in Zack’s eyes. He could hear it in his voice. None of that made this situation any better. The wavers in Zack’s voice let Taylor know he cared—and deeply—but was trying not to let that on. For both their sakes.

Silence hung thick in the air. If anyone else walked in, they might think that Taylor was trying to get inside Zack’s head, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. If anything, it felt like it was the other way ‘round. Maybe the heroes did this on purpose. Maybe they sent Zack to twist the knife, making the puppy do the dirty work instead of any of them. Maybe they knew about Taylor and Zack and were using Zack against him. Considering how young a few of the heroes were, he wouldn’t put it past them.

Whatever the reason, Taylor knew he hated the heroes even more now.

Taylor looked away from Zack, feathers rising and falling as he shifted on the uncomfortable bed. There wasn’t so much as a blanket for him. Although there was a pillow, it was hard as a rock. Taylor went to curl up on himself but the chains and bonds prevented it, so he stayed in the awkward sitting position he had bolted up to. Zack might care, but the other heroes didn’t. That was clear enough. Not a single care for decent comfort. Not one for letting him change positions. Not one for binding his wings a little looser so they didn’t ache with cramps he could do nothing about.

“Leave me alone.” Taylor said quietly. He heard Zack take a step forward, but refused to look up.

“Tay…” Zack tried, his voice soft again. Taylor heard him take another step forward, then another before he could see Zack’s form standing beside the bed. A hand ghosted over his shoulder, but Taylor moved away from it by rolling his shoulders back. He didn’t want to be touched. As much as he wanted a hug, he wanted it from his dad, not Zack.

“Go away.”

He heard Zack sigh. A moment of silence followed. Then: “I’m sorry.” It was a whisper, meant only for him to hear. Zack dug for something in his pocket before holding out Taylor’s phone. The screen was dark, but intact, and Taylor hoped that there wasn’t any other damage to it.

“I thought that you’d want to let your dad know what happened.” Zack’s voice was a hair louder now. It was more comforting. “I’m not supposed to have this, and you certainly aren’t, but it’s yours. And you deserve to have some little comforts.”

“Even though they don’t believe that.” Taylor whispered back. He hesitated in reaching for his phone, but took it regardless. He still didn’t look back up at Zack, but he knew the look he had in those eyes. The look of a hurt puppy trying to make its owner happy. Eyes that weren’t quite pleading, but damn near close to it.

“They don’t.” Zack sighed, tucking his hands in his pants pockets. “But I do.”

Silence hung again, but it wasn’t as tense this time. It was a little nicer, and Taylor’s emotions were settling down enough that he could feel a little calm. He had a way to keep himself calm. A way to distract from the discomfort of all the bonds. A way to possibly have an escape plan. It might not be his own, but he didn’t doubt that his dad was already searching for him. He just needed a little nudge to find him, and Taylor had a feeling Zack might have a bigger part in that than he would admit.

“I need to go.” Zack said softly, and he turned to walk towards the still open door.

Before Zack left, Taylor whispered “Wait,” and finally looked up again to meet Zack’s eyes. He had turned back around to face Taylor, but stayed in the doorway ready to leave. “Thank you.”

Zack smiled gently. “You’re welcome.” He whispered back, then turned and finally left the room, closing the door with a slightly forced click. Taylor knew that was more for the heroes than himself. It was a way to keep themselves still a secret. It was a way to keep themselves still safe.

Looking back down at his phone, Taylor smiled softly. He knew his dad was coming for him. He just needed a little push to find the right place. Taylor had no clue where he was, but turning on the location on his phone would solve that problem for his dad. So would a quick text to let his dad know he was mostly okay. Yes, he was hurt, but he was alive, and that would help keep his dad calmer than he likely had been.

Taylor wouldn’t be here long.

Thinking about a villain whumpee who got captured by the protagonists who are so wary of them they just completely overdo it with the restraints.

I'm talking muzzle, heavy chains, cuffs, leather straps.... But the villain is just as scared as they are. Maybe they're even injured and not much of a threat in the first place?

Maybe one of the heroes notices the villains fear but isn't allowed to loosen the restraints and so they comfort them instead?

[ginnysgraffiti]

YOOOOO!! i’ve been thinking about this for days now and i think it would be so much fun to create like a ‘vacation with patrick bateman’ headcanons/fanfics series!!

what do y’all think?? ofc requests would always be open for the series to give new ideas ^^

PATRICK BATEMAN x yn.

patrick bateman on vacation with you head-canons — maldives edition :

settings.

- he doesn’t say “vacation.” he says getaway, like you’re escaping something together.

spoiler: you’re not. only he is.

- the resort is impossible to pronounce and even harder to book. timothy tried to get an answer out of patrick for a week before you two departed, but patrick would just shut him up with a typical insult and change subject. private overwater villa, infinity pool, glass-bottom bathtub, concierge so discreet you wonder if they were hand-picked by his lawyer.

- he doesn’t ask if you want to go. he tells you your flight is booked and that he’s already notified your office.

“you’ve been tense lately. we need this. pack white.”

arrival.

- you land to a staff of five greeting you by name. he doesn’t smile, but nods in approval.

- you step into the villa and the temperature is already adjusted to his preference. chilled wine poured. the air smells like sandalwood and money. you wonder how long was the list of instructions patrick gave to the staff or worse, how he managed to get them to do all of those things.

- he takes a picture of you standing on the deck. doesn’t say why. doesn’t show it to you.

- leaves his sunglasses on indoors. for the “aesthetic.” actually wants the entire village to look at him at any time.

daily routine.

- wakes up at 6:03 a.m. on the dot. drinks lemon water and does 1,000 sit-ups facing the sunrise while you’re still asleep.

- you wake to the sound of classical music playing through hidden speakers and the scent of bergamot.

- he brings you coffee on a silver tray. says “it’s important to maintain routine, even here.”

- critiques the villa’s espresso machine, calls the designer “a fraud in chrome.”

- reads the financial times shirtless on the deck. looks like a sculpture. corrects your pronunciation of “bali.”

- insists on matching swimsuits. white, minimal, expensive. if you protest, he says “it’s for the aesthetic.” it’s not. it’s about control.

gym. always.

- the moment you arrive, he asks the concierge where the gym is.

not if there’s a gym. where. it’s not optional.

- every morning after his lemon water and skincare, he goes.

doesn’t tell you. just leaves a folded note on the nightstand:

“training. 47 mins. back soon.”

- the gym is 200 meters away. he times the walk. wears designer sneakers like they’re sacred.

- if they don’t have the right machine, he files a complaint. to corporate.

- if someone else is in the gym, he stares at them until they leave. he calls this “maintaining psychological real estate.”

beach + water.

- walks you down to the beach with his hand on the small of your back like you’re his possession.

- corrects your posture. adjusts your sunglasses for you. takes pictures of you “for memory,” then deletes any where you blink.

- applies your sunscreen himself. slowly. clinically. nothing sensual — like he’s preserving his favorite object.

- when you swim, he stays close. not because he’s worried. because he doesn’t like when you’re out of reach.

- sometimes watches you from the shore, arms crossed, sunglasses still on. you can’t tell if he’s admiring you, waiting for a shark to attack you or evaluating your symmetry.

you propose going on a boat day.

- he blinks once. sips his smoothie. says nothing for six full seconds.

then: “fine. but not one of those mass-market death traps. it has to be something clean. pre-war teak. low engine noise.”

- you’re charmed. he’s not. he books a yacht bigger than the resort. you board barefoot. he boards in loafers and linen.

- refuses to let anyone else pilot it. tells the captain he’s “just a body for insurance purposes.”

- makes you wear a life vest. you refuse. he mutters about “reckless beauty” and sulks the first 30 minutes.

- finally, he softens. you stretch out on the sun-warmed deck, and he lies beside you, too close, one hand on your thigh like an anchor.

- when you laugh, he stares. then a small, almost invisible smile appears.

“you look like an ad campaign. keep doing that.”

he hopes you would keep doing that.

jealousy. silent. cold. calculated.

- if a resort staff member flirts with you, he doesn’t react. not then.

hours later, that staff member is reassigned. then gone. no explanation.

- when you ask if he had something to do with it, he looks at you and says,

“i just think people should know their place.”

meals.

- breakfast is served on floating trays in the pool. you’re not hungry. he still watches you eat.

- corrects your table manners. reminds you not to slouch.

- calls the resort chef “adequate.” sends back the truffle risotto twice.

- lets you pick dessert, but orders something different. compares the two. declares his was better.

“your taste is improving, though. slowly.”

shower “incidents.”

- insists you both rinse off after the beach. not optional.

- follows you into the outdoor shower.

doesn’t ask. doesn’t wait.

- he’s behind you, hands already moving to your waist before the water’s even warm.

mouth on your shoulder, voice low: “you don’t know what you do to me” while he tries to press his body against your back.

- tries to make love right there. pressed against the tile. slips once, curses, recovers.

- doesn’t finish. doesn’t care. “that was for you. i already won.”

- later, claims you moaned “too loudly.” suggests next time you “tone it down.”

he liked it. he’s just punishing you for being momentarily in control.

intimacy.

- touches you like you’re silk. never rushed. never clumsy.

- kisses your neck while fixing your hair, like you’re a painting that needs adjusting.

- makes love to you slowly, methodically, like he’s learning your body just to own it better.

- whispers “you belong to me” against your skin. not romantic. declarative.

falling asleep during sex.

- it happened once. late evening. white wine. you on top.

he closed his eyes, lips parted — and just…drifted.

- you stopped. confused. watched him sleep like a marble statue.

jaw relaxed, hand still on your hip.

- he wakes ten minutes later, annoyed.

“i wasn’t asleep. i was meditating through pleasure.”

- refuses to discuss it. but he overcompensates the next night. candles. control. makes you beg.

- at the end, he stares at the ceiling and says:

“see? i don’t malfunction.”

evenings.

- insists on dressing for dinner, even in the villa. pressed linen shirt. watch that costs more than a car.

- pours you wine like he’s rehearsed it. says “let’s pretend we’re normal.”

- talks about mergers, blood types, and the moral failure of synthetic fabrics. you pretend to follow. he pretends to believe you.

- if you laugh at something he says, he softens — briefly. you see something almost boyish flicker behind his expression.

control. always.

- you once stepped outside barefoot. he bought you new sandals in every color.

- you expressed liking one of the spa oils. five bottles arrived the next morning with a handwritten card: “you deserve refinement.”

- your phone doesn’t work half the time. “must be the island connection,” he says, holding his own perfectly-working phone.

activities he “lets” you do.

- snorkeling, but only after he’s inspected the equipment and interrogated the instructor about the risk of stingray injuries.

- paddleboarding. he doesn’t do it. watches from shore, arms crossed, shirt unbuttoned halfway. sunglasses on. judging your balance.

- spa. he books a couple massage but critiques the masseuse’s pressure like it’s a war crime. he actually enjoyed it.

- sunset yoga. joins once. outperforms the instructor. complains of “lack of core tension in modern fitness.”

- night swimming. you beg. he follows. watches you float. only gets in once you look cold.

pulls you in. kisses you underwater. then pulls away first. control. always.

he’s not resting.

- watches you when you sleep. not because he’s romantic. because you’re still.

- keeps a mental log of your habits. files them in his head like a collector.

- stares out at the ocean late at night, glass in hand, whispering the names of every man who ever made you cry. just once. like a list he intends to shorten.

when he lets go (barely).

- you catch him laughing once. like, actually laughing. you spilled mango gelato on his foot.

he looks down. pauses. then exhales this real, soft, involuntary laugh.

- you say, “you should do that more often.”

he replies, deadpan: “i prefer scarcity. it raises the value.”

one night, you suggest dancing.

- no music. no mood. you just say: “dance with me?” he stares. long. says nothing. then gets up.

- holds you too tightly. like you’ll vanish. doesn’t speak. lets you guide.

- his eyes don’t leave yours. even when you close yours, you can feel him watching.

departure.

- packs your bag for you. everything folded to military precision.

- you find a photo in your luggage later — you, smiling in the sun, unaware.

he didn’t give it to you. he placed it. a reminder.

on the flight, when awkward silence occupied the first class, he says: “you make me forget what i am.”

you don’t ask what he means, but you know the answer. you smile softly, a smile he wouldn’t reciprocate, and hold his hand.

[c0s-lettuce]

three words, eight letters

peter parker x reader

synopsis: who said dating your coworker isn't fun? especially when he's also secretly spider-man and gives you the opportunity to interview him.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/tags: photographer!peter parker x journalist!reader, gender not mentioned, coworkers at the daily bugle, based on a scene from superman but not required knowledge to read this fic

a/n: i watched superman and rewatched tasm recently, so this is a product of the two movies, with a splash of daredevil: born again hehe. stay punkrock everyone <3

It's been a long day at the Daily Bugle. You spent a good chunk of it stressed out and getting told off by your boss for being too biased in your latest article, before he decided to just approve the publication regardless.

It's no secret that J. Jonah Jameson despises Spider-Man. But much to his chagrin, his overly hateful and objectively opinionated reports about the so-called superhero never do as well as the articles you write. Otherwise, you're sure you would've been fired a long time ago.

But perhaps you are biased, due to the little-known fact that you're dating Peter Parker, who just so happens to be the secret identity of the infamous Spider-Man.

As Peter Parker, he's a photographer at the Bugle and a frequent victim of Jameson's verbal abuse. As Spider-Man, he's the kind of person you write about in your articles.

Because of that, he saves the photos he takes of himself as Spider-Man just for you. And so, your names would often be paired together. A totally unbiased article by you, accompanied by a suspiciously high-quality photo by Peter Parker.

Which brings you back to the stressed-out part. Peter has been becoming less and less subtle, and you're worried it's a matter of time before someone connects the dots, both about your relationship and his identity. Not to mention the trouble he's been getting into recently.

But you let the topic rest as you focus on getting home, desperate for some food and rest. You ride the dingy elevator up to your floor and trudge down the hallway to your apartment, unlocking the door and making your way inside.

You drop off your belongings at the entrance and hang up your coat. But you freeze when you hear clanging sounds coming from the kitchen. Reaching down, your hand finds the baseball bat you keep by the front door.

You hold it up and carefully step into your apartment. But as you peek into the kitchen, your eyes land on a familiar dark-haired individual. He stands in front of the stove, his back facing you.

You let out a huff, lowering your bat. "What are you doing here?"

Peter turns, greeting you with a smile. "It's been three months since our first date," he says, gesturing to the stovetop. "So to celebrate, I'm making you spaghetti and meatballs."

You lean the bat against the door frame and step into the kitchen. "Spaghetti and meatballs? Seriously?"

"What's wrong with spaghetti and meatballs?" he asks.

"Nothing," you answer. "Just wondering why you're not going for something more... sophisticated."

Peter grins wider, stepping away from the stove to approach you. "Oh, is my cooking not good enough for you?"

Before you can answer, his lips are on yours, his hands reaching for your waist. Any words you have left to say vanish as Peter kisses you deeply. You reciprocate immediately, cradling his head with your hands and kissing him back.

He lifts you up effortlessly, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you. Without breaking the kiss, he gently places you atop the counter and stands in the space between your legs.

His arms wrap around your waist, and he pulls your body closer. He grinds against you, the soft hum that escapes your mouth only encouraging him further.

He keeps up his ministrations, his hands touching you in all the right places, his body moving against yours in all the right ways. But then, the moment is interrupted as he begins to laugh softly.

"What?" you ask, smiling in response.

"That was very funny, what you did today at work," he says between kisses. "Giving me a hard time for my photos. Eddie was eating it up."

You roll your eyes as he trails his lips down your neck. "I wasn't trying to be funny, Peter. If you keep taking photos of yourself, eventually, people are going to figure out you're Spider-Man."

He pulls back, meeting your gaze. "Yeah, but I wear a mask."

You sigh, brushing the hair away from his face. "It won't protect you forever. And it doesn't help that you only ever let me use your photos."

Undeterred, he smiles and leans back in, continuing to pepper soft kisses along your neck. "So, what? You gonna stop writing articles about me?"

"I mean, yeah," you answer. "It's probably for the best."

He hums against your skin, his voice soft. "What if I let you interview me?"

You pause, pulling back to look at him. "You're serious? You'd let me interview you as Spider-Man?"

"Yeah, sure," he shrugs.

"How about now?" you ask.

Peter hesitates for a moment. He had hoped to be doing... other things with you tonight. But you look so excited about the prospect of this interview. And he's always found it difficult to say no to you.

So, he agrees and follows you into the living room. He watches from the armchair as you retrieve your voice recorder and sit across from him on the couch. You switch the recorder on, placing it on the coffee table.

"Ready?" you ask.

"Yeah, bring it on," Peter replies.

You take a deep breath and begin. "Spider-Man. You've been under a lot of fire recently for your involvement in-"

"I wouldn't say it's a lot of fire-" he interrupts.

"It's a lot," you assert. "Today, the mayor, Wilson Fisk, made a public statement about your efforts in interrupting his plans for progress."

Peter makes a face, a smirk and a subtle roll of the eyes.

So you ask, "Is that funny?"

"It's not funny," he answers. "It's just... come on. His plans for progress? I'm the only one who's actually trying to help people."

"How so?"

"Fisk is trying to tear down old apartment buildings, buildings that people still live in, by the way. So, I put a stop to it."

"By doing what?"

"By preventing the demolition from happening. Webbing up the crew, making the equipment and machinery unusable, stuff like that."

You raise your eyebrows. "You webbed up the crew?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "Just so they couldn't move. No one was hurt."

"Right," you continue. "And have you interacted with the mayor at all during this?"

"No," Peter admits. "He barely speaks to anyone outside the press."

"What about the deputy mayor for housing?"

"Also no."

"The HPD department?"

"No."

"The director of city planning? Or any official personnel before you took matters into your own hands?"

Peter groans, standing up as he begins to pace. "No, okay? People were going to lose their homes, that's why I acted. Besides, those guys all technically work for the mayor anyway."

You watch him from the couch. "Okay. So essentially, you intervened in a government-sanctioned redevelopment project-"

"No, no. Hold on-" Peter tries to speak.

But you continue. "-a project that is taxpayer-funded, by the way-"

"-that's not the point-"

"-for buildings that are already toeing the line when it comes to complying with regulations? To what, help people?"

Peter sighs. "Yes. They can't just kick people out of their homes. I mean, where are they supposed to go while the buildings are under construction?

"The mayor has announced plans for temporary housing," you say.

"Temporary," he scoffs. "Yeah, right. As if he actually cares."

"This is on the record, Spider-Man," you warn him.

"No, no," he shakes his head. "Now you're just being dishonest."

You furrow your brow. "How am I being dishonest?"

Peter is about to respond, but stops. He picks up the recorder, struggling slightly to pause the recording.

When he's successful, he turns back to you, his voice lower now. "You're being dishonest because you know as well as I do that Wilson Fisk is corrupt."

"I think that's almost certain, but I don't know that as a fact," you reply.

Peter lets out a huff. "He's literally a criminal."

"Yeah, I know, but that doesn't necessarily prove anything," you argue. "Look, can we continue?"

"Fine," he says, flopping back down in the armchair.

You also sit back on the couch, resuming the recording. "Alright, Spider-Man. I have to ask, why does this issue matter to you? Are you personally affected by the mayor's plans?"

"Well, not personally," he answers. "But that doesn't mean I don't care. The people who are affected, they're our neighbours, our friends. They could be the people who run your favourite bodega down the street or make the best sandwiches in the whole city. They matter. All of them."  

"And why do you think it's your responsibility to help?" you ask.

"Because I can, I should," he says. "Someone very close to me once said that with great power comes great responsibility."

You pose the question, "Who was it that told you that?"

But he shakes his head. "I can't say. You know I can't say."

You nod. "Okay."

"But that's all I've been trying to live by," he continues. "I'm just trying to do the right thing. You know, friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man and all that."

"Alright," you pause for a moment before resuming. "So, you strive to do good, but some people label you as a vigilante-"

Peter groans, standing up again. "Vigilante. Seriously? You know how much I hate being called that."

"This is on the record, Peter." You remind him. "I'm not trying to imply you are one. It's just what people have been saying."

He sighs deeply, clearly fed up. "I should go."

"What?" You stand up. "Come on, Peter. Don't do this."

He goes to pick up his bag and jacket. "I'm not doing anything."

"No?" you ask. "That's not you packing up and walking away?"

"I'm not..." he huffs. "I just have other stuff to do-"

"You always do this when you're faced with conflict. You get mad, you pout, and you pretend like nothing's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong. Look. I gave you a nice, long interview, okay? Plenty to write about in your next article."

"Yeah, how gracious of you." You mutter, picking up the voice recorder. "God, I knew this would never work."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"Nothing," you tell him, stopping the recording. "I just told you I wasn't good at relationships."

Peter doesn't respond straight away and just stares at you for a moment. But you refuse to look at him, keeping busy by fiddling with the recorder.

"Okay," is all he says, before he begins to walk away.

You only look up when you hear the front door close, and you immediately feel regretful. Seconds later, you approach the door and poke your head out into the hallway, hoping he might still be there. But he's already gone. So, you retreat into your apartment alone.

As you return to the kitchen, you notice the spaghetti sauce still simmering on the stove. Remembering how the night started only worsens your guilt. Peter had come to surprise you for dinner. Now you're not even sure how badly you messed things up.

You serve yourself some of the food, the nice taste providing a mild sense of comfort. But the rest of the night is quiet in your lonely apartment, and you do little to pass the time. Once you get into bed, your exhaustion catches up, and you manage to fall asleep quickly.

It's not until hours later that you're woken up by a noise. You hear your window sliding open, but you don't react. The sound has grown familiar to you in the past few months. Peter enters your room quietly, closing the window behind him. He strips down to just his shirt and boxers before approaching the bed.

He lifts up the covers and slides in behind you, immediately reaching out and holding you against his chest. He takes a deep breath, letting your presence soothe him. You lay a hand over his in response.

After a short while, he speaks up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left."

"I shouldn't have grilled you," you reply.

"You were just doing what you do best," he says. "It's my fault I couldn't handle it."

Another moment of silence passes before you speak. "The spaghetti and meatballs were delicious, by the way."

He lets out a quiet laugh. "I'm glad you liked it. It's my Aunt May's recipe."

"She clearly raised you well," you tell him.

Peter smiles, pulling you closer. "Can we try this again tomorrow? Dinner, I mean."

"I'd like that a lot," you respond.

"Great," he says. "I promise not to do anything stupid this time."

You let out a chuckle. "Yeah, me too."

Peter takes another deep breath as he holds you tighter. He nuzzles his face against your neck, placing a soft kiss on your skin. Your heart feels lighter now that you're back in his arms, and you're sure he feels the same.

But as he falls asleep, he mumbles a few words. It's muffled, and you can't quite make it out. But it sounded suspiciously like everyone's favourite three-word, eight-letter sentence.

You're not sure if he meant to say it out loud. But soon enough, you fall asleep too, with a smile on your face.

[kyoshithewriter]

Pomum (part twelve)

Wc: 5.3k

warnings: mature themes (18+)

A/n: Two more chapters tops or I might wrap it all up in one long one. It feels so meh, so I’m hoping I’m not disappointing those of you who care about this fic. Anyway, later again until the other chapter or chapters are ready lol✌🏾 (please ignore any typos).

The inside of the shop smells like tobacco and freshly mowed grass. Small tendrils of smoke slither and twist in his periphery from long, thin red sticks stuck into the walls. A patient’s chair sits below a shelf lined with jars of herbs along with some powdered substances.

“I take it you’re some kind of doctor, Mr. Zhàng?” Donavon asks with a frown.

“It’s Zhào, but you know that don’t you? That was your attempt of subtle disrespect just because you think you have the right to.”

With narrowed eyes, Donavon speaks; “You seem to think you know me.”

The man seated on the other side of the desk offers him a genuine smile. It’s unnerving.

“I know a great deal, Mr. Hernandez. It’s a running joke between me and my nephew. I’m old and I know things.” He winks at him playfully.

Raúl shifts uneasily just behind, but Zhào shoots a knowing look in his direction for just a second. It’s enough for him to communicate one thing: relax. When Raúl first noticed that Mr. Hernandez was running a sinking ship, he knew he couldn’t stay onboard. He’s too well known in their world to be running around aimlessly with a man losing all his respect and power. He has a family to protect. But Raúl is no fool; people like him don’t just get to walk away and leave it all behind. The kind of ghosts you make in organized crime are the kinds that haunt you forever. It was all going south; the families started secretly despising them after Donavon’s stunt on the Muñoz. It especially didn’t help when word started going around of trafficking and doing business with scums like Barka. Raúl thought their end was near until Mr. Hernandez somehow convinced Virgil to join him. It was meant to be simple business: Virgil supplies him with weaponry while he gets a cut of his profits and gets to run operations in his territories. Not only that, Virgil comes with an extra layer of authority and fear factor. It held them together for two years and even almost managed to get them an alliance with the most influential Italian family in the city. Almost. Like Mr. Zhào once said, no matter how strong the rest of the body is, if the head isn’t right then it’s all useless. A quiet kind of panic began to ripple through the men working under Mr. Hernandez, and Raúl was not immune. But one of his best traits is his observation skills. Despite the brewing chaos from whispers in the streets, Virgil remained calm. It made Raúl curious enough to start following him from the shadows. He noticed his communication with people back in his home town along with his frequent trips to Chinatown. He thought he was smart about it, but that’s when he came to really learn the kind of man Virgil actually is. Intentional. Calculating. Smart. On his fifth sneaking attempt at spying on Virgil, he walked right into his trap. Before Raúl could blink, he was surrounded by triad men with Virgil standing in the middle.

“It’s about time we had a chat, Raúl.”

And that’s when he led him right into this very building for the first time where he learned that for some strange reason, Virgil really respects him.

“I’ve been observing you for a while. You’re levelheaded, highly skilled with weapons and very intelligent. A shame that Mr. Hernandez doesn’t heed your advice. But to me? You’re a valuable asset, Raúl. A rare gem in our world. You know what Mr. Hernandez is and you know what will happen if he isn’t stopped. I don’t need to tell you about all the ways this would also affect your family, you’re a smart man. I have plans, Raúl. Do you want to be a part of these plans or is your loyalty too rigid? And in that case… you know what will have to happen.”

Despite his not so subtle threat, Raúl didn’t even feel pressured to make a decision. He realized in that moment that he admired man longer than he noticed. He was quick to switch sides, not because he’s disloyal, but because his hatred for the man currently sitting in front of him had festered into something irreversible. Not many others knew of his cruelty to women as well. The staff at his home were made up of younger women for a while and they all have their fair share of horror stories to tell. He can’t believe this is the man he chose to work with two decades ago.

“Alright you great, wise one. Where the fuck are my wife and daughter?”

Zhào reclines in his chair. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere they want to be.” He says smoothly, attitude dégagé.

“Somewhere they want to be? Do you think I’m stupid, old man?” He inquires coldly through gritted teeth.

He cocks his head to stare at him intently. “I don’t know, are you?”

Donavon shifts to brandish his pistol but time seems to slow as the man in front moves to bring a swift hand down against his wrist that immediately becomes disfigured. With a sharp yelp, Donavon drops the gun that the man catches smoothly before bringing the butt of it firmly against his nose. There are two muted whistles then both Joaquin and Enrique groan to his left. Donavon blinks through the blinding pain, cupping his nose delicately as it gushes crimson. He sees both Joaquin and Enrique kneeling with blood soaking through the material of their slacks while Raúl stands with both hands in the air in surrender while Zhào aims the pistol right between his eyes.

“Oops, got them in that artery in the leg. Messy.”

Donavon watches in horror as both men desperately clutch at their legs, sweat already beginning to accumulate on their foreheads.

“I say you have less than 10 minutes before they both bleed out. I suggest you get moving.” Zhào states with an air of nonchalance around him.

“You’re fucking de-”

Zhào cuts him off with a careless flap of his hand. “Blah, you’re not setting foot in Chinatown again, Mr. Hernandez. Get going.” Popping joints accompany the man as he stands.

“Is that a threat?”

Zhào looks down at him in a way that he’s becoming familiar with lately. A mix of pity and disgust; a look that suggests they all know something he doesn’t. It makes his stomach queasy with an impending sense of doom.

“No. That’s a promise.”

**************

Virgil’s leg bounces under his desk in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. After leaving the safe house this morning, he called his uncle to alert him of Mr. Hernandez heading in his territory. His uncle had brushed it off, advised him not to come and go to his office instead to feign normalcy. A confrontation with Donavon in Chinatown would lead to one thing and that would not only cause an avoidable war (some families would still feel the need to prove that their loyalty to the Hernandez meant something while others would try to take advantage and move for the empty metaphorical throne) but also bring police presence that would disrupt triad operations. But it has been almost four hours since he heard from the man. He doesn’t want to call him or Raúl and risk blowing their cover.

[Zhào. 1:07 pm]: I handled it. He might be a lackey or two down but not the one you like.

[Virgil. 1:08 pm]: It took you four hours?

[Zhào. 1:10 pm]: No. I started watching a movie and forgot. Did you know they made a movie about a bear on cocaine? Literally. Fucking hilarious.

Virgil pinches at the bridge of his nose even though amusement threatens to pull his lips in a smile.

[Zhào. 1:12 pm]: Also didn’t know you were planning a grand wedding. You love that little Hernandez girl a lot, don’t you?

Virgil’s brows furrow in confusion. He only proposed last night and even they hadn’t discussed any wedding plans yet.

[Virgil. 1:13 pm]: what do you mean?

[Zhào. 1:14 pm]: The wedding invitations that have been floating around the city for about an hour now. Pretty offended that the Chen’s received one but I haven’t. And only a week's notice?

[Virgil. 1:14 pm]: What?

[Zhào. 1:15 pm]: oh.

His chair clatters to the ground with the force as he leaps to his feet. Checking his phone for Sofía’s location, it shows that she’s still at the safe house but he still feels unsettled. Wang had responded to his message almost three hours ago reassuring him that they were fine and back at the house; now that’s not enough. He needs to hear her voice and find out who the fuck is apparently planning their wedding.

“Pick up the fucking phone, Wang.”

His employees scramble to clear the way as he moves through the building like a storm.

“Virgil.” The man’s voice is tentative. He immediately knows something is wrong.

“Why the fuck am I hearing that invitations to my wedding are being delivered all over the city?”

The man on the other end of the phone gulps heavily. “Virgil… you… she’s fucking stubborn. I told her this is a bad idea but she met with the new Muñoz heir who’s apparently her long lost best friend and they-”

“Wang, I’m on my way to the house; if you’re not there with Sofía before I get there I’m going to make you dig your own grave before I put you in it.”

******

“Fuck. Fuck!”

Sofía ignores the man in the driver’s seat as the car speeds up along the highway. He throws his phone carelessly in the cup holder between them, rubbing a hand harshly down his face.

“You promised to not let him kill me. I hope you know if you don't, no amount of priests or shamans will keep you safe from me.” Wang says steadily even though the tremors in his fingers betray his attempt at nonchalance.

“And yet Virgil would still find a way.” She comments offhandedly.

Wang chuckles; “Fucker would probably kill himself just to find me on the other side.” His eyes flicker toward the overhead mirror. “Sorry about the language, Mrs. Hernandez.”

But her mother is so lost in her own head, the woman doesn’t even acknowledge him. Sofía would be surprised if she even knew what was going on. Celeste has been like that since they arrived at the Perez residence. After her reunion with Amelia, both women went straight into planning. What her friend said made perfect sense— there’s no need for Virgil and her to inherit her father’s enemies. And Virgil just coming into the country to run it alone would certainly invite some rebellion, though stupid, but still possible. A lot of these families like to pretend that they’re more loyal than the others; they’d probably try rallying the families up in the name of ‘revenge for their chosen king’ when the real reason is they’d think it unfair for a foreigner with a new name to come in and start running everything. Especially those families who have established their names here for decades. Sofía in the picture shifts those perspectives, especially if her mother rallies behind her as well. It took them less than an hour to create a basic invite from a template online and sent some men to have them printed. When they returned with the invitations and envelopes, Sofía, Celeste and Amelia sat in the sitting room writing the names of families they intended to invite in pretty, thin cursive looped letters while Sofía brought her mother up to speed with everything. She spared no details. Her mother remained quiet but didn’t stop helping with their preparations. Both Perez and Muñoz men were then sent out to hand deliver the letters. Sofía didn’t linger long after everything was set in motion; besides, they needed to make a quick stop for groceries and she knew how Virgil would react when he found out. She knew she needed to be home before he decided to come looking for her.

“You saved Amelia’s number, correct?”

“This is your tenth time asking and for the tenth time yes. I did save her number.” Wang says with a hint of exasperation.

Just as the narrow road that leads to the house comes into sight, Wang curses out loud.

“Oh fuck. How the fuck is already right behind? That fucker must’ve been driving at 120 like the psycho he is.”

Sofía’s breath hitches at the sight of the familiar Porsche advancing on them in the rearview mirror. It leaves a flurry of dust in its wake as it speeds in their direction.

They hurry to exit the vehicle, but Wang lingers by the opened door handing her mother the bags he unloaded from the car. Virgil doesn’t even bother to park properly out front.

“Get in the house now, Wang.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed—”

“Just take your shoes off and leave them by the door. Come.”

Wang hurries to obey her command. Virgil’s door is slammed so hard she briefly wonders if it’ll fall off the hinges. The sun almost cast shadows on the right areas of his face to make him look even more menacing than he already is. Sofía steels her spine in the middle of the doorway— expression defiant.

“Sofía. Move.”

“So what? So you can kill one of your most trusted men for doing what he was told? You told him to fulfill any requests I had!”

Virgil lifts her off the ground and sets her to the side like she’s the least of his concern. She’s momentarily frozen in shock before her mother’s tiny scream breaks her from her stupor. Sofía immediately races over to fling her body between Wang and Virgil’s uncaring of the pistol he has pointed at the man.

“My orders were to keep her safe!” He yells at Wang who stands just behind. His breaths are audible even though he tries to remain calm.

“I am safe!”

“You drove her into enemy territory without even making me aware of your plans?! You’re clearly incompetent and therefore of no use to me.” Virgil’s eyes harden even further.

“I told him to take me there. I even threatened him!”

But though the frantic words leave her mouth, the Dutch man keeps his eyes locked firmly on Wang. Ignoring her presence completely.

“She asked to—”

“And I said you were allowed thirty minutes in town!”

Sofía doesn’t miss the way he emphasizes the ‘I.’ Clearly stating that his word carries more weight than hers. It makes her blood boil.

Sofía marches right in his personal space and before she can properly think her actions through, there’s a stinging in her right palm and bright red mark blooming on his cheek. Her mother’s scandalous gasp rings around the now quiet room.

“I’m right fucking here! Stop speaking about me like I’m not. Put the gun away. I need to talk to you.” She hisses bitterly. Wang’s eyes bulge comically from his head in her peripheral vision.

She can see him warring with himself as his expression flickers between disbelief and something a lot darker that makes her belly clench in response. Spinning on her heels, she almost struts down the hallway to his room. She can feel his gaze fixed on the curve of her ass in the dress as he follows closely behind. Sofía makes a mental note to go on a cleaning spree later seeing as they’re both wearing their shoes inside. The door closes behind him with a soft click while Sofía fights against the nerves that are threatening to creep in.

“Little rose.” He calls sternly.

With a deep inhale, she turns to face him, refusing to cower under his furious gaze.

“What the fuck did you ju-”

“What did you say to me last night, Virgil?”

He pauses in surprise at the tears that begin streaming down her cheeks.

“Sofía?”

“Last night, after I said yes to being your wife. What did you say, Virgil?!”

She can physically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“You told me I’m to be your queen, right?”

Understanding immediately crosses his features. “Yes, little rose.”

“Did you just say that to make me feel good? Or did you mean it?” Sofía wipes at her tears harshly.

“I meant it.”

“Don’t ever speak above me like that again! Do you know how dehumanizing that felt? Just ignoring me while addressing Wang about me as if I wasn’t there? You said it would be different with you.”

Virgil clenches his fists in distress. “I… I’m angry, Sofía. You have to get where I’m coming from. I’m angry but I can’t take my anger out on you so I… I didn’t mean for it to come off like that, little rose.”

“I understand that, but you suggested I should be by your side. That means I have to have a certain amount of authority and be able to make decisions too, Virgil.”

“No, Sofía. Don’t try that, you did something reckless and all without at least running it by me first.”

Sofía gives an exasperated sigh; “Run it by you just for you to say no? I requested an audience with less than five people in my company. I know about the codes the families live by.”

“With all the shit happening with your father you willingly drove yourself into enemy territory because of codes? Codes your own father has been breaking for years?” Virgil questions coldly.

“I didn’t go into enemy territory though; I went to see my best friend who is in fact the new Muñoz heir and not her brother like we assumed. Columbia has changed her, it’s true. But she’s still Amelia. Amelia who only wants to avenge her father and to earn their home back. Amelia who wants to be our ally and who helped me formulate a plan.”

“She attacked your home.”

“Yes. But her orders were to take us alive.”

Virgil scoffs; “And how can you trust her?”

“Because it’s just like you said; I was stupid enough to willingly walk in their territory without an ounce of protection and yet, here I am. Unscathed. Also, I think she’s terrified of you.” She eyes him skeptically. “Apparently, you’re very well… connected and um… fearsome.”

His expression smooths over into a blank canvas. “Does that scare you?”

“No. Only made me curious about why you’re holding back. You could’ve called in people from abroad and toppled my father’s empire in hours.”

Virgil scratches at his chin; “The same reason I’m assuming your friend wants everyone to know that I’m marrying you. Using war to erase a name respected in our world for decades would be too messy. It would bring fear without respect— just like what your father had these past few years. It would be years of families plotting and scheming against me plus bringing the attention of the law in. If people knew a Hernandez would be operating by my side they’d be more at ease even after I put your father down quietly.”

She can’t help but shiver at his choice of words. ‘Put him down,’ like her father is an animal and not human. She sucks in a shuddering breath before she speaks again.

“Yes. And extending invitations to families, especially those my father has scorned or neglected for years shows I’m not holding his grudges and extending an olive branch. I want to keep the alliance strong with those who still see themselves as such and I want to start afresh with the others.”

His expression shifts while he gently pulls the hairs on his chin. “Running off to the Muñoz without informing me or at least having proper protection was stupid. And you’ve now put me in a dangerous position. Are you forgetting I’m still supposed to be by your father’s side? If he suspects something is happening he’s going to lash out and that will only cause the very thing I was trying to avoid in the first place.”

Sofía bites her lower lip feeling a little stupid for not considering Virgil’s position in all this.

“But I suppose I can think of something and it’s a solid plan otherwise. When’s the date set?”

“In six days. We thought it best to move quickly before word gets to my father and he starts plotting. He’s scattered right now and we need to take advantage of that.”

“Fuck. It’ll get to him soon enough; why would you not come to me first, Sofía. I had a solid plan.”

“I’m sure you do, but since you won’t fucking tell me anything I did what I thought was best. I’m not going to apologize for trying to save my friend and for trying to protect the people I love because you’re doing the same thing you swore you wouldn’t. Remember what I said Virgil, I won’t tolerate this treatment from you too and I mean it.” She says coldly.

His eyes drift over to the anklet that’s sitting in the middle of the bed and she’s sure he’s remembering her threat to abandon him and all this mess if he starts mistreating her.

“I had planned to marry you soon, in secret; just me, you a judge, your mother, Wang and Raúl present. Then, I’d order an attack on your dad’s safe house and propose to hide him away in the Netherlands for a while. During that time, I’d have the news of our marriage spread throughout the city while staging some attacks against other families as if it was his orders. It would be enough to sever any fragile loyalty and your marriage to me would set the older heads who care about family names at ease. I’d then take care of your father and the men loyal to him easily. That was my plan.”

“Oh. That was a solid plan.” She whispers meekly.

“But you still wanted to hurt my friend, Virgil. I couldn’t allow that.”

The man sighs heavily. “You trust her, yes?”

Sofía nods eagerly.

“Good. Because this won’t go down peacefully, you both made sure of that. So she better be worth it.” Virgil immediately shoots Raúl a text to update him. The man might need to remove himself.

[Raúl. 2:23 pm]: I’ll stay close for a little while longer to let you know his next move. He hasn’t suspected me of anything yet. He’ll be frazzled and careless now that Enrique is dead. Remind me never to underestimate your uncle.

[Virgil. 2:24 pm]: Careless yes, and even more impulsive and dangerous. Be careful and let me know the minute the news gets to him.

“You should apologize to Wang, also, I’ve developed a soft spot for him. I want him to be my main bodyguard or chauffeur or whatever else you call it.”

He eyes her like she told him the earth is flat.

“I can arrange your latter request but I’m not apologizing.”

Sofía takes her time to stride in his direction. Her hands find his chest while she looks up at him sweetly.

“Please, Virg. For me? I feel bad because I put him in that position.”

He huffs frustratedly; “You slapped me. Where’s my apology?”

“You’ll get it… if you promise to be nice to Wang.”

Virgil cocks his brow, curiosity and anticipation making his blood sing. After a few contemplative seconds, he offers a firm nod.

“Good. You’ll probably have to give me some guidance but I’ve been wanting to try this for so long…” she trails off while slowly stooping until her face is directly in line with his crotch. His nostrils flare, hands clenching by his side as her timid fingers move to deftly unbuckle his belt. Sofía buries her face where his scent is most potent— his musk is rich and what she can only describe as very masculine.

“You’re going to be the death of me, little rose.”

He knows this is her clever little plan to be forgiven for that stunt she pulled earlier, but he doesn’t mind one bit.

“Show me how you like it.”

By the time Virgil and Sofía reemerge from his bedroom, all the tension has visibly left his body. He strides instead of marching like he did earlier, his shoulders are lax and his features calm. He pauses to glance at Wang who’s stood against the wall by the entryway of the kitchen.

“Sorry.” It’s grumbled from his mouth with a little petulance but it’s something. Wang blinks in wide eyed surprise before nodding in acknowledgment. The Asian man then shifts his gaze to Sofía with a knowing glint of amusement shimmering in his eyes.

Celeste eyes them both curiously from her place on the couch but doesn’t comment. Sofía is starting to worry about her mother’s loyalty. Her father has been all she has known for years— he’s her first love and the man who took her out of poverty. It wouldn’t surprise her if the woman believes she owes him.

Clearly her sore throat, Sofía speaks; “So… what are we going to do?” A charged kind of silence settles over them. One that suggests they’re all brought right back to their very dangerous reality.

Virgil rolls his neck before calmly saying; “We’re going to make the wedding a trap.”

**********

“Virgil has been making himself scarce. This is when I need him the most and he’s suddenly too busy to see me. I should’ve put a bullet in between that fucker’s eyes after his first time stepping out of line.” Donavan paces in the wrecked hotel room that he has been isolating himself in. It has been three days since his visit to Chinatown. Three days since that smug fucker Zhào killed Enrique and put Joaquin out of commission. He feels like a cornered rabbit. Raúl stands to his left, an ever needed quiet presence to reassure him that he has at least one competent man still by his side. He has lackeys galore, but they’re all scattered still trying to restore his businesses across town and are as useful as meat is to a vegetarian. They’re not the kind that you send to spy and obtain information or the kind that gives useful advice. They’re the type you send to shoot or capture; just a few men looking for easy money and status to feel important. Now he realizes how stupid he is for building an empire on the backs of incompetent men.

“We should fall back to the safe house. We’ve been staying at this hotel for too long. We can wait to hear from Virgil there.” Raúl suggests.

“You’re right. Let’s mo-”

Loud pounding against the door makes him reach for his pistol instinctively. This model feels foreign in his grip but he lost his favourite to Zhào a few days ago. ‘You let an old man disarm you and kill one of your men with your own weapon.’ The voice in his head taunts him for the umpteenth time since the incident.

“Boss! It’s me! Chavez!”

The tension bleeds away from his body. Raúl is quick to open the door for the man to enter. Chavez takes a minute to catch his breath while he eyes him with something akin to horror in his gaze.

“What is it Chavez?”

“It’s your daughter, boss. She… she’s getting married t-t-t-”

“Spit it out!” Donavon roars impatiently.

“Virgil sir. She’s getting married to Virgil.”

The world comes to a standstill around him and a loud ringing starts up in his ears. Virgil. How has he been so fucking blind? The way he always came to her defense; the gifts; his frequent visits to that fucking greenhouse.

“That fucker. That conniving little fucker!”

That means he’s the one who has his family.

“They’re somewhere safe. Somewhere they want to be.” Zhào’s words from earlier come creeping back in.

“They betrayed me too.” The realization makes his blood run cold.

“How are you sure about this, Chavez?” Raúl’s voice cuts through the ringing in his ears.

“Invitations were sent out to the families three days ago. The date is apparently set for this Saturday at the chapel downtown.”

Mr. Hernandez is no fool. He knows he can’t stop Virgil by himself with his operations in pieces. He needs help. He needs an ally who’s not only brazen but just as ambitious as Virgil. Someone with a lot of resources he could exploit to get rid of Virgil until he’s back to his full strength to take back his town after a false surrender.

“We need to stop that wedding by any means necessary. He’s probably using Sofía’s name to solidify his place here when he takes my city from me.” His body physically shakes with how tightly clenched his fists are. He can’t remember the last time he has felt so furious.

“We don’t have the resources right now, Mr. Hernandez. This will only lead to-”

“I know that, Raúl. Which is why I’m not doing it alone. Take me to the Ferrante residence now.”

**********

“You’re nervous.” Amelia comments with a frown.

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m about to get married.” Sofía smooths over her knee length baby pink dress for the twentieth time in the past few minutes.

“Yea but with only like four people bearing witness. Don’t be dramatic.”

“To the love of my life while I’m also having cramps, thank you very much.” Celeste fingers pause briefly against her face, before she resumes blending the concealer beneath her eyes.

“Oh brother.” Amelia rolls her eyes with a fake gag.

“You’re not a very good support person, right mom?”

Celeste hums above her head. The woman has barely spoken twenty words in the last couple of days.

“Mom?”

The woman pauses to reluctantly make eye contact with her.

“You’re on my side, right?”

Her mother cups her cheeks gently. “Always. In this life and the next.”

Sofía feels shy under Virgil’s heavy gaze while the official goes on in the background about the importance of marriage in the eyes of God and all who bear witness.

“You may now exchange your vows.” The man says with a small smile.

“No need. We love each other. Continue.”

Amelia, Zhào and Wang choke around their laugh a few feet away.

Sofía gasps softly; “Virgil, don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude. I need you like the very air I need to breathe. I don’t have to prepare a speech for others when you know that.”

She stares down at his chest bashfully as warmth floods her body.

The official clears his throat. “Well then, rings?”

Virgil is quick to slide the exact same ring that he presented to her a few days prior, except now it fits better after minor adjustments. She told him she didn’t want to change it. With bated breath, Sofía slowly slides the plain gold band around his long and surprisingly delicate finger.

“Well, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

She melts into him as soon as his lips touch her own. And if there was any lingering doubt in her mind, it would’ve vanished the second he kissed her. No one can fake a kiss full of so much desperation, passion and love. Small applause ring out from the four people who came to bear witness. Raúl’s position is too delicate for them to risk having him here. They both sign the expedited papers and Sofía pretends not to see the thick wad of cash Virgil subtlety hands to the judge in the courtroom.

“So it’s official. You’re married.” Amelia says with a small smile.

“Yes. So no matter what happens on Saturday…”

“Yes.”

“We need to move. Uncle, let’s talk.” Virgil says with a clench to his jaw while he stares at his phone.

“What is it?” Sofía asks anxiously.

“Your father has found out. He’s heading over to the Ferrante’s to make a proposition.”

Tension ripples through the small group. Celeste grips Sofía’s upper arm in an anxious squeeze.

“I’ll start readying our men then.” Amelia says with a cold glint in her eyes.

“Nephew, we need to make some calls.”

[slightly-knot-insane]

Gargoyle Knight and Smithy Reader- after getting together, knight hasn't been going to the smithy as much for repairs and a hurt reader misinterprets this as disinterest after a single lay, but really the truth is that knight is being more careful with himself since he can't imagine never seeing reader again!

Forge Through [ part 2 ]

[ m!gargoyle x fem!reader ]

[ part one ]

a/n: sfw, misunderstanding, hurt & comfort

Men! You hit the strip of metal in front of you so hard, the hammer almost flies out of your grip. They can never be trusted! Once they get between your legs, they don't care for you anymore!

It's been two weeks. Two tantalizing weeks since you've last seen him! No word, no letter, no nothing! You wanted to ask your family and neighbors if they had seen them, but you decided not to. They would immediately figure out why you're asking, and the teasing would never stop!

"Asshole," you hiss through your teeth.

But you two will meet one day. Oh, yes! He won't be able to avoid you his entire life. Wait... Gargoyles live for a very long time, right? In any case, he won't be able to avoid you for your entire life. And then you'll bang his stone head with your hammer like - this!

The loud metal clanging of your tools completely suffocates the opening of the smithy's door. You yelp in surprise as a pair of large stone hands grab you from behind and squeeze your tits.

"Hello, beautiful. I missed you so much." He kisses your cheek. "So warm and cute!"

You wave with your hammer, and the Gargole has to jump away to avoid it. "W-what? What did I do?"

"Out!" you scream at him. "Out, or I'll turn you into pebbles and throw you into the forge!"

You must've been quite a terrifying sight because he immediately runs out. That didn't make you feel any better, though. With a sniff, you return to your work.

***

Something hits your window with such force it almost breaks it. You jump out of your bed and look out. A very annoyed Gargoyle stands in the empty street holding a fist-sized rock.

"Are you insane?" You strain your voice to yell as quietly as possible. "You will destroy my window."

"I used smaller stones, but all that hammering must've harmed your ears," he retorts. "Let me in."

"No."

"Please."

"Fuck off."

He sighs. "I tried being nice. I did. No more."

He spreads his wings and jumps right onto your window. You don't have enough time to close it in time. He forces his way into your bedroom. "Now, we talk. What's the problem?"

You pout, barely holding back your tears. "You're playing with me."

"Wh—" Gargoyle looks stunned. "What gave you that idea?"

"Where were you all this time? You fucked me and then disappeared. With no words, nothing! You didn't take a single step in my mentor's smithy for days. You got what you wanted, and that's it. You want to serve me, yeah, right, right. Now would you kindly buzz off."

"Oh." His stone cheeks darken. "Oh fuck... nonono... You got it all wrong. I was... I was just looking for more work, and I am trying to be more careful."

"Be more careful?" His stuttering and blushing are confusing you.

"Yes, well, I'm just trying to be less reckless than before. You know, not to get hurt as much. And I got some new work, at night, and I don't have so much time during the day to visit you."

"Oh. I see." Why have you ever thought this could be anything deeper? Naive woman. "You are quite busy, okay. You could've... told me. I mean, no, why would you, there is no need—"

Gargoyle winces. "No, no, not like that! Shit! I just wanted to earn more money to... Ah, fuck."

You never saw him so serious. "I wanted to buy better gear, better armour. I need it to stay safe. Because I saw... I saw a friend die recently. You fixed his shoulder plate. But it was his helmet that wasn't strong enough. And... all that blood on his gear, and thinking about death, and..." He makes a long pause before looking at you. "And thinking about never seeing you again really... really scares me."

"Oh." You never expected this much honesty from him. Tears fill your eyes. "I didn't know... I'm so sorry..."

He takes a step closer. "I didn't want to worry you and make you cry. That's why... I didn't tell you anything."

You hit him. "You idiot! Why didn't you? It must've been so hard for you." You hit him again.

He giggles before pulling you in for a hug. "Yeah, it was hard... I made a mistake. Got you worried anyway."

"Just promise me..." You sniff into his shirt. "Just promise you'll never hide from me like this ever again."

He kisses your forehead, and you are pretty sure a little droplet falls on your hair. "Never again."

@teratopup

[oreoambitions]

supercorp 22 or 31 if it sparks joy? (also if there is a Better Prompt You’d Prefer ignore this one since you’re only doing 4!!!! :D) enjoy knocking off the rust oreo!

"things you said after it was over" The arena is a good investment, objectively. It’s long past time for National City’s women’s soccer team to have a facility of their own, and it’s good press for L-Corp to provide it. That’s what Sam said all those months ago when the portfolio landed on Lena’s desk, and it’s what she said weeks ago when they scheduled this gala, and it’s what she said this morning over breakfast when Lena considered faking a broken arm in order to get out of it. It’s what Sam will say about the two additional portfolios Lena knows are waiting for her at home – ice hockey and softball, apparently – and Lena knows that Sam will be right.

The truth is that in the past seven years Sam has never once led Lena or L-Corp astray – never once except today, and that isn’t really Sam’s fault. Women’s sports is a good investment: viewership is up, merchandising is up, public interest is up, and Sam gets to take a lot of pictures next to extremely fit and mostly queer women which is definitely a bonus.

The downside – and it’s a big one, as far as Lena is concerned – is that Supergirl has become National City’s biggest advocate for women’s sports. Which means that she’s almost definitely here somewhere.

Ah, there she is. Kara has one arm draped artfully over a cocktail table, looking for all the world as though she’s leaning on it but Lena knows she mustn’t be or the table would be matchsticks. She’s wearing a version of the super suit done up to look almost like a National City uniform, and Lena wants to say that it looks ridiculous but it doesn’t. It really, really doesn’t. And there, ah, is National City’s team captain, one hand ever so innocently caressing Kara’s bicep while Kara leans in a little, smirks, asks a question in that low voice Lena remembers all too well.

Lena turns away. Sam was wrong – seeing Kara after all these years isn’t completely fine. It’s completely not fine, and she can’t stop picturing that player’s fingers running over Kara’s muscles, and she’s going to throw up or throw something or just throw a tantrum maybe.

She snags a ginger ale off of a tray to wash the taste of shame out of her mouth. It has been seven years, and she’s happy. She and Sam have built a life together, and it’s a life anyone would be incredibly lucky to step into. But still. Still. In the months after it all ended, when Lena was still at least ostensibly welcome among the super friends, Nia Nal had introduced her to the word ‘situationship’ and something had clicked for Lena. Kelly Olsen had sent an artfully worded four paragraph text message that essentially boiled down to: the most painful relationships to end are the ones that were never formalized, because nobody really understands what you’re grieving.

Lena never called Kelly to talk about it, although she believed that Kelly believed the offer was sincere. What was there to say? There was no explosion, no acute injury. Kara just… left. Gradually, by degrees, without any kind of malice or any kind of explanation. She just wasn’t around anymore. When Lena called to catch up or make plans, she was always busy. And one morning Lena woke up and realized that she always would be.

So, fine, it’s been seven years and Lena hasn’t processed it all, but she’s an adult and she can handle Kara Danvers getting all dressed up for the cameras and letting the local fuckboi lesbian jocks fondle her arms. That’s just. That’s just Tuesday in National City, and Lena can deal. Sam will be here in half an hour and in the meantime Lena just has to look at anything and anyone else and-

“Lena.”

Well. Fuck. “Kara,” Lena replies. She holds up her ginger ale by way of a sarcastic toast.

“It’s been a minute.”

“You’ve been busy.”

There was a time when Kara’s eyes might have darted back and forth between Lena’s, mouth twisted in confusion, hands twisted with concern. This Kara only smiles a soft half smile, like the ice in Lena’s tone is a little inside joke just between the two of them. She glances back at the team captain, now engaged in conversation with a couple of suits by the bar.

“Haven’t we all,” Kara says. “It’s nice to see L-Corp taking an interest in women’s sports. All that money for fine arts, I’m surprised to see you involved with something so… pedestrian.”

Lena genuinely can’t suss out whether this is meant to be a jab or an actual expression of curiosity, so she sips her ginger ale and eyes Kara over the top of the glass. Where the fuck is Sam? This is going to be the longest half an hour of Lena’s life.

“Women’s sports is a good investment,” she says. Inside, she’s cringing. Women’s sports is a good investment? Really? You say to the poster child for women’s sports in National City? Okay.

Kara smiles for real this time. “Isn’t it? I’m glad the corporate world is finally catching on. There’s some real talent here, real potential.”

Kara hasn’t aged a day. Lena is hiding a couple of grey hairs under an expensive dye job and she wonders suddenly, irrationally, if Kara can see right through it. Probably not. Would it matter if she could? It shouldn’t.

“Well,” Kara says when Lena doesn’t answer. And there, for a moment, is the Kara she remembers: that sheepish quirk of the lips, the anxious twist of the hands. “I should let you go do whatever it is you people do at these events. I just- I wanted to say, I-” Kara looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. When she looks back down, she’s a vision of composure. “Well, I’ve missed you, and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I haven’t been around. But I’d like to catch up some time, if you haven’t lost my number.”

Lena nearly drops the ginger ale. The laugh that comes out of her is incredulous and involuntarily. “If I haven’t lost your number."

“I know. I just- I was in love with you, you know?” She laughs, and it reaches her eyes, like it really is the funniest thing. “And I knew you were never going to feel that way, and I just needed some distance. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship with my feelings, but I guess it turned out that way anyway, huh? But I’m- I’m good now. And you’re good, with Sam. So.”

The dizziness that comes over Lena is so intense that she sways for a moment on her feet. Kara tracks it, but doesn’t reach out to steady her. What she wants to say is, I was always going to feel that way, I always felt that way, I wanted you the whole time, I wanted, I wanted, I want-

What she says is: “I am good now, with Sam. But it was nice seeing you again.”

And then she waits. Kara half raises her hand like she’ll say something else, or touch Lena, or something - anything at all. She says, “Yeah. It was nice seeing you too.”

When Lena averts her gaze, Kara walks away. It’s better that way, that Kara should be the one to go. Lena doesn’t think she can do it. She thinks that perhaps she’ll stay rooted to this spot for the rest of her life. I was in love with you, you know?

Sam’s arms circle Lena from behind, and Lena, God help her, flinches before she realizes. Sam hums quietly, soothingly into the hair at her temple.

“How’s the party?” she whispers.

Lena doesn’t look at Kara. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “Absolutely perfect.”

[shyxcherry]

bruised hearts & steady hands | nicholas

summary: when your friends drag you for a night out, you didn't expect to catch the attention of the most attractive guy you've ever met. nor did you expect to sleep with him. but here you were, with messed up feelings about someone whose name you didn't even know. oh, and don't forget he's your brother's best friend (and boss).

pairing: tattooartist!nicholas x female!reader

warning: fluff, angst, smut (oral (both), fingering, both protected and unprotected sex), reader has some trauma in her past (mental health issues that aren't descripted but hinted at)

word count: 11.4k

notes: 2/9 of the series down! i absolutely loved how this turned out. like i need tattoo artist nicho like right now... next up in the series will be yuma! let me know who we want after him. likes and reblogs appreciated!

ink and asphalt masterlist

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

you let out a sigh as you set the box of kitchen items on the counter. every part of your body was killing you, having to go up two flights of stairs because of course the elevator would be out of service the day you move in. you all but collapse onto the cold tile floor to cool yourself off, looking up when you see your brother walk in with two more large boxes– looking unbothered as usual.

you wouldn't expect anything less from your brother, fuma. he was three years older than you, claiming the title as older sibling– and always using that against you. he's been your guardian since you were practically born. he hated when you moved a few hours away to go to college for the past few years. now that you were back, you were of course thrown under his wing again– not that you minded.

"how are you so unphased by this?" you ask, a little winded from your trip. fuma laughs, sitting the boxes down before grabbing a water, opening it before handing it to you. you drink half of the bottle before sitting it down beside you.

"maybe it's time for you to start working out, brat." you roll your eyes at his statement.

"i'll start working out when you get a girlfriend." you respond, grabbing his outstretched hand as he helped you off of the floor. "i still don't understand how you got me the apartment right next to yours."

"i promised the owner a free tattoo of any size."

your eyes widened. "that wasn't necessary, bear. i could've rented someplace else."

"it was necessary." he told you, leaving no room for argument. "it's my job to keep you safe."

you hum out a response as you start opening boxes to begin packing away. "you gonna hold my hand and walk me to work too?"

"no, but i am driving you."

you rolled your eyes at his answer. "that's only because i'm saving up for a car. it won't be for long."

"i don't care how long it is." fuma responded. "take your time. maybe spend some money on a new shirt first."

you look down when he tugged on the frayed shirt that clearly had a couple holes in it. this was one of your favorite shirts– fuma got it for you when you two went to a concert together when you were 15. you gasped at the notion, smacking his hand away from you. "how dare you say such a thing? you don't see me telling you to get rid of that dirty pokémon that i got you."

"maybe i will when you learn its name." he crossed his arms, waiting for you to tell him the name– chuckling when it was clear that you didn't know the name. "it's eevee."

"i knew that."

fuma rolled his eyes, messing up your hair as he walked by. "of course you did, brat."

"whatever." you huffed. "you got plans for the weekend?"

"yeah. i'm going out clubbing with the guys. wanna come?"

you shook your head. "chae and yunjin are also going clubbing and asked if i wanted to go with them."

"be careful, okay. i won't be drinking, so let me know if you need a ride."

you nod your head, a small smile on your face. "of course, bear. i'll be careful. promise."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

your promise to fuma to be careful went out the window as soon as you stepped into the club. you told yourself you were really going to try, but you immediately caught sight of arguably one of the most attractive guys you've ever seen. he instantly caught your eye– even as you sat down at a booth with chae and yunjin.

you couldn't see too much due to the dark lights, but you could see the way his dark eyes scanned the space with a confident aura. your eyes followed the sharp lines of his jaw, watching as they become more defined as he smiled at some guy as he walked by. and when he lifted his hand to brush his hair out of his face, you could see the tattoos peeking out from under his jacket sleeve. you felt yourself becoming entranced by the man who hadn't even looked in your direction yet.

you shouldn't even be entertaining the idea. you just moved here a few days ago– still getting settled into a new job. you shouldn't be tempted to find someone, but maybe you didn't. maybe you could just have some fun. just fun. no commitment.

"who are we staring at, babe?" you glance over to yunjin as she slides into the booth across from you, sitting down a round of drinks.

"he must be cute because she's been ignoring me for the last 5 minutes." chae responded with a light laugh.

you blush at the fact that you got caught staring at someone. "it's nothing. just a cute guy."

"cute like i want to bring him to meet the parents, or cute like i want to end the night underneath him screaming his name?" you nearly choke on your drink at yunjin's question. "i'm guessing it's the second option."

"oh, girl this could be so good for you." chae exclaimed.

you shook your head. "i don't have time for anything."

"but you do have time for a one night stand." yunjin spoke as she took a sip of her drink before motioning behind you. "i'm hoping that's the guy you were staring at because he's looking at you like he wants to devour you."

chae leaned over to look– a small gasp slipping past her lips. "yn! he's so cute."

you quickly glance over your shoulder, meeting the dark eyes that had captured your attention earlier. when he realized you were staring at him, he smirked, sending a wink in your direction. you bite your lip at the motion, an action that he noticed– eyes trailing to your lips. you smiled at that before quickly turning back around.

"oh my god. that's him." you whisper shout to your two clearly excited friends.

"whatever you just did worked because he has not stopped staring." chae responded. "who knew our girl had it in her?"

"she's about to have a lot more in her."

you groan at her words but couldn't help the stir in your stomach at the thought. you never thought you would be the one for a one night stand, but for someone like him, you would make an exception. "what do i do?"

"you're going to get your ass up and make him come to you." yunjin said, receiving two confused looks from you and chae. "go dance babe."

your eyes widened. "not alone!"

"oh please." yunjin brushed off your concerns with a flick of her wrist. "you won’t be alone for more than a few seconds. i guarantee it. if not, i’ll join you. just make sure you text us in the morning, so we know you're still alive."

you thought about it for a moment, chewing on your lip. "am i really about to do this?"

"yes, you are." chae nodded. "you said it yourself. you have worked hard to get to where you are, and you deserve a night of fun. besides, you said your last boyfriend was shit in bed, so you clearly need to get laid properly."

you let out a sigh, drinking the rest of your drink before standing up. even as you leave the table and disappear in the large crowd, you could still feel his eyes on you– watching you. you tried to blend in, even though you've never danced alone before, closing your eyes before dancing along to the music.

you were alone for maybe 30 seconds before you felt a warm body slide behind yours. his sharp cologne hit your nose as his hand flattened on your stomach, pulling you closer to him. as the two of you dance, you could feel his semi as your back pressed against his front– feeling as it gets harder when you roll your hips back. his other hand moves across your shoulder, running his thumb over your jaw before tilting your head up– meeting his gaze for a second time.

"keep dancing with me like this, and you're not leaving alone." his voice low, rough as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

your breath hitches as his lips graze the shell of your ear. you turn your head, catching more glimpses of tattoos on his neck and chest as you turn around in his arms – grabbing his jacket and pulling him closer to you. “good.”

his eyes scan your face for any sort of hesitance, but he doesn’t get any. his hand slides to the small of your back – the other one in your hair. he slightly tugs on the strands, angling your gaze back up to his. his breath was warm as it hit your skin as his nose brushed yours. “i don’t let go easy.”

“who likes easy?” you respond, earning a low chuckle from him. “but if you take me home, i should at least know your name.”

his smirk was teasing, lips almost brushing yours as his hand moves out of your hair – thumb trailing along your bottom lip that was painted red. “you’ll forget it with the way i plan to touch you, but you can call me weno if you want.” you could tell that wasn’t his actual name, and somehow that made you feel more calm about this. he knew it as well that it was only for tonight. “and i’ll call you red.”

your mouth parted, and he took the opportunity to slide his thumb into your mouth. you wrapped your lips around him, circling your tongue around his thumb as you suck – all while keeping eye contact with him. a small curse leaves his mouth as he watches you. he slowly pulls his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your saliva on your lower lip. he didn’t say another word, grabbing your jaw before slamming his lips onto yours.

his kiss was rough, claiming you like he’s been wanting to do since he set his sights on you. you gasp into his mouth, fingers clutching his shoulders before moving up to tangle into his hair. he lets out a barely their groan when you pull on the strands, but you could feel the vibration against your lips. your lips parted– his tongue sliding against yours, slow and teasing. you shiver as the cool jewel of his tongue piercing slid against your tongue because of course he had one. he almost refused to stop, but as much as he wanted to, he didn’t take it any further – not while the two of you were still in the middle of the dance floor. his grip on your back tightened as he pulled away from you first. you let out a breath, finally feeling the intensity of the kiss, you just shared. your eyes meet his, slightly nervous that he didn’t feel the same way, but all you saw was his eyes, somehow darker now, staring down at you with the same intensity you were sure you had.

“do you want to go back to mine?” his tone was short, clearly struggling to keep control of his emotions.

“i would be really disappointed if not.” you untangle your hands from his hair– him grabbing your hand immediately before guiding you out of the club. you met yunjin’s and chae’s eyes for a second, sending a quick wave while watching the two freak out. you would never hear the end of this from the two of them.

he led you over to his car. “i haven’t had anything to drink, so you’re safe with me.”

you nodded your head, allowing him to help you get in before he got in himself. the lights lit up the car as you passed under them before you two were developed into darkness. his hand drifted to your thigh, right above your knee– unmoving as he tries to focus on the road, but you were making it impossible. the way your eyes watch his every move, lips swollen from where he’s kissed you, thighs clenched shut as you shift in your seat.

he meets your gaze as he pulls up to his place. “last chance to turn back.”

you wait until he parks the car before unbuckling your seatbelt, leaning over– lips grazing his ear while your other hand brushes against his erection. “bold word coming from someone with a boner.”

“get out of the car.” you smile at his demand, pulling away from him before getting out of the car. he once again grabs your hand, guiding you up the driveway before letting the two of you into the house. it was dark, and he didn’t bother to turn any lights on before he pulled you into him. “you’re mine now.”

his mouth crashed against yours, done with the teasing from earlier. the kiss was hot and messy– all tongue and teeth as his hands grip at your sides. his hands bunch up your dress, allowing his hands to run along your bare legs, squeezing at the tender flesh. you moan into the kiss when his hands pull your dress up even more, exposing your lower half to him. his lips leave yours as he spins you around, chest pressed against the wall as his thigh pushes between your legs. his hands tightly grip your waist as his hips press against yours– moaning out when his clothed erection rolls against you. his breath was rough on your neck as his lips attach to the skin, biting down hard enough to have you gasp.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it red?” you nod your head. tilting your head to allow him even more of your body that felt like it was on fire– everywhere he touched felt like a match had been stuck there.

his hand slides around your waist, trailing along the edge of your waistband before moving down between your legs. his touch was slow, teasing as his fingers ran over the fabric– feeling the wet spot and showing how much you wanted him. “so wet, red. and i haven’t even started yet.”

“weno–” you whine out when his fingers slip into the front of your underwear. his touch was slow, just enough to make you squirm, not enough to satisfy. you hear his low chuckle in your ear when you push back against him.

“patience, red. i’m going to take my time with you.”

your whine quickly turns into a sigh in relief, cheek resting against the wall when his thumb finally puts pressure on your throbbing clit. his lips continued to kiss and bite along your neck as his touch deepens, teasing your slit before he slides a finger inside of you, barely giving you any time to adjust before he’s moving his hand– groaning against your ear when you clench around him as a moan escapes your lips.

“so tight.” he breaths, curling his finger just right to have your back arch, crying out at the feeling. “how long has it been since someone’s touch this gorgeous body?”

“too long.” you groan out as he plunges in a second finger. he started out slow before building up a rhythm that had you rolling your hips against his hand. “fuck– weno.”

“there she is. i want you to lose control for me. you’re not leaving here without screaming my name to the point where you can’t talk.” you jump when his thumb increases speed on your clit, circling the bud tightly. you whine out his name as his hand pumped faster, motions deliberate– wanting to watch as you fell apart. “let me hear how good you sound as you come all over my fingers, red.”

his fingers curled, hitting the perfect spot to bring you over the edge. you cried out his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your high. his grip was tight on your waist as you opened your eyes to meet his, lust filling his eyes. his fingers leave you as he pulls his glistening hand up to his face. he makes sure you keep eye contact as he cleans off his hand with his mouth, groaning at the taste and leaving you desperate for more.

“you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

your world is flipped upside down as he throws you over his shoulder. he climbs a set of stairs before opening a door down the hallway. it was pitch black as he threw you back onto the bed. he turned his bedside lamp on before he climbed on top of you– legs keeping you hostage. his breath hit your lips before his tongue shoved past your lips, brushing against your tongue lazily, but it kept you wanting more. your hands gripped his shoulders, pushing his jacket off before trying to pull his shirt off as well. he bit your lip before he sat up– a silent warning to not being patient as he pulled off his shirt.

your eyes ran down his chest and arms, seeing the tattoos that painted over almost all of his skin. you only looked away when you heard him laugh, meeting his eyes as he leans back down– holding your jaw as he kissed you. “like what you see red?”

you open your mouth to respond but stop when his hands cup your breasts. a small gasp left your mouth when he pulled the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. his lips trail down your neck, biting and sucking, while his hands return to your breasts. his hands rough and teasing, squeezing just enough to make you arch into his touch. you could feel his smug smile on your skin, nipping at your neck as his thumb brushed over your nipple. you jump– a moan leaving your lips when he pinches the sensitive bud.

“listen to you. so responsive already, and i’m just getting started.”

his mouth left your neck, impatiently moving down to your chest. he pulled your dress down even further as he kissed between your breasts, letting his tongue trace shapes as he slowly trailed down. his hands cupped your breasts again– like he loved the feeling of them in his hands. he squeezed them one last time before his tongue found your breast. he flicked your nipple teasingly before latching his mouth around it, sucking harshly.

you gasp, back arching as your hands tangle in his hair. “fuck, weno.” he was like an animal– biting and sucking until your skin turned red before running his tongue along the area, soothing it. his hands groping and squeezing at every inch of skin his mouth couldn’t. your back arched into his mouth when he groaned– the vibration sending chills across your skin. “weno, please.”

“greedy girl. begging for more already?” he taunted as his hands started to pull the dress off your body. as soon as he threw the dress, his lips moved away from your breast, trailing slow, heated kisses down your stomach while his hands toyed with your waistband. “say please again and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”

“please.” you beg, raising your hips, desperate for more. “please, weno.”

he let out a hum of approval, sliding your bottoms down your legs. his kissed the inside of your thigh before kissing the other one, biting down in warning when you whined in impatience. he moved forward, finally giving you some relief. his tongue was slow, licking along your folds – watching when you jerked when his piercing pressed against your clit. you had never felt anything like it before, and now you were questioning why. “you’re sweet as sin, red.”

he dove in completely without warning, tongue moving against you like he had done it a million times and knew exactly how to make you scream. he let his piercing do most of the work, circling and rolling over your clit – having you grab the sheets to try to ground yourself. your moans were getting louder, more frequent as his hand spread across your stomach, holding you down. his other hand that was gripping your thigh moved, slightly ghosting up your leg until he was teasing your entrance. with one motion, he plunged two fingers deep inside of you– your hand tangling in his hair at the action.

“f- weno.”

you could feel him get more confident, more into making you come undone again for him. he kept changing up his speed, going fast enough to have your eyes rolling back before slowing down– allowing you to feel everything he was giving you. your heels dug into the mattress, thighs trying to close around his head which only made him pull you closer to his mouth. you glanced down, eyes widening when you took him in. his eyes were half closed, glazed over with lust– face glistening with your slick. he blinked, looking up to see you looking at him. you feel him smirk against you before he winked, curling his fingers enough to have you throw your head back. your stomach tightened, curling with heat– making you let out a low, whining moan.

“are you going to come again, red?” he taunted, pressing his piercing flat against your clit, holding you down when you jerk. you’re unable to answer him, nodding your head at his question. “say please.”

“p-please let me come, weno.”

“good girl.” he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking harshly, watching as your back arches off the bed. he fills you tighten around his fingers, his name leaving your lips a second later as you reach your high. your hand wounded tightly in his hair, pulling hard enough to have him groaning against you. he stuck his tongue out, cleaning up every drop of your release off you and his hand before moving back up your body. you opened your eyes, instantly meeting his dark ones. “you’re going to ruin me red.”

instead of responded, you hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to you. your lips crashed together in a heated kiss as he closes the distance between you– chest pressed tightly together as his lips move against yours. your hands roam his body, feeling every muscle and grove before your hands meet his waistband. he lifted up slightly, helping you get his bottoms off, leaving him bare above you. your eyes glaze over his body, examining every inch of his skin. most of it was tattooed– colors and symbols marking his skin and making him even more stunning.

he moved to hover over you again, but your hands caught him, pushing him to lay on his back before you moved to straddle him. you lean down, capturing his lips again before moving down to his neck. he exposed his neck, keeping his hands tight around your waist, as he lets you bite and mark him like he did to you. you continue making your way down his neck before moving down his chest and stomach until your reach his cock, thick and throbbing– leaking against his stomach. your hand wraps around him, giving him a soft stroke that had him biting his lip, nearly bucking into your hand with need.

you lean down, taking your time as you slowly run your tongue along the underside, watching as he curses with your touch. “fuck, red.”

you smirk before taking as much of him into your mouth as you could– hand wrapping around the rest. he lets out a groan, hand wrapping in your hair. you fully expected him to guide you, but he didn’t. he let your pick the pace, pulling when your tongue swirled around him. you moan, and that alone has him nearly coming undone. you pull away from him with a small ‘pop’ before looking up at him. you kept your hand moving, squeezing at the base and watching him thrust up into your hand.

“condom?” he blinks at your question for a second before the words register. you keep your hand slowly moving as he reaches over into his nightstand, pulling out a condom. you grab it from him– him groaning when you open it with your teeth before sliding it down him.

you move up, hands braced on his shoulders as you straddled his hips. he had a teasing grin on his face that you watched falter as you sank down onto him. a low groan left his lips, along with a gasp from you. his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as your hips met his. your breath hitched at the fill of him, loving the way he felt as you adjusted to him.

you started out slow, rolling your hips in a way that had him squeezing your sides– no doubt leaving bruises. his hands started to help guide you, his hips thrusting up at points to meet yours. you lean down, breath shaky as your lips meet his. his hand grips the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. he felt your moves falter, thighs trembling from your efforts. his hands move, wrapping around your waist before flipping you over. your back hits the mattress– his lips pressing into yours as he thrusts into you.

“i’ve got you.” his voice quiet against your lips, moving to your neck as his pace builds into fast, desperate thrusts. “fuck, red. you feel so fucking good.”

your nails dig into his back, chest arching into his as his lips claim yours again. he kisses you messily– getting lost in pleasure like you were. your voice raw as your moans turn into soft gasps, hips rolling up to meet his. he could feel you– could tell that you were close by the way your thighs started trembling again, nails scraping down his back.

his hand reaches between you, finding your swollen clit with his fingers, circling it slowly. it was just enough to have you crying out his name as you fell over the edge. you arch into him, extremities wrapping around him tightly, clenching around him as you start to come down. his hips kept moving, starting to stutter as he feels it. your arms pull him down, clinging to him as you kiss him, and that was enough for him. he thrusted one last time with a groan against your lips as he released into the condom.

he stays still for a moment, head resting against yours as the two of you catch your breaths. his hand moves up, fingers trailing along your jaw. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay.” you nod with a soft smile. you expected things to turn awkward after this. like he would immediately want you gone. instead, you felt the opposite, smiling when he leans down to kiss you again.

he doesn’t say much after, leading you not to either. he moves away from you, taking off the condom before grabbing a towel before helping you clean up. you were confused, wondering why he wasn’t asking you to leave. he laid back down beside you, pulling you against his chest, holding you. he pulls the cover around the two of you, pressing one last kiss to your shoulder before you hear his breaths even out– signaling that he was asleep.

you allow yourself to believe that all of this meant something to him like it did to you. maybe it wasn’t just a one night stand because none of this felt like one. but then your thoughts started creeping in– your fear of commitment. you’ve had plenty of boyfriends, but you’ve always kept them at an arm's length, not even letting your brother or mother meet them. you wouldn’t be able to do that with him, and that scared you more that it should. you start to regret coming here because now you’re now going to be stuck on some guy who’s name you didn’t even know.

that thought alone sent a pain through your chest. you asked for his name, and he wouldn’t give it to you. he made his intentions clear that this wasn’t anything more than one night. you try to convince yourself that it meant nothing. he got what he wanted, and so did you. that was it.

so why did it hurt so bad when you snuck out that next morning?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the last two weeks have been hard to say the least. every time you let your mind drift, they drifted back to your mystery man. his sharp, dark eyes. his teasing smile that seemed to never leave. the way your skin still feels like it’s on fire from where he touched, no matter how many times you scrubbed at the skin. the love bites and bruises that littered your skin took a week to disappear, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them– mind drifting back to the best night you’ve ever had before you ruined it.

a part of you felt stupid for being so hung up on someone you only knew for a few hours. it wasn’t supposed to feel like this– like a part of you was broken because you didn’t stay. leaving didn’t normally hurt like this. it didn’t normally leave a pit in your stomach that refused to go away. no matter what you did or what you told yourself, it stayed almost like it was mocking you.

you open the door to the tattoo shop where your brother works, the bell dinging and signaling your arrival. you were supposed to be meeting with him to go car shopping since you were finally settled in. the shop was quiet, empty since it was late on a tuesday afternoon. you noticed some guy sitting behind the counter, hood on sketching on a tablet with his back turned towards you.

“excuse me.” you call out, walking up to the counter. “i’m looking for fuma.”

you watch as his back tenses, confusing you. his hand stops, dropping the pen before turning around. your eyes widen, jaw dropping when you see the guy from that night staring back at you just as shocked as you were. unlike you, he quickly pulled together his act, taking his hood off before standing up– smirk back on his lips.

“didn’t think i’d see you again, red.” his tone was cocky, borderline cruel nearly making you flinch. you try to brush off the sting, matching his tone with an equally rude one.

“didn’t think you’d care, weno.”

“right.” he let out a scoff, leaning forward onto the counter. “that’s why you left, huh?”

he watched your expression flicker, hurt flashing before you covered it up. “what was i supposed to? stay? you didn’t say anything. not even your name. just held me like i was a stuffed animal– like i was convenient for you.”

“i didn’t want to mess anything up.” he spoke. “i thought if i said something, it would only push you away.”

“and i thought if i stayed, you’d push me away.”

his mouth opened like he was going to say something but was stopped when fuma walked into the room. “nicho, i see you met yn.”

his eyes widen just slightly as his gaze flickers back to you. you nod your head, finally knowing his name. it was nicholas. him and another guy owned this tattoo shop where fuma works. he was also one of fuma’s best friends. you unknowingly slept with your brother's best friend.

you blink away your pain, replacing it with a smile as you turn to your brother. “yes, he was just telling me about the shop.”

“maybe now that you’ve seen the place, you’ll finally let me tattoo you.” you roll your eyes at your brother’s antics.

“in your dreams.”

he laughs before motioning to the back. “i’m going to go grab the car. i’ll meet you out front.”

once he walked back the way he came, nicholas turned to you. “did you-”

“no.” you answer, knowing what he was going to ask. “did you?”

“no.” you nod your head, turning to leave out of the front door when he stopped you again. “did that night really mean nothing to you?”

you sigh, hand on the handle before turning to him. “it doesn’t matter if it did anymore. not only are you my brother’s boss, but you’re his friend. i’m not doing that to him. no matter how much that night meant to me.”

you left the store without another word, and you thought that would be the last you would see of nicholas, but of course the universe had other plans. and by universe, you meant fuma. he kept inviting you out with the guys, so you could get to know them. and of course, you couldn’t say no because he would ask why, and you weren’t telling him you unknowingly slept with his friend. he also introduced you to one of his friend’s k’s girlfriend, who you absolutely adored. his friends were nice, and you got along with all of them. except one– the one who refused to leave your mind.

you couldn’t stand to be anywhere close to nicholas. every time you were near him, you could feel your chest ache, the guilt of leaving him hitting you. you weren’t going to go back on your word, and that made it so much harder because he kept trying to get you to. every time no one was paying attention, there was some sort of lingering touch or hushed words that made you just want to jump into his arms. it was starting to get harder and harder to brush them off. he was making you go crazy– like you couldn’t breathe when you were around him. every time you closed your eyes you saw him. every time you saw something red, you thought of him and that nickname he only called you when no one was paying attention. it was only a matter of time before you snapped.

it was late, after hours at the shop. everyone had left, except you, nicholas, and fuma. you were helping fuma clean his station when he stepped out for a smoke because he wouldn’t do it near you since you didn’t like it. as soon as you were alone, you could feel his eyes on you, lingering until he finally spoke up.

“are you really not going to say anything to me?”

you shrug your shoulders, not looking at him. “there’s nothing for me to say.”

“red, you left before i could wake up and say anything.” you turn around, meeting his gaze and trying not to falter. you needed to be strong not only for you but for your brother. you wouldn’t hurt him, and you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“exactly.”

you watch as his jaw clenches in anger, storming up to you from across the room– chests brushing as he looks down at you. “so that was it? just one night?”

“you and i both made it clear that it was only one night. hence the phrase one night stand.” you take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“things change.”

you nod. “they do. like the fact that you’re my brother's friend.”

“i didn’t know that, but that doesn’t change anything.” you let out a sigh as he argues with you.

“it does.” you argue back. “it makes it complicated. messy.”

“or maybe it makes it real.”

your breath hitches at his words, gazing fully into his eyes for the first time tonight. you feel a knot in your throat as you blink back tears. “why do you care so much? it was supposed to be only one night.”

“because i haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.” he answers. “and i know you haven’t either. i know you watch when you think i’m not paying attention. staring at me– my body as you remember how good i made you feel. how real it felt. and you just want to what? forget it ever happened because it’s easier? because you’re scared?”

“you don’t know me!” you snap, tears falling– hitting your cheeks. you watch as his face drops at the sight of your tears. his hand clenches like he’s stopping himself from wiping your tears. “you’re asking me to give you something that i’ve never given to anyone before.”

“it’s okay to be scared, red. i won’t hurt you.” you almost soften at the nickname that you came to love, but you still couldn’t force yourself to go there.

“i’m not scared. i’m terrified. what if i let you in, and you leave? what if you become important to me, and you leave? i can’t– i just can’t.” you move away from him, ignoring the calling of your name as you run out of the shop– with hopes of never seeing him again.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

it’s been a week since your breakdown on nicholas. you had completely stopped tagging along with fuma much to everyone’s dismay. you kept pushing away fuma and his interrogations– burying yourself in work and your other friends to avoid him. you’ve gotten a few texts from some of the guys, begging you to come hang out with them, but you refused every time. you couldn’t let yourself be around nicholas because you don’t trust yourself to keep being able to refuse him. a part of you also thinks he actually got the message, moving on from you. you weren’t going to be able to handle that, but it was your fault. you were the one who told him to leave you alone. why were you like this? why couldn’t just give him a chance? instead, you let your fear ruin you once again.

you know you were starting to concern fuma. you had done this before– slowly drifting away from him until he nearly lost you. you could tell it was starting to scare him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him what was wrong. what if he was mad at you or judged you? you can handle anyone else doing those things, but not your brother. not the man who has taken care of you since you were a kid because your mother wasn’t able to– too wrapped up in her sorrows to care for two kids. he was the one who taught you to ride a bike. to cook. he even learned how to do makeup, so he could teach you how to do it. he was the one person who was always there for you, so you never want him to be disappointed in you. but the guilt of sleeping with nicholas, and him not knowing was making you lose sleep at night.

it was a friday evening, and fuma texted you seeing if you wanted to hang out at the shop with him and some of the guys. of course, you said no because you knew nicholas would be there. you didn’t get a response, so you expected to be alone for the evening when you heard a knock on your door. you get up, moving towards the door before opening it. there stood your brother with some alcohol and fried food– your guys go to for nights in.

you move aside, letting him in. “i thought you were hanging out with the guys.”

“got the urge to hang out with my favorite person instead.” he responded, dragging you into the living room before setting up the food. you sit next to him, curling your legs as you watch him pull food out of the bags. “i’d rather hang out with you instead.”

“i know i’m pretty awesome, but you didn’t have to do this.” you bump his shoulder before grabbing a piece of chicken.

“i wanted to.” he opened a drink for you before opening one of his own. “you’ve been acting weird lately.”

“weird?” you question.

“like before.” you went quiet at his words. you didn’t expect him to come right out and say it. you know your pasts were rough and that caused you two to go through some things, but you promised him you would never go to that dark place again.

“it’s not like that. i promise.” you reassure him. your eyes meet his, and you could tell he was trying to make sure you were telling the truth– giving you a small nod when he realized you were. “i’m just- i don’t know. going through something, and i’m trying to figure out how to get over it.”

fuma leaned over, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “let me help you, brat.”

“i don’t think you can, bear.”

“we’ll never know if you don’t tell me.” fuma pushed. you look down at your lap, picking at your hoodie before you spoke up.

“when i went to the club with the girls, i met someone.” you started to explain. “it felt like- i don’t know– like a chemical reaction. i’d never felt like that with someone before.”

“did you sleep with him?” fuma questioned.

you nodded your head– choosing not to go into detail to save you both the trauma. “it was supposed to be a one night stand. we didn’t even tell each other our names. but it didn’t feel like that. it felt like i had just found a missing piece i didn’t know i lost. but i ruined it.”

“how so?”

“i left that next morning without waking him. i wanted to stay, so bad. but i was scared that he was going to push me away, so i left before he could. and that’s not what he wanted at all.”

“he wanted you to stay?” you nod your head at his question. “so i’m assuming you ran into him again.” another nod from you. “so, what’s the isssue then?”

“i got scared, so i pushed him away.”

“why?”

“because of mom.” you answered– listening as fuma sighed out. he was fully aware of your fear of commitment because of your guys’ mother. “we watched her, bear. after dad died, she became a shell, and there wasn’t anything we could do about it. you had to step up and take care of me because i would’ve ended up like her. after watching her, i made a promise that i wouldn’t allow myself to get close to anyone, so they couldn’t hurt me like that.”

“yn–” fuma started to say, but you shook your head.

“you don’t get it. the way i feel about him is exactly the way mom felt about dad. i remember always asking her why she chose him and not understanding any of her reasons. now i do, and that terrifies me. if i let him in, and something happens, i’m not strong enough to survive that.”

silence encases the two of you while fuma processes your words. “you’re not mom. you are so much stronger than her– stronger than anyone i know.”

“he makes me feel weak.” you tell him. “but he also makes me feel things no one else has.”

“then give him a chance to prove it. it will hurt you more to live with this regret of not doing something.”

“you think i should go after him?” you ask.

fuma nods. “i think if not being with him makes you feel like this, i think it’s worth trying. after i meet him, that is.”

“you already have.” you mumble, watching as his face turns to confusion– before turning into horror.

“is it nicho?” your silence was his answer. “i knew something was going on with him. he hasn’t been acting himself the past few weeks, especially this last week.”

“i kind of blew up on him last week.” you speak up. “but i didn’t know who he was when i slept with him. you gotta believe me.”

fuma smiles at you, relieving your fear of him being mad. “i know, brat. i’m not mad. i just wish you told me sooner, so we could’ve talked about this. you know i hate it when you push me away.”

“i’m sorry.” you apologize. “i was scared you would be upset.”

fuma pulls you into his side. “upset with you? i don’t think that’s a thing. you couldn’t do anything that would make me be upset with you.”

“even being with your friend who is also your boss?” fuma nods.

“even then, brat. but you got to promise me you’ll start talking to me if something is bothering you.”

“i promise.” you smile. “so, what do i do?”

“stop running. give him a chance. i’ve known nicho for years, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. he’s a good guy.” fuma explained. “k has a race tomorrow, and he’s going to be there. want to tag along?”

you thought about it for a moment before nodding. “let’s do it.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the air was thick, and you couldn’t tell if it was from your nerves of seeing nicholas again, or if it was the giant crowd that never seemed to disperse. your brother was in front of you, guiding you over to where the rest of the guys were. the music was loud– lights blinding you. but that didn’t stop you from finding him.

he was leaning back on a black car you knew belonged to k, dark hair parted showing his forehead. he was dressed like when you first met him– black jeans and a leather jacket with a white shirt that was low cut, exposing his tattoos. he was sporting a smile as he watched harua and some girl you didn’t recognize argue.

“yn!” you turn just in time to be tackled in a spine crushing hug. you let out a groan as you try to wiggle out of your capture’s arms.

“taki, let me go.”

“never.” he squeezed you, laughing when you let out a groan. “not until you promise you won’t avoid us again.”

“i wasn’t avoiding you, but i promise.” you gasp when he let you go. you push him away from you, nearly knocking him over as you moved away from him. “k, control your psycho son.”

“i will when you tell me why you haven’t been coming around.” k spoke as he walked up to you. you stilled for a moment at his question– something that he didn’t notice, but someone else did.

“k, leave her alone.” a feminine voice spoke up as k’s girlfriend made her presence known. the heavily tattooed girl had her arms crossed over her chest as she made her way to you two. “you guys keep bombarding her, and she’s going to leave again. i don’t blame you though, yn. these guys are a lot sometimes.”

“angel!”

she ignored him, turning fully towards you with a smile. “let’s go get something to drink.”

you laugh at the betrayed look on k’s face, snorting when it turned into glaring at you for taking his girl away. the two of you leave, but not before you glance at where you last saw nicholas– furrowing your brows when you couldn’t find him. you kept your eye out for him as the two of you went to get drinks– listening to her tell a story about high school when you found him. and how you wished you didn’t.

he was talking to a girl you didn’t know, laughing when she said something funny. her hand brushed his arm, lingering for a second too long for it to be innocent. she was tall, model like pretty, and covered in tattoos just like him. they looked good standing side by side, and that hurt you more than you like to admit. you wanted to mad at him but stopped yourself. you shouldn’t even be acting like this. you two weren’t anything– you made sure of it by pushing him away. and the pain in your chest watching them is why you didn’t want to get any closer to him, but there was a new part that had you still wanting him despite the fact he could hurt you.

“are you okay?” you look up to see her looking at you in concern. you smile, nodding your head.

“i’m fine. just looking for a bathroom.”

she pointed it out, and you took the chance to walk away. not just from her, but from the race itself. you didn’t realize that you were almost home but didn’t stop until you closed the door of your empty apartment– something that used to bring you comfort but now brings you sorrow. you were tired of the quiet. tired of the alone, but you didn’t know how to do otherwise. you’ve ran for so long, you don’t know how to stay still.

a low knock on the door broke you from your thoughts. you stand there, staring at the door unmoving. it wasn’t until they knocked again– harder that you moved. you unlocked the door and had just barely opened it when you saw a flash of black push their way into your apartment, shutting the door, leaving you completely alone with who you’ve been running from. you watch as nicholas blocks your exit, leaving you locked in your apartment with him. his eyes never leaving yours as he did so.

“why did you leave?”

you shrug your shoulders, trying to stop yourself from becoming defensive as it came to natural to you at this point. “that’s not my scene.”

“are you sure?” nicholas questioned, taking a step towards you. his voice level– calm but still had that pushing edge to it. “or is it because you saw me talking to someone? because you seemed completely fine until you saw her.”

you shake your head, folding your arms to stop the shaking. “no. it wasn’t about her.”

“no, it wasn’t. it was about you.” you back up when he walks forward, trying desperately to keep your distance. “you weren’t mad. you weren’t upset. you were scared.”

“stop.”

he continued, despite your beg for him to stop. “you looked hurt. like it hurt you to lose me.”

you swallow hard, hating how well he could read you. how could he know this? you two barely knew each other. “don’t-”

“you said you don’t do this.” he stopped an inch from you, arms shooting out to hold onto the couch– blocking you in. “i can be patient. i can wait as long as i have to for you. i’m not asking you to give me all of you. i’m only asking for you to stop running away from things that feel real. from me.”

“what if it is real?” your expression tightened, pushing back your tears. “what if i let it be real, and one day i wake up and it’s gone?”

his gaze softened, lifting his hand up– brushing against your cheek. you didn’t flinch away like the last time he tried to touch you. his jaw dropped when he realized you were letting him in or at least trying to. “then i’ll be right by your side telling you that i’m not going anywhere, red.”

“i don’t know how to let people in. or how to stop running.” he smiled at your honesty, something that shocked you.

“that’s okay. we have time, okay? just don’t shut me out anymore. let me prove to you that i’m not going anywhere.”

you blink at him, jaw clenching as you fought against everything you had believed in for so long. nicholas could see the fight, hoping that you would pick him. his heart dropped when you brushed his hand away from you, but that disappeared when you when you fell into his arms, wrapping your arms around him. his hand cradled your head as you rested it on his chest, other one pulling you closer to him. his lips pressed against your forehead– a silent thank you for choosing him.

his hands cupped your cheeks when you pulled back to look at him before leaning down. the kiss was soft, patient– like he was promising you he wouldn’t mess it up. your hands curled against his jacket, pulling him closer to you. it felt the same but completely different than last time. it felt like he was trying to take away all of your fears and worries, but it was okay if he couldn’t– because he was going to be there every step of the way until you weren’t.

you sighed into the kiss, lips parting when his tongue traced across them. his hands drifted, running down your sides until he was gripping your hips– pulling them flush against his. your thumb ran along his jaw, drawing a silent groan from him. he pulled away from you, resting his head against yours. “you okay, red?”

“i’m okay.” you nod, letting your hands slowly run down his chest. he watched your actions– intentions clear as day. his eyes met yours, and he couldn’t see any doubt. any fear. just want.

his mouth met yours again, pressing deeper– needier as he felt how much you wanted him. his hands slide underneath your shirt, heating up your skin as he traces along your skin. as his lips got more heated, he didn’t rush. you could tell he was going to take his time just like last time. he was going to make you feel everything he was going to give you, so you never have to question his intentions again.

his grip tightened when you leaned up to kiss him, trying so hard to apologize through your touch. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

“hey. hey.” he soothed as he saw your tears. “you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? you don’t have to be sorry.”

“but you never gave up trying to talk to me, and i pushed you away every time.”

“because you were hurt in the past.” he spoke calmly, watching as you try to blink back your tears before they fell. “fuma told us about your guy’s upbringing, and i didn’t realize the effect that had on you until the last time we talked.”

“i missed you.” you admitted quietly, watching as his breath hitched at your words.

“i missed you too.” he admitted. “every time i’m in my room, i’m just brought back to that night over and over again.”

“i shouldn’t have left. i didn’t want too.” nicholas smiles at your confession.

“i should’ve been clearer about what this was.” he told you. “this wasn’t just one night, red. never was. i wanted you that night and every night since then, and i will want you just as much tomorrow.” you push down the fear at his words, nodding your head. you were ready to try. you wanted to trust him when he said he wasn’t leaving. he leaned his forehead against yours. “and i will tell you every day until you believe me because i’m not going anywhere.”

you push forward, pulling him closer to you as you kissed him. his hand splayed across your lower back, keeping you in place. he kept the pace slow– hand guiding your head how he wanted to, tilting your head back as his lips left yours. he kissed your neck, leaving marks on your sensitive skin. your hands let go of his jacket when you feel him shrug it off before throwing it onto the couch behind you.

he kept his kisses and touches slow, but they did become more heated– setting your skin on fire. his hands trailing down to your waist. “where’s your room, red?”

“behind you.” you answer, letting out a shriek when he threw you over his shoulder just like he did last time. “i have legs, you know?” you heard him chuckle as he opened the door. you thought that was the end of it, but you jumped when you felt a sharp pain. “did you just bite my ass?”

your back landed against the mattress as he threw you off of his shoulder, but instead of crawling on top of you, he stood in between your open legs, gripping your thighs before pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. his eyes, dark and glazed with lust, trailed over you, lingering on the exposed skin where your shirt rode up. you sit up, pulling the shirt over your head before throwing it behind you. he kneels in front of you when you take your bra off as well, hands roaming your body as he attached his lips to yours. the softness from before was slowly going away– him starting to roughly grip your breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers and smirking against your lips when you moan into him.

“tell me, red.” he spoke as he pulled away from your lips– still keeping his hands cupped to your breasts. “tell me how much you’ve been craving for me to touch you again.”

you gasp when his lips suddenly attach to your nipple, sucking harshly before biting down hard enough to have you jerk in his hold. “so bad, weno. i had to keep myself b-busy constantly or my mind would drift to you. sleep was a nightmare.”

“my poor girl.” he teased, teeth nipping at your skin– tongue running over the marks. “it’s okay though. i’ll take care of you, red.”

“please.” you almost moan out when his hands unbutton your shorts. his mouth leaves yours before he pushes you back flat on the bed, motioning for you to lift your hips. he pulls them down, leaving you exposed for him– waiting as he ran his hands along your thighs.

“look how pretty you are waiting for me.” his voice rough as he pressed kisses to your thighs, biting down and causing you to yelp when you whine at his words. “you’re practically dripping onto the bed, red. you’re that desperate for me?”

you nod your head. “yes.”

“say please.”

“please.” you beg him.

“please what?” you nearly groan out when his fingers run along your soaked slit before pulling away. his fingers glistened with your arousal before he stuck them in his mouth, shamelessly cleaning you off of him– eyes closing in pleasure.

“please touch me.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, he latched to you like a starving man. the loudest moan left your lips at the action, back arching as his tongue flicks your clit. he hums at the sound causing a whimper to leave your lips at the sensation. your hands gripped the sheets as you try to ground yourself as you became overwhelmed with pleasure.

his tongue pushed inside of you, starting out slow before speeding up. a broken moan left you when you felt his piercing against your walls. you could tell he was loving the sounds, loving unraveling you by the tightening of his hands on your thighs– pulling you closer to his mouth. his hands held you open when you tried to close your legs when he curled his tongue. he heard your broken sounds, smirking when one of them sounded like ‘more.’

he curled his tongue one last time before licking a long strip up your core. one of his hands left your thighs, running down to your soaked core. he slid his fingers through your slick before thrusting two fingers inside of you, watching you as you sharply cry out in pleasure. his eyes watched you as he moved his fingers, curling them just right– your back arching at the feeling. his gaze stayed on you while his lips circled your clit, flicking and sucking at the bud.

“weno-” you cry out as his mouth and hand worked together as he brought you closer to your high. you could feel him smirk at every sound or movement you made, like watching you brought him as much pleasure as he was giving you. he had no intentions on stopping until you were clenching around his fingers.

every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. your back arched when his fingers curled again. “w-weno. can i please- fuck?”

“can you please what, red?” he teased, knowing exactly what you wanted. he could tell by your trembling thighs and how tightly you were clenching around his fingers that you were close. “do you want to come?”

all you could do is nod your head, way to lost in pleasure. you feel him chuckle against your skin as he kisses along your thigh. “i can feel you shaking, red. just give into me. let me know how good i make you feel.”

that was all you needed to fall over the edge. you moan out his name, not weno this time, but his actual name. he didn’t know how bad he needed to hear you moan his name until it was falling from your lips. he groaned, helping you down from your high before climbing on top of you, capturing your lips. you could feel his erection through his jeans, twitching when you groan out his name again.

your hands trail down his torso, pulling at the edge of his shirt and helping him take it off. you do the same to his bottoms before you reach from him– trying to return the favor when he stops you. “not so fast, red. no moving until i’m inside of you.”

“but-”

“no buts, baby.” he stops you, eyes dark with need. you try again, but this time he grabs your hand– intertwining your fingers. “be good, or i’ll make you beg for it.”

but he doesn’t because a second later he’s sliding into you with one smooth thrust. his hips press against yours, lips kissing your face as you feel all of the air leave your lungs at the feeling of him inside of you. you choke out a gasp, feeling overwhelmed with the feeling of him– not thinking you would ever feel it again.

“there she is.” he coos, biting the lobe of your ear as he starts to move. “there’s my girl. so tight and perfect for me.”

you cling to him as his thrusts start going deeper as he speeds up– groaning against your skin like he’s been wanting this just as much as you have. like he’s stayed up all night, going over that night over and over until you pass out from exhaustion. “weno- mhm”

“that’s it.” his lips press against yours as he felt the stinging of your nails digging into his skin. “are you finally letting go for me, red?”

you nod, or at least you think you do. it felt like a blur. that could also be from the tears wheeling in your eyes. him moving inside of you like he owns every part of you– even the parts you tried so hard to guard from him. all of your reserve was slipping away with every thrust of his hips.

“do you feel that?” he questions, feeling the exact same thing you do. “that’s real. we are real. you don’t get to run anymore.”

you swallow your sob as you pull him down to your lips. the man above you was the only thing holding you together at this point, and you felt like he knew it by how tightly his arms were holding you. he groans against your lips when you clench around him– coming completely unraveled. “nicholas.”

“i know, my girl.” he whispers, feeling the same as you. “come on. give it to me again. i know you can.”

his hips meet yours one last time, and you feel him coat your walls at the same time that you come undone. you cling to him tightly as he helps the two of you come down from your highs, breathing heavy when he finally stills. his weight not heavy but grounding on top of you as he rests his head on yours. you felt one of the tears that you had been holding hit your cheek. nicholas of course noticing before wiping it away.

“hey now.” he murmurs softly as a couple more tears fall. “don’t cry, red. we’re okay. you’re okay.”

you could hear the underlining fear in his voice– scared that he pushed you too hard. maybe even scared you were going to leave again. “we’re okay.”

“i didn’t push too hard, did i?” you shake your head at his question.

“no. it- it was perfect.”

“good. because if you try to leave me again, i’m chaining myself to you.” you laugh at his threat, feeling as he lets out a breath of relief at the sound. like he knows that you aren’t running. you weren’t going to push him away again. “all seriousness. you can’t leave me after this like some sort of fucked up fairy tale.”

your hands run through his hair, something you’ve found he likes. “i’m not going anywhere this time.”

“damn right you’re not.” he kisses the tip of your nose before moving away from you. he got you clean and comfortable before he got into bed behind you, holding you tightly– pressing light kisses to your neck as the two of you let sleep take over. “goodnight, red.”

“goodnight weno.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

three months later

“you move one more fucking time, and i’m tattooing dumbass on you.”

“your threats turn me on, baby.”

you roll your eyes, readjusting your legs where you were straddling nicholas. he has been begging you for the last two months to teach you how to tattoo, so you could tattoo him. it took forever for you to say yes. you practiced for many hours on practice skins before you even thought about inking him– with him teaching you every step of the way. so here you were, sitting on his lap in one of the private rooms while tattooing a design the two of you came up with together.

“you’re lucky i like you.” you grumble as the buzzing of the tattoo starts up again as you continue your piece. his hands were gentle, trying not to distract you as the rested on your hips.

“it’s a good thing you do because you’re stuck with me.” you glance up at him to see him smiling down at you– no smirk or teasing in sight. and since you had the machine away from his skin, he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “and i’m not going anywhere.”

after three months of him being by your side, not only saying that but proving it multiple times a day, you believed him. “i know.”

“i’m proud of you, red.” you keep your focus on the tattoo, but preen at his praise.

“i don’t want to stroke your impossible ego, but i wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you. you’re very stubborn.”

he laughs at your words. “you started out cute. why did you ruin it?”

“i told you. i can’t let this ego get any bigger.”

you finish up the tattoo, cleaning it up like he taught you before climbing off of his lap. he looked at it in the mirror before turning to you. “you did so good. though i don’t expect anything less from my girl.”

he pulls you into his arms, leaning down before stealing a kiss. you pull him closer to you, not letting him pull away from you just yet. his arms wrapped around you, tucking you into his chest where you felt like you were meant to be. when you pulled away, you kissed the new tattoo– a mark on him caused by you, just like he marked you.

you didn’t realize what life could feel when you didn’t run. you don’t know why you didn’t stop sooner, but a part of you is glad you didn’t. because you may not have the man who was holding you like you were his whole world. “i didn’t believe you could make me feel like this.”

“like what?”

“safe. secure.” you answer before looking up and meeting his gaze. “and so stupidly in love with you.”

you feel him still for a beat, like he was trying to make sure you actually said that, and it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. once he realizes you said that, he grins larger than you’ve ever seen as he brings his lips to yours, cupping your cheeks as he did so. “i love you too”

he pulls you back into him, and as his lips perfectly mold with yours, you realize something. you didn’t just stop running. you didn’t just stay. you chose him. and you weren't going anywhere unless he was by your side.

[bangficsx]

TWISTED TIMES

pair : jk x reader

genre : age gap, uni student, corporate girlie, yearning, apprehensions, smut, tender love, reunion.

note : I can't get these descriptions right so I'll leave it. Just go and read if you guys want. You can also find more of my works on wattpad.

CHAPTER 1

I didn't know I would end up seeing him again so soon. To be honest I didn't think I would ever get to meet him again in this life. I thought if I ever see him again it would be years and years from now.

But there he is, standing just a few metres away from me. We're shamelessly, dangerously staring at each other. His lips might be curved into a smile but his eyes tell a different story. I don't want to see it but I can't help myself from noticing it. After all, I knew him so well like the back of my hand.

"Hey," Miji startles me when she talks standing behind me.

"Oh my god, Hi, congratulations babe. I'm so happy for you guys." I hug her quickly and she reciprocates.

"How have you been? I've literally been so busy these past few months planning the wedding and buying a new house and setting it up and trying to get healthier I've lost touch with so many friends. I'm so glad you came. Jungkook's already busy with the guys huh? Look at him, all grown up." Miji says and I keep smiling.

She walks away after telling me to enjoy myself while I keep looking at Jungkook. He's gotten so much hotter in just a year. His sleeve tattoo is complete when I last saw him he only had a few of them. He has a second piercing on his lip. And he's so much more bulkier now.

Hoseok walks up to him and talks to him but he stays distracted and keeps glancing at me. Hoseok gets frustrated and turns around to see what has him so engaged. He smiles at me when he finds me being the centre of Jungkook's attention.

"Woah, haven't you two had enough of each other in two years?" He teases Jungkook.

I panic internally. This means Hoseok thinks we're still together. I have been living very quietly this past year by which I mean I ended up taking a fully remote position and working from my family's old countryside house.

It was such a nice escape after hustling everyday and partying every weekend for god knows how many years. At some point I realised that why do I do these things if they don't really add any value to my life. I was just wasting away my life while feeling empty inside and trying to just fit in.

Working remotely gave me so much more time. Living in the countryside meant a slower life and healthier habits. There wasn't much I could impulsively spend on. Staying close to nature recharged my soul. I was so filled with creative inspiration that I could work better too. And work didn't feel like a burden on most days. It was just a part of my day and I did so much more except working.

If he has changed, I think I have changed too. Maybe not as much as him. But I believe I'm a different person from the last time I saw him.

I met Jungkook for the first time when he shifted to my apartment floor in his senior year of college. I didn't even know he existed while he used to live just a few floors above me for two years.

But after a very exhausting long shift at work, when I wanted to reach home as soon as possible, when every muscle of my body was aching, and my stomach was grumbling, and my body was begging for rest.

Just when the elevator was about to go up, he came in carrying a stack of boxes blocking my view of his face. He tried to enter but one box fell down. Like a polite human being, I bent down and picked it up. I noticed another box was about to fall down so I took it from him.

And before I knew it I was helping him bring boxes from his old apartment while he told me about why he had to move. He thanked me a thousand times for helping him out.

Then he asked if I wanted to have some homemade rice cakes and before I could deny he had already packed a box for me. And it smelled so good that I couldn't even try to deny it.

And now that I had taken something from him. Like any other polite person I had to give back something to him. So when I made dinner that night and there was some extra I packed them in his box and went over to his place.

I rang the doorbell and waited for him to open. After almost a minute had passed by, he came, shirtless. I still remember how quickly my heartbeat went up, I got goosebumps, I know I would be exaggerating but I almost fainted.

Just imagine this absolutely gorgeous, huge man coming out shirtless in front of you while his body is still covered with water droplets here and there, his hair is slick and wet. And he's staring right at you.

"What brought you here at 10pm? I was scared to death about what went wrong." He sighed in relief as he watched me stand dumbfounded with the box filled with food in my hand.

"I just came to give this," I said slowly. I was panicking, feeling so embarrassed. When I looked up, he just smiled.

"You didn't have to do that. It could've waited till tomorrow." He said. He noticed me feeling uncomfortable with his partial nakedness.

"Sorry, I had to come out mid shower to open the door." He scratched behind his ear getting flustered.

"It's okay. I have to leave now. I really need to sleep." I said nervously and quickly turned around to walk away.

“It's too late, I can't hold you for too long. Do come over whenever you feel like.” He says because he wanted to be friends with his neighbour.

I walked back to my apartment, all I could see in front of my eyes was his naked chest, the way his pants were hanging low on his waist in just the right manner, how his biceps were flexing when he raised his arms and his broad chest and shoulders. Soon I came to my senses and realisation led to guilt about what I was even doing by entertaining such thoughts about a guy who was way younger than me.

He definitely didn't have such intentions towards me. He just saw me as the older neighbour lady. He might definitely not be thinking that I'm single at this age.

Still he was a feast to the eyes. If only I could get just one taste. But I know I'll never be able to afford that.

It wasn't that way for Jungkook at all. He hadn't even realised that I was older. He was attracted to me even before I knew he existed. He had seen me around. And he used to tell me how he really liked how I carried myself, how I talked, how smart I was. His words not mine. Things he had whispered to me when we used to lay in the same bed after having explored every inch of our bodies.

He had always wanted to get to know me. The nature of my work, my ideas, my experiences. He admired me at first then started feeling attracted to me.

He used to feel I was something he could never have. He used to think he was not enough to ever desire me. He saw me as this rich, mature, clever woman. Someone he could never have.

And now he stands there unrecognizable but somehow he still feels like My Jungkook. The one who loved me, who made me feel so seen.

I overheard him talk about how he is a consultant in a big 4 firm now. He has already travelled to four different countries in just six months. He is based in Korea. He got lucky to get a position here.

I almost tear up thinking about how he has achieved his dreams. I know how he worked for all of this. I saw him work on building his profile and studying for his entrance tests to get into a good business school. And I think he actually did.

I am so proud of him. It fills me with so much joy to watch this man he has grown to be. His suit probably costs more than my rent. He always wanted all of this. Nice cufflinks, watches, just things which tell people how hard he works.

I know he doesn't want to just show off. He's a simple guy at heart. It's just hard work that he's addicted to, hard work that he flexes. It's his hard earned money.

He wasn't born with a silver spoon. His parents barely managed to send him to school and he worked so many jobs and maintained a good GPA to get scholarships. I was always wondering how he never got burnt out.

Slowly, we walk closer towards each other, one step at a time. It's just us, nobody else can hear us. He smiles while our eyes are locked.

“Hey,” he whispers.

I look down, smile slightly. I just can't bring myself to smile at him. It's bringing back all those memories. All my doubts, all my fears, all my insecurities.

I can't help myself, can't stop myself from crying out. I quickly run before anyone sees me. He follows behind soon after.

It was a resort in Jeju where Hoseok and Miji were hosting their wedding. The wedding is supposed to take place tomorrow and today guests are just coming in and can enjoy themselves and relax with the various available amenities or just in the lap of nature.

I sit on a bench in the garden. Jungkook watches me from a distance. I know he feels awkward to have to comfort me. So he maintains his distance. I respect it too.

“Actually I think Hoseok and Miji have the idea that we're… still together,” He speaks hesitantly. Pauses.

“So they gave us one bedroom.” He adds.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“I thought you may have told Hoseok.” I tell him. He denies the idea by shaking his head.

“We can't tell them on their wedding. It'll break their hearts.” I whisper. He agrees.

“It's okay. I just wanted to inform you before you get shocked. Let's pretend we're together for their sake. I'll take the couch.” He says as if it's so easy to pretend you love your ex. Easier said than done.

But I guess if you still have an ember of feelings for your ex, it shouldn't be that hard right?

[cumikering]

Teasing Keegan

3k | smut, praise, dude doesn’t shut up Two can play that game, but how much can you take?

You’d been seeing Keegan for a while now.

While the kisses were plenty, you’d never done anything more despite the simmer under the surface. Waiting and hoping weren’t an issue to him though, as he enjoyed the soothing touches and the small smiles you shared, knowing this wasn’t just physical.

He was happy to let you initiate, until you started teasing him, that was.

The week before, with a shy little smile, you’d asked to touch his bare stomach. He slid your hand under his shirt and couldn’t help the shudder from the contact he’d been fantasising about. You straddled and kissed him breathless before walking away, leaving him terribly hard and aching for you. He could only laugh to himself. He didn’t mind the wait, but two could play that game.

That Saturday morning, you’d made pancakes together before going back to bed to lounge around, basking in the bright glow of the sun. You’d asked how many push-ups he could do. Well, there was only one way to find out, right?

On the bed, he climbed over you and did as many push-ups he could do while telling you to count. It was not ideal, really. He couldn’t dip low enough and the mattress made it so much harder to push, but oh, it was all worth it. You tripped over your words, not knowing where to look when he maintained eye contact as he groaned and panted on top of you.

He wasn’t faking it - he was losing his breath and breaking a sweat. Sure, he didn’t have to be so vocal (he wouldn’t be caught dead doing that in front of anyone else), but with you? He’d seen the way you shivered when he whispered in your ear. With you laying so pretty under him as he felt every inch of you, how could he pass up on the chance of re-enacting his late-night fantasies?

Want me to go faster, princess?

Doing so good for me, just like that

You feel so good, you know that?

A victorious smile spread on his lips when you said you’d lost count of how many reps he did. He excused himself to the bathroom for a shower before his want for you took shape in his sweatpants.

Warm water ran down his body, letting his muscles relax. There was something about the way you looked at him, with your stuttered breath and parted lips that drove him insane. Like you wanted him just as much. Recalling it only made him harden faster.

It was your place, and you were out there - it wasn’t right. He wasn’t some degenerate who couldn’t control himself, but you wouldn’t know, would you? A little touch wouldn’t hurt.

His head dipped, a hand resting against the wall as the other fisted his cock. He groaned, eyes shut. He’d been thinking about you so much, your pretty smile and cute laughter. Now having seen what you looked like under him? It wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks.

Did you like to take what you were given, or did you prefer to take charge and get on top? Were you shy, or would you make your neighbours know who was making you feel good? Would you make eye-contact when you got on your knees and choked on his length? How fucking gorgeous would you be, and fuck- he wasn’t going to last.

He bit back a moan when he came all over his hand to the thought of you. His eyes fluttered open, watching the water wash his release away. He cursed under his breath, his cheeks hot, but there was no time to be ashamed. He’d spent too long in the bathroom.

When he stepped back into the bedroom after his shower, you bellowed, “SERGEANT RUSS.”

He froze. Fuck. You knew. How embarrassing. You were going to call him out.

You strode across the room and backing him up. “You need to kiss me, right now.”

He laughed, a mix of relief and amusement. “Don’t mind if I do.” He spun you by the waist and pressed you against the door before leaning in.

You fisted his shirt, mumbling into his lips, “You don’t get to tease me.”

“Why, can’t take it?”

You didn��t answer, and he dove back in with a mischievous smile.

“Bit unfair, isn’t it?” he said between kisses. “You got me so worked up for you last time.”

He placed a leg between yours – an invitation, a dare. Despite the singular inch between you, he could feel your heat. Your hands slipped under his shirt, nails dragging across his generous happy trail, sending his abdomen twitching from your touch. You pulled him to you, pressing his thigh against your clothed pussy with a soft hum.

“What took you so long in the bathroom?” you asked, eyes shut as your head tipped back.

“Was busy thinking about you,” he said lowly, flexing his thigh as you continued to roll your hips, watching the pleasure spread on your face. There was no point in being shy now. “About touching you, tasting you. How good you’d feel clenching down on me when I’m inside you.”

Your breathing quickened.

“You make me crazy, teasing me like that. Do you like knowing I fuck my hand wishing it was you afterwards?” He kissed up your neck and whispered in your ear, “Tell me, does it make you touch yourself too?”

Your fingers slipped under his waistband.

“Because I love thinking of you doing that, love imagining the things I’d do to you. But no,” he let out a low chuckle. “You like to tease and leave me when I’m fucking leaking for you.”

His length hardened against your stomach. Under your shirt, his hand trailed up your waist, thumb rubbing the side of your breast.

“Do I have to beg? So you’d touch me?”

Your hand dipped lower, palming his erection. The way you stroked him over his underwear made his breath stutter. Was he supposed to be ashamed about humping your hand with such desperation?

“Look what you did,” he hissed.

You gasped when he lifted and pinned you against the wall in a swift motion. You wrapped your legs around his waist while his greedy hands kneaded your ass.

“Always doing this to me,” he muttered into your neck as he rutted against your pussy.

He could tell you loved the friction from the way your eyes fluttered, little moans tumbling out of your parted lips. It only made him want to kiss you more.

You fisted his shirt, muttering against his lips, “Want you in my mouth, Keegan.”

He’s knees almost gave out.

You dropped to your knees, pulling his pants down to reveal his aching cock. You paused before taking him in a tentative hand, lips wrapping around his tip. With a hum, your hot, wet tongue pressed against the underside of his head. He groaned, forearms against the wall as he held himself up. He’d wanted this for too long.

With your hands on his muscled thighs, you slid down his cock, soaking him in your spit. You could only go a little more than halfway before his tip bumped against your throat. Any attempt you made to push farther only made you choke.

“’s okay.” He patted your hair. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

You licked along his length, tongue swirling around his leaking tip before planting kisses down his balls. He didn’t mean to jerk your hair when you gave him kitten licks that sent a zap down his spine.

“Can I taste you, princess?” he panted, caressing your jaw. “Need you on my tongue.”

Only then you glanced up at him, the corners of your pretty eyes wet. Looking at you from up there, the way your perfect lips wrapped tight around him, sliding up and down his thick cock like you wanted to please him so bad- It made his heart skip a beat.

He pulled you to your feet, moaning into your mouth as you fisted his shirt. You barely pulled back before taking it off him. He led you to the bed, laying you on your back before helping you undress. He savoured the way each articled slid off you – you were his favourite present.

He spread your legs, trailing kisses on your inner thigh only to notice the dark patch on your underwear. With a small chuckle, he pressed his thumb on your clit, letting the cloth soak up your juices, making your hips stir. When he slid the fabric down your thighs, he did not expect the string that clung to it and fell onto the sheets. You had no idea what the sight was doing to him.

“Fuck, when did you get this wet?”

His gaze flicked to you, please by how you chewed on your lip impatiently. You were drenched, glistening in the light. He brushed two fingers over your swollen clit before landing a little tap, making you shudder. He lapped at your entrance up before flicking your bud.

“You taste so good.” A kiss on your clit. “So much better than I imagined.” Another kiss before he gave it a gentle suck, making a wet popping sound when he pulled away. “Can I make you come, please?”

You could only moan as your hips bucked.

His tongue swirled around you, finger circling your sopping hole, coating himself with your wetness before pushing it in. Your breath hitched when he curled his finger up, rubbing that spot in you that made you arc your back.

“You like that?” He couldn’t hide the smirk in his voice, finger not missing a beat. “I can tell.”

He flicked and sucked; arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you from squirming away. You were close, weren’t you? You grabbed his hair, filling the room with your lovely breathless moans. When he hit the perfect spot, you’d thrust up into his face making his cock twitch in his pants. It only delighted him he could play you like this, like the most beautiful sounding instrument.

“Can’t wait to be in you, princess. Fuck, I’m so hard for you.”

You pulled his hair harder when he slipped another finger in you. You were dripping down his palm, pulsing and squelching for him with each thrust.

“You feel that? You’re gonna come for me?”

“Yes, yes. You’re going to make me come, Keegan.”

“Want to hear you.”

His lips sealed around your clit again, sucking gently as you fell apart around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook as you moaned his name, but he held you down with ease. He continued flicking with his tongue, languidly now, as your orgasm subsided. When you pushed his shoulder away, he shifted his attention to your drenched hole, slurping and cleaning you up, his eyes trained on you. He couldn’t help smiling at the way you covered your face, unable to hide that giddy smile. Did you have any idea how bad he wanted you?

He climbed over you, kissing your cheek. “You sound so good.”

He wasn’t shy about sucking his fingers clean, or making you watch - he loved the way you taste. You pulled him in for a chaste kiss as you palmed him, still painfully hard for you.

“Can I have you now?” you asked against his lips. “Want you so bad.”

He cupped your breast, rubbing a thumb over your nipple, still pebbled from your high. He took his sweet time kissing down your body, memorising every curve and the feel of your skin against his lips. He couldn’t help sucking and nibbling on your hips and thighs, making you giggle. You couldn’t get any prettier.

He lifted your hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed before kneeling down on the floor. He ran a hand from your thigh to your ankle, hooking your leg around him. The way you looked at him, with half-lidded eyes and your lip between your teeth, made his cock twitch.

He slid his length between your soaking lips, glazing himself with your desire. With each thrust, his tip notched at your clit making you hum.

“Say it again. Do you want this?”

“Fuck me, Keegan.” Your fingers ran along his forearm. “Can’t wait anymore.”

He squeezed his cock with a groan. Oh, you were the death of him. Your hips bucked when he tapped your clit with his tip before he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Ready?”

You nodded and he pushed his tip in making you both moan. He paused at the sensation, memorising the expression on your face. The way you shut your eyes, head tilted back with your lips parted. It was all better than what he’d always imagined.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He caressed your thigh, pushing another inch.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his icy blues, gripping his thick biceps. He pulled you in by your hips, sheathing himself in your wet pussy. When he bottomed out, his head dipped with a grunt as a tingle ran down his back.

When he recovered, he started thrusting, a little at a time to get you used to him. Not like you needed it, you were drowning him. He couldn’t stop watching where you were connected, how your pussy stretched tight around him, how his cock glinted with your juices each time he pulled back, how your slippery clit begged for attention.

You gasped when he thrusted faster, nails digging into his skin as your gorgeous tits bounced with each snap. He grabbed your ass, lifting you up to hit that spot in you.

“Why don’t you play with your clit for me, hm?”

Your hips bucked when two fingers rubbed circles on your clit. He felt the delicious clench.

He gave a taunting chuckle, picking up his pace. “Feels good, huh?”

Your eyes fluttered as you nodded.

“God, look how much you love it. Squeezing me like that, making a mess for me.”

 The way you kept your gazes lock was doing things to him. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Let me taste you,” he panted.

You slipped your slick fingers in his open mouth. He closed his eyes as he hummed, tongue swirling around them. You moaned louder, tightening around him. Was this how much you wanted him?

“You close, baby?”

“You feel so good, Keegan, so deep,” you said breathlessly, hand running up his clenched abdomen.

“Say my name when you come. Want to know who’s making you feel good.” He rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb, grip tightening on your hip. “Fuck, you’re going to look so pretty coming on my cock.”

You threw your head back, moaning his name as you tensed with the waves of your orgasm. His thrusting slowed as you rode out your high, your fingers interlaced with his. You gave him a smile, body still tingling as you rubbed the imprints of your nails on his bicep.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He kissed your hand. “Can’t believe I get to do that.”

The way you panted his name and followed his directions almost made him feel like you were his, and not only for the moment. He climbed over you, pulling you off the edge of the bed. His lips crashed against yours, tongue swiping over your lower lip as he pushed your knees up. When your tongue swirled against his, he slipped back in, the angle allowing him to go deeper now with you spread open like that.

His head dropped to your shoulder with a grunt, his breath searing your skin. Your shivered when he kissed and sucked your neck before dragging his hot, wet tongue along the column of your throat. His breath stuttered when your fingers trailed down his spine, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him.

“Want you to come for me, Keegan.”

Look how you kept stealing his breath. His groans turned heavier, louder, hotter next to your ear. The snap of his hips was growing more erratic by the second as he twitched in your hole - still so wet and fucking perfect for him. He let out a needy moan before biting down on your shoulder.

“Ah- I’m close-” You felt too good it sent his head spinning. “Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

Your soft hand wrapped around him, stroking as he kissed you hard. He whined pathetically into your mouth when he spilt over your stomach, twitching in your grip. All the sweet torture he’d endured was worth it for this exact moment.

When his orgasm faded, he pulled back to discover the mess he made on you with a little chuckle. Your fingers dragged across his chest, now ruddy and slick from the pleasure. By the smile you wore, he must have had a blush too, but that was probably from the way you made his stomach flip.

He insisted you stayed in bed while he grabbed a towel to clean you up with before he laid on his side facing you, arm over your bare middle. You smiled at him with soft eyes, radiant with a little sweat on your forehead, hair tousled in the most beautiful way. His heart raced. Sure, he’d thought of this so many times, but being there with you, like this, still felt surreal. He couldn’t believe you wanted him too.

“Was I alright?”

“So much more than that.” You cupped his face, gazing into his icy blues.

“Sorry again.” With a thumb, he swiped the tender spot on your shoulder and kissed it.

“It’s okay, really, but maybe I should be on top and do that too next time.”

He leaned in, smiling against your lips. “If you give me half an hour, we can make that happen.”

This is an expansion from this scene from Biker Keegan series Masterlist

[bearbackyard]

Wild Card - Bobby x Reader | Chapter 7: Take Care

I was gonna keep going but decided to save the date for the next chapter :3 sorry this took FOREVERRRRRR i had work, dog sitting, and i just interviewed for an internship in my field today! super excited. hope you guys enjoy!!!

how ooc can you get for a character with 10 minutes of screen time?

Summary:

Music, sound, it was your everything.

So the day you found your baby cousins notebook was the day you knew she’d be something golden.

or

Zoey's older cousin, her main supporter throughout her teen years, ends up befriending and falling for her manager.

Word count: 3620 here for ao3 link! part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

“Ooh, that sounds good.” 

You, Bobby, and the girls decided to go out to a local tea shop. You’d gotten two days off and after the next performance, you’ll have another day off followed by a 12 hour flight. Yay. Right now, you were scanning the small menu. Zoey had just read off one of the deserts to Rumi while Mira was fanning herself. It was horrendously hot today and it was only slightly cooler inside the small shop. Your last day off, you made sure to get Rumi a bunch of light, long sleeve, non-see through cover-ups. It made you a little concerned, but you didn’t push on why she always covered up and no way in the world would you let her go out in this heat in a sweater. 

Mira, unlike Rumi, had been adamant about leaving her hand down. You warned her how much more humid it would be compared to the last few places you were at. Her response? She’s survived Seoul heat with the same hairstyle all her life and waved you off. She didn’t account for the lack of air conditioning in all of the shops. 

Mira clumped her hair together as much as she could and raised it away from her neck. “It is so unnecessarily hot today.” She rested her forehead on the table, hoping to cool off at least a little. Her hair ties were way too small to put up all of her hair. Luckily, you had an assortment stuffed away in your bag. 

“Mira, honey, here.” You fished out a large scrunchie from your bag and handed it to her. “Put your hair up before you die of heat stroke please.” She took the hair tie like it was salvation, untying her two little ponytails so she could put all her hair together properly. Through sheer will and spite, she managed to put all of it up in a bun and slumped backwards with a small “thank you.” 

It was awfully surprising that your little table hadn’t been swarmed by fans. The girls had mentioned something about having "disguises" but it was far too hot for them. There were occasional glances, whispers, and one person tried to sneak a photo, but it wasn’t as many people as you thought. Maybe it was because the shop wasn’t busy, or the heat made people not even care, or maybe you guys somehow managed to wind up in that 1% area where people hardly knew of the girls. 

“You girls know what you want? Y/n and I will go order.” Bobby had been watching the little moment between you and Mira. Yeah, it wasn’t much, hell, it was hardly even a moment, but it warmed his heart. Those were his girls and you were his… well, he couldn’t say yet, but knowing you cared for them so much warmed his heart. 

Rumi and Zoey listed off their order. Mira hardly looked at the menu. “Whatever Zoey gets as long as it's cold.” You nodded with a small laugh and rose from your seat. You and Bobby made your way to the counter and put the order in.

Bobby’s phone chimed and he barely got to see the notification. It wasn’t anything important, you leaned over to get a quick glimpse of it and it didn’t have his special important business person chime (just another one of the basic ringtones. His real special ringtones were for you and the girls, clips of his favorite songs that suited each of you and silly noises for your text notifications). You slyly pushed his phone down. “Today's our day off.” Keeping his attention on you, you sneakily took the phone from him before replacing it with your own hand and running your thumb over the top.

“But what if-” Bobby began to argue.

“You need a break.” You leaned a little closer to him. “Just for a couple of hours.” 

How could he say no to you? Especially when your voice was low like that, whispering so only he could hear. It made a shiver go down his spine, his heart beating a little harder. You knew full well what you could do to him now and you made it your weapon. It wasn’t a bad thing. You made sure he took enough breaks rather than work himself all day long and stress himself out watching the sound charts all day. 

“Okay…” He muttered, letting himself physically relax. It was only a few seconds before they called your name and you took the drinks back to your table in the corner. Mira held her drink in her hands, letting the cold from the drink seep into her hands. 

“Th-” Rumi had to clear her throat. “Thank you.“

“You okay Rumi?” Bobby looked at her worried. A bug had gone around some of the crew, the cosmetics team were hit the hardest. 

Rumi took a sip of her drink. “I’m okay, Bobby. I just needed to clear my throat. Allergies, if anything.”

She looked flushed and she kept trying to hide her sniffling. “Are you sure? You look really flushed.”

“I’m fine, I swear.” She waved you off.

That was a few hours ago. She was not fine.  

Rumi only got worse as the day went on which made you put her on bed rest. 

“But we have to run through the choreo for-” 

“Rumi, I will chain you down to this bed.” You said blankly before handing her a dose of medicine. “Take this and rest. Bobby’s on his way back.” As you walked out of the room, you heard Zoey sneeze. It was just once, but after taking care of her for years you knew it was her “I’m going to combust in 13 seconds. Care for me like a dying Victorian child.” Zoey was also a very cuddly sick person which means whenever she got sick, you got sick. Accepting your fate, you messaged Bobby to pick up extra supplies.

Since their room was the biggest, there was a little living room in it. When you walked in, Mira was laying down on the couch with her hair freshly braided by Zoey. Rather than overheating, she was now shivering and it makes you take a deep breath. Eyes closed, calming yourself and preparing. You weren’t upset, no, of course not. Well, a little, but not at the girls. Couldn’t the makeup crew wear a mask? Especially during such a huge tour as this? You exhaled and shook your head as you walked to the couch and rested your hand on Mira’s arm.

“Mira, let's get you to bed. You too, Hummingbird.” The girls’ hotel room was sort of an odd fixture. It had a little kitchenette and a living room and then two separate rooms with their own bathroom, each with two beds. Rumi slept on her own, the second bed adopting the role of a table with a multitude of things tossed on top of it, while Zoey and Mira shared a room. You helped Mira up and off the couch, leading both her and Zoey to their beds. Too weak to fight, the pink haired girl allowed you to tuck her in along with Zoey. You left the room to get a couple of water bottles and each gave them a dose of the cold medicine. 

“Bobby will be back soon, alright girls? We’ll come check in on you.” Mira muttered a thanks while you stared at your cousin. “Zoey, take your medicine.” 

Pouting and sniffling like a baby seal, she whined at you. “But I hate pills. You know that.”

“I also know that they work. Take them,” you pushed her water closer to her. “And then rest. I’m not leaving until you do.” With a huff, she complies before dramatically dropping her head on her pillow and making gagging noises. With a laugh and a shake of your head, you exited the room and took a seat on the couch. You leaned your head on the back of the couch as you closed your eyes for just a minute. 

Your phone buzzed however long later. It was Bobby letting you know he was making his way up to the room. You got up, stretched, and then made your way to the door. One foot keeping the door propped open, you waited for Bobby outside of the room. He rounded the corner and smiled as your eyes met. 

“How are they?” He asked as you took one of the bags from him and let him in the room. 

“Sleeping, I hope. Zoey gets bad fever dreams so it's only a matter of time before she wakes back up.” You glanced at her room with a worried expression. When she was younger, you’d try and help take care of her when she was sick. Whenever her parents went to work, you would stop by and make sure she rested properly. Most of the time, she’d get these strange  fever dreams, nightmares, that she could never properly describe to you. They were always the same too. Something about hair, another with weird cut out dolls, and something about the number 38? Whatever it was, it freaked her out badly. She had even ran from her bed and tried escaping the house from the bathroom (which had a very, very small window. Not Zoey size). 

Bobby rested his hand over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. “She’ll be okay.” 

“I know, but what if-“

“You need a break.” He teased, leaning closer and nudging your shoulder with his as he smiled. “Just a couple of hours.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Okay, okay. I get it.” Your gaze turned to the counter you were leaning on. “Needed to shoot my words right back at me, huh?”

Smiling, Bobby squeezed your hand again before motioning over to the TV. “Come on, let's just watch something. Take your mind off of our sickly popstar children.” You had to bite your lip from a louder laugh coming out, not wanting to wake the girls. He led you to the couch and put some cheesy romcom on. 

His arm around you, you leaned on his shoulders as he held you close. You could smell the mixture of his cologne and the fabric softener he used. Letting yourself melt into Bobby’s warmth, you let the stress of the day run off you. The movie was just loud enough to barely hear and all the lights but the TV were off.

At some point in the middle of the movie, after you let out a yawn, Bobby spoke up again. “Have you ever thought about having kids?” His expression was neutral, gaze locked on the tv as he rubbed your back. 

“Kids?” You tilted your head to look up at him. He looked back at you with a small smile. 

“Yeah.” 

You giggled. “Asking about kids before taking me out first is a choice.” 

“We sleep together.”

“And?”

“And,” He pressed his forehead against yours. “It’s just a question. How you care for the girls… you’d make a good mom.” Bobby whispered the last part to you which sent a shiver down your spine. 

You stared into his eyes before replying again, “I don’t know.” Your gaze turned to the TV, though you weren’t paying attention at all. “I never really thought about it. Zoey, I mean, we’re more like sisters, but… I don’t know. Never had anyone else to think about having a family with.”

Bobby hummed in response. “I’ve always wanted kids, but I haven’t thought about it in awhile. The way everything worked out.”

“You mean with your mom?” Your head tilted back up to look at him again.

“Yeah. And then after she got better, I had to do military service and when I got back, I think there was only a 2 month gap before I started my internship and then found the girls.” His hand moved to rub your arm. “Always wanted a family though.”

“I’ve seen how you are with the girls.” You ran the tips of your fingers over his arm. “You’d make an amazing dad. Might have to work on how much you let them get away with first.” You teased.

“Hey, I don’t let them get away with… a lot!” 

“Mhm, sureee.” You both laughed after failing to keep straight faces.

There was a beat in silence, both of you turned towards the TV despite not actually watching it. 

“We could, you know…” Bobby began. 

“Hm?”

“Go out. Just us two. First date, next time we get the chance.” You felt your face warm as you instinctively cuddled in closer. 

“I’d love that.”

-

You were sick. Zoey had been, well, Zoey. Sick, weeping, pathetic Zoey. The pinnacle of a sopping wet kitten that needed cuddles to get better. And of course, there was a show tonight. 

The girls were all better. Hell, with how you and Bobby watched over them last night, they were feeling the best they had been since they were kids. But you? You were even more stubborn than Rumi. Somehow managing to hide your symptoms from Bobby, you were now behind the soundboard dying. Yeah, you were dying. Shivering, flushed, mask on to hide your runny nose. 

You looked like shit.

“I’m going to tell Bobby.”

“Anahi, I will sneeze on you if you tell him before the show is over.”  You stared the light technician down because she knew full well that you would, in fact, sneeze on her if she tried, 

“If you die up here, I’m not carrying you down.” She took her place and side eyed you again. 

You made someone else call out the soundcheck, some stupid excuse so no one would question it. Once that was done and there were only 30 minutes till the door opened, you checked your phone. Bobby let you know that he was dealing with something behind stage so he couldn’t come up there to you. Perfect, he won't know till after then! You did miss him though. A lot. So much. Oh what you wouldn’t give to be in bed with him right now, Rest, god you wanted to rest, Your head was pounding despite the pills you downed an hour ago.

It's okay. It's fine. Just, what, 3 hours max? You could do that no problem. Yeah.

Yeah no you wanted to die. Keel over and just blegh. 

The show felt like it took a thousand years to be over. You missed a cue once and Mira’s mic got accidentally lowered at some point. That was definitely going to be one of those “someone's getting fired” videos. It was just a small mistake! You fixed it in like 13 seconds. By the end of the show, you were literally a zombie. 

“I’m telling Bobby now.” You didn’t even argue as Anahi left the tech booth. You felt cold, freezing even which probably meant you were burning up. In your zombie state, you hardly recognized Bobby walking up to the tech booth.

He was worried, touching your shoulder to slowly try and help you up. “Y/n… why didn’t you say something earlier.” You didn’t respond, too tired and gross feeling to respond. Bobby led you back to the van and eventually, into the hotel room and to bed. You didn’t even take any medicine. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light. 

You groaned, hand on your head as you tried sitting up. You hardly remembered anything after the concert, just that you felt like shit. You still feel like shit. God, you need water, food, and cold medicine before you explode or die of the plague. Where was Bobby? You hated the fact that you most definitely made him worry. You should’ve told him sooner, yes, but the show also needed to get done. And the girls had no openers so it wasn’t really that long!

The door to the room opened and Bobby peaked his head in. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” You shook your head, immediately regretting your decision because you began to feel a bit lightheaded. Bobby sighed. He looked… frustrated. Oh man, you made him upset. 

He had a bowl of oatmeal in his hands, the bag of medicines and water bottles that you had set aside for the girls in the other. “Here,” you scrunched your nose when you took the bowl from him. “Zoey said you hate it, but it’s going to be the easiest on your stomach. Eat first and then take the medicine.”

You bit your lip at his neutral expression, sensing his frustration. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Your voice was quiet and hoarse. You had to clear your throat after speaking. “I didn’t want to worry you.” You let your fingers brush against the top of his hand before returning to holding the bowl of mush. 

Bobby, eyebrows knit, sighed. “You should’ve.” He leaned over, his hand resting on your shoulder, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Bobby’s hand moved up to caress your cheek. “Eat, take your medicine, and then rest, okay? Call me if you need anything. Please.” 

“I promise I will.” You raised your hand, settling it over his before turning your head and pressing a kiss to the inside of his palm. 

Bobby smiled. “Okay, I have to help Rumi clean up that mess of a bed before tomorrow's flight.” You let his hand go. “Eat, or I’m gonna get.” He teased as he walked out the door. You ate the oat slop and took your meds. It was awhile until you could fall asleep. You stared at the ceiling, counting the milliseconds until your eyes closed and you could finally rest.

But it wasn’t for long. 

You shot up from the bed, breathing heavy. Your hand shot to your heart as if you could still the heavy beats before moving to grip onto your arm with that weird rash. It had shrunk and faded a lot more, but it was still there. You had a nightmare. Flashes of strange creatures, a burning fire, the girls were crying, they were hurting but you couldn’t get to them. You lost sight of Bobby as your body moved on your own, leading you into a bright light while you could hear someone — Rumi — crying. You were fully conscious and yet, you had no power over your body. Just a loud voice in your head reminding you of your failures and then offering you a place in the fire.

You were scared. Terrified.

Your hands fumbled with your phone, vision blurry as you desperately opened Bobby’s contact and called him. This time, the girls’ room was a few floors above yours. It would take a bit for him to come down since the elevator is scarily slow.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Bobby answered.

“I- I had a nightmare. Sorry I- I just… can you come down?” You wiped at the sweat on your forehead.

“I’ll be there in a second.” And the phone call ended.

Bobby slid his phone into his pocket, grabbing his keycard and waving to the girls. “Gotta go check on Y/n.”

“What happened?” Zoey asked, concerned. 

“Said she had a bad dream. I gotta go.” Bobby started hurrying out the room. “Sorry girls.”

“Noo I’ve plagued her with my dreams.” Zoey slumped dramatically into Mira’s arms.

Rumi yelled after Bobby, “Tell her we love her!”

He was going to punch the elevator button. Could this damn thing be any slower??? He’s been sitting here for, what, 10 minutes? (30 seconds). This shouldn’t take that long! (The doors literally just opened). Practically smashing the control panel, he selected the floor number and the elevator practically groaned as it started lowering down. When was this thing last serviced? This was a hazard! Oh he’s for sure calling someone about this.

Ping!

The doors opened and Bobby nearly bolted down the hallway and tapped the keycard on the lock to the room. 

“Y/n! Are you okay?” 

You jumped, not expecting him down that fast. “Bobby! I-“ He sat down next to you on the bed. “I’m okay, now that you’re here.” You touched his arm.

“Did you want to talk about it?” He shifted his position, laying back on the bed with you.

You fiddled with your hands before looking him in the eye again. “It had something to do with that… thing on my arm. It grew down my arm and was glowing for some reason. I couldn’t control myself. I was walking somewhere through the streets. I tried to get to you, but my feet just kept going. The girls, they were sobbing, wailing and there was this voice,” you touched your temple. “In my head and it… all the bad thoughts, it was screaming at me. There was this huge fire and I couldn’t stop myself from walking towards it. It was huge, bright but so cold. It felt so real. I could feel everything around me like it was actually happening.” 

You tore your gaze away from him and looked down, arms wrapped around yourself in comfort. “I was all alone.”

Bobby brought you into his arms, hugging you close and resting his chin on top of your head. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him. “You’re not alone. You won’t ever be alone as long as I’m here, okay? I promise.” The gut wrenching statement made your heart warm and you hugged him tighter as you blinked away tears. 

Here he was, holding you close. You, who was sick, sinus full, bones aching, a minor fever. He didn’t care. Bobby would rather ensure your safety, ensure you knew you were loved than worry about how gross you were (or at least, you felt gross). 

“You’re going to get sick.” You muttered weakly after a decent amount of time. 

“I don’t care.”

“Bobby…”

“Y/n….” He laughed at your pout. “I’ll be fine, okay?”

“Okay… Thank you.”

“Always and forever.”

-

tag list: @joyfulllittlething @blackstar-gazer @minkyungseokie @wondertoad @tachiara

Playlist!!

[greasermoon]

Hi! I recently discovered your page and I liked your content very much. So I wanted to ask for something if that's okay. Could you make a headcanon of how the The outsider guys would be when dating a girl that's like super soft? Like, she's shy, clingy, kinda innocent, usually super happy, new in all the relationship thing, excited about doing a lot of cute things and dates with them and always wanting to help them. I really hope you read this. Take all the time you want if you want to make this. Thank you!

Ahhh okay, so you’re my first ever inbox ask and I’m really happy I finally got a request! Thank you for requesting. 🩷

I thought this headcanon was so cute, I definitely had to do this one right away. 🥹 so here it is! Hope you like it!

Also, I’m sorry that this took forever for me to post, I had everything written down and I went to try and save the draft but Tumblr said fuck me and wanted to give me an error page, it ended up deleting everything that I had written down. But here it is!

The Outsiders Headcanons: 🩷SOFT HANDS, NEW HEARTS🩷

✿THEIR CUTE, SOFT, SHY, CLINGY, NEW-TO-LOVE GIRLFRIEND✿

♡︎She’s all sunshine, he’s not ready for how much he loves it♡︎

(okay, I just love this gif of Tommy)

🩷PONYBOY:

Couple Title/Nickname: “look at those two all pure and innocent, all they do is read poetry and stare at sunsets every chance they get… wait… I got it! You two are a couple of INNOCENT SUNSETTERS!” Two-Bit gave y’all the name, he meant it too but you two didn’t mind it.

♥︎ At first, he’s just as shy, so you two are a blushing mess around each other. But he finds your excitement adorable. You both share cute moments and I mean a lot of cute moments.

♥︎ He’ll write you poems about holding your hand or going to the movies together, then act like it’s “no big deal” when he gives it to you.

♥︎ You cling to his arm at school or during walks? He lives for it. When you two walk he looks down at you and smiles widely because you’d be shorter than him, but he loved that fact. Pony loves that you’re a girly-girl but you also have that small tomboyish streak. That streak that just makes you want to race all the way down to Jays for malts.

♥︎ You: “Can we do a picnic date??” Pony: “I already packed the book and sandwiches.”

♥︎ Every time you get shy or flustered around him, he grins like an idiot and turns pink too. Because when you blush, he blushes as well. He just can’t help it when he’s around you. It’s nice because you two are so pure and innocent. I mean, you two know that the passion is there because y’all can definitely see and feel it but you two wait until you’re comfortable and ready. Pony is very understanding and can wait for any furtherance.

Anyways, here’s a small poem Pony wrote about you… one of the many he wrote, that is…

“Because You Smiled at Me”

-by Ponyboy Curtis

☙❧I’ve seen the stars fall quiet,

over rooftops that never learned my name.

I’ve heard the wind whisper secrets

only lonely kids ever claim.

But then you looked at me—

not past me, at me.

Like I was something worth knowing.

Like the world slowed down just long enough

for me to believe it was okay to stay.

You smiled like the sun had hands,

and they reached out just to hold my heart.

And I don’t know what I did to deserve that—

But I think I’ll spend forever trying.☙❧

He’d probably hide it at first, scared it’s “too much,” but once you read it? He’ll watch your reaction like his whole life depends on it. 🥹

(awe Ralph’s smile 🥹)

🩷JOHNNY:

Couple Title/Nickname: “Little Shadows” Because you’re always attached at the hip, quietly following one another around. Two soft-spoken souls who find comfort in each other’s presence—where one goes, the other’s not far behind.

♥︎ Literally thinks you’re an angel from heaven above. Like, he doesn’t even know how he ended up with someone so soft and sweet. It’s almost like he feels like he’s undeserving of the radiant and loving energy that you bring. Because of the emotional and physical turmoil his parents put him through but you’re the complete opposite of his parents.

♥︎ Your clinginess comforts him—he needs the physical reassurance, and he never complains when you hold his arm too long or lean into him. This is literally like his lifeline, he loves how clingy you are and he loves the physical touch. It’s like reassurance to him, reassurance that he is loved and cared for either way. 

♥︎ You’re the first to show him what love feels like, and he’s so gentle with you—slow to kiss, slow to touch, always asking if you’re okay. Johnny is literally the best gentleman boyfriend you could ever have because he literally asks you every time before doing anything, for you to be comfortable.

♥︎ If you get excited about something cute like couples bracelets or date ideas, he’ll just smile and say, “Anything you wanna do, I wanna do.” Now, Johnny is a big fan of flower crowns. So make a homemade flower crown for him, he’ll definitely appreciate it. 

♥︎ Protects your innocence like it’s sacred—but never treats you like you’re naive. Kudos to you, Johnnycake. 🥹

(ahhh i just made this gif)

🩷DALLY:

Couple Title/Nickname: “Beauty and the Burn” Because she’s sunshine in a dress and he’s the cigarette-smoke, bruised-knuckle disaster she fell for. Two-Bit coined it and won’t shut up about it. “She’s got ribbons in her hair, and he’s got blood on his shirt—what the hell kinda fairytale is this?”

♥︎ At first, he doesn’t know what to do with how clingy and happy you are. He’s like, “You sure you’re into me?” Like he even went all in his head and thought, “do I really want this cute lil pipsqueak taking up space in my heart? Fuck… I think I do…” needless to say, you take a big part of his heart. He never in his whole life thought he would fall for someone as soft-hearted as you. It’s refreshing for him to date someone he isn’t used to like girls who were fast and easy. You weren’t any of those, you were the complete opposite from what he was used to in the past but he actually loves that fact.

♥︎ So yeah, once he realizes you really love him, he starts craving it—your hugs, your hand-holding, your giddy little voice when you plan a movie night. Believe it or not, he likes how girly you sound. The color pink is his favorite on you. He also doesn’t pressure you to do things you’re not ready or comfortable on doing since you’re still new to relationships. Believe it or not, he’s super understanding.

♥︎ He pretends he’s too cool for cute dates, but you say “picnic” or “matching shirts,” and he’s like: “…Aight. But only for you.” You guys end up wearing matching hoodies and shirts/outfits, it’s really cute. Like super cute. I’m surprised he even went along with it.

♥︎ He secretly loves when you follow him around like a little shadow. The guys tease him, and he shrugs. “Jealous?” Even when you tiptoe to just reach for a kiss from him. He always smirks and softly chuckles as you try to reach his level, trust me, he thinks it’s super cute that you’re a shorty.

♥︎ Your sweetness melts him—he’s gentler with you than anyone’s ever seen him be. You’re literally his fucking treasure, like if anybody touches you they’d be a goner. Also, just an fyi, Dallas is also a super huge fan of flower crowns too, so be sure to make him one as well, but of course, you didn’t hear it from me.

(Emilio and Ally in this movie were just 🤌🏼✨)

🩷TWO-BIT:

Couple Title/Nickname: the only suitable one would’ve been “Mickey and Minnie” you know since it’s Two-Bit and all, buuuut “Cherry Pop and Trouble Shot” Another Two-Bit original. He tells everyone it’s y’all’s “dynamic duo name.” “She’s the sweet one, I’m the reason we get kicked outta diners.” The name is absolutely ridiculous. You both love it.

♥︎ SO INTO IT. Like, he teases you for being clingy, but he wraps his arms around you the whole time. “Can’t get enough of me, huh? Good—’cause I ain’t lettin’ go either.” And he ain’t ever gonna let you go.

♥︎ Every time you get excited over a cute date idea, he hypes you up even more:

You: “We could carve our initials in a tree!” Him: “And build a shrine around it, yeah! That way the squirrels and the birds know we’re together, baby.”

♥︎ Constantly flirts, but when you get shy and blush, he pauses and melts. “You’re killin’ me with that face, doll…” yeah so Two definitely melted at the time he found out that you’re as pure as the driven snow, “and you’re looking at the only potential driver.” Two would say about himself. You always loved it when he would say that.

♥︎ Makes up silly pet names and holds your hand like he was born to do it. Because what would it be without Two-Bit’s creative and colorful pet name ideas for the two of you? I mean, he’s already calling y’all “Cherry Pop and Trouble Shot” but he also liked “Giggles and Goofball”.

(Lea’s hair is giving ✨)

🩷STEVE:

Couple Title/Nickname: “Sparkplug and Sweetpea” Ponyboy swears he heard Steve call you Sweetpea once under his breath. You light Steve up. He’s sharper, funnier, louder—but also softer when you’re around. The “Sparkplug” is for your little bursts of giddy joy—especially when you get excited about simple things like going to the drive-in together. “She lights him up like a dashboard in a thunderstorm.”

♥︎ At first, he’s like, “Damn, you’re really all over me, huh?” but he quickly starts needing it just as bad. He didn’t expect to fall for someone as soft-hearted as you but he honestly, doesn’t mind it.

♥︎ You being new to love makes him so protective—he makes sure nobody rushes you or pressures you. He truly is a gentleman, believe it or not.

♥︎ Laughs when you bounce around talking about cute dates, but then makes it happen like it’s nothing:“You want flowers and a soda shop dance? Say less.” He’ll go above and beyond just to see your sweet and warm smile.

♥︎ Acts like he’s teasing you when you hug him from behind, but he’s secretly obsessed. He doesn’t want to admit it but yeah, he’s definitely obsessed with you. Need I say more, the guy is whipped. And he wouldn’t pressure you to do anything you’re not ready for.

♥︎ If anyone looks at you the wrong way? He steps in. “Nah, you don’t mess with her. She’s the sweetest thing in the world.” Again, this is a guy who thinks of you as his best and most valuable treasure in this entire fucking planet.

(Robs smile 😍)

🩷SODA:

Couple Title/Nickname: “Sugar Rush” Because being around you two is like being force-fed cotton candy and well… soda pop! You’re always giggling, blushing, and holding hands, and he’s always spinning you around or kissing your cheek in public. “It’s like watching a rom-com through a candy store window,” Two-Bit says with fake disgust. You both just smile harder.

♥︎ He LOVES that you’re new to this and so excited about every little thing. “First relationship? Baby, I’m honored.” He is definitely honored to be your first, pretty much, everything. Sure, he didn’t make it all the way with his past relationship with Sandy but you sure brought the sunshine back in his life after that emotional turmoil.

♥︎ He’s so physically affectionate that your clinginess just fits perfectly. Arms around your waist, nose kisses, swinging your hands when you walk. You two are literal lovebirds. Your shyness to him is his definite weakness. He thinks it’s super adorable that you’re a soft girly-girl.

♥︎ If you say something like, “Is it okay if I hold you a little longer?” he’ll laugh and say, “You better not let go.” He means, you better not let go. Because he’ll hold on to you till hell froze over if you asked him to hold you.

♥︎ Plans cute dates with you—ice cream, boardwalks, watching stars, you name it. He’s literally the best southern gentleman you could ever possibly ask for. He hold your door open for you, he pull out chairs for you, the whole nine. One more good thing is that he doesn’t pressure you into any uncomfortable situation. He’s a very understanding and loving man.

♥︎ Loves when you blush or squeal from excitement. He’ll tease you like, “That smile’s gonna ruin me one day.” And sure enough, it did, but in the best way possible.

(ahhhh love these two)

🩷DARRY:

Couple Title/Nickname: “Steel and Silk” Steve mutters this one day and it just sticks. He’s steel—strong, steady, silent. You’re silk—soft, flowing, tender. And somehow, you fit together. “She clings to him like she’ll break, and he holds her like she’s the only thing keeping him whole.”

♥︎ At first, he’s super surprised that someone as shy and sunshiney as you wants to be with him. He just never expected someone like you to come flowing in to his life like that. But hell, he didn’t even mind it at all.

♥︎ Thinks your clinginess is sweet, but checks in with you constantly—he wants to make sure you’re not clinging because you’re scared. Again, he is definitely a gentleman when respecting your boundaries, since you’re still new to the whole love thing. He takes things very nice, slow and easy for you. The thought of making you uncomfortable, never sat well in his mind.

♥︎ Once he knows that your clinginess is just your way of showing love, he loosens up a lot and lets you hug him anytime, anywhere. “You need me, I’m here. Always.” He definitely reassures you in every way possible.

♥︎ Dates are thoughtful and sweet—he puts effort in, especially because you’re new to all this. “You’ve never been on a real date? Alright then. Guess I gotta make it a good one.”

♥︎ Blushes when you kiss his cheek in public, but you best believe he smiles the whole way home. Again, you have to tiptoe to be at his level for a kiss from him. He finds it funny but adorable that you have to tiptoe to kiss him. He also loves the fact that you’re shy and that you’re innocent, makes him want to be even more respectful than he already is right now.

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

[hangmanbradshaw]

Bradley started to walk away, but Jake stopped him with a hand to his hip. He placed his fingers along Bradley’s jaw, forcing his gaze toward him.

And then he kissed him.

Bradley pushed past the surprise quickly and tugged him in closer. Jake felt good under his roaming hands, skin hot and sweaty with the crowded club on a summer night, with the taste of tequila and lime on his tongue.

Jake angled his head and licked into his mouth, looping his arms around Bradley’s neck as he ground against him to the music. The thumping beat reverberated in his chest, but he could hardly hear it past the pounding rush of blood in his body. He was vaguely aware of other people around them, bumping into them as they danced or moved past, unbothered by the PDA under the cover of strobing lights.

If he hadn’t been tipsy, he was sure fucking drunk on it all now.

Jake pulled away and leaned in, his breath hot against Bradley’s ear. “Reckon he gives a damn now.”

Bradley wasn’t sure he cared all that much at the moment. The fleeting give a fuck was somewhere, lost and not worth being found, when Jake was standing in front of him with flushed cheeks, twinkling green eyes, and fluffy, relaxed hair. “Come on,” Bradley said, dropping his hand to tangle their fingers together. “I’m gonna get you another drink.”

With a grin, Jake let Bradley lead him through the dance floor. The bar was packed with people waiting for attention, jostling and unintentionally elbowing each other; Bradley guided Jake to the front and crowded up behind him. It didn’t take long to get the bartender’s focus- a fact Bradley wore with pride. He’d seen Jake eyeing a tropical, purple drink in a few other hands, so he leaned in, pressing close and tight to Jake’s back so he could yell at the man behind the counter. “Two of those.” He nodded at the girls to the right.

“Thought you weren’t a cocktail guy,” Jake said toward his cheek, loud enough to be heard over the music.

Bradley shrugged. “Looks good, right?”

The bartender returned with two purple-pink cocktails, and Bradley slid a 50 across the bar. “Keep the change.”

The guy raised his brows and nodded in thanks, moving on to help the next customer. Jake gave him a look, the showoff more than clear without words. Bradley smirked.

They ducked and weaved their way to the edge of the dance floor, where Jake draped an arm over his shoulder and swayed along to a Britney Spears song. The drink was good, he had to admit. Tangy and sweet. Bradley stared at Jake’s mouth wrapped around the plastic and wondered if it would taste as good off his lips.

“Ya look good like this, ya know?” Jake said, the alcohol slurring his words just slightly. Making them louder. Lighter. Brighter.

“Drunk as a skunk?” Bradley teased.

“Lettin’ your hair down.” His pupils were blown and glassy as they tracked over him, his smile melting. It made Bradley’s alcohol-fueled body heat.

“It’s fun. Don’t remember the last time I went out like this.”