#i was kind of dancing around shading it for the whole week but finally. i got it over with…and in one night would you look at that…

[ofjunemoment]

let me teach you how to smash | park jisung

In the list of sports, ranked from most to least sexy, badminton would be found at the very bottom if not ranked last. But why is it that when Jisung plays the with a feathered shuttle your heart flutters? 

 OR: Jisung helps you improve your badminton skills. 

 pairing — badminton player!jisung x fem!reader 

 genre — sports!au, university!au, (one sided) enemies to friends to lovers, slight slow burn 

 wc — 22k (😀 huh)

content — university/sports class setting, humour, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst,  idols mentioned, very heavy on the dialogue/backstory at one point sorry babies <3, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags — making out, fingering, switch!jisung and reader (there's no strong dynamic tbh), protected sex, pet names (jisung gets called a good boy), lmk if I missed anything!

 a/n — YAYYY i can finally share this with u guys!! i have been cooking this for some time and im actually so excited to release it!! I'm a badminton enthusiast so I went a bit ham on the descriptions and back story sorry (not rlly),, I hope this is a good readdd I read through it so much to fix it up and now Im a bit sick of it oops BUT its a story I've been wanting to write so here you go <3 enjoy!

sfw version here!

You enjoy sports. 

You liked dancing sometimes — which is certainly a type of sport  — and you dabbled with different sports at one point in school, but you don’t actively go out of your way to do any intense exercise. It can be sweaty and painful and maybe it’s a little like hitting the gym, but in most sports you need sportsmanship, and why would you be kind to the person who not only won but is rubbing it in your face? 

You once yelled at Taeyong for kicking the ball in the wrong goal when your group of friends went out of their way to play makeshift soccer to bring back memories. You yelled, at precious Taeyong, who flinches at the sight of a fly

Okay, so you tolerate sports.

But in an effort to have your resume look pretty after finishing your degree, your friend Juda had shed light on this one program that has you do a bunch of extracurricular activities and in turn, you’ll gain extra credit. Seamless and effortless, you didn’t need to pay anything towards the program as most of the work was volunteering; like reading to kids or helping clean up lecture rooms now and then. What Juda failed to mention was the other extracurricular required of you, which was to go to a sporting class set up by the university.

Sporting classes; two hours a week minimum.

They were kind enough to provide you with options, but it still wasn't easy to choose whether you wanted two whole hours of HIIT fitness or football, which caused you to almost give up on the whole thing. Until you saw the word ‘badminton’ printed in the faintest ink, almost as if it was a mistake.

So here you are, in the campus’ sports equipment shop with Chenle, looking through what seems like badminton rackets.

“Do you think this is good?” You pick up a racket that has a mix of matte white and mint around the frame, with the string sporting the shade black, testing the weight in your hand. 

“That’s a tennis racket stupid.” He goes to ruffle your hair but instead gets his hand slapped away and a frown etched on his face as you scoff at him. “I knew that,”  You scowl.

“Well then don’t be an asshole about it, asshole.”

“I wasn’t being—” Both of you jump at a sudden sound that pitched in between your shoulders, as your hand flies to your chest in shock while Chenle’s eyebrow hitch up.

“Sorry?” It was Chenle who said that to the person who snuck up behind you two, his arms crossing defensively and landing on his left chest, as he positions himself subtly a little closer to you, almost as if he’s instinctively shielding him.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you; I just came to ask if you guys needed help with anything?” It was when the employee raised her ID card that was hanging on a white lanyard around her neck that Chenle’s defence began to soften as you brought your hand down, replacing the confused look on your faces with one of realisation.

“Ahh, uhm, I was wondering if you could recommend a badminton racket, nothing too fancy, maybe something to last a good two years.”

“Two years?” Chenle was the one that turned to you with a look of disbelief. The employee merely smiled and gestured her hands towards the very other side of the store and quickly turned to guide you.

“Hold on, you’re doing this stupid thing for two years? Half of your courses years? You’re just gonna voluntarily stress yourself with even more work?”

“ . . . Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, that’s my main intention. That’s why I joined this program. You’ve asked me multiple times like I’m going to miraculously change my mind and thank you for it like you’re a rich person, giving me, a homeless person, a piece of bread and then barely look at me as you record the whole thing for your livestream.” You huff while going to lie down on your back on the floor around your newly bought badminton equipment; a set of badminton rackets and some cylinder packets full of shuttlecocks, the feather ones because the plastic ones suck ass, the employee had smiled at you.

You sit up just as quickly as a dull pain shoots up your back. The motherfucking shuttlecocks.

“That’s one way to make up an analogy,” Chenle’s eyes land on the shuttlecock you had freshly crushed, now looking all squashed and disoriented. Poor thing didn’t even last a minute.

“What’s she moping about this time?” Juda’s voice echoed from the door as she places the tote bag she had brought down next to the shoe shelf.

“I’m not moping; I never mope. What do I even look like when I mope?”

“She’s just crying about the fact that she has to do this thing program for another two years.” His words elicit a shout and the gradual flinging of a nearby couch pillow from you. Chenle’s neck cracked as the pillow hit his head downwards.

“Did I kill him yet,” You voiced your disinterest, sitting up on your elbows briefly to analyse Chenle’s face before giving up and laying back down. Chenle stayed in that position for a while before getting up in a fury, ready to avenge you. Juda stopped him with a kick to his leg. 

“Such disrespectful words, is it hard to show some courtesy around here?�� You huff and go to lie down once more, not before feeling around the surface for any stray shuttlecock.

“When it comes to you, yes,” Juda throws Chenle a Yakult, and she flings you one straight at your stomach. You attempt not to flinch.

“Here’s to either two more years of moping about this stupid badminton class every week, or two months of hardcore whining from both of you until you break and drop out.” Juda raises her Yakult bottle and clinks it with yours — that’s still on your stomach — and against Chenle’s who was drinking out of it the moment she did so, spilling what little there was of it on his face. Chenle recovers and yells out offensively, causing Juda to squeal as she stands up and goes behind the couch, using it as her shield. 

You inhale and try to tune them out.

Chenle smiles as you giggle at him, the loud music of EDM mixed with Kidz bop playing in the background as the sound of metal basketball hoop clanging echoes just enough for it to have a rhythm. He looks determined to beat the high score of this stupid basketball game, as Juda and you take turns watching him play the game and criticising his moves, even when none of you know much about basketball as he does. It’s been a few weeks since the start of the semester and hence, the beginning of your program. The kids you read to are either sleepy or disinterested as you start early in the morning, and the cleaning of lecture rooms is bearable at most times. 

So things are going great at this point.

That was until Chenle called out to you: “How’s badminton going?” and, you’re not gonna lie, that did dampen your mood just by a bit, but you give your best attempt at masking it and smiling through; you didn’t want them to pick up on the fact that it’s been one lesson and you’re already sick and tired of it (or, at least sick and tired of one certain person). But Juda’s just too smart and catches on too easily with anything that you and Chenle try to brush under the rug. She raises one eyebrow at you before retorting: “What, are you whinging about it already?”

“Am not!”

“Then what is it?” Juda says at the same time that Chenle swears, a little too loud for a kids arcade, but it’s around 8 PM and the only kids that are here probably do some sort of drug or something if they have parents who allow them to be out this late.

“Nothing, okay? The coach is great and the other people who are there are fine too, and I actually learnt a lot —”

“But?” Juda’s lips are pink as she wraps them around a straw poking out from her slushie cup. You lean back in retaliation, back pressed against the basketball machine as you try to find a leeway.

“. . . But.”

You’re late. And you can’t even use the excuse that you woke up late because it’s seven p.m. and you’ve scoffed down your early dinner two hours ago. You simply decided to just procrastinate to the next level in an attempt to gauge if you truly want to continue with this program or not. But now here you are, on a bus that’s severely delayed due to the evening traffic and running frantically to make it to class on time.

Minkyung is a 50-year-old dad who coaches this class; he was also at the office where you had submitted your form for the program, and was over the moon that you had decided to try out his class, hence asking you questions about your knowledge of badminton, and went on this spiel when you had made the mistake of being truthful. 

He now looks at you with a kind and wrinkly smile as your shoes squeak against the floor, one hand to your rib in an attempt to not show how much out of breath you were. “Don’t worry,” his voice was quiet enough for you to register only. “You arrived on time, I just finished the information briefing that you heard from me some time ago.” His smile was tight-lipped but genuine. Trying to even out your breathing, you set down your equipment and quickly join the rest in a circle. A clap echoes throughout the quiet hall as the coach drops his hands and clears his throat while letting out a puff of air, his eyes grazing by everyone’s heads in what you assume to be his way of counting the participants of the class.

“Glad to have everyone here today, I hope with this class you guys would not only learn about badminton but also be able to learn about its sportsmanship and benefits,” His eyes dart around the rather small circle. You expected the hall to be filled with as many students as that one Zumba class you were forced to attend in high school, but it was a rather tame class. 

The coach hums, thinking about something deeply as the other students shuffle around, shifting their weight from side to side in the silence engulfing the court. He looked up and clapped again softer this time. “I’ve decided to treat you like my children’s class.” He concluded, “I want you guys to introduce yourself to each other. Now don’t be shy; everyone's new in this class. Maybe you can find a friend in this class to learn better and more quicker. Okay, let’s start with you.” He pointed towards a guy that was to his left, who looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked around and smiled sheepishly yet brightly. “My name’s Haechan, and uh, I’m 22?” He finished it off with bound lips as he refers to the person after him to begin. 

And as you all finish introducing yourselves to each other, with a girl named Minji being last, the introductory circle ends, meaning the coach can now start the stretching and warm-up exercises. But he hasn’t. 

“Uh, coach, are we gonna—?” Minji stopped halfway as the coach whips his head to look at the gigantic clock on the wall next to the hall’s equally huge entrance. You crane your head curiously towards the direction of his vision, straining both your ears and vision to see what he was looking for, as everyone around you catches on and seems to do the same. It isn’t long after till the squeaking of shoes against the rubber ground echoes throughout; soon enough, the coach screams ‘fourteen minutes!’ as another person steps into the hall, wide eyes darting around everyone as he swallows in an attempt to simmer down his erratic breathing. As the guy's breathing evens out enough for him to probably mutter an apology, your breathing picks up.

“First day and you’ve already fallen for someone? Very on brand for you,”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You scramble to hit Chenle with his golden pokemon card folder he brought to the arcade. Juda calmly stops you using her right hand, as her left hand picks up her drink to take another sip from. 

“She didn’t even finish her story, Chenle. Go on,” Juda set her slushy down as her grip loosens from around your wrist, signalling to continue the story.

“Thank you, Juda, for you’re my favourite of them all—”

“Are you gonna finish your story?” Her grip tightened.

“A-as I was saying,”

You like to analyse people to some extent, thinking about how body language is cool and how it can depict everyone's different life, contrasting drastically from one another yet sometimes being so similar even with all of our different circumstances. This is why you tried analysing everyone in your class of busy people attempting to hit the shuttlecock in a streak longer than ten, as your eye flitting around the court and landing on your next target, the new guy, simply because that’s in your nature.

(“In your nature? Or was it just the mysterious guy that came into the class so suddenly, panting and out of bre—“

“Shut up? Anyway,” )

“Ah Jisung, this is the latest you’ve been,” The coach nodded innocently towards the guy, as if he hadn’t scared the piss out of all of you when he shouted.

He’s a bit stiff with his walk, and his shoulders seem to harden like a board when his eyes scan around the class and its participants. With wide eyes, he looks like a lost puppy with the way he looks back at the coach in some sort of silent confirmation of something. It’s probably his first time having a general class with coach Minkyung, you realise as you see Jisung bow sheepishly to his teacher.

“Sorry,” his voice was hushed, rumbling as he talked. His eyes scanned briefly once again across the now sparked class doing forehand and backhand practices that the teacher has instructed them to do. You locked eye contact with him from afar and quickly looked away, ears feeling a little bit hotter than it was a second before.

Soojin leans in towards you and Ryujin a bit and whispers, “Do you think he’s new? Like . . . All of us?”

You and Ryujin glance at each other for a quick second, before you smile profusely as Ryujin places her hands on the pole that holds the badminton net, her racket clenched fist supporting her chin as she ponders. “Not at all.” She says rather flatly, a cheeky smile following up after. Solely looking at him doesn’t give you any insights on his level of badminton playing, which is weird, because till now he could pick up on some people's skills; you’ve so far guessed correctly with a few of the participants (including yourself, you think you’re an average player in this class) so you feel a bit stumped. 

He stands stiff as he talks to the coach, keeping his gaze stern on his coach. He seems to be wearing normal trackies and only has a very slim back for his racket. 

“He’s obviously a beginner, his bag is so thin compared to Coach and even Haechan, he also doesn’t look like a long-time player” Jaemin pipes in.

“Who are you to say? You said you’ve been playing for how long and you’re still this bad?” Soojin smiles as she dodges Jaemin’s hand by a fraction. But Ryujin isn’t having any of it as she breathes in with her teeth clenched, hissing out a sound of suspicion.

“Coach seems to know him, which makes me think he’s either been here before, or he’s just the coach's nepotism offspring.”

“Okay!” The coach claps his hand, forcing everyone to act like they were practising. “Gather around; we’re gonna do a basic skills test for this lesson, then I’m gonna split you up into groups and we’ll get to work with the people with the same skills. Cool?” He throws two thumbs up as everyone stays silent, with one of the two people nodding. You watch as he sees the coach's enthusiasm die down a little.

“Cool?” The coach had yelled now, startling everyone else in the second round of heart attacks; everyone else yell back this time, the word ‘cool’ echoing around the grand sports court. You notice that everyone’s responded to the coach's request except for Jisung.

“Oh girl . . .” Juda now has her manicured hand placed on your sulked shoulder of realisation.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Juda.” You look into the distance of the arcade, feigning sorrow; or maybe it’s not much of a feign.

“The fuck,” Chenle turns to see both of you huddled in what looks like a cry fest. “Did someone fucking die?”

“Watch your tongue,” An old woman wearing a neon orange vest belonging to the arcade staff points at Chenle, who bows down as he murmurs ‘sorry’, with you two trying your best not to laugh, following and bowing your heads down too when the seething woman’s eyes meet your figures.

“How dare you anger the poor lady, her blood pressure is probably already high enough,” Juda picks at Chenle, who is now quietly trying to slip in the token to play another round.

“I wouldn’t have if you guys didn’t just suddenly go emo for no reason. What the f—” Chenle’s eyes waver back and see the woman’s eyes (Are they naturally red? Or is it the arcade lighting?) glaring back at him once more. “Frick. What the frick happened.”

“Oh Chenle, we must mourn for her. She’s fallen for another mysterious guy who barely has any personality.” 

“Oh my god,”

“Oh my fucking god, what—”

“Fuck,” Jisung sighed when he missed the shuttlecock by just a hair's width. Everyone was standing in a line-like formation, at the tip of their toes against the line that made the distinction between the playing court and outside. Jisung and the coach were having a match, the first test that the coach had implemented to determine who goes into what group according to their skills, and when no one volunteered, Jisung silently centred himself on the court as the coach's face broke out into a glow. 

Although his face was adorned with wrinkles even when still, and his skin did seem to look just a smidge pruney all the time — the I’m growing old look he had on his face was impossible to miss — the coach’s never looked sharper and younger than he does now, zipping through his side of the court like a bees race. Jisung on the other hand, seems to have a calm demeanour, quietly and tranquilly stepping forward and back, delivering lobs and clears, limbs outstretched to effortlessly hit the shuttlecock back even if it seems that his position doesn’t allow such moves. 

In the cold of Autumn, the stiffness of everyone's bodies was just the tiniest bit evident after a round of stretching, but two right in front of you look as if they’re playing in the heat of the summer, arms and legs effortlessly moving around the court. You try not to look too intently into the thin glisten of sweat forming on Jisung's neck.

Soojin raises her hand without taking her eyes off of the two people playing intensively in front of her, as Jaemin reaches in his pockets to place ten thousand won into her open palm, not letting his gaze wander away from the game either. “Thank you for your service.”

“I can’t believe he’s that good, I should’ve known from his cocky demeanour.” Haechan sighs, his fist resting against his cheek, hoisted up by his other hand. Everyone looks in his direction.

“You would think that it takes one to know one,” Minji almost barely whispers as she looks away from him by her side, looking back at the game with everyone else following. 

“Ah, fine. You won.” Coach drops his racket down from its first stage position, going towards the net with an open palm. Jisung barely takes a step forward before he’s lifting his hand too, shaking hands over the net as everyone claps behind them.

“Okay then, who’s next?”

You spend half the lesson just like that, with everyone playing against the coach followed by him then instructing everyone to get into the key badminton positions. You suspect that this is the core of learning badminton as the coach guides you from the way you hold your racket to the way your feet are positioned, but all you’re really thinking about right now is how badly you just want to go home.

“Okay!” The coach claps, as people gather around him in a semi-breathless state, just from being told to carry out a few sets of actions that badminton has. You don’t know why badminton necessarily needs ladder crossovers, but you barely get to give out a sigh before your eyes catch on Jisung’s seemingly calm composure. He’s done so much and maybe even a round extra, but he’s barely breaking a sweat.

Why does he look so good? Show off.

“Believe it or not, we’re done already! I now have an understanding of what level each one of you is in and will put you into groups.” You keep trying to wipe at your face to keep the sweat away, but an even coat of sweat is now settled on your hand after wiping it many times, so it only feels like you’re spreading it evenly. 

All while mysterious Jisung barely lifts his shoulder to have the cloth of his shirt wipe away the bead at his temple. 

How utterly gross of him. You wonder if he’s single.

“So I will see you all next week and give your level, thanks for joining!” And everyone disperses, spreading around the hall to get to their bags and start packing. You are standing above your bag, packing it and taking your bottle out to take a sip when you see Minji and Soojin whisper shouting, which defeats the whole point of whispering in the first place.

“How much do you wanna guess that he eats and sleeps here?” Soojin is practically bouncing in her place, taking multiple obvious glances at Jisung’s figure, who’s seemingly roaming around in his bag instead of packing it like everyone else, his racket placed neatly on top of his bag instead of inside.

“Nothing, because at this point it almost seems like a fact.” And with that, you shoulder your bag and head for the door, too tired to function.

“And you have no muscle aches? Impressive.” Juda pipes, her eyes glued to the road as she drives them back home.

“Oh no, I do. I just plastered a few KT tapes.” You say from your position in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the rolled-down window with your hand against your forehead, getting a nice breather from the wind outside. Chenle who’s sitting in the middle reaches his hand forward and pulls your sleeve up from behind to reveal your arm and shoulder lined up with tapes of blue and green. 

“A few huh,” Juda smiles and Chenle retorts, as you tch at them both. 

“I didn’t want to risk it, okay?” You say, yanking the cloth back down and slapping at Chenle’s hand, facing forward once again with your hands crossed defensively and gaze set outside again. The car lights up in the yellow of the street lights, as Juda drives through the night. 

“So when’s your next class?”

“And group A has . . . Jisung. Just Jisung”

“No, bad dog. Stop taking your anger out on Chenle’s biceps,” Juda attempted half-assedly to swat at your hands while her eyes were still glued to her phone, as you retell what happens with your next class.

“It hurts, Juda. Make her stop!”

You were furious. Group C? You knew you were better than that, having played almost every other sport growing up, even if occasionally, you’d gotta be good at badminton. Why is Jisung the only one in group A? Yes, fine, maybe he plays well, but it also means that you’ve been ranked down a group just because he was too perfect. Why does he attend the class if he’s already so good?

Subconsciously, you try to convince yourself to not take this whole grouping thing quite literally, as the coach had said that they’re not ranked or anything; but how can you not take it personally when the people you thought you were on par with were in group B. It takes all of your willpower for your scowl to not be displayed, but you soon find that you don’t have to try too hard as the coach assigns you all to your positions.

“Lighter on the feet,” Coach ordered, the squeak of shoe soles rubbing against the floor echoing throughout the sports hall. You, Soojin, Jaemin and Minji go through what the coach calls fundamental steps; right foot northeast with a forehand flick, right foot northwest with a backhand flick. It helps with the basics of the game, which everyone forgets, but you don’t think half an hour of the same steps helps with remembering either.

While group B, which consists of Haechan and Ryujin, go through the same phases with some extra steps added to strengthen their posture while playing. It’s not that you think your play better than the people in your group or group B, but mainly your irrational annoyance stems from the fact that you’re position in the class is gonna be recorded into your progress report, and you know for a fact that if Jisung wouldn’t be participating this dead class, you would be in group B. Yes, it’s still the last group out of two, but you can say that you’re merely ranked second. Instead, you’re last out of three.

As the steps turn repetitive, you let your eyes wander around mindlessly, your feet carrying you throughout as your hands attempt to do the actions in a somewhat muscle memory process. Your gaze eventually settles on Jisung, whose back is facing you as he smacks the shuttlecock against the wall, which bounces back only for him to smack at it again, repeating this one-man game he seems to have made up for himself. You glare lasers into his back, thinking about how maybe you’re not into this whole mysterious demeanour as you thought you were, seeing him just making up his own moves as the coach merely bounces back between the two of your groups, only checking in on Jisung after a few rounds of lecturing your moves and correcting your mistakes. 

Three consecutive claps echo around the tall indoor court, as everyone drops their rackets at their bags and gather around the coach in a circle, somewhat holding some sort of formation with Ryujin to his right and Jisung to his left, and with you positioned almost opposite of him. “Good job everyone, now it’s time to cool down, exactly how we warmed up,” Clueless, most of you follow the coach’s steps while he urges each person to take turns counting, counting up to eight in a clockwise direction. Your eyes can’t stop fleeting to Jisung, the star of every badminton night, as your petty envy prevents you from minding your own business. Throughout the whole night, you’ve seen him take only warming up and cooling down somewhat seriously, as he crosses his arms and holds up a good posture, compared to the rest of the class who simply just slump over, wanting the session to end and finally catch a break. 

One final clap and you’re all free to go. And you don’t waste a second, grabbing all your essentials and bag and quickly darting for the door, ready to go home and wash up and just not support your whole body weight on your feet. As you bid everyone goodbye and bow your head lightly to the coach, you watch as Jisung strides up to the coach in a meek manner, as his eyes fall on your retreating figure just slightly before softly calling out the coach's name. 

It’s nine p.m. on the dot when you step out of the court and breathe in the cold air.

Juda’s on the couch when you step into the apartment, toeing off your sports shoes as you rest your badminton bag against the shoe shelf, at hand for your next trip to your class. 

With a mouth full of chips, Juda barely takes her eyes off the screen before asking “How was class?”

“Same old,” You shrug.

“Same old? You’ve only been twice. How in tune are you with the coach for it to—” Your groan stops her teasing, as she smirks at your tired form squatting against the floor, hands clutching at the door and your hair in frustration.

“Could you have at least let me get home first before frying my brain?” Your hand falls to your face, and that’s when you feel the residue of your sweat from earlier, having turned into oil. The urge to shower now tenfold, you attempt to raise yourself and pass out in the shower.

“I’m gonna wash up now, and probably go to sleep,” You mutter just loud enough for Juda to hear, to which she hums while you retrieve a towel.

“Oh wait, before you go,” She calls just as you inch towards your room, “Do you know where my umbrella went? I’m going to campus tomorrow and I think it’s gonna rain again. I tried calling you but I don’t think it went through,” 

“Oh yeah, It’s by the door.” You recall taking the umbrella to class today, as the forecast has been filled with rain symbols with the Autumn weather. Digging in your bag, you push past your essentials in order to find your phone which Juda’s called. “That’s weird, my phone is not here.”

“Did you take it with you today?” Juda mumbles as she munches on a few more chips, rubbing her fingers against her pants after every serving. 

“I’m sure I did,” You ponder out loud, as you remove your hands from your bag in favour of patting at your pants and jacket resting on the clothing hanger, in case you somehow shoved it in your pockets without knowing.

“Did you forget it?” As soon as the words leave your roommate's mouth, you are met with a vivid picture of your phone, abandoned on the bench in the badminton court you left in a hurry. You sigh, placing your towel on the bathroom counter briefly before grabbing your house keys while putting your shoes on.

“I’ll be back Juda,”

“Good luck,” She waves.

You’re beyond tired, and a little frustrated at yourself for being impatient and forgetting your phone. You can’t risk losing such a thing, hence you’re glad that the lights were still on when you arrived at the building, giving a wave to the receptionist. 

Stepping onto the court, you immediately zero in on your phone which is perched on the bench, the black shade of the screen a contrast against the silver metal bar. But a squeak of a sole against the floor earns a squeal out of your mid-march, as you clutch your shirt next to your heart and turn towards the perpetrator.

“Oh my god,” Jisung’s gaze is what you’re met with as you let out a sigh of relief, the man in question only turning around as you mutter under your breath. 

“Sorry,” That’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all day, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that calms your heart down just a bit.

“What are you still doing here?” Your curiosity gets the best of you, your forgotten phone laying there, continuing to be overlooked as you question the presence of your classmate.

His eyes squint ever so slightly at your question, as his eyes ghost over you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I’m practising,”

Practising? After two hours of badminton class, he didn’t seem like he did much then, but he’s still staying back to practice. You hum in slight adulation, rocking back and forth on your feet as he turns back around and runs through steps you’re unfamiliar with. As you inch towards your phone, you think more about his prominent presence in the court; is he too shy in class? Or maybe he gets private classes from the coach?

But as you scan your eyes around the court, you’re met with a near-empty court, as the only thing in sight is his bottle and slim bag. You’re not sure exactly what you’re waiting for as you hold onto your phone, fidgeting on your spot as your eyes follow Jisung’s swift movements. He seems more tired now than he ever was in the two classes you’ve shared with him, as his shoulders ride up more with an attempt of regaining stability with his breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’ve loitered around, but it must be a long amount of time for Jisung to look at you with disdain and shock.

“. . . Why are you still here?” He seems more reserved — something you didn’t know could happen — as he asks you this question, holding his racket subconsciously closer to his body. Your eyes widen at the prospect of being caught, as you shake your hands vehemently, stumbling back a bit. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” You didn’t know how you were going to explain yourself, but one glance at the door of the court is all you need.

Bowing your head as quickly as you can in a lieu of a goodbye, Jisung could barely apprehend what you did before you’re bolting out of the badminton court.

A week later, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to face Jisung with your awkward encounter, and it is evident that the incident has been plaguing your mind as you stand at the door of the sports centre, both hands gripping the strap do your bag. 

“What if he thinks I’m a weirdo for just standing there and stalking him?” Your wandering mind does nothing to help ease the situation, as more arbitrary scenarios flow after one another. Maybe he told the coach how much of a creep you are and now when you step in, you’ll be banned from class.

“Oh dear god,” You let your head fall forwards, trying to tip over the thought out of your head. Closing your eyes, you try to think of the things you can do once the class is over when a tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie. You turn to look behind your shoulder, fearing that it's someone robbing you or worse— Jisung; only to see coach Son, smiling at you with a hint of worry laced on his forehead. 

Your shoulders sag with relief. “Hi coach,” you wince internally at your response, voice coming out high-pitched as you clench your grip on your bag. 

“Let's go in and start some warm-ups, yeah?” And as you follow the coach to the class, you make sure to subtly hide behind him in case you catch s glimpse of Jisung anywhere, not wanting to run into him. As you quietly peek your head over his right shoulder once and his left shoulder next, you feel like a secret agent sneaking up on your target. A clearing of someone's throat snaps you out of your act, as your shoulders bunch up and in shock and you quickly turn, only to be met with the feared man of the night.

It seems like he’s been trying to go up to the coach and maybe say hi, but your lurking figure both stopped and perplexed him, not knowing why you were just peeking your head around like a mole rat.

“Sorry,” You mumble slightly, eyes wide as you back away towards the closest wall, wanting to blend into it and live with the bricks. Maybe you’ll face less embarrassment that way but knowing you, anything is possible.

“It’s okay,” His voice is as unassuming as always, eyes looking anywhere but you now that he’s caught your attention. You think his shyness is quite cute, but not for long as you think back to being scared of him from last week to being jealous of him, also from last week. That’s a lot of emotion for you to process. 

He pulls up his hands, now shaped into a fist and looks past you, but you know he’s talking to you when he mutters, “Fighting,” before fully facing away and walking past you as if the mortification of his action has caught up to him. You barely contain your shocked expression behind your hand.

“Good job today guys, now we all have a basic grasp of the initial steps and our skills when it comes to badminton.” You brace your hands on your knees, just having done a set of wall squats as a way to build stamina, or so you’ve been told. You thought that maybe a month into these classes and you would’ve had some sort of energy stashed away in you when attending class, but it’s week five and you’re fighting for your life three seconds into a plank.

“Now I don’t wanna treat this class academically, but for those of you who truly care, there will be an assessment in the midst of this course to reevaluate your standing and see if you can advance from your group! But other than that, remember that this class can be solely for fun reasons too . . .” The rest of coach's words were white noise to your ears. Reevaluation? Does that mean that you can advance? That you’ll have a shot? 

“Are you okay?” Soojin leans in toward you, whispering while pointing to what you assume would be the shock on your face. You turn to her, drawing a thumbs up to reassure her. And before you know it class is done and you’re pulled to do a series of cool-down moves. You eagerly follow through, now somehow charged with motivation to stay back and go over your moves a few times. You figure that the least you can do to move up a rank is to spend an extra hour going over your moves, even when you sometimes think about the significance of them.

You tread up to the coach and ask in your kindest voice if it was possible for you to stay back. “Of course, are you gonna go through the steps again?” He questions as he shifts his bag from one hand to another. You give a nod and wave goodbye, watching as everyone litters out of the court.

Well, almost everyone.

You can feel, more than anything, Jisung’s gaze piercing your figure through the hood of his jumper, while you give your best attempt at stretching. You’re not sure really what stretches best help with reducing the ache in your muscles the day after, but you figure the endeavour of reaching your toes should do.

Even after a few minutes of trying to appear mellow, Jisung’s presence alone makes you feel on edge as if you’ve stolen his territory. But you figure that nothing will change and that all you can really do right now is, well, practice.

The squeak of your shoes echoes every now and then, followed by a whip sound of the racket you’re flinging in the air. If you do this quickly enough, surely your skills will improve, right? From what your coach Son demonstrated earlier, you realised that as he would start off the steps slowly for your group to get a hang of, he was able to transition the speed to his liking, doing each step quickly and efficiently. 

“Okay, should be easy,” You’re careful not to speak too loud in the almost quiet hall, giving yourself words of encouragement. Hand braced in the first position, then in the second, then a slight step back, and then your hand straight and quickly bend.

You finish the routine with its final step of hitting the imaginary shuttle as fast and as straight as your hand can go with such speed. With one round done, you brace yourself in the initial position to do it again. One, two, three and four.

You only get to pump out four, maybe five rounds of this pattern before a clearing of someone's throat scares the daylights out of you. With a barely contained shout, you’d forgotten — however briefly — that you weren’t alone. You’re looking at Jisung, who seems shocked at accidentally shaking you up so much, before he says something to you.

“What?” Even with the stillness of the court, the man’s words were barely comprehensible, as yours echoed slightly throughout the court. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Oh, so the first comment he ever mutters to you are words of criticism. You furrow your brows, head tilting slightly out of habit as you encourage him to go on.

“When you’re recoiling from hitting the shuttle, your racket still faces forward instead of down,” He explains, but none of it makes sense to you and it must be evident in your face, with Jisung looking slightly frustrated that the words did not register in your head.

“If you keep your racket facing forward, the ball isn’t going to go down but head straight, which allows your opponent to retaliate better.” He continues, and you somewhat understand where he’s getting at, but he’s not really helping you at all. All he did was point out your mistake, which makes you feel that he’s just trying to show off his knowledge.

“Well, what should I do then?” You can’t help but seem a bit agitated, as you slump your shoulders and let the racket settle by your ankles, your hold on the handle tightening ever so slightly.

“Hit it face down,” He raises his arm and demonstrated the step to you, causing the head of his hoodie to fall, shining the light of the court on his face. You’re briefly stuck looking at his face instead of his step, but were reeled back in when he makes eye contact. You clear your throat as he goes through the step again, which you think were exactly the steps you were doing a second ago.

“But, how was I any different?” You say as you mimic his steps, bracing yourself in the positions without much thinking, and hitting the imaginary shuttle right as when he does.

“No- see, you did it again,” He steps a bit closer as he gestures to the racket in your hand. “You’re hitting it straight on. You’re supposed to go down.” You sigh as he says this, feeling a bit irked that a mere student is trying to tell you what to do. He is in the top rank, so maybe he has a point.

Attempting to set your implicit annoyance aside, you intently look at his hand and the way he moves his wrist at the end of the step, trying your best to imprint this into your head. He looks a bit flustered with how much your gaze is focused on him, but still goes on two more times before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to try once more. 

You look at the position of your hand this time instead of him, going through the initial steps and tweaking your wrist to face more downwards this time than your last few attempts, before your eyes quickly flit towards Jisung, looking for some sort of confirmation with your try. The subdued purse of his lips assures your suspicion, which is that you’re doing it right this time round.

“Good, did you kinda find out what you were doing wrong?” The words come out on reflex, and you don’t think twice this time about him being in the same class as you and yet trying to coach your steps, as you ponder on his question.

“I mean, I found out I was doing something wrong when you pointed it out, but I’m not quite sure what you meant when you said I was hitting it straight on.”

“Wow, you were really into him weren’t you?”

“Shut up Chenle, I was into the badminton technicality.”

Jisung steps forward a little bit and is about to say something before he hesitates. You look at him sceptically, waiting to see what he was gonna say before he shakes his head and seemingly snaps himself out of it. “Can you go back to the third position?” He asks of you, which you raise your hand and assume the position. Your racket and arm are raised pointed straight to the ceiling, while he positions his fisted hand in front of you. Your questioning look doesn’t go unnoticed, as a slight smile appears on Jisungs face before he nods at you, saying, “Okay, now gently go down like you would and stop at my hand.” 

You do as you’re told, with Jisung’s eyes settled on your concentrated face following his orders, as the face of your racket meets his fist, the white of his knuckles colouring for a bit. 

“See, you’re hitting the front of my knuckles, but that will send the shuttle forward.” He demonstrates by pulling his fist back, “That will give the other player a better opportunity of retaliating.” He then readjusts your racket by the throat, having the net hit the top of his fist. “This gives you a better chance.”

“But like, how am I giving them a better shot?” 

You’re not sure what was funny or amusing about your question, but it seems that there must be something there for Jisung to sport a cute small smile, as he picks his racket back up and moves to one of the set-up nets, and funnily enough, you find yourself following him subconsciously. He picks up a shuttlecock on his way to the net and positions himself, as you stand at his side.

“See, let’s say the shuttle is coming at you this way,” He holds the shuttle with one hand as if the opposing player had shot it at him over the net. “If I hit it the way you had— actually, why don’t you try receiving the ball.” And so you shuffle over, standing opposite of his ready stance with your arms crossed, intrigued.

“I’ll throw the shuttle back to you and try seeing if you can hit it back.” You realise that this is the most you’ve heard him speak in the past five weeks that you’ve attended the class together. You bring your hand up and stand in the ready position you remember coach telling you about when initiating a game, and Jisung takes that as a sign that you’re ready and hits the shuttle at a moderate speed. You hit the ball back with ease, as it goes over back to Jisung’s side, who catches it with his other hand. You let out a long ‘ahh’ sound of understanding, hand clutched at your side. 

“You’re right, that was hell easy,” You brood aloud, but not before asking one of your other endless questions. “But then, how would the other way be any different?”

From the looks of it, Jisung seems over the moon that you asked such a question, holding back a smile by biting on his lips lightly and quipping his head to the side. He holds up the shuttle and looks at you, gauging to see if you’re ready to receive the ball once again. As you regain your ready position, you see the ball suspended in the air briefly before Jisung hits it at the ‘better’ angle, which is seemingly from the head of it, but before you can process anything else a zip sounds past you and the ball has landed behind you.

Your gasp resonates through the hall as you look behind you to where the shuttle has landed, with a hand coming to your mouth as you look at Jisung. The latter contains his smug smile behind his own hand, as you point at the ball and look back and forth. “What did you just do?”

“Ah, that’s a technique that's called smash.” You falter slightly.

“That’s a weird fucking name I’m not gonna lie,” You glance at the ball once more with a look of disgust, before shaking yourself out of it. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

You didn’t think that you would be getting a one-on-one lesson when you decided to stay behind today, but you’re quite surprised with how he was able to spot such a little detail so quickly. And that gives you an idea.

“Jisung,” You call his name for the first time since you met him five weeks ago, which surprises the said man, as you see his eyes startle and a few strands of his hair jerk. “Do you stay after class every week?”

He’s a bit quiet for some time, processing your question thoroughly. He nods his head briefly, but not before a bit of hesitation. 

“Is it . . . Can you help me improve?” You’re a bit shy now that you voice your question out loud, but you’re determined to move up at least one rank and land second place; or even just have a good academic score, even in badminton. 

Seeing the blank face that Jisung is now sporting, you think about the unfair offer you’ve just made to him. Why would he spend his extra time after class to teach you, his potential competitor, without getting anything out of it? You’re not sure what you can offer him, maybe some sort of payment? But before you can ponder even more, you catch a slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye.

“Is that . . .  a yes?” You lock eye contact, as he nods his head once more but with more vigour and confirmation. 

“Why?” It’s your turn to look at him with confusion.

“Are you asking me?” He points to himself, as he slightly tilts his head as if he was going to look as if you were talking to someone else. You shake your head quickly once he asks the question, raising even more questions.

“Actually, no. I take back what I said. You said yes, right? You can’t change your mind. Or, I mean you can but like I would be pretty bummed about it because you already said yes but I’d respect your choice.” You take a deep breath in once you finish, looking at him and clasping your hands together a bit too harshly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll help you with what you need.” Relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile in thanks.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing too.” Jisung hums for you to continue, as he goes towards his bag and retrieves his bottle to take a sip.

“Can you teach me how to smash?” And maybe you should’ve waited for him to be done with that bottle first.

You think you’re quite good at being subtle and on the low, no matter how much Juda and Chenle counter that argument. You can be sneaky if you put your mind to it, and it's been proven many times in high school when you would sneak your favourite snack during the middle of the class without your strict teacher finding out.

So you’re not sure where you went wrong when you held out a snack bar in Jisungs direction, only for the whole court to look at you weirdly. You merely strutted up to him with maximum placidity and poked out the bar from your hand into his torso, looking away and hoping he would get the memo and take from you as with a mutter of something that sounds really close to the word ‘thanks’.

But it’s been a solid fifteen seconds and not only is the bar still in your hand, but everyone in the class has slowed down their activities in favour of looking at you two. Even coach’s staring as if he’s trying to solve a very complex puzzle.

“Is this . . . for me?” Jisung’s voice comes out as a rumble, not knowing if he should whisper or talk normally, sounding out something in between instead. 

Of course this is for you, idiot. Why am I holding it in your direction??

You ignore his question and shake the bar in your hand with a bit more intensity, hoping that he would finally get the memo. It isn’t until ten more seconds pass that you lose all hope and turn to him, grabbing his hand and placing your gratitude in his open palm, closing his fist around the energy snack.

You stomp your way to start your warm-ups before Jisung could say anything.

“When you aim your hand, you’re not really looking at the shuttle,” Jisung starts after a few rounds of one-on-one games you’ve started after class. “Your eyes are just hovering around it for a few seconds before you look around and put yourself in position. You’re supposed to go in position without looking, it should be intuitive.” You huff at his explanation, dropping your hands by your sides.

“How do I ‘look’ at it more, then?” You’re grateful that Jisung is helping you, but it’s just the tiniest bit unnerving for him to recognise your every move and be able to point out your mishaps. He moves back from the net, creating a decent amount of space in his playing circle. He starts throwing the shuttle up with his badminton racket, the distance from the shuttle and its net growing with each hit.

“Practising this move helps,” He says as he works through what you remember the coach demonstrating the first few classes. As the shuttlecock goes higher and higher with each impact, your eyes catch on the silver of skin poking out as Jisung lifts his hand to meet the shuttle, his shirt rising for a few seconds every time. 

“I think it would be better if you looked at the shuttle?” His words catch you off guard, as you look up and meet his gaze already settled on your, eyes gleaming as he pokes at his cheek with his tongue. 

“Shut up,” You look away, flustered that you got caught, before attempting the moves, refusing to look back at him.

The condensation of the electrolyte drink is addled with the dampness of your hand, as you make your way to class the week after. You see Ryujin talking to the coach as you enter, and Jisung at his bag, seeming to ruffle through it in order to retrieve something. You strut your way up quietly, not wanting to attract any awkward attention by giving gratitude in the form of a drink to your unofficial instructor. As you open your mouth to call Jisungs name, the tall man turns around and gives you the faintest hint of a smile, before his eyes land on your hand.

“Hi, here.” You spout, as you extend your hand straight towards him, some of the condensation dropping on the floor and finding solace in the gaps of your fingers. His hands feel dry and warm as it brushes against yours, retrieving the drink from your grasp.

“You didn’t have to. Thank you; for last time too,” Your cheeks heat up at his words as you avert your gaze away, opting to look at the playing net instead. “Don’t mention it,” Your damp hand wrings against the dry one behind your back, as you slowly let your gaze wander back to Jisung, who’s now looking at the blue bottle in his hand.

“Did you know,” He twists the drink in his hand and looks at what you think is the nutrition information. “Electrolyte doesn’t actually help when you exercise.” Your expression sullens as he continues to look at the drink you gave him. “Your body loses more water than electrolytes when you exercise, and so there is no use consuming more electrolytes. Water helps way more in comparison,” The scowl on your face makes Jisung stop in his tracks as he looks up after finishing his bite-sized lecture.

“Well, if you’re so ungrateful—” You reach your hand out to snatch the bottle from him but are stopped short as his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “No!” He exclaims and a chuckle slips past as your struggle to get the drink, reaching out your other hand before he captures that too, now both of your wrists trapped in his hand. Your eyes widen, with your wrist bound and fighting up a struggle, all impaired with Jisung’s hand wrapped. Before your mind can wander to what other scenarios can result in him bounding up your hands, he continues; “I’m very grateful. You don’t have to give me these things just because I give you a few tips after class.”

You pause your struggle, letting your hands be weighed down. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been helping you at all. Sometimes I even set you back, so it’s the least I can do.” You say truthfully. You do sometimes feel like a burden when Jisung gives you a tip and you don’t adapt immediately, sometimes it takes you maybe two after-class lessons until you can successfully cast back the shuttle over the net with a short distance. The only way you could think about paying him back was through these pick-me-up snacks.

“Okay, how about this,” You miss the warmth and pressure of his hand against your wrist as soon as he lets go to put the drink down behind him and straightens back up, looking away as he slowly grows flustered with what he’s about to say next. “Treat me to ice cream maybe?”

You smile at his antics, happy to have been told how you could repay him. “Deal,” He visibly deflates with relief as you zealously agree, putting your bag down next to his as you both start to unpack. 

You shuffle to the bathroom as soon as practice is over, giving Jisung a quick point towards the direction you’re going to ease his worries about you running away. Once inside, you’re met with the cool breeze and a mirror that reflects your spent figure. Oh god, how were you gonna go out like this? Is this what you looked like this entire time? Shuffling to the sink, you shoulder your bag back as you lean over the sink and lightly dab at your face with some water, before cleaning yourself up and dabbing the paper towel against your face. 

You don’t know why you were so nervous to do this; it’s truly just some ice cream with your temporary and unofficial coach. But you truly wanted him to see your gratitude, and soon enough you’re thinking if ice cream isn’t enough, and budgeting how you can come up with enough money for an all-you-can-eat buffet at this time of the night. But before you could even add up the numbers on your fingers - it was a two in one hand and three in another, not quite sure what they meant - the sound of the door opening echoes in the bathroom, jumping you out of your reverie. 

Turning around, you just catch Minji stepping in, looking taken aback at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t expecting anyone to enter this public bathroom. “You okay?” She calls after you, and you can only hope that the smile on your face is convincing enough.

“Yup! Just . . . tired,” You cringe a bit at the overused excuse, but your shoulders slump when she just smiles back at you. 

“It’s okay, maybe your date with Jisung would cheer you up?” You feel something lodge in your throat, coughing out in surprise.

“No!” You retort, hands coming out from behind you as if to stop all ideas from forming. “We’re- It’s not like that. He’s just-” Minji looks at you with amusement, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms, urging you to continue. The mind blank you’re sporting is not at all helping with a way to express what you truly are doing with Jisung, and so you try: “I just owe him something for smashing his racket.” And that was the best you could do.

Minji’s smile falls, as her arms drop at her sides. “You . . . smashed his racket?” 

You don’t know why her voice was laced with such concern, but you figure that you have to finish what you started. “Yeah, to pieces actually. Sometimes the adrenaline truly gets to you, right?” You chuckle a bit, trying to find a gap in the conversation where you can squeeze back out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” You clench the strap of your bag and exit the bathroom, ready to dart out of the place. As you turn a sharp right, you are immediately met with a sheet of white, which suspiciously looks like the colour of the shirt Jisung was wearing today. Hands are placed at your shoulder and you’re quickly set back half a step from the wall, or at least enough to recognise that it wasn’t a wall, but rather Jisung’s tall figure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes flicking from his own to the arms stretching to your shoulders, catching a few veins adorning his forearm. A clear of his throat has you looking entirely away, as you grab at his wrist and start tugging towards the exit. 

The white lights of the LED sign of the ice cream place illuminate most of the dark street, with most businesses having closed earlier in the day save for a few convenience stores littered with tired college students like yourselves. You eye the shop and its extravagant decor, sceptical about being brought to such a high-end ice cream shop.

“You know, when you said ice cream, I thought you had wanted me to buy you some popsicles from some convenience store. Not someplace about exorbitant ice cream with fifty years of craft in making,” You nudge your elbow a bit to Jisung’s side, to which he responds by twisting his head in your direction.

He splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot that, you know you were gonna pay,” You notice his hands move as he speaks, something you’ve picked up from when you would talk to him or notice him talking to coach; it’s as if his words are spelt with his hands first and then brought out through his lips, now adorning a pout as he tries explaining himself.

“. . . I thought we were just, going out.” Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise at his words. Going out? As in, going out on a date? 

You wonder if your thought bubble is something he can see, as he quickly puts out his hands again, shaking them vehemently. “Not on a date! It’s just, I didn’t know what-”

“Jisung, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” You decide to put him out of his misery, reassuring him before continuing, “I’ve never been here but I’ve been meaning to try it out, so I’m glad you suggested this place. Let me treat you to something good,” And without thinking, you link your arm through his and push through the door, the cool of the interior washing over both of you. The shop was mostly white, with white tiles placed as half-walls as well as the flooring, the only hint of colour being the green of a few plants and of course the various ice creams. The employee, who seems to be the only person in the shop, straightens up ever so slightly at the sight of the two of you entering, before slumping back down when you head towards the self-serve ice cream booths. Picking up two cups, you hand one to Jisung who’s at your right, before you pick up the scooper from a mini bucket of water, waving it around your choices.

“Tell me which flavour you want me to pick out for you,” You eye the various flavours of ice creams, seeing if you can find your favourite. You look at Jisung to see if he’s doing the same, only to see his eye zeroed in on one bucket which is contrastingly fuller than the different flavours around it.

“Mint chocolate ice cream?” Your question has JIsung nodding his head as he looks at you sheepishly. “I can’t believe you would choose the most controversial ice cream. You’re so original.” You tease, to which Jisung nudges you in retaliation.

“It’s a good flavour, if people stop comparing the mint and the chocolate and instead choose to see how much they complement each other, we would be one step closer to world peace.”

“That’s a bold claim, what’s your source?” Jisung grabs the scoop out of your hands with mock aggressiveness, opting to scoop his serving of the mint chocolate ice cream. “Your references? Where is your citation—” He cuts you off by placing his hand on your mouth after taking a scoop of his ice cream, as his chest meets your arm. 

He shushes you, “Just get your ice cream, yeah? I’ll go get my toppings,” He nods and lets go of your mouth, missing the way your cheeks heat up from his proximity and touch on your face. You bring the back of your hand to your face, prying the heat to go away as you shake your head and pick the scooper back up, reaching for your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Meeting Jisung at the counter, you place your cup of ice cream next to his on the weigh and fish through your bag as you wait for the person behind the counter to calculate your total. However, as soon as you probed your wallet out of your bag, the sound of a completed transaction peals out, making you turn your head up just to see Jisung putting his wallet back into his sweatpants.

“It was supposed to be my treat,” You insist, looking towards Jisung’s direction to generate some sort of guilt for his action. Instead, the man avoids your gaze, picks up two spoons, and places them in your cups, grabbing yours when he spots you not budging from the corner of his eye and turning to head for the door. You grab at his sleeve to force out his reasoning but are slowly pulled with him as he heads out, quickly turning around and bidding goodbye to the staff before he opens the door.

“Well, maybe you can pay next time,” At the mention of another time of you and Jisung hanging out, your initial sorrow washes over by a wave of giddiness. 

“Then give me your number,” You propose, fishing your phone out. “So I can see when you’re next free and make it up to you,” With wide eyes, Jisung’s hands hesitate as they reach out for your phone; before either of you can second-guess yourselves, he takes the phone and smiles shyly, typing in his details. Handing the phone back to you, you take a look at his contact before pocketing your phone as Jisung starts to speak.

You scoop a spoon of your ice cream into your mouth to hide your smile, but from a light chuckle that emits from your left side, you don’t think your efforts amounted to much.

You stretch your arm to reach the end of your leg, warming up your body before the mass class warmup, more so to have something to do instead of staring at Jisung who’s also here early and is also doing his own unique sets of warm-ups. 

Nothing about badminton is sexy; there’s nothing sexy about moving your wrist just in time to deliver some sort of groundbreaking delivery with the shuttlecock. Even the word shuttlecock grosses you out, as you suppress the urge to shiver at this very moment. 

So you’re not sure why the act of playing badminton with the wall is such an attractive sight to you; as Jisung grunts every now and then, seemingly surprised and unprepared by his own backhand delivery against the wall, which makes him take quick steps back and forth and side to side to meet each hit. His quick movements allow for his loose clothing today to move around freely, exposing toned skin every now and then. It takes a lot of your willpower to have you not to drool right then and there, as if you were back in high school once more.

One hit, in particular, bounced off high and far from the wall, the sound of the shuttlecock smacking against the wall echoing louder as it heads for Jisung’s left side, a direction that you’re situated in although with a safe amount of distance. The tall player retaliates by turning his body a whole hundred-and-eighty degree, facing away from the wall and essentially towards you as he tries to continue his streak of hits. Briefly, you see his eyes look at you and back at the shuttles descend, but his focus on the said thing falters when he looks at you again, realising that you’ve been watching him play. 

The shame of being caught should’ve arrived by now, as your shoulders stiffen with being onslaught by Jisung’s intense gaze. But before the chagrin could fully settle in, Jisung has completely passed the point of positioning his racket, causing the shuttle to fall and bounce off of his head and onto his feet. Gently clasping your hand at your mouth, you stop your giggles at the warning glare that Jisung sends to you; although his flushed cheeks aren’t making it any better.

“Say something and see what happens,” He points at you with the tip of his racket. You remove your hand and open your mouth, curious to see where this goes.

“Are you really gonna say something?” He steps closer to your figure, which is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with both hands placed on top of one another in front of you. He drops his racket on the ground, as if it doesn’t cost a limb, and instead places his hands right above his knees, looming over your figure. You can’t help it this time when your gaze follows towards the gap in the collar of his shirt, showing the sharp cut of his collarbone peeking through. It’s when your gaze is caught on his chain necklace dangling from his neck that the sound of a basketball bouncing echoes closer, as both of you look towards the direction it’s coming from. Not long after, a boy no older than ten shuffles in with his shoes squeaking against the floor, looking shocked at the fact that the two of you are here. 

The ball lightly hits Jisung’s calf, who simply picks it up and passes it back to the boy who’s seemingly frozen in place. As soon as the ball arrives at his own feet, he quickly picks it up and dashes out of the place. 

“Do you wanna bet to see who can reach past their toes?” Your question snaps Jisung out of his thought. The boy chuckles and sits down to your right, stretching out his legs and shaking them out as a form of warm-up.

“You’re so on,”

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you strut up to Jisung, who’s at his bag, taking out his needed items. With a tap on his shoulder, he turns to face you, giving you a smile as a greeting before scanning you.

“What are you doing this time?” You gasp in mock offence.

“This time? I haven’t even done anything yet?” 

“But you’re going to,” He points his fingers at your hidden hands. “You’re either gonna scare me or pull the lamest prank ever known to date.” Your smile drops and a scowl replaces it instead. 

When Jisung fully turns to face you, you smile once more and lean your shoulders in. “I actually brought you something to thank you. Again.” You shift the item from your left to your right hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed for saying it all out loud. “Because of you, I can hit a backhand serve and not smack myself.” The boy stands taller with your gratitude, a blush sporting on his face as his eyes look anywhere but at you. You must look like high schoolers confessing to one another with the way you’re both flustered and shy, which isn’t a thought you’re fully opposed to.

He nods his head, still avoiding looking directly at you, as he reaches his hands out, ready to receive what you’ve brought for him. You giggle slightly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his hands in anticipation, “Since you said electrolyte drinks don’t really help, and you like your proteins after class, I thought of a better third option and brought you,” You reach your hands out and place the gift on his palms, urging him to open his eyes.

Cold and dripping with condensation, the plastic water bottle perched on his hands seem small as his hands close around them to keep from falling. His eyes fall as he looks dimly at the bottle in his hands, and you look away briefly to keep from laughing straight in his face.

“Now I know what that kid felt like when he got gifted an avocado for Christmas.”

“Wait,” Chenle plops down next to Juda as he says this, but is quickly shoved to the other end of the couch with a complaint ‘It’s too hot for you to stick your gross body next to me’.

“What’s his deal then?” 

“What?” You turn to look at Juda first as if to check that you’re the only one confused. The furrow of the girls’ eyebrows proves the fact that you aren’t alone, as you both look at Chenle with visible empty thought bubbles surrounding you.

“Well, he’s a badminton prodigy according to you. Seems to have surprased all the basics and is just a step away from being a professional.” The initial shove and retort from Juda barely set him off, as he goes back to his original position and maybe squeezes himself even more to her side and pulls a spoon out, digging into her tub of ice cream.

“Why is he still coming to class if he’s qualified enough to teach you?” Unfortunately, for once Chenle does have a point. You’ve thought about this a few times at the beginning of the semester when you were a little more than irritated by the fact that he joined the class and made you rank down a notch; ever since he agreed to lend you a hand, you’re sometimes even happy when you see him come in.

“He has a point sadly,” Juda waves her spoon towards Chenle’s direction. “If he’s as good as you say he is, why bother coming to class?”

“Maybe you should ask him that on your next date,” The boy wiggles his eyebrows at you, squealing out a laugh when you pull your fist back in a threatening manner. 

“Maybe I will,” you blurt out, attempting an aggressive tone. Before you could let anyone, even yourself, comprehend what you said, you pressed play on the tv and snuggled up to Juda’s arm on her right, with Chenle leaching off of her to her left. 

“The things I put up with,” She huffs as she stabs her spoon into her ice cream tub, feeding you diligently.

[WEDNESDAY; 10:37 PM]

you: you

jwisung: ?

jwisung: what happened to hello

jwisung: ‘how was your day’

jwisung: wheres ur decorum

you: shut up you dont even know what that means

jwisung: :(

you: >.<

you: are you free this saturday at 9

jwisung: you mean

jwisung: the saturday 9pm where we just finish our badminton class?

jwisung: idk i gotta check my schedule to see if i have a badminton class around that time 

jwisung: omg wait are you gonna spoil me 

you: 😐

you: yes but not anymore

you: bye

jwisung: WAIR

jwisung: pleahse im soreu

you: not forgiven <3

you: i know this place that actually has good mint choc ice cream

you: not too minty not too chocolatey 

jwisung: you rmbrd that i like mintchoc?

you: dont do this to me

jwisung: okay i wont 😁

you: good boy

jwisung: …

you: ?

you: oh! 

jwisung: no

you: ill remember this too 😋

Your bag is bigger this time when you go to class, having packed an extra set of clothes and a towel to have a quick rinse after class before your not-date with Jisung. Arriving just in time for the warm-up session, you’re met with gloomy faces left and right. Plopping your bag down next to Soojin’s, you whisper when you ask, “Why does everyone look like they’ve been kicked?”

She looks up to you with a pout adorning her features. “Coach declared today a ‘cardio’ day. Something about wanting to boost our stamina or whatever the fuck.” She sighs as she shoves her stuff back into her bag, sadly shuffling across the court to do her designated warmups. You grimace as you follow, hoping your travel-size soap is enough.

Turns out Coach’s definition of cardio was way more intense than what you remember your gym friends raving about, as you put your hands on your knees to keep yourself from collapsing. A whistle from the coach signals a shift in your rep, making you change stations and do the next cycle of workout.

“Coach, how much longer are we gonna do this—”

“Until I start sweating, Jaemin. Now keep up!” Coach demands, which is absurd, because he isn’t doing anything but watching you do push-up planks and try not to collapse.

“Okay, stop,” He blows the whistle once more and you fall to your hands and knees, with everyone else modelling a variation of your position. Haechan’s high-pitched groan startles you, but not as much as the coach’s yelling that follows after.

“Don’t sit down guys! Sitting down after exercise is terrible for your stamina,”

“This sounds like some facebook myth my mom would tell me,” Ryujin pants as she shoves her fringe out of her face.

Coach smiles as he claps this time around. “You guys were great today, well done! As a gift, you can only do the stretching cool-down activities and I’ll finish class earlier today,” At that, the class erupts in out-of-breath cheers and barely lasting claps. 

You look to find Jisung, just to see how he’s holding up after this exercise round from hell, and you find yourself more than relieved to see him affected for once. Halfway through class, he’s opted to take off his hoodie, which left him in a white shirt and navy sweatpants, with sleeves bunched up to show his biceps and their carvings. The sight of him adorned with sweat and panting sends a twist to your stomach, and you’re quickly reminded that you’re supposed to go out with him after this.

Shuffling to your bag as quickly as you can with the ache pulsing through your legs, you’re about to head for the courts' public showers when you’re met with Jisung’s figure. 

“You can’t leave that easily, I have to try that ice cream,” He murmurs with a crooked smile. You smack at his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I wanted to take a quick rinse before we go out. That cardio really did a number on me,” Jisung falls a bit quiet at your words, as you visibly see him suddenly deep in thought. Before you get to question it, he beats you to it by straightening up and looking directly at you with an idea in mind.

“Why don’t you come to mine?” You blanch at his words but aren’t allowed to react more than that as he continues. “I live really close, and you can just use the shower before heading out. You have your stuff with you and I need a rinse too.” He points at your bag behind you, making you flush and subconsciously move to cover up your efforts. His idea doesn’t seem too bad, and you think this could be another excuse for you to make up to him. Let’s go out one more time because I used up all your hot water. Couldn’t think of a better idea. 

With a nod and a smile, you’re quickly guided out of the building shoulder to shoulder.

Jisung’s apartment really wasn’t far at all, as you arrive at the complex within a five-minute walk from the sports grounds. Living in a two-bedroom apartment with his roommate, who Jisungs said to have gone home this winter season, the place looks relatively clean with the effort of one person living in the area. He directs you to his room, where you place your bags and pick up your clothes before he points towards the bathroom.

“You can use my shampoo and soap, they’re both in some type of white bottle. Don’t use the blue ones because they’re my roommates’ and he has a sixth sense when it comes to these things,” You salute him and shuffle to the bathroom, trying your best to be as quick as possible to not leave him waiting and to not actually use up all his hot water. The bathroom was just slightly messy, with towels stacked on one another in a haphazard manner and shaving bottle caps abandoned and soap remnants staining the sink, you feel warm with the idea of getting to see this side of Jisung. A university student trying his best, not some badminton prodigy.

Rinsing your body one last time, you close the water tap and open the glass door of the shower, reaching out your hand blindly to retrieve your towel. After a few seconds of mindlessly flinging your arm and only coming back with a bang of your knuckle against the metal towel holder, you don’t really recall pulling out the towel from your bag, much less hanging it anywhere near the bathroom.

“Oh my god, why today?” The cold of the world outside the shower cubicle washes shivers over you as you open the door wide enough to fit your head around, scanning to see if there’s any alternative you can use instead. All you’re met with is bundles of toilet paper rolls stacked on top of one another and used toilet paper rolls dumped into a basket haphazardly. Your panic settles a bit quicker as your mind blanks from solutions, but not before a knock is heard through the door with your name being called.

“Yes?” You hide the waver in your voice as best as you can, closing the glass door just a bit more.

“Is everything okay?” Jisung’s voice rumbles through the door. Your hand flies to your body, suddenly feeling exposed with the reminder of Jisung’s presence. Slipping back into the shower, you raise your voice as much as you can to be heard through the door; “Yup! Everything’s fine. Just . . .” It’s just I’m dripping and naked in your house and the only remedy is a towel, which I don’t have.

“I noticed you forgot your towel,” The muffle of his voice cuts you out of your trance, “I can give it to you— I mean of course I won’t look! I can just— maybe I’ll stick my hand in?” You laugh slightly at the fact that he’s just as flustered as you, before replying with an agreement. 

As he opens the door with the smallest gap to fit the towel and then his wrist, the cold air of the outside reminds you again of your stark nakedness, one hand going across your chest as you reach your other to grab at the towel. With a skim of your wet fingers against his warm and dry ones, you retrieve your towel with a shy thanks, as Jisung quickly goes to close the door.

While getting ready as quickly as you could in the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts of how you were supposed to face Jisung after that whole incident. You couldn’t think if it was better to joke about it and get it over with or forget about it and have to come back one day for some form of closure. You hoped there was no need for closure.

But before your overthinking could get to you, Jisung regarded you like he would any other day when you stepped out of his bathroom — with a shy look and awkward hands — and you immediately relax, shoulders slumping as you go up to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jisung’s eyes flit towards it, but not for long before he opens the door and lets you lead the way.

The trip to the ice cream store was a short one, requiring only a train ride to the han rivers’ skirts where the shop is situated. The store itself was busy with people sitting all around snacking on its offerings, but once you get your respective ice creams and head out back towards the river, it’s a bit quieter; a breeze slips past you as you wrap an arm around yourself. With spring in the air, the trees’ full bloom flowers scatter around the pavement and are imprinted by the soles of your hoses as you walk by.

Finding a bench by the tree, the two of settle down on it, as you turn and face Jisung in anticipation of his first try.

“It’s really good, trust me. And it’s like a bit thicker with its mint rather than the chocolate bits which is a bit hard to do when you eat mint chocolate ice cream because it’s always the chocolate that's richer and you get si—” a spoonful of your ice cream is stuffed into your mouth, spluttering you to a stop as you glare at Jisung whos laughing at your expression.

“I had to shut you up one way,” You fist your hand at him in faux aggression, pulling out your spoon and placing it back into your cup.

“Just eat it quickly before it melts,” You exclaim with a hurried expression, feet bouncing up at down in anticipation. Jisung glances at you while he picks up his spoon, prodding at his ice cream before he picks up a spoonful of his ice cream, slowly bringing it to his mouth as he looks at your expression. He only laughs and detours his spoon once, bringing the spoon back up to his lips when the expression on your face shifts to a deadpan.

The pink of his lip contrasts with the mint colour of the ice cream dripping slightly from the spoon, as he finally fits the ice cream in and gives it a taste. Looking at his eyes with suspense, Jisung’s default expression of scepticism is what you see first, before it shifts into surprise, into confusion, and finally into the same expression as a kid getting candy. The glint in his eyes shines bright in the dim lighting that you’re in, as Jisung points to the ice cream while he continues consuming the ice cream.

“It’s good,”

“Of course it’s good. I wouldn’t bring you to try good mint chocolate if it wasn’t actually good mint chocolate,” You stifle a giggle when Jisung throws you a glower.

“You know what I mean,” At his positive reaction, you comfortably dug into your own ice cream, a comfortable silence blanketing you two with background noises of cyclers whizzing by and people talking in the distance.

“You’re doing really well,” Jisung starts with his eyes darted away, suddenly shy to look at you as he says, “In badminton, I mean. Your overhead shots are cleaner than mine.” Eyes still averted, he elbows you lightly with his compliment. You preen at his praise, leaning forward subconsciously to him with a thank you.

“It’s all thanks to you. If you weren’t as good as you are I wouldn’t even know that there are two methods of serving the shuttle.” 

Jisung’s laugh sounds less humorous, “Yeah, it must’ve been weird seeing me play alone during class,” There's a heavy pause as you visibly detect the boy sort through his next words. “I didn’t think you guys were . . . fond of me. When we first started,” You feel your stomach go white, colours flush from your face from his words. Did he know? Were you that blatant? You feel bad, remembering how isolated the boy was at that time as everyone distanced themselves since learning his level of expertise. You weren’t any better, the bitter feeling you harboured when you got ranked into the third group now coming back to you after three months of attending practice.

At the glum expression on your face, Jisung quickly goes to wave his hand. “Ah, it was— it wasn’t your fault or anything. I secluded myself too, so of course it would’ve been hard to talk as comfortably.” He rests his hand on yours that’s pressed against the bench, comforting you as if you’re the one whos been wronged, and not the other way around. Frowning at his consolation, you don’t know what comes over you as you flip your hand around, making your palm face his as you clasp his hands in yours.

You avoid looking at his expression as you make your bold move, looking at the river as you start. “If it makes you feel better, Jaemin always talks about how jealous he is of you whenever you do a smash,” Gathering the courage, you squeeze his fingers as you look at him, another question popping up in your head.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, of course, but—” You cut yourself short when Jisung nods his head at you, looking at you with a calm demeanour.

“Why do you still come to class if you’re already so good? I mean, I swear you’re at national levels at least,” Jisung snorts at your words, growing shy from your praise.

“I’m being serious, don’t laugh!” Even as you say your words with furrowed eyebrows, your efforts barely last as you smile at his bashful posture. Puffing his cheeks, he ponders a bit on how to answer your question; you’re about to tell him to just forget it, not wanting him to answer something so personal, when he straightens his posture and stares ahead with a determined expression.

“The first time I played badminton was at a family gathering for new years, and I might’ve been four or maybe five when my dad put a racket in my hand and swung my arm around to hit at the throws my cousins would send my way. Then when I got older and was forced to play actual sports in school, the only thing that I was willing to play was badminton. I didn’t try hard in the beginning and was there because I heard that the teacher conducting it didn’t really care,” You snort at the picture of young Jisung barely lifting his hand to play, or letting the shuttle zoom right past him while flinching away entirely.

“But when the interschool competitions came around and I was ranked in the last group to play, I had won by pure luck,” He rubs his hands up and down his pants as he reminisces, shoulder rubbing against your subconsciously. “And then everyone started cheering me on because apparently, my accidental win had helped us accelerate to the next round. It made me feel good that I was the cause of such a thing, so I tried a bit harder the next time. Then I asked the higher ranking kids to help me with my serving, and then my mom to admit me to a badminton class, and I ranked up from F to D, and then to B and then A. My class started to admit me to local competitions outside of school hours, and then it had become such a big part of my life that I was determined to get to a national scale.”

“Did you?” Your voice was quiet when you spoke, ending with a bit of a rasp from its lack of use. You were on the edge of your seat if your position meant anything, arms wrapped around your knees, thighs pressed to your chest, making the waistband of your shorts dig a bit higher. Jisung’s smile is a sentimental one, reminiscent of a win resulting from years of effort.

“I was fifteen when I was cast by a racket sports centre, which focused on training people ranging from kids to young adults to get to national competitions and even more. I was over the moon and became one of those kids you barely see in class and when you do, they’re just sleeping through the subject. My first competition was scheduled three months after my admission, which was unheard of; even kids who have been learning at the place for two years would struggle to pass the first rounds for the entry.” Your eyes move along Jisung’s hand, as he comically explains his words through the movement of his fingers, expanding and collapsing joints onto one another.

“I didn’t win the first one, but I won the second, and the third, and built a streak - although short, just four months into training. In the beginning, it was all so exhilarating, the thrill of winning the title of first place with all these people who were just as gifted, if not even more. And so I would win because I was capable, I didn’t win because I was it was expected of me.”

“But,” You murmur as Jisung halts, bringing his hand down as his fingers fiddle with the texture of the bench. 

“But,” His excitement has burnt down to a sort of nostalgia, and you reach your hand down and clasp your hand over his again, before he looks down and turns his hand, palm facing yours as he links your fingers together. “But then, when I was seventeen, I had passed the initial rounds for the national Olympic competition. It was big news; our centre hadn’t had someone do that in decades, and that was when the pressure was tangible.

“My parents would schedule my day down to the minutes, and my coach made my diet strict, telling me what exactly I should eat each day until the competition. I loved the order and agenda that was set for me; I didn’t have to think what’s next? I just had to keep doing what I was good at. But then came the first round of the match, and the people were ruthless. No one was there to watch two teenagers play badminton, but instead fight for their lives. I didn’t think much about it until my third round that day when the kid I was playing against deliberately tried to hit the ball to my face.” 

You couldn’t help it, your laugh had spilt out before you could even think of stopping it, but Jisung’s squeeze against your hand assured you that it was fine, as he chuckled with you.

“Who the fuck practices hitting the ball at someone's face?” Your voice was pitched higher with exasperation. “Do you reckon he had a cardboard cutout of you to practice on? I doubt someone can do the calculations of face-hitting range that quickly under pressure.” Jisung contemplates your idea teasingly, tilting his head and measuring random angels with his free hand. Seeing that, the weight of your hand held against his now weighs tenfold, as the butterfly in your stomach flutters with the subconscious squeeze of his fingers. You bump at his shoulder as you squeeze yourself closer, bringing your linked hands to rest against your stomach, wanting to hold him closer. 

“It was definitely weird, but it didn’t set me off my rhythm, I just thought that it was a way to rile people up. But my coach was the one irritated, and when the boy had almost hit my eye, that was when my coach started to interfere,” You can only imagine the noise surrounding seventeen-year-old Jisung, his coach stepping forward to halt the game and talking to the referee to take some sort of action, pointing accusing fingers at the opponent and their mentors. 

“The place that we were competing at was big, bigger than what I was used to back then, and there were a lot of people and so it was noisy;  but the noise that my coach and the kid were making was something else. When my coach came back to me, all riled up, I couldn’t do much but take in his energy. I remember being very tense, thinking that I should just step my ground a bit more next time ‘round so they wouldn’t think of doing something like aiming the shuttle at my face.

“I think it was either the fifth? Or the sixth round, when I was in the zone of playing ‘professionally’ rather than doing what I was already good at. I would do overhead deliveries and front-hand serves even though I’d rather do a simple back-hand. Then there was an opening for a smash, it was a weak point for the guy— and I was over the moon with the opportunity. I’d only done the smash successfully maybe enough to count off of my fingers, but I knew that if I timed it right I would get it,” Dread fills your stomach at the direction that Jisung is going, You’re sure if you clench your fingers any harder there would be an imprint left of the poor boy's hand, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care.

Jisung’s chuckle drifts lightly in the air, “I was too enthusiastic, and I bunched up all my energy into hitting the ball that I’d missed the perfect time and instead had delivered a simple overhead. It would’ve been okay otherwise, I mean, I was able to deliver something instead of losing a measly point, but before I could recover, the shuttle had travelled to the back end of the court, and in my attempt of getting it, I’d tripped and landed pretty badly,” While telling the story, Jisung’s free hand had been wandering over his clothed knee, fingers fiddling with the fabric and one another. Bunching up the fabric at the end of his pant, he pushes up the lax fabric up and over his knee, where a pink and slightly faded surgical scar paints the inner side of his knee. Your hand clasps over your mouth once met with the scar, and your heart fills with admiration as you see him trace his healed gash with sentimentality. Bringing your linked hands to rest on your knee, you prop your cheek against it while looking at him, sparkling eyes encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t play anymore after that, not with the same vigour I had before. Suddenly I had to go back to class regularly and didn’t have to do any sort of reps just so I don’t fall behind on my weekly plan. My schedule had more free time than anything, and so I had enough time to get to thinking; what if I hadn’t misstepped? Would I have won? But I knew that all of that thinking wouldn’t do me any good. So when I was watching the Olympics months later, I remember seeing the camera pan onto the coaches, and how happy they were to see their student playing. I missed the joy of playing for the thrill and adrenaline of moving around, and so I thought, why not become a coach?” Understanding fills you as you realise why Jisung is going through all this effort of attending a class that he’s exponentially overqualified for. His cheeks go red as he realises your gaze settling over his figure, now looking away from you and onto the still water. 

You can’t help it, you find it simply so endearing that he’s set his time into achieving something to allow people to have fun with badminton. Feeling overwhelmed with affection from his story and words and actions, you lean over and place a peck on to his cheek. 

The contact was brief, as your lips barely took in the smoothness of his skin before you’re coming back with a start. “Oh my god, Jisung. That’s so cute, you’re generous and you’re going out of your way to do such good things, and you didn't deserve to go through that at such a young age—” Your words were smushed together as you barely reach the end of your sentence, the cause being Jisung’s big hands gently attacking your cheeks at once. His wide eyes stare straight at yours as his colder hands warm against the puff of your cheeks; and you are seconds away from voicing your confusion before you see his gaze settling on your pouted lips, glistening and redder from the ice cream. 

You couldn’t even smile teasingly at him, as his hands refrain you from doing so. The nervous adrenaline running in your vein might be another reason too, but you don’t get to ponder on that for long before you see Jisung’s tilted head leaning closer, hooded eyes glancing at your eyes before focusing back on your lips, wanting to imprint it’s cute pouted shape.

The warmth of his lips lands on your cold ones, sending a wave of warmth to wash over you. You can feel his desire through the pressure of his lips against you, his soft lips fitting over yours lovingly. You mourn the loss as soon as Jisung pulls back, but not for long before he presses another close-mouthed kiss, this time with his hand tilting your head the other way, fingers slipping and cupping your jaw gently. Your stomach warms as you feel the fervour within Jisung, from the tip of his cold fingers on your heated cheeks to the push of his body towards you, wanting to get closer with each passing second. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are clouded with the haze of your kiss and a bit of timidity. Your giggle bubbles between you, causing him to smile along with you, his shyness catching up. Not wanting his hand to stray far as they fall from your face, you clasp at his palm and lace your fingers, pulling down to get his face closer to yours, placing a peck at his nose first, scrunched from being bashful, and then one on his lips. And another, and another, then it’s him who’s leaning in and slotting his lips against yours, and you’re pulling your linked hands behind your back and let go, opting to slot your hand behind his neck.

After two, three, and four more kisses to the cheek, forehead and lips, you tuck your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, feeling shy from doing all of this in public. Jisung’s laugh is sweet to your ears, hands rubbing up and down your back before brushing at the ends of your hair. 

“Give a warning next time round, will you?” You tease as you pull back, hand falling on his forearms, eyes looking everywhere but at his.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute. I felt this sudden urge to either bite you or kiss you,”

You pull back even more, hands coming up to shield yourself in mock reservation. “I don’t know if I should be thankful you chose the second option or fear for when the first option will happen,”

Jisung hums, “Maybe both?”

Your pinkies are linked as you walk along the river, basking in each other's presence as you talk, shoulders brushing every now and then. It’s when you’re both childishly debating about who had fallen first when Jisung suddenly points his finger at you accusingly.

“Is that why you forgot your towel?” His question comes out more genuine than anything, as he tilts his head quickly in thought. With a light gasp, you smack at his shoulder before your arm falls back and crosses on your shoulders, scandalised. “I didn’t!”

“Was that how you were gonna seduce me? By forgetting your towel and having me bring it to you? What was next, you wanted me to lotion your legs for you too?” You can tell he’s teasing this time around, as his tongue pokes at his cheek ever so slightly to withhold the grin that was blooming across his features.

You point your finger at him, catching on. “You probably distracted me with your whole ‘which bottle of shampoo’ debacle just to make me forget it.” Poking at his chest with eyes squinted in suspicion, “You wanted to see me naked on the first date? That’s not very decorum of you.”

Jisung scoffs and rolls his eyes at your accusation, shoulders squaring to better defend himself. “I don’t need to go through all of that just to get to you,” He throws you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, a rush of giddiness washing over him with the look of your flustered expression.

“You’re right,” This time, you’re looking at his lips as you say this, catching Jisung off-guard with your compliance. Moving closer, you rest your hands on his arms, pushing yourself up and closer to his body, chests brushing. Your voice, barely above a whisper, brushes against his ear, “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get to me, baby.” 

You know the smile on your face is menacing if Jisung’s gaze on you is anything to go by, partly annoyed and part timid. Ghosting one of your hands down his arm, you slip your fingers in between his and give them a squeeze, giggling as you swing your arm back a forth a bit like a school couple.

Jisung’s next sentence takes a bit of effort to say if his demeanour is anything to go by. With his gaze settled on your intertwined hands and a slightly open mouth— as if to say something, you give his hand another gentle squeeze to encourage him. 

The gleam in his eyes looks more assured as he straightens his posture and looks directly into your eyes, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Leaning in, you give another peck on his cheek, his scent pleasantly wafting through your nose. “I’d love to,”

You can feel the tension grow with the sound of the door closing and sounding its locking chime, toeing off your shoes as you look up at Jisung. He reaches out a hand towards you once you straighten up, pulling you close and guiding you towards the door of his bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, Jisung’s room is clean but still spotted with signs of use, with his desk having papers and laptop wires strewn around while a plethora of empty hangers are placed at the foot of his closet. As he sits on the bed, with his hand still holding yours, he tugs you forward, his free hand going to your thigh, clasping above your knee. 

His eyes glisten as he looks up at you, “This okay?” his touch ghosts on you as he asks this. You nod your head, wanting him to touch you, needing him to touch you more. His fingers grow bolder and heavier in weight, as his hand clasps at the back of your thigh, bending your leg and resting it next to his thigh. Understanding his movements, you follow suit, settling yourself on his thighs with your linked hands resting on his stomach. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against you, easing in with feathery light touches. The slot of your mouths against each other starts a small fire in your stomach, as you push yourself onto him more, needing him to know that you crave more. 

He sighs against your lips as you settle down more, the pressure not far from where he wants it the most. He kisses you feverishly, the smack of your lips growing louder with each plant of his lips. His touches grow heavier as his fingers go from grazing against your knees to tracing lines up your thighs, barely a touch away from settling under the seem of your skirt. Knitting your fingers in his hair, his hand flies to your love handles, squeezing them in an attempt to ground himself. A sigh leaves his lips when you separate just the slightest bit, taking a breather as you kiss the corner of his lips, hands falling from the ends of his hair down to his collarbones and at the bottom of his shirt. Your spread your fingers on the skin of his stomach, nails skimming ever so slightly making Jisung’s breath hitch, his stomach tensing under your touch, eyes still closed as he takes in your touch, his stomach knotting from finally being able to do this with you.

With his grip already tight on your waist, he maneuvers you off his lap and sits you on his bed, crawling between your legs, making you open them and welcome him in as you lie down on his bed. He kisses you again, his hands now staking claim everywhere he can, pushing your shirt up to your ribs, fingers grazing against your bud form under your bra before he brings his hands down and kneads at your thighs.

“Jisung,” You sigh when he swipes his tongue against your lips. He takes your tongue in his mouth, humming against it at your call, its vibration sending hot waves down your body. His touches on your body take you higher, but you need more.

And so you say just as much, “More, give me more.”

“Fuck,” He sighs against your lip, “Yeah? Okay, I’ll give you more, anything for you,” Pressing one last peck against your lip, you see his body slide down your figure, his fingers going to unhook your bra as you arch your back. He groans at the sight of your breasts free from your bra. “I love your tits, so much,”  His hands are big against you, but they fit perfectly against the cup of your breasts, squeezing them together as he smothers himself against your cleavage. He licks a stripe of each bud, before focusing on your left one with his mouth, tongue lapping around the swell as he sucks, opting to circle his fingers on your other tit before pinching it harshly, making you keen against him.

You rake your fingers in his hair, petting him. “Such a good boy, you make me feel so good,” Your words make him whine against your breast, making his hip stutter against the mattress,  for some sort of friction. He releases one hand from cupping your breasts, opting to use one hand while his now free hand dances its way down your torso, unzipping your skirt and taking it off, before meeting the seam of your panties. With his pointer finger, he hovers a line ever so slightly on your slit, eyes wide as he glances at the pleasure breaking out on your face and the wetness of your underwear spreading.

He keeps his touch light, drawing circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear, frustrating you. You huff when he uses the point of his fingers and presses the slightest amount into your hole, the fabric refraining you from feeling his direct touch. You pull at his hair that’s winded through your fingers, urging him on; he moans at the pull, getting the memo once he looks up at your face with an eye squeezed closed from pain or pleasure. Or both.

He licks at your entrance briefly through your panties, the heat and wetness making you moan, before his fingers finally fit themselves into the seam, sliding them down your legs. You feel more than see his gaze on your core, hooded eyes watching it squeeze around nothing as his fingers tease around it. He comes back up to you and presses his lips against yours, lips slotting together briefly before you feel his thumb rub against your sensitive nub, his middle finger prodding at your hole, eyes watching your face as he pushes the pad of his finger against you. You keen when his finger fills you, as he pushes his finger back and forth, his thumb following by pressing into your clit and pulling away rhythmically. He brings his head against your neck, licking a stripe against you before his teeth catch on your skin, lips wrapping themselves around you straight after, sucking into you before parting and finding another part of your skin to taint. He quickens his pace with his one finger, but it’s not enough, you can barely get enough of him.

Hugging his head that’s still tucked at your neck, you scratch at his scalp soothingly before pulling at strands of his hair. “Jisung,” You pant, “Another one, fill me up, please,”

“You want more?” He bites at your jaw lightly, before he pecks your lips lovingly, as if he isn’t trying to have you come undone with his fingers alone. You nod your head, “Please, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You beg as your cup the side of his face, your eyes looking at his blown-out pupils, probably no different than yours.

Jisung gronas at your words. “You’ve been so good, such a good girl.” He pulls his finger out so just the tip of it hangs onto your gaping hole, before he joins in another finger, two fingers now filling you. You whimper out a thank you, hands clutching at his shoulders as he picks up the pace, hand now slapping against your cunt, fingers curling inside your sopping pussy. Your body feels like it’s floating and coiling into itself all at once, with Jisung’s unrelenting fingers contrasting his gentle pecks and scrape of teeth against your skin. Every few thrusts and squeeze against his fingers have his hips grind down, sometimes grazing against your leg, making you feel his hard-on.

You bring your hand down from his shoulder, curling it at the bottom of his shirt before tugging at it, mumbling the word off. He pulls back slightly and pulls his shirt off with his free hand while you help with getting it over his head. You scratch your nails against the lines of his stomach, eliciting a hiss out of his before you palm at the outline of his cock through his sweatpants. “You listen so well, don't you? Always doing your best,” You pant out, testing the waters as you tuck the tips of your finger under his waistband. His moan comes out higher in pitch with your words, hips jutting forward and into your touch.

“Good for you,” he breathes against your cheek, eyes squeezed shut at the brush of your fingers against his clothed cock, muttering another fuck under his breath, rutting into your palm for more. 

You’re losing your patience, as Jisung speeds up his hand even more, the pleasure bordering with pain from his pace and harsher bites Jisung plants on you, too far gone with pleasuring you to be mindful of his strength. 

You can feel your orgasm reaching, breath hitching and your stomachs coil tightening further and further. You wrap your hand around Jisung’s wrist, slowing him down slowly before prodding them out of you. You whine at the emptiness briefly but are soothed when Jisung plants wet kisses against your collarbone. You push yourself up onto your shoulders, making Jisung shuffle back slightly in order to not lose touch with you, Reaching over, you dig through your bag and pull out a condom, shaking it between your bodies to bring Jisung’s attention to it.

The sound of the plastic wrapper catches his gaze, “You’re gonna let me put it in?” He grabs the packet from your hand before gently pushing you back down. He kisses you again, seeming to not get enough, as he pushes his pants and boxers down in one go, his tip smacking against the soft lines of his stomach and leaving a glisten. The rip of the packet sounds before he rolls it on, and you shift closer when you feel the tip of his cock lined up with your pussy.

The sheets ruffle around you as Jisung comes down and places a kiss on your cheek before looking into your eyes. “Ready?” He asks, and with a nod of your head, you feel him slowly ease himself into you. The stretch feels amazing, as you both moan into each other mouths, your hands squeezing and wandering everywhere around Jisung’s shoulders, back, torso. 

Jisung sighs, “Fuck,” His grip on your waist tightens, the pressure turning you on even more, squeezing around his cock. “You feel so good, so tight,”

“Fuck, Jisung,” You groan out as he quickens his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your skin picking up. “Fuck, you’re doing so well. Stretching me out so good,” Jisung throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut at the pulse of your pussy around his member. He looks back down, wanting to see the join of your bodies, pulling out till his tip, before ramming himself back in, losing himself to the blissful feeling.

The knot in your stomach tightens. “Jisung, I’m close—” You’re cut off by your own moan as Jisung starts rubbing at your clit again, building a rhythm to his thrusts into you. 

“Yeah? Fuck, let go baby,” He grunts as he bends down, his cock twitching inside of you as he kisses your lips before tucking his head back into your neck, lapping at your skin as he keeps up his speed with his fingers on your clit and his thrusts inside you. Your body curls up as your orgasm crashes into you, hands hugging at Jisung’s shoulders tighter as your thighs squeeze around his hips, keeping him in your pulsing core. Panting, you release your grip from his hip, bringing your leg down and patting Jisung’s head, wanting to kiss him again. 

As he pulls away from you, you lean up and plant a kiss on his lips, chest bursting with the affection you feel while coming down. Jisung pulls his cock out from you, going slow as to not overwhelm you. He pulls off his condom, not having cum yet as his cock smacks against his stomach, the precum from the tip joining the light sheen of sweat covering his body. He fists his hand around his cock, tugging and pumping himself to a finish. You’re too spent to give him a helping hand, but you decide you haven’t spent your mouth enough.

“Pretty boy, you’re doing so well,” He hunches over your body at your words. “Looks so good fisting your own cock like that,”

“Fuck,” He groans, “If you keep going I’m gonna—”

“Cum baby, make a mess on me,” You run your hand up his thigh, before pulling up and grabbing at his hair and combing through the strands. His moan comes out high pitched as his hips stutter into his fist, before a spurt of come shoots out and lands on your stomach. He twists his fist around the head of his cock as he milks it out, before heaving a sigh and slumping down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before he lies by your side, cupping his body into yours. You continue running your hand in his hair as he settles on your shoulder, his cheek poking out which makes you poke at it. A giggle is shared as the giddiness of you two being together in the moment settles in, and when you go to place a kiss at his forehead, you’re reminded of the wetness of sweat all over your body and the slowly drying cum on your stomach.

“Oh, let me go get something,” He gets up and goes to his bathroom, coming back with a few paper towels and a wet cloth. Rubbing down your spent body, he pats you dry with the paper towel before putting them away and plopping down next to you, wrapping his arm around you and tucking himself close.

“I didn’t know you were the cuddly type,” You say as you hug at his shoulders, hands rubbing up and down as a faux massage.

“Well, I mean, I can let go?” Jisung’s nervous front grows again, as he goes to put some distance between the two of you. But before he could get far, you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulder as you hook your leg around his, stopping him from pulling away.

“I never said it was bad; I like this girlfriend bonus.” Jisung’s hair bounces as he pops his head up to look at you.

“Girlfriend bonus? Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Only if you agree to my boyfriend bonuses,” You shrug. He laughs as he places his head back on your shoulder. “What are these so-called ‘boyfriend bonuses’ of yours?” You tap at your chin mockingly as you think.

“You can fuck my boobs next time?” You shrug again. His head whips up faster this time ‘round.

“Are you serious? Don’t joke about it, because if you are I won’t be—” You smack your hands on his cheeks, squeezing his lips into a pout. His shoulders slump at your attempt of shutting him up, eyebrows drooping as he gazes at you, making you laugh at his expression as you squish his cheeks repeatedly.

“Okay, good job guys, take a water break.” Coach Son claps, as everyone shuffles to their bags and grab at their bottles. Jisung’s elbow brushes against yours as he grabs his bottle from his bag next to yours, taking a few light sips before he places it down, looking at you with his cheeks full of water. It takes all his might to not spit the water out as you elbow him back and raise your fingers tauntingly, moving closer as if you’re about to tickle him.

Before you can successfully begin your quest, Coach lets out a sound as to gather you guys back ‘round, clapping his hands twice before waving you guys in.

“Since we’re coming to the end of the semester and you guys have proved to work really hard, I’m gonna conduct one last test to see how much your levels have changed since the beginning of the semester!”

“Oh my god,” You whisper out to Jisung as your hand cups your mouth, wide eyes looking at his as his eyebrows raise in surprise. This could finally be the moment that you can prove yourself, advancing onto a higher level to have an overall better ranking.

“Who wants to go first?” Jaemin steps up and raises his hand, confidently wanting to prove his skills. 

He plays a round with the coach, showing signs of trying his best and knowing how to play, but his reaction speed comes a bit too late as he misses the shuttles by a step. Sometimes two. Sometimes he mixes up his left from his right, but that’s just occasionally. Minji and Ryujin play a round each, and show good improvement throughout the semester.

“You should go next,” Jisung leans into as he whispers, both of your gazes settled on the coach and Ryujin going back and forth with clears being delivered. Your blood rushes quicker at the thought of playing an official round, thinking of all the mistakes you can make that would cost you. 

Sensing your nerves, Jisung places his hand on yours, grabbing it before giving the palm of your hand soothing rubs. “To help with the nerves,” He says when you look at your joint hands questioningly.

“Alright, next player?” Giving your hand a light squeeze, Jisung lets go and ushers you forward onto the court, as you raise your hand slightly, grabbing at your racket once Coach nods you in.

Arranging yourself, you pick up the shuttle left at your side and get into your serve position. You hit the shuttle and serve, commencing the game. You are able to reciprocate most of coach’s deliveries, stepping left and right when needed and angling your racket to optimise your own delivery, but it’s when you’re halfway through the game with Coach Son’s and your score being eleven and ten respectively, coach starts playing with a more advanced method. The drops become more frequent, catching you off guard as you have to run from the back to the front of the court in order to make it to the shuttle, as well as the clears going in different angles making you almost trip a few times as you attempt to make it to them.

Jisung has his fist at his mouth as he watches you from the side, with everyone else in awe at how quickly you’re moving compared to the last time they played officially.

“How did she get so good?” Haechan questions with his hand pressed on his racket. The whole class shifts their head from left to right at the sidelines as they watch you battling it out with their coach, the shuttle relentlessly being delivered with neither of you wanting to lose touch of it.

“It’s the perks she gets for having an almost professional-level badminton player of a boyfriend.” Ryujin’s smile is devoid of any callousness, patting at Jisung’s shoulder as she says this. Jisung can feel his cheeks grow red as he splutters into his sleeve, hiding his flustered expression as the rest of them shout out their reactions.

“All credit goes to her, she’s just a diligent student.” 

“I can be diligent too,” Jaemin bats his lashes as he leans in from Jisung’s other side, but flinches and clutches at his shoulder when Soojin smacks him.

Back on the court, you’re starting to lose your breath when Coach delivers another serve to the back of the court, shuttle going straight as you attempt to create enough distance to successfully hit back. As he does a clear delivery, you position yourself at the back fo the court in order to meet his hit, before quickly centring yourself, preparing for his next move. From a steady pattern of his serves growing in your head, you were more than ready to reciprocate his short hit of the shuttle near the net, as you step forward and hit back.

Usually, you would’ve stumbled to hit the shuttle back at maximum velocity, sending it flying up and giving Coach more than enough time to think of his next move. But from your extra hours of playing with Jisung, you’re picked up the knack of delivering a short end with another short end, making the shuttle travel only the slightest bit over the net and plummeting down into the court. Coach Son is caught off guard when you do this, but his reflexes from years of practise kicks in, and before he could process his actions, he delivers a lob, sending the shuttle high in the air. Jisung gasps from the sidelines, making everyone alert.

He calls out your name, “Smash! Do a smash!” 

With your eye settled on the descending shuttle, you think back to the one class you had with Jisung.

“You hit a clear when the shuttle can meet your hand at twelve o’clock. You have to wait for it to drop to the same level that you’re hand would be at a ten o’clock position to be able to deliver a smash; but remember that you have to keep going with your delivery until your hand reaches six o’clock.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You’re still not sure what he meant, but with the fall of the shuttle, you’re not really at the privilege of recalling things for a long amount of time. 

Positioning your hand at the first base, you wait for the shuttle to be at least a few inches from your head before you reach out, smacking at the shuttle and aiming at the bottom of the court. Coach, who was ready for you to hit the shuttle to the back of the court like you usually do, was not ready for the shuttle which was arriving at a quick pace. In a blink, the shuttle lands just past his ankles, and you’ve officially scored a point.

“Jisung!” You scream once the shuttle lands, looking at your boyfriend who was staring intently at your match. A look of victory glows across his face as his mouth drops in disbelief, eyebrows raised and fists clenched, over the moon at what you had just accomplished.

“I smashed! I did it! I smashed so hard oh my god, I think my arms gonna fall off,” The game is far from done for you to be celebrating like this, but you’re without care when the rest of the class cheers for you, Minji running up to you to give you a hug. You both start jumping with giddy while the rest join in, all while the coach looks at your huddled bunch with a smile on his face.

“This is Juda and this one is Chenle.”

“Why’d you talk about me as if I was a dog?”

“Because you are,” Juda shrugs before she plucks out a Yakult bottle from the packet in her hand, swingin it above Chenle’s face. “Who wants a treat? You do! Who’s a good boy?”

“Nice to . . . meet you guys too?” Jisung’s wave hangs mid air as he looks at Chenle slowly shift from a expressionless face to enthusiastically nodding his head up and down, wanting the drink.

“What did I tell you? You’ll fit just right in with us,” You link your arm through Jisung’s elbow, pulling him into your shared house with Juda before sitting him down on the couch. Juda and Chenle follow after, with the latter having his own bottle open and already emptied halfway. Juda offers Jisung yakult bottle, and goes to pick up the remote, going through the movies to put something on. You quickly grab a few snacks from the kitchen and come back, settling yourself right next to Jisung, leaving no space between the both of you.

“Wait,” Chenle turns to look at you from his positon on the ground, grimacing a bit at the sight of you two cuddled up, before continuing. “What happened with the new ranking then?” Your smile is shy when you look at him and Juda looking back at you expectantly. 

“I got into group B.”

“YES!” Chenle whoops, grabbing Juda and shaking her by the shoulders. “No more whining and complaining and whinging about the class!” You chuckle as you cheer alongside him, with Jisung looking at your interactions with raised eyebrows. 

Laughing, you tuck yourself into his side, linking your arms again as you rest your head on his shoulder. With Juda and Chenle bickering about settling on what movie to watch, you press a quick kiss on his cheek in appreciation.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” You smile at him, to which he grins shyly at. “Even though I lost, the smash pulled me through. Your smashing abilities were so flawless that even I, a young duckling was able to smash through,”

“Okay, thank you for the compliment but maybe don’t say how good my smashing abilities are—”

“You just smash so hard and so well—”

“Please—”

“Jisung the smash master!”

if you liked this, dont be afraid to tell me !

#park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #nct jisung #park jisung smut #park jisung fluff #nct dream smut #nct jisung fluff #nct jisung x reader #nct jisung smut

[swampstew]

1-800-GRANDLINEBLING ♥ Call Me On My Shell Phone

To celebrate 1K+ followers, I opened up phone lines to the crews! Part 1 of 3 ~ X reader (and one OC) with Kid, Killer Law, Zoro, and Sanji for myself, @quinloki @icy-spicy @yamat0 @mandiemegatron and @leftsidebonfire Part 2 | Part 3

You are now being connected to...

Purururu purururu puru—

Kid: Hey babe, I know it’s been a while since we talked. Even longer since I’ve seen ya…and I miss ya…so damn much. I’ll be back from my trip soon and when I do, I’mma make it be like I never even left. Don’t make any plans for the next few weeks - yeah weeks, you’re gonna be stuck with me for a minute! HAAH? Sorry the line is busy, but I’ll see you real soon. I love you.

Waking up to start your morning routine, you were interrupted when you heard a commotion in your backyard. Hurriedly, you investigated and found that some kind of animal had gotten into your she-shed and left a mess. After you cleaned it up, you went back to your bedroom and was stunned to find your bed made up and decorated with flowers and treats.

"KID!" you squealed as the giant scooped you up from behind, burying his nose in your neck, softly kissing your skin until he reached your lips. Ravenous as he sweetly but impatiently kissed you, leaving traces of his favorite red shade smeared all over you.

"Hey," he finally whispered, kissing your cheek, "Get dressed, I'm taking you out. I have a whole day planned for us."

Killer: Hey gorgeous, it's good to hear your voice. Man I really miss you, actually we'll be docking very soon. Is it alright if I take up your day and night? Heh, you're so sweet. I'll be sticking around for a bit before the next trip, and I'd like to spend that time with you. Yeah? Awesome. I'll be there soon. I'm cooking you the best pasta you'll ever have!"

Killer did not specify which day he was visiting, which made you all the happier when someone knocked on your front door and it turned out to be your new beau. You giggled as he scooped you into a bear hug, your legs lifted off the ground by his strength and height difference.

"Mmmm there she is," he sighed behind his face mask, nuzzling your face to push the fabric away. "Gods I missed the way you feel in my hands," he kissed your cheek softly.

"Kiiilllller not outside," you whine.

"As you wish," he huffed, rushing inside and kicking your door close as you left out a delighted shriek. "We won't be cooped up in here all the time though, I think I owe my girl some spoiling and pampering."

Law: Hey. It's been a while hasn't it? How are you? Thanks, I'm doing ok, I'll be better when we dock on land. The crew is going to do their own thing but I'm hoping I can stay with you and make up for lost time. Yeah? I like the sound of tha--wait, dancing? You know I can--tch--Shachi needs the phone. We'll talk when I see you. No, you're not convincing me to go dancing.

Bitch he thought.

Law landed on your island and it took all of 2 hours before you dragged him to the comic book store. A simple route to throw him off his game - so when your day trip transitioned to lunch date, to at-home-nap, to dinner with friends, to the rave party down the block, he couldn't help himself but follow you into the booming building. All it took was some peer pressure, shots, a lot of tequila, and some glow in the dark bracelets. He's down so bad for you.

Zoro: Hello? Is this thing even on? Oh you can hear me! Good. We'll be on dry land soon enough, and if you want to hang out or whatever, I'm ok with doing that. TCH No, I don't need you to pick me up, I can find your place on my own. Yes I'm sure! I--hm I have to go, the stupid cook needs the snail. I uhm, look forward to seeing you.

You were pleasantly surprised to find Zoro on your doorstep, on time exactly like he said he would be. You didn't miss the way Franky zoomed away on his motorcycle, all sly-like.

"Told you I knew my way around," the swordsman scratched the back of his head, a pink hue grew on his cheeks as his eyes looked everywhere but you.

"Sure, sure whatever you say Marimo," you grin cheekily, and that made him more flustered.

"TCH, annoying ass. Look we don't have to hangout--"

"Shut up, annoying man!" you bite back, the curve of your lips growing wider as you antagonize your crush.

With a huff, Zoro finally looks you in the eye, the blush on his face deepening, "With an attitude like that, I know exactly what we're going to do first. Hope you still have your sparring gloves."

Sanji: MON CHERIEEEEE!!! I've missed you every day like a plant misses the sun on a rainy day. We'll be making port in a day and I can't wait to show up on your doorstep with my heart - no, not literally, I know that freaked you out the last time. Do you need me to pick up anything? You always say 'no its ok,' but I swear you're never inconveniencing me! I swear on the mosshead's life! I'll see you soon my love.

As promised, Sanji appeared on your front porch carrying a picnic basket full of goods and trinkets he brought from his travels. Delighted, you threw your arms over him and he swung you around once before planting a big kiss on your cheek.

"Oh, I've brought a friend if that's ok," Sanji whispered in your ear.

You looked behind him to find a shy little cow trailing behind the French cook.

"Of course," you squealed happily, "Everyone is always welcome here. Let's warm up some milk for this baby to eat."

#1-800-grandlinebling #call me on my shell phone event #follower milestone event #one piece fandom #swampstew events #kid pirates #straw hat pirates #heart pirates #eustass kid #trafalgar law #den den mushi customizations #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #x reader #eustass kid x reader #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #trafalgar law x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #sanji x oc

[snowfox8382love]

A story while y’all wait?

Hello everyone, I’m kind of busy helping with spring cleaning, we only have a week before we can’t do it anymore so here is a story I made a while back for those who are bored and want something to read.

!!DISCLAIMER!!

(this is a rather sad story involving Dooley dealing with the mermaid’s curse. It involves blood, cursing, and sexual tension.  A warning has been advised.)

  Late night swim.

Dooley's eyes slowly opened to reveal a breathtaking view of the sea. The salty scent of the ocean filled his nose, and he felt the warmth of the setting sun on his skin. He took in his surroundings and noticed the yellow and orange sand beneath him, with footprints leading out ahead of him. The ocean stretched out before him, its vastness and beauty captivating him. As the sun set over the horizon, the sky transformed into a canvas of pink and purple hues, creating a stunning view of the serene scene before him. Despite the beauty that surrounded him, Dooley couldn't help but feel a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. Was he lost? How did he end up here? These questions raced through his mind. Before he heard it, McQueen's voice echoed further off in the distance.

"Dooley! Come on!" McQueen shouted, waving his arms to Dooley, a small smile on his face.

Dooley's heart beat slowly as he saw him, tears grew in his eyes. Was it him? Was it really him, or was this a sick joke? Dooley didn't care as he ran, faster and faster. Yet the further McQueen seemed to become. But he wasn't moving his legs, nor was he running to Dooley as well. His eyes soon glanced back to the sea, as he saw it.

The waves...seemed to be getting larger, and were they changing in color? They were, they were becoming red...a deep shade of red. A red Dooley knew, his heart raced as he looked back at McQueen, his expression not changing, from his warm cozy smile, and eyes that felt like they stared right through him. The waves getting closer and closer to McQueen's feet, Dooley opened his mouth to scream, yet nothing came out. He stopped trying, running faster and faster, finally seeming like he was getting closer to pull him away from the ocean's grip.

McQueen looked out at the sea, and so did Dooley, to see the large waves above both of them as he could hear McQueen speak.

"Dooley, I'm sorry. I know we talked about growing old together...but this is where my story ends...please take care of yourself."

Dooley quickly looked back to him as the wave consumed McQueen whole, he screamed with all his heart before the wave did the same to him.

The water felt warm as it covered his body, he held his breath, but the pressure felt like cars balancing on his chest and back, his arms numb and weak. His eyes closed tightly, as he could smell the salt from the ocean mixed with a metallic scent peeking through. Before he felt it, his eyes opened widely as he saw him. The curse that had ruined both of their lives. The curse that broke McQueen's mind and body.

Dooley looked at McQueen above him, his tail wrapped around his body, squeezing his chest more and more, his eyes looked empty and void of any color or light, just darkness. The fins on the sides of his head vibrated as he leaned in closer to Dooley's face. His lips were inches away from his, Dooley wanted to pull away, but it was like he had no control over his body. McQueen's hands were on Dooley's arms, his claws digging deeper into his soft skin, the blood danced in the water around them making the ocean darker...and darker. Yet nothing seemed as dark as the eyes that stared at him.

It soon became too much to hold as he opened his mouth to see the bubbles covering his face, as the darkness faded away, but not the pressure nor the pain in his arms from the claws that pierced his skin. When the bubbles were gone, he could see a ceiling, with lighting he had only seen in one place. McQueen's old bedroom...If it was like how Dooley remembered it, he slowly turned his head to the right seeing him. McQueen in his white tank top, the blankets covering the rest of his body, as he clings to his arm while reading a book. McQueen soon glanced his gaze up to him before saying softly and worried.

"Bad dream? Do you need me to fall asleep with you again?" His voice was soft and warm, comforting and calm.

Dooley didn't know if it was real or not, only staring at him, too afraid to blink or breathe. He didn't want this to be a lie as well. His eyes were normal, and his heart froze at just the sight of them. Dooley's hand was placed on McQueen's cheek, feeling how warm and soft his cheek was. Leaning his head against McQueen's breathing heavily before muttering under his breath.

"Please don't be a lie, not again. Please don't be." His voice was weak and shaky.

McQueen didn't say anything, placing his hand on Dooley's, intertwining his fingers with his. Time felt slow, soon McQueen closed his eyes, breathing slowly, as Dooley followed his breathing pattern. He refused to close his eyes, if this was still a dream, he didn't want it to end. He didn't want to wake up to the empty apartment, with McQueen stuck in that form...To open his phone and see the text messages from people he knew telling him to give up. To let him go, to hear them call him sick for even keeping McQueen away from the sea.

It felt like hours had passed, Dooley's eyes felt heavy, and McQueen gently pressed his lips against Dooley's, a soft color of pink covered his cheeks. Soon McQueen pulled himself closer, his other hand leading Dooley's free hand to McQueen's waist. Dooley didn't feel it, his mind was only focused on the kiss, his lips...they felt cold and a little wet. McQueen soon pulled away from the kiss, his breath heavy and warm.

"I missed you, Dooley." His voice was soft and rough, Dooley could feel his face covered in a hot pink blush.

McQueen pressed his body against Dooley, kissing him again, his hand that was leading up his hand softly hovering up his arm. Soon stopped at his shoulder, gripping tightly, his kiss trailing off his lips to his neck. Dooley couldn't help but moan under his breath. It was hard to keep his eyes open, soon his arm pulled in closer, laying his head on McQueen's shoulder.

"McQueen, I missed you too, please don't leave me again." His voice was rough and hot to McQueen's shoulder, as he heard the water run.

"But Dooley, don't you remember? You already left me behind." McQueen's voice was hollow and cold.

Dooley froze at his words. He shivered as he pulled away from McQueen and looked back into his eyes. When he saw them, he bolted away from him, falling off the edge of the bed. Fear covered him, looking back up at McQueen.

"Are you going to leave me behind again, Dooley?" His empty voice said while laughter followed behind it.

As Dooley saw them again, the eyes of the empty void filled him with fear and anger. Why couldn't he leave him alone? Was it not enough that he already stole away his best friend and partner, but now he couldn’t have one normal night of sleep?

McQueen slithered off the bed, the sheets sliding right off to reveal the shark's tail where his legs should have been. McQueen tries to close the distance between them, saying in a low voice, "Are you leaving me behind again, Patrick? What, you're not strong enough to save me at all?"

Dooley shouted back, tears in his eyes, fear and anger his only shield. "STOP IT, NO, SHUT UP!"

McQueen kept getting closer, and Dooley could see his sharp teeth glow in the dim room. The sound of the teeth clicking grew as he said in a weak sad voice.

"Patrick, you're breaking my heart, why are you yelling at me..." His need to get closer stopped, his breathing slowly getting heavier as it started to sound like a growl, growing in pain.

McQueen's body looked like wax melting, as his eyes slowly gazed back at him, his large shark teeth barely closed to see the big puff of heated breath come through. Before Dooley could tell what McQueen wanted, he saw his hand reach high above his head, screaming in an ear-piercing shout.

"I SHOULD BE YELLING AT YOU!?" His hand rushed to slash at Dooley, missing and hitting the floor next to his leg, as he started again, shouting even more!

"I HAVE BEEN STUCK LIKE THIS FOR HALF A YEAR!? HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE MADE ANY PROGRESS-"

McQueen struck his hand inches away from Dooley's eye before he shot out of bed, seeing the room he knew. The dark gray room, his bed in the corner. Dooley breathed heavily, looking around in fear. "Was it real?" he kept repeating over and over. Soon noticing the bedroom door slightly open, he sighed as he looked down to see the cursed mermaid-formed McQueen cling to him, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

Dooley slowly picks up McQueen and takes him back to the tank in the bathroom. His emotions felt frozen, as he slowly and safely placed him in the tank, ignoring his chirps and clicks as he closed the door behind him.

Dooley slowly slid his back down the door as all the emotions finally hit him, his hands rushing to his face crying softly in the hope no one would hear.

[leafdrake-haven]

Perenian Hospitality: Chapter 1

I don’t know how long this will end up being but this is the story of Rhynn and Helis meeting for the first time! It takes place shortly after War of the Spark. Elrick encourages Rhynn to take her mind off of everything that just happened by being daring and going someplace entirely new. She winds up on Perenia. I’ve got a little more written than what’s here but this seemed like a naturally pausing point for now. Enjoy!

It was somewhat cloudy on a warm afternoon, shortly after midday. A slight breeze nudged the puffy clouds around, which offered cool patches of shade wherever their shadows lazily fell. In the forest below Helis was napping on a wide branch of a tall tree. To him, this was the perfect kind of day. He stretched out his body, letting out a satisfied grunt as he felt all his joints pop back into place. He stretched out all the toes on his taloned feet and then dug the claws into the warm wood. He enjoyed the satisfying feeling of his talons sinking into the soft outer part of the wood. He yawned deeply and arched his back like a cat after a nap. It really was the perfect kind of day. Though honestly, every day on Perenia was the perfect kind of day if you looked at it right. A day people complain of as being too hot? Perfect for visiting the cool pools of the outer swamps. The mud there is soft and good for cooling off hot, dry skin. A day too cold? Perfect for enjoying some hot mulled cider with some of Hiviny's finest honey. Svellmani herself brings winter early and there's a week-long blizzard? Perfect for heavy, delicious meals all week, more honeyed cider, and seeking out companions to warm up with. Helis smiled to himself. Yes, life truly is wonderful if you look for it to be. After his ordeal on Ravnica, he figured he may never feel the need to leave his perfect corner of the multiverse ever again.

"ARRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!! What are you doing with my fruit, you thieving miscreant!?" Helis started out of his reverie as the peaceful silence of the forest abruptly ended with a hoarse voice screeching nearby. "You cruel, arrogant creature! Do you even know what you've done?!"

"Sounds like Madam Crabapple has found a new poor soul to torment," Helis laughed to himself. This was an event usually worth checking out so he quickly finished his post-nap stretches and jumped to some nearby branches so he could get closer to the commotion and watch without being seen. As he climbed towards the yelling he finally got to a vantage point where he could see the large, agitated treefolk. The source of her ire was a young human woman who looked very out of her element while clutching a shiny green apple. One that happened to match the rest hanging from the upper branches of Madam Crabapple. "Oh the poor dear," Helis said to himself with amusement as he settled in his hidden spot to watch.

"I'm so, so sorry m’am! I had no idea, the fruit all looked so inviting. I-I thought they were hanging from a regular tree. If I had any idea a dryad could grow so--" the woman was cut off.

"A dryad? A DRYAD?! You think that I am one of those aloof, frivolous twigs dancing out in the moonlight?" The poor woman blanched.

"Oh sweet thing, that was not the thing to say," Helis whispered to himself and propped his face onto his chin.

"Thinking me to be a plain old regular tree is bad enough, but a dryad? Ugh, I cannot believe humans these days!" Madam Crabapple glared at the woman who was clearly at a loss of what to say. There was a bit of an awkward silence before the woman realized she wasn't being berated any longer. She had the look of someone who was used to knowing just what to say to diffuse a situation, and yet here she was, stumped. Helis almost felt bad with how amusing the whole situation was. The woman took a long but shaky breath. It seemed to settle her a bit.

"My sincerest apologies again. Both for stealing the fruit and for the double mistaken identity. I have just never met a.. uh?" she paused and stared questioningly at Madam Crabapple, who renewed her glare at her.

"A treefolk, girl. I'm a treefolk," she growled. The woman looked mildly relieved, she thought she was getting somewhere. Poor thing.

"Yes, a treefolk! Of course, how could I be so dense!" she placated.

"Ah, she knows how to play! Madam does love self-deprecation," Helis mused. Indeed the treefolk appeared to be calming. Helis knew better though, she was preparing a second wave of criticism. The woman offered up the apple as if it were a precious jewel as she continued to speak.

"I offer back your apple, which I took out of complete and utter foolishness. I hope you can forgive my thoughtlessness." She looked up to Madam Crabapple expectantly. The old treefolk held her gaze but said nothing. The woman began to fidget under the scrutiny, shifting her weight from side to side. Helis grinned; it was kind of endearing. Madam Crabapple began to move closer to the woman, her limbs creaking as she slowly moved.

"Tell me girl, where do baby trees come from?" Madam Crabapple sounded calm now, but there was a dangerous tone hiding in her voice. The woman looked nonplussed, this was not the direction she was expecting this to take.

"Baby... trees, m’am?" she asked.

"Are you deaf? Yes! Baby trees! Where. Do. They. Come. From?" she articulated each word sharply and moved closer to the woman, who took a step back and was looking more and more uncomfortable.

"Oh. Well, they-they come from seeds m’am? Depending on the type of tree the seeds can come from pods or cones or..." she looked down at the apple in her hands with a dawning realization of horror, "or fruit." Her head snapped back up to look at Madam, her eyes wide.

"Oh yes, very astute girl. So, where do you think baby treefolk come from, hmmm?" The look on Madam's face was predatory; the woman however looked like she may be on the verge of tears. She clasped the apple close to her chest like one might a child.

"Oh stars. Oh my gosh, I'm-I'm so sorry. I... Is there anything I can do? I'm a healer! Is there some-" Madam cut in.

"A healer! Oh thank Poulios, a healer," she intoned with sarcasm, "What exactly do you think you'd be healing, eh girl? The fruit is detached.” She crossed her arms, making the wood creak like trees in a storm.

“I-in the past, I’ve helped re… reattach…” the woman began but she also started to breathe heavily. Madam further glared at her and she just sunk down to her knees, cradling the apple. Her shoulders began to shake.

“And that Madam, was a line crossed,” Helis sighed. He loved watching Madam Crabapple have her fun with travelers. Watching them squirm and try to appease her while she talked circles around them. It usually ended in amused, if frustrated, laughter. This though? Clearly the woman was going through something and Madam was not receptive to it. Plus, this was a crueler joke than she usually settled for. Helis had seen enough despair after his brief time on Ravnica so it was time to step in.

Helis slid down the trunk of the tree using his talons and walked towards Madam Crabapple and her quarry. As he got closer, he began to saunter and assumed a charming look.

“Why is that the lovely creaking of Madam Crabapple I hear?” Helis purred as he stepped out from the brush. Both ladies snapped their heads in his direction at his sudden entrance. The human woman looked nonplussed and was still cradling the, unbeknownst to her, ordinary apple. Madam immediately set all her attention on him and began to preen.

“Ooo hoo-hoo! If it isn’t young, handsome Helis here to brighten my day,” she cooed while rustling her branches. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise visit?” She fluttered her eyes at him, at least as much as a treefolk could. He smiled.

“Oh do I need a reason to visit my favorite treefolk? Ah,” he turned his attention to the now visibly confused, but still distraught, woman, “Who is your charming friend?” Her bright eyes still looked glassy, but she no longer looked on the verge of tears. He wondered if she was figuring out Madam’s trick.

“Oh, I’m—“

“She’s just some flotsam that drifted south from the Archipelago, look how she’s dressed,” Madam cut in with an annoyed undertone, “didn’t even know what a treefolk was.” The woman bristled at the jab. The way she was dressed was unusual, but it didn’t even look like Perenian fashion to Helis at all. He wasn’t going to bring that up just yet though.

“Now now Madam, that means she is a guest and we shouldn’t be so rude to guests,” he lightheartedly waggled a finger at Madam Crabapple and she batted him away playfully, “And I’m sure after whatever game you two were playing, she’ll never forget a treefolk again.” Helis tried to give the woman a comforting smile, “I am Helis, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Lady….” He trailed off and held out his hand welcomely, hoping to help her up and coax out her name. She just stared up at him blankly, then looked at the apple in her hands, and then up to Madam Crabapple.

“This. This is just a regular apple, isn’t it,” she said flatly. Madam Crabapple let loose a shrill cackle. She then snatched the apple from the woman’s hand and ate the whole thing in one messy crunch herself. The woman blanched before fixing her face back into a neutral position.

“Of course it is, girl! You should have seen the look on your face!” She continued her cackling. “Welcome to Flamoria!” She said with cruel mirth.The woman did not look amused and Helis couldn’t really blame her. He was still working a way to chastise Madam without getting her defenses up too high. The woman seemed to have had enough though. She unceremoniously stood up and dusted herself off.

“Well thank you for the warmest of welcomes. If that’s how kind all folk from Flamoria are, I think I may just make my way back north. Thank you and good day,” she said with a curt nod and made to turn around. Helis couldn’t have that! He was fairly certain she was a planeswalker although he had no real proof yet, just a feeling, and he couldn’t have someone thinking the home of Autumn was a cruel place. He snatched her hand before she could go too far.

“Wait, hold on now. Let’s not end a new friendship like this!” He said with concern. The woman glared at him, with lovely hazel eyes he noted, but she did not fight him. He held her hand lightly just in case, and looked to Madam Crabapple. “Now Madam, we can’t have new people to the land of Autumn think us cruel. Perhaps your usual jokes took a turn more mean spirited than usual?” He did his best not to sound accusatory. If she felt threatened Madam would only double down. She was considering him but did not respond, “Besides, what if she was coming down for her very first proper Autumnal Equinox? The festival starts in a week and imagine if she missed the greatest celebration in all of Perenia just because of one unpleasant first impression?” He was being ballsy but he had to, the woman was still letting him hold her there but he didn’t know how long that would last. Madam Crabapple creaked in place and finally sighed.

“Ugh, FINE. I guess, the joke I played could be seen, in some situations as a tiny bit over the top,” she leaned towards Helis and the human woman leaned away but did not break her hand out of his loose grip, “but Helis, she called me a dryad!”

“I know, I know,” he placated, “but she—“

“Also said I was sorry,” the woman said almost imperceptibly. Helis smiled at her and gave her hand a little squeeze. She kept looking the other way, but squeezed his hand back which he took as a good sign. “Don’t have treefolk where I’m from,” she finished, still quietly. Hmmm. If she was a planeswalker, maybe she had been here before? To know that the Stillfrost Archipelago doesn’t have treefolk, or she’s doing very well thinking on her feet. Or he was wrong and she’s not a planeswalker…

“Alright alright, I’m sorry. Happy now?” Madam Crabapple finally creaked out while starting to tug at stray twigs amongst her branches. The woman turned to her, surprised.

“Oh. Well, thank you,” she smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Madam Crabapple.” Madam looked too distracted with whatever she was doing with her branches to really notice. The woman tugged at Helis’ arm a bit and leaned down to whisper in his ear. He noted she was at least a few inches taller than him.

“Is it weird she hasn’t responded? Did I… upset her again?” Helis leaned up to whisper back in her ear.

“Nah. She just has her ways, we’ll see what she’s up to in a second,” he leaned away and looked her in the face now and with a regular voice, “Still haven’t caught your name though.”

“Oh it’s Rhynn. Nice to meet you, Helis,” she went to shake his hand but realized they had been holding hands the entire time. She burst into a fit of giggles and Helis couldn’t help but laugh himself. She gave his hand one final squeeze and finally pulled her hand away, wiping at the moisture in her eyes. At least they were tears of joy this time.

“Sorry, that was silly. I just… had a lot of emotions in the last five minutes,” Helis smiled his most charming smile.

“Never apologize for laughter my dear Lady Rhynn, for pleasure is what we are all on this world to experience,” as he said it, he bowed dramatically. Rhynn smiled and looked thoughtful. Madam Crabapple laughed and turned around.

“Always the charmer Helis, and here I thought I was special,” she said, but without animosity. Helis mocked outrage and put a hand over his heart.

“Of course you’re special!” He gasped, “I just have an overabundance of charm and I must share it with all the lovely people I meet!” Rhynn snorted at that and Helis crinkled his nose at her. “See, I am abundantly charming!” Rhynn just shook her head, but she did look amused. Good, at least her foul mood from the prank was fading. Madam Crabapple just sighed.

“If you’re quite finished, to end all this on a better note. Here,” she held out a make-shift basket that she had just crafted from her own loose branches. It was filled to the brim with her own bright green apples. She shoved the basket into Rhynn’s torso. She barely recovered from the surprise in time to catch it without spilling any apples. She looked down and then back up at Madam in shock.

“That’s so generous. I, I don’t know what to say! Thank you seems like not enough,” she genuinely looked touched. Helis had to admit he was surprised, normally Madam doesn’t go through this much trouble. Madam bristled and tried to look aloof.

“Well I suppose making a healer think she murdered a child was a bit cruel, even by my standards. HOWEVER, I do think that humans need to grow stronger backbones,” she whipped around and poked Rhynn in the forehead with a gnarly finger as she said it. “Anyway, you two enjoy the apples. Helis, make sure she gets to enjoy the festival, I have to go prepare for it myself, my my just a week? Where does the time go,” she sounded distracted and lumbered away without saying another word. Rhynn just looked down at the basket and then to Helis, dumbfounded.

“So. Does that happen a lot?” She asked him, still looking a little in shock. Helis laughed.

“Madam Crabapple finding random travelers to prank and berate? Yes. Her eventually feeling bad for going overboard and apologizing? Sometimes. Her feeling so bad she weaves a basket of her own branches and fills it with her own apples?” he gestured to the basket in her arms, “That’s a first for me to see.” Rhynn smirked and looked at him slyly.

“And how many of these pranks of hers do you tend to see?” Helis laughed nervously.

“Oh you know, I just catch them towards the end sometimes,” he said. He didn’t expect for her to catch on to him so soon.

“Uh huh,” she said, still smirking. Helis just smiled and grabbed the basket from her. She did not protest.

“Let me carry this for you anyway, your pack looks unreasonably heavy.” He was trying to change the subject, but it really did. It looked like she really was prepared for a long journey. That would be true for someone from the Archipelago but could still be true for a planeswalker, even if he normally traveled much lighter. “Can’t have you tiring out before we can get on our way to Ornio now can we? We can be there before dark if we leave now!” He flashed her his brightest smile. Rhynn looked a bit caught off guard.

“You want to travel together?” She tilted her head to the side as she asked, “And what’s in this Ornio?” Helis smiled, he was now pretty sure Rhynn was a planeswalker again. There’s no way even someone who lived their whole life in Stillfrost wouldn’t at least recognize the name of the capitol of Flamoria. Especially if they made it this far into the province.

“Why of course the Autumnal Equinox Festival is in the capitol and very heart of Flamoria!” He said with a flourish, “As we celebrate the rebirth and return of our great phoenix avatar Poulios as he ushers in Autumn.” Rhynn definitely looked intrigued. He decided to be cheeky. “You know, much like you folks up in Niflgard do for the Winter Solstice when you placate Svellmani?” He resisted the urge to wink. To her credit Rhynn only looked utterly lost for a second before she fixed her face into a knowing expression.

“Of course! I don’t know where my head is at today,” she mockingly knocked on her own head, “Meeting a treefolk really razzled me for the day,” she finished. That was the final proof Helis needed. No true resident of the Archipelago would tolerate someone from any other province saying they were merely placating their avatar and not celebrating her just as the other provinces celebrate theirs. He smiled warmly at her once more and waved his arm out in the direction they would need to go to head to Ornio.

“So my dear Lady Rhynn,” he gave a slight nod of his head as he said her name, “Would you like to honor me by letting me guide you to Ornio and introducing you to the greatest festival of all time?” He really did hope she would say yes. She seemed like an interesting person and he never really had a chance to get to know another planeswalker before. He didn’t stay on Ravnica long enough for that to happen. It didn’t hurt that she was lovely on top of it all. She smiled timidly and Helis’ hope increased.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to be any trouble,” she began to trail off.

“Of course not, it’s no trouble at all,” Helis said with complete sincerity and Rhynn smiled. “And besides I’m being a bit selfish,” this time Helis did wink at her, “I’d much rather travel the way back to Ornio with company than by myself. Doubly so if that company is an interesting new friend that I can gush about the festival to!” Rhynn smirked this time.

“Well then I may just have to take you up on this offer,” and Helis beamed.

“Well then, onward!” He said dramatically and began to walk. Rhynn fell in next to him. Helis fished an apple out of the basket and offered it to Rhynn. “Want one for the road?” Rhynn actually groaned.

“I’m not sure I can have an apple for a month or two after all of that,” she hid her face in her hands for a second as she said it. Helis looked aghast, but pulled the apple back.

“Now you can’t wait that long. The festival has some of the best apple dishes of the whole year!” He took a juicy bite of the apple he was holding “Mmm, and these are so fresh and tart!” They really were. He forgot how good Madam’s apples really were. Rhynn did look intrigued.

“Well maybe by the time the festival starts I’ll be ready. It’s hard to say no to a good apple dish.”

“And nobody does an apple dish like Flamoria,” he took another bite of his apple, “And these? Hmm these would be perfect grilled up and drizzled with honey.”

“Grilled apples? Really?” Rhynn sounded genuinely surprised and Helis crinkled his nose at her again.

“Yes really. The smokey taste of the fire, the tartness of the apple being softened and sweetened by the heat sort of like it does in a pie but not quite, the richness of the honey. MM!” He smacked his lips together. “Perfection!”

“Hmmm. Ok I’m sold, I might just have to try that,” Rhynn looked thoughtful. Helis laughed, victorious.

“My food ideas are often outlandish but that’s what makes them good.” Rhynn smiled.

“Well maybe I’ll just have to convince you to let me try some of these outlandish ideas.” Helis beamed once more.

“I would be more than delighted to make them for you.”

#tabby writes #mtg fantober #fanwalker Rhynn #fanwalker Helis #Rhynn and Helis #do they need a ship tag? #maybe #tabby’s ocs #tabby’s fanwalkers #i have too many tags but i need them all

[rina-writes]

November

A/N: I have been patiently waiting for someone do a no-nut November with Jack. *Thanos voice* Fine, I’ll do it myself

Warnings: SMUT (light degrading, body fluids, oral giving and receiving, penetration), 18+, DNI if you are a minor or sex makes you feel uncomfortable, AFAB!reader

Summary: Jack and his friends have a bet going: whoever completes no-nut November wins. Everyone expected Jack to be out of the running, but he’s the only one without even as much of a slip up.  Falling behind, Urban and Druski partner up to get Jack his Kryptonite, you.

You knew this was a set up the moment the call flashed on your screen. Urban never FaceTime’d you before.  In fact, the only conversations you had were when you emerged from Jack’s bedroom in the wee hours of the morning to get a drink of water.  The conversations weren’t awkward, despite him just coming from his midnight pee and you wearing the clothes his best friend entered the house wearing. As a thank you for not making it a big deal, you would leave a portion of the breakfast for Urban on the side.  The added bonus was Jack’s little frumpy face when he denied that he was disappointed the breakfast wasn’t just for him. You never even stuck around long enough to see if Urban ate the food. You were usually out the door and on with the rest of your day the moment the last dish was dry.

You checked your appearance in the mirror. You had just come home from school/work, so you still looked presentable. You fluffed your hair and patted your lips together to distribute the last bit of lip gloss across your lips.  You opened the call and smiled.

“Hi?” You asked, not masking your confusion.

“Hey, Y/N!” Urban said with a smile.

You hadn’t seen him from this angle. Or, in the daylight. And you realized he was pretty cute. The long sandy blonde hair, bright greenish-blue eyes and the full pink lips made him seem more like a Cali surfer boy than a photographer from Kentucky. His signature bucket hat obscured part of his forehead, but you could still see the mischief dancing in his shaded eyes. You also noticed that there was a someone sitting next to him, but only the person’s arm was in your view.

“What’s up?” You asked, dragging your words out with a wave of your head. It was your indication that you wanted to cut to the chase.

“How’s it going?” Urban asked.

“Man, come on--” You heard someone say off camera.  You recognized the voice immediately and already started laughing. Druski knew how to make an appearance.

Urban’s phone was ripped from his fingers. You saw Urban and Druski fighting over the phone, the camera blurring everything. You laughed a bit harder, walking around your apartment as you continued the rest of your routine. You figured this would be awhile.

Finally, Druski came into frame. His dark brown eyes gave Urban his signature side eye. You realized that Druski was cute too.  He dressed well, knowing how to lift his caramel complexion with warm colors. His smile  brightened up his whole face and was infectious. He was a great hugger too, always happy to give a hug even you two only met a couple of times. 

Gosh, it’s been so long that you’ve been laid that your simping over Jack’s friends.  Two people you never thought about hooking up with prior to this dry spell.

Jack’s friends. Jack. It had been a few weeks since he had asked you to meet up with him. Sure, he was on tour, but that never stopped from flying you to his next stop for a night of fun. Your first thought was that if Jack didn’t hurry up, you may very well take up these dudes on whatever offer just to get some.  Your second, much much less horny, thought was that perhaps there was something wrong with Jack and they needed your help.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Y/N.” Druski said, clearing his throat. “We don’t want to waste too much of your time, but we are kind of in a bind here.”

“Well, if it’s in my power to help, I’ll be glad to assist.” You said, sitting down on a chair.

“Trust me, you’re the only one who can save us now.” Druski looked to the sky like he was waiting for a sign from God and you chuckled.  There was something about funny men, and this dude was funny. 

Druski continued, his expression getting a bit more serious, but still a hint of mischief lingered in his smirk.  “I’m sure a cultured lady like yourself has heard of No Nut November?”

“Uh huh...” You nodded, looking suspicious.

“Well, a couple of us guys have a bet going to see who can go the longest.” Druski explained. “Now, you know how Jack is. We all thought he would be out of the running by November 2nd. But somehow, he is still holding on.”

“I see...” You bit your lip, wondering what your part was in all of this.

“Now, it’s down to Jack and one of the other dudes from PG. But honestly, I don’t think that guy is going to hold out for long.” Druski shook his head.

“The guy’s girlfriend is coming to town.” Urban added, sticking his head into the camera, but you could only see his left eyebrow. “We basically have till Saturday to make sure that Jack breaks down and then we all lose the bet.”

“Oh boy...” You knew where this was going now. “...you better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“We need you to seduce Jack.” Druski said it so seriously you thought you were about to take an oath or something. “Our dignities and wallets depend on this.”

“I have so many questions.” You made a confused laugh. “First off, why me?”

Druski’s eyebrows wiggled and even Urban leaned more into the camera to look at you.  You blushed a little bit, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“When you sleep with Jack, he’s like a new person.” Druski shook his head with a laugh. The deep throaty laugh he makes when he knows something the other person doesn’t. “He is addicted to you. And, like don’t take this the wrong way because you are very fine, but there are other fine women Jack is around and he doesn’t get giddy like he does with you.”

Normally, you would gloat a bit. Say something like “Well you know I have a certain, how do you say, je ne sais quoi.”  But you were too embarrassed under their gaze. I mean, Jack doesn’t kiss and tell, but you were sure there were things he may have mentioned that you had done. You didn’t want to say anything that revealed anymore.

“That’s flattering...” You recovered a bit from the straightforward remarks. “...but why is it so important? How much did you bet?”

“$100,000.” Urban said so quickly that you thought you misheard it.

You choked on your spit. “100 Gs?” You asked to which both men nodded.

“We were messing around, put a bunch of money in and now here we are.” Druski groaned loudly. “Christmas is coming up, Y/N. I can’t afford to be tossing a few thou’ because Jack refuses to choke the bishop in the next couple of weeks.”

“That’s a good point!” You thought out loud. “How do you know he hasn’t jerked off or something?”

“Because he keeps going on and on about it.” Urban complained, taking the phone back. “Like on the one hand, he’s really cranky all the time because he hasn’t relieved any stress. On the other hand, he keeps talking about all this clarity because he isn’t clouding his mind. He has too much pride to keep up the charade if he failed.”

“So, if I do this, the worst is that you all get your money back?” You asked. 

Both men nodded.

“Well, what’s in it for me?” You smiled a bit. “I mean Jack isn’t going to fly me out and I believe you are in--” 

You paused to look it up, but Urban answered for you. “Miami.”

“That’s pretty pricey, especially at this time of year.” You shook your head with a whistle. “I don’t know if I could afford that.”

Whether you could or not was irrelevant. It was important to get something out of this. You weren’t going to just be a booty call. Especially if Jack wasn’t even the one making the call.  You appreciated the casual relationship you both had, but you had to show you were still a top-dollar gal.

“I mean, you get to have a great time with Jack?” Druski offered. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Nice try.” You smiled. “Look I need to get a flight, a place to stay because I can’t guarantee that I will be with Jack the whole time, and spending money for me to use to get ready. My hair and nails need to be done. I also may want to buy a few pieces to wow him too.”

“How much money we talking here?” Druski asked.

“Less than 100K.” You smirked.

There was a silence. You could tell they had muted and were deliberating between themselves. You sat there, unbothered, it was none of your concern.

“Alright.” Urban said, “We can cover your flight and a hotel for the weekend. So, you fly in Friday afternoon and leave Sunday evening. We can also give you $2,500 to spend on whatever you need for the...eh...you know.”

“$3500.” You took a negotiations class, you knew how this worked.

“$3,000.” Urban said back.

“Deal.” You grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentleman.”

“Trust us, the pleasure will be all Jack’s.” Druski said with a big grin.

Jack was feeling great. When he woke up it was a bit rough. He had a morning wood and it took everything out of him not to just relieve himself. But, once he resisted, he felt like he could take over the world. He was enjoying the after party to one of his shows. Technically, it was the after-after party. They rented out the lounge inside of their hotel to just chill with a smaller circle. It was his PG guys, his team, and some beautiful ladies hoping to get lucky. 

Most of the guys had already tapped out of no nut November and were more than happy to flirt. Jack kept his resolve. He sat in his chair and nursed his drink. He was laughing and joking with everyone comfortably. He saw someone being allowed in and his blue eyes naturally glanced over to see who it was.  His jaw dropped.

You walked in with a couple of women he didn’t recognize. The women waved over to some of the other ladies in the room, dragging you along with them. You were wearing a skin-tight violet mini dress with tiny spaghetti straps that left very little to imagination. Your heels made your legs look long. Your hair was up and you were wearing his favorite lip stick color on you: a pinky coral. Jack licked his lips, his eyes dancing between your chest and your backside, unsure of which ones to go for first.

A tent was growing in Jack’s pants and he swallowed hard. How did you get here? He did everything in his power to make sure you didn’t show up. He was going to bust just having you in the room.

You pretended to be enthralled in the conversation with the other women, but in reality, you were looking at Jack from the corner of your eye. It seemed to be working. He had finally closed his mouth after staring at you for at least two minutes. You couldn’t believe Druski doubted you. The set up of having some of his female friends meet you and bring you to the party was what made this seem really spontaneous. You were also glad you splurged on hair and nails. It made your confidence soar so you weren’t worried about your curves in your teeny dress.

You finally looked at Jack, making sure to make eye contact. You smiled brightly, not even pretending to do the “I had no idea you were here.” You strolled over to him confidently. Jack stood up as you walked meet to him.

He looked good. Very good. His beard was neatened, his light brown curls were popping and he had on those rimless glasses that made him look like a sexy hipster. He was wearing a sleeveless black mock neck, dark jeans and a black blazer. You couldn’t wait to rip off every piece of clothing.

Jack gave you a hug, his hand lingering on your lower back. You felt his hand rub gently back and forth on the space. You smiled to yourself. That’s right, Jack, no panty line. What could that mean?

“Hey, what brings you here?” Jack asked, pulling back from the hug.

“Girls weekend.” You said gesturing to the group of girls. “One of them said that Druski was having a party and I crossed my fingers that you would be here.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked.

You danced your fingers up his chest until they reached his chin, playing with his beard. “I mean, you haven’t called me in so long. I figured it would be about time I find you myself.”

“Well...” Jack smirked. “You’ve never been this eager before. Your other guys not doing for you?”

“No one does it like Jack Harlow.” You looked up at him through your lashes.  

Jack swallowed hard. “Is that right, baby girl?” He asked.

You ears perked up.  That was his pet name for you when he wanted to do the nasty. You wondered if it was conscious.

“That’s right.” You looked at him expectantly. Jack liked girls who knew what they wanted, but he liked to be the one to take charge. You were waiting for him to take the bait.

Jack cleared his throat. “Well, how have you been?”

You frowned. Jack didn’t do small talk when he was horny. What the heck was this? “I’m good. School’s/Work’s alright.”

“Yeah?” Jack nodded intently. “Same here. You know, I am on a real high right now. The guys and I are doing no nut November and my mind is so clear. I just like drink tea, meditate...”

You nodded politely, your eyes darting around the room, noticeably. They fell on Urban who was doing his best not to look at you. Good. He follows directions well.  Jack’s voice trailed off when he saw you looking in Urban’s direction.

“Is, uhm, Urban doing the challenge as well?” You asked.

“He was, but he failed a couple weeks ago.” Jack chuckled. “He got a lap dance--”

“Uh huh.” You said, cutting him off.  You never cut Jack off and you felt bad about it. But, desperate times.

“Why?” Jack asked, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

You peeled your eyes away from Urban to look at Jack. “Look, I’m really happy for you and...your clarity. But, I am not doing this little challenge. I came here hoping to having a good time.” You turned your attention back to Urban as you added, “I’m happy to talk about your clarity during pillow talk in December, but mama needs to work the room if I am going to leave here with anyone.”

“And you want, Urb?” Jack asked, his voice a bit higher than usual.

You quirked a brow and looked at Jack. “Is that a problem?”

“Uhm, yeah?” Jack folded his arms. “He’s my best friend. Have I ever slept with one of your friends?”

“Probably.” You shrugged.  You and Jack weren’t a couple, nor exclusive. You didn’t rule it out.

“Well...” Jack knowing he couldn’t rule it out either added, “not your best friend, I’m sure.”

“Jack, you don’t even know my best friend.” You laughed. “It’s nothing personal, Jack. It’s just, well, I don’t know anyone here. I much rather go to the room of someone I at least kinda know. Wouldn’t you want me to be safe?”

“Yes.” The response was terse and through gritted teeth.

You reached up and stroked Jack’s jaw. You lifted upward to kiss his cheek and turned to walk toward Urban. You had briefed Urban on the plan. In the likely chance Jack rejected your initial advances, you would go over to Urban and flirt. The most you would do is sit in his lap. You expected Jack would peel you away before you had to do anything else. Worst case, you would leave the room with Urban and stake out Jack’s room for when Jack ultimately retreated.

None of that happened.

Your foot lifted to walk away and before it hit the ground, Jack’s hand on your waist spun you to him. The whole room was turning as you lightly slammed into his chest.

“I don’t like sharing.” He said, his eyes dark as he stared down at you. “Now, baby girl, say goodbye to your friends.”

He pushed you toward the exit, his hand firm in the small of your back. You felt like you were on an amusement park ride the way he pushed you so quickly. You waved at the girls and you swore you heard a high five between some of the guys behind you. You didn’t really care, your real payment was about to hit.

You waited by the elevator in silence. You could tell Jack was mad, but you couldn’t tell if it was “defile you in the elevator” mad or “wait till we get in this room” mad. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the elevator door opening. Jack smacked your ass so hard it almost echoed.

It was definitely “wait til we get in this room” mad.

You were shaking with anticipation. You rode to the top floor, still silent. You reached your hand over to touch Jack’s groin and he hissed.

“Don’t you dare...” He turned to you, staring down at you from under his glasses. “You’re mine tonight. You’ll do what I say and only what I say.”

You retracted that hand so quick. 

He grabbed your chin, his gaze only intensifying. “You’re going to make this night worth $100,000.”

“I’ll make it worth a billion, baby, I promise.” You said, embarrassed by the desperation in your voice.

Jack smiled a naughty smile. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

The doors opened and you were pushed out once more. He pushed you to his room. You stood there obediently while he opened the door. 

“Go.” He said once the door opened. 

You walked in fully bracing yourself. Jack came at you like linebacker. You were lifted into the air and tackled on the bed. He was panting when he looked down at you. Surprisingly, he looked calculated despite his animalistic display. He grabbed your face to keep you facing forward, as though you would look away.

“You came all this way to get f*cked by me, huh, princess?” He asked.

His other hand played with the hem of your dress. “Looking so good for me. Testing me.” He gave your neck an open, wet kiss before sucking on it harshly.

You gasped. It tickled and hurt at the same time. It felt too good.

“You think I don’t know?” Jack spoke in between sucks. “That you were bluffing. Teasing me. Trying to push me. You’ve been very bad.”

You became increasingly aware of the wetness developing down below. He knew exactly what to say to rile you up. He was also taking his sweet time because he knew it drove you wild.

“Now, you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He asked. You nodded, your cheeks hot and your neck spotted from Jack’s tongue.

He leaned back, his knees on either side of your body, as he stared down at you. He slowly removed his blazer and tossed on the chair near his bed. You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to touch him. Jack smiled, grabbing your hand.

“Such a good girl.” He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it. He then brought it to his crotch.

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t remember the last time Jack was this hard. He let go of your hand and folded his arms. You waited, not moving your hand, but feeling him pulse underneath your palm through the fabric of his jeans.

“Well?” Jack asked, quirking a brow. 

You looked at him confused. He bucked his hips into your hands and you coughed lightly; surprised at the force. You sat up, kicking off your shoes before turning on your stomach. You got on your knees running your hands up Jack’s stomach to his shoulders, your whole body moving up his as well. You stared at his lips and leaned in for a kiss.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” He asked, his voice deep and hard.

You shook your head, trying to hide your pout. Jack grabbed the back of your head and crashed your lips onto his. You let out a grateful moan and he took the chance to stick his tongue in your mouth. Your tongue played with his while your lips also tried to capture his bottom one. The kiss was messy and exhilarating. He pulled you back by your hair. His eyes were clouded with lust and you loved it. You slowly rubbed down his body to his crotch. You looked up at him and he nodded with a grunt.

You unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. You pulled it down to pool at his knees and licked your lips. You pulled down his draws. His cock popped out, brushing your nose. You fought back a giggle. Jack would not tolerate a laugh right now, even if you just got boinked by his dick. You opened your mouth to take the tip inside. Jack pulled you back by your hair again.

“You better not bend my shit, baby girl.” Jack said, looking down at you.

“I know what I’m doing.” You said, a little offended.

“Do you?” He teased.

“Never complained before, sir.” And with that you sucked on the tip of his cock.

He sucked air in through his teeth as he gripped your hair tightly. You alternated between sucking the tip and letting your tongue circle around it. You massaged the base of his cock, using your saliva as lube to get more traction. Jack was a mess. It was like he couldn’t remember anything besides your name and the feeling of your mouth. His grip on your hair turned into a scalp massage as you went on. You felt the familiar twitch in Jack’s cock and pulled back. You knew Jack liked to release inside you and Jack was very serious about condoms. No one was getting a trap baby out of him.

“Not yet, princess.” Jack said, pumping his cock, smirking at you. “Open wide.”

Your eyebrows went up and you tried to hide your smile as you opened your mouth. Jack spurted a hot load that seemed to fill your mouth to the brim. You swallowed it, trying to hide your alarm. He was moaning up a storm. It was like he emptied everything his balls had to offer over the last 30 seconds.

“You did so well.” He cooed. He pushed you back on the bed. “Now, for your reward.”

Jack had magic hands. You swore they were his best gift. He knew how to touch you in all the right places. He lifted the dress up over your head and ogled you. He smiled.

“This doesn’t really cover much.” He remarked at your tiny thong. You didn’t share that it wasn’t the most comfortable fabric, but it made your ass look great so you wore it anyway. 

“All for you, Jack.” You moaned out instead.

Jack massaged your shoulders and your arms. He reached behind you to undo your bra and tossed it to the side. His hands immediately grabbed your breasts to massage. He took his time, kneading the mounds of flesh, occasionally brushing your nipples with his fingers. He took your right nipple into his mouth and suck it gently, but purposefully, his tongue twirling around it. You clenched your thighs together and moaned out. Jack responded by tweaking your left nipple between his index finger and his thumb. Once he felt satisfied, he moved to the next nipple.

By the time he was done with your breasts, you were already seeing stars. He kissed down your stomach and then looked at you.

“On all fours.” You turned around at his command as quickly as you could in your dazed state.

Jack stared at the curve of your butt with appreciation. He gave you a one of your butt cheeks a hard slap. You moaned softly.

“That’s for cutting me off earlier.” He said, gruffly. 

He slapped the other cheek. “That’s for insinuating you wanted to f*ck, Urb.”

He slapped both cheeks causing you to yelp loudly. “and that’s for being such a good girl just now.”

He laughed a bit before sticking his tongue in your wet core from the back. You arched your back as you let out the loudest moan. You were soaked already, but it seemed your body was ready to do more just for Jack. He reached around your thigh to massage your clit while his tongue jammed into you. Your throat felt dry and you realized at that moment you were screaming. Jack never told you to be quiet. He loved your noises and being free to make them just encouraged you to be louder.

You were getting close and Jack could tell. Since his tongue and fingers on your clit clearly wasn’t enough, he reached forward and started to tweak one of your nipples. That did it. Your body caved and the orgasm was so hard you fell on your stomach. Jack let you lay there while he got up to get a condom. 

“You got me hard again, baby girl.” He said, the pride evident in his voice.

He was back on top of you before you came down from your high. He coaxed you to turn on your back and he did. Staring up at him was too much. You tried to cover you face with your arm but he pulled it away.

“Don’t be shy now.” He teased. “Weren’t shy in the room strutting you stuff.”

“I’m shy cause it’s you.” You admitted, knowing Jack loved it when you confessed things like that.

“Yeah, baby girl?” He asked, positioning himself at your entrance.

“Yeah...” You whispered. You gave another nod signaling for him to enter you.

You both moaned in sync. Him because you were so wet he just sunk in. You because he was so hard that he filled you up immediately. Jack tossed your legs over his shoulders and thrusted into you.

“Yes, yes yes...” You chanted in sync with his thrusts only edging him on more.

He watched everything: your blown out eyes, the shake of your body, the arch of your back. It never failed to mesmerize him. That’s why he came back to you time and time again.

“I’m close....” You muttered.

Jack pulled out and you whimpered. You actually whimpered. You would have been embarrassed if you weren’t disappointed.

“Come on,” Jack said switching positions so you were on top. “If you want it, work for it.”

And that you did. You put your hands on his chest and rode him like your life depended on it. Jack struggled to match your pace at first, but soon you were in sync once more. The only thing you could hear was your moans, his grunts, and the sound of slapping skin.

“God you take me so well.” Jack said, sitting up on his elbows to see the process of being enveloped by you over and over.

“It’s yours, Jack.” You groaned. “All for you.”

“Damn straight.” He said, his head hitting the bed again as he grabbed your hips to guide you.

You clenched around him and Jack watched as you tossed your head back. He gritted his teeth as he released, holding you down to his hips. You both let out a moan, holding still until you felt your orgasms subside.

You got off Jack and laid next to him. You needed a break, and you had about fifteen minutes before he got hard again and wanted another round.  Jack opened his arm, signaling that you could lay on his chest. You did, not wasting the opportunity to lightly stroke his cock while you did.

“Be honest, how much did Druski pay you to ruin the bet?” Jack asked, a tease in his voice.

You  kept your best poker face as you lifted your head to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, princess.” Jack said, giving your forehead a kiss. “You coming here short notice like this. The fact that I’m the only one who was going strong. This has Druski written all over it.”

“I plead the fifth.” You said, putting your head back down.

“Alright, at least tell me how he got your number.” Jack insisted. That was jealous Jack speaking.

“I can’t reveal my sources.” You shook your head.

Jack’s hand snaked between your legs and rubbed your inner thigh. “Hmm, Urb must have been in on it then. That’s why you targeted him.  And he probably has your number.”

Gosh, he was good.

“Does it matter?” You asked sitting up.  “The night’s young and you have me for the rest of the weekend.”

Your hand went from stroking him to full out fisting him. Jack was already pretty hard.  He was ready to go again.

Jack leaned in and kissed you deeply. “I can’t wait. Hope you’re ready, princess.”

~

A/N: Oof that was long to write in just one shot. I kept going back up and adding more warnings as I wrote lmao. I proofread lightly, but apologies for typos. Hope I didn’t miss any warnings and everyone who made it down here enjoyed the ride. Happy November!

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #r-writes-fic

[h2bakugou]

4k special | WAP dance reactions

a/n: it’s here! the big moment!! (edit 9.12.2020 - requests are closed and will reopen again soon!)

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thank you for 4,000 followers, and as of editing, we’re at 4.3k, it’s insane, thank you so much, i love writing, and your support is what makes it possible. here’s to more in the future. thank you for all your love and support <3

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dance credits go to @/ besperon on tiktok!

all characters aged up 18+ au!!

headcanon: them reacting to their s/o doing the wap dance

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, fluff, no smut but 16+

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Before you even start the dance, you’re pumping yourself up. The song is playing, and you’ve just decided you’ll dance to the part when it gets to it.

You practiced hard enough, and you had a few injuries but now you were ready.

Bakugou’s watching you closely. This song was very interesting to him.

All of the analogies in the song are shocking him the more he listens to it. It’s kind of groovy though.

Bakugou’s waiting, and as he reaches for his phone the ending hook comes and he’s frozen as you kick your leg up and begin to dance.

He watches as you bounce back in forth, your curves moving to the music.

He’s shocked by the way you move, he’s never seen you do anything like that before. But he’d certainly like to see you do it again.

“What was that?” Bakugou smirks. You catch your breath and stand up, smiling.

“The new dance I learned, did you like it?” You question, walking over to him.

“Oh I loved it.” Bakugou smirked. You rolled your eyes and sat down on his lap.

“Glad you enjoyed it.” 

“Could you teach me how to do it?” Bakugou’s eyes were speaking for him, you knew exactly what he meant, but before you’d show him the dance privately, you’d worked his ass out and had him learn the dance.

He nailed it-

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

You’ve been practicing this dance for about a week or two now. And you were so excited to see Todoroki’s reaction of it.

“Hey Sho?” You call for your boyfriend and he emerges from his room. You were at his house, and thankfully there was plenty of space for you to do said dance.

“Yes baby?” He asks, standing in the doorway of the large studio you’d been warming up in.

“I have a dance I’d like for you to see me do.” You smile innocently.

“Alright.”

You begin to play the music, just before it gets to the part you’ll be dancing too and Todoroki’s face is already red.

And when the beat drops, you’re kicking your leg up and dropping down to the floor, popping your ass out and going at it.

Todoroki is entranced as he watches you, completely mesmerized by how you’re moving.

It’s so beautiful.

When you get to the split, Todoroki’s eyes widen as you move. He’s blown away.

“That was amazing.” Todoroki compliments. It was hot.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You whisper to him, pecking his cheek as his face reddens even more.

“Hey wait.” Todoroki grips your wrist and looks down. 

“Do you have a few minutes?”

“Do you want a private dance lesson?”

“Yes.” Todoroki whispers.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Be prepared. Because Izuku is going to be a blushing mess before and after.

You’ve practiced, and he’s heard the song you practiced too. It was all over social media and he accidentally interrupted you while you were practicing.

But you shooed him out and finished up alone without any interruptions.

Deku can be a shy boy but he can also be dominant. A true switch.

“You ready?” You ask as Izuku sits down on the couch nervously. He nods and relaxes, sitting back into the dark green sofa.

The music starts and you sway your hips, waiting for the beat to drop, and when it does, you do too.

Izuku’s eyes are glued to you as you kick your leg up and land on the floor, throwing your ass out and following the routine.

Midoriya’s cheeks flush red as he watches, but he can certainly tell how hard it must’ve been to learn the dance, let alone how badass it was as well.

When you finish the dance, you bow and smile at Izuku, who’s trying his best to contain his excitement and fluster.

“That was amazing!” He was proud of you. He knows how hard training can be.

“Did you like it?” You questioned innocently, striding over to him on the couch, taking a seat on his lap.

“I loved it! You did great!” Deku beamed, no longer trying to hide his blushing face.

“There’s a lyric, in this song...”

“Yeah?” Deku’s hands rest on your hips.

“I think I’d like to spell my name out for you sometime.”

»»————-　★　————-««

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

Horny. Jail.

If anyone knows this song, it’s Kaminari. He knows it word for word, and it’s probably one of his most played songs at the moment. Not for its lyrics, but because he genuinely finds it pretty groovy.

He also finds the ‘touch that little dangly dang that swing in the back of my throat’ part funny.

He’s probably also seen the dance a few times, he’s woke when it comes to tik tok culture.

So when he overhears you practicing the dance, he’s very curious.

“Whatcha doin’?” He peaks his head into the room and you quickly snap out of the position you were in.

“Nothing! Go!” You shoo him away with a smile, closing the door so you can finish practicing.

Kaminari has an idea of what’s going on.

So when you perform the dance for him, he’s aware and he knows what he’s expecting, but at the same time, he did not expect it at all.

The way your body moved and flowed with the music, you looked good, really fucking good.

“Shit.” Kaminari cursed, biting his bottom lip as you brought your leg back around, bouncing into the final split as you bounced up and down.

Kaminari’s never really seen you move like that before, but he knows now that he loves every second of it.

“What’d you think?” You ask, stepping over to him.

“I-It was good.” Kaminari had drool leaking from his mouth as he stared at you, his entire body threatening to short circuit.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You lean down and kiss his cheek, knowing that he was going to be smitten for you even harder.

»»————-　★　————-««

eijiro kirishima

»»————-　★　————-««

He’s heard the song maybe once or twice thanks to Kaminari. He likes the song and thinks it’s actually pretty good.

He doesn’t know there’s a dance for it, and he certainly doesn’t know that you’re practicing it.

So when you bring him into your bedroom and sit him down on the bedroom, he’s a little confused.

And when you start dancing, his faces turns a shade of crimson, very similar to the one he dyes his hair.

Your body moves swiftly, and Kirishima’s eyes never seem to leave you as he watches you dance.

From the way you move your hips, to the point of your toes as you kick into the split.

Watching you do something like that is impressive, Kirishima is impressed.

“Wow.” Kirishima utters as you rise to your feet, clapping your hands together with a big grin on your lips.

“Did you like it?” You question, excitement bubbling inside you. It’d taken hours, probably close to a few days in fact, of practice to nail it. And it was well worth it.

You felt sexy, and validated, and strong, and badass.

“I loved it. You did amazing.” Kirishima smiles, trying to ignore the heat on his face.

“You’re blushing Kiri.” You comment, teasing the red-head as you walk over to him.

“I’m not! I’m just...”

“Being manly. I know.” You kiss his cheek and sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Are you tired?” Kirishima asked quietly, his large hands resting on your hips.

“Why? Do you have something in mind?”

»»————-　★　————-««

tamaki amajiki

»»————-　★　————-««

Tamaki is flustered just being around you. He’s a nervous kind of guy, granted he can swallow his nerves when he needs too, but generally speaking, he’s gonna be a blushing mess when you mention even holding hands.

It’s no surprise what this song does to him.

Between the loss of words, and the sheer heat that radiates off of the bright blush on his cheeks, he’s flustered.

Even more so when you begin to dance.

It’s not like he’s embarrassed of sex, or songs that mention it, he just happens to get flustered easily.

Especially when you dance. 

And you dance well.

He’s battling watching you or looking away and not trying to imagine the dance as anything more than a dance. It’s hard, but you wanted him to watch you. Why should he feel bad?

“B-bunny.” He stutters quietly as you transition into the split, popping your hips out, bouncing off the ground.

When the music fades out, he covers his face to hide the enormous blush on his cheeks.

“Awe, Tama-”

“Bunny. T-That was so beautiful.” He stutters, peeking through his fingers to look at you as you approach him.

“Thank you. Are you alright, your face is really red.” You peel his hands away and get close to his face, admiring your boyfriend up close.

“I-I’m fine. J-Just a little hot.” Tamaki gushes, looking away quickly.

“You don’t have to be so flustered about it, I wanted you to see me dance! It’s okay Tamaki.” You kiss his cheek and hold his hands, earning his gaze.

“Bunny.” Tamaki pulls you on top of him and you laugh at him for a second before admiring him even closer.

»»————-　★　————-««

mirio togata

»»————-　★　————-««

Ass man ass man ass man.

He literally sticks his ass out of a bush and you’re gonna tell me he isn’t-

He’s sold the second he hears the song, he already knows what’s about to happen because he’s kind of into the whole tiktok thing.

He watches in antcipation as the song plays, waiting for the moment you drop to the floor.

And he’s so into it. He’s grinning like an idiot, practically drooling over you as your hips move in ways he’d only ever imagined them to move.

More so, when you do the splits, he’s curious about how long you can do them for.

And when it’s over, he’s clapping.

“That was amazing, I had no clue you could move like that.” Mirio hus as you walk over to him.

“I’ve been practicing. I’m glad you liked it!” You smile, giving hin a short hug.

“Could I see those moves again sometime?” Mirio asks cheekily. You giggle and sigh.

“I guess I could teach you a little about them.”

»»————-　★　————-««

hawks/keigo takami

»»————-　★　————-««

This motherfucker.

He knew from day one what you were going to do. Just from hearing the song a little more often from your shared room, and the denial of him entering said room while it was playing-he caught on really quick.

So he did a little research.

And after watching a few videos of people dancing to it, he couldn’t fucking wait.

To see you do those moves? To see you move like that? Oh god he was foaming at the mouth.

He’d purposely try and spy on you while you were practicing, even daring to peep in from the window by flying outside of it.

But at the same time, he wanted it to be a surprise. He’d catch himself in the act of trying to watch you practice and he’d curse himself for being so impatient. Being patient was going to make the final experience even better.

And oh how happy he was to have waited.

Watching you pop your ass and move your hips, laying on the floor and bouncing your ass upward and even doing a split.

He was impressed.

And he was even more so, very intrigued.

“You gonna put all that training to use, Babybird?” Hawks’ sly smile and relaxed position on the couch made the comment that much more sensual.

With his arms stretched out over the tops of the cushions, and his legs pointed outward, you crawled and sat right between them, gazing up at him with bright eyes.

“You’d be lucky if I even let you sleep in the same bed with me tonight, horny ass.”

“Hey- I’m not even in season yet!”

“Shut it bird brain! You can test them out for yourself!” You joked as you got up, walking away from the winged man.

“Oh Babybird, you have no idea.”

»»————-　★　————-««

dabi

»»————-　★　————-««

Much like Hawks, this bastard is way too horny to not know what the fuck is going on when he hears the song WAP playing.

Even more when you practically beat his ass for barging into your apartment without knocking.

“I’m busy! What do you want?” You ask as you push him out of your bedroom, into the hallway toward the front door.

“I’m just checking in on my baby. Is that illegal?”

“Dabi, you’re literally a criminal-”

“A criminal of love baby.”

“Get out. I’ll text you if I need you dumbass.”

Back to practice, it’s tricky. The dance is very fast-paced, but you nail it. after way too many ice-packs and ‘fucking shit’s said later, you have mastered the WAP dance.

Around ten minutes after a ‘come over’ text, Dabi arrives to your apartment.

With candles set out, awaiting Dabi’s blue flames to light them and set the mood, you’re dressed simply in one of Dabi’s favorite outfits.

“Oh baby.”

“Light the candles and sit down.”

With no further questions, Dabi does as he’s told and takes a seat on the couch which he quickly notices is pushed back further than it usually is. Come to notice even more, most of your living room furniture is moved out of the way entirely.

When the music begins, you begin to dance as well, not wasting a second as the lyrics float into Dabi’s ears.

Watching your hips and your ass, Dabi is clearly interested in what you’re serving him. You look good too, but when you move like that, of course he’s going to be a drooling mess.

In a less sexual way, he’s impressed with your moves, he knows training is a big step to anything, so he wonders how hard you worked, and for how long, it took you to master this dance.

“Come here baby.” Dabi ushers for you to come to him with his pointer and middle finger after you finish dancing.

You take a seat on his lap and smile.

“We’ve already set the mood, why not continue? You could give me a private lesson on those moves you just did.”

»»————-　★　————-««

overhaul/kai chisaki

»»————-　★　————-««

He has no clue what you’re doing. You asked if you could show him something and now he’s in a room alone with you.

You’re setting up some music and he can’t keep his eyes off of you and the way you’re dressed. He was thankful he was alone in the room with you or he might’ve had to tell people to step out.

You were his angel after all, not anyone else’s.

When the music starts, his the tips of his ears begin to burn bright red. This music is raunchy and sexy, but he likes it. It’s got a good tune, and it’s empowering, and then he sees you.

You’re swaying your hips to the music until a certain point and you drop to the floor, popping your ass and grinding against the floor, dancing to the music erotically.

He’s impressed. Not as much that you’re dnacing on the somewhat dirty floor, but he’s impressed nonetheless.

“Angel, that was riveting.” Chisaki comments, his arms crossed over his chest. He can feel his pans becoming tight but he decides to ignore it.

“So did you like it? I worked extra hard on it.” You look so innocent as you approach him, your pink lips pursed and begging to be kissed as you stand in front of him.

“I loved it.” Chisaki nods, a smile rests on his lips under his mask unable to be seen.

“I could show it to you again up close if you’d like.” You hint at something a little more physcial which only stirs Chisaki more.

“That sounds like a good idea, angel.”

»»————-　★　————-««

tomura shigaraki

»»————-　★　————-««

I’m not sure if Tomura is a big tik tok guy. He’s into video games, and probably graphic novels too, but depending on his fyp, he probably won’t even get close to hearing the WAP song or know anything about the dance.

That being said, he’s gonna get annoyed if he hears “now from the top, make it drop’ one more time.

Currently wishing he could grip a sound wave and decay it.

But, when you pull him away from a video game, or say a meeting with league and sit him down in a chair in a dark room with some rather unpleasant lighting, maybe just enough to illuminate the two of you and nothing else, he’s confused, but also very interested in what you’re about to do.

And there’s that stupid line- ‘now from the top,’ and- you’re dancing.

His crimson eyes lock onto your figure as you dance, the growing urge to turn the music off suddenly dies as he watches you bounce and pop your hips.

The way your body moves, he’s addicted. Like you’re administering some sort of drug, he can’t look away.

When you lay on the ground and roll onto your back, spreading your legs as you roll into a crawl and then into split and continue to bounce your ass, he’s completely speechless.

The very definition of no thoughts, head empty.

And the aftermath of it all.

forget whatever the fuck he was doing before, forget the grudge he was holding against the lyric’ now from the top, make it drop’, forget the terrible lighting, he’s getting down to the bottom of whatever you just did.

“What was that?” Shigaraki ask, his hands daring to scratch at his neck.

“Did you like it?” You ask, batting your eyes at your flustered yet confused boyfriend.

“I liked it yes.” He mumbles, looking at you from the chair, you’re still sitting on the ground as he stands and walks over to you.

“You’re really flexible. Why didn’t you tell me that before?” He towers over you before squatting to your height.

“Meet me in my room in ten minutes.” He whispers.

»»————-　★　————-««

eraserhead/shota aizawa

»»————-　★　————-««

A man addicted to black coffee and funny cat videos on youtube has no knowledge of WAP or it’s current dance craze on tik tok. But do not let that discourage you.

After hearing the song a few times while you practice your dance, unbeknownst to him, of course, he might get a little curious.

You’re being secretive and it leads him to do a little research. Simply typing in a few lyrics, he finds the song and the dance shortly after.

He’s more or less very interested in what you might have to be doing. Because if you’re learning this dance, he might not know what to do with himself.

Sure enough, you come striding out of your shared room one day, wearing something cute for Aizawa.

“Got a minute?” You ask, pulling him away from grading papers. 

Sitting him on the couch, you step back and turn on the song, smiling as he watches you.

And watch you he does. From the second you kick your leg up, to the second you bounce your ass the last time, ending the dance.

His eyes never leave you. The way you crawl, the way you lay on the floor and pop your hips up, he’s not the least bit uninterested.

“Where’d you learn all that Kitty?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest, his long raven hair parted to watch you even better.

“From the internet. Why? Curious to learn it too?” You tease, crawling over to him.

“Only if you teach me.” He says slyly.

“You’re supposed to do the teaching not me.” You smile up at him.

“Is that how you want to play?” Aizawa smirks and crosses his leg, cutting you off from crawling between his legs.

“You tell me, Kitty cat.”

»»————-　★　————-«« 

masterlist

#bakugo x reader #todoroki x reader #deku x reader #kaminari x reader #kirishima x reader #tamaki x reader #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #aizawa x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #midoriya x reader #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bakugou #todoroki #deku #hawks #kirishima #kaminari #dabi #shigaraki

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v. 

then he turns up at your door. 

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif​ for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within. 

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over. 

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight. 

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed.  It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on. 

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code. 

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time. 

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water. 

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine. 

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.”  The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious. 

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new. 

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed. 

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?” 

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone. 

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one. 

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they? 

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.” 

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper. 

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go. 

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked. 

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs. 

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least). 

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for. 

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good. 

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone. 

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend. 

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way. 

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God. 

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence. 

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things. 

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.” 

Ah. 

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.” 

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new. 

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased. 

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs. 

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples. 

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice. 

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off. 

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs. 

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?” 

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight. 

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality. 

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own. 

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

#btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #bts #taehyung x you #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #look you know the drill by now: I don't know how to tag effectively #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #dbh is so good guys. I love connor. like. an alarming amount.

[courseoflove]

Questions

You have lots of questions for Harry and he tries his best to answer each of them.

a/n: hiiiii, think it’s been almost a year since I last posted my writing and I’m finally back! thanks to @oh-honey-styles‘s new fic slam prompts, I was able to curate something I liked enough to share. usually it’d take me lotssss of drafts to be satisfied and happy with something but this one only took 2! I hope you enjoy it and pleaaaaseee be kind ⭐️😸 I’d love to hear your thoughts!

warning: this is just pureee filth. not really smut, but filthy regardless.

Word Count: 1,775

Harry’s forest eyes ogle straight at you, lips pressed in a tight line and twitching on one side to form a smirk that he tried his very best not to show.

That was definitely the last thing he expected to come out of your mouth. He thought you just needed help with something minuscule, like putting together new furniture, fixing the wifi, or help pick out an outfit; things you’ve urgently called him about before. He never, ever thought you’d call him one day and ask for this, a lesson on blowjobs out of all things.

Luckily, sex has never been a taboo topic between the two of you, considering he’s the first person you yell to when you’re letting out your frustrations about your lack of experiences, or vice versa when he just had an intercourse dilemma that continues to leave an everlasting impact on him. But when you’re asking him about giving good oral pleasure, his brain is suddenly void of any thoughts that should help the situation at hand.

“Quit smirking at me, I’m serious!” Harry flinches when you throw a pillow at him from across the other side of the sofa, instantly wiping the smirk off of his face and instead letting out a soft chuckle when he successfully catches it. You throw him an intense yet jest glare, “just. Today at work. I dunno. I just need to know. I want to know.”

“How d’you suppose I do that?” he asks cautiously, leaning forward to settle his elbows on his knees and prop his chin up with the palm of his hand, “teach you, I mean.”

You’re usually never embarrassed around Harry, despite the many weird and unusual conversations you’ve both had during sobriety and drunkenness. You don’t remember ever feeling even the slightest bit awkward or sheepish when you told him about how IUDs work, or giving him a very vivid description of how exactly you feel during your menstruation cycle. He takes it all in and listens with amusement, sometimes with a bowl of extra-buttered popcorn on his lap.

But right now, in this exact moment, you feel slightly skittish and jittery, as if blowjobs were something you’re just now learning about. He can sense it, especially with the way you’re averting your gaze from his eyes to the silent flatscreen tv nailed on your wall — thanks to him. You’re also doing that thing he constantly scolds you for whenever you’re anxious and nervous, chewing ferociously on your bottom lip and squeezing your fingers into a fist to the point your nails will sink on your palm and pop your veins.

“Stop that, you’ll bleed,” he cuts the silence off, “and answer my question.”

You unclench your fist and turn towards him again, barely making eye contact and instead looking at the lovely framed painting hung on the wall behind him, “maybe just describe it?”

“It’s really not that complicated,” was all Harry said. He leans back against your soft couch, taking both of your feet with his hands and settling them on his lap to crack each of your toes. You flinch a little on his first try, turning your focus and watching his fingers work against your skin, “think of a lollipop. Or popsicles, something of the sorts. You put it in your mouth and just… suck. Lick. Move your mouth, without the teeth.”

Suck. Lick. Move your mouth; the words that tumbles out of his lips causes you to flush, your whole body heating up and turning beet red, the color dancing across your nose and emphasizing your imperfections flawlessly.

What Harry said was pretty accurate. It’s not as detailed as you want but you don’t really know how to ask for that without feeling mortified and even more flustered. He said it exactly how it is; you just put your mouth around it, suction your cheeks, use your tongue and bob your head. But you feel like there was something missing, as if there should be more to that. Well, because there is. You want to know more.

His fingers have started to dance their way to your calf, squeezing the deep tissues there in a tender and leisure massage to try and get rid of your tensed muscles. You’re wincing in between syllables when you finally speak after a couple of seconds, “question. It might be weird. Just… just tell me if you don’t wanna answer.”

His eyes lock with yours when he hums for you to continue, a strand of curl falling over his forehead and tickling his brow while his bottom lip gets caught in between his teeth in concentration. He presses his warm hands on your leg forcefully and harder and it helps calm your nerves and neurons, your habit of overthinking in situations like this disappearing little by little the more he moves. The lack of poise you had minutes ago is lessening and your question is on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst at the seams and be voiced aloud.

With your face turning a lot redder and goosebumps developing on your skin from head to toe out of the blue, you ask with your voice a little lower than it was a while ago, “will you tell me what you like? When.. you know.”

Harry’s movements quickly halt. Another unexpected turn. Another question he never, ever thought would come out of your mouth to ask him.

He lets go of his lip and keeps his mouth agape, irises instantaneously dilating and darkening under your lemon-yellow light and turning them into an even darker shade, like a week old leaf. His brain performs a short circuit for a few moments that passes by in silence before he finally swallows and says, “you want to know what I like when I’m getting head?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, feeling even more ridiculous the more you look into his eyes and open your mouth, “I mean, you have the most experience out of the two of us. That’s why I asked in the first place, but I feel — I feel like your first answer doesn’t really — it’s just not satisfying me. There has to be more to it than just.. sucking, I dunno.”

Sure, you talk to one another about sex casually; what one undergos and encounters and what the other simply has no preconceived notions of. Harry would tell his stories in the least disgusting way possible, knowing you’ll groan out loud and tease him about it if he gives away any sort of detail, but there was almost always zero utterance on your end. No lingering and continuous curiosity. You asking about what he likes when he’s getting head is very much unforeseen and maybe even a bit… amiss, especially for you.

However, he can detect a genuine inquisitiveness in your expression. You’re probably one of the hardest people to read on the surface, but he senses that there was more to that interest than just simply wanting to know. At least, he’s hoping there is.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling a bit weird now the more he gawks at you and doesn’t make a single move to respond. You open your mouth to backtrack when his hesitancy becomes clear, but before you can even take your question back, he’s already mouthing a three-syllable word out loud, “mouth-fucking.”

A low gasp leaves your mouth and the sound doesn’t miss Harry’s eardrums. He should want to take it back, shove the words back in his throat and never say it again despite not being able to. Still and all, he realizes that he likes what you asked and the fact he gave you an answer, a brief one but an honest and precise answer nonetheless. The way your skin warms against the palm of his hands makes him start to sweat, your bare face becoming even more flushed if possible. You don’t really know what kind of answer your mind presumed, but it obviously wasn’t that.

You’re aware of Harry’s self-confidence and boldness when it comes to sex. He has lots of it and it doesn’t come as a surprise. So when he opens his mouth again to explain exactly what he meant, you were able to hold your second gasp back and instead listen in. You can just imagine how filthy he is in bed, considering the description he gives you seems to be even more graphic and explicit, “like normal sex, but I’m doing it to their mouth. I like the sound, the sloppiness of it all, it fuels me. I like being in control, I guess, and no one wants a dry blowjob. I like it really wet.”

You startle both yourself and him when you utter, “what else?”

Harry clears his throat and looks away from your eyes, not because of discomfort because there was absolutely none, but for the reason that the more he stares the more he pictures you inside his head doing exactly what he was evoking. He blinks a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of the colorful conception, yet it just becomes even more lucid and clear-cut. He tries to distract himself by continuing to answer your questions. It definitely doesn’t help. It just drags the mental image on.

“I like it when they let me come down their throat, then swallow it. Or when — when the aftermath of pure bliss just overtakes my entire body. Like, they just pull away for a second then suck me right back in,” the skin on your legs feel sticky under his hold. You swallow at his dazed appearance and tiny smirk, as if he’s picturing it all in his head. And he is, “yeah. I like that a lot.”

Somehow it’s gotten a lot warmer inside the tiny space of your living room, every corner closing in on the two of you in your peripheral vision and you can’t exactly make out the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers and in between your thighs. Well, you do. You know you’re undoubtedly turned on but acting clueless and ignoring it would be the best way to handle it.

You ask him one more question, the last one you’ll emit for the rest of the evening, “and how was it for them?”

Harry turns his head, connecting his darkened eyes with yours. There’s an indecipherable message written all over his handsome face. His voice is heavy, raspier and deeper with his accent when he answers for the last time, a specific implication behind his tone, “one of these days, you’ll see.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry fic #fic slam #harry styles fic slam #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #fluff #harry styles love #fanfic #fanfiction #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #drabble #harry styles drabble #harry styles x reader #my fic ☺️ #harry #styles

[taco-bell-mitchy]

Crush Rindou x f!reader

-A little crush is formed when you see people get beat the living shit out of them

Warning: mild language, soft rin, mentions of violence, some pet names are used,

In the city of roppangi, two infamous brothers roam the streets. Others shivering at their names and bowing in their presence. With a baton in one hand and fist full of hair in the other the other brother, Ran, continued to punch the stranger. Rindou, the younger brother, crouched down staring him in the face tauntingly. This became as daily thing between the two brothers. A past time, a hobby, a cute bonding activity for the two.

While a high-school student like me has a more calming hobby. I enjoy riding my bike after school doing whatever I feel like that day. Some days my friends accompany me but days like today they sadly couldn’t. I’ve heard a lot about the two brothers. How fast they took over the city. I found it stupid. They’re only a year older than me, like how are they not in school doing their work. It’s irritating to know that they’re out here being bad ass kids and beating up innocent people. I sound like an old lady but I believe it’s better than them.

I did fear to see them to be honest though. I jokingly say things about them with my friends and classmates as one does. I mean, they’re only a year older than us so most of us are amazed at their reputation. How scary could they possibly be? Right. As I hold my scraped knees and sit behind a tree, I then realized how scary they can be.

Today during my bike ride alone, I noticed the quiet streets. It felt more peaceful than most days. So when I decided to take a different route, and it was even quieter I became wary. An uneasy feeling pits in my stomach but I do get distracted at the peaceful scenery. The sky a deep shade of blue as clouds float in the air. The train can be heard from afar and small convenience stores rest with little to no customers. Along with the stray cats pondering about. It’s hard to feel so scared when everything is so lovely.

I slow my bike down, which wouldn’t hurt anyone right. Wrong. As soon as my heartbeat settled down I hear a loud screech. My peaceful moment came to a halt and at that moment I didn’t know what to feel. As I saw a group of men, some big some small but definitely not smaller than me, beating up another group of guys. I knew there was no other path so before anything I scurry into the side of the park. Ditching my bike as getting secure behind a tree.

I didn’t want to think that they’d hurt me just because I walked by but I’m not taking any chances. As the fight progressed more guys started spacing from each other’s, and unconscious bodies layed around. Each getting closer to you as more men are thrown around. It seems like 30 minutes go by until finally a silence can be heard.

“Roppangi prevails as they beat you guys once more!" A man shouts loudly. He’s quite bulky and is filled with small bruises, presumably from the fight. I notice the crowd looking one way. It wasn't at the bulky man, but rather two boys, presumably my age, standing next to the bulky man. They looked similar. With dark smiles and glaring dead eyes. The gang speach went on for a few more minutes. Until many started to clear out after loud cheers.

I stay still not waiting until no one is around. I see them carrying each other by the shoulders and others trying to wake their knocked out gang members. A few more minutes pass. Everyone seems to be gone, but two. The two boys stay sitting conversating with the bulky man. I was definitely more scared of the man rather than the two boys. So I waited and waited until he was released. The night was coming in already, I definitely underestimated how long fights can be. So as the bulky man leaves I give it a minute and run to my bike.

With a beating heart and fear in my viens I look down and walk as fast as I can past the boys. Until a slim body slams a baton on it my bike.

"Well well, what do we have here?" a sultry voice spoke, I can almost here the way he smiled. Not a kind one, but a way you'd see in a horror movie.

“I’m on my way home.” I spoke quietly still looking down. The one with blue streaks grabbed my bike shaking it a bit, “hmm? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be our so late yeah?” His gloved hand slowly slid over my bike reach my wrist. He slowly tapped it rubbing the finger pads of his glove across the skin. Then he grabbed it pulling me forward.

“Why’d you got dirt on your hands doll?” He raised a brow and the man with braids peeped in, “And some scrapes on your knees hmm?” I tried pulling my wrist away but it he held tighter.

“I fell off my bike earlier, no big deal.” I tried to act calm despite how I felt on the inside. The braided man touched my waist to grab it but I was pulled away from him by the other one.

“I’ll deal with her, can’t leave this pretty thing all alone.” Ran stared at his brothers out of character acting. “Whatever you say.” He let’s go walking away and waving to us bye. The blue streaked man stared at me with his round glasses, “shall we go?”

“Go where?”

“Your house of course.”

So here you were. Walking. With this random boy you didn’t know. It was awkward as you both had a hand on the bike trialing along silently. He hummed quietly.

“You know,” he began to speak, “we knew you were there the whole time.”

“WHAT.” I widened my eyes at his words. He laughed at my expression, “We’re not idiots. We can see you head peeking out the tree. It was quite amusing. Cute almost.” He smiled to me and I laughed.

“You’re quite scary you know.” His eyes opened a little more at my boldness, “Is that so?” I nodded saying a quiet ‘yup.’ He silently laughed.

“Do you know who I am.” I picked up my head a bit and shook my head, “should I?” I look into his eyes and at that my moment realize just who he is. Messy hair, the two boys look alike, delinquents, a baton, and the malicious violet eyes that said it all.

It was a Haitani. Assuming the younger one as the other man looked older.

“Oh my god.” I tightened my grip on the bike trying to pull it away from him, but he didn’t relent. “Rindou Haitani sweetheart.” I stayed looking down once more, so he spoke again, “I was surprised to see you today. You usually take a different route right.” This made my head jerk towards him.

“Im not a stalker or anything but I happen to see you a lot by chance, when I’m doing business.” I knew exactly what he meant by “business.” He looked down swinging his hand, “Believe it or not…I have wanted to talk to you but I’ve been to scared.” I felt a bit embarrassed and laughed a little too. A gangster who’s to embarrassed to talk to a pretty girl.

“Oh, I see.” We stayed silent as I looked up to finally see my house. “Well, we’re here. Thanks for walking bye.” I pursed my lips and awkwardly waved goodbye. But he stopped me by grabbing my bike tightly once more. “W-wait. I know I may come off as creepy or scary but I really do want a chance. So please,” he went into the bowing position and let go of the bike, “give me a chance!” I smiled warmly at this. A delinquent bowing down to me? And especially with the tips of his ears a tint of red.

He looked up at me as I pat his head softly, “I guess I could give you a chance. There’s definitely a lot to work out but I don’t mind being friends for now, yeah?” He cleared his throat, “yeah, that’d be great.” We stood smiling at each other for a second then finally waging goodbye.

I threw myself into my bed and kicked my legs into the air. I guess I have a crush.

A crush on Rindou Haitani.

Bonus:

As Rindou walked he was greeted to an empty house. He finally put off his cool demeanor and played a loud song. He then looked around once more and pressed play. He jumped up and down silently yelling “yes” as he felt the victory inside him. He was so proud of himself and was truly a nerd at heart as you can see. But it was to embarrassing for his brother or you to know. He kept doing a small celebration dance until Ran walked in.

Unfortunately for him he didn’t hear Ran walk in as he was just so excited. Ran, who’d just woken up from a nap, stared at his brother in disgust and discomfort. In the heat of the moment he took out his phone and recorded when he started sadly enough, Rindou had already seen him.

Rindou awkwardly tumbled over his feet to stop the music. And stood in an odd position staring at his brother with embarrassment. They stare at each other for a good minute before ran spoke.

“You like her?” He asked

Rindou nodded

“Then never do that again.”

Rindou nodded again and stared at the ground in shame and embarrassment.

“I was just-“ ran cut him off, “nope, let’s end it here. No more.” Rindou nodded….again.

The two couldn’t look at each other for a week without remembering it.

#rindou x reader #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #tokyo revengers #tomato revengers one shot #tokyo revengers x reader #romance #rindou x y/n #rindou x you

[yourmidnightlover]

showing you

Summary: spencer gets a bit insecure with his body but doesn't let reader know until she starts doubting herself. when she figures it out, she makes sure to show spencer just how much she loves him.

TW: spencer's tummy insecurities, blowjob, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, allusions to sub/dom dynamic i guess?

WC: 3,958

masterlist

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you weren't stupid. you had noticed the change in spencer's behavior. you just didn't really know what was causing it, is all.

after spencer began teaching at georgetown, he started closing himself off a bit. you had visited him while lecturing beforeand you saw how beloved he was, especially by his female students. first you thought about all of those young girls, but then you remembered how that's not the kind of man spencer was.

so now you were back to being confused.

he was more distant than he's been in the past. when you would go to bed and try to cuddle with him, he would just pull away and roll over to the other side. being so understanding, you would let him be, thinking he'd open up when he's ready.

when you would make the two of you dinner on a rare day off from the bureau, he would either barely eat any of it or he'd just go back to the room altogether.

when you both went out with the team he would mostly just remain in the booth. you could usually get him to dance with you a few times before you decided to call it a night, but you couldn't even do that.

and in the bedroom, he would mostly focus on you, which isn't a bad thing at all. it's just... different. you hadn't actually had sex with each other in around three weeks, something you didn't want to push on him because obviously... no. but you couldn't help but wonder why he didn't want to.

you had started thinking, and that could be a scary place for you sometimes. you started thinking maybe he wasn't attracted to you anymore.

it made sense in your mind. the way he wouldn't dance with you anymore, wouldn't sit down for a meal with you, didn't want to have sex anymore, everything. it was the only logical thing you could think of as to why his behavior started to change.

you could either mope around because he's been acting different or now you could rekindle that flame. so you came up with a plan.

"spencer?" you approached him after you got out of the shower, a towel wrapped snug around your torso.

"yea, sweetie?" he asked, looking up from the spot in his book.

"i was thinking..." you trailed off, "we have a couple days off from the bureau and it's been a while since we've had a date night," your aided your eyebrows suggestively.

"you want to have a date night?" he asked in return, sitting up in the bed to get a better look at you.

"mmhmm," you nodded your head enthusiastically as you drew your bottom lip between your teeth.

"how does tonight sound?" he smiled at your reaction. you nodded your head once more. "ok great! i'll make reservations at- y'know what? it'll be a surprise. dress nicely, alright?" he said with a devious grin.

"sir, yes, sir," you smiled, making your way to his side of the bed.

you placed your hands on the sides of his face as he looked up and down your towel clad body, a smirk on his face. you connected your lips gently, surprised when he kissed back as fervently as he did. his hands quickly found your waist, making you chest to chest.

"7:30?" he asked once more, earning a muffled 'mmhmmm' against his lips.

"i'm gonna start getting ready, alright?" you said as you ran your hand through his hair.

"mmkay," he mumbled, his thumbs stroking your sides before you slowly ripped yourself away from him.

since it was already 2 in the afternoon, you had a bit of cushion time to get ready. you decided to wear your natural hair, a feature spencer really liked about you. you also did your makeup pretty natural. you applied a little bit of concealer, powder, bronzer, blush, and mascara.

for clothes, you opted for a white bodycon dress that went mid thigh and had a tiny slit for cleavage.

when you were finally ready, it was just past 7. you stepped out of the bathroom after doing some finishing touches on your hair and stepping into some white pumps.

you made your way into your shared bedroom, slowly running your hand along the doorframe as you admired the view in front of you.

spencer stood in the mirror, attempting to straighten his tie, with a navy blue suit on. his undershirt was a lighter shade of blue, his shoes black. when he turned to face you, you could see his face turning several shades of rouge.

"you look great, spence," you smiled as you began to walk towards him.

"i-you-i um... you look beautiful," he replied, biting his bottom lip gently as you placed your hand on his chest.

"thank you," you hummed as you wrapped your other arm around his body, really just to pull him closer to you. "i love you," you said so softly it was nearly inaudible.

you had said the usual 'love you's' nearly every night you had together as well as in public when on cases. but saying 'i love you' is extremely different than saying 'love you'.

saying 'i love you' is giving your own love to another person. it's letting them have full reign over your heart no matter how they plan on using it. saying 'love you' is only giving them a portion of your love. you still have that restraint and construction that doesn't allow you to be as vulnerable as when you say the 'i'.

"love you too, sweet girl. always," he replied, placing a kiss atop your head as he snaked his arms around your torso. "when did you get this dress? i don't remember seeing it before," he asked, resting his chin on your head.

"last weekend when you didn't want to go out, the girls and i went shopping. it was on sale; 25% off. i thought it was a pretty good deal," you smugly mumbled against his chest.

"that's my girl," he chuckled before you released him from your grip. "ready to go?"

"yup. i'm just gonna get my purse and we can head out," you motioned towards the living room.

you would normally be the one to drive since he has his anxieties about the road and all, but since he made the place a surprise it was on him to get the both of you there on time. he rested one hand on your thigh as his other was used to steer. you placed your hand on top of his, interlacing your fingers.

you didn't understand what was wrong. maybe he was faking the whole 'normal spencer' act? he's not acting like he doesn't love you right now. he seemed pretty attracted to you earlier when you came into the bedroom. you just didn't understand. you needed answers, but you could get those later.

when you finally arrived, you recognized the restaurant from one of rossi's spiels about which places serve 'the most authentic italian food he's had besides himself, of course'.

"rossi would be proud, spence," you chuckled as he opened the door for you.

"i actually had him pull a few strings with the owner of this place, apparently they're old family friends?" he said, placing a hand on the small of your back as the two of you walked to the host. "two for spencer reid please," the host looked at the clipboard on the podium before looking back up and giving the two of you a smirk.

"right this way, please," he smiled at spencer who looked at you with his lips pressed together in anticipation.

you followed the man up a set of stairs before he opened a large door for the two of you. you walked out, arm intertwined with spencer's, and found you were on the rooftop of the restaurant.

there was greenery all around you, fairy lights adorning every surface to give an amazing ambiance that set the most romantic mood imaginable. there was a small wooden table in the center of the floor, lit by one candle. there was a single red rose, obviously there to signify a meaning.

"i think those strings are pretty well tied, spence," you chuckled he began leading you to the table.

"i'm glad you like it," he removed his arm from yours so he could pull a chair out for you, pushing it back in once ready.

"it's so beautiful. the rose is a nice touch, too. was that your idea or rossi's?" you chuckled as you picked up the red flower to smell it.

"mine, actually," he smiled widely. "i've realized how long it's been since we've gone out together, and i wanted to do something special for you," he said as he sat beside you, taking your hand in his.

"i feel special right now," you smiled, placing a small kiss to his hand and never wanting to let go.

the rest of dinner went smoothly. you didn't ask him about his behavior, you felt like that was something that should be done in private.

now that you had gotten back home, you kicked off your heels, being sure to put them on your shoe rack to avoid later havoc, and sat down on the couch.

"wine?" spencer asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

"oh, i'm alright. i had some with dinner, thank you," you smiled as you waited for him to return.

once he got back, he placed two cups of iced water down on the coffee table and sat beside you. you curled into his side instinctively, feeling his muscles tense from the contact. you pulled back, searching his face for any discomfort.

"spencer...?" you whispered in his direction.

"yea, sweet girl?" he whispered back, you took a deep breath.

"are-are we okay?" you mumbled, not bothering to look at him.

"what do you mean? of course we're okay. we're okay, right?" he asked, backing up from you so he could get a better look.

"yes! but..." you trailed off, trying to find the courage. "it's just that lately you've been kind of off. you haven't been cuddling with me," you motioned to the couch. "you haven't danced with me like you used to. tonight's the first time we've been out in nearly a month. you won't even have sex with me. and..." you took a deep breath, "you haven't said 'i love you' in a really long time."

there was a pause. a long one. it was longer than a plank minute. you weren't looking at spencer at all, avoiding his eye contact in pure fear, just waiting for his answer.

"i'm sorry," he replied.

just an i'm sorry. now you knew, you were done. he didn't love you. it was all a show. he just wanted to make up for the past few weeks tonight, give you one last amazing memory before he broke the tie.

he would leave you. wondering what you did wrong. wondering why he had to go. wondering why you weren't good enough. you felt the tears in your eyes well up.

"don't cry, sweetie. i'm not-i'm not, we're okay,"he corrected, his hands cupping your face and wiping your teary cheeks clean. "i was just apologizing for me. i've been..." he sighed. "i've been gaining weight," now he was the one whispering.

"weight?" you sniffled, your hands ghosting over his on your face.

"yea," he replied, dropping his hands. "i've just been a bit insecure about it. that's why when we would cuddle i'd move away, i didn't want you to catch on to the weight," he shrugged.

"and the dancing...?"

"basically the same reason."

"and the going out?"

"i didn't want you to realize that some of my pants don't... they don't fit anymore," he winced as if the reveal hurt him.

"and the sex? you're still...?" you asked for reassurance.

"are you kidding? of course i'm attracted to you. do you see yourself?" he huffed in disbelief. "i just didn't want you to see me. my stomach, or arms," he sighed once more

"spencer, honey," you scooted closer to him on the couch, placing a hand on his shoulder and face. "i love you. you. you and your genius mind. the most romantic dates you plan for me. i love the way you lick your lip when you concentrate. the way you rub your hands together when you're presenting the profile. i love the rants you go on about anything and everything. i love you, spencer. and for the weight, that's perfectly alright. i love all of you," you placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

"i'm sorry i didn't talk to you about it sooner," he whispered against your mouth.

"it's alright spence. i understand," you sighed as he began kissing down your jawline. "i love you so, so much. you have no idea."

"i think i have a bit of an idea," he hummed against your neck.

"how about i show you?" you gave him a sly grin, your hands wandering to his belt buckle to undo it.

"oh-o-okay," he gave a small smile to you as you finally undid his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down together. you gently grasped his length, planting a kiss at the tip and trailing them down his shaft. "pl-please, y/n."

"shhh, i've got you, baby boy," you quieted him.

you licked a long stripe along the prominent vein, making sure to keep your eyes on him as you did so. his eyes fluttered shut, rolling to the back of his head as your tongue got higher on his length. once you got to the top, you gradually took him in. you hollowed your cheeks and pressed your tongue on the underside of his cock.

"fuck, y/n," he moaned, his hands reaching for your hair but hesitating whilst waiting permission.

"go ahead, you can touch me," you pressed his hand to the top of your head. "today's all about you, sweet boy."

when you went back to your ministrations, you made sure to use your hand on the rest of his dick that wouldn't fit in your mouth. you bobbed your head up and down, mostly guided by spencer's hold on you.

going by spencer's pace, it was rather quick and steady. you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes. you were tempted to blink them away but you couldn't not watch him in his euphoric state.

his head was tilted back, not enough to make it impossible to see his face. his eyes were lidded as his mouth was slightly agape, his breathing becoming more and more unsteady the longer you went on.

"oh my god, can i cum, mommy?" he asked in a high pitched voice, you hummed around his length as you continued to bob your head. "really? i can cum?" you quickly took your head off of his length for the shortest of seconds.

"go ahead, cum for me," and you dropped your head back on his length.

"oh thank you," he sighed in relief and gratitude. "thank you, ohh fuck yes, mommy," he groaned as he came down your throat with more 'thank you's and 'oh my god's.

"are you alright, sweet boy?" you asked as you rose to your knees.

"i'm more than alright, y/n," he said as he gripped your waist, pulling you onto his lap. "god, i love you so much," he began kissing your jawline once more.

"really? i had no idea," you joked as you tilted your head for better access.

"how about i show you?" he asked, his hands trailing down to your hips.

"you know how much i would love that, but i want to focus on you tonight. is that alright, bunny?" you asked, your hand gripping his chin softly to make him face you.

you had called him bunny once you found out how much he liked it when you rode him. he loved watching the way your breasts would bounce as you plopped down on him, not to mention how good and deep he could get inside you.

because of how much he liked it, doing that was always a treat for him. when he was especially good for you, did really good on a case, or when it was a special occasion you would allow it.

"yes, ma'am. it's alright," he nodded best he could with your hold on his chin. "b-but i want to taste you so bad," he pleaded, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

"really? you wanna taste me so bad, honey?" you asked, your hand trailing down to his jawline as he nodded eagerly. "mmm, since you're just so cute i guess i'll let you."

"really?" his eyes widened.

"yea, really," you smiled at his surprise. "let's go to the bedroom now," you said as you rose off his lap, knowing spencer wasn't far behind you on your walk to the room.

you sat down at the bed, your feet dangling over the edge. spencer made his way to his knees, sitting down in front of you and looking up at you with pleading eyes.

"go ahead, bunny. you have permission to touch me all night," you granted him, your hand going to his hair as he pushed your dress up to slip off your underwear, beginning to pepper kisses along your thighs slowly.

his tongue made one stripe along your folds, your head shooting back with a loud moan. large hands grasped your hips to keep you near his face, knowing you would be squirming away eventually, as he continued to lap up your arousal.

"you're such a good boy, spencer," you praised him, noticing the affect the compliment had on him as he became much eager. "just like that, right there, right there, YES!" you hollered as you tugged his hair to bring him closer to you.

spencer had always been one for praise. part of you wondered why, but the other part didn't even care because you loved praising him. you call him your good boy because that's what he is. he's your good boy.

part of him being your good boy was him always being able to send you over the edge so quickly, and only by using his mouth.

"ohhh fuck! yes, spencer," you gripped his hair by the roots, a groan leaving his mouth and sending you into oblivion.

you practically had to tear him off of you, he's such an overachiever. he had a wide smile on his face as you brought him up to kiss you before he had even wiped your juices off his face.

"lay back, bunny," you motioned to the headboard. "i'm gonna ride you tonight."

"really?" he asked yet again.

"yes, really," you nearly laughed out. "do you wanna take your shirt off or leave it on?" you asked as you crawled on top of him.

"i um, i can take it off," he nodded.

"want me to do it for you, sweetie?" you asked, your hands finding their way to his chest as he nodded his head slowly. "alright."

so you did just that. you undid every button on his shirt, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed to you until it was all the way off.

"mmm, you're such a pretty boy, spencer," you traced kisses back up to his neck, nipping his jawline gently as you placed him at your entrance. "my pretty boy."

"yo-your's. i'm a- i'm all your's," he huffed out as you slowly sank down on his length. "oh my god... feels so good," he groaned as he took your breasts in both of his hands.

"yea? you like the way my pussy feels around your pretty dick, bunny?" you enticed, enjoying the way his dick twitched inside of you. "ohh you like it when mommy talks to you too, huh? you like it when i talk about how good, how deep you get inside of me. how much i love those pretty little moans coming from you right now," you groaned out, feeling yourself get closer with every bounce and roll of your hips.

"mo-mommy, please," he shrieked out. "oh feels so good, wet, tight," he moaned, his hips bucking up to meet your pace.

you placed your hands on his chest as you began moving your hips at a much more rapid pace, not missing the way his thrusts followed suit. he always was an eager little bunny.

normally, you'd get on to him for being such a greedy brat but since he'd been such a good boy for you all night you'd oblige and let him have his fun.

"keep going, sweet boy," you encouraged him. "i'm so close, spence. come inside of me," you demanded.

much like you riding him, him being able to come inside of you was a treat. it was a reward for good behavior, because that's what he loves the most. because if you thought he liked you riding him, he was absolutely feral when it comes to being able to come undone inside of your body, feeling that close and intimate with you.

"i-i'm gonna come," he whimpered. "oh my god i'm gonna come."

"go ahead, bunny. i want your cum all inside me, baby. let it out," you egged him on.

what gave it away wasn't just the shoot of cum that now covered your walls, but the beautiful moans and pants that came from spencer while doing so. the way his head tilted back more, his mouth became slightly more agape as his upper chest a brighter shade of red. absolutely beautiful.

the intenseness from his high spurred that of your own in return. your legs began to shake as he kept thrusting inside of you, not only to help you through your orgasm but to also fuck his back inside of you.

"good boy, spencer. such a good boy," you breathed out once you had fully come down from your high.

you rested your head on his chest for a moment, trying to catch your breath before finally getting off him. you grabbed his hands and led him to the bathroom to start a bath for the two of you.

you let him lay back against your chest as you played with his hair. he nearly fell asleep because of how soothing the bath salts were, those were his favorites during your aftercare routine.

after you both dried your bodies off, you made sure to dry his hair for him, something he's become rather accustomed to. he just loved you playing with his hair, in all reality.

laying back in bed, his head back on your chest, you still played with his hair.

"spencer?" you asked, continuing on when you heard the quiet hum from him. "you know how much i love you?" he nodded against your body. "good. because i want you to know that no matter what you look like, super thin or a bit filled out, i will always love you. and you can always come to me about that too. if you're feeling insecure or upset?"

"i know. i was just... embarrassed about it," he mumbled against your skin.

"i know, bunny. but i'll show you that there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #smut #mgg smut #mgg fic #mgg x reader #comfort #comfort fic #comfort smut

[whimsicallyreading]

An angsty one-shot for your day. I stayed up way too late to write this.

CW- drinking

Aelin keeps the letters stacked neatly on her desk.

Each letter is stamped, addressed, and ready to mail. In tiny marks on the back, she writes the date every individual one was written. The envelopes are his favorite shade of green. A deep, pine color that she’d painstakingly scoured every stationary shop to find.

Delicately, Aelin seals the latest envelope and adds it to the growing pile.

My Love,

It’s almost winter here in Orynth. I know it’s your favorite season and you are probably sad to miss out, so I took a Polaroid of the clouds coming in over the staghorns for you.

Do you remember how we’d sit in front of Mistward every year and watch the first snow storm come in over the peeks? We would drink hot chocolate and talk for hours. About our families, our futures, anything and everything. It’s still one of my favorite traditions.

In fact, it’s where I am right now. Writing this letter to you. Just because you are overseas doesn’t mean you get to bail out. I bought two hot chocolates, but I suppose I’ll have to drink yours for you. What a shame.

Writing to Rowan was her weekly tradition since he got deployed. No matter how busy life got, every Friday she wrote him two full pages front to back. Whether she got to sit at her desk or had to scribble against the rusty bench at the bus stop, every inch was covered in her hand writing.

That was her personal rule. They had to be handwritten. Aelin felt it meant more that every piece of the letter was entirely from her. So she keeps a collection of colored pens handy for whenever the urge to speak to her husband grows to be too much.

At the bottom of the last page, next to her signature, Aelin always kisses the paper with red lipstick. Maybe it’s cheesy, but it’s the same shade she wore at their wedding.

You could see the ghosts of the color along his jawline in their favorite photos together. His beaming smile, the smudges of red on his face and the collar of his white dress shirt. A remnant from the happiest day of her life she thought would bring him comfort.

My love,

Winter is here! It’s so cold outside. You would say it’s this frigid every year, but it just feels different this time. Maybe it’s because you aren’t hear to snuggle up with and your side of the bed is empty? You were always so warm.

I keep your slippers by the couch. They are ridiculously huge on my feet, but I swear they still feel like you just walked in them. Your warmth is still there.

You would laugh if you saw me hobbling around the apartment in them. My toes slide all over the place. Truthfully, your feet are atrociously large, dear- Still they remind me of you, so I love them.

Aelin gets home late from work that night.

Humiliated tears sting her cheeks, even as she rubs them away. The feeling of that creep, Cairn’s, hands lingering on her ass.

She was used to fending off handsy patrons. What bothered Aelin is that when she complained to her boss, Erawan, he publicly berated her for instigating the customers.

None of the other waitresses would meet her eye when she looked for back up. Grave, the bartender, sniggered through the entire dressing down. Aelin could still feel their eyes on her skin as Erawan accused her of being provocative.

Rowan would have demanded she quit the job. He would have marched down to the bar and broken Cairn’s face. Possibly even held him back so Aelin could do it herself.

Aelin needs the money, though. Rowan’s accounts were frozen due to some stupid technicality at the bank. Without her paycheck, she would lose the apartment.

Sniffling, Aelin slides her feet into Rowan’s slippers and plops at her desk. It isn’t Friday yet, but she’s desperate to speak to him.

As her hand flows across the paper, Aelin knows she won’t describe the days events to him. He’s under enough stress without her work drama adding to his worries.

My love,

Yulemas is next week. Aedion is in Caraverre with Lysandra and our new nephew. Lorcan and Elide are going up from Perranth to stay with them, but the roads are so frozen in Orynth I may just stay here this year.

Besides, work is busy right now. They need someone to man the place for the people with nowhere to go for the holidays.

Maybe I’ll host a little celebration at the bar. Like we did that one year when we got stuck in the Hostel in Rifthold. We made the best of a bad situation, and it was the first time you told me you loved me. I think I’d like to relive a little of that this year.

I miss you. Please come home.

Aelin lays in her bed the night before Yulemas and sobs.

Ugly, guttural noises spill from her chest and she soaks their pillows with tears. The newest envelope is clutched against her chest, and the building stacks mock her from their spot across the room.

Her heart is so raw. Aelin knew it was a bad idea to count the letters, but there was so many. Curiosity got the better of her, and now she was bleeding for her mistake.

Fifty-six.

A full year of letters she hadn’t been able to send.

Rowan had only ever written her twenty before he was declared missing in action.

A year ago, she’d been hanging bobbles and decorating a tree knowing her husband only had a few weeks left of his tour.

Aelin had painted a welcome home banner, and her whole family made plans to come and spend the holiday with the soon-to-be-reunited couple.

She had his slippers waiting by the door. Rowan’s favorite blanket was laundered and folded on his side of the bed in case he wanted to lay down. Aelin had it on good authority that the bed would be one of the first places they visited when he arrived. Emerys had even given her a mixture of their favorite hot chocolate to make.

Everything was perfectly in place for his return.

That’s what when the soldiers arrived at her door and her world fell apart.

Lorcan came home a week later. He hugged Elide and she cried into his shoulder. Happy tears. So unlike the ones Aelin had been shedding. Her friend beamed ear-to-ear, as the love of her life gathered her into his arms and squeezed.

It was a touching sight, but Aelin could feel the hot knife being twisted in her chest. Elide’s happiness caused her physical pain, and it made her feel so selfish. She didn’t begrudge Lorcan his life, or Elide her joy- Aelin just missed her own husband.

Elide and Lorcan spent Yulemas together. Kissing and holding hands. Lysandra finally announced her pregnancy. Aedion’s expression when he opened the box with the baby onesie inside was priceless. Her cousin whooped and hollered, almost dancing with the prospect of becoming a father.

Aelin smiled. She gave her congratulations and celebrated with her family. They hugged, and laughed. Aedion took care to include her in everything, and she played her part even as she tried to ignore the concerned looks her family exchanged behind her back.

Aelin made it to lunch before she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fenrys was the one to find her having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t even known it was a panic attack. Aelin just assumed the pain of losing her soulmate was finally killing her. The tightening of her chest and the body aches felt enough like a heart attack to be convincing.

He gathered Aelin in his arms and counted breaths with her. His twin brother Connal was lost in the same fight where Rowan had gone down. Fen had seen the whole thing from the cockpit of his plain, and nothing he did could’ve saved them.

He shared his pain, and for the first time Aelin felt like someone understood her.

Fenrys let her lean on him as they excused themselves from the celebrations. They drove to some bar in Caraverre and spent the rest of the day wallowing over whiskey.

Aedion came to collect their drunken asses later that evening. Worry etched into every line of his kind face. It only made her feel ashamed that she’d rained all over their happy day.

He was going to be a father, and she’d forced him to spend his time fretting over her instead of reveling in that news.

Now here she was a year later. Aelin wasn’t going to subject herself to that again. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t force her grief upon anyone else this year, either. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that everyone else had to suffer with her.

So, as Yulemas Eve came, and before she could finally distract herself with work, Aelin pulled Rowan’s blanket over herself. She’d spritzed it with his cologne, donned his shirt, and pulled his socks over her feet. Aelin did everything she could to feel surrounded by him.

Then, alone in their bed, she watched as the clock ticked down to midnight.

Rowan,

Wherever you are, I hope my words reach you and that you know you aren’t alone. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could trade places with you- would give anything, just to know where you are.

It breaks my heart, to be without you. Every breath seems pointless. I lied in my last letter. The roads aren’t frozen. I’m not needed at work. No one really needs me to be around them. I just couldn’t spend another holiday surrounded by happy people when the other half of my heart is gone from me.

When you come home, I will feel like celebrating again. I’ll wrap my arms around you, and we can make up for lost time. Just please, don’t make me wait too much longer.

Merry Yulemas, my love. We will be together again one day.

Until then, I’ll keep on writing, only so long as you don’t yield.

Sincerely, your loving wife

Aelin

#throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin #rowan #angst fic #write me #one shot #tog fanfiction #tog

[whereisten]

Stupid Cupid

A Taeyong fic that’s a part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Cupid, also known as Taeyong, has never experienced real love. But when he meets you, he may finally have a chance.

Pairing: Cupid! Taeyong x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut, fantasy

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: oral (male receiving), penetration, breast fondling, cursing, alcohol use

(A/N: thank you guys so much for being so sweet and understanding and patient. I’ve always believed Halloween should be a celebration for multiple months out of the year and since the Halloween series is ongoing, it works 💀. Anyways, I’m so excited to share this with y’all. ❤️ One of my favorite songs is “Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran. And the music video features Cupid so I was inspired. 👍🏼 I hope you guys enjoy it! I also was inspired by “The Consequences of Cursing Cupid” by @by-moonflower). I loved it!)

...

Cupid was one of God’s most prized pupils. He was also one of His most beautiful creations. His hair had the shades of pink you’d see at sunset and warm brown eyes that could claim the heart of almost anyone. His tan skin glowed, bringing a piece of heaven’s glow down to earth with him. His body was slender, elegant, and muscular. His true appearance was known to few mortals but overtime, historians were able to conclude that Cupid was as beautiful as any of the archangels.

God entrusted his son to bring love and hope to the world one couple at a time. With his bow and arrow, he was able to give people love every day. As the years have passed, though, the population of the world expanded and Cupid only had so much time in the day to bring couples together. God and Cupid carefully handpicked Cupid fledglings throughout the years. Cupid wasn’t alone in his work anymore and he could afford some downtime every few centuries. It was 2020 and it was time for Cupid, or, as he was known by his earthly name, Lee Taeyong, to take a vacation.

Taeyong arrived in the sunny coastal town of Isla one Sunday morning. He would stay here for a few months. Taeyong would’ve kept working if he hadn't been forced by his coworkers to take a leave of absence. He’d always been a huge workaholic and quite the perfectionist. He was the type of guy who liked to get things done by himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his team. He just had a fixation with doing things his own way, which caused many clashes over the years.

This time, God had to intervene and force Taeyong to step down so that newly realized Cupids like Haechan and Yangyang could step up in his absence. Taeyong moved into a beach house right by the beach. A whole mansion to himself, he grimaced. What the hell was he supposed to do in such an expansive and luxurious place all by himself? Well, he had some ideas.

As much of a workaholic Taeyong was....when he let loose, he really let loose. It was like there was an on/off switch in his brain when it came to his rebellion and since he was out of work for the foreseeable future, it was time to turn the switch on. All work and no play for so many years made him act out in rebellion, which was why God sent Cupids Sicheng and Kun to watch out for Taeyong this time around.

Taeyong heard a knock on the door of his beach house. He frowned in confusion.  

“Knock knock,” Kun said as he brought in suitcases and carried a backpack over his shoulder. Sicheng followed him in with his own bags as well.

Taeyong frowned. “What are you guys doing here?”

Sicheng beamed. “We’re here to make sure you don’t start up another orgy and anger many significant others…”

Kun nodded. “You’ll barely know we’re here.”

Taeyong brought out his angelic smile. “Is that so?”

…

Even with Kun and Sicheng on his tail, Taeyong was able to throw a massive party at the beach house the next night. A pretty face like Taeyong’s and a few likes on Instagram could attract many followers. And with followers, there was a great party. Celebrities even caught wind of the festivities. Taeyong was able to hire caterers and event planners to make the beach house a Hawaiian paradise. Tiki torches were lit all around the house. People lounged in the lagoon-shaped pool. There were party games in every room in the mansion.

Your friends convinced you to come with them to the hot new bachelor’s party. You could use a night out after working another six day work week at the local Isla Humane Animal Shelter. You wanted to let loose and dance with your friends. If only for a little while. Hopefully, you didn’t think about him now that you were able to relax.

Taeyong was having the time of his immortal life, dancing with one girl...one boy...after another. He was already hooking up with people on the dance floor in the backyard that overlooked the beach. He would grind behind one girl while another boy grinded against him from behind. Taeyong was in nothing but red swim trunks. His abs glistened with sweat and-

Your friend Jisoo said, “y/n, ask him to dance.”

You’d spent the last few minutes staring at the dancefloor. You couldn’t help but watch the pretty boy who stood at the center. You quickly gulped down your drink and shook your head. “Pass.”

Jisoo sucked her teeth. “Y/n, you’ve been staring at him for five minutes now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I like to observe my surroundings...It’s nothing.”

“You should ask the pretty boy to dance. It won’t hurt.”

“Nope. I’m fine right here, drinking my free pina colada...Not a care in the world.”

Jisoo replied, “Y/n, it’s been five months...��

You met Jisoo’s eyes. “Yeah, and I’m doing a lot better. You know this. My family knows it. All of the people who should be sorry to follow me on any social media know this.”

Jaehyun joined you two. “She's talking about how she’s over...him?”

Jisoo nodded. “And she clearly wants to dance with The Bachelor over there.”

Jaehyun watched him, also. “Well, for starters, he’s way cuter than that bastard but she should stay away from him. He’s trouble.”

Jisoo scoffed. “Who are you? Her father?”

Relieved that Jaehyun was on your side, you said, “Thank you, Jay! Now don’t worry about me, Jisoo...I’m great! I’m out of the house. I’m cutting a rug.”

Jisoo eyed you. “Okay…”

Now you had to admit that you thought about throwing caution to the wind and dancing close to the man, making ‘come hither’ eyes at him, kissing him in a closet, and calling it a night. The idea made you wet just thinking about it. But you knew yourself. You were the type to fall hard. And you fell hard once and it left you broken to this day.

Anyway, Pretty Boy seemed kind of busy so you turned the other way to join a game of poker in the living room.

Every human that spent an intimate moment with dear old Cupid was guaranteed the best orgasm of their lives. In Taeyong’s hands, his lover would feel treasured and adored and spoiled. Taeyong, a bringer of love, could bring paradise to anyone.

Now in his human form, Taeyong still had some of those divine powers. However, in a human body, he had limitations.

Like his alcohol tolerance, which, unfortunately for him, had never been good.

Before he could take anyone to paradise like he’d longed to do since he came to the Earthly plane, he was outside in his front lawn, vomiting all of the alcohol he downed in the past two hours.

Taeyong felt woozy. He wasn’t all there the moment when you first approached him. He looked awful. Pale and sweaty from puking so much.

Your concern outweighed your fear of talking to him so you approached him. You handed him a bottle of room temperature water and a wet towel from his kitchen so he could clean himself up.

Taeyong uncapped the water bottle and drank. He managed to say, “Thank you.”

You sighed, relieved to see that he was responsive. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am...Thanks…What’s your-”

“Y/n! Time to go,” Jaehyun started. Jaehyun promised to take you home. You were supposed to go into the shelter tomorrow to finalize an adoption.

You shouted back, “Coming!” You turned to your friend. Taeyong couldn’t see your face now. You did smell heavenly, though. Like fresh berries and daisies.

You turned back to Taeyong and smiled. Even if he was a wreck, he was still the most gorgeous male you’d ever seen. “Great party. Take care of yourself.”

Taeyong was still trying to sober up but he was able to meet your eyes, the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen on this planet. In any realm, actually. “You, too…”

You left him there, curious about you. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ponder further as he threw up again. Maybe these parties were getting old. He always found himself like this whenever he visited good ol’ planet Earth...

…

[One Month Later]

Taeyong continued to indulge in his debauchery, throwing parties every night. Part of him hoped you would return so he could properly thank you for your kindness.

Your eyes were sultry and your scent was intoxicating. He wished he could remember you.

Every night that he spent time with a different partner, he thought of you.

Without any hidden agenda to get in bed with him, you absolutely fascinated him. His clouded judgment that night only made him remember your eyes. That was all he had to go on. He couldn’t explain the need to see you again.

The need grew stronger and stronger.

He certainly couldn’t ask his coworkers or the big man upstairs for help. Surely, they’d misinterpret his actions. He simply wanted to see you again.

In the process, Taeyong slowly began to reevaluate his time on Earth. Like Gatsby before him, he threw even more parties in hopes of you showing up. But he had no idea about your hectic work schedule. The parties continued and Taeyong quickly grew bored. Maybe he needed to get out and explore the city if he ever hoped to see you again.

In the daytime, Taeyong found himself waking up earlier and sending his partners on their merry way. He took up a couple of hobbies at home, as well. Baking and playing games on his Nintendo Switch. For his outings, he’d go to the mall, the grocery store, the amusement park, and more. Everywhere he could think of. But you weren’t there. He had the ability to feel your presence but you were never within his radar and it frustrated him.

Taeyong finished swimming a couple of laps in the pool and went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Kun was making dinner and Sicheng was setting the table.

“Penny for your thoughts, boss?” Sicheng inquired.

Taeyong sighed. “I’m just wondering when you two will finally leave me be.”

Kun turned off the stove and let the stir fry cool. “When your sexual appetite ceases.”

Taeyong frowned. “Have you no shame to comment on my activities?”

Sicheng and Kun looked at each other and looked back at Taeyong. “No.”

Taeyong sighed. “If you must know, the parties will cease tonight. I have given up.”

“Given up on what?” Sicheng asked.

They couldn’t know about Taeyong’s true motive with his parties. “Parties, of course.”

“Really?” Kun asked as he washed his hands.

Taeyong sighed. “Yes. Now let’s eat.”

A few hours later, Taeyong went to the beach to get some sun. A few girls asked for his number and he simply pretended not to know English. He spoke Japanese and spoke broken English to throw them off. He was in no mood to frolick. He was frustrated.

It was because of you. He couldn’t explain it but he desperately wanted to see you. Wanted to know you. Wanted to feel you come alive under him as he pleased you. And he had no leads.

Maybe he should just throw in the towel. It was dangerous for him to entertain the idea of seeing someone as more than just a fling. Knowing his one night stand’s name was more information than he needed.

Perhaps you weren’t real. Oh, heavens. He knew you were real but maybe he should convince himself of the contrary so he could give up on you.

Meanwhile, you’d been busy non-stop. You couldn’t go out and unwind because of your extremely-packed schedule, which was just how you liked it. Whatever free time you had was spent at home curled up in bed before bedtime. It was how you preferred it, though. It helped you get over your ex much more quickly. Or so you thought, anyway.

One of your co-workers at the shelter was an adoption counselor who had a family event she needed to attend. So she asked you for a favor. You came in for the afternoon shift to help pair up families with pets.

You loved working at the shelter, helping animals find their forever homes. It broke your heart to see so many of them, neglected and homeless. You always knew you wanted to work with animals, though. In high school, you started at the shelter as a volunteer. Now, you were one of the managers. You helped with fundraisers and outreach events to get the shelter animals’ faces out there.

You went to check on the dogs, cats, rabbits, ferrets, and other residents of the shelter, like you always did. Then, you finished adopting out an Australian Shepherd. His new family already adored him. The shelter’s adoption process was strict so if a family really wanted to commit to a pet, they had to commit to the process to prove it. So you had high hopes that this adoption would be permanent.

On the off chance it wouldn’t, these animals always had a home here. You wouldn’t cease until you did everything you could to get a home for each animal that walked through the shelter’s front doors.

You took a picture of the happy family to post on the shelter’s social media. You sent them off. You felt like you were being watched so you turned to the front window where you recognized Jaehyun and the pink-haired man from the Hawaiian paradise party. They were talking like they knew each other.

You frowned and walked outside to greet them. “Jaehyun?”

The men faced you. Jaehyun beamed, “Y/n! I was passing through and I ran into Taeyong here who is looking to volunteer at the shelter.” Taeyong was about to cut in when Jaehyun continued. “Is there a volunteer orientation today?”

You shook your head. “It’s tomorrow, Jay.”

Taeyong just looked at you, not saying a word.

You tilted your head in confusion. “But...If you’re free, Taeyong, we’d love to have you.”

Jaehyun answered for him. “Of course he is. There’s no other place he’d rather be!”

Taeyong shot Jaehyun a look but his face softened as he looked at you. “Yeah...He’s right about that.”

Still confused, you smiled. “Okay, tomorrow it is.”

Taeyong headed home after his confrontation with the meddlesome Jaehyun. Just who was he to you, he wondered. How dare he cross a god?

Sure, Jaehyun was a beautiful specimen but he was not at his level, Taeyong thought to himself.

[A Few Hours Ago]

After his time at the beach, Taeyong took another stroll through the town, exploring small businesses and stumbling upon an animal shelter.

Through the front window, he saw a family with their Australian Shepherd. And that’s when his radar switched on. His heart squeezed and his breathing faltered. You were here. You greeted the family inside. They posed for a family photo together with their dog. They held a sign that read “Furrever Home” on it. The family thanked you and you sent them off.

You were exquisite. Your smile. The glimmer of hope in your eyes. Your laugh. You were out of breath from running around so much and from the excitement, he could tell. Even though you were stressed and tired, you were happy at that moment. You turned toward his direction and he read your name on your name tag: y/n.

Taeyong wanted to rush in and call for your name but his feet were planted to the ground.

“Hey, I remember you,” someone called out to him.

Taeyong snapped out of his daze and turned to find a handsome young man with black hair frowning at him. Taeyong started. “I’m sorry. I don’t-“

“You’re Taeyong. You throw parties at that beach house and you’re the city’s most eligible bachelor. It’s all over social media.”

“Yes, and?”

The stranger glared as he nodded at you through the window. “You’ve been watching her, haven't you?”

Taeyong smirked. “And what about it?”

The man looked down at Taeyong’s pants where his member betrayed him. Jaehyun lifted his eyebrows.

Taeyong shrugged. “It’s rude to stare at a stranger’s crotch.”

He laughed. “You’re pretty easy to read, Taeyong. But I gotta warn you: don’t waste her time if you’re not fully committed.”

Taeyong laughed. “And who are you to tell me this?”

“Someone who refuses to see his friend’s heart broken again.”

Again, Taeyong wondered. “Well, I have no plans to let it get that far.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Jaehyun?” You started.

Then, the conniving Jaehyun set Taeyong up to be a volunteer at the animal shelter without his consent. Well, Taeyong could’ve said no at any time but he didn’t want to disappoint you. Besides, this would be an opportunity to get to know you. Jaehyun may not be so bad, after all, Taeyong mused.

Jaehyun left Taeyong with these parting words. He grinned, showing his dimples. “If you hurt her, I will run you out of this town.”

Taeyong smiled. “I’d like to see you try.”

To anyone else, it would’ve seemed like two friends were parting ways but in reality, it was more like a declaration of war.

Your friend Jaehyun was very protective of you, Taeyong realized. He wondered if Jaehyun was enamored with you. And your nickname of “Jay” for him made Taeyong’s stomach turn.

Who was he to you? And why was he butting in on Taeyong’s pursuit of you? And what did Jaehyun mean by you getting your heart broken again? Who broke your heart? And why was he still breathing, unless Jaehyun failed to mention your ex’s funeral?

Taeyong wasn’t going to break your heart. He wasn’t that stupid. He spent enough time on this planet to set boundaries and never fall in too deep with a human.

It didn’t matter if you made him feel different than any other human has after twenty seconds of an interaction.

…

[The Next Day]

Taeyong wasn’t sure how he would feel about working with animals because he’s never interacted with them before. He envied any family who had a pet, though.

It was a kind of love he didn’t get to see frequently. His job was primarily focused on romantic love so it always fascinated him to see familial love, love between friends, and now love between man and man’s best friend.

You led the volunteer orientation. It was a relatively full house. You gave the new recruits the rundown on maintenance, walking the dogs, socializing with the animals, feeding, laundry, and safety. Taeyong was so impressed by how skilled and informative you were at work. You were a no-nonsense girl when you needed to be.

When the orientation ended, Taeyong lingered behind in the staff meeting room. You had to admit that seeing Taeyong again made your heart do weird things. You’d dreamed of him for a few nights and part of you wished you could’ve gone to another one of his parties. Your friends told you he’d thrown so many this past month that they lost count. So you were shocked to see this wealthy party boy at an animal shelter of all places. You did notice as you gave your talk that his eyes never strayed from yours.

After the orientation, you began, “Hey, Taeyong. How did you like the orientation?”

He smiled. “You were brilliant.”

Your face heated up. “Thanks.”

He asked, “I was wondering if you were free tonight to-“

A volunteer popped in. “Y/n, code leash with Ruby!” Code leash meant a dog was loose in the shelter without a leash on.

You started. “Oh, God. Sorry, Taeyong, I have to help catch one of our dogs.”

You looked distressed so Taeyong decided to help. He didn’t know where this altruism came from but it was there. “I can help.”

“Thank you. I have to warn you, though. She’s not friendly with most people. So be careful.”

You and Taeyong teamed up to catch Ruby while some of the other volunteers also teamed up elsewhere. Ruby had hidden under one of the benches near the cat corner of the shelter.

Ruby was a Papillon, also known as a Continental Toy Spaniel. She was a reserved dog. She was adopted as a puppy but when she was a year old, her owners gave her up for adoption when they were expecting a baby. With the betrayal she’d experienced, she closed herself off from most people and most animals. It took a few weeks for her to warm up to you.

Ruby had cute ears that resembled a butterfly’s, which explained the name of her breed, the Papillon.

With her leash in your hands, you crouched down to greet her. “Hi, Ruby…”

She surprised you by running over to Taeyong, who froze in his tracks. Ruby jumped against his legs and cried. She wanted his attention.

You looked at them in shock. Ruby had never taken so quickly to someone before. You were impressed.

Taeyong’s eyes doubled in size as he slowly backed up. Ruby continued to jump against his legs, regardless. “What’s happening? Is she trying to kill me?”

You fought back a laugh. “No...She wants you to hold her.”

He looked mystified. “Uh...I’ve never…”

“You’ve never…?”

For the first time, he looked shy. “I’ve never held a dog before…”

You approached them and called Ruby again. “Ruby, I’ll help you.”

You picked Ruby up and guided Taeyong. “Just raise your arms and cradle her. It’s okay.”

You handed Ruby to Taeyong and he was shocked at this new feeling he felt in his chest. It was this overwhelming joy and worry and affection he’d never felt. He would die for this dog.

Well, if he could die, he would.

So this is what familial love must be like.

Ruby licked him all over his face and he giggled like a little boy.

You were overjoyed to see Ruby with another person. This was promising. “She really likes you. It took me weeks to get her to warm up to me.”

Taeyong stared at you. “Really? I can’t imagine that…”

“You saved the day, Taeyong. Not bad for your first day as a volunteer.” You laughed.

You led him and Ruby back into her room. You stepped into her small room where she resided alone. She had a big fluffy bed and toys to play with. Even so, it could definitely get cramped in there after a few hours. You would take her for a walk later.

Taeyong asked, concerned. “She lives by herself? She must be so lonely.”

You told Taeyong her story and he understood her circumstances. He was furious at Ruby’s previous owners and he finally understood why places like this shelter existed.

You said, “She needs someone who will remain faithful to her all of their life. I hope she finds them soon.”

Taeyong rubbed Ruby’s belly. “So do I.”

“I have to get back to work. You’re not on the schedule until tomorrow but you are more than welcome to spend some time with the dogs…”

Taeyong was in his own bubble with Ruby.

You giggled. “Or maybe just Ruby.”

You left them be and got back to work.

Taeyong spent the next hour playing with Ruby, taking her for a walk, taking pictures of her, and cradling her to sleep. He hoped to catch up with you later but he couldn’t let go of his attachment to this dog now.

There was something about this town that made him attached to others. First, it was you. Then, it was Ruby.

It was unusual.

Ruby fell asleep and Taeyong checked his phone. He received a text over half an hour ago.

Where are you? Kun says you’re not home :( -Yooa

Crap, he’d forgotten all about Yooa. His “date”.

Taeyong realized he’d be getting earful from Kun later. He texted Yooa he was on his way.

…

[2 Weeks Later]

The first few days were rough for Taeyong because he’d never done manual labor in his life. He was willing to try and with your and other volunteers’ guidance, he was able to pick up on everything quickly. Everyone thought Taeyong was as strange as he was beautiful. They thought he was a sheltered rich boy who was learning how to care for someone else for the first time. Well, they weren’t far off from the truth.

Taeyong volunteered almost everyday at the shelter. He did everything he could possibly do as a volunteer and still had the energy to take the dogs on more walks than required. He was a god, after all. His energy on Earth was higher than that of any normal human’s. He hoped to impress you, too. He tried to ask you out or even for your phone number but you were always busy with shelter tasks. It was very hard to tell if there was a connection between you two.

At the end of each shift, Taeyong always left Ruby for last because she was his favorite shelter animal. “Alright Ruby, today is the day I finally ask y/n out.”

Ruby snoozed in response. Taeyong sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

You were the last person to leave the shelter and lock up. Everyone had already left an hour ago but you were finishing up some emails. You found Taeyong waiting outside the door. “Taeyong!”

He waved and smiled, not looking disheveled at all after a full-day shift.

You, on the other hand, could use a shower. “Everything okay?”

Taeyong asked, “Are you free?”

“Uh...”

“I was wondering if you…”

Your eyes as you watched him left Taeyong in nearly almost a trance. The way your hair fell over your eyes when you adjusted your work bag. The breeze caused your perfume to creep into his nose and he had to catch his breath. Even your little yawn after a long day was cute. Damn it.

You started, “Taeyong?”

Taeyong tried to say something but his throat went dry. Why wasn’t he able to say words? He was prepared to say. Come away with me tonight. I’ll take us to dinner and then...Well, it’s your call, y/n.

And here he was, his palms sweaty. His cheeks were red. He was so close to trembling from the new anxiety that crept up on him.

You asked, “Are you okay?”

Taeyong shook his head to shove his fears away. “Are you free?”

He invited you over to his house for dinner as a thank you for showing him the ropes around the shelter. You felt bad for assuming that he was asking you out. It appeared that he wanted to keep this platonic and you were relieved.

You’re a chicken, Taeyong thought to himself. The ball was in his court and he missed his shot to take things further with you. Even so, you’d said yes so all in all, you two were headed somewhere.

You followed Taeyong in your car over to his place. You entered the extravagant beach house, which was surprisingly neat and homey. The furniture looked comfortable, like you could easily fall asleep on it. The lighting was at a low, almost romantic setting. The house was tranquil and all you could hear was the crash of waves in the distance.

Taeyong said, “Please take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you some wine?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

Taeyong smiled warmly at you before he departed for the kitchen.

Another young man appeared as he came down the stairs, calling out. “Sicheng and I will be back in a few days. Our Lord needs us in Beijing for an emergency match-up.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and merely stared at you. “Seriously, another ‘appointment’?”

Taeyong darted out of the kitchen. “Kun.”

You got up and waved. “Uh, hi. I’m Taeyong’s friend, y/n. From the animal shelter?”

Sicheng joined the group. “Friend?”

Kun’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re just friends with him?”

You looked at everyone around the living room. “Yes…”

Although you had to wonder what Kun meant by “appointment”. If you had to guess, you weren’t the first girl Taeyong brought home. This week.

You knew Taeyong was a player from the first night you met him. But you were attracted to him so the possibility of a one night stand with him didn’t repel you. You weren’t about to ask for it, though. You were already going out of your comfort zone, coming over to his house for dinner.

And then...Taeyong’s personality surprised you these past few weeks. He was warm and hard-working and kind. You had to admit you had a little crush on him. You wouldn’t let that truth see the light of day, though. A player was a player, no matter what.

Sicheng smiled as he greeted you, “Y/n, welcome to our home. I’m Sicheng. Our rude friend right here is Kun. We are Taeyong’s coworkers and roommates.”

“It’s nice to meet you. What is it that you guys do? You mentioned a match-up?”

Taeyong eyed his friends. “They...”

Kun continued, “We...are dating gurus!”

You replied, “I see. So you’re headed to Beijing? That’s exciting!”

The boys told you they worked for a dating website for high-profile people and traveled to countries like China and South Korea to counsel them on dating. It was unheard of and unusual. At least for you, anyway. But it was kind of fascinating. Kun and Sicheng told you that Taeyong had been working nonstop for years now as a dating guru so now he was taking some time off. They excused themselves and headed off to the airport.

You accompanied Taeyong to the kitchen as he cooked some New York strips for the two of you. He refused your help and wanted you to sit down and relax. “I didn’t know you were a dating guru.”

He chuckled nervously. “I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“Oh, well, we don’t have to…We could always talk about something else. Like where you’re from?”

Taeyong chopped some vegetables as he mulled over his answer, avoiding your eyes. How was he going to say he came from Heaven? First of all, it would be ludicrous to you. And second, it sounded like a pickup line that would only stroke his ego. There was no way to win by telling the truth. “Abroad.”

You sipped your glass of wine. He was so vague. “Abroad? Where?”

“My Lor-...father traveled all the time when I was growing up so we always moved. And once I got to work with the dating website, the traveling continued.” Nice save, he thought to himself.

“Oh? Wow, that’s sad, isn’t it?”

Taeyong looked at you. “Sad?”

“I mean, maybe it wasn’t...What I meant was that it must have been difficult getting uprooted all the time. Having to get accustomed to a new place...Only to have to start over somewhere else.”

You had no idea, Taeyong thought. You read him like a book so he had to ask. “How did you know?”

You understood his situation very well. “My dad is a lieutenant general. We’ve moved around a lot until I was eighteen. Come to think of it...Are your parents in the military?”

Taeyong knew he had to come up with something. Quick, he told himself, think of something believable. The first thought that came into his mind was Jurassic Park after he watched it last night. “No...He’s a...paleontologist.”

That was an uncommon job but you were impressed. After all, Jurassic Park was one of your favorite movies. You asked him about the places his dad took him, what dinosaur bones his dad uncovered, and more. Taeyong had to get creative and being dumb about the subject didn’t hinder his case. He claimed that remembering the names of species was impossible for him. You were riveted, regardless. You spent most of the time talking about Jurassic Park, anyway. You told him about Universal Studios’ Islands of Adventure and a Jurassic Park feature located at the park. You suggested you two could go together sometime and Taeyong’s eyes lit up, then. His doe eyes caught you off-guard.

You continued talking about your interests and your pasts. Well, you did. Taeyong had to get a little creative when topics such as his “childhood” and “family” came into conversation. But other than that, he enjoyed having you in his home. You were full of warmth and generosity. You laughed at his jokes and asked him about how he was doing. It left him speechless. He wasn’t sure what you were really thinking or if you were even interested. You were equally unsure and found yourself considering what you’d been fighting since the moment you first laid eyes on him.

Taeyong served dinner. His cooking was incredible. The steak and baked potato were paradise on your taste buds. “Taeyong, oh my God, this is incredible. You should be a five-star chef and open a restaurant.”

Taeyong chuckled. “Thank you, y/n but I’m more of a pastry chef than anything else.”

“What’s your price for a batch of chocolate cupcakes?” You teased.

He smiled. “Free of charge.”

“But?”

“Well, if you were free to watch Jurassic Park 2 with me this week, then I would consider it.”

“I’ll take it.”

Taeyong was excited that you two would see each other outside of work again. Taeyong served you cookie dough ice cream with fudge.

You ate your ice cream. “Thank you so much for inviting me over. I haven’t been able to hang out with friends in a while so this means a lot.”

Friends. Taeyong was a little hurt at your label of him. He thought there was something between you. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to make a move so he forced a smile. “I’m glad we’re friends, too.”

…

[2 months later]

Taeyong continued to volunteer at the shelter. His ego took a nice, deserving blow after you told him you were just friends. He was still happy that he got to spend time with you. You became so close that you spent most of your time with him outside of work. You played video games and watched movies. You also fostered some animals together on the weekends.

Taeyong hadn’t thrown a party or gone to one since he started spending time with you. His phone started lighting up a lot less as the weeks passed. The truth was Taeyong had stopped hooking up with anyone else. He was focused on you. Getting to know you.  

You even told him about your ex Jaemin. You and Jaemin were going strong for 11 months. The biggest player at your university, Jaemin worked hard to get you to say yes to dating him. The romance started off beautifully and ended abruptly when Jaemin said he didn’t want to be unfair to you. The day after the breakup you saw him out with another girl like it was nothing. And a month later, they were engaged to be married. Now, they were married and expecting a child together. It seemed that he genuinely loved his wife. The way he looked at her with such affection the day after he broke up with you. It broke you because that was how you used to look at him. You thought he was the one and up to a certain point, he told you you were the one for him. You wondered how he moved on so quickly to this day.

Since then, you didn’t want to date anyone, much less a playboy. Hook-ups were something you would’ve considered but you were still hurting. Taeyong had been the first boy you looked at in five months but you still weren’t ready. However, now that you two were getting to know each other...Maybe, just maybe…

Taeyong wanted to track down Jaemin and destroy him, break up his family, and kill him. Well, maybe not to that extreme. But he wanted to avenge you for how Jaemin could’ve been so swift in hurting you and moving on like nothing. He had to wonder…

If maybe one of his coworkers had something to do with it. He’d never had a hand in pairing up a Na Jaemin with anyone. If that were the case, he would’ve never forgiven himself for pursuing you.

He finally understood that you were guarding your heart and he didn’t want to push you. He would wait for as long as it takes to…Well, he wasn’t sure...Kiss you? Take you out on a date? He wasn’t sure how romance or courting worked.

It took some convincing but Taeyong finally decided to foster Ruby for the week. He didn’t refuse before because he didn’t want Ruby. He was scared of being ill-prepared for taking care of her or that his house had some hazards for the little dog.

You drove Taeyong and Ruby back to his house. The three of you stood outside his front door. He had Ruby on a leash.

Taeyong started. “Are you sure, y/n? What if Ruby falls in the pool when I go take a shower? What if she chews at my phone charger and gets electrocuted?”

You laughed. “Taeyong, how is she going to get in the backyard? Are her paws going to magically turn into hands so that she can turn the doorknob to the back door?”

“No…”

“So long as you keep her active and give her toys and activities, she will have no reason to chew at your charger or go on an online shopping spree while you’re asleep.”

Taeyong frowned, knowing that you were mocking him now. “Fine. But if anything happens, I’m taking you down with me.”

Your eyes danced. “Fine with me.”

You three went to the beach and Ruby was having fun playing on the shoreline. Taeyong giggled like a little boy as he played fetch with her. You watched them and smiled. It was beyond you why Taeyong wouldn’t adopt Ruby. They clearly loved each other very much. Maybe today you could finally convince him.

You returned to the beach house as you ate ice cream cones from the boardwalk ice cream shop. Ruby ran back inside to drink from her water bowl. You and Taeyong lingered on the outside deck by the pool and watched the sunset. Taeyong’s chocolate ice cream cone was melting at the sides and you regretted not buying chocolate so without thinking, you licked his melting ice cream. Taeyong was caught by surprise and you looked up at him before getting back to your ice cream cone.

The innocent but teasing glint in your eye made him shocked and aroused. He paid a little too much attention to your tongue. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. And he longed for it to worship his body.

You winked. “Sorry. You’re a slow eater and it was melting…” You handed him your vanilla ice cream cone. “You can have some of mine.”

He snapped out of it and licked the cone as suggestively as he could to try and get a reaction out of you. And that he did. His big brown eyes had a mischievous glint to them. He smirked. You avoided his eyes completely. “Y/n.”

You bent down and pretended to tie your shoe and realized you weren’t wearing sneakers but sandals. You got back up, embarrassed and still looking away from him. “Yeah?”

“I like you.”

You looked back up at him. “Taeyong-”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted to say it. At least once.” He liked you for a long time now. The more time he spent with you and went out of his way to be with you every moment he could made him realize that maybe what he longed for with you wasn’t simply one night of pleasure.

He wanted more. He didn’t know exactly what that meant. But he just liked to be with you. Your kindness, your wit, your sense of humor, everything about you made Taeyong feel that heaven could be found in another person.

He didn’t want to push you, not at all. He did wonder about what things would be like if you gave into each other. But he would still wait for as long as it took for you to consider him.

You admitted, “Taeyong, I like you, too.”

He sighed in relief. “Oh, thank heavens. Let’s go out on Friday.” Hundreds of plans were running through his mind of how he wanted to spoil you for your first date. He’d been doing research on where he could take you in the city and debated whether or not a road trip to Universal Studios would be too much.

You smiled in spite of yourself. “That’s so sweet…”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready...Or if I can trust you...You’re very…experienced.”

Taeyong looked at you in confusion as he finished his ice cream cone. “What do you mean? I’ve never dated.”

“I mean...Sexually…” You muttered the last word. Your face was hot and Taeyong only looked at you like you’d said the sky was blue.

“Taeyong, before we met, you were partying every night and sleeping with multiple people. Are you going to tell me that you’re not that person anymore? Because you know what happened with Jaemin...I don’t want that again. If we are going to take this any further, you have to be honest with me. When you want to end it, show me your heart. Don’t leave me wondering what I did wrong...” He could see your eyes get bigger and redder. They were welling up. Your voice broke and it broke him to hear it.

He hated seeing you unhappy. You didn’t deserve to be burned the way you had. He wrapped his arms around you, then. For the first time. “I would never do that to you. I would never-”

You hugged him back. “Please don’t make promises you can’t keep. Let’s just take this slow...Okay?”

He never felt as close and vulnerable with someone. Then you came along and he was ready to do what he could to be with you. To at least try. “Okay.”

He caressed your face and pulled you in for a kiss. He lifted you off the ground and sat you on a ledge as he leaned down to kiss you deeper. His tongue intertwined with yours. You both tasted like ice cream and it made you both crazy with longing. You were the first to stop the kiss and reminded him, “Slow.”

He kissed your forehead. “Slow.”

…

[4 Months Later]

You and Taeyong took your new relationship slow. It drove you both crazy that you put off sleeping together for so long. You wanted to get to know Taeyong better. So did he. Even if this was the longest dry spell Taeyong had undergone, it was worth it.

“What’s got you so happy, boss?” Sicheng asked, visiting from New York. Sicheng and Kun moved out months ago when they saw that Taeyong wasn’t causing any trouble. Sicheng held Ruby in his lap. Taeyong adopted Ruby not too long after you two agreed to date.

Taeyong was worried, though. Just how far could he take things with you before he was summoned back by God? It could be five years or fifty years before He called him back to Heaven. Taeyong had to tell someone what was eating at him and Sicheng was one of his closest friends. “I need to tell you something.”

After Taeyong told Sicheng about you and what transpired all this time, Sicheng sighed, “Taeyong, this is trouble. We are not supposed to get involved with humans.”

“Sex is okay but dating and marriage are out of the question? How does that make sense?”

Sicheng frowned, reminding Taeyong of Kun at that moment. “Sex was never okay. In moderation and with zero strings attached? Sure...But you’ve crossed several lines...You’re playing with fire by pursuing y/n.”

Taeyong sighed in frustration. “I know but Sicheng, I’m falling…”

Sicheng watched Taeyong that night and witnessed how he changed after he met you. He put a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. “I know. You’ve fallen since that first night. Five seconds.”

It took Taeyong five seconds to fall in love with you.

Taeyong continued, “I want to make this work. Let our Lord find out from me.”

“But-” Sicheng started.

“I appreciate you for not ratting me out to our Father, Sicheng. You’re a good friend.”

Later that night, Taeyong picked you up from your apartment and wanted to surprise you. He blindfolded you as you sat in the passenger seat of his car. Taeyong whispered into your ear. “Can you hear me?”

You laughed and bit your lip. “Taeyong, it’s a blindfold. Not ear plugs. Why are you whispering?”

He whispered even lower and the warmth of his breath made you fidget and press your thighs harder together. “It’s fun. That’s all.”

He could tell you were aroused. He could see your nipples through your black dress and he had to control his cock from making an early appearance. It was a good thing he blindfolded you.

Taeyong drove you two in silence and his giggles made you laugh. You held hands. It didn’t take too long to reach your destination. He escorted you out of the car and removed your blindfold.

“Surprise!”

You were at the Isla Central Marina and you stood before the entrance of a yacht named Cupid’s Bow. The boat was decorated with white Christmas lights.

“Taeyong, what is all this…”

He smiled as he led you onto the boat. “It’s where we’re having dinner tonight.”

You sat down at the table set at the center of the yacht. It was decorated with white daisies. Taeyong chose white daisies because their scent reminded him of you. And for their significance.

He sat you down at your seat and squeezed your shoulders.

You looked around in wonder. The night sky was clear as the full moon shone down on you both. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Taeyong sat across from you and smiled brightly. “I want to give you the world, y/n. If you let me, I will.”

Your face felt flushed and you stared down at your lap. “You’re so corny.”

He asked for your hand and you gave it to him. He kissed it and looked at you with what could be described as bedroom eyes. He tried to seduce you a couple of times now because he loved to tease you. You’d tease him back and pretend to consider sleeping with him. Fair’s fair.

But tonight? The teasing would stop.

Someone else cleared their throat. “Welcome to Cupid’s Bow. Thank you for dining with us tonight. I will be your server, Kun.”

You gasped and laughed. “Kun, what are you doing here?”

Dressed as a waiter, Kun said, “Taeyong needed a hand for tonight. And our friend Sicheng will be maneuvering this vessel.”

You turned to Sicheng as he waved from the steering wheel. He was wearing a captain’s outfit. You fought back a laugh. They were a cheesy group of guys.

Kun started you guys off with drinks as the boat departed the marina. You sailed around the bay that connected to the ocean. The bay led into downtown Isla where the city lights shone brightly. It was a beautiful modern-day fairytale.

Taeyong started up a playlist from his Bluetooth speakers and asked you to dance. “Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran played.

Taeyong was a great dancer. He must have been classically trained for years. He spun you in circles and dipped you, pretending he was about to drop you to tease you. He pulled you close and hummed along to the lyrics. You laughed and held him tightly.

The songs continued as you and Taeyong watched the view. He held you from behind. The night was perfect.

“Y/n,” he said into your ear softly.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

You turned back to him and smiled. “I love you, too.” You kissed him.

You liked Taeyong ever since that night you met. But you started falling in love after you saw how he was with Ruby. He carried a lot of love and loyalty in his heart that it left you in awe every time you were with him. There was more to him than the wealthy bachelor persona he emitted. That wasn’t who he was. He was a man who loved fiercely. He was your best friend. And now you wanted him to be your lover.

You sat down together and ate Italian cuisine. Kun was an incredible chef. You and Taeyong share lasagna and chicken Alfredo. It was delicious. For dessert, you two fed each other gelato.

When Cupid’s Bow returned to the dock, you and Taeyong sat in the car, awkward.

Taeyong waited for you to tell him to take you home but it never came. You wanted him to suffer for a few more seconds.

You started. “Thank you for tonight.”

He cleared his throat. “I had the best time.”

“Can I stay the night?” You asked softly.

Taeyong was hearing things. “I’m sorry?”

“Let’s spend the night together.”

Taeyong was about to jump out of the driver’s seat and scream. He played it cool and his face was unreadable as he said, “Okay.”

You giggled. Taeyong was an enigma but you could see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

You returned to the beach house and darted to the pool. Taeyong ran after you. You removed your dress and turned to him, biting your lip because you knew he loved it.

You were down to your black and red lingerie and Taeyong was so close to salivating. He longed to worship your body. He stood there, unable to move. He watched you slowly descend the steps into the pool and wait for him.

He walked slowly over to you, like a tiger about to pounce on his prey. He wanted you. You could see the desire in his gaze. He unbuttoned his shirt and you could see his abs glisten against the reflection of the pool. He smirked again, knowing it drove you crazy when he did that. He slowly unbuckled his belt and you could see his bulge better as he pulled down his pants.

“Wow,” you said.

“Hmm?”

Taeyong was down to his briefs. He pulled them down and chucked them away. His physique was like that of a statue of a Greek god. He was rock solid. You swam into the deep end, waiting for him to follow you in.

Taeyong got into the pool and dove down. You couldn’t see him now.

You were waiting for him to surprise you but time passed and you wondered if something was wrong.

“Yong?” You started. “Yong!”

He crept up behind you then, pulling your panties down in the process. “Boo.”

You smacked him. “Jerk. I thought you were dying.”

Taeyong chuckled. “I wasn’t down there for that long.”

“You’re kidding, right? I counted. It was at least a minute.”

Maybe he crossed the line with his immortal abilities, then. He sighed. “What can I say? I have incredible lung capacity.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why don’t we put that to the test?” You put your arms around him and kissed him deeply.

Taeyong’s heart skipped a beat. Your soaked body got him harder. You got onto his lap and he kissed your cleavage. His kisses were everything. You had been thinking about your first night with him for a long time now.

Taeyong lowered the strap of your bra and kissed your shoulder, silently asking if he could unclasp your bra. You nodded. He adored your breasts, biting and sucking at them.

You lowered your hand to his pelvic region and felt his large cock. He grunted as you clasped it. You kissed his neck and nipped at his ears.

You both loved teasing each other so now that you were spending the night together, neither of you was going down without a fight.

After a few minutes, Taeyong carried you out of the pool. You looked up at him, admiring his flawless profile. He dried you off and he took your hand and led you upstairs to his shower.

He started up the shower and you looked up at him. He took your face into his hands and gave you a peck on the lips. He smiled.

He started washing you with his body wash. It was Jo Malone Lime Basil & Mandarin. It smelled just like Taeyong and you wished you could smell like this all the time. He carefully navigated your body like you were a fragile vase and kissed you all over. He saved your chest for the end and could feel your heartbeat against his palm. He looked up at you through hooded eyes and you kissed his nose.

You washed him and teased him as you washed around his crotch, lightly tracing it with your fingers. His skin was soft while his body was muscular. He was the most beautiful contradiction in the world.

Taeyong pulled you in for another kiss and you wrapped your arms around each other. He turned the shower off. You both dried off.

He scooped you up, making you giggle. He laid you down gently. You stretched your body against the mattress and Taeyong admired all of your angles.

“I’m going to fuck you until the sunrise, y/n,” Taeyong said as he looked down at your body. Your eyes lock on him. They were no longer doe-like.

“I bet you are,” you said, feeling a little nervous now.

He straddled you and kissed you. His cock teased its entrance into your folds. “My stars, you are the most gorgeous creature,” he said as his face was mere centimeters from yours.

You pulled him closer and you kissed again, running your hands over his back. He traced his fingers around your folds, teasing your entrance. You whimpered as you held him tightly.

You pushed him off of you and laid him back as you gripped his cock and pumped. “You think you’re the only who’s been dying for this moment?”

Taeyong gaped at you. You were the first partner to take charge. His other lovers usually let him take the lead. He didn’t mind it much but to see you cater to his needs made him dizzy.

You took his cock into your mouth and your throat burned from the contact. You couldn’t take all of him in so you had to love the rest of him with your hand. You started bobbing your head back and forth, licking the veins of his throbbing member. Taeyong grunted. “Fuck, y/n.”

You looked up at him and his heart nearly stopped again. He gripped your hair. He came into your mouth and you swallowed his seed.

“You taste better than I imagined,” you said as you wiped your mouth.

You were generous in all aspects of life but in the bedroom? Taeyong was floored. “Allow me to pamper you.”

He laid you against his bed frame and brought out handcuffs.

“Well, you came prepared. Are those new?” You hoped they were.

“Yes. They came in yesterday…Good timing, wouldn’t you say?”

You nodded as he unlocked the cuffs. “Lift your arms up, y/n.”

You obeyed and he cuffed you. Your breasts were raised beautifully and Taeyong sighed. “Breathtaking.”

You averted your gaze and Taeyong shook his head. He took your chin and turned your face to him. “No, no...Don’t get shy on me now...Not when you fucked me with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You loved how low his voice became and you felt your pussy tremble underneath him. He fondled your breasts, squeezing your nipples and biting them. He kissed around your folds. He traced his tongue at your entrance and breathed against it, making you whimper. He started whispering sweet nothings in multiple languages. He spoke in almost ten languages and you wondered who this man really was. You came once he spoke dirty French into your ear.

You were already soaked and Taeyong wanted to indulge in torturing you for a few minutes before he entered you. He started by slipping one finger into your entrance and carefully avoided your G-spot to rile you up.

“Taeyong, please,” you cried.

He stopped and kissed your forehead. “We have all night, y/n.”

You pouted. “You’re too good at torturing me.”

He smiled. “Am I torturing you? I didn’t think so.”

You wrapped your legs harder around his abdomen. “Get inside me. Now.”

He sighed. “You seem to forget that I’m calling the shots, y/n.”

You licked your lips. “Are you?”

He frowned and slipped his fingers out of your folds. “Do you not like it?”

You shook your head. “I do. I do. I do.”

He smirked. “Then, let me work.”

He continued to fingerfuck you until you cried. “Yong, please…”

“I love when you call me Yong. It destroys me,” he said as he finally entered you.

You cried out loud as his cock entered and hit you in the right places. You could feel him go deeper and could feel his cock twitching in your belly. You climaxed quickly and Taeyong quickly pulled out and came right after.

Taeyong cleaned you both up, not removing you from the cuffs just yet.

“Uh, Taeyong?”

“Yes, darling?”

“You forgot something?” You looked up at the cuffs.

“Oh, you’re right. I did forget something.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

He walked out of the room.

Your arms started to hurt from having been raised for so long. “You are so funny!”

He returned with a tray that had two glasses of water and a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream.

“Are you hungry?” Taeyong asked, acting oblivious.

“Taeyong, I think it’s your turn to try on the cuffs…”

He beamed. “Exactly what I was thinking, y/n.”

“Okay, great. Now if you can get these off of me, the chances of me choking you to death will be lower.”

He laughed. “You’re so funny.”

He sat next to you in bed. And fed you a strawberry with whipped cream on top, popping it into your mouth. He carefully slipped his finger out and licked his finger. “Mmm.”

He took the whipped cream and drew out shapes onto your body, tracing his tongue over the shapes and eating the whipped cream. It drove you crazy.

“Now that I’ve had my dessert. It’s only fair that you enjoy yours.” He uncuffed you.

You cuffed him and had your way with him. You even took it a step further and pulled out another set of handcuffs from the drawer. “I see you got an extra pair.”

He smiled. “Can never be too prepared.”

You returned his smile. “Let’s kick it up a notch. Shall we?”

You cuffed his ankles, as well. He laid in bed and waited for you to get to work on him but you decided to get the bowl of strawberries and whipped cream and eat a couple slowly. You even fed a couple to Taeyong.

You started, “This is nice.”

Taeyong grumbled in Korean.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’m just waiting here. Patient.”

“Like the good boy that you are,” you cooed.

Your voice made him harder. You took the whipped cream and traced it over your collar bone. “Lick,” you commanded.

He licked across your collarbone. Then, you drew shapes onto his body, drawing a heart around his pelvic region. You saved it for last and slowly licked around it. You kissed his tip. He groaned. You straddled him and kissed him passionately.

You teased each other like that all night and made love for hours. You fell asleep in each other’s arms, holding each other tightly. The sun had risen a few hours ago. You woke up first and found Taeyong holding you tightly to his chest. He felt your movement in his sleep and he held you tighter. The sun lit up his features. He looked like an angel.

You kissed his cheek and his eyes opened slowly. “Good morning.”

You smiled. “Hi.”

He stretched and held you again. “I need to check on Ruby.”

You shook your head. “I’ll take care of her. You sleep.”

He whined. “It’s okay. You rest.”

You giggled. “It’s okay.”

You and Taeyong got cleaned up. You borrowed some of Taeyong’s clothes. You took Ruby for a walk around the neighborhood. You spent a quiet day together, living in utter bliss.

…

[1 Week Later]

Taeyong was on cloud nine. Having you in his life made him complete. He can’t imagine it getting better than this. You were at work and Taeyong was preparing dinner for you as you were sleeping over later. He was going to ask you to move in.

He finished his homemade pepperoni pizza and put it in the oven. He heard the doorbell ring. Ruby barked and he joined her to see who was at the door. It couldn’t be you. It was too early. He opened the door to find Mark at the door.

“Mark!” Taeyong smiled and hugged him. Mark was another one of his coworkers and close friends. Taeyong regarded him as a little brother.

“Taeyong, it’s great to see you…Wow, you are glowing.” Mark eyed him carefully.

He smiled, thinking about you. “Yeah...I guess I am. Come in!”

After they sat down and caught up with each other, Mark said, “I’ll cut to the chase...I’m here in Isla for my next pairing session.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. The usually lighthearted boy looked serious. “I know about y/n.”

Taeyong’s smile faded. Ruby snuggled tighter to Taeyong as she rested on his lap. “Who-“

He shook his head. “I found out myself. Y/n is my next assignment.”

Taeyong felt his world crashing down onto him. “No…”

Mark sighed. “I expected one of the fledglings to get into this mess but you? Our mentor? It’s absurd.”

“Mark-“

“Father doesn’t know…Imagine his disappointment when he finds out. He doesn’t have to. If you end it now.”

Taeyong’s chest was on fire. Tears were threatening to fall. “No.”

Mark frowned. “What?”

“You heard me, Mark. I’m not leaving her.”

Mark sighed. “Once I strike the arrows at her and her partner, it’ll be over.”

Taeyong shook his head. “Mark, please.”

Mark hurt for his friend but his duty as a Cupid came first. “I’m sorry, Taeyong. This is how our world works. You’re the one who told me so.”

Taeyong hated this. He hated the world he knew before you. How could he go  back to a world of bringing love to others and have no love himself? He couldn’t. Not after meeting you. You’d been burned before. No doubt by one of the Cupids interfering. He wasn’t about to let that happen again.

“Taeyong, if you interfere with y/n’s pairing...There’s no telling what the consequences will be.”

“I’ll be the one to deal with that, Mark. But I won’t let you come between us.”

After their exchange, Mark left. Taeyong retired to the kitchen to check on the pizza. It was ready.

“What is he saying, Taeyong?” You started.

“Y/n?!” Taeyong jumped as he found you waiting for him at the kitchen island. 

You’d snuck in earlier to surprise him with sweet potatoes you bought from the farmer’s market. You wanted to scare him because it was a bit of yours. You snuck through the back door with your own set of keys he gave you.

You were about to duck your head into the living room when you heard Taeyong say he wouldn’t leave you. Your heart sank.

He wanted to hold you. “Y/n…”

You crossed your arms. “What is going on? Who is Mark? And who exactly is your father? What exactly is your job, Taeyong? Because I’m beginning to suspect you’re not a dating guru.”

Taeyong sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Taeyong checked the schedules of the fledglings at work in Isla. The best way for him to prove his identity to you was to show you how Cupids worked. “Come with me.”

He drove you to an amusement park. You turned to him. “You are not taking me on a date right now.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. Just follow me.”

He led you into the park and you sat down on a bench by the haunted house.

Taeyong started. “See that guy in the leather jacket? That’s my coworker Shotaro.”

“I don’t see him…” There was no one by that description where Taeyong was pointing.

“Y/n, hold my hand.”

“Taeyong, now’s not the time.”

“Please. Just do it.”

You gave in and held his hand and suddenly, a young man in a leather jacket appeared. Shotaro was carrying a bow and a bag of arrows. He prepared his arrow to shoot at someone leaving the haunted house.

“Taeyong, what is he doing?!” You yelled.

Taeyong shushed. “Y/n, just watch.”

You put a hand over your mouth and you were about to run over and stop this madness. Taeyong held you back.

Shotaro released the arrow and hit the young woman first. She looked at her best friend and kissed her cheek. Shotaro then shot another arrow at the best friend. She kissed the first young woman on the lips, then. The arrows vanished just as quickly as they pierced both women. It was as if they were never struck. Shotaro noticed Taeyong and waved before he faded away.

You rubbed your eyes. “Taeyong?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell was that?”

“More like what the heaven was that…”

“Explain.”

Taeyong explained everything to you. How he was Cupid. How there were Cupids all over the world bringing people together. Taeyong was the original Cupid and he was on vacation. You took it all in and a lot of things started to make sense. Why he never spoke about his family or his job. How a lot of things were so new to him. It wasn’t because he was a sheltered rich boy. He wasn’t even human. He was a god.

This also meant that your concept of love was completely wrong. Cupids had their hand in romance all over the world. Which made you realize...

“So…When Jaemin broke up with me, it was because of you guys?”

Frustrated that you brought up Jaemin, Taeyong managed to say, “Yes…”

Tears fell from your eyes. “And you were never going to tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place to-“

“Oh, hell, if it’s not...How long were you going to play me like this? You were going to leave, anyway. What was the plan? Lead me on and then dump me like Jaemin did?”

Stabbed by your words, he begged, “Stop saying his name.”

“Well? How long were you planning to lead me on for? I’m sure you have a carefully crafted schedule for your next victim ready.”

Taeyong shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

Tears fell onto your lap. “Taeyong, I loved you. Did you ever love me?”

The past tense killed him to hear. “Y/n, I love you. I’ve never loved anyone in all my years. You’re the only one for me.”

“Taeyong, you’re going to leave me.” You sobbed.

He shook his head. “I won’t leave you. I’ll fight for us.”

You hugged him tightly and he shushed you. He bought you a funnel cake with a large cup of lemonade to share. You both ate in silence for a few minutes.

You broke the silence.“When Mark said I had a pairing session, that means that I’m being matched with someone. Someone that isn’t you…”

“Yes…”

“Taeyong, I don’t want to be matched with someone else. What are we going to do?”

“I have a plan.”

You sighed. “I’m being selfish.” “What? No...Why would you think that?”

You took a sip of the lemonade. “The consequences of you disobeying...God, I still can’t believe it....I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Taeyong replied, “Let me deal with that, y/n. I will fight for us. It’ll take some convincing but after all of my years with Father, he has to listen to me.”

…

[The Next Day]

Tonight was the animal shelter’s fundraising gala in downtown Isla. It was held at the lavish Sun and Moon Hotel’s ballroom. Your potential partner would be in attendance tonight but you didn’t care. All you cared about was Taeyong and what he had up his sleeve. Mark was mingling with the other guests. He didn’t know that you were in on his plans with you. He met your eyes and smiled, playing the part of the oblivious but charming young man.

As far as Mark knew, you and Taeyong broke up last night so you had to look miserable. And frankly, you felt miserable not knowing what was about to happen with Taeyong. There was a chance you could lose him forever tonight. But you held onto the chance of remaining with him.

You forced a smile and continued to mingle with the guests. Meanwhile, Taeyong disguised himself and kept an eye on Mark. Mark may have been a well-established Cupid by now but he was not at Taeyong’s level. He was off by a few centuries.

The shelter had received a lot of donations from many local businesses and celebrities. You gave a thank you speech to all the attendees for their generosity and raised your glass to them. The uncertainty was killing you underneath it all.

Taeyong watched Mark prepare his arrow, then. Mark was no longer seen by humans. You realized Mark and Taeyong were missing, which meant it was time. Taeyong prepared his arrows. He stabbed himself with his own arrow as he watched you. Right before Mark shot his arrow, Taeyong shot at you. You turned to him, then, finally able to see him. Mark realized too late what he had done.

Mark yelled. “What have you-”

Taeyong and Mark vanished.

…

[5 Years Later]

The year you spent with Taeyong had vanished from your memory. The night of the gala after Taeyong and Mark disappeared, you continued on with your life. Living with an inexplicable hole in your heart. You thought it was because you were being dramatic. Seeing a lot of your friends get married and have kids didn’t help your case either. Meanwhile, you were alone. Working hard and thriving, sure. But emotionally, you weren’t all there.

None of your friends or family remembered Taeyong either. It was as if he never existed to any of you. One day, Jisoo introduced you to one of her friends from her gym. You two hooked up not too long afterwards. The night was fun. It was a one-time thing.

However, that one-time thing ended up in your pregnancy. The father wanted nothing to do with your child so he skipped town. You didn’t hold it against him. The child was unplanned and you decided to carry on with the pregnancy on your own. Your friends and family were very supportive. You gave birth to a baby girl named Daisy.

The emptiness in your heart was filled by your love for Daisy. She was your world. She was your partner in crime. You wanted to give her everything good the world had to offer. Maybe someday you could give her a father.

After dropping her off at pre-school, you stopped by the post office to send out a letter to your pen pal. Isla recently started up a pen pal program for its citizens to send each other letters and gifts. You were paired up with someone who shared a lot of the same interests as you: favorite movies, foods, and animals.

You were paired up with a man named Lee Taeyong.

Dear Taeyong,

I’m sending you a copy of my favorite movie of all time, Jurassic Park. Please let me know if you like it. If you do, there’s a bunch of stickers in it for you. I hope you have safe travels to Munich and Budapest.

Warmly,

y/n

Taeyong had faced serious consequences for interfering with your pairing session. The work that had to be put in to pair up y/n’s original partner, Nakamoto Yuta, with someone else put everyone into a frenzy. Thankfully, the damage was repaired.

However, the Lord was pissed. Taeyong disobeyed him. Even though God adored him, he knew he had to be punished. For every second it took for Taeyong to fall in love with you, it would take a year for you two to reunite.

God relieved Taeyong of his Cupid duties and wished him a wonderful life as a human. He looked forward to Taeyong returning to him again one day.

Taeyong returned to Isla with an established job as a pilot. Ruby remained with him. His friends Sicheng and Kun would look after her while Taeyong was away now and then. He loved traveling the world but he loved coming home to Ruby most of all. He tried dating a couple of times but it never clicked with anyone. And hook-ups were a thing of the past. He wanted something serious. He hoped to find someone to call his person someday.

He recently sent his pen pal a letter before departing for his flight to Paris.

Dear y/n,

I loved Jurassic Park. I can’t believe I wasted so many years of my life not knowing this movie. Don’t hold back on the stickers. I’m sending you a copy of one of my favorite movies. It’s called Train to Busan. Try not to swoon too hard over Gong Yoo or I might get a little jealous.

Warmly,

Taeyong

You two exchanged letters frequently and after a few more months, you decided to meet up at the cafe right next to the shelter. Taeyong walked past the shelter, arriving early for your meet-up. He was thrilled to meet you and finally put a face to your name. He looked at the windows where adoptions were currently underway.

That was when he saw you.

And just like that everything flooded back to him. How you two already knew each other once. How you became friends and grew together. How you fell in love.

He ran into the shelter and called your name. “Y/n!”

You were answering a volunteer’s question when you heard someone call your name. When you turned to the person who called you, it all came rushing back to you. All of the memories. All of the love for him that you carried in your heart. 

“Taeyong…” Your eyes welled up.

You ran towards each other. You jumped into his arms, then. You laughed and cried together. You took a ten minute break to sit outside with Taeyong.

“I can’t believe it’s you…” He cried.

“Me neither...It’s been five years…”

“Five years...A year for every second it took for me to fall in love with you…” Geez, he thought, God was so unfair and so corny at the same time.

Five years without each other was too much for either of you to bear. You caught up on each other’s lives. Taeyong was shocked to find out you have a daughter. You were shocked that Taeyong was a human now.

But now this meant that you two could grow old together. Daisy could finally have a father. And you couldn’t wait to hold Ruby again.

…

[1 Year Later]

After a year of dating and getting to know each other again, you and Taeyong got married. Daisy and Taeyong adored each other. Ruby was happy to see you again and more than happy to welcome Daisy into her life. It was a beautiful union.

All of your friends were in attendance. Jisoo was weeping so hard. Jaehyun and his boyfriend Johnny were in attendance. Taeyong was shocked that it hadn’t been Jaehyun who claimed your heart after all this time. It turned out that Jaehyun was just a concerned friend. They became good friends.

You got married at the beach. You wore a stunning mermaid white gown. You walked down the aisle with a train decorated with white daisies. The white daisies translated to: “I love you truly.” Sicheng, a violinist, played his rendition of “All My Life” by K-Ci & JoJo. It was yours and Taeyong’s song.

Taeyong donned a black tuxedo. A daisy decorated his lapel. He nearly broke down in tears at how lovely you looked. You couldn’t help the huge smile on your face.

You recite your vows to each other. You started, “Taeyong, from the moment we first met...My life became tinted in shades of pinks and oranges again. I could see that the world could be beautiful. You helped me find happiness again. A happiness I didn’t know I needed until I met you. I adore you and will adore you even into the afterlife. Whatever happens, I will always be here for you. You have my heart. My everything. I cannot wait to spend our lives together with Daisy, Ruby, and our future children. I love you.”

Taeyong replied, “Y/n, you are my world. I found love in you. You are the light of my life. You made me a better person and you made me want to live and enjoy life. The world is beautiful because of you. I love you with all of my heart. I promise you that we will always be together. No matter what life...and the after life...will throw at us. I am yours. I will always be with you. My love. My darling y/n...I love our family. Daisy and Ruby, we love you so much. I cannot wait to raise our family together, y/n. I love you.”

Officiant Kun continued, “By the power vested in me by the State of Sweetwater, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Taeyong scooped you up and kissed you, earning applause from your friends and family.

A magical day of many. You two lived happily ever after.

Fin.

#taeyong x you #taeyong smut #taeyong boyfriend #taeyong imagine #taeyong scenario #nct #nct 127 #taeyong #nct au #nct imagine #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct romance #nct boyfriend #Nct x you #Nct x reader #taeyong x reader #taeyong x y/n #nct x y/n #Taeyong blurb #taeyong oneshot #Taeyong romance #Nct 127 romance #Nct 127 smut #Nct scenario #Nct reaction #Taeyong reaction #taeyong au #nct halloween blurb #nct halloween

[comfortscripts]

May I Have This Dance? ¬ Steve Rogers

Plot - After retiring his shield, Steve's partner realises that he seems to be missing something.

Requested? Yes/No

Genre - ☁️️Fluff ☁️️

Note/Warning - Steve didn't return to Peggy after Endgame (I refuse to accept that ending honestly), I think this is GN but please let me know if I have used fem!pronouns, also the reader wears a dress in this so if you are uncomfortable with that be aware.

Word Count - 1.7k

After your husband Steve retired from the superhero living, life seemed dull in his eyes. You could see that his once vibrant baby blues had lost their sparkle, their joy for life.

Whilst him having more time meant that your relationship thrived, Steve was missing something and you were missing him being truly happy.

It was Sunday and a rule of the Rogers relationship is that Sunday was an "Old School Day".

No technology, no going to the city and no current news or media of any kind.

It took a while to get use to but you soon learned to love it because it meant that you had the whole day with your soulmate, no distractions. But today was different, there was one thing that had taken up your entire focus all day.

A few days prior, you were in line at the supermarket when you spotted a flyer.

DANCE YOURSELF BACK TO THE 40s!

Have you ever wondered what a 40s dance was like?

Well if the answer is yes, get yourself down to the Michaelton Hall this Sunday at 7:30pm

The cashier was a motherly looking woman in her late 60s named Dorothy, her family had owned the supermarket here since the 1920s and being a cashier here was her first job. Twice a week she would come down and "relive her youth" as her husband always jokes.

"I thought that might catch your eye" Dorothy spoke after watching you inspect the flyer. "The old music, the clothes and just that feeling of a simpler time. I'm hoping to convince William to take me but getting him to dress up like a princess is more likely than getting him to dance."

You laugh at the woman's joke but mainly at the idea of William in a frilly dress. William and Dorothy had been married for 52 years but the only time William ever danced with her was on their wedding night, a story that you thought was sad but Dora took it in her stride.

"Well I am thinking that this might be a good way to get Steve out of his funk, even for only a night" You say with a wistful look on your face whilst piling fruit into your shopping bag.

"What a wonderful idea my dear!" Dorothy exclaimed whilst scanning the final item "There is a quaint little vintage store about half a mile out of town, I am sure you'd find a dress to knock Steve's socks off"

Smiling at the woman, you hand her some cash before taking one last look at the flyer "You are like a fairy godmother Dora. Have a lovely day and hopefully see you at the dance".

By the next morning, you were keen to start prepping for the Sunday surprise. Giving your husband a kiss goodbye, you headed off to 'run some errands'.

First stop was buying the tickets, then that left you with finding the perfect 40s dress.

You headed out of town to the vintage store Dorothy mentioned but you were not prepared for how beautiful the shop was. Flowers in corners all over the place, fairy-lights decorated the clothing racks and old pieces of sparkling jewellery was displayed throughout the store.

You could have spent hours in there, it felt like a visual time machine but it seemed luck was on your side. As you strolled further into the store, you noticed a stunning pastel floor-length satin dress with light embellishments near the sleeves. That was exactly what you needed.

Everything was ready. Tickets were bought, dress was found and Steve's old military suit was ready to be worn. All you had to do now was keep it from your husband till Sunday.

Making it to Sunday evening was difficult, you had nearly exposed the plans twice but thankfully Steve believed the excuses you came up with. But now it was time to get ready.

"My love, guess what I found the other day in the attic" You call out to your super-solider husband. "Your old army uniform. Perfect condition as well".

Handing the outfit to Steve, you see his eyes light up with the memories of his time back in the 1940s. Although he looked only slightly older than he did the last time he wore it, it was like looking back in time.

"Wow, I didn't think I would ever see this again." He spoke caressing the material.

"Steve, do you think you could maybe try it on again? I would love to have a glimpse of what use to be the fashion" You asked carefully, trying to make sure he didn't suspect anything else.

A small smile graced his face. "Of course, I probably would have wanted to try it on either way" And with a laugh, he headed upstairs to suit up.

Whilst the super-solider was getting ready, you slipped into your dress and quickly slipped on an oversized shirt which made it look like you were wearing a long skirt and t-shirt. Applying a bit of makeup before double checking that your purse was ready with the tickets, car keys and some other essentials.

Hearing footsteps descend your staircase, you turn around to a fully suited and confident looking Steve Rogers. This man has managed to make you fall more in love every day for the past 6 years but in this moment, he took your breath away.

"You look so handsome. How did I ever get lucky enough to call you my husband?" You express as you reach up to lay the corner of his collar down. Even though you compliment your husband all the time, Steve still flushes a bit red at the sweet words.

Leaning in to give him a small kiss, you suddenly remember that you are on a time constraint. You pull back with a mischievous grin dancing on your face.

"Oh no, I know that face. What have you done?" Steve asks with a little chuckle. Instead of responding, you grab his hand and head out to the car. After instructing him to get into the passenger seat, you settle yourself in the driver's seat and start the car whilst Steve sits beside you watching like he was trying to solve a puzzle - the puzzle being you.

"I have a surprise for you but I am going to need you to put this blindfold on whilst I drive us there" With a grin on your face and your hand offering a silk blue blindfold to your incredibly confused but handsome husband.

Cautiously Steve reaches for the blindfold and puts it on, he would trust you with his life so why not trust you with a small surprise.

After driving for 15 minutes or so, Steve feels the car stop and turn off.

"Wait one second" You say before he hears you open your door.

Bubbling with excitement you quickly discard of your t-shirt, place some kitten heels on and apply a sultry shade of red on your lips before throwing anything you don't need in the trunk.

Walking over to Steve's side of the car, you calm your nerves slightly with a deep breathe. Opening the passenger door, you take a hold of Steve's hand and carefully guide him towards the entrance of the hall.

Sounds of Moonlight Serenade songs fill his ears as he enters, still completely oblivious to his partner's scheme. He notices that it is far warmer in this area and that he can smell a mix of perfume and whiskey.

"Okay baby, when I count to 3, you can take off your blindfold" You finally say.

"1"

"2"

"3"

As Steve removes the silk blocking his vision and is immediately hit with a feeling of nostalgia. The hall looked like something out of his memories; men and women dressed in 40s fashion dancing the night away, a small band playing all the most popular songs from the decade he yearned for, men who reminded him of Bucky trying to pick up girls at the bar.

Steve thought that he was blown away until he saw his Y/N. The person who made life worth living, who made everything seem light again. There they stood, looking like they had just walked off the silver screen from an old movie. Steve never really believed that he could live such a happy life but somewhere along the way, he must have done something right because now he is married to an angel.

Walking up to you, he placed his hands on your waist and looked deep into your eyes. Drowning in Steve's ocean blue eyes was a favourite past-time of yours but this felt more than that.

"I noticed you have been a bit down since you gave up the shield and I couldn't see you frown anymore." You whisper quietly as if you were nervous that this plan wouldn't work.

"I know I say it constantly but I love you, Y/N Rogers. Your kindness, your care, your effortless beauty, you." Steve recited, filling every word with pure love and appreciation. "Sometimes I think that I am no one if I am not Captain America or I don't belong in this world but you. You, Y/N, you made me realise that you are my home, not the past. You are the only one I need in this life-time or any other life-time because you taught me who I am beyond the shield."

Tears start to well up in your eyes as you hang off his every word.

"This dance is amazing but what makes me happy is that I get to spend tonight and every night with my soulmate" Steve takes a step back and extends his hand. "So, may I have this dance my darling?"

Reaching for his hand, you make your way onto the dance floor amongst the other couples. As the song dies down, Stella by Frank Sinatra starts filling the hall with a romantic atmosphere and you feel Steve place his hand on your hip before placing another in your hand. This was truly a night to remember.

As you sway with your husband, you let your eyes wander to the other dancing couples and near the centre of the dance floor, you spot Dorothy and William smiling and swaying like teenagers again.

All you can do is hope that you and Steve will be dancing together when you are old and grey.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve rogers fluff #captain america imagine #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #marvel imagine #steve rogers oneshot #captain america oneshot

[strayinvelvet]

[what a fool in love]

Jisung thinks you couldn’t get any cuter when you have your cheeks all pink because of your tiny crush on him

pairing: han jisung x reader

genre: fluff, high school au, jisung is babo but cute

wc: 1.5k (this was supposed to be around 500 only but  got carried away)

warning: swear words, improper capitalization because i wrote this in tumblr drafts but just hit up my ask if this annoys you!

a/n: finally posting something after bouncing so many times! hopefully i can post consistently :(

Jisung thinks you couldn’t get any cuter when you have your cheeks flushed, especially when it’s because of him.

he has been observing you for months now and he notices. he notices how you would always stutter when you talk to him. you never do that when you talk to hyunjin or seungmin. he notices how your cheeks would turn a bright shade of pink when he calls you first. sometimes it would even reach your nose.

it’s not like he has been watching you. there was just this one time when he felt like eyes are on him. the bugging feeling was present for most of the day 'til he looked around and there you were, staring right at him. now jisung isn’t really one to boast, but he knows he’s one of the “handsome princes” of the school. he is not oblivious to the number of girls and boys that have a puppy to huge crush on him, thanks to the letters and free lunches he receives every once in a while. 

so from then on, he knows. you’ve been showing signs of your secret crush towards him and he finds it absolutely adorable. the silent yet friendly fella of the class who never finds a struggle in having a conversation with someone despite being a stranger to her, except with him. he wouldn’t say he doesn’t enjoy watching it. 

During lunch last time, when your friends abandoned you to go do their unfinished homework, you asked him, with the most shy and the most adorable look, if you can sit with him in his table. of course, the gentleman that he is, he let you sit. how could he let you possibly spend the whole lunch time looking for a seat? he swear he was only doing you a favor. well, he wouldn’t deny finding you stealing a few short glances at him amusing.

there was also this time when your biology teacher assigned the two of you to be “homework buddies.” it must have taken you a lot of courage to start the conversation. he would’ve pinched your cheeks that time if it weren’t for his self control: hey han jisung, she still hasn’t confessed to you. don’t make her uncomfortable. ah! and what was that you asked him? if he understand how the heart works? and then you went to full on nerd mode in explaining to him how it pumps blood and all the science-y stuff. how its beats depend on different factors, including external ones such as thoughts and feelings towards others. he’s pretty sure you were trying to convey something to him. dropping hints, i see. ahh, if only he could physically coo at you. 

now the reason why he enjoys your actions the most is your subtleness. he can tell that you have no plans to tell him how you feel, save for your natural reaction when you see him, unlike the others who basically throw themselves at him. he can see your efforts to not make the two of you uncomfortable. and all it told him was how considerate you are. you’ve probably noticed how the confessions annoy him sometimes, especially when it was given to him at a bad timing. like the person just wanted to let it out with no regards if he’s in the mood to hear it or not. but you, you have always checked on him silently before doing something. not until today.

your classmates have gone to their respective homes. he just finished practicing with the dance club and was just on his way to the school gates when you called his name hastily. you stopped speed-walking in front of him and took a deep breath as if you just ran out of air. you were holding a folded piece of paper in your hand- wait. piece of paper? is that a letter? a love letter?! oh no...

“hey jisung. i have something to say. actually it’s-”

“no! wait!” he hastily said to stop you.

 startled, you looked at him with a puzzled look, “hm..?”

no, you weren’t supposed to confess today. where did you get the sudden courage? is it from hyunjin? that man always encourage people to confess just to piss him off. tsk, that dick.

he looked at you with hesitation. are you nervous? he really didn’t want to leave you heart broken, tho.

he sighed, “how do i say this...” he gulped an imaginary lump in his throat before continuing, “ yn, you’re cute, i admit. but you see i’m not ready for a relationship yet. you’ve seen me turn down other confessions, i think, but i don’t want to do that to you because, well, you’re simply kind and... pure?” shit how do i really say this?

while he’s thinking of nice synonyms he can say instead as a replacement for what he’s about to say, you on the other hand, were left dumbfounded.

what is this guy on...?

when he finally seemed to quiet down, you didn’t even try to comprehend what he said (there’s no need to try honestly it’s impossible) before finally saying what you really needed to say. 

“jisung...” you paused for a while blinking at him, “i- i was gonna say ms. kim wants you in her office tomorrow during self-study hour. it’s about your biology grades,” you gave him the paper you were holding - his biology test marked with a big red, “you failed your preliminary quiz again and she’s afraid you’re going to fail the final quiz. she wanted me to say it because we’ve been partners for this subject.”

and then the most awkward silence ensued. not until he spoke with the most “huh?” tone.

“what?”

“Ms. Kim-”

“no wait i heard that. just... what?”

at this point you didn’t know what to say. your eyes travel from one point to another except to his eyes just because he’s clearly unfathomable right now.

“you weren’t-” he stopped to swallow the lump in his throat that now actually exists, “you weren’t going to confess?” he asked (with a bit of a hope that you actually were on the way to do so just to save him from humiliation).

however, he’s hopeless from his mess.

with a furrowed brows you finally answered, “no...? where’d you get that?”

well shit.

“i mean- don’t you like... have a crush on me?”

“where is this coming from?” you kind of dragged the where part because part of you hoped to understand where he’s coming from.

“you were all blushy with me!!” he is currently on his mission to prove that you liked him.

“when?!”

“last week! it even reached your nose and you were so cu-”

“han jisung! it’s winter! i had colds last week!”

“what about that time in the cafeteria when you were all shy?! and that time when you were explaining to me, OUT OF THE BLUE, about how liking someone makes your heart beat and stuff? or when i would catch your eyes on me?!”

“when were those even?! and you totally took that biology thing out of context!” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. you are so into this argument now.

the both of you went through this banter with your voices going higher the further the banter gets for as long as your memory (or jisung’s. he’s racking up his brain to save himself) could allow. however, as the banter got stretched, the more he realized that he really did misunderstand you and your adorable actions. by a lot. so when it finally donned him that he has such a thick face for thinking like that, plus assuming that you would confess, he finally kept quiet and let himself absorb the stupidity he has done.

for you, however, you find this whole strange exchange hilarious. normally, if it was other guys, you’d have slapped him across the street for assuming things. but it is han jisung. he never rubbed it on anyone’s faces that he has a lot of admirers. he never gets cocky about his popularity. he gets shy over small praises (he loves praises). he also managed to teach the whole class one lesson in calculus minutes before an exam just because his friends asked him to teach them a crash course, until the whole class joined their little tutorial.

“soo...” you tried to start.

“wait don’t talk anymore this is kinda embarrassing for me,” he closed his eyes shut as if he's trying to convince himself to wake up from this embarrassing nightmare.

you giggled, well isn't he adorably clumsy? he's weird but you'd just take it as another opportunity to gain a close friend. “do you still need help in biology? i kinda need help in calculus...”

“alright, let’s head down the diner” he answered immediately before walking straight forward without looking at you.

"jisung!” he stopped on his tracks but without looking at you. “it’s this way!" you pointed at the opposite direction of where he was going. he turned towards you and fast-walked in that direction until you told him to wait for you in which he slowed down his steps by tenfold until you were right beside him. still not letting your eyes meet. he’s that embarrassed.

little did you both know a close friend is not only thing you'd gain from this.

#districtninewriters #inkidz #stray kids #han jisung #stray kids au #han jisung au #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #han jisung fluff #han jisung x you #stray kids x reader

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Allurement: Waves

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

The scantily-leaved trees held on to the last of their dying offspring. But the west-winds seemed to be unbothered, trying to tear away those leaves from the branches as the rest, hued in dull to bright shades of nature danced along on the ground.

And a few crushed beneath (Y/N)'s shoes, it would have been a fun activity: crushing dried leaves under her shoes. But she was rushing towards the car waiting for her.

"So quick!" Park Jimin, as sweet and polite as the man could be, was no less a sassy hellion if he required to be. And of all, he loved to sass around her the best. But most of the time, he did have a good reason to.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I woke up late." (Y/N) was quick to apologise, as she passed him a sheepish smile while taking a seat beside him.

"You are lucky that I like you, besides, we can always drive a bit faster, or take the shortcut? So do put on your seatbelt." he smiled at her before the car roared to life and the wheels came to life and the car went off.

It had not been too long since she had begun working under Mr Kim as his secretary, temporary secretary. About three months or so. But the previous autumn, when he had put forth the proposal of giving her the job, it did not feel long ago, while in reality. it had been a year, a whole, complete revolution of the earth around the Sun and there she was, riding with Jimin to her workplace- the Kim Group of Companies' headquarters, where the respected young CEO sat and operated from.

And within a year, nothing seemed to have changed, the water of life seemed to be stagnant. But she could feel the change, deep, greater changes like upheaval in the ocean, the waves, gigantic, monstrous, terrifying. Threatening to drown her. There was so much that had changed.

Park Jimin was a great company and an excellent friend. She had found out soon after the bond of friendship had been established between the two.

Kim Namjoon was an excellent boss and that, her job as his secretary, as reasonably draining, had so much to learn from. She admired Miss Choi for her efficiency, (Y/N) had so much more to learn, both from her job as well as her employer.

And she also discovered, gradually of course, that behind the all too sophisticated, groomed gentleman laid a clumsy gentle giant who would often burn his fingers trying to make himself a cup of coffee, or even trying to pass on hot food and drinks to her. And it was devastatingly endearing.

But most of all, (Y/N) had learnt that her mother was dying. The illness was eating her mother away, chipping away her health and endurance and there was nothing (Y/N) could do about it, nothing could prevent the inevitable. So she made peace with the fact, even though she knew that deep within, she was dreading the day her mother's sunken eyes would close for eternity. But she came to accept the fact that her mother could not be saved. All she could do was to make peace with the tragedy of life, that lied within the shortness of it.

So on the surface, (Y/N)'s life was calm and stable as a lake, yet the giant waves of changing wind terrified her under the same surface.

----

"You have a meeting with the lead investors this morning, the files and reports have been arranged at your desk." she listed off from her phone gifted by the company. It was not the day's schedule, a day in Kim Namjoon's life was nothing if it could not be defined as 'busy', it was the first half of a typical Monday morning in the company.

As soon as she was done, which was rather quickly, she placed a cup of steaming brew in front of her employer- double expresso with two cubes of sugar- just the way he liked it. Mr Kim smiled at her appreciatively. It was one of the many things she liked about him and admired. He never took his employees for granted, he had never failed to let her know that he appreciated her efforts to keep his day running smoothly and sorting things out for him.

"Thank you (Y/N), I hope you had your share of morning booster as well?" she nodded with a faint smile playing on her lips before handing off the files to him as she began to brief him regarding the topics and issues he and the company had been working on.

The projects and the required consumptions and stock- price data. It was not every day that the investors would gather at the conference room, but since a new project at hand was to begin, a meeting with the investors was required.

"Well, the reports look good (Y/N), did Mr Min mail you the required files?"

"Yes, the deal was explained there. He would be presenting along with you, it is regarding the profit margin and how the chances of loss and risk are low this time," she explained, to which he nodded

"Yes, and I require you to be with me in this meeting."

"Of course I will be with you, Sir, I am your secretary."

"No, I mean sit beside me, you won't be standing behind as you have been. And I expect all your focus on the presentation, okay? There is so much you would be learning from this." she gave him an obedient nod with a small smile.

She did not intend to disappoint him at any cost. Mr Kim was her role model, she looked up to him. Given, that she despised the spotlight and the position of CEO was not for her, but she was found herself to be a perfect fit for the position of secretary.  Despite how demanding her job could get, Mr Kim was an excellent boss and mentor. He was at ease, most of the time. At most, she had seen his eyes grow cold and jaws clenched, perhaps only twice, that too if something went seriously downhill. It was a sliver of what might be laying under the controlled and calm persona. He was a human too after all.

She made her way towards her desk as soon as the briefing was over. Mr Kim's office was massive, and he did not wish to waste time on having to ring her to come to his office, thus he had a desk for her arranged in his office itself. It was kind of a mini-open office, her boss and her working under the same roof, no barriers between them, she could approach him anytime she wanted to and he did not need a phone anymore to summon her.

They had settled into a routine like that. She would begin her day by bringing him his much-needed cup of coffee and listing the first half of his morning schedule, then she could begin with her works of arranging files, stacking reports, sending emails, scanning through and replying to the mails, researching on the potential business partners, making and answering phone calls, deciding and listing appointment and other project-related materials those were deemed necessary by Mr Kim.

And all the months of working under him had been able to provide her with a unique perspective of him. There were so many things she would have never been able to discover otherwise, for instance, the fact that he loved crabs- not on his plate- but on his palms as he would gently cradle those tiny creatures whenever he would come across them. He even owned a crab, a pet crab. She would not have known had he not rambled off regarding his love for crabs while he had ordered gourmet food for them when she was required to stay some extra hours, which was a frequent occurrence. The workload could be a bit too much for him to handle, besides, those extra hours consisted far less of work one would expect and more of them talking, she had finally been able to let him enter her comfort zone, she would be damned if she had not. He had been exceptionally generous to her, he was kind and approachable, time and again he had proved it, both as a superior as well as a person.

He was warm, gentle and funny, unintentionally funny. Especially when he would break his glasses more than once a month, it would be a miracle if his AirPods would not be lost within the first week of purchase. And while his constant misplacement of files and other such important documents had managed to make her purse her lips in annoyance more than once. The warm, dimpled sheepish smile had did not allow the annoyance to remain. Because even if he would be exhausted after a day's of overwhelming work, he would not forget to wish her good night before they left the office, because even if she would be a bit late with her coffee, he never threw a fit like one would expect the boss to do. And because despite his busy schedule, he would manage to inquire about her mother's health.

Mr Kim was different. He was everything any woman would crave for and desire. And despite not being the one with shallow indulgence, she had found herself falling for her employer. It did not happen overnight. It was a gradual process, like sleep.

(L/N)(Y/N) was in love with Kim Namjoon, her boss, the heir of the legendary Kim Group of Companies.

And it had been so easy to fall in love with that man. Despite her previous reservations. And she was well-aware that the love would go tragically unreciprocated. They were worlds apart in more than one ways, the social gap, the economic gap, the professional. Everything laid in front of her to see, understand and accept the fact that her love for Kim Namjoon could not bridge the distance between the moon and a mere earthly admirer. To him, she would be many of the faceless women waiting for his attention and thronging around him if he came to know about her newfound feelings. And she did not want that to happen. She did not wish to ruin the sweet, friendly professional bond she had established with him.

And yet, she could not help the bittersweet blooms in her heart every time she would see him smile. Because she knew that sooner or later, he would be having a much warmer smile, eyes shining with love and adoration for a woman who would own his heart. It was impossible for a man like Kim Namjoon to remain single for long, he was the country's most eligible bachelor after all. Or perhaps he already had someone special in his heart, a secret lover perhaps. The mere thought dimmed her mood and often made her shoulders slump.

Of all the massive, daunting waves threatening to crash upon her, her newfound romantic attachment to her employer was the most terrifying one. Because she knew that wave would come crashing down and drown her. And that single wave against all others frightened her the most because it threatened to cause upheaval on the calm surface of her life and become the cause of her ultimate demise.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me later if I missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr

#yandere namjoon #yandere bts #yandere rm #yandere ceo namjoon #yandere rm x reader #yandere bts x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere kim namjoon #yandere dom namjoon x innocent reader #yandere ceo namjoon x reader #yandere dom namjoon #allurement

[hermannsthumb]

you should totally do something with ksci janitor’s vamp newt it’s so just so good

i sure will! in a vampire mood this weekend. @k-sci-janitor's vampire newt found here. warnings for quick mention of drinking, allusions to sexy stuff, and also the different kind of drinking you'd expect from a vampire fic (tho on the vague side)

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

The circumstances that led Newt down the unwitting path of immortality and general un-dead-ness are, in hindsight, honestly kind of embarrassing. It'd be one thing if he could say it happened in the pursuit of, like, knowledge, like the fierce jellyfish sting scar on his wrist leftover from a research expedition when he was twenty-two or the equally fierce one on his knee received in response to his question (at the age of five) of what would happen if I jumped out of this very tall tree?, or even something unrelated to his extensive biology career, something impressive, y'know, Van Helsing style, something like tracking down some vampire king and barely escaping with his life (un-life?)—not what really happened, which was little more than a bad date. And not even the worst date that Newt's been on, if you can believe it.

Newt was young and stupid then. He still is young and stupid, technically, though the former by appearance only. (Eternally pushing thirty. If he could've picked, he would've done twenty-eight, just before his handful of grey hairs started cropping up. Newt's had almost forty-five years of staring in the mirror at those four fucking grey hairs. He gave up dyeing them around the nineties. Not worth it. Still annoying.) He liked to do what young and stupid people did, like get stupid tattoos, and have a stupid haircut, and get drunk at stupid punk shows and not stumble home until he'd had at least one regrettable hook-up with a stranger and maybe lost his wallet. (The two were often related.) That particular thing was what did him in that night. It was a different time back then, man—if a dude showed even the slightest inkling that he ran in Newt's sort of circle, if you caught his drift, Newt fucking jumped at the chance.

(The band was on their second set of the evening and Newt had already screamed himself hoarse with singing along. He'd ducked outside in a back alleyway for only a second to get some fresh air, the club suddenly too hot and smokey for him to handle, and was just about to go back inside and close out his tab for the night when he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone—he was sure—lurking in the shadows a few feet away. He could hear breathing. He could see—eyes, maybe, in the dim neon light of the bar sign overhead. "Hello?" he'd called.

"Have a light?" the person called back.

They emerged from the shadows, and Newt felt himself relax at once. It was some spooky-looking guy he remembered seeing in the club, leather jacket, boots heavier than Newt's, dark hair and eyeliner. Tall. Newt remembered him, firstly, because he thought he was hot, and secondly, because he swore he caught the guy staring at him at least three times, and to Newt, that was as good as any pick-up line. He was wagging an unlit cigarette at Newt now. He was taller than Newt thought he was back in the bar—much taller, at least a full head on Newt. His eyes were a golden-brown, almost yellow, like a cat's, and Newt found himself unable to tear his own away from them. "L—light?" Newt echoed.

The guy stuck the cigarette in his mouth and arched a perfect eyebrow. Newt didn't smoke, but he did keep a lighter on him for occasions like this. He fumbled through his pockets for it while the guy stepped closer. "I was watching you," he told Newt, while Newt raised the lighter to the cigarette, "in there."

The flame danced and glinted against his eyes. Newt swallowed. "Uh-huh?" he said.

He flicked the lighter shut, leaving them both bathed in nothing but pink neon. A hand slid up against the wall next to Newt's right shoulder. Another plucked at the left lapel of his jacket. Newt was still staring at those eyes. "What's your name?" the guy said, in a puff of cigarette smoke.

"Um." Newt's leather jacket was being pushed off his shoulders. He felt his long hair being tucked to the side of his neck. All at once something seemed in snap in Newt—some reminder of where he was, and what he came here hoping for in the first place. Some hot dude was eyeing Newt up all night long, and now he was actually coming onto Newt, and Newt was about to get laid. He grinned. "Newt," he said. "Just call me that. You were watching me, huh?"

"All night," the guy said.

Newt's jacket hit the ground with a soft thump. A knee was being pushed between his. Newt felt his cheeks heat up a little—he wasn't used to people being this forward with him, and especially not in a semi-public place like this. Usually they at least made a show of offering up their apartment first. "What, um, what for?" he said.

They were kissing. Newt was clinging to the back of his jacket. And then he was kissing Newt's neck, and then he was—

"That kinda hurts," Newt mumbled. "Um, dude, I think your—your fuckin', tongue piercing cut me, or something. It's—"

It was hard to keep his eyes open. His neck felt weird. The guy was into biting, apparently, biting really hard, and yikes, that was going to leave a super embarrassing hickey that Newt would have to explain to his students somehow on Monday, but it also felt really good, like, Newt was maybe getting off kinda good, and Newt thought, dizzily, that he should at least return the favor before he finished up and collapsed in a happy heap on the ground. So he did.

The guy pulled back with a hiss. "Ow. What—?"

Newt tasted something coppery in his mouth, and he panicked and swallowed on instinct. "Oh, shit, dude, I'm sorry," he slurred. His voice sounded like it was a million miles away. "I was trying to be—sexy. Um." There was blood on the guy's chin. He was staring at Newt in something akin to horror. Dark circles were spotting Newt's vision. "I think you cut your lip," he said, and then he passed out.

Newt was alone when he woke up. It was still dark, too. He walked the two miles home, collapsing in bed, fully-clothed, just before dawn, and he didn't wake up again until sunset. He forgot his jacket, but at least he remembered his wallet this time.)

So, anyway, Newt thinks he can be forgiven if he...embellishes stuff a little when, for the first time in his whole long life, he finally spills the details to someone. Also, no way is he admitting the truth to Hermann of all people.

"There were a bunch of murders in the area at the time," he says, while Hermann, angled on his side next to him in bed, watches him raptly. It's kind of weird pillow talk, but their pillow talk rarely isn't weird. Usually Hermann will launch into a critique of Newt's latest pet theory before Newt's even caught his breath. At least he very courteously waited for Newt get a glass of water from the bathroom first this time. "Really brutal ones. Like, throats torn out, blood drained. Really nasty shit. Everyone was saying they were some kinda bizarre wolf pack attacks, but I knew better."

"Of course you did," Hermann says, running his hand down Newt's chest, and Newt can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. (He has a feeling he is.)

"You bet," Newt says. "It took me months of, um, super hard research. Finally I hunted him down to this—" Newt debates the coolest lair possible of a vampire, and then remembers Lost Boys, which, even though he resents it slightly for totally stealing the vampire vibes he was going for, is still a kick-ass movie. "—this weird cave, where he lived. The king of the vampires. I won, obviously, but he fought back, and he managed to infect me just before I hammered the, um, the wooden stake into his heart."

"So courageous," Hermann says. He reaches up and tucks a piece of Newt's long hair back. Hermann being totally cool with the whole vampire thing, and maybe even possibly into the whole vampire thing, is probably the last thing in the world Newt expected from him. They're no strangers to hooking up during long late nights of science, but Newt swears it's gotten more frequent. "You must've been terrified."

"Nah," Newt says, though he remembers the glint of the flame off those yellow eyes, and he shivers. Hermann notices; his eyes, not yellow, but a warm shade of brown that makes Newt feel like he's being wrapped in a blanket, soften. If Newt could still blush, he would. "I'm—um—I'm pretty brave."

Newt hadn't exactly been planning on telling Hermann about the whole thing, but (last week) he had the very unfortunate timing of beginning a late-night dinner just as an oblivious Hermann strolled back into the lab to pick up his forgotten pair of glasses. To his credit, he only freaked out a little when he saw Newt draining a blood bag like a fucking Capri-Sun, and even then (after what felt like ten years of horrible, horrible silence) all he said was "You're the one who's been stealing those from medical?"

Look. Newt hasn't drank from a human being the entirety of his un-life, and he doesn't plan on it any time soon. He's...a vegetarian. Effectively. It's sort of the reason he picked up a medical degree along the way once he got tired of breaking into blood banks. Even if it's still a little ethically dubious to steal blood like that, at least he's not swooping around on unsuspecting people like that—goth asshole who swooped in on him did. (Newt's never managed to find out who he was—he suspects he was some sort of vampire drifter in town that night just to find a victim. And Newt just had to think with his dick at the worst possible time.)

Hermann tucks another strand of Newt's hair back. Newt also did not expect how fast Hermann became cool with the whole thing, but on the other hand, giant aliens are clawing their way out of the ocean on a bi-monthly basis these days. It's hard to be skeptical about most things. ("Well, it does make logical sense," Hermann had said with an eyeroll. "When you consider some of your rather more bizarre quirks, I mean. I ought to have guessed it ages ago. I suppose that's why you have that awful haircut," and that stung, because yeah, Newt hasn't felt like changing it up since the seventies, and why should he, it kinda rules? but he just laughed it off and said, "You're one to fucking talk, dude!") "Newton," Hermann says now, gently, "what actually happened?"

Newt sighs. Hermann always knows when he's lying about shit. "I was making out with a vampire in an alleyway and then he bit me. And—um—I kinda didn't notice at first, 'cause it felt... good."

"Mm," Hermann says. The corner of his mouth twitches up. "That's more along the lines of what I expected. That, or you were hounding him for details like a proper biologist and he got tired of answering your inane questions."

"Very funny," Newt says. "Ha."

Hermann rolls away from him and stretches his arms above his head. Newt watches his throat work as he yawns, swallowing down a sudden lump in his own, and he feels a surge of something hot and—alien—in the pit of his stomach. "Over forty years," Hermann says. He picks up Newt's discarded sweatshirt from the floor and tugs it down over his head. "You must get terrifically lonely."

Newt half-shrugs. "I guess. I'm kinda used to it by now." His dad (who never brought up how Newt's aging seemed to be at a standstill when they saw each other, not once) is long-gone. Newt's tried dating, but no one's ever seemed to be into it as much as he is—and besides, it's not like he could ever do the actual til death do us part thing unless he went against every ethical bone in his body and made someone like him. When the internet became a thing, he considered making a forum or something to find more of his kind, but the thought everyone just being like the guy who accidentally turned him in the first place terrified him and he killed the page before it even left infancy. So, without any better ideas, Newt forged some paperwork and leaned pretty hard into the world of academia to fill up his sad little hole of a heart, resigned himself to casual flings with anyone who seemed interested, and it mostly worked. Mostly. And then the kaiju came along, and then so did... "You make it a little bit better," he confesses.

Hermann lays back down next to him. "I do?" he says.

Newt thinks he sees something like that hot, hungry feeling he felt in his stomach flash behind Hermann's eyes. He nods.

Hermann suddenly kisses Newt, pulling him down on top of him, and then tugs the collar of Newt's stolen sweatshirt down below his collarbone. He drags Newt's hand up to press against his throat. Newt feels the erratic beat of Hermann's pulse beneath his fingertips, his heart pounding against his ribcage (pressed up against Newt's silent one), and he almost moans. "Have you ever...?" Hermann murmurs, gazing up at Newt through his dark eyelashes.

"N—never," Newt stammers. "I told you."

"Do you want to?" Hermann says. Newt tries not to gape. "Just a bit at a time, whenever you need. You wouldn't have to steal those silly blood bags anymore. And—" He hesitates. "I admit I am curious. About the sensation."

"Um," Newt says. "I—"

He feels something sharp poking his lower lip. Fangs. His fangs. Oh, shit, he's never had that happen before. He forces himself off of Hermann before he does something stupid.

"Maybe, um, maybe later?" he squeaks, while Hermann just smiles at him.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag