#also rip to those that don’t actually know that small child isn’t actually a small child

[ataleofcrowns]

I love A and Xs friendship, it’s very cute how X gets a bit sheepish(?) around A. Will we ever get to see how they got so close or abt the time they met?

Begging for A/X crumbs

I actually have a bonus snippet up on my Patreon going into the first time A and X met, as well as a snippet of a romantic scenario for the two of them! They're available for tiers 2/3 (Successor and Crown tiers).

Here's some excerpts that I think A/X shippers might enjoy!

For the first time they met, told from A's POV:

“Well, well, aren’t you ambitious,” Xelef says, smirking with amusement, and Azad can’t tell if he’s being derisive or not. “I’d introduce myself, but I’m sure you already know who I am.” Whatever Xelef’s intent, Azad feels the urge to establish himself as an equal—or, at least, undermine Xelef’s composure to level the playing field. “Indeed,” Azad says after a pause, then points out: “You have ghoul pus on your tunic.” The tactic works even better than expected. “What?” Xelef startles, looking down at the purplish smear on his robes, recoiling when he sees it. “Oh no, no no no! Disgusting!” Azad watches with no small amount of bemusement as Xelef rips the straps of his leather armor pieces off his chest and then tears his tunic off his head, throwing it to the ground. “Did you really just remove your armor over that?” Azad remarks faintly, though his eyes dip down Xelef’s chest before he realizes what he’s doing. Glancing over the thick dark hair that trails from his chest to his stomach and past his bellybutton—until Xelef notices. “You’re welcome for the view,” he says, seeming to momentarily forget his disgust as he puts a hand on his hip. Azad quickly averts his eyes, scoffing. “What view? That of a mercenary squealing like a child over some pus?” To his amazement, Xelef bends down and picks up his leather armor, reattaching the pieces without his tunic. “Pardon me for valuing cleanliness,” Xelef huffs, and Azad notices a bit of dried purple liquid in his hair. He thinks it better not to mention, considering Xelef’s reaction, until Xelef says: “In any case, you’re also welcome for us doing your job. Don’t worry, in my magnanimous generosity, I won’t expect payment.” To the Void with that, then. “You also have pus in your hair,” Azad points out mercilessly, and Xelef’s eyes go wide with horror. “NO!” He turns to a masked mercenary nearby, gesturing at his head in panic. “Heval, water! WATER! NOW!” Azad can’t help himself, letting a laugh slip, and Xelef turns to him with indignation. “You think this is a joke?” Xelef yells. “My hair is ruined and you’re laughing! I could turn into a ghoul—” The masked mercenary, Heval, lets out a long-suffering sigh as they take a flask from their belt and approaches. “That’s not how that works, chief.”

For the romantic scenario, told from X's POV:

Xelara sighs, leaning forward to rest her chin thoughtlessly on Ashti’s shoulder from behind her. “I don’t think we’ll find your hidden compartment in here.” It’s a casual gesture that isn’t supposed to mean anything, beyond the indication for how comfortable Xelara feels around Ashti. She knows Ashti is slow to warm up to physical affection, but they’ve gotten to a point where an arm over the shoulder or a hug isn’t uncommon for them. She thought this would be received the same—but then she feels Ashti stiffen. She focuses, and hears Ashti’s heart starting to beat faster in her chest. Feels her body heat begin to rise. “Right,” Ashti speaks after a noticeable pause, fingers clenched around the closet door she’s holding onto. Xelara considers whether to pull away. She can sense that the touch is either making Ashti nervous, or excited, or both, judging from the way her body reacts. None of those possibilities necessarily indicate that it’s wanted. “Do you mind?” she asks quietly, and Ashti’s heart beat flutters. Xelara bites down on her lip in an attempt to suppress a smile; she simply can’t help it. Ashti is so adorable whenever she gets flustered. “No,” Ashti responds haltingly, even while her posture is tenser than stone. She clears her throat, attempting to brush over it. “I’m used to your clinginess by now.” “Really?” Xelara shuffles a little closer, her chin atop Ashti’s shoulder still the only point of contact, but she hears Ashti’s breath catch all the same. “So you won’t mind if I hug you like this?” Ashti’s heart starts to pound, her neck all but glowing heat against the side of Xelara’s face. “…No.” Xelara’s hands lift to grip Ashti’s waist, fingers lightly curling around either side. Ashti doesn’t move a single muscle. “Are you sure?”

#i'll probably also end up releasing the first one and a few more for the public in the future!! #ask #anonymous #a tale of crowns #azad/ashti #xelara/xelef #a/x #patreon

[bambiraptorx]

Welcome to Not Quite Hidden AU. This is a poll-based story. Word count: 504

There are many things that Draxum isn’t a fan of, and small children and grocery shopping are among them.  Not that he hates either of them, of course, it’s more of a mild dislike than anything else; something that must be dealt with occasionally but can generally be ignored.  Annoying as both of those things can be, they are a part of life.

Combining them, however?  Rather more than a mild dislike at this point.

He pins his ears back under his helmet and grimaces as he tries to compare the cost of two boxes of crackers and ignore the shrieking from the aisle over.  Someone has been letting their horrid little offspring run rampant for the past ten minutes, and if they don’t do something Draxum will.  A supermarket is not the place for kids to be running around and playing tag, much less for screaming!  If one of them even gets close to him he’s going to—

A small giggle alerts him to the presence of one of them.  Oh, great, they’ve infiltrated this aisle too.  Once the others catch up to this one, it’s going to be nothing but noise.

Something tugs at his train.  “Mister?  Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Draxum twists away, yanking the fabric away from the small hands and glares downward.  “None of your business, you little—”

A small green face stares up at him, pouting slightly.  It’s a young turtle, wearing little more than an oversized tunic that still doesn’t quite manage to escape the rips and tears of being forced over such a spiky shell.  He has a good deal of spikes, actually, small reddish points scattered across his shoulders and arms and larger ones on his elbows.

Titan above, the boy looks like one of his.

The child stares at Draxum, his eyes flicking back and forth, and suddenly brightens.  “You have arm sharpies too!”

And yes, Draxum does have spikes on his gauntlets, but that does nothing to explain why this turtle looks so achingly similar to what Draxum’s would have been at this age.  Might have, really, he doesn’t know for sure.

“Raph!  Raphie!  Raph, Donnie’s it now!”  Another child barrels around the shelves and all but skids behind Draxum.  This one’s a turtle as well, with a smoother but more decorated shell and small yellow splotches across his face and limbs.  Draxum’s breath catches.  Another, so similar too?  How is that possible?

He’s about to ask them a question—clearly they know each other, and he’s always hoped that at least one of his specimens might have survived somehow—when a short ferret yokai turns the corner, two more small turtles trailing behind him.  

“Boys, where did you go?  I told you not to run off again—” his semi-desperate call trails off as he catches sight of Draxum.

Draxum stares at the other turtles—a softshell, and a slider.  Exactly like his own. There can be no doubt now, these are Draxum’s turtles.  But how did they all make it out, how are they all here?

Info:

I decided to try a new format for an au. This is going to be something of an interactive, choose your own adventure type story. Also it was originally based on this post lol. Feel free to ask questions if you're curious!

Next

#rottmnt #rottmnt au #not quite hidden au #my writing #rottmnt baron draxum #rottmnt splinter #turtle tots #rottmnt fanfiction #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #also yes splinter is a ferret in this au and not a rat #poll

[meteor752]

Double life except instead of just the sharing of pain and lives they also share a child together

Exactly what the title says

Like, one month after the gang was all dropped into Double Life, they all got a notif about seven new entities spawning in. When checking spawn, then gang finds six multicolored baskets all containing a child, an egg, and a letter. The letter is from The Watchers or smt, essentially saying “Sup, here’s some kids for y’all, lol take care”. Panic ensues

Also all the names are very arbitrary apart from one being chosen for a dumb pun

Liana no last name given

Professional Scammer and pathological liar, Liana is the fledgling that hatched from the egg belonging to Scar and Grian

She’s a manipulator at heart, a con artist through and through, tho she hides it behind sickeningly sweet words, large puppy eyes and bright colors

Has great relationships with both of her dads, even though their parenting styles are very different

Grian is a total helicopter parent, Liana was barely allowed to leave the base as a kid in fear of her getting hurt

Scar does not give a shit, she could be telling him that she’s off to summon a wither and he’d just ask her to be home for dinner

She inherited the “Looks like a cinnamon roll but can actually kill you” vibe from Grian which she uses fully to her advantage

Scarlet Macaw hybrid, though her wings are too small for her to actually use them to fly, but they do help her glide

Dressed in strikingly bright colored suits just to throw people off, and smokes a pipe for pure aesthetic

Can’t build for shit, she’s a shame to the family

Dating Jassy

Wes Double-SV

Local stressed out mom friend, Wes is the baby from the yellow basket belonging to Impulse and BDubs

He’s an overachiever, always feeling a need to be perfect and do everything right

Suffers from a lot of OCD and anxiety

His relationship with his dads are a bit rocky, especially with BDubs

Both Impulse and BDubs are a bit like those Beauty Pageant moms, always feeling a need to prove that their child is the best. This is partly the reason for Wes’ disorders. Impulse can be a bit more chill than his hubby however

He does love his dads though

A thing that does add to his stress level however is the fact that all his friends are fucking maniacs and he’s the only voice of reason they have

Part imp like his father, his horns are his pride and joy

The tallest of the squad, usually carry the others if they get tired

Has a bit of the clock obsession, he’s got both a pocket watch and a rolex just because

Dating Jekiv

Gertrude Statz-Diggity Dawg

Chillest person to have ever walked this earth, Gertrude is the pup from the blue basket belonging to Ren and BigB

She’s a Redstoner, a damn good one at that too, and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty

Does not give af about anything, just here to vibe

Her relationship with Ren is very casual, they’re more like dude bros than father and daughter

BigB is the more parental of the two, he’s the one who baked her cookies when she felt sad and told her stories when she couldn’t sleep

Dog hybrid and part werewolf, once every month she becomes ‘Weretrude’ (That was the dumb pun)

A big gal, second tallest of the gang, standing at six five, and ripped af, wears tank tops to show off her muscles

Wears shades so much that the light actually hurts her eyes at this point

Still got a lot of dog instincts to deal with, so don’t go throwing any sticks around her because she will just up and chase them before anyone knows what’s actually going on

Dating Novo

Jonathan ‘Johnny’ Tek

The server’s dashing charmer boy, Johnny is the country boy that was found in the red basket belonging to Jimmy and Tango

A true boy of the farm, this lad gets up every day at five am to do his chores, whistling a country tune as he does so

He takes more after Tango in terms of looks, but Jimmy when it comes to personality. He has his father’s blazing temper though

He’s the apple of his parents eye, an absolute breeze to handle as a kid which helped a lot because they’re both disasters

Talks with a very, very, thick southern accent that no one knows where it comes from, since no one else on the server has it

He plays the banjo, because of course he does

Demon hybrid, tries to hide his more demonic features like the horns and tail as to not scare the animals

Secretly kind of a monster fucker

Aromantic, so not dating anyone

Jassy Smallishbeans

Anime ninja extraordinaire, Jassy is the girl that was found in the gray basket belonging to Etho and Joel

Tries her dang hardest to have a cool and intimidating presence like Etho, but she’s a bit too much of a goofball to be able to

The biggest fucking fan of puns, will go to serious lengths to tell a bad and witty joke

Idolizes Etho, he’s the coolest fucking person in her eyes and she wants to be just like him

He’s very protective and constantly worries about his daughter, even if he tries to act like he’s not

Joel is a bit of an awkward parent, he tries his best with her but he’s not cut out for parenting

Jassy is genuinely a very good fighter, stealthy enough to sneak past skulk sensors with no issue, and a master marksman. She just has a problem keeping a straight face sometimes

Has a few anime attributes, such as the unnatural white and ridiculously styled hair, a very strange way of eating*, and the swirly eyes whenever she gets knocked out

Lean mean speedy machine

Has to wear a mask covering her mouth to hide the goofy smile she gets constantly

Dating Liana

(*That thing Anime girls do when they take the smallest fucking bite out of something and then immediately like, orgasms or something it’s so weird, look it up if you don’t know what I’m talking about)

Jekiv Inthelittlewood

The Half dead sass master, Jekiv is the zombie child that was found in the green basket belonging to Cleo and Martyn

Is very monotone without really meaning to, but yeah this boy will roast the shit out of you

He was mostly raised by Cleo, since Martyn wasn’t too keen on having a child. He gets along great with his mom, but his relationship with his dad is pretty much non existent

Martyn tried to reforge it when Jekiv became a teenager, but the damage was already done and the daddy issues had settled in

Absolutely fucking adores frogs, they’re his buddies and his pockets are filled with them

Kind of hates his sorta Step-Brother Novo

He is a zombie hybrid, which means that he can’t sleep, his skin is rotting away, he limps when he walks, and he’s sensitive to sunlight

Wears a light pink cloak to cover up his skin. Is also always dressed in pastel to counter his kind of horrory and gory look

Dating Wes

Novo Major-Moon

Unhinged freakster of the server, Novo is the half elf in from purple basket belonging to Scott and Pearl

Superstitious as all hell, wears a four clover necklace around his neck, a rabbit foot around his ankle and had his pockets filled with acorns

He thinks his mom is really cool and awesome, and even if Scott had the majority of the custody this bitch still turned out insane

He’s got them crazy eyes, a slight twitch to his movement and absolutely zero filter for his mouth, spouting out every random thought he could think of

He’s absolutely tiny, standing at barely five feet, with zero muscle, which makes him the ultimate twink

His makeup look consists of heavy eyeliner and then a spray bottle to the face, giving him the running mascara look. He knows he’s unhinged and he commits to the aesthetic

His dad thinks he should calm down a little and such, but he does support his son in his weird makeup and his beliefs

Adores annoying his kinda Step-Brother Jekiv

Dating Gertrude

Was this an excuse for me to make a bunch of fankids? Yes. Am I ashamed? Not in the slightest, no

Also if ur wondering Wtf kinda names these are, I was just sitting with a document typing random shit in until I found something that fit. Sometimes I got something nice, like Gertrude, and sometimes I just got a random bunch of letters, like Jekiv

I made some cute ship names for the couples as well, so we’ve got Stress and Sass, Tol and Smol, and Pirate and Parrot. Y’all can probs figure out who’s who.

But yeah I had fun doing this, character creation is one of my favorite things and I’d say it’s one of my biggest strengths as well, which is actually kind of sad

Also when I started this it was just the end of session three, and like now two couples have died so rip Team Ranchers and The Box duo, you’ll forever live in my heart

Edit: These babies now have DESIGNS! Check ‘em out!

Edit 2: These babies now have some CHARACTER TRAITS! Also DEATH!

#double life smp #dlsmp #double life smp headcanons #kinda #fankids #dlsmp fankids #Grian #goodtimeswithscar #desert duo #Scarian #bdoubleo100 #impulsev #homewrecking duo #Bpulse #renthedog #bigbst4tz2 #RenB #The Box duo #tango tek #jimmy solidarity #Team Rancher #joel smallishbeans #ethoslab #Smalletho #Box bros #zombiecleo #martyn inthelittlewood #Team Vultures #Clartyn #pearlescentmoon

[goddessapostle]

Meet (Not) Cute

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Characters: Chuuya, GN!Reader Summary: ‘Stay smart, stay safe.’ It’s the most solid advice you’ve received in regards to your move to Yokohama. You’ll survive if you don’t go looking for trouble. Which doesn’t stop trouble from coming for you. 

2.9k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: This fic is part of a collab, the New Beginnings collab hosted by @venexus! It's also a couple days late, hehe

Yokohama is a dangerous city.

Or so you’ve been told. You weren’t born there. You’ve never been there. Your parents lived there only briefly before moving out to a city that’s neither rural nor suburban, but somewhere in between. You grew up among the trees and alongside the town — which has grown considerably more than you in your lifetime. It’s nothing like Yokohama yet, you know, but it’s only a matter of time until it is.

Which is why you accept the promotion that will upheave your entire life to Yokohama. It’ll be good money, good experience, and a good chance to prove yourself.

Oh, but the danger! cried your family.

There’s danger everywhere, you countered.

What about the criminals! cried your friends.

There’s crime everywhere, you countered.

There is nowhere in the world that will keep you completely, one-hundred-percent safe.

But oh , they did not stop. Everyone had something to say about your move to the city, ranging from unhelpful advice to wildly untrue stories. You roll your eyes and toss the unwelcome pepper spray, pocket knives, and portable tasers in the bottom of your luggage.

There’s only one piece of solid advice, given by a friend who was actually raised in Yokohama:

“Keep your head down,” she said with a slap to the back. She knew more about the city than anyone else in your sheltered little life. “There are things far more dangerous than humans in that place. You might return to your apartment one day to find the entire building gone. Just stay smart, and you’ll stay safe.”

Stay smart, stay safe.

Easy enough.

Stay smart, stay safe.

Words to live by.

Stay smart. Stay safe.

Etched into your mind.

And you stick to them with rigidity. You don’t go out after dark, you don’t answer the door for strangers, you stay on everyone’s good side. Nothing you do will result in trouble for you. You make sure of it. Which, unfortunately, is not enough to keep trouble from seeking you out.

It happens while you’re at work one day. You return from your lunch break, park your car in its usual spot at the edge of the lot, and go to work the remainder of your shift. When you exit the building, you miss the usual shine of sun reflecting off the windshield of your car. Which is understandable; you’re about an hour late leaving and the sun has shifted more than normal.

What isn’t understandable is that it’s missing.

You frown at the empty spot. A few other cars are missing, but not in the way yours is. Those other cars belong to coworkers who have left already. It’s just yours that isn’t where it’s meant to be.

There is, however, a bunch of broken glass.

You sigh as you dig around in your pockets for the plate number. Then you head back inside and call the police. 

They’re useless, for the most part. They find your car, sure, but it’s smashed halfway into the third story of a building a block and a half away. Their hands are tied, there’s nothing they can do.

Even when someone digs up some grainy surveillance footage from the camera across the street.

You sit with them — the officer on the case and the man with the video — to watch it. The officer and man whisper amongst themselves after they watch, totally ignoring you. Not that you can fault them for that. What you just saw should be impossible.

It was a man(? Woman? Child?? Someone small.) that crashed into the side of your car at what should be a deadly speed. They should have been nothing but blood and broken bones. Yet they stood. They stood, wiped their face, and grabbed the handle of your car.

And ripped the door off. Tore through it like paper to hold in front of them. The window shattered, and sparks flashed against it — were those bullets? Then the person threw the door at something off screen before lifting the car entirely and running away with it.

You are, without a doubt, speechless.

You play the video again. And again. Again again again again, pausing every few frames to try and puzzle together an image of that person in your mind.

Their clothes are dark and flowy. They look kind of fancy. A large jacket that covers their frame when they stand, making them look more androgynous than before. Their hair is… long or short, you can’t tell; a little of both, you think. It’s orange, though. The smudge of darkness on top of their head must be a hat — one that, despite all their movement, doesn’t budge at all.

You frown at the image frozen on the screen. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” you ask.

The cop’s face kind of scrunches. She purses her lips and lowers her brows until she looks like a wrinkly little dog. “We’ll need more evidence,” she starts, “the quality is too low for a positive I.D.”

“But you know who it is,” you say. She has to. Otherwise she wouldn’t have mentioned evidence.

She looks at the man, until she has an answer, then turns her gaze back to you. “It’s no one we can touch, even if this video were crystal clear. Was the car insured?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“Then I suggest looking for a new one. Have a good day.”

And with that she boots you and the man out of her office. You stand in awkward silence until he clears his throat.

“Sorry about your car,” he tells you.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is it always like this?”

“Yes.” He offers you the flash drive with the video saved to it. “Take this to the Armed Detective Agency. They may be able to help.”

You’re positive you’ve been told to avoid them somewhere in the unwarranted advice you received before your move. Should you go to them, or should you just ignore this whole thing?

Stay smart, stay safe. No good would come from messing with them.

You take the flash drive anyway, then thank the man and — ugh — walk home.

A (presumably human) person was able to pick up your car and not just move it, but run away with it, and maybe even throw it into the side of a building. And this is seen as somewhat normal?

What the hell is going on in Yokohama?

The next day brings no answers, nor does the day after that, or the day after that. One week and a lot — a lot — of hassle finds you carless, still. You spoke a lot with your insurance company, and after a hefty amount of back-and-forth-and-back-and-forth-and-back–

Well. Suffice to say they would not help. Apparently theft wasn't covered under your policy. Nevermind that you actually found the car, destroyed or not. 

An old friend brings you one to use until you save up enough for a down payment. So you tearfully cut down on your spending as yet another bill looms on the horizon.

And then it’s back to normal. Except for the video.

It eats you alive — who was that person? Why did they take your car? How did they do that?

No answers. No answers at all.

It. Consumed. You.

So you gather your courage and put on your toughest face. Square your shoulders, lift your head, widen your stance. You don something black and business-y and make your way to the Armed Detective Agency.

Your entire tough-guy persona deflates when you’re met by a nervous looking boy with white hair.

“The others are out right now,” he tells you. “I haven’t been here long, so I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

Which…. Figures. You sigh and fish the flash drive from your pocket, fiddling with it in your palm. The boy apologizes and offers you tea; one of the senior detectives should return shortly.

You’ve waited barely ten minutes when the door creaks open and a tall man steps through grumbling about some suicidal idiot.

“Mr. Kunikida!” the boy calls. “We have a guest today!”

You stand to greet him and introduce yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Kunikida nods. “What brings you to our office?”

Straight to the point, then. Admirable. You hold the flash drive up to him.

“There’s a video on here of my car being stolen,” you tell him. “I want to know who did it.”

“That seems like a matter for the police to handle.”

“I went to them. They can't do anything. They won’t even tell me who it is."

“They won’t–” Kunikida stares for a second, one brow raised, then sighs. “Fine. You have a right to know. But I’m not promising anything.”

He takes the flash drive to a computer and watches in silence. You and the young detective stand at his shoulders, watching behind his back. Kunikida waits until the video ends, then sighs.

“I can see why the police wouldn’t take this case,” he says. He pauses the video on its clearest frame. “The person who took your car is a high-ranking member of the Port Mafia.”

“The Port Mafia?” You remember something about them, too, somewhere in the advice. Maybe you should have been paying better attention.

Kunikida nods. “They’re very dangerous, this guy especially, and they practically run the city. I wouldn’t bother with this anymore.”

“But-then–”

You groan. The frustration at having the answers dangled in front of you again builds inside your chest. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Can you at least give me a name?”

“No. As I said, he’s very dangerous. You won’t be able to confront him–”

“Oh, it’s Chuuya!” says a new voice behind you. You gasp and turn to find another man behind the three of you.

“Dazai,” Kunikida warns.

He doesn’t listen. Instead he rummages around a few of the empty desks. “Aw, I was in such a good mood. I don’t want to think about Chuuya right now.” He finds what he was looking for and makes his way back to you to present a photo.

Kunikida snatches it from his hand, but not before you catch a glimpse of the person on it. It’s hard to tell from the quality of the video, but the general color schemes seem to match. “Chuuya…?” You look at Dazai.

“Nakahara!” he manages before Kunikida shoves his hand over his mouth.

“We don’t need to say anything, Dazai! In fact we shouldn’t– are you licking my hand?! ” Kunikida shoves him away, wiping his palm on his tan jacket. “Fine!” he says, throwing his hands up. “Tell them what they want to know. It’s on you to protect them, though!”

With that he storms out of the office, presumably to wash his hands.

“Mr. Dazai–” starts the boy.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Dazai cuts him off. “You won’t do anything stupid, will you?” he asks you. “Not gonna run off and try to take him down?”

“I-of course not!” The dude lifted your car and threw it into the side of a building. You may want to know who did it, but that doesn’t mean you have a death wish. He didn’t look like a bodybuilder in his photo, but if he could lift a car without breaking a sweat, you weren't about to get on his bad side. 

Or… were you already? Is that why he stole your car?

The thought must pass over your face, because Dazai busts out laughing. "I wouldn't worry about it. It's a big city. You likely won't ever see him again, even if you went looking."

So. There it is. A name, a face, even an occupation — all things the police refused you. Perhaps to keep you safe, but more likely to keep themselves safe.

Chuuya Nakahara of the Port Mafia.

You wish you could see his picture again. Just one last look, to really study his features. It seems you see him everywhere now — in the flutter of a dark coat, in every flash of orange hair, in all the stupid fancy hats that catch your eye. He's not there, he never is. It's always someone else, something else. But you just can't shake him from your thoughts.

Maybe having your car stolen has you more shaken than you realized. You almost want to thank the police for withholding information, until you realize that without the knowledge the ADA provided, you'd probably be more paranoid.

Two months later, you find a car that won't cut into your paycheck as much as all your saving has. It's old and kind of junk-y, but one you already cherish and plan to park much closer to buildings from now on.

After a (rather bumpy) drive around town, you decide you need a vacation. Not a long one, just a weekend trip home to unwind and get rid of the headache that comes with such a big purchase.

It's on the way back — mind settled and peaceful — that your car gets stolen again.

It didn't start that way, no. You were stuck in the traffic trying to enter Yokohama proper when there was an explosion somewhere on the bridge you hadn't quite reached yet. 

The driver in front of you screeched on their brakes and kicked into reverse. (They bump into you trying to turn around, because of course they do. Can't have anything in this godforsaken city.) A few more — Yokohama natives, if you had to guess — simply moved into the farthest lane from the explosion and booked it. Impressively, they made it across. You watch a dingy blue pickup zoom onto the road before another explosion rips through the bridge entirely. A hail of rock and debris pelts your roof in an almost musical rhythm.

Ah. That's probably your cue to get the fuck away.

So you do as the driver in front of you and turn your car around. It's easier for you, since all the other cars are gone. You miiiight have spent a little too much time gawking. Your brain kicks itself on and you punch it back the way you came.

Or, that's what you envisioned, at least. What happens instead is your windshield shattering and the car rocking.

Something lands on your car. Something heavy enough to dent the roof in.

You gasp, checking behind you, but all you see is flames. Sweat drips into your eye. You rub it away. Turn back to the road. Fight the panic that rises in your throat.

Stay smart, stay safe, think.

Can the car still go? Yes. It reacts to your foot on the pedal, engine revving as you hit the gas.

But it doesn't move. 

It goes backwards, in fact.

It's not in reverse, is it? No, you already changed gears. You whip around to the back windshield, but there's nothing there.

The door beside you is ripped off. You scream, fumbling the lock to your seatbelt. You tumble through the air as soon as it clicks open.

Which doesn't make sense, does it? You hit asphalt chin-first. Blood fills your mouth — did you bite your tongue when you landed? You lift your head to spit it out.

And watch as a man slams your car in front of him, headlights down. It sticks straight up into the air, forming a barrier between him and… are those gunshots? He turns to glare at you, mouth open to–

Your blood boils .

"You!" you hiss before he can say anything. You scramble to your feet, spitting another mouthful of blood to the road. "You stole my car!"

He has the nerve to look indignant. "To stop the bullets from hitting us!"

"No, not– well, this one too!  You stole my other car and slammed it into a wall!"

He narrows his eyes. "I don't remember you."

He doesn't remember you. He doesn't remember you , specifically. Does that mean he remembers the incident? Does that mean he does this often?

"I was working! " you seethe, spreading your arms to the side. "And I have proof, too!"

He raises a brow. "Yeah?"

"Yes!" It's at home, thankfully, and not being shot up like the rest of your stuff. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through?!"

His eyes flicker to your chin and forehead. Something in his gaze shifts, softens. "Shit," he says, "that does look pretty nasty."

It's only then that you realize it wasn't sweat dripping into your eye earlier. You wipe away another trail of blood to glare at him more fiercely. (Or would the blood help with that?)

And then. And then! He has the audacity to laugh. "I like you," he says. " There's a small army trying to gun me down, but you're scarier than them all."

Mission accomplished, sort of. You feel your cheeks heat up. He holds a hand out.

"I'll make it up to you," he promises. "Chuuya Nakahara." His occupation comes crashing back to you.

You shouldn't take his hand, you know. He's a gangster, a criminal. He is currently being shot at by — in his words — a small army. His every breath is danger. His smile is pure chaos.

But he's gorgeous and strong and seems to know his way around the city. Your fingers clench in the crook of your arm.

Stay smart, stay safe.

Stay smart.

Stay–

Screw it. You take his hand with a grin as wild as his.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya nakahara #bsd fanfic

[voodoodle14]

The bloody red string of fate part 1

The day of fate is an incredible day that happens once every hundred years where the red string of fate is visible for only 24 hours naturally a lot of people chase the red string and it’s promises of love and companionship after all who wouldn’t want to meet their soulmate!?

a lot of people actually

some people follow the string and find a tombstone

others find out the person who they have been married to for years isn’t their soulmate

some are simply so disappointed that their soulmate wasn’t who they thought they’d be it jeopardizes the relationship early on and they cut the string …

The day of fate is the only day the string of fate can be seen and destroyed however only one of the two soulmates can destroy it a lot of people don’t want to know who their soulmate is and lock themselves in their house or wear blindfolds all day

Hero was a person of strong will they knew of the tragic stories that came along with the red string because of these possibilities their superiors ordered them to keep the blindfold ON at all costs. Hero followed orders and did what they were told if their superiors told them to run they sprinted, if they told hero to swim hero would dive in with no hesitation ,and if they told hero to fight they went to war.

However it was so very tempting to rip off that damn blindfold and run after the string as they felt their string get a small tug from the other end. That only meant one thing their soulmate is ALIVE and NEARBY the hero’s chest unwilling began to be filled with nervousness and butterflies like a child with a crush “please please PLEASE don’t stop looking I can’t look for you but you can look for me please find me!” Hero begged in their mind as if their soulmate would hear them another tug but HARDER began to pull …

All of their life villain had no one not a single person who gave a DAMN whether they lived or died they had people who pretended to have their best interests at heart but in the end the villain was just a stepping stone to those people who only ever cared about power. Villain learned all on their own what they needed to do to survive Villain taught themself to tie their boots,Villain learned the hard way never to trust anyone even with the smallest things,Villain taught them self to drive ,

Villain learned to never be dependent on anyone EVER

Villain knew that the only person they could trust would be the person destined to love them forever after all if you can’t trust your soulmate then who can you trust?

Villain has waited for this day for SO long hoping for this day to happen for YEARS planning it all out hoping their soulmate would be happy with them the villain gave the string on their a small tug with a hopeful smile on their face as they felt resistance sooner than the villain thought “they’re close” the villain thought with a small smile of course the villain knew of the horror stories that came along with the string of lovers but paid them no mind this would be the one thing in the villain’s life they did RIGHT after all the villains mate for life must also be a criminal considering they are supposed to love each other until death.

Villain didn’t feel a tug back perhaps their little soulmate is shy or nervous that’s okay though villain will be brave enough for the both of them a slight blush on their face as they tugged the pretty red string a little harder and began their search roses in their unstringed hand and hair slicked back wearing only the most expensive cologne.

#red string of fate #soulmates #hero x villain #Soulmate au #poor villain #hero is afraid don’t hate them too much #okay you can hate them a little #villain #hero #enemies to lovers

[theadventuresofgarlandodra]

The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- The Knight in Black Armor

Prev.

CW: Child Death

Smoke. Smoke and blood.

Odra stumbled back in the village, spinning around and around to look for any survivors. Any at all. All she could see were corpses. Corpses of her fellow goblin defenders, but also the bodies of the elders, the farmers, the ones that just stayed home to mind the village… the ones who never hurt a fly.

Why? Why would someone do this? Odra weaved through the ruins and the death, whipping her head back and forth as she searched for her friends. “Mitemouth? Fatgut? Where are you guys!?” she called out. “Pach? Uglap? Anyone?! Clammaw?! Hello!? Come on, this isn’t funny anymore! Get out here, you all can’t be dead!”

They couldn’t be. She’d only ran away from the fight as a joke. They couldn’t be dead because of her joke.

Her pace picked up as she reached the center of the village, where some of the fires were still going. The smell of burning flesh made her eyes water but she sped up, the babies were there, if they weren’t moved away the fire would soon-

Odra skidded to a dead stop as she realized the fire was located inside of the pen.

No. They couldn’t have been that cruel.

But they’d been crueler.

The smell of lamp oil hung heavy on the air, and a smoldering torch laid in the center of the pen… surrounded by blackened bodies that were little more than skulls twisted in horrible screams and small hands clawing at the dirt, desperately trying to escape their fiery fates.

No.

No.

NO!

Odra didn’t wake up screaming anymore after the nightmares, but it still wasn’t great to have them. The goblin sleepily poked her head out of the Cauldron of Trapfinding (her leverage from the last time she played cards with Dullahan, he still owed her like thirty gold) as her sleepy brain tried to figure out just what had dragged her out of slumberland.

Someone knocked at the door and Odra realized it had to have been that.

“You better have beer or meat for me,” she growled as she flopped out of the cauldron, grabbing her cloak and wrapping it around herself before she ripped opened the door.

Of course, it would be the one morning Odra slept in and looked like dog shit that freakin’ Aunva Zauth would show up.

Odra blinked her eyes a few times to realize that no, this wasn’t a weird continuation of her dream, and that the most gorgeous woman in the guild was right there in front of her. “Oh! A-Aunva! Hiiii!” Odra laughed nervously, trying to seem casual in front of the drow as she leaned up against the door frame. “Morning!”

Aunva giggled, hiding her hand behind her mouth. “It’s actually early afternoon, but I wasn’t sure how late you’d be awake tonight. I’m not really a day person myself. How are you?”

Odra swallowed. “I’m uh, I’m good! I just wanted to get a few extra hours beauty rest, you know?” She laughed nervously. “Whadya need? If you need anything at all, of course.”

The goblin nearly melted when Aunva leaned down to gently pat Odra on the top of the head. “You’re so kind,” the drow said with a smile. “I was actually hoping to make a proposition of you and your friend, the gargoyle, but I like to do my business where we’re all comfortable. So tonight, you and Garl are invited to my home. I live in the Likadell district, you know where that is?”

Odra nodded mutely.

“Excellent! I’ve invited a few other people as well. Don’t worry.” Aunva winked. “I’ll be sure that there’s plenty of meat and beer. I’ll see you then! Oh, and be sure to clean up before you arrive- we’ll be enjoying some time in the new hot spring I had dug, and it’ll save time if you’re not too dirty beforehand.”

The drow straightened back up, smoothed her cape, and like the perfect goddess Odra thought she was she walked down the hallway where a few of her men were waiting for her. Odra sighed and briefly entertained ideas of holding hands and snuggling before she left behind those gooey daydreams to go get ready.

Luckily Garl was as easy as ever to find, he arrived back home from Fit For Kings just as Odra was getting out of the bath.

“Huh. You know, in the three years I’ve known you, this is the first time I’ve seen you willingly take a bath,” the gargoyle noted as Odra picked out the only nice shirt she had to wear.

“We’re going to Aunva’s tonight! And we’re gonna be enjoying her hot spring!” Odra slipped the shirt on before she threw open the most important drawer. “Which shoes should I wear?”

Garl eyed the heap of boots and shoes that Odra had collected. “… How many more have you gotten since the last time I’ve looked at these?” he asked.

“Probably two or three more pairs. The cobbler got busy with a huge order for a wedding,” Odra pulled out two pairs of black ankle height boots. “Should I wear the ones with a gold buckle or should I go silver? The silver has a sapphire anklet that goes really well with it, but I’ve never worn the gold buckle shoes before, so they’re basically brand new!”

Garl took a deep breath before he pointed towards the silver ones. “Just picking at random,” he grumbled.

Odra laughed as she slipped the shoes on. “Hey, the name is Manyboots, I’m a goblin who appreciates good footwear!” she said.

“Uh huh… so I’m getting forced to this thing too? You do realize Aunva’s straight, right?”

Odra’s smile immediately turned into a scowl. “Don’t. Don’t take this from me,” she grumbled.

Garl sighed before he opened up his closet. “Guess I got nothin’ better to do tonight anyway,” he said before pulling out a cloak that somehow hadn’t been torn yet. “This look good?”

~*~

The Zauth manor was as luxurious as one would expect from the wealthy drow lady, but not everyone knew to dress for the occasion.

Sahsi Humble looked a little pale as she fiddled with her pale yellow skirt. “I feel underdressed,” she muttered to Odra.

“You’re not. Dullahan on the other hand,” Odra glowered at the one human in the room. “My guy. What the fuck. Is that fresh blood on your clothes?”

Dullahan shrugged. “I learned something today.”

“What the hell did you learn!?”

“That elf rib cages will collapse under a lighter load compared to human rib cages.”

Odra opened her mouth to respond, only to immediately close it as Aunva walked out the front door. “Welcome, everyone!” The drow lady was beaming. “So glad you all made it! Come with me, the hot spring is delightfully warm tonight.”

Sylvia glanced down at her dress. “Um, this isn’t really hot spring wear,” she mumbled.

Garl smirked. “Don’t think you wear much in the hot spring, Syl,” he pointed out.

Sylvia gaped but before she could say anything Dullahan yanked Garl down by the horn, a disturbingly pleasant smile on the human’s face. “Garl. I’d be very, very careful about how you move forward with this conversation,considering you have two perfectly good eyeballs that would make a great ingredient for darksight concoctions,” he said.

Garl swallowed and nodded while Dullahan continued to smile and released the gargoyle.

Aunva either didn’t notice the conversation or chose not to acknowledge it. “We have towels, Sylvia. Depending on the culture, it’s appropriate or inappropriate to wear a towel in the springs, but in my home, you do what makes you and the people around you comfortable,” she said, her crimson gaze flicking over towards Garl for a second before she gestured them forward. “Come along!”

There were two separate rooms and the guests split off based off their gender into them. Aunva had clearly planned for a variety of guests as she had towels of multiple sizes, depending on the size of the person using them.

Odra wrapped a bright orange towel around her waist and gave it a pat. “Comfy!” she decided before glancing up at the confused Sylvia. “Yeah?”

“… You’re supposed to…” She gestured to her own black towel that was tucked over her chest. “You know?”

“Syl, I’m a goblin.” Odra pointed towards her flat chest. “There’s no boobs for anyone to see. You see any titties worth covering up?”

Sylvia blinked a few times before turning away. “Let’s just get into the spring,” she said quickly.

Aunva chuckled as she braided her hair up around her head. “Oh, to be young and have shame again,” she teased.

“You better be talking about the dhampir and not me,” Odra deadpanned before she realized who she was talking to. “I mean-”

“You’re fine, little Odra.” The drow finished tying up her hair. “Goblins don’t have the same standard of modesty as humans or elves of any branch. I wouldn’t expect to hold you to those standards. Come on, I think the boys are already out there.”

The hot springs were the peak of luxury, with places around the pools to set down platters of light snacks and flower petals sprinkled across the surface of the water. Both Dullahan and Garl were in fact already out there. Dullahan had sunk into in the water down to his nose while Garl’s wings were fully spread out, taking up more than his fair share of the hot spring. Sylvia was the first in the spring, taking a spot next to Dullahan and sinking down to her chin. Odra flung herself in afterwards, belly flopping on the surface and sinking down before popping up to spew out water like a nightmarish fountain. She swam over towards Garl and sat on his knee.

“Right, it’s so good you all could come,” Aunva began as she stepped into the pool. “Would you like refreshments? We have fresh pomegranate juice, fruits, cheese, whatever you like. If I don’t have it, I’ll send one of my boys to go fetch it in town.”

Garl glanced over at the other pool, where Aunva’s ‘boys’ were relaxing and chatting amongst themselves. “Any reason they’re over there and not with us?” he asked.

“Because they haven’t earned it yet,” Aunva said, as if that answered everything.

Dullahan said something that was masked by the water before he popped up enough to speak clearly. “That’s a bit of a dick move, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It’s a part of the game, darling Dullahan,” Aunva explained. “If they don’t want to play it anymore, they take the collars off. We can go months without playing this game, but we’ve gone twice as long playing it.”

Dullahan glanced over at the men, and the dragonborn waved back at them. “Right. Well, I’m not hungry. What’s up, Aunva?” he said before he sank back into the water.

“Right to business. Can’t say I’m overly surprised, but perhaps let’s get it over with so we can spend the rest of the night relaxing.” Aunva snapped her fingers. “Nuo, darling, bring the wanted poster.”

One of the humans lounging in the other hot spring got out and, after he dried off his hands, fetched a paper off one of the tables and brought it over. Aunva patted his hand. “Thank you, you can return with the others,” she said.

When Nuo left, Aunva unfolded the paper and showed it off. There was a sketch of a man in black armor, along with a lot of gold for in his capture, dead or alive.

Odra whistled as she stood up to get a better look. “Who’s this creep?”

“They don’t know his name or what he looks like under that helmet,” Aunva explained as she refolded up the paper and set it back on the side of the hot spring. “What is known is that he has followers, they’re all incredibly violent, and they’re responsible for the razing of several small villages. Everyone they don’t kill they sell to slavers. Their targets are getting more and more brazen as well. After I studied their path with Ficas, we know where they’re hitting next. And I’m here to ask if you want in on this.”

Garl cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you coming to us?” he asked.

“I know none of you are in this for the glory. You’re in it for the entertainment and the gold.” Aunva spread her arms out. “I have enough wealth to keep me more than content for another century or two. I don’t want for anything… save for a little more room in the back lawn here so we can have afternoon tea, but I digress. No, what I want is the respect of bringing in a catch like this knight in black armor.”

Sahsi cocked her head to the side. “I mean, I’m doing this because I want to do the right thing, but… this guy sounds really awful,” she shuddered.

Aunva nodded. “Oh, he’s the worst people have to offer. Which is why I want to drag that bloodthirsty scourge in front of King Sostias for my reward. I’ll probably get a few ballads written about me, no doubt I’ll be knighted since I was instrumental in the capture of a menace. And if you help me, seventy five percent of the bounty is yours. The remaining twenty five percent will go to my boys, I’m sure you understand.”

Garl twisted his mouth but before he could respond Odra hurled herself off his lap and swam over to Aunva. “Ma’am, I think I speak for all of us when we say- we are fucking in,” she said.

Aunva patted the goblin on the head, and Odra sunk beneath the surface of the water as she practically melted in a goblin puddle. “You’re so sweet. Well, I’ll take it you mean yourself and Garl, so Dullahan? Sylvia? Sahsi?”

Sahsi cleared her throat. “Well, if I can help capture this monster, then I’ll come along,” she said.

Dullahan glanced at Sylvia, and the two had a muttered conversation between themselves before Dullahan looked forward. “We’ll come along,” he said.

“Excellent! We’ll leave tomorrow night, I don’t really care to travel during the day,” she gestured to her eyes, “you understand. Light sensitivity. Well, I’ll go get those refreshments. I’ll throw in some wine as well, to celebrate this agreement.”

Garl reached under the water’s surface and plucked the lovestruck Odra up. “You’re going to drown if you don’t get back over here,” he said.

“Mmhmm,” the goblin agreed.

“Great. After we’re done here, I’ll get our weapons sharpened… you, I don’t know, keep planning your wedding to a straight woman that will literally live over a hundred times longer than you.”

“Mmhmm…”

Next

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing community #writers #creative writing #dnd homebrew #goblins #short stories #spilled ink #the adventures of garl and odra manyboots #fantasy comedy #fantasy stories #short fantasy stories

[seeklovenet]

9 Of One Of The Best Websites For Finding A Sugar Daddy

9 Of One Of The Best Websites For Finding A Sugar Daddy

Prices at most different sugar daddy websites are usually much higher than on common relationship platforms, and customers are charged per minute of chat or on a per-message basis. However, we thought of the price of paid companies budget-friendly enough, especially for communication options, and particularly for sugar daddies. The reality is that not all dating websites are made equal; some ‘work’ higher than others. An app like Tinder for example is infamous for having users that are extremely flakey. It can be known to host way more men than girls which makes it unusable for a giant chunk of the apps’ inhabitants.

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Worth | How A Lot Does Secret Advantages Cost?

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Tips On How To Become A Secret Advantages Member?

Generally the people who ask this query are those who haven’t registered on a sugar daddy web site prior to now , and it’s a good query. Secret Benefits is not a rip-off; in fact it has been around since 2015 so it has been going strong for a few years now. It has been reported that the site has over 700,000 registered users in the United States alone and over one hundred,000 energetic users weekly. Secret Benefits is most undoubtedly a respectable website that servers lots of of thousands of individuals month-to-month.

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Sugardaddymeet

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The recipient won’t obtain any extra, in particular, financial information about a sender. Your checking account number or credit card won’t be shown to an SB. As we come to the end of our journey and the ultimate sections of our review of Secret Benefits, there’s only one factor left so that you simply can do! It’s time to determine if you wish to take an opportunity, create a free account, and see who could be in your area!

Platforms And Sugar Daddy Dating Sites That Send Cash

Your Secret Photos are not mechanically available for everybody. Sugar daddies who pay to use this feature will be succesful of see your pictures, and you will be able to see exactly who has viewed them from within the platform. Sugar Babies are ladies, often under the age of 35, who are excited about a mutually helpful relationship with an older man. SecretBenefits has accomplished everything right to garner a big pool of Sugar Babies to select from.

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 3: Revenge of the Sith

I finished my prequel re-watch last night with Revenge of the Sith. I liked it pretty well... I think I enjoyed it more than Attack of the Clones. It was similarly too bloated with extraneous action sequences, but not as much so, and I think the overarching plot--Anakin’s turn to the dark side--was better constructed and more interesting than the overarching plot of Ep II: the Anakin and Padme romance. It was very dreary and humorless, except for the weirdly slapstick beginning with the elevator sequence, but I was expecting that.

I really loved the droids in this one, I have to say. All of the battle droids and the weird round things that unfurled and stood on their legs, and the long-nosed dudes who were dumb as posts. And I especially loved the design (and idea) of General Grievous. Very creepy.

Some other thoughts:

Palpatine’s dialogue isn’t subtle but his plan is; it’s actually quite smart, and he’s a good villain. He engineers the war, uses the fear of that war to corrupt the Republic until it can no longer be called a democracy, then paints anyone who mentions that possibility as a traitor; destroys them, and then cleans up all the loose ends. The use of the clones and Order 66 is very chilling a well, and he manipulates Anakin wonderfully.

I do like the Anakin story as it arcs over the three movies. All he’s ever wanted is stability, safety, and family, and the moral certitude that would underpin the rest and allow him to feel secure in it, and he’s never gotten any of it. Any hint of it is immediately snatched from him. And no one but Palpatine even seems to see his desires and needs. Pure power seems to be the only way to get any of it. The Jedi really fucked up with him. In addition to ripping him from his mother and keeping him from any kind of healthy marriage or romantic relationship, their own bloated complacency and wishy-washy morality keeps them from providing the stable base he needs from which to grow. You see hm in Menace, a small child with a lot of power, a lot of emotion, and absolutely no instruction on how to use that power, no guidance at all, impulsive and confused. And the Jedi take that kid and basically just set him loose on the world; all they do is help him grow and hone his power, but not how to harness it for a proper end. He wants to use it for good! He believes in compassion, which is sort of like loving everyone. But the Jedi are simultaneously invested in the moral gray (only the Sith deal in absolutes), and in compromise (putting Anakin on the council, denying him the rank of Master), and in their own secrecy, all he learns from them is more confusion and more instability.

When Mace Windu wanted to kill Palpatine, Anakin wanted to bring him to justice. He wanted to follow the Code he thought the Jedi had taught him. And he saw that the Code was provisional. In that scene, he learned that the Jedi do not have a moral core; they do not provide him with stability and certitude. Palpatine promises him simplicity as well as power: a dictatorship, where the right thing is always done and we know it’s right because one person decides; a world where you don’t need to rely on other people because you can rely on yourself and your own power; you can cheat death, you’ll never lose your family again.

Padme was pretty pathetic in this installment. All she got to do was be pregnant and sad. And apparently she’ll be kicked out of the Senate because the Republic doesn’t have pregnancy discrimination protection?? Okay lol. I’m also really unsure about that whole “died because she lost the will to live” thing. I believe that that could happen, but in the context of those scenes--with the addition of lines like “she’s healthy” and coming as it does at a moment where she seems to be useless to the plot--it sounds less like a fatal psychological injury and more like what it is: a fridging.

I don’t even think that this story point makes sense. Leia says in ROTJ that she remembers her mother. She says her mother died when she was young, but she has some images and other general memories of her: that she was beautiful, kind, but sad. There is no way that she got all that from the moment she was born, I don’t care how Force-sensitive she is. Also, the implication in that conversation is that she spent more time with Padme than Luke did: she has memories, and he doesn’t. Finally, she doesn’t say her mother died in childbirth; she said she died when Leia was YOUNG.

I think a more consistent and less annoying chain of events would be: Padme gives birth to both babies, but is told they need to be separated because the Emperor will be after them; she has to choose between her newborns, which is extremely traumatic; she chooses to keep Leia but will only part with Luke if he’s raised by Anakin’s family on Tatooine and keeps his name (also closing the plot hole of why anyone would “hide” Anakin’s son in his family home with his family name); to keep her and Leia safe, she goes with Bail to Alderaan and for a few years, she raises her child there, but she’s weak, she never really recovers; even in Episode III, other characters talk about how weak she is, so the audience understands what her death will be; over time, implied/off screen, she really does lose the will to live, missing Luke, hurt by Anakin, physically weakened by childbirth, and when Leia is 3-4, she dies and the Organas adopt Leia. I could also see Obi-wan et. al. lying to Padme about Anakin’s fate. She doesn’t know he’s going by the name Darth Vader; Obi-wan could tell her he died on Mustafar and not correct the record even when he finds out that’s not true, and over time this lie to Padme grows in his own mind, so that he increasingly separates dead Anakin from live Vader. So by Episode IV, he’s fully able to talk fondly about Anakin, his friend and apprentice, while viewing Vader as Anakin’s evil killer. This is obviously a huge part of Obi-wan’s (and Yoda’s) psychological and moral rationalization between the prequels and the original trilogy. It would just be interesting if the lie started as a way to protect an already fragile Padme from a truth she can’t face and they wish they didn’t have to.

This version does open up the plothole of why Anakin doesn’t immediately go after his wife if he knows she’s alive, but it closes more than it opens. He could believe her dead. He never clocked Leia as his daughter even though they were face to face, perhaps because he didn’t know a daughter had ever been born, so there is precedent for this kind of “Force sense” wishy-washiness.

In general, I have mixed feelings about Padme. She seems overall rather caught up in her political world, the hypotheticals of the situation rather than the reality on the ground. And her reactions to the reality she does see are lackluster--like when she learns there are slaves on Tatooine. She’s like: that’s bad... and then we never hear of it again. Overall, politics failed the Republic. She and the Jedi were part of that.

But she looks great in those outfits.

The Mustafar fight scene was too long. Way too long. For all that, it was oddly not memorable (as B said). I don’t entirely know why... Was it the length? Did it just mean too much, have too much weight on it? I don’t know.

But the ‘creation’ of Vader as a cyborg was chilling. It’s weird how even though the whole point of the movies was to show how Vader came from this little kid in Episode I, as soon as he was in the suit he seemed like a totally different person to me. It was even weird that he immediately asked for Padme even though he became this way specifically to save her.

Ironic. Also ironic: the way his story fulfilled a prophecy in a very Greek way. He chose the dark side and its power to save Padme, but that same decision--what he became and what he did--was what killed her. In trying to avoid his fate, he put his fate into motion.

Also ALSO ironic: that Palpatine told him that there was only one Jedi/Sith who had ever learned the power of overcoming death (implying it was whats-his-face, the possibly fake Sith who seemed to be Anakin’s father??) but it was Qui-gon who accomplished it. So if Anakin had stayed with the Jedi, he would have gotten exactly what he was looking for with Palpatine.

(And then he became a force ghost anyway, so whatever.)

So... at the end, Vader knows Padme is dead and knows there was supposed to be one baby but he doesn’t know if the baby is dead or alive, or that there were two. and the Jedi think Vader is dead. Because Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to finish a job!! That must have been a fun surprise finding out he’s not.

#the year 2022 #2022: fandom thoughts #2022: movies

[runecel]

Happy Henshin Secret Santa! This was is mainly platonic and I was gonna put some romance at the end but then time got ahead of me so I might just do a sequel later, idk XD.

Anyways @schwarzkal I was ya secret santa and thank you so much @heishinevents for giving us this event!

I’m gonna take a rest my lord

#dcmk #heishin #heishin secret santa 2021 #kudo shinichi #edogawa Conan #hattori heiji #platonic heishin #detective conan #detco #fanart #also rip to those that don’t actually know that small child isn’t actually a small child

[absolutepokemontrash]

Hi! So, I absolutely love your series where the MC is the kid of Lucifer, and I was wondering if I could request that with Diavolo and Barbatos? •v•

:0 you definitely can! Right now I’m just doing Diavolo, but Barb’s will be up sometime soon!

MC is Half Demon and Oh Shit They’re Diavolo’s Kid-

Diavolo wasn’t exactly what one would expect of the prince of Hell, I mean, he was suppressing the urge to bounce in his seat from pure excitement. I mean, his exchange program was starting! Humans, demons, and angels, all together, his dream was coming true.

All that was left was for the student to arrive, the portal opened, and the human fell flat on their back. Oof, maybe Diavolo should have set up some kind of landing zone filled with pillows. No matter! The human was-

…

What peculiar eyes this human had…

Oh… oh dear…

Dad-volo

The MC was his child, no question about it. This was… very unexpected. Well, the entire assembly hall was completely quiet, and the kid looked like they were getting impatient.

“HEY! Mind telling me what the hell is going on?!”

After that, Diavolo launches into his explanation, also the explanation that he’s definitely this kid’s dad. Kid was not impressed, they tried to square up with Diavolo and Lucifer had never been more confused as to what to do.

Well, the moment MC sprouted wings and launched themselves at Diavolo, Dia caught them with one hand and continued speaking like nothing happened.

MC, please calm down… Diavolo didn’t know they existed, let him make it up to them! They’re going to stay at the Demon Lord’s Castle! Dia’s going to be a good dad!

“This feels like the plot to the world’s most messed up fairytale.” MC jammed their hands into their pockets and grumbled. “I get sucked into hell and find out I’m royalty there. Great.”

Diavolo managed to smile and awkwardly reach out to give them a pat on the head, then retracted his hand after the kid shot him a glare. “Well, it’s not a very traditional fairytale, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“Mm, sure.” MC mumbled.

Okay, so his child wasn’t that enthusiastic about the exchange program, but Diavolo was sure they’d come around.

Dia tried everything he could possibly think of to get his kid to both like him and enjoy their time as an exchange student. A lot of things had… mixed results.

Also, legally recognizing MC as his child and legitimizing them caused a big stink amongst the nobles who were opposed to the exchange program to begin with. So MC then had to deal with a few assassins. Wonderful. Fantastic. Show stopping. Dia, be a good dad and comfort your angsty murder target- I MEAN preteen.

They do manage to build a good relationship fairly quickly despite their less than stellar first impressions, and Diavolo made them a promise that he knew he wouldn’t ever break: he would let them live as normal a childhood as possible.

This means that MC gets to do all the normal kid stuff that Diavolo wasn’t allowed to do. It honestly works out great for everyone. MC gets to live their life, Diavolo gets the satisfaction of knowing that his kid’s having fun, and Barbatos doesn’t need to worry about MC causing chaos in the castle.

Man… does this kid’s magic potential scare the shit out of everyone though…

Tired Uncle Lucifer

No. This has to be a violation of his worker rights. It cannot be legal for him to be this stressed.

He knew this exchange program was a bad idea. LUCIFER FUCKING KNEW IT. This kid was judging him. Why did he suddenly feel self conscious about every single one of his features? This child was picking him apart and they hadn’t even said anything!

He confiscated Asmo’s phone immediately, this was a matter of national security! Satan’s too! Beel as- oh shit Lucifer may have to give Beel the heimlich maneuver, then take his phone.

When all the brothers eventually got back to the HOL, they were greeted with Mammon getting shaken down by Levi.

“Lucifer! Ya won’t believe this! Levi- what’s wrong with you?” “The exchange student is Diavolo’s child.” “What..?” “*pops the cork off a bottle of Demonus* the exchange student’s Diavolo’s child.”

The worst part about this kid was that they took to the privileges of being royalty like a fish to water. MC went out and did whatever the fuck they wanted, and Lucifer needed to make sure a state of national emergency wasn’t called just because MC picked a fight at RAD.

It didn’t help that MC was just so unimpressed with Lucifer. Anytime Lucifer would tell them not to do something they would just raise their eyebrows and challenge his authority without saying a word.

What the fuck.jpg

The things he does for his prince boyfriend…

Cool Uncle Mammon

Huh, so this little pipsqueak is Lord Diavolo‘s kid? Hm, do ya think they’d let him into the royal treasury? No? Okay… lame.

Mammon then decides this kid would be just perfect for scamming people! Who is going to say no to the Crown Prince’s kid? A suicidal person, that’s who!

And the kid is… up for it? Wow, Mammon didn’t even have to grovel! Awesome!

It’s such a shame that Lucifer came in and promptly removed MC from Mammon’s presence. Tsk, killjoy…

Mammon and MC do get along swimmingly after MC stops angsting. Whenever they hang out it’s pure chaos.

And they would have gotten away with it too- wait, they do get away with it. Because who’s going to question the Crown Prince’s kid? >:)

Reclusive Uncle Leviathan

Levi was in the middle of throttling Mammon for his money back when Lucifer burst through the door looking like he had spent over 1000 Grimm on a gacha game only to not get the card he wanted.

And where was that human he said would be staying with them? Huh? The human’s HUH????!!!!

… wack. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped out on that Student Council Meeting…

Either way, ew, new person he needed to talk to. NO THANKS. Well, no thanks until MC started to visit the HOL to hang out with Mammon. Of course those two normies decided to bug him. OF COURSE.

Levi finally snapped when MC loudly proclaimed that they could totally beat Levi in Mario Kart. Haha, NO. Levi challenged the little runt to a 1 v 1 race on Rainbow Road.

Kid lost. Obviously. Rainbow Road is rigged.

Honestly, kid’s alright. Still a total normie, but not completely terrible.

Cat Uncle Satan

Huh, a half human child of the soon to be demon king, how very interesting.

Oh, and just look at Lucifer’s face. :D priceless. Satan wished he was fast enough to get his DDD out to snap a picture, but he wasn’t able to…

But back to MC, oh how very intriguing. How much power do they have in comparison to Diavolo? Will using that power rip their fragile little body apart? Would they learn to control it? Satan was just dying to find out.

His feelings on the child themselves were mixed at best. They were clearly unhappy with the situation and Satan could sympathize, being thrust into a completely new world and then being told you can’t leave and are also royalty? That has to be hard. But this kid was still being an unreasonable little shit.

Satan continued to try and study MC from afar until the kid themselves walked right up to him and half demanded half pleaded for his help in studying for a test.

Not being one to avoid an opportunity to flex how smart he is, Satan agreed to help out. (Nerrrrd)

And honestly, it went well. When the kid wasn’t being a little shit, they were actually quite pleasant to be around.

Overly Affectionate Uncle Asmo

…wut

Listen, when Asmo asked Lucifer to pick a cute human, he didn’t mean cute as in CHILD.

This kid was DIAVOLO’S?! What lucky human had gotten to have the experience of [Jesus Fucking Christ, Asmo I’m not writing what he said for the sake of the nation]

Anyhoo~ little MC just made his heart go “SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SO CUTE!” They were so cute Asmo could just eat them up!

But they were so mean! That scowl they always had on was going to give them wrinkles and ruin their perfectly cute face!

Sigh, oh well. He can’t manually rearrange people’s expressions. What he can do is take this child shopping. Poor Diavolo was constantly in his RAD uniform, this poor innocent baby shouldn’t have to suffer the same fate.

The kid continued to scowl at everything, but at the same time, their little quips were very entertaining. This little kid spitting verbal venom at anyone who displeased them reminded Asmo of someone… he just couldn’t place who, but they definitely had amazing hair and a cute face :3

Hungry Uncle Beel

Where’s the takeout- I mean human? What’s happening? …are all humans this small? Dang, that’s barely enough for a snack.

So the human’s not going to live with us because they’re not fully human and Diavolo’s kid? Huh. Wild. Anyway, what’s for dinner?

Beel’s not too invested in this drama, he misses Belphie too much to be that interested…

The kid’s weirdly interested in how cool and strong Beel is though. MC tails him to the gym pretty often.

Diavolo and Beel already being gym buddies send tweet-

Since this benevolent little shit likes Beel so much, they decided to take it upon themselves to help with the family drama.

Beel finds that very sweet 🥺

Murder sleepy Uncle Belphie

Oh man… if you thought Belphie was being unfair to L!MC due to their parentage… hoo boy…

When this kid waltzed up the attic steps like they ran the place, Belphie needed to hold himself back from trying to break down the door and throttle this kid.

Pff, of course Diavolo would have a half human kid. Of course.

…kid beat the shit out of him when he tried to kill them. We stan this MC.

After all is said and done, Belphie still isn’t overly fond of MC. They’re brash and rude and only funny 40% of the time. They don’t even like napping 😒

But Beel likes the little runt, so Belphie and MC put up with each other.

Bonus! Your Angelic Uncle Simeon’s Chihuahua

:0 friend!

MC: *speaks*

>:0 not friend! Begone! *throws crucifix*

#obey me #obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me Headcanons #obey me! headcanons #obey me Diavolo #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor

[lebenspurpur]

slashers w an s/o who has nipple piercings?

Warnings: slight NSFW and slight mentions of violence

Michael Myers

Michael really doesn't care what you do with your body unless you're dying or something.

That being said, he probably takes a while to value them like they should be valued. 😤

He thinks about ripping them off on a daily basis so be careful.

He also doesn't really care about them on a sexual level.

However, Michael likes to play with the accessories when you're lying next to him.

Hmmm... how long can he pull until your nipples rip off?

It sounds disturbing but hey, you're the one reading Michael Myers fanfiction.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent loves them.

He himself wanted piercings before but his insecurity stopped him from actually visiting a studio.

Can you pierce him????

He's very ecstatic about the whole thing.

Vincent likes to draw or shape you with different kinds of piercings as well, giving your ideas for your eventual next accessory.

Touching them is a touchy subject at first (see what I did there hehe). He's scared he'll hurt you, especially in a sensitive place like your nipples.

Vincent loves to circle his tongue around them, feeling the cold metal in contrast to your soft, warm flesh.

Bo Sinclair

Shit sugar, that's so hot.

Bo is touching them all the time, there's literally no self-control inside that man.

Usually, piercings, as well as tattoos, are a "sin" in small towns like Ambrose which makes them even more enjoyable to him.

You're breaking the rules, you're a rebel, just like him!

Okay, now Bo already sexualizes breasts way too much. He'd literally think exposing your breast to feed your child is sexual... (not sharing his opinion by the way!!)

The fact that you have piercings there just enforces his opinion. He can't think of them as something non-sexual.

Lester Sinclair

The first time he sees them, he's very shy, blushing immediately when you expose the accessory to him.

C-..can he touch them, Y/N?

I also kind of expect him to be new to the world of piercings and tattoos.

Didn't that hurt, honey?

You might have to explain to him how and why you got them.

Maybe he even wants some himself when you're done explaining.

Baby Firefly

Baby probably has nipple piercings herself, come on.

If not, she still loves them.

They're a form of self-expression and that's something with very high value in the Firefly family.

She likes to buy new rings for them, shining and glittering ones, as her little gift to you.

Shit darlin', those are sexy!

Otis Driftwood

So fucking hot, sugar...

Otis loves them.

He loves how well you can combine pleasure and pain with your accessories.

Playing with them during sex can be pleasurable until he pulls them and he loves that.

Another one who thought about ripping them off, the first time he saw them, great.

Otis is kind of pissed that you can't wear rings with his name written on them?? Yeah, he's stupid and possessive like that.

He just enjoys clothing and other accessories that let people know who you belong to.

Billy Loomis

Woah, where'd you hide those?

He didn't expect them but hey, he's not complaining.

He likes to slightly pull on them, just out of pure childish curiosity.

I am pretty sure that Billy would love to dress more alternatively so he might take you as the inspiration to finally get pierced as well.

He can finally look like the bad boy he always wanted to look like.

Stu Macher

Shit babe, those are hot!

He's enthralled, can he touch them?

Shit, he really likes them.

He really wants some too now.

We all know how much he loves his tongue, running it around the silver rings is something he loves even more.

Stu likes to pull them with his teeth, looking up through those blond eyelashes while he does so.

Brahms Heelshire

*mom stare* wHat are thOse?

Yeah Brahms' opinion of piercings isn't the best.

Mrs. Heelshire taught him that people with tattoos or piercings are bad and not classy enough to deal with her "precious little son".

But you're not bad?

He's very confused now, are you a good or a bad person?

Maybe.. don't talk about them for a while, Brahms needs time to think.

A tiny part inside of him is very turned on by the secrecy and dirtiness of nipple piercings but he'd never tell you that.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is skeptical as well, having been born into a very conservative family.

He secretly doesn't have anything against them, but he knows his family does.

Maybe don't tell Luda or Hoyt about them.

Tommy loves you and every part of you so he doesn't really care, as long as you're happy.

Your accessories open his mindset a little. Maybe, just maybe, he should get a piercing too? Maybe in his ear?

Josef

Josef doesn't really care about them.

He asks a lot of questions about the process though.

Did it hurt? How did they do it? Where did you get them?

He's like a child, really.

Josef really likes how well they fit your whole body. He likes the aesthetic if that's what you want to call it.

Amanda Young

Amanda doesn't really deem them as something special.

They're cool of course, but a lot of people nowadays have nipple piercings.

She's a bit worried about the pain you must have been in to get them since nipple piercings are considered one of the most painful ones.

She likes to feel the contrast of warm and cold when she touches your breasts, it's very fascinating to her.

#michael myers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #baby firefly x reader #otis driftwood x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #josef x reader #amanda young x reader #slasher headcannons #brahms heelshire x reader

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

[sunsents]

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

#angst #hp angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley series #reader insert #harry potter fluff #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine

[raibebe]

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized​ who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?”   “Nope.”   “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.)   “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again.   You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now…   “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.”  You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe.   “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless.   “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.  

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

#kafenetwork #johnny #seo youngho #johnny suh #nct #johnny smut #johnny fluff #nct smut #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #johnny fic #johnny fanfic

[gingersnaaps]

making things right

you and iwaizumi just aren't meant to be, and if he has to fuck some sense into your little brain for you to understand, then so be it.

wc: 2.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): noncon, explicit n*fw, blackmail, emotional manipulation, emotional sadism, dumbification, degradation, fem!reader with inner genitals, has something resembling an actual plot

a/n: i couldn't decide which way i wanted to go with the plot, so i just did both. read a darker version of this here

i don't want minors interacting with my content

Oikawa really doesn’t like how much time Iwaizumi has been spending around you lately.

It’s not that he’s jealous, of course - that kind of pettiness is far beneath him - it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not the natural order of things for someone as pretty as you, all soft skin and glowing smiles, to be practically draped around Iwaizumi all the fucking time.

He’s counted, you know, and today was the thirty-eighth time that you’ve visited their lunch table and somehow ended up on Iwaizumi’s lap.

And doesn’t he also have to think of his team? The Spring Interhigh’s coming up, and it wouldn’t do for one of the most important players on the team to be constantly distracted. He’s seen the way Iwaizumi looks at you: it’s adoration encapsulated in a gaze, the kind of tenderness and admiration that he’s only ever seen Iwaizumi direct at himself.

Oikawa’s going to have to fix this, isn’t he? He’s going to have to make everything the way it should be.

-

He finds that he enjoys the constant planning and brainstorming and especially the fantasizing far more than he’d anticipated.

Oikawa notes down which days you go home immediately after school, which days you stay, and the routes you take home. He writes down all your friends in a little notebook, familiarizes himself with the classes you take, and pays extra attention to your mood swings.

Of course, as he spends more and more time detailing every aspect of your life, it’s only natural for his thoughts to… wander. In class, he catches his own attention drifting away from Japanese literature to thoughts of what you’d look like strung out on his cock, eyes squeezing out tears as he stuffs you full and claims your pussy. He thinks about how slutty your skirt looks when you’re bending over, and about how much he’d like to rip it off of you. He likes to imagine how Iwaizumi would react, too - the way he’d cry and sob and finally understand that you don’t belong with someone like him.

He finds that these thoughts allow him to tolerate Iwaizumi’s presence near you a lot better, even though the two of you have only grown closer as of late. When you start getting particularly obnoxious with your flirting, he just has to picture you screaming in pain as he fucks you dry, or think about the bulge in your throat from his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. And when he sees Iwaizumi finally ask you out on a date to the ramen place nearby, he almost feels sorry for how short-lived, how temporary, your romance is going to be.

As the weeks go by and the Interhigh draws near, Oikawa thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of how to make it happen.

It starts off almost too easy.

Oikawa’s usually the one who stays late after practice, slamming his serves into the opposite end of the court until his vision goes dizzy and his arms turn numb. But Iwaizumi - bless his generosity - had planned on staying after to help a few of the first years out with their serves.

He waits at the school gates, scanning the entrance for any sign of you. You should be finishing up with your little club soon if the notes he’d been keeping were any indication, and sure enough, he spots your bright teal jacket scurrying towards the gates after just a few minutes.

Oikawa plasters on his friendliest smile, waving you towards him. “Hey,” he greets. “Iwa-chan told me to wait for you today. Do you want to come over? He’ll be along in just a minute - he’s just cleaning up the gym a bit.”

“Aren’t you the captain?” you tease. “So much for being responsible.”

He forces out a laugh. Do you realize how insufferable you are? Because you’re really not doing yourself any favors with the way you’re acting. But he pushes down the surge of anger that threatens to spill over, because he knows you’ll change your tune as soon as you arrive at his place.

He can’t wait.

The walk home is filled with empty banter, useless conversation that flits back and forth on the most boring of topics. To be honest, Oikawa appreciates this - it gives him the mental room to think about much more interesting things, like the way your breasts are pushing against the jacket, or the slight sheen of your lip gloss. Or, alternatively, the way your breasts would look spilling out of his hands, and the way your shiny lips would look smeared with spit and cum.

He places a hand on your waist as he guides you inside his house, but you stiffen. “Isn’t Hajime supposed to have caught up to us by now?” you ask.

Hajime.

First name basis, huh?

It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of change that has him seeing red at the periphery of his vision, the kind that makes him want to ruin your slutty body until it's bruised and leaking cum. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi for twelve years. Twelve years, and all he’s gotten from him is a nickname. You’ve known him for barely a fucking year, and here you are, sauntering away with his first name.

His hand on your waist tightens, gripping and squeezing at your lovely flesh until he can feel you wince in pain. “I’m afraid it might be a while,” he says, voice brittle.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning around, your eyes widening.

Oikawa shoves you inside and slams the door. “I mean,” he hisses. “That your precious Hajime won’t be coming around anytime soon.”

Panic rises in your throat, but he slaps a hand over your mouth quicker than you can scream. All that escapes is a strangled cry, weak and thin, one that quickly dies out in the entrance hall of his house. It’s much too quiet to reach any neighbors, you realize with a sinking feeling. The last bit of faint hope you harbor in the back of your mind dies when you realize that there’s no concerned housewife coming to check on the commotion, no fumbling child who might stumble in on you and Oikawa. You’re alone. You’re fucked.

He’d made sure of it.

“Bitches like you are so stupid, aren’t you? Making me spell everything out for you.” His voice drips condescension as he yanks you by the hair towards the bedroom. There’s no reason to put up an act anymore, he thinks, so he can be as rough as he wants with his new toy - he just has to make sure he returns you in one piece to Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s sure he won’t mind if you’re a little beat up around the edges, a little used by the end of this.

As he throws you down on the bed, the thought gives him immense satisfaction. You’d been so eager to do things with Iwaizumi - he’d coaxed out embarrassed confessions from his friend over late-night calls - so he’s almost sure that you’re a needy slut during sex.

Of course, you’re not nearly so eager now, not when he’s holding your squirming body down on the bed.

“You do realize that this is what you get, right? It’s your fault for being this fucking easy. Should’ve thought a bit harder about going home with me. Did your mommy and daddy never teach you to not trust men?” he says, face curling into a smile.

You’re unable to get a word out, mouth dry and cottony from the fear that pierces you. He watches your eyes flicker between the bulge in his pants and his face, uncertain and wary, like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa can’t help the sick pleasure that bubbles up within him at the look on your face.

“Please,” you say hoarsely. “Please.”

“You have to use your words, you know. You could be begging me to stop, but I think you like this. I think you’re begging me to get on with it,” he says.

Maybe he’s taking it a step too far with the dramatics, but he can’t bring himself to tone it down - not when he’s right about to get to the good bit, and certainly not when he sees those pretty tears trickling down your face.

He looks you up and down appraisingly. He’d always thought you were rather pretty, with your soft halo of hair and your glittering smile - but he can’t deny that there’s a special sort of charm in the way you fidget uncomfortably under his gaze.

It makes him hungry.

As he spreads your thighs apart, all he can think about is how much he wants to claim you, to ruin you, because that’s what he imagines fucking you is like: ownership and victory spread on his tongue while your juices drench his cock. All the filthy dreams he’s had, every fantasy he’s gotten off to late at night, and the stifling heat spreading through his core is begging him to fuck you, to ravish your tight hole until the only name you know is his own.

He doesn’t really want to bother with prep. He’s sure that stretching you out on three - no, maybe four fingers until you scream would be fun, but you don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. Aren’t sluts like you supposed to be wet all the time anyway?

You can feel the outline of his dick dragging along your soft thighs, pressing close to your cunt, a breathy moan escaping his lips from the friction of his sweatpants grinding against your body. It’s not long before he pulls his cock out all the way and strokes it a few times. He grabs at your hips, maneuvering you like a rag doll, and fits the tip of his cock at your fluttering entrance. Nudging at your hole, he pushes in just the head of his cock - enough so you can feel the sting of his girth, but not nearly deep enough to offer any real relief.

You whine involuntarily, and a grin lights up his face. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he asks, dragging a thumb against your lips. “Is it because Iwa-chan doesn’t fuck you well enough? Is his pathetic dick too small to fill up that hole of yours properly?” he leers. “I’ve seen his cock before… mine’s bigger, you know.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble. You’re dizzy from the fear and panic that clouds your brain, but anger still seeps into your veins at his crude words.

Maybe if your head was a bit clearer, you would’ve realized that only stupid girls talk back.

Oikawa’s hips snap into yours harshly, his cock tearing at your insides, and you let out a strangled gasp. You’re not prepared for how well his cock stretches you out - it’s curved in all the right places, ramming into your cervix, brushing up against your tender g-spot - and as he ruthlessly pounds your frail body into the mattress, your mind blanks, overloaded with sensation. You can’t remember who you are, or why you’re getting fucked. The only thing on your mind is the raw feeling of being cunt split wide open, of having your insides rearranged until you’re a drooling, dumb mess.

“Fuck who?” he asks, shoving two fingers inside your sloppy mouth,

“F- fuck…” you whisper. His fingers are gripping at your hips so tightly you can feel the skin beginning to bruise, and there’s just too much to handle. He’s everywhere; his fingers probe around your mouth, making you gag, and his cock drags along your tender walls until you’re left quivering around his length.

He leans down to kiss at your forehead, his lips brushing tenderly against your hair. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, cooing at you. “You can say it.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper quietly, cheeks burning with shame.

“Good girl,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “I knew you could do it for me.”

Fucking you feels so much better once you’re compliant, he thinks. He slows down a bit, savoring the sensation of your cunt twitching uselessly while you writhe on the bed in pleasure. He feels a sharp jolt of arousal as he looks at the marks he’s left all over you, admiring how the angry bruises on your hips and waist are beginning to purple.

You tug at his shirt, sniffling and crying. “Please,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re asking for anymore, not even sure whether you want Oikawa to stop or continue, but you can’t handle the way he’s slowly fucking you senseless.

He raises an eyebrow. “You want it faster?” he asks cruelly, bouncing you into his cock. There’s no response on your end, but Oikawa thinks he’ll take that as a yes. And if that’s what you want?

Well, that’s what you get.

The hum of pleasure in your core intensifies as he picks up speed again. This time, he angles his cock until it grinds down harshly on your sensitive spot, leaving your legs limp and body helpless as your cunt tightens like a vice. As you shudder from the orgasm that washes over you, he spills into your pussy until your hole is leaking white down your thighs.

You can feel him laughing softly as he pulls out and climbs to rest beside you, leaving you stuck in a pool of your own sweat and cum and. He wipes the remaining cum off of his cock, smearing it on your face, but you barely react. You feel so dirty, so tainted and violated, but you’re not sure you could move even if you tried - his cock has left you boneless and made sure that every square inch of your body is sore and aching.

“Well,” he says, breathless. “Better run home unless you want Iwa-chan to know you’ve been all used up.”

Hajime? Your eyes widen, welling up with tears.

Oikawa unlocks the phone in his hand and presses play.

The sounds that echo through the empty room make you feel like screaming, because there’s no denying the solid, tangible proof that’s being played back. Your breathy moans are clear as day, and it’s unmistakable when you hear yourself begging Oikawa to fuck you harder, faster, to split you apart on his cock.

With a sinking feeling, you know there’s no explanation that would ever satisfy Hajime if he heard this audio. You can already see the pain in his eyes if he were to find out that his best friend for the past twelve years had ruined you, fucked you so thouroughly that you could barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

You don’t want that, you realize miserably. You can’t have that.

“I’m not going to send it,” he says. He sees hope creep into your expression, as if you’re almost daring to believe that you could go back to your normal life after this little session, but he doesn’t feel any pity for you when he speaks again.

“Not if you stay away.”

You and Hajime don’t belong together anyway, so why would he be sorry?

Your eyes drop as you inhale shakily. Oikawa watches you fumble around for your clothing, entertained by the way you trip and stumble as your weak legs attempt to hold you upright. It makes for an awkward, ugly image - but he can’t deny the warm thrill of satisfaction that runs up his spine as you slink out of his bedroom.

He’s finally making things right.

-

When you go to school the next day, you’re glad that you don’t have any classes with Hajime for the first time ever. It makes it easier to avoid him, and you purposely choose to sit as far away as possible from their table in the lunchroom. You don’t bother responding to his messages either, every single text of his sending a bitter jolt of pain through you, and you eventually block his number.

Weeks later, you’re not sure he’d believe you even if you were to explain everything. What would you even say? That you’d been ignoring him and ghosting him because his best friend of twelve years had raped and blackmailed you? That someone he knows and trusts was capable of devastating violence? Oikawa and him seem closer than ever, and you start to wonder at your own stupidity. To think that you could ever get in between a bond as close as theirs - maybe Oikawa was right all along.

You’re walking home alone one day, the hazy late-day sun bathing the roads in a shimmering heat, when you hear footsteps and a voice behind you. Your heart hammers unsteadily, getting ready to run, when you hear three words that make your stomach drop.

“I’ve missed you.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa x reader #haikyuu #yandere x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #yandere #hq x reader #hq yandere #iwaizumi x reader #tw.noncon #tw.blackmail #tw.manipulation #lin.n*fw #tw.dc

[iovchlde]

childe x a reader who works with kids? maybe like a teacher?

you really have a way with kids.

teucer doesn’t really like most of the teachers at the school, to which childe feels apologetic because he often has to stick back after school. he likes one teacher though— you— and after seeing the teacher for himself, he thinks he likes them too.

in which childe thinks his brother’s teacher is cute.

pairing.

childe x gn!reader

genre.

fluff

author’s note.

so like— someone make an in depth series of this please. the problem with not being able to write slow burn but absolutely loving to read it 😔✋

it’s becoming late, something you note to yourself when you look out the window, as the sky is now an ombre of blues and reds and oranges. you’d been so absorbed in grading papers that you’d failed to check the time— the clock now indicating that it was almost four post meridiem. a sigh escapes past your lips as you straighten your back, relishing in the feel after sitting in a crouched position for so long. it’s hard to maintain proper posture when you’re bored out of your mind. “two more papers to go,” you mutter to yourself. “and then i can finally leave.”

the room is dead silent so when you hear a creak from the door across the room, you look up in curiosity to see teucer peeking his head in. he hasn’t noticed you, as you’re hidden behind the clutter that covers your desk, and he’s looking around in hopes of spotting his peers. noticing that there was no one else, his lips tug into a small frown. you blink in surprise, looking back at the clock to make sure that you weren’t mistaken. but alas, it really was that late. halting your pace of work, you drop the pen in your hand and you stand up from your chair.

“hi teucer.” you call out to him, and he jumps from being startled, not quite expecting someone else to be in the room. teucer turns his head to look at you from his awkward position at the door frame, slightly struggling to keep the huge door open, and you motion for him to come in. silently, he shuffles through the door with his hands wrapped tightly around the straps of his backpack, and he flashes a smile towards your way. “what are you doing here so late?”

at the question, the smile on his lips immediately fall. teucer looks down and twirls his foot on the floor, his voice quiet as he speaks. “my brother is really busy with his job, and he hasn’t come to pick me up yet. i came to see if my friends were still here, but there’s no one else left.” your heart twinges at the tone he uses— dejected and downcast. mentally, you scold yourself for asking such an obvious question, but you can’t really take your words back.

you hum, walking towards the boy and crouching in front of him. “then, let’s do something fun to pass the time, shall we? how about drawing— do you like drawing?” his head immediately perks up the suggestion, and he nods vigorously as if to say yes.

“i have the perfect thing for drawing,” teucer exclaims. he pulls the backpack off of his shoulders, opening a big pocket and rummaging through it. it takes a second for him to find what he’s looking for, but he lets out a proud, “aha!”, as he finds it. excitedly, he fishes out a big pack of crayons, showing them off to you. a satisfied feeling blooms within you, glad that he’s no longer as gloomy as before.

you gasp. “is that a pack of sixty-four crayons?” he grins, nodding again. “well, i have the perfect thing for that too.” from your crouching position, you get up and walk towards your cabinet— the one filled with new and unused materials. yanking out one of the drawers, you take out a fresh sketchpad, and you place it on a desk closest to you. all the chairs were placed on the desks, a thing the school would ask of students to do as they pack up from their last class of the day. taking a hint, teucer rushes over and brings down two chairs.

“i wanna draw my big brother, and give it to him when he comes to pick me up.” teucer holds a determined look on his face as he says those words, and you can’t help but chuckle at his admirable love for his brother. ripping off a piece of paper from the sketchbook, you hand it to him, which he accepts gratefully. he wastes no time in unpacking his crayons, picking out some peachy color, and leaving the box on the table. “what will you be drawing, ms. y/n?”

you hadn’t actually thought of drawing, simply coming up with the distraction on the spot to cheer him up. subconsciously, you look to the side as you think of an answer. “i’ll draw flowers,” you say, and he smiles, going back to his piece of paper.

if you were to give an estimate on how much time has passed, you’d say that about fifteen minutes had gone by since you’d first started drawing. you finished early on, drawing two simple lilies onto the paper, and simply sitting comfortably on the chair. or at least, as comfortable as it can get for an adult sitting on elementary-student-sized chairs. it’s not for another five minutes that teucer finally speaks up from his concentration.

“finished!” the boy beside you exclaims, holding up his drawing proudly. on the paper is a stick figure, the hair that covers its head is ginger-colored, and it has a loopy smile drawn as its face. it’s charming, and it has a message written beside it.“you’re the best big brother!”, the little note reads out. (he used the wrong “you’re”, but you decide not to comment on it given that it’s after school hours.)

little did you know, teucer’s older brother is observing you two from the door. his arms are crossed over his chest, and a soft expression is evident on his face as watches the interaction between the two of you. teucer had always beamed about you to him— talking about how amazing of teacher you were, and how kind you were. “you really look up to your brother, don’t you?” you comment, while analyzing his picture more.

“of course i do,” teucer avows, answering to you almost immediately, no hint of hesitation within his voice. his little hands are always curled up into little fists as he praises his brother, his voice going up a few octaves than it normally is. “he’s really busy, but whenever he’s not, he makes sure to make it up to me. on my birthdays, he gives me really big presents, and he takes me out to parks as well. he’s the best, isn’t he?”

“i think your brother seems like an admirable man.” you comment. “but, you’re also a good brother too, you know? you care for him a lot, and i think that matters just as much.”

“really?”

childe’s gaze is soft as he watches the two of you talk, impressed by how cheery his brother was around you. it’s not often that teucer stays back and actually enjoys it. he hated to ruin the moment, but you’re interrupted as there’s a cough heard from the doorway, and you see a ginger-haired man leaning on the door frame. his looks are uncanny to those of teucer’s— boyish and smiley. must be his older brother.

quite cute too, but you brush off the thought.

the two of you make eye contact for the briefest of moments, but from those few seconds, you can see there’s a hint of penitence swirling in his eyes. the forgiving smile you return is barely noticeable, but he catches onto it with keen eyes. “sorry to keep you waiting, buddy.” he apologizes to teucer, before redirecting his gaze towards you. “i’m sorry you had to stay back and take care of him— though from what i can see, you really have a way with kids, ms. y/n. teucer here wasn’t wrong when he said you’re a really cool person.”

he gets off the door frame, now walking into the room and closer to teucer. the latter runs over to him immediately, sticking to his side. “mhm! ms. y/n is the best teacher.”

“see? teucer says so himself. you truly live up to the stories he’s told about you.”

you snort, shaking your head. picking up teucer’s items for him, you start walking towards the two. “being good with kids is part of the job description, you know? i’d be a bad teacher if i didn’t know how to handle them.” you say as you hand the bag and drawing to him. for a second, the tips of his hand grazes yours, before he promptly picks the items from your hand. “and he tells stories about me?”

“all the time,” he exaggerates, and teucer playfully pushes his arms. “teucer seems miserable around every other teacher, so they must be considered bad teachers by your definition.” he teases, and you flush at his words.

“oh,” you say as your eyes widen, “i don’t mean in that—” just as you’re about to protest against his words, he cuts in.

“joking, joking. anyways, we should really get going. i’ve already wasted enough of your time, as is— will i be seeing you around more often, ms. y/n?” he asks, and there’s a cheeky look to his eyes as he says those words, staring right at you. “y’know, for when i pick teucer up from school.”

you smile back, more obvious this time. “of course.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #childe fluff