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#but look at how long I already spent on this
marvelfilth · 23 hours
Text
Tattoo
Pairing: Jenna Ortega x f!reader
Warnings: drunk jenna ig
Summary: an unexpected visitor makes your evening unforgettable
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You sigh as Judy, the girl who's back you've spent the past hours tattooing, disappears out the door and into the darkened street, her happy skips illuminated by the soft yellow hue of the street lamps. You don't know how she managed to sit or, rather, lay through the session, happily blubbering about her three cats and a dog waiting for her back home.
You shake your head and walk up to the small desk near the entrance. Amelia, the receptionist, has left just as the sun started to set, blowing you a kiss goodbye and thanking you for letting her out early, so you've been stuck managing your studio alone.
Looking at tomorrow's schedule you sink into the soft leather chair, relieved to see that your morning is free. You can already imagine how sweet it'll be to finally sleep in and have a relaxing start of the day.
Your daydreaming is cut short when the door opens again, and you open your mouth to ask if Judy forgot something, but snap it back shut when you realize it's not her.
You get up, walk around the desk and take a second to look at the stranger, who, inconveniently, turned her back to you.
Still, you admit, it's a nice back, clad in a soft looking black blouse tucked into dark jeans. Your drum your fingers on the desk and pointedly clear your throat, but the stranger doesn't pay you any attention. Instead she takes a few steps to look at the wall littered with various photos of your happy clients, and humms to herself.
"Sorry, we're closed," you speak softly, as not to startle her, but she still jumps comically high, one hand clutching her purse and the other flying up to rest over her heart.
She turns around, swaying, and squints at you, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed in thought. You grip the desk behind you when you recognise her.
Amelia will die when she finds out who she so narrowly missed.
"D-do you know how to use this?" Her voice is hoarse, like she spent hours screaming at the top of her lungs, and her finger trembles when she points it at your tattoo machine.
She grins at your hesitant nod, stumbling as she closes spaces between you. "I want a dragon," she giggles, covering her mouth with her palm as if she's letting you in on a secret. "All over my back. A huge one."
You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing when she gets close enough for you to smell the alcohol on her breath.
"You're drunk and we're closed," you say and her eyes dart down to look at your lips.
"What?" She mutters, and her hands go up to hold your cheeks. "Stop moving so much, I can't hear you." She pouts, still looking at your lips.
You snort and take her hands in yours, prying your face out of her grip. She shakes her head, and winces when the movement causes her to sway again.
You wait for her to look at you before you speak again.
"Are you here alone?" You make sure to say as clearly and slowly as possible, holding her hands to make sure she doesn't trip over her own legs.
She sighs and looks up to the ceiling. "Yes."
You tug at her hands. "You need to call someone to come pick you up."
She blinks and looks at you for a long moment, her eyes cloudy and pupils dilated. "No. I need a dragon," she insists.
You bite back a smile and lead her behind the desk. She falls in the chair with a content sigh, closing her eyes. "Melissa dared me to. I c-can't come back without a dragon," she mumbles.
You lean back against the desk, this time not able to suppress a chuckle. She opens one eye and kicks at your shin with her foot. "This is serious."
"I'm sure it is," you agree to appease the frowning girl. "You can come back when you're sober, and I promise you'll get that huge dragon all over your back."
You smile when she nods and reaches for one of the business cards laying in the corner. She slips it into her back pocket and fully relaxes in the seat, and you're suddenly at loss of what to do next.
Someone's supposed to be looking for her, right?
You turn to look out the window at the dark street, noting the lack of cars.
"You're pretty," she murmurs. "Like… I want to take a picture of you and put it as my lockscreen kind of pretty."
You snort, looking at the girl who's now staring up at you in awe. "Do you always put pictures of strangers as your lockscreen?"
She frowns. Her lips move, but nothing comes out.
You sigh, shaking your head, and get up to find your phone. You need to call Amelia, she will know what to do.
"I'm getting sleepy."
You pause. "You can't fall asleep."
"Mhm," she hums as her eyes close.
You close the space between you in short strides, but you're not fast enough. She's already snoring lightly when you reach her, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"Great," you groan. “Just perfect.”
You fidget with your phone, unsure. Should you call Amelia? She will probably freak before figuring what to do with the sleeping girl.
With a sigh, you unlock your phone. It's not like you have any other options.
Just when you're about to press the call button, the girl slides off the chair, her butt hitting the floor with a quiet thud. You wince as the chair rolls away and her back meets the floor before you can catch her.
She doesn't wake. In fact, she curls up, hands pillowed under her head, and sighs in content. You snort, shaking your head. The sight is quite adorable.
“It- it would take-” she mumbles, deep in her sleep, “-a second to peel off the skin…” You gulp, before realizing she's probably dreaming about one of her characters, or practicing the script even in her sleep, either way it's quite impressive. “Limp for limb…" she mutters, frowning.
You sigh, and get a small pillow to tuck it under her head. Might as well make her a little comfortable while you figure out what to do with her.
“Um, hello?”
You jump up, praying that the girl is well hidden behind the desk, she is as small as a gremlin after all.
“Yes?” You turn around, only to be left gaping.
You're in the twilight zone, you're sure.
“I'm looking for my friend,” the woman smiles hesitantly, adjusting the hood of her sweatshirt. “A brunette, brown eyes, about this” - she lowers her hand all the way to her knees - “tall, a bit drunk. She ran away to get a tattoo.”
You shift on your feet, your mouth opening and closing while you try to come up with something to explain why her friend is currently sleeping under your desk.
“Yeah, she's here…” you mumble, jerking your head towards the reception desk. She frowns, stepping around it, and stills, before looking at you with wide eyes. “It just… happened.”
“She tried to kill me,” the sleeping girl says, very clearly.
“Really?” The older woman's eyebrow raises.
“No!” You yelp, looking at the smaller girl in betrayal. She didn't deserve that pillow. “She came in very drunk, and she fell asleep in my chair, and then she kind of… slid off?”
“Used… chloroform,” she mumbles, turning to the other side.
“Stop it,” you hiss to her sleeping form. “Shut up.” You lightly kick her leg with your toe to make sure she listens.
“Pretty,” she sighs dreamily, “pretty girl…”
“I take it you're the pretty girl?” The other woman asks with a heavy sigh.
You blush, nodding. “Not a serial killer, promise.”
She purses her lips, looking down at her friend. “She won't wake up now. She sleeps like a bear when she's drunk.” She looks up at you, eyes searching. “I’m Melissa, by the way. And that one is Jenna. But you already know who she is, right?”
You nod.
“Okay. Since there are no paparazzi around, I feel like I can trust you. For now.” She bends down, takes the sleeping girl under her arms, and lifts her up with little effort. “You get the legs,” she smirks.
You get Jenna out of your studio quickly and efficiently, like you've been doing it all your life.
“Getting rid… of the body,” she mumbles, when Melissa miscalculates and hits the side of Jenna's head against the headrest.
“Yeah,” the older woman cringes, “she's always like that.”
You nod, stepping away from the car as Melissa straightens her clothes, looking sheepish and hesitant.
“Thank you,” she says, “I really appreciate this. And she will, too, when she returns to the land of the living.”
You chuckle and bid her goodbye, waving at the car until it disappears from sight.
You decide you won't tell Amelia about this. She'll probably send you off for a psychic evaluation if you do.
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rosyblooom · 19 hours
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right person, wrong times | cl16
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: a random day each year across 11 years, as they go from practically strangers, to more, to less, and again. (~4.3k) a/n: inspo from 'one day' !! been struggling with writer's block, so sorry in advance if it's rough lool
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
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One day in 2018
Y/N glanced across the crowded room, picking out one familiar face amidst the sea of strangers: Pascale. Their families went way back, but with Y/N's parents splitting when she was just a toddler, she'd spent most of her life in Spain with her dad, Switzerland for boarding school, and rare trips to Monaco to visit her mum—hardly ever crossing paths with the Leclerc's.
But today was different. She found herself in Monaco attending a family gathering to finally meet Pascale's sons properly. She couldn't recall the last time she'd spoken to them, but Pascale had insisted today would be the day, especially since her recent move here.
Across the room, Charles stood, his posture slightly hunched as his mother whispered in his ear, urging him to check on Y/N. "Please go see how Y/N is doing. I'm not sure if she'll remember you, but just introduce yourself and keep her company for a while," Pascale pleaded, fixing him with a hopeful gaze. "Please."
"I don’t even know where she is or what she looks like."
"She's at the bar," Pascale replied with a smile. "She's the pretty one—you won't miss her."
"Very helpful," Charles chuckled, shaking his head before stepping back. "I'll make my way over now."
It didn't take long until he found himself at the bar. Surprisingly, his mother's brief description proved accurate, as Y/N stood out for her beauty—quite a departure from the faint memory he held of her.
Drawing closer, he flashed a warm smile and extended his hand in greeting. "Charles."
Y/N shot him a quick, assessing glance, her eyes flitting over his unruly hair and black attire, before meeting his gaze. "Not interested," she dismissed, her attention already wandering back to the room.
Chuckling at her abruptness, Charles shook his head. "No, no, I wasn't trying to... I'm not here to make a move, I wouldn't."
Y/N turned towards him, her curiosity piqued by his response. "Ouch," she teased, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "So you think I'm ugly, then?" Her lips curved slightly as she awaited his answer.
Heat crept up Charles’ neck, and though he couldn’t see himself, he could sense the warmth spreading across his face. With a nervous stammer, he began, “Wait, no! That’s not what I meant—What I’m trying to say is—”
“Relax,” Y/N interjected with a sympathetic smile. “I’m just kidding. Nice to see you again, Leclerc. It’s been a while, huh?”
Charles let out a long breath, his tension easing slightly. For a moment, he studied Y/N with a discerning gaze, as if attempting to unravel her mystery; she was undeniably peculiar, yet undeniably intriguing. “It has been a while,” he finally acknowledged, nodding slowly.
One day in 2019
This marked Y/N’s first ever Christmas market in Monaco. She had wanted to attend last year’s, but the winter season had always been her least favourite. This time last year, it was simply too cold for her—no matter what the news claimed, she was freezing. But today wasn’t half as bad. Sure, she was bundled up in about three sweaters under her hoodie, which she wore beneath her jacket, but well, you could say she was sensitive to weather.
“Y/N?” a voice suddenly erupted from behind her, pulling her attention away from the gigantic, decorated Christmas tree and towards Charles, who now stood before her, holding two steaming mugs.
Y/N narrowed her gaze, appearing lost in thought. “Sorry, do I know you?”
Charles shook his head and sighed, his breath forming a white cloud in the chilly air. “Right, of course. It’s been a year, so it makes sense for you not to remember me…”
“I'm just joking,” Y/N grinned, nudging him cautiously to avoid any spills. “You’re too easy.”
Charles’ mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes widening for a moment before he chuckled, “Okay, I’m not going to believe anything you say from now on.”
"Good idea," she nodded with a smile. Y/N's gaze then drifted down to the two mugs in his hands, and she inquired, "Am I right to assume that one of these is for me?"
A puzzled expression briefly crossed Charles' face, his brows furrowing slightly, prompting Y/N to gesture towards the cups.
As if suddenly remembering, he exclaimed, "Oh, right! I thought you might want something warm, and who doesn't like hot chocolate, right?" With that, he offered one of the drinks to her.
"I sure do." Y/N took the cup, cupping her cold hands around the hot glass, immediately feeling the stiffness melt away from her fingers. The hot chocolate wasn't nearly as scalding as she had anticipated—it was just right, and she savoured each sip, briefly closing her eyes in contentment. When she reopened them, she couldn't help but remark, "Sweet, just like you."
As if someone had turned on a gas stove, heat rushed to Charles' face, though this time he was fortunate; the weather was already giving him a rosy complexion due to the cold.
But Y/N still noticed, and she smiled. "Don't go getting soft on me now," she teased, bumping her elbow into his arm.
Without really thinking, Charles muttered, "You're not making it easy…" His words slipped out, and with their proximity, Y/N heard him loud and clear. Even though it wasn't the first time she'd heard a comment like that, the fact that it came from Charles sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
"What was that?" Arching a brow, Y/N glanced up at him sideways, a playful glint in her eyes.
"Nothing… Do you want to get inside though? It’s a little too cold for me."
“It’s my first time here,” Y/N said, hooking her arm around his, ignoring the sudden tension in his muscles. “Don’t want to get lost,” she explained, glancing up at Charles, who didn’t object and instead simply nodded. “Right, yeah.”
“So? Lead the way then.”
“Alright, alright,” Charles obliged, skilfully manoeuvring through the crowd, with Y/N beside him.
One day in 2020
“Is this seat taken?” The question caused Y/N to freeze, her forkful of ratatouille dropping onto her plate. She swallowed the remaining food in her mouth and swiftly swept the napkin off her lap, dabbing the corners of her mouth until she was sure there were no traces left.
“Not at all,” she finally responded, turning towards the voice. “I should warn you though—” But the moment her eyes met the familiar pair of Charles’ blue ones, she stopped mid-sentence.
For a brief moment, it seemed as if the rest of the table didn’t exist, as neither of them spoke, both too captivated by the other's presence. With a crooked smile, Charles broke the silence. “You were going to warn me about something?”
Y/N couldn't quite explain why, but the sight of his smile immediately lifted the corners of her mouth, while her stomach somersaulted with a flurry of emotions. She pushed aside the sensation and simply laughed, resting her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands. “Just forget it,” she mumbled against her palms, loud enough for Charles to hear.
A gentle breeze wafted over her, carrying a familiar, clean scent of laundry detergent that Y/N had come to associate with Charles. Somehow, it immediately calmed the strange fluttering in her stomach, prompting her to lift her gaze again.
“Hi,” she finally greeted with a smile, reaching for the glass of wine on the table.
“Hey,” Charles nodded, settling back in his seat.
They lingered like this for a while, Y/N's gaze fixed on the side of his face while Charles casually surveyed the room, exchanging greetings with a few acquaintances. Squinting slightly, Y/N blurted out, “Are you stalking me?”
Charles burst into laughter, quickly composing himself and leaning towards her. “In my family's house?” he countered.
Y/N nodded in satisfaction as she took a sip from her drink. “Excellent point,” she conceded.
Gently settling the glass down, she redirected her attention to the untouched forkful of food and remarked, “Can I just say, you have to try this, it's so good.” She gestured towards her barely touched plate. “I don’t know what Pascale put in this, but this is the best ratatouille I’ve ever tasted.” Y/N grabbed her fork and extended it towards him, but noticing Charles freeze, she quickly swallowed her words, saying, “Oh, sorry, I know some people are a little iffy with sharing—”
Before she could retract the fork, Charles' warm hands suddenly enclosed around hers, halting her movement as he guided the fork towards his mouth, taking a bite, and nodding at her with a smile. “It’s been my favourite since I was a little kid.”
Y/N whispered softly, her voice barely above a murmur, yet close enough for them to hear each other perfectly. "A man of taste huh?" Her gaze drifted from his eyes down to where his hand still lingered around hers, now tracing soft circles across her skin.
Charles followed Y/N’s line of sight, quickly clearing his throat when he realised what he was doing. He withdrew his hand, causing both to avert their eyes, suddenly finding interest in everything but each other.
The last thing Charles wanted was to make Y/N uncomfortable, and as for her, she simply didn’t want to blow things out of proportion—see something where there was nothing. For all she knew, Charles was like that with all his friends.
A few moments passed, filled with surrounding chatter, before they both spoke up at the same time.
“Do you want to go—"
“So, do you have any other—"
Laughter erupted between them before Y/N smirked, “Because I’m a lady, you first.”
“How kind of you,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Are you free next week? We could maybe grab lunch or something.” Before she could respond, he added, scratching his neck, “I would offer to cook, but unfortunately, cooking skills don’t get genetically passed down.”
Ignoring the beat Y/N was sure her heart had just skipped, she simply smiled and leaned forward, chin propped on her hand. “You mean a date?”
“Only if that’s what you want.”
Her rapid nods confirmed everything before her words even formed. However, just as Charles’ lips broke into a broad grin, Y/N’s expression suddenly fell as she remembered, “Wait, no, I can’t. I’m travelling to Spain tomorrow to visit my dad. And then after that, I’ll start my internship in New York City.”
Charles sank back into his chair, though his face didn’t betray the disappointment he felt. “I see,” he sighed.
“Rain check?” Y/N asked. She wanted a date with him, to see if they’d hit it off on that level. The only problem was the timing, but she knew her feelings didn’t fade quickly. If they had to wait, then so be it. She was ready to do so. Laughing, Y/N added, “Seriously, I still want that date.”
“Rain check it is,” Charles nodded. “Congrats on the internship though, that’s amazing. Maybe I can come visit, and we’ll—”
The sudden clanking of glass interrupted him, causing both to turn their attention to the woman standing at the end of the long table.
Without breaking eye contact with the woman, Y/N leaned in closer to Charles, her lips accidentally grazing his as his gaze fleetingly dropped to her lips before he refocused on the woman, who had now dropped her glass onto the table.
Y/N whispered into his ear, to which Charles simply nodded, suppressing the sudden surge of desire coursing through his veins.
One day in 2021
Y/N walked through the Paddock with a sense of detachment, like a deer caught in headlights. The US Grand Prix had come to an end, and Max Verstappen had emerged as the victor. It wasn’t exactly what she had hoped for, but she didn’t feel any strong emotions about it. What occupied her thoughts, however, was the meeting spot she had arranged with Carlos.
Pausing in her step, she pulled out her phone, deciding to cut straight to the chase and call him directly. The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity until the sound was abruptly cut off by a long beep, indicating his automated voicemail.
“Not even personalised,” she scoffed, hanging up, tossing her phone into her bag, and continuing, resigned to the idea of either wandering aimlessly forever or eventually finding Carlos.
However, she didn’t get far before colliding with someone. She stumbled backward a bit before regaining her balance, and as she looked up, her eyes widened in recognition.
Charles stood opposite her, his expression shifting from shock to a warm smile, though his eyebrows remained slightly furrowed. “Hi,” he breathed, the warmth of his breath reaching and spreading across Y/N’s face. “You’re… here.”
Y/N’s gaze swept over his tousled hair, a few strands sticking to his forehead adorned with tiny beads of sweat, some trailing down the sides of his slightly flushed face. “You’re sweaty. Very sweaty,” she blurted out, immediately regretting her awkward observation. But it had been a year since their last exchange, so it was understandable that things felt a bit awkward between them.
A few chuckles escaped Charles, immediately bringing a smile to Y/N’s face. “Thanks, I didn’t notice."
She exhaled a laugh, and then Charles added, “Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” Shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun with his hand, he squinted at her. “Can I ask though, was this meant to be a surprise or something?”
“Ah, Charles, you’ve met my friend, Y/N,” Carlos interrupted from behind as he came to a stop beside her.
Y/N smiled awkwardly. “Uhm... Carlos actually invited me, so that's why I'm here."
“You two know each other?” Charles inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
“My dad lives in Spain, remember?” Y/N reminded him, shrugging. “Our families are pretty close.”
“Right…” Charles nodded, though he couldn’t shake off the slight hint of disbelief in his voice. After all, he knew Carlos was dating someone already, so he wasn’t sure why he felt that way. And as for Y/N, she was free to do as she pleased. After all, that date they had talked about last year never even happened. They had no history, no reason for him to feel jealous.
But he did anyway.
Wanting to diffuse the sudden tension settling between the three of them, Y/N exclaimed, “But it’s good to see you again. And you did really well. Congrats on P4, seriously.”
Charles smiled, and for the first time today, it was genuine. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with P4; he had wanted a podium finish and had come close to it. But for some reason, if she was happy, so was he.
“Thanks—” His smile faltered when an arm snaked around his torso, his girlfriend Amélie taking her place beside him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Without wasting a second, his gaze shifted to Y/N, just in time to catch the way her eyes widened before she swallowed, her expression now impassive.
Shock and confusion swirled through Y/N’s body. She hadn’t expected Charles to have a girlfriend, so when she felt her heart crack slightly, it made sense. But she wasn’t going to show it—at least, not purposely she wasn’t.
Charles furrowed his brows as he regarded the girl standing in front of him. A pang of guilt nagged at him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why: they were never anything more than friends. And judging by the way neither of them had kept up with one another, you could barely even call it that.
Maybe they were more like strangers with a couple of good memories and unfulfilled promises?
“You alright, mate?” asked Carlos, pulling Charles out of his reverie.
Clearing his throat, Charles replied, “Yeah, yeah... Uhm Amélie, this is Y/N, my… friend.” The word came out almost as a question, but he pressed on. “Y/N, meet Amélie, my girlfriend.”
Charles wasn’t sure what he expected, but Y/N’s cheerfulness was definitely not it. “Hey,” she smiled and waved.
Slowly, tensions began to dissipate as all four of them became engrossed in conversation—though in reality, it was more like three. Y/N found herself too preoccupied with the realisation that Charles had a girlfriend now. It was a simple fact, yet it carried a weight: it meant he hadn't spent the year turning down people left and right, like she had, in hopes of a maybe.
One day in 2022
"Y/N, thank God you’re here!" Amélie's voice echoed the moment Y/N stepped into the living room, causing her to freeze in her tracks. "Uh, hey?" she replied, her eyes scanning the partly decorated room before settling on Charles, who sent her a small wave.
She raised her brows and forced a smile, though it faltered quickly—she and Charles had grown apart. Truthfully, Y/N had contemplated not showing up today; faking an illness or something and making sure to stay at home for a few days—Monaco was too small to risk being accidentally spotted.
But she came.
She came because Charles called.
Two days ago, he had called her in the middle of the night, asking if she was planning to fake being sick to avoid seeing him. And he was right—exactly what Y/N had been contemplating. So, when her first phone call with Charles in two years challenged the very idea in her mind that they had grown apart, it confused her. After all, she was sure she was a blank page now, yet he still seemed to be able to read her.
Snapping out of her daze, Y/N watched as Amélie paced erratically, her brows furrowing with every step. "What's going on with her?" Y/N asked, turning to Charles for an explanation.
He chuckled, approaching her. "It's the cake," he explained. "Amélie ordered it, but now it needs to be picked up sooner than planned because they're closing earlier than usual for some reason. So, now we have a problem, obviously."
"Why don't you just go pick it up?" Y/N leaned into him, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes still fixed on Amélie, who was now engaged in a fervent phone call.
"Apparently, I'm too clumsy."
"You are."
Charles chuckled, but his laughter was cut short when Amélie suddenly gasped, her eyes darting between Y/N and him as she rushed towards them. “Okay, guys, everyone will be here soon. If I stay and finish all this off, you two can quickly go collect the cake. So, if one person drives and the other holds it really tightly, that should work, right?”
“Sounds good,” Y/N chimed in.
“I agree,” Charles added.
“Alright,” Amélie beckoned them out of the living room and towards the front door. “Go on.”
“I love you,” Amélie said, leaning in for a kiss. But as she moved closer, Charles instinctively turned his head, causing her lips to land on his cheek instead of his mouth. His gaze had shifted to Y/N, who stood in the front yard, seemingly fixated on the grass.
“Yeah... love you,” he muttered absentmindedly, his attention still captivated by the girl just a few feet away from him.
Normally, Charles had no issue displaying affection for his girlfriend in front of others, but Y/N made it difficult. Whenever she was around—whether at family gatherings, parties, or Grand Prix events—his eyes always seemed to gravitate towards her.
“Please, don’t take too long!” Amélie shouted as the door slammed shut.
Amidst the occasional chirping of birds, a palpable silence settled between them. Y/N stared into the distance, while Charles observed her from the corner of his eye, noticing subtle changes since their last encounter. Her hair, for instance, was slightly shorter—a minor detail, yet one he couldn't help but notice.
With a loud clap, Charles gestured towards his car, parked discreetly to the side. “That way.”
Following his lead, Y/N entered through the passenger seat. However, as the car sprang to life and its dashboard lights flickered on, Charles let out a frustrated groan.
“What's wrong?” Y/N inquired.
Charles shook his head for a moment, muttering, “I told him to fill up the gas…”
“Oh,” Y/N exhaled, resting her head against the soft leather headrest. “So, what now?”
Charles' eyes lit up with excitement as he sat up eagerly, turning to face her. "We've got some old bikes in the shed, so if you want to—"
"You want us to ride rusty old bikes, while carrying a cake?" Y/N interjected, her serious expression quickly giving way to laughter.
"...Yeah?"
Y/N narrowed her gaze, appraising Charles for a moment before rolling her eyes and pushing the door open. "This is so going to backfire. I can't believe I'm doing this."
Charles couldn't help but smile as he watched Y/N exit the car. He had a feeling she wouldn't turn this idea down, and he was glad he was right. It meant that despite the years, things hadn't changed too much between them. She was still the same Y/N he knew, and he hoped he was still the Charles she was willing to have a date with.
"Don't tell me I'm going to have to do this by myself now. You coming or what?" Her yell pierced through the car, prompting him to jump out and hurry towards the shed.
By the time he finally reached the shed, Y/N had already claimed a bike—and surprisingly, it was his. Charles used to guard that bike fiercely when he was younger, not allowing anyone, not even for a few minutes. But now, as he watched her mount it, he felt no trace of that possessiveness, not even a hint.
Perhaps it was because he had outgrown that childish behaviour, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, he couldn't deny the genuine happiness that bubbled up within him at the sight.
Now, if it were Amélie riding his bike at that moment, he wasn't quite sure he would feel the same way.
“Race you to the bakery?” Y/N grinned mischievously.
A wide smile immediately spread across Charles' face. “Sure, once I get my hands on a bike.”
“No,” she retorted, already starting to pedal. “You snooze, you lose.”
Racing to grab Lorenzo’s bike, Charles jumped on it, yelling, “Cheater!”
When he finally caught up to her, Y/N was no longer riding her bike but pulling it alongside her, causing him to slow down beside her. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you riding?” One corner of his mouth curled upward as he fixed her with a knowing look, coming to a full stop. “Oh, did you finally realise that cheating isn’t the way to go?”
“Says you,” Y/N retorted, though her chuckles rang loud and clear as Charles fell into step with her.
“Anyway,” she pointed down at her bike, “the chain’s come loose. So yeah, I was right, this was a bad idea, and Amélie is going to kill us, and poor Pascale won’t have a birthday cake.”
“Wow, don’t be too optimistic now,” Charles teased, earning an elbow to his side. “We’re not too far from the bakery now, so I say let’s not worry until we get to the ‘how do we get back home in time’ part. What do you say?”
Y/N turned to Charles, her eyes lingering on his features longer than necessary. “Okay,” she finally nodded, “sounds like a plan.”
But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. In the time she spent gazing at Charles, he had been doing the same, unwilling to move on from that moment quite as quickly as she had.
Stopping in his steps, Y/N continued a few more feet before finally noticing his hesitation and halting her movements, turning back. “Do you want Amélie to murder us?” she joked, but her humour faded when she saw Charles’ serious expression remain unchanged.
“Okay, what’s the matter—”
Charles cut her off with a sigh. “Why don’t we talk anymore, Y/N?”
“What do you mean? We’re talking right now.”
“Come on, seriously,” Charles walked up beside her.
Y/N just shrugged, her mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert. “I don’t know…”
“Well, I don't either, so can we please just start over then?” Charles proposed, his tone tired of the tension and the walking on eggshells. It was too much when all he wanted was to be close to her, to laugh like they used to before everything went haywire.
Y/N looked off to the side, musing over his words for a moment, before meeting his gaze again with a small smile. “Okay, fine, I guess.”
“Wow, you seem really excited,” Charles remarked, flashing a wide grin.
“I really do, don't I? Now, if you don’t mind,” Y/N started walking again, “I really do not feel like being killed today, so let’s fucking go.”
“Alright, alright, I’m coming.”
2:31 ──────ㅇ────── 4:45
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catmiemy · 24 hours
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Another Chance to Live Part 1 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)
Summary: Ana and you are both struggling with unwanted transfers, but maybe you can at least find happiness off the pitch.
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A/N: This is the first part of a story I've been working on for a while. I guess my way of processing my emotions about Ana's transfer. I've been in the denial stage for a long time 😅
The next two chapters are already written (just need to edit them) and so far it's a total of about 13k words. I'm now at a crossroad which will decide how long the story becomes. So I thought I'd publish the first part and see how much interest there is in a story like this to help me decide.
It felt like a cruel joke of the universe that now, now when you had been forced to leave, the woman you’ve had a crush on for years, joined your team, or well your former team. Words that made your heart crack a little more every time you thought them. Never in a billion years had you expected your team to become your former team.
Ever since you had first laid eyes on Ana you had been dazzled by her, not necessarily only by her looks, although you definitely enjoyed them, but also by her personality and her aura. She always radiated so much kindness and positive energy. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.
Sadly your paths didn’t cross all too often and when they did, Ana was always somewhere in the heart of whatever group you were part of, while you were lingering on the edges, looking in. So the Swiss woman was probably only vaguely aware of your existence, while you soaked up every detail you could find about Ana. The more you learnt, the more you liked her.
 And yes, sometimes when you lay in bed at night you made up little scenarios how the two of you would meet. One of your favorite ones was Ana coming to Atleti, not really knowing her way around Madrid yet, so you take her under your wing and show her everything. And of course she starts falling for you as you spend so much time together. It was your imagination after all, so you could day dream all you wanted.
Now part of this little fantasy was actually coming true, Ana really was joining Atlético, and it frustrated you to no end that now that she came, you were gone.  Although perhaps it wasn’t the universe being cruel towards you, maybe it was protecting you because even if you played for the same team there was no way the Swiss woman would ever go for someone like you.
Still, you spent a good amount of time fuming about it in your apartment. Possibly also because it was easier to focus on that rather than on the fact that your childhood club had just dropped you like you meant nothing.  Every time you remembered the conversation with the club’s managers you felt like throwing up, hiding under the covers for the rest of your life, and ripping off your ears so you didn’t have to listen to one more word from them. So yeah, it was comforting in a weird way to think about your missed chance with Ana, especially since it never had been much of a chance anyway.
It was harder to hold on to that strange comfort when training actually started and you had to go to Real Madrid’s training center every day. Most days were spent attempting to do your best and keep your negative emotions in check, while thinking nonstop about how much you hated this, how much you wanted to return to Atelti, how much you wanted to leave Madrid altogether.
So all in all you weren’t having the best time, barely getting by was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Then a few weeks after the season started you got a call from Lola.
“Sooo I heard you’re doing a lot of moping these days,” she teased you.
However there was an underlying note of worry in her voice. You had done your best to pretend as if Atleti’s decision hadn’t hurt you, that these things happen in football, and you were completely fine with it, but Lola had seen right through it.
“I’m not moping, I’m just quiet and focused like usual,” you quickly defended yourself. It was only partially true, you hated every single second you spent at the training center of Real Madrid.
“That’s not what I’ve heard, but how about you convince me over a cup of coffee. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”
You didn’t even question how Lola knew that you had the day off tomorrow, apparently she had some spies at Real. As much as you didn’t want to continue talking about the misery that was your new club, you did want to see your friend, so you agreed.
“I might ask some other people if they want to tag along. Everyone misses you,” Lola continued, making you happy and sad at the same time. It was nice to be missed, but you wished you weren’t in a position where you could be missed.
Before you could hang up, Lola told you to bring “your moping buddy Misa”, then she ended the call with a cackle, not giving you any chance to retaliate. In all honesty there was some truth to it, both you and Misa were unhappy at Real, so it wasn’t surprising that she was the only person you had really bonded with so far.
Going by Lola’s words you expected a big group the next day when you entered the café you had agreed upon. What you found however were merely three people, Lola, Misa and no one other than Ana.
Suddenly your stomach was filled with butterflies flapping their wings wildly, making you somewhat nauseous as a result. You hadn’t expected this and you weren’t prepared for it at all. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude you would have walked right back out of the café.
Instead you walked over to the small group, doing your best impression of a friendly smile. You could have sworn you saw a knowing glint in both Misa’s and Lola’s eyes. There was no way they knew about your crush though, right?
Lola jumped up when she saw you, hugging you tightly. “It’s good to see you, chica, I’ve missed you,” she told you.
You had to blink a couple of times to chase away the tears burning in your eyes. There was no denying that you had missed her too, all of your former teammates really. You longed to be back at Atlético, and not only because Ana was there.
Right, Ana.
You extracted yourself from your friend and smiled at the blonde. Should you hug her as well? Or greet her with kisses on the cheeks? That’s exactly why you should have been informed that Ana would be there, so that you could think this over beforehand. Or, well, over think it.
Unlike you Ana knew exactly what to do; she got up, greeted you kindly and gave you a quick hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We’ve never had much of a chance to talk, so I’m glad we get one now.”
For a few seconds too long you started at her. You were torn between awe, and a little bit of envy, at how easily the Swiss woman had navigated this greeting, and shock. She remembered you? She was happy to see you? Once your heart slowed down from a wild canter to a moderate gallop and your brain was working more clearly again, you realized that this was probably just something Ana had said to make the situation less awkward, not something she truly meant.
“So, do you want to sit down?” Lola suggested with a smirk on her face. Thankfully she left it at that though and you quickly sank down into a chair. You felt too embarrassed to look at Ana, so you completely missed the reassuring smile she sent your way.
After that things went much more smoothly, mostly because Lola and Ana carried the conversation, allowing you and Misa to remain in your preferred role, attentive listener. Your former teammate as well as your crush tried valiantly to draw you out of your shell, but out of fear of saying something stupid, you kept your answers as short as possible without being weird or unfriendly. If only you could think of something witty to say!
On the bright side your relative quietness gave you a good opportunity to study Ana. She was stunning as always, but you could easily spot the signs of the toll this move to the Atlético had taken on her; her smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual and didn’t reach her eyes, her voice was a little duller, there were badly covered up dark bags underneath her eyes and she was a bit more subdued than normal  in general. Man, you really had spent way too long looking at any video of her you could find to notice things like that!
Then all of the sudden Misa let out a gasp. “I completely forgot I promised my neighbor I’d let in her daughter today. I need to leave right now to make it.”
You frowned at your teammate; it wasn’t like her to forget something as important as that. Was something more than her unhappiness with being stuck at Real bothering her? You made a mental note to ask Misa about it the next day, remind her that you were always there if she needed someone.
Misa’s departure didn’t really change anything in the dynamic, she hadn’t contributed much just like you. But then Lola got a phone call from her girlfriend who apparently needed your former teammate urgently. She looked at the two of you apologetically, however you could swear that there was some glee shimmering behind her regretful front.
“You girls should stay here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Really I’m so sorry about this, don’t let it ruin your day,” Lola babbled, pressing a kiss to both your and Ana’s cheek before dashing out of the café.
You looked after her with confusion. The confusion however was short-lived, quickly drowned out by panic once you realized that you were now left alone with Ana. No more hiding behind other people, no more safety net. You weren’t ready. However leaving also wasn’t an option, there was no way you could do so without offending Ana, so you had to pull yourself together.
“I’m sorry about that,” Ana apologized, bringing your confusion back. As far as you were aware the Swiss woman had absolutely nothing to apologize for.
“They probably planned this because they think I need to be more social again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenni put them up to it, she’s been pretty worried,” the Swiss woman specified, leaving you reeling because you didn’t know how to deal with that much honesty.
“Oh,” you replied, praying that some more words would enter your brain. “Maybe they also did it for me. They think I’m pretty antisocial in general,” you finished, kicking yourself for making yourself look even more pathetic than you already did.
To your surprise Ana didn’t seem put off; on the contrary she chuckled and said, “Well we can be antisocial together then.”
The Swiss woman using the word ‘together’ in reference to the both of you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you could definitely get used to that.
In an attempt to take control of the situation and not end up blurting out something stupid if Ana asked you a question, you inquired how she was liking Madrid so far. It seemed like a normal thing to ask someone that had just moved to a new place.
However the Swiss woman didn’t answer right away, which was atypical for her who always seemed to have a reply ready. That combined with the guarded look in her eyes made you realize that this wasn’t a safe and easy topic for her. In your rush to make sure nothing that would be complicated for you came up, you had totally forgotten that Ana’s own move to Madrid had been anything but a happy occurence. Way to be selfish!
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything, that was such a stupid thing to say,” you apologized frantically
“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ana quickly reassured you. “I just don’t really know what to say. Obviously I didn’t want to come here, I miss Barcelona. Both the city and the team. So I’m not having the best time to be completely honest. Then again I also haven’t given Madrid much of a chance yet. So…”
The Swiss woman’s openness left you stunned once again. This could never be you, sharing your thoughts and feelings so freely. At the same time you noticed with a surge of excitement and dread that Ana’s explanation gave you a good opening, not unlike your daydreams in fact.
Your fear of being annoying and overstepping was battling hard against your longing to get to spend more time with the blonde in the future. In the end you decided to go for it, maybe Ana would appreciate it and if she didn’t want to hang out again, she could just say so. Of course there was still the fear of rejection holding you back, but you shoved that to the back of your mind. If you didn’t ask the answer would always be no, right?
“If you want to I could show you around Madrid sometime. I’ve lived here all my life so I know the place like the back of my hand and know some nice places. Totally fine if you don’t of course, I’m sure there are many other people that could show you around.”
You spoke in record speed, making it hard for Ana to follow, which was why it took her a moment to answer. These few seconds were some of the most horrible ones in your life. If she said no now all your hopes would be shattered once and for all. Everyone always said it was important to know so you could move on, but honestly if the Swiss woman didn’t want to spend any time with you, you didn’t want to know.
“That sounds great, I’d love to,” Ana replied once she had enough time to process your jumble of words.
“Really?” You double checked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.
“Yeah, definitely,” the Swiss woman confirmed with a gentle smile. A smile that you returned happily. You hadn’t felt this excited in a while, it was a nice change from the bleakness that had become your constant companion.
The rest of your time together was spent chatting easily. You weren’t a great conversationalist, however with Ana it came much more natural. The blonde definitely did the heavy lifting, but you were happy with your own contributions. You even made her laugh a few times!
Later that day when you were back in your apartment you were much more critical, taking apart every single thing that you had said and coming to the conclusion that you must be the stupidest person on the planet. Thankfully you were going to get another chance in a few days and this time you would be better prepared. You would say interesting things and you would make sure Ana had a great time. The blonde deserved some joy and happiness and you would do your best to give her that.
Before your next meeting with Ana you actually made a plan; you would make a list of her interests and think of possible questions, some jokes and interesting facts you could mention. You spent one evening on it, working furiously and then you realized what you were doing, feeling very foolish all of the sudden. You scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash with some force.
This was pointless and unnecessary and totally embarrassing! Maybe you weren’t the best at coming up with things to say on the spot, but rehearsing everything like this was a role in a play was stupid. The urge to do absolutely everything to get Ana to like you was huge, however is she only liked this carefully crafted version of you that wasn’t any better than her not liking you at all.
Also, you shouldn’t even attempt to get the Swiss woman to like you. Just like you should keep your own crush in check. Ana’s life was complicated enough at the moment, you didn’t need to add your infatuation into the mix.
Unfortunately your noble plan to ignore your crush failed miserably. Whenever you spent time with Ana you fell a little more for her. It was simply impossible not to when she was the kindest, funniest, most interesting and on top of that most beautiful person in the world.
Like when you were out and about on one of your strolls to the city and a young couple approached you, asking if you could take a picture of them. As was typical for you, you hesitated for a moment; not necessarily because you didn’t want to, but because your mind was already working in overdrive, supplying you with every possible negative outcome.
Ana on the other hand smiled at them. “Of course! Where do you want to take it?”
And then she proceeded to take several pictures of the two, showing them to the couple, and when they weren’t completely satisfied yet, she even offered her own suggestions on how they might turn out even better.
All the way you were just watching them, well mostly Ana, with a goofy smile. You loved how much she cared, how much effort she put into random people she didn’t even know. No wait, you didn’t love that, you liked that, admired it.
Or when Ana convinced you to go into a tiny café. A place you would have never frequented on your own because the intimacy of it freaked you out. Not the blonde though. Within seconds she began chatting with the owner, a middle-aged woman who was thrilled someone showed so much interest in her small establishment.
The cake you got was very tasty as was the coffee and the homemade ice tea. You were quick to admit that Ana had made a good decision by forcing you to go there.
However what really pulled at your heartstring was that the Swiss woman went up to the owner afterwards and asked if it was okay to post about this place on Instagram. The poor woman almost started crying out of happiness and thanked Ana profusely, while the blonde kept insisting that this was nothing and really it should be her thanking the owner.
So it was safe to say that you fell deeper and harder every time you saw Ana. But it was okay, you had a foolproof way to make sure that the blonde didn’t figure it out and therefore her life didn’t get disrupted because of you. Whenever you echoed a statement Ana had made about how much she liked hanging out with you or that she thought you were a great person, you always added ‘friend’ into the mix; “I enjoy hanging out with you too, you’re such a great friend.” and “Aw thank you. You’re one of the best people and friends I know too!”
Sometimes when you were feeling particularly hopeful you wondered if the lack of specification on Ana’s part meant that she liked you as more than a friend. You always discarded the idea quickly though. It was much more likely that the thought of being more than friends was so ludicrous to the blonde, something that had probbly never even grazed her mind, that she didn’t feel the need to explicitly state it.
Despite having to resign yourself to the fact that Ana didn’t like you like that, it still made you happy that she was usually in a good mood when you were hanging out. Something you were secretly very proud of. Still every once in a while her sadness shined through, for example when she heard someone speak Catalan or when she saw something that reminded her of Barcelona.
One time a group of fans came up to her. They were friendly and excited and the Swiss woman matched their energy effortlessly. But then one of them mentioned how sad they were that Ana wasn’t playing for Barça anymore. You were forced to watch the blonde deflate slightly after that thoughtless statement. She was good at pretending though, so the fans were none the wiser.
When they were gone you gathered all of your courage. Up until now you had stayed in the shallows of easy conversation so this was a first and once again you worried about overstepping. But when you saw Ana’s sad eyes and the forcefully pulled up corners of her mouth, you couldn’t stay silent.
“Do you want to talk about it? I mean your transfer from Barça? I know we haven’t really talked about that or othe serious things yet, but I’m always happy to listen. I’m actually pretty good at that.”
The Swiss woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.
“That’s very sweet but honestly I’ve been talking so much about it lately. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. So if it’s okay with you could we just continue like before? The distraction has been helping a lot.”
You had been helping! Happiness flowed through you and your smile was maybe a bit bigger than was warranted for a situation like this. However unless Ana was studying you as intently as you always studied her, you doubted that the blonde would notice.
“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to help in anyway.”
Ana and you kept seeing each other regularly and it was the undisputed highlight of your current life. Honestly it was a little worrying how few other things brought you any joy, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that.
So when you were put into a situation where you had to cancel on Ana you were devastated. It wasn’t an appropriate reaction to something so small, but you had a ten minute crying session until you could even begin to function properly again. Calling the Swiss woman was out of the question though, you were still chocked up and sniffling.
Instead you texted her, apologizing multiple times and explaining that you were roped into doing all sorts of things last minute for your father’s birthday tomorrow. You could have slapped yourself for not seeing this coming. Sure, your parents had assured you time and time again that everything was taken care of, but you should have known better. Then you could have done it before today and weren’t forced to cancel on Ana.
Only minutes after you had sent the text your phone started ringing with a call from the Swiss woman. With wide, panicked eyes you stared at the screen. In the end your desire to at least hear Ana’s voice if you couldn’t see her won out. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.
 „Hey I just saw your text and wanted to ask if I can help out with anything.”
You smiled at your phone, your heart warmed by Ana’s kindness. There was no doubt in your mind that she would actually follow through on your offer. Not that you would ever take it.
“Aw thank you so much, Ana! But it’s okay really. Most things I have to do at my parents place anyway. You know help them clean and decorate. So I’ll be out most of the day, and then in the evening I’ll have to bake the cake. Who knows how that’s going to go.”
You chuckled, even if you were feeling slightly panicked at the idea of baking. Normally your mother was in charge of that, but she had broken her arm a few weeks ago, so that was out of the question. Moments like this made you wish that you had some siblings or some cousins for that matter, just anyone to help you out.
“Not to brag, but I’m actually a great baker. So if you want some help, I’m happy to come over in the evening and help,” the blonde offered.
It would be nice to have some help, and you always wanted to see Ana. Plus she had brought up the idea of her own accord, so surely it was okay, right?
“That would be great actually. Thank you so much,” you replied, not giving your mind any more opportunity to drive yourself crazy.
Ana and you quickly planned everything out before you hung up and left to do everything else. With the prospect of seeing the Swiss woman later today you were a lot more cheerful than before.
“What’s got you so happy?” Your mother asked you while she supervised the decorating process.
It was incredibly frustrating since she kept criticizing everything you did. Every few minutes you had to step away for a moment, take some deep breaths and visualize how your evening with Ana would be, full of laughter and fun conversation.
“Not this, that’s for sure,” you muttered, low enough so that your mothers whose hearing wasn’t the best anymore, couldn’t here you.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you said louder, “I’m just in a good mood, I guess.”
There was no point in bringing up Ana. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you and even after knowing about it for almost ten years your parents still struggled with your sexuality. To avoid unnecessary conflict and awkwardness you never spoke about women you liked unless it was something serious. So never.
“You should focus on decorating and not smile so much. Maybe then we would get somewhere.”
You rolled your eyes, but kept your mouth shut. No point in pointing out that most parents would be happy if their child was happy. And it wasn’t like your mother wasn’t happy about it, she just wasn’t good at being pleasant around you. Somehow she always felt the need to criticize you.
Hours later you got into your car, quickly drove away and as soon as you were a decent distance from your parents’ house you let out a loud scream, releasing all of the built up frustration. Then you set your focus on the near future, on the fact that you would be meeting Ana in half an hour at your apartment. Baking wasn’t really your thing, but baking with the Swiss sounded like a lot of fun. Anything was fun with her really; just being around her made you so happy.
When you got to your apartment Ana was already waiting for you, leaning against her car. A big smile appeared on the blonde’s face when she saw you and she waved at you happily. It warmed your insides, swept away any remnant of frustration from the long day with your parents, seeing how excited Ana was to see you.
You got set up quickly, putting out all the ingredients and opening up the recipe you had settled on. Then you turned to the Swiss woman expectantly.
“So any baking pro tips from you before we start?” You asked teasingly.
Ana looked at you sheepishly.
“To be completely honest I don’t really know that much about baking. I usually only bake once a year to make some Christmas cookie,” the blonde admitted, scratching her nose.
You frowned at her in confusion. This didn’t really make any sense to you, but you didn’t want to make Ana feel bad about it.
“So why did you say you did?” You asked carefully. ��I mean only if you want to tell me, it’s totally fine if you don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”
The Swiss woman blushed a little as she explained herself, “I really just wanted to spend some time with you today.”
Your heart started racing at this confession, your hopes going through the roof.  It didn’t take long for the logical part of your brain to bring you back to earth though. Surely this didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. Most likely Ana was just struggling today and didn’t want to be alone.
“Oh I’m sorry you’re having a hard time today. You know you can always tell me that and if it’s possible at all I’ll always make time for you. You don’t have to make up reasons to hang out.”
Ana stared at you with a pained expression. It hurt your heart to see her in pain and it made you wonder if something had happened today, perhaps something that reminded her of Barcelona?
“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked when the blonde stayed quiet, but then you thought better of it. “Wait no I’m sorry, you already said that you’re tired of talking about it before and that you prefer a distraction. So let’s bake!”
You put some extra excitement into your voice and made sure to keep up a stream of easy chatter as you got to work. For a while Ana remained a bit distant and quiet, but before too long her smile returned and she began talking and joking.
When the blonde laughed loudly at a joke you had made you felt very proud of yourself for giving Ana what she needed, a distraction. If you continued to be helpful she would keep wanting to hang out with you and that was also very much in your interest. Even if the knowledge that it meant something else to you hurt somewhat every time you thought of it.
However it was all worth it to get to spend time with Ana. Everything was worth that.
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ssparksflyy · 2 days
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what's he got that i don't? 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚
pairing percy jackson x fem!reader summary based off this request!! an i actually love this request sm 😋 in jealous percy we trust
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PERCY sighed dramatically as he plopped himself down on his bed, scooting up to put his head in your lap. he'd just gotten back from a meeting with chiron about helping out with teaching new campers how to handle swords and was quite frankly, exhausted. he'd spent his whole day running around, going from lesson to lesson, already helping out with all sorts of things. he hadn't seen you since breakfast and desperately needed to feel you close after his hectic day. walking into his cabin to see you sitting in his bed reading made him feel like maybe the gods didn't hate him and they knew how to answer his prayers after all.
"long day?" you asked, moving one of your hands down to his hair and ran your fingers through it while the other continued to hold up your book.
"mhm" he hummed in response.
"what'd you do?" you followed up.
"teach, teach some more, help out, then go teach again" he said, "i didn't even ask to be a teacher."
"you didn't ask for a lot of things, just another thing to add to the list babe. im sure the kids who need help greatly appreciate you and your teaching"
"i guess"
you sat in silence for a minute, continuing to play with percy's hair and read. he would've been fine staying like that and maybe even wouldve ended up falling asleep in your lap, but he had hardly spent any time with you today. he wanted to talk to you more and kiss your lips and hug you, but your nose was stuck in that stupid book he didn't even understand.
"whatcha reading?" he asked and lifted his head up, moving it to rest his chin on your stomach.
"the hunger games" you replied.
he mumbled a quick 'okay' and kept his head on your stomach, looking up at you and watching as you read.
as much as percy loved quiet moments like this, it was the opposite of what he wanted. he knew you enjoyed reading, and now was one of the few opportunities you got to read in peace, but he hadn't seen you in hours and (even though he wouldnt admit it) was in desperate need for your attention. when he saw you smile at something in your book, he decided to try for a conversation again.
"whatcha smilin' at?"
you looked away from your book, "nothin. just this guy."
he got up and furrowed his brow, "what guy?"
"he's not real, percy."
"don't matter, what guy is making my girl smile like that?"
you rolled your eyes, "a guy made of ink and imaginations. that's who."
"lemme see" he said, holding out his hand for you to hand him the book.
you handed him the book and watched as he squinted his eyes, trying to read it.
"i can't read."
"i know."
"what's it say?"
he handed you the book back, ""i don’t think it’s going to work out. winning . . . won’t help in my case," says peeta. "why ever not?" says caesar, mystified. peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "because . . .because . . . she came here with me.""
percy pauses for a second. "you were smiling at that? what does it even mean?"
"see! you dont get it, it's nothing." you said, trying to brush it off.
"mmm i think its something" he said. he already had your attention away from reading your book, now it was just a matter of keeping it up.
"you wanna know? fine." you huffed, "im smiling because i remember when i read this for the first time and i was freaking out because katniss and peeta hardly even talk in this part of the book, and he just reveals that he's got a crush on her, but you don't know that he's actually faking it - but at the same time he's not - because it's set in katniss' perspective, so you're left all 'what was that?! what does he mean!!!' and it becomes something that peeta does again later cause he's smart and knows what cards to play in order for people to like him!!"
he looked at you in surprise, "oh- wow, sorry." he apologized, taking your hands in his, "so is peeta your favorite character?"
you knew you could just give him a simple yes and be over with the whole thing, but if he wanted the truth, then the truth is what he would get.
"yea, he really is. he's just the perfect guy" you said smugly, opening your book back up and pretending to start reading again.
"pfff- yea right! what happened to imaginations and ink?" he said. you could hear the slightest bit of jealousy in his voice and decided to keep going.
"doesnt take away the fact that he's perfect" you said as a mattter-of-factly.
"oh yea? well i think he's a fake nobody."
"fake nobody or not, he's still really smart, strong, an artist, a great baker, handsome in the movies-"
"josh hutcherson is not handsome."
"im gonna act like you didn't just say that." you said, realizing this was going the way you wanted it to, "but gods, did i mention how good of a boyfriend he is? i mean the way he cared for katniss?? hes literally everything a girl could ask fo-"
"hey you know im your boyfriend, not him, right?" percy asked, his tone sounding unsure and annoyed.
you stopped there and put your book down. you didn't think he'd actually be bothered by you talking about a fictional guy. he was never really the jealous type, had he actually taken it seriously?
"perce... are you.. jealous?" you asked in disbelief.
he gave you an offended look that you could tell was fake, "what?! no! course not! why would i be jealous of some fake baker dude??"
you couldnt help but laugh as he continued to try and defend himself from your 'wild' and 'indecorous' 'accusations'.
"i wasnt accusing you of anything! just asking!!" you said through your fit of giggles.
"yea you were! i feel very attacked right now, i though this was supposed to be a safe space!!" you only laughed more.
once you managed to get yourself to stop laughing, you moved closer to percy and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "i was just joking, you know that right?"
he mumbled a quick 'yea' while moving over to your side so he could put his arm around you and pull you into his chest. he left a kiss ontop of your head as you got comfortable in his embrace, putting your book on his nightstand.
percy had gotten his chance to talk to you, and now was able to hold you close, just like he wanted. yes it took listening to you ramble about some other (fake) guy, but who cares!! before finally closing his eyes and falling under hypnos' spell, he only had one more question about the book you were reading.
"by the way, who's finnick odair?"
"OHMYGOD, SO-"
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williamsonarssnal · 18 hours
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𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | L.W (part.1)
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SILVER SPRING ⸻ leah williamson x swimmer!reader.
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warning: angsty, mentions of marriage, heartbroken (L & R), confused (R). English isn't my first language!
In London, the vibrant city that pulsated to the rhythm of football, Leah Williamson shone like the Sun, illuminating the Emirates Stadium with her grit and talent. Y/n, on the other hand, an Olympic swimmer, was the Moon, gliding through the crystal-clear waters of the pool with the grace and strength of a celestial body.
Leah, the fearless captain of Arsenal, was admired by crowds, her radiant smile and unwavering leadership making her an icon of the sport. Y/n, on the other hand, conquered the world with her perseverance and discipline, each stroke bringing her closer to Olympic glory.
Though Leah and Y/n admired each other from afar, their worlds seemed to coexist in different orbits, like the Sun and the Moon. Leah, always surrounded by spotlights and applause, craved a quiet and cozy love. Y/n, dedicated to her passion for swimming, saw marriage as an obstacle to her freedom and dreams.
One day, fate brought them together at a charity event. Leah, enchanted by Y/n's beauty and determination, approached timidly. Y/n, admired by Leah's strength and humility, felt an unexpected connection.
"Hi, I'm Leah," she shouted over the loud music.
"Y/n, nice to meet you, England captain."
"The pleasure's all mine, gold medalist."
Over conversations and secret meetings, Leah and Y/n discovered a deep and sincere love, a feeling that transcended societal expectations. But, like the Sun and the Moon, they also carried their own dreams and ambitions.
Leah, wanting a future with Y/n, proposed marriage. Y/n, overwhelmed by the love she felt, found herself in a dilemma. Her heart belonged to Leah, but her soul longed for the freedom of the water.
"I can't, Leah."
"What?"
"I can't focus on starting a family with you right now."
Leah was still in shock by the woman in front of her's response. She was sure Y/n loved her with the same intensity. She was sure she was doing the right thing, the woman just got up and walked towards the door, since clearly the movie had been ruined. Y/n, on the other hand, sat on the cold living room floor while her shared dog lay on her legs trying to comfort her. Marvin was a Golden Retriever that Leah had given her for her birthday after finding out how much she loved the breed, he was a constant reminder of how much Leah cared about her and how they were already a family. This crazy decision of hers was already affecting their son.
She was already regretting her actions and how she was being arrogant putting her career above her perfect relationship, but now it was too late and Leah was probably at Lia's or some teammate's house. Tears streamed down her face, she was feeling so stupid for letting the love of her life walk away.
Days went by and Leah still hadn't spoken to her or even sent a message, she was living on autopilot. She entered the club without greeting any teammates and just changed in silence, training non-stop. In addition to taking advantage of the times when Lia asked to pick up Marvin to stay with Leah for a week and since the dog was shared she agreed immediately starting to accept the end of her relationship. Lia was angry at what she did to her best friend, but sad to see her state as she packed the dog's things.
"You're an airhead, girl," she said, and you just shrugged, trying to ignore the woman's words, just smiling faintly when your dog barked trying to get your attention. "Don't ruin your family, he needs you two together." You looked at her a little surprised, not knowing what to say, just lowering your head as you both walked away.
It was exactly a week after Marvin left and without the dog at home you spent more time training until the peak of exhaustion, doing several laps of different strokes each time wanting to break your record. Your cell phone was on silent so no one could disturb you, you were swimming butterfly and it was clear how much you liked the stroke, your favorite, you had such a great facility. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, pushing her to surpass her limits. But then, a sharp pain shot through her calf. A relentless cramp seized her, paralyzing her movements.
Panic took hold of S/n. She tried to fight the pain, but it was futile. Her arms grew heavy, her legs refused to obey. She began to sink, the crystal-clear water turning into a suffocating nightmare.
In her last moments of consciousness, images of her life floated through her mind: the Olympic glories, Leah's love, the promise of a future together. Anguish and regret gripped her. She had sacrificed everything for her dream, but now, with death lurking, she realized that Leah's love was what mattered most.
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ghostofhyuck · 1 day
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AN: Hey, hahaha it's my first time writing a suggestive, detailed make-out session so don't judge me lmao.
01:47 AM
"Hey beautiful," Mark grins as soon as the door closed.
Coming home to see you sitting on the couch, waiting for him despite the late night gives him energy even though he spent the whole day practicing for their concert. To add to that, he's also working on his solo too.
"Hey love," you giggled as you approached him. His arms automatically spread just so you could embrace him with ease. As soon as you crashed onto him, his arms wrapped around you tightly. He breathes onto your hair, smelling the vanilla-scent of your shampoo. Mark smiles fondly as he gives it a sweet peck.
"How's your practice?" you asked, looking up to him.
"Tiring, the kids' never ran out of energy! But it was a fun practice, hopefully we stay healthy until the tour ends," Mark explains.
"Is that so? Do you want to sleep now? I know you have a schedule tomorrow," you said with a concerned tone.
Mark thought about it for moment, but this is only one of the nights where he goes home to you. Especially when you're still awake. He often catches you sleeping when he arrives, and could only savor a few hours in the morning because he has to leave early too.
"I'm good, I just miss you baby," he confessed.
You smiled at him, brushing his hair fondly. "You miss me?"
"So so fucking much," he said. His voice deeper than before.
You only let out a small laugh when you felt his lips crashing onto yours. Mark can taste the peach lip balm of yours. Never mind that you already did your nightly lip care routine, all he wants is you.
You kissed him back, reciprocating the longing that you had to taste your lover's lips. Your arms draping around his shoulders so that you could pull him closer. While Mark's hands trailed down on your thighs, tapping it gently so that you could jumped onto him. His arms gripping your ass firmly as he carries you all the way to the couch.
Mark lays you down gently. He breaks away from the kiss making you whine quietly.
You saw how his eyes darkened, hands brushing away the stray hair that covered your face. Gently, he cups your left cheek. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this."
"Mark ---" and before you knew, his lips are on yours once again. It's sweet, intoxicating, probably something inside him grew a craving for you.
You couldn't help but to drown into the heat. Feeling things warming up as you can feel your lover's hands trailing around your body. You moaned as his tongue enters your mouth, savoring your taste more.
Mark's lips trailed down on your jaw, leaving trails of kisses on your neck, throat --- until he reached your shoulder, a part where you're sensitive the most. You could only inhale sharply as you can your lover bites your skin, sucking it, and leaving marks on it.
"M-mark," you couldn't help but to call out his name, your hands loosing its grip on his shoulders as you fall more into the pleasure. You could only close your eyes as you feel everything heating up more.
"Baby," Mark called out once again, he kisses you once again, much sloppy this time.
But your eyes widen when you felt Mark's hands trailing down your waist, tugging the waistband of your pajamas. Eyes wide, you lightly pushed Mark away from you.
"Wait, shit I'm sorry baby," Mark apologized immediately, realizing what he has done.
"No, no, it's okay," you answered back. "Things got heated up too."
"No, it's not okay, I crossed your boundaries."
You only smiled at your boyfriend. "Mark you didn't, I pushed you away and you got the signal, you stopped immediately."
Mark became quiet for a while. Guilt eating him up.
Despite the many times you two made out, you two never had sex because both of you decided to do it after marriage. It sound old-school but Mark respected that decision of yours when you first open it up.
Mark knows where his boundaries are and he never done things that would make you uncomfortable. He's satisfied with what you two had. There were only a few times he almost crossed the line but once you told him to stop, he immediately does, and that's one of the reason why you love Mark so much.
"I'm really, really, sorry baby," Mark said once again.
"One more sorry from you and you're ban from my kisses," you taunted.
"Okay, I'll stop," Mark said, even raising both of his hand as a sign of defeat.
You smiled once again, cupping his cheeks and planting a quick kiss on his lips.
"I think we should sleep now," you told him. Thinking that things might go far if you two start another make-out session.
Mark only chuckles as he steals a kiss from you, "yeah we should just sleep."
Your boyfriend gets up from the couch first, and before you could move, Mark swings his arms around your legs and waist, carrying you bridal-style.
"Mark! I can walk you know?" you said to him, punching his shoulder lightly.
"Just practicing," Mark said.
You raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
And before he answers, he kisses you once again. "For our wedding night."
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jinwoosungs · 2 days
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{ 166 }
too sweet.
jinwoo sung x fem.reader
{ you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain | pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape | if you can sit in a barrel, maybe i’ll wait until that day… }
@nyashykyunnie said: HELLLOOOO. Since you granted me permission to request a daydream uhm… Jinwoo with a reader who hyperfixates on a lot of things! The fungi, the stars and most especially the sea!! Reader lovesloves whales and jellyfishes and sharks lots!! She loves the sea so much,,!!!!, She also draws a lot><!!! Art is her biggest passion most of all!! She’s like a free bird always so cheery and happy!! Loves all things pretty and cute! A very very childish reader who is just a ball of sunshine and energy!! Loves messing ariund with Jinwoo by putting little dabs of paint on his face heheh… And loves comparing hand sizes and cuddless><!!! Sorry it’s so long ueueueu
there were times when jinwoo sung had to wonder just how he got so lucky to be with someone as bright as you.
whereas he was the pure and true embodiment of darkness-
jinwoo was certain you were light personified.
everything about you was achingly sweet to the core-
too sweet, actually.
the moment he had fallen in love with you was one that happened so… naturally. that day, he had taken some time off in order to take his mother and sister to the nearest beach. he rented out a tiny cottage by the sea, giving them the perfect view of the ocean.
while his mother and sister spent some time walking on the beach together, jinwoo wanted to give them a chance to have the much needed mother-daughter moment they both deserved, deviating from the mainland beach when he sees rugged rocks with tide pools settled beneath the harsh terrain. he thinks about all the fascinating creatures that lived within such little pools and steps closer to the area.
however, the closer he got to the tide pools, the quickly he realized that he was not alone.
for settled against one of the rocks was a young woman that was sketching within the confines of her sketchbook-
it was you.
jinwoo was suddenly rendered speechless at the mere sight of you, taking a moment to admire the way your hair shone from beneath the sunlight. your cute features were turned into a look of concentration, with your lips pursed and your eyebrows furrowed in response.
as you inched closer to the shallow pool, you had somehow lost your balance and nearly face-planted within the waters-
had it not been for jinwoo’s quick thinking, making a mad dash toward you as he captured your frame within his arms. his eyes were glowing with amusement, fighting back a smile when he sweetly asks, “are you alright?”
jinwoo helps you safely lean back against the rock, with your hands gripping on tightly to his wrist before meeting his gaze.
not a hint of fear was seen settled in your eyes, and jinwoo found that he couldn’t look away from you. your smile goes wide as you eagerly introduced yourself to him. already mesmerized by your bright and sunny nature, he repeats your name, ready to introduce himself as well when you suddenly beat him to it.
“you’re jinwoo sung, i know.”
you know?
“that’s interesting.” jinwoo couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. usually, those that met him treated him like some celebrity or idol, getting tongue tied as they bowed down to him, stuttering out their greetings while avoiding his gaze-
but you-
you were oh so different.
your gaze met with his in an unflinching manner, with your lips tilted up in a smile that manages to make his heart pound in response. the more he looked at you, the more he could feel his heart becoming filled with your sweetness and light.
after trading pleasantries, he helps you down from the rock, walking along the beach with you while softly asking if he could see your sketchbook. you would give him a sheepish expression, your cheeks being filled with heat before giving him your sketchbook as you told him your sketches “weren’t much.” as he flips through the pages, you were clearly downplaying your talents as each and every sketch was filled with a vibrancy he had never seen before.
but that all changes when jinwoo sees a sketch of himself hidden amidst the pages.
your gasp and the way you immediately tried to take the sketchbook away from him was amusing, with jinwoo holding the book up high, his eyes glowing while they took in the sight of the drawing you had made of him.
from the soft expression to the way his hair was carefully layered, jinwoo couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride, seeing how pretty you had made him.
“beautiful…” after ensuring that your sketch of him was burned into his very memories, he returns it back to you, basking in your shy expression and the way you suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze.
“you weren’t supposed to see that. now, i’m sure you find me… strange, right?”
yet instead of teasing you further-
he asks you out on a date later that night.
and the moment you accepted his offer for a date-
the rest was history.
a single date meant as a simple thank you for allowing him to see your sketches turned into something a bit more frequent; a bit more permanent.
jinwoo would find himself spending every weekend to visit you, allowing the seemingly simple and innocent crush to grow into something much deeper.
and truly, how could he not fall in love with you?
each time you spoke passionately about your interests-
(of the sharks and colorful jellyfish that lives within the crystal blue depths of the ocean;
of the strange mushrooms seen growing within your backyard, seeming to have a life of their own as they lengthened and grew beneath the emerald green grass;
of the constellations seen shimmering within the night sky from beneath the light of the full moon…)
never once did jinwoo get tired of hearing your musings and rants that pertained to your current hyperfixations, and more often than not, he would find gifts for you that further helped strengthened your love for each and every one of your interests.
(an encyclopedia for the ocean creatures and various fungal life; a book that goes into each legend of each constellation seen within the night sky and a telescope…)
in jinwoo’s eyes, no gift was ever too much for you. for you were the sole person that stole his very heart at first sight.
when he finally put a label on his relationship with you, he swore he would never forget the look of utmost joy within your eyes. your sweet voice would call out to him before you wrapped your arms around his neck, already planting a kiss against his parted lips.
a choked sound of surprise escapes from jinwoo, making you gasp as you quickly pulled away from him. a slew of apologies were heard coming from you-
and jinwoo wasn’t having it.
with a grunt of your name, he keeps your head still before diving in for another kiss, basking in the way you momentarily let out a gasp before practically melting against him. in mere seconds, jinwoo quickly became addicted to the soft and sweet taste of your lips.
already so enamored with you, he pulls away from you, only to murmur against your lips, “you’re too sweet for me… but… i have a feeling i could get used to your taste…”
it came as no surprise when jinwoo decided to move in together with you, not being able to handle a single moment spent separated away from you. each and every day was spent in an almost blissful manner, with the s-rank hunter cherishing each and every part of you.
and tonight was no different.
for your one year anniversary, jinwoo had taken you back to the beach where you had first met, preparing a home cooked dinner that consisted of all your favorite foods. after your meal, you had laid against jinwoo’s chest while resting on the blanket, simply enjoying the colors that seemed to set the sky aflame while the sun began to set over the horizon.
jinwoo’s eyes were closed, simply basking in your warmth and the way the setting sun had painted his whole world in hues of a gentle twilight. while he was resting, he could feel your hand inching closer to his as you carefully held on to it. jinwoo could feel a smile begin to spread across his full lips as you flattened the palm of your hand against his, clearly measuring the size of your hand in comparison to his.
a soft chuckle escapes from him, “sarang, silly love of mine, just what are you doing?”
he opens up one eye to look at you, a half-smile painting his handsome features as he allowed an arm to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest as he remained laying down. basking in your giggles once more, he feels his heart began to race again the moment you lean down to press a kiss against his chest.
“i love you so much, jinwoo.”
“heh, i love you more, sarang.”
jinwoo presses a kiss against your hair while letting you play with his hands. he watches you with adoration, seeing you pick up his hand before interlocking your fingertips together. a wide grin paints his features when he gives your hand a squeeze before turning you around so that you were now settled with your back against the blanket.
your breathing comes out as gentle giggles, and jinwoo takes this chance to press several, audible smooches against your features. the more you let out those melodious sounds of your laughter, the more he kept littering your face with those achingly sweet kisses.
jinwoo successfully distracts you, and you couldn’t help but frown when you felt a sudden weight against your left ring finger. catching your shocked expression, he allows you to sit up while looking at the ring settled against your finger.
it was an incredibly cute and endearing ring, with your favorite gemstone shaped into a heart as you met jinwoo’s gaze, eyes going wide with your lips parted in response. “jinwoo… what’s this?”
“a promise.” his reply comes out as hoarse and shaky, taking your hand as he presses a kiss against the ring he had just gifted you. “i know it feels… a bit too soon to propose any… ah… commitment. but still, i wanted you to know that i’m completely serious about you.”
“this ring will serve as my promise to you… of what is to come.”
with a choked sob of his name, you lean forward to kiss him once more, perfectly slotting your lips against his as jinwoo kissed you back with just as much passion.
jinwoo knew right then and there that he had made the right decision of keeping you; for you were (and always will be) his sole light.
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a.n. - when kyunnie made a second part to her most gut wrenching angst, i was so elated and happy that i wanted to write / make a daydream of hers come true. i hope i wrote your daydreams well enough! 🥹
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
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Kiss Me, Already | Jung Wooyoung
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-> Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x gf!reader
-> Request: No. This is a repost from my old account.
-> Synopsis: Y/N just wants her boyfriend to kiss her already.
-> Warnings: Established relationship.
-> Word Count: 244
-> Requests: Open.
ATEEZ Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines
©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. Thank you.
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Y/N is becoming impatient with her boyfriend. The clinginess she doesn’t mind. She's all for it since they've spent the two months apart. He just got home from being overseas and the only contact she's had with him is through the small screen of their phones. She's being just as clingy as he is.
The issue is he won’t shut up long enough to let her kiss him. He’s usually good at picking up on your hints, the subtle little kisses she would leave on his neck and cheek as she lays curled into his side with his fingers running through her hair.
As he rambles on about how Yeosang, San and Jongho teamed up to try and prank him, she decides to interrupt him. "Would you just kiss me already?"
He looks down at her, his mouth o-shaped and eyes blinking a couple times at her interruption. His cheeks blush a light shade of red, feeling slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t realized he was talking a mile a minute. He was excited to tell her about everything he hadn’t told you during their phone calls.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes and cups her face before pressing his lips to hers in a sweet peck before kissing her properly. “I missed you,” he said when he broke the kiss. He takes her hand, entwining their fingers together.
“I missed you too,” she smiles and curls back into his side as he continues his ramblings.
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TAGGING: @staytiny2000 - @treehouse-mouse - @kpopmenace143 - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea
@rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie – @hollxe1
@deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things - @everythingboutkpop - @dancelikebutterflywings-library
@trinxt
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karma in the shape of a god
pairing: bang chan x fem reader
genre: smut with feelings
word count: ~4.7k
synopsis: a night with the boys leads to a confession from you, which leads to some fun
warnings: drinking, reader is insecure about her body, oral (f.receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, choking, chan is called daddy, pet names for reader include: baby, honey, princess, good girl etc. i think that’s all?
an: been feeling uninspired recently, unable to write anything really. so.. here’s something that’s been in my drafts for a while. is it kinda cringe? yeah, absolutely. but that’s part of its charm. 💕
masterlist
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your relationship with chan was still pretty new. you had only been together for a couple months now and things seemed to be going great. you really felt like you were falling for him but didn’t understand how he could possibly feel the same way about you. you looked at yourself in the mirror, having just finished your makeup and you took a deep breath. he likes you, or else he wouldn’t be in this relationship. right? that’s what you told yourself.
"baby are you ready?" he called from the kitchen of your apartment. his voice felt cleansing to your doubts, like rain is cleansing to the earth. he had been waiting on you for only a moment, having come to pick you up.
"yeah, im coming!" you called back. tonight you were going to a get together with all of his closest friends. you had met the guys once or twice, but never had spent too much time with them. they were always so busy, chan included. you bounded down the hallway, your eyes growing wide as they landed on him. wow he looked good. he always did, but tonight he was wearing jeans, which is rare for him, and a loose fitting white t-shirt. you felt like you might start drooling. you double checked to make sure your mouth wasn’t hanging wide open.
"you look so pretty." he said, approaching you. "so cute." he booped your nose with the tip of his index finger. your cheeks turned red and he let out a little giggle. he placed his hand on your hip and pulled you close, his mouth landing on yours for a quick peck. no matter how quick the kiss, you felt it send a jolt straight to your core. fuck it was going to be a long night. even though your relationship was new, you had already had sex with chan. you couldn’t resist, but it was pretty basic vanilla sex. it was sort of a mess of limbs as you tried to get to know each others likes and dislikes. you could tell he was being timid and careful so as not to hurt you or scare you off, and to be honest, you were too shy to tell him what you really want. you felt like your desires were normal, and you weren’t ashamed of them, but you had never told anyone about them. and you really didn’t think you would be able to tell chan. especially since you had only been together a couple of months. so, it was safe to say that the sex was okay, you both achieved climax, but it also left you both wanting. this was still on your mind, and you were cursing yourself for being so damn shy, when he led you out of the apartment and down to his car.
he opened the door for you and helped you in, leaning across you to buckle your seatbelt. you loved this about chan, he always took such good care of you. he carefully closed the door and walked around the front of the car to the drivers side. he buckled himself and started the engine. you couldn’t help but notice his hands gripping the steering wheel, veins sticking out as he turned the wheel to pull away from the curb.
"yn? hello?" he said with a chuckle.
"what?" you answered, confused. "did you say something?"
he reached over and put his hand on your thigh. you looked down at it, feeling that tingle in your core again, trying your hardest to focus on what he was saying to you.
"are you okay? you seem off." he said.
you swallowed and looked up at him. "no, I’m fine. just a little nervous is all." you tell him. which, is true. social gatherings always made you nervous, no matter how nice the people are. so you weren’t lying, you just left out the part about how you’ve been fantasizing about him since he picked you up. maybe it’s a lie by omission but you didn’t care.
"there’s no reason to be nervous." he said. "the guys love you. and we’re just going to have some drinks and hang out. no big deal." he smiled over at you and squeezed your thigh lightly. "and I’ll be right there with you the whole time. we can leave if you get too uncomfortable."
you smiled and nodded at him. the next couple minutes were filled with comfortable silence as you approached your destination. he parked the car and you got out.
"baby, I’ll always get the car door for you." he said, disappointed that you opened it and got out before he had the chance to do it for you.
"that’s okay, channie. you can do it on the way home, okay?"
this seemed to appease him and he took your hand and led you inside. before the door was even open, you could hear the ruckus inside. loud voices shouting at each other. they were all gathered around, shouting at the tv screen. you recognized hyunjin, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin seated on the couch. han and minho were on the little loveseat to the right, and felix was sat on the floor. one heck of a game of mario kart was happening and it seemed han was in the lead. he was focused, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. minho wasn’t playing, but instead was staring at han, a small smile on his lips and complete admiration in his eyes. hyunjin also wasn’t playing, but instead was trying to sabotage seungmin. he kept giggling and reaching for the controller, pushing random buttons. at the last second, jeongin managed to hit han (or rather, baby princess peach) with a shell and sent him spiraling. jeongin crossed the finish line coming in first place. they all threw their controllers down in defeat, as jeongin cheered.
you let out a small giggle at the scene. felix looked up from the floor and smiled. "hi yn." he waved. you waved back and with his hand on the small of your back, chan led you further into the room. changbin quickly got up and offered you his seat next to hyunjin, as there was no where else to sit. you thanked him with a small bow and took a seat.
"baby, you want a drink?" chan asked. you nodded and he returned a moment later with a cup.
———
the next couple hours were filled with drinks and laughs as more mario kart was played.
mario kart turned into truth or dare, which turned into some drinking game that changbin had made up, and by the end of it you were feeling pretty drunk. chan doesn’t drink, so he was just having fun watching you. at some point, you went to the bathroom and returned to find chan in your seat. you looked at him and he patted his lap, offering it to you. with all the dirty thoughts running through your brain tonight, you weren’t sure if sitting on his lap was the best decision, but liquid courage can do a lot for you. you were, admittedly, a lightweight. all the guys had been drinking the same as you and they were a little buzzed, but you were downright drunk. after spilling it on your shirt, chan took your cup away and placed it on the table.
"baby I think your drunk." he laughed, his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to his chest.
you looked up at his beautiful face. "I th-think your right." you hiccuped. this caused everyone to giggle.
"how about we get you home, yeah?" he stood up, lifting you off his lap in the process and placing you on your feet. you swayed a little when he tried to let go, so you clung to his arm. after exchanging goodbyes, he carefully led you out to the car and buckled you in. you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or not, but you thought he looked even more handsome than he did before. you also thought that wasn’t possible. he climbed into the drivers side and your attention again fell to his hands on the steering wheel. god, I want those wrapped around my neck, you thought.
"what was that, baby?" chan asked, a clear smile on his face.
"did I say that out loud?"
"yes you did." he laughed. he reached over to place his hand on your thigh again, like before.
"oh don’t do that.." you mumbled.
"don’t do what?" he pulled his hand away. "do you not like me touching you there?"
you threw your head back against the seat dramatically, before turning your head to face him. "th-that’s not it." you stuttered. "I like it when you touch me there. or anywhere really. I like it soooo much. too much. you’re driving me crazy. I want you to do so many things to me." you confessed with a sigh.
"oh yeah?" he had a smirk on his face. "like what?"
you shook your head. "mm can’t tell you that."
"sure you can, baby. you can tell me anything." he had his hand back on your thigh now, his thumb rubbing soft strokes into your skin.
you stared at that beautiful hand. "wanna be your good girl." the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even stop them. the shock of what you just said slowly settling in. the car was quiet for what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds.
"but you’re already my good girl." he said, his fingers digging into your skin. you could tell that your words changed his mood, his eyes now dark and filled with desire.
he pulled up to your apartment and parked the car. this time you waited, so he could open the door for you, but also so you could have an extra second to collect your thoughts. you can’t believe you had said that. how embarrassing.
he opened the door and helped you out of the car and back into your apartment.
you stumbled inside, kicking your shoes off at the door and started fumbling with your clothes.
"let’s get you to bed, yeah?"
"yes please, take me to bed channie." you practically moaned. you really were embarrassing yourself tonight, huh?
he laughed. "I’ll go get you some pajamas." and he headed towards your room.
oh, he really meant go to bed. like to sleep. you really felt like an idiot now. but god he looked so good. and the alcohol was fueling your need for him. you were needy before, but now it’s tenfold. you shakily followed him into your bedroom. he was digging around in your dresser for some sleep clothes for you. you slipped your shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor. then you fumbled with the button of your shorts for a minute before successfully undoing them and letting them fall to the floor as well. you had just unclasped your bra and dropped it with the rest of the clothes as chan found what he needed.
"this should work just fi—" he froze at the sight of you topless in front of him.
you approached him slowly. "thank you for taking such good care of me channie." you said sweetly, resting your palms on his chest. you let your hands explore his body, feeling his muscles under your fingertips. you couldn’t believe he was yours. you looked up at him. "kiss me." you said.
"baby girl, you’re drunk." he replied, grabbing your wrists with one hand and holding out the pajamas in the other. the sight of his strong hand wrapped around both of your wrists was definitely arousing and not helping his case at all.
"I want you. I want to be your good girl channie." you looked up at him with your best puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. "please? im so needy." you couldn’t believe you were actually saying these things to him. you were definitely drunk.
he took a deep breath. "fuck. princess, I want to. but you’re so drunk."
hmm princess, he had never called you that before, but you loved it.
"if you want to be a good girl for me, you’ll go to bed and we can talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober."
you pouted some more, but gave in, sensing he wasn’t going to budge on this. he slipped the t-shirt over your head and helped you into bed. he leaned down and kissed your forehead. "goodnight baby. I’ll let myself out and call you tomorrow, yeah?" he whispered.
you clung to him. "no channie, don’t go. stay with me, please."
he caressed your cheek, his thumb rubbing gently back and forth. "how can I say no to you when you’re so sweet?" he said. he removed his jeans and crawled into bed beside you, pulling you close to him, your head resting on his chest. "I’ll stay, but we’re just sleeping, got it?"
you sleepily nodded. "yes daddy." you said.
"I’m daddy now? fuck, baby. you’re not making this easy." he reached down to readjust his boxers before you drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
———
the next morning, you awoke to an empty bed. your head was pounding and your mouth felt like the desert. you sat up slowly, your ears ringing. you brought your hand to your head with a small whimper.
"oh, you’re awake." you looked up to see chan in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand and 2 small headache pills. "I figured you probably wouldn’t be feeling the best this morning," he laughed.
"you would be right." you said quietly.
"here baby, take this." he helped you take the medicine and placed the water glass on your bedside table. he crawled back into bed next to you and pulled you down to lay on his chest. he smelled so nice and he was so warm. you already felt a little better. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, placing a small kiss on the top of your head.
"so do you want to talk about last night?" he asked.
last night? what about last night? you tried to think back and realized you don’t really remember anything after the truth or dare game. you don’t remember going back to your apartment. suddenly embarrassed you ask: "what about last night? did I do something bad?"
he chuckled. "you mean you don’t remember what you said to me?"
panic was starting to set in. this is why drinking is bad kids, don’t do it. what the heck did you say to him last night? your mind was blank, a black void where memories should be. "no, I don’t remember." you tell him. "but I’m sorry for whatever I said. channie I was pretty drunk, im sure I didn’t mean it."
he was outright laughing now. the full on chan laugh that you loved so much, the one with the little squeak in the middle. you looked at him, confused.
he composed himself before he said, "so you didn’t mean it when you said you wanted to be a good girl for me?" he was smirking at you and you could no longer look him in the eye. your cheeks were hot with embarrassment. you buried your face in his chest, groaning. "you didn’t mean it when you called me daddy? that’s a shame, I really liked that." he said, quieter this time, a husky whisper.
You froze. No way you said that to him last night.. did you? You groaned again, gripping his shirt in your fists.
"Baby girl, look at me." He said. You shook your head no against his chest, unable to overcome the embarrassment. "No?" He questioned. "But I thought you were my good girl. I know you are baby, look at me." You felt his words in between your legs, a dull throb starting to form. You swallowed, and took a deep breath before shyly looking up and meeting his dark gaze. "There she is." He said quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear. "There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby." He tells you before he leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips. The kiss only lasts a second before he pulls away, but not far. He’s only a couple inches away from your face, his breath mingling with yours. He looks into your eyes for a moment, before kissing you again. This kiss is more intense, you can feel his desire for you. One of his large hands comes up to the back of your neck, holding you in place. You melt into the kiss and grip his shirt tighter. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, asking for entry. You part your lips slightly and his tongue finds yours. You whimpered into his mouth.
He rolls you onto your back then, never breaking the kiss. His hands are all over you, rubbing up and down your body. His lips move from your mouth, to your neck and he begins to softly suck on the tender skin there. You’re out of breath, trying to compose yourself but your lost in him. "Chan" you breathe out.
He makes a sound of disapproval against your neck. "Nuh uh baby. I’m not Chan, what am I?" He says before biting your neck.
You let out a small moan at the bite. Your brain is frazzled.
"I’m waiting, baby. You can do it." He encourages. His kissing is moving farther down, he’s at your collarbones now, his hands snaking their way up your shirt. His strong hands glide smoothly over the skin of your tummy.
"Da-daddy.." you choke out.
"Mmm." He slides your shirt up revealing your breasts, nipples hard with the cold air. "That’s my good girl." He says, before taking your left nipple into his mouth. You thought you might combust. Your body was hot, and your panties were soaked. his tongue felt amazing against the sensitive skin of your breast. you brought your hands up to tangle in his mess of dark curls, holding him to you chest, not wanting him to ever stop.
“so beautiful.” he mumbled against your chest before using his hand to guide your other nipple into his mouth. you arch into him, needing to be closer. needing him. you whimper, a pretty pathetic sound you must admit, but it slips out. he pulls away from your breast to look into your eyes. his thumb still works back and forth across your nipple, but his eyes are on you. his pupils are wide with lust, his cheeks slightly pink, his lips wet and swollen. “what’s the matter, baby? why so whiney?” he asks.
his intense eye contact makes you nervous. this is nothing new, chan loves eye contact, especially in bed. it was nice in the sense that you always felt seen, you always felt appreciated. but at the same time, it made you shy. it made you want to turn your head and bury your face in your hands. maybe that’s why he does it, because he loves to see you squirm under him. loves to see you blushing and oh so shy because of him. “need you.” you manage to say, proudly still making eye contact with him, even if your cheeks are on fire.
he hums, returning his wet kisses to the skin of your chest. “tell me about it.” he says in between kisses.
you whine again, your head so cloudy with nothing but him, words long forgotten. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, roughly, causing you to wince. “ah ah,” he tuts. “be good, baby. tell daddy what you want.”
his wet kisses and messy licks are moving further down your torso now, his hands squeezing at the soft flesh of your sides. you tried to breathe deep, tried to focus. he nibbled at your skin on the way down, until he was running his tongue all the way across the elastic band of your panties. you gasped at the feeling, your body covered in goosebumps. “you better answer me baby, or i’m going to stop.” he looks up at you through his long beautiful eye lashes, his lips still pressed to your skin but he was completely still.
“need you.” you say again. “inside me.”
he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and pulls them down your legs, tossing them to the floor. “inside you?” he pushed your legs apart, revealing your most sensitive parts. you felt so exposed. you tugged your shirt down, covering your breasts and what you could of your stomach. his eyes tore away from your dampness and flashed up to your face. he pushed your shirt back up. “don’t cover yourself baby, let daddy see your beautiful body, yeah?” you weakly nodded, not feeling beautiful at all, but doing as your told. he kisses his way back up your body to your face. he cups your cheek in one hand, the other supporting his weight as he hovers over you. his thumb rubs soothing strokes across your cheek. “you don’t have to be shy around me.” he kissed your forehead gently. “you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.” he whispers against your skin. “i’m so lucky to have you, baby. i’m such a lucky daddy, aren’t i? to have you all naked and spread out, your sweet pussy leaking onto the sheets.” you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh. he kissed your lips. “can i show you how beautiful you are? can i make you feel good, baby? are you okay?” you nod at him, you heart so full of love you felt it might burst.
he positioned himself in between your thighs, his face inches from your core. “so wet, honey.” he said gruffly. “you want me inside you? hmm?” you nodded vigorously, lifting your hips to his face. he chuckled at your eagerness. “my fingers?” he asks, bringing his fingers to gather the wetness, running his index and middle fingers up through your folds. you moan, squirming, needing relief. “be still, baby.” he says, before sliding his middle finger into your opening, slowly sinking it as far as he could. you gripped the sheets in your fists, your breathing erratic. he slowly started to pump his finger in and out of you, and then he leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit. he hummed at the taste of you, filling the room with the sounds of your wetness and the sound of his tongue drinking it up. you could feel your release building, the tension inside you about to snap.
“daddy-“ you moaned. “daddy- i’m close.”
he continued his ministrations, his eyes locked on your face, not wanting to miss a second of the pleasure your about to have. with one particularly harsh lick against your clit, your orgasm washes over you. you vision goes black, your body tenses, and you cum. you cum harder than you ever have before, your release coating his tongue, lips and chin. “fuck, baby. you’re so pretty when you’re cumming for me.” he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you. “my perfect girl.”
he straightens up, kneeling on the bed in front of you. he pulls his shirt up and over his head, before leaning back to rest his weight on his heels. he palms his erection through his boxers, sighing and staring down at you. he looked godly, absolutely ethereal, his chiseled body flexing, his face still wet with your cum, his chest heaving as he pants. your mouth watered. “think you can take my cock, princess?” he asks, pulling his boxers down, setting his cock free. it slaps against his stomach, red and leaking precum. he stroked himself, slowly, circling his leaking head with his thumb, spreading his precum. you were sure there was drool running down your chin at this point. this isn’t the first time you’ve had sex with chan, but you were always amazed at the sight of him. you always questioned what you did to deserve him. how was this man yours? how was he currently naked in front of you, having just given you the best orgasm of your life? what good deeds had you done to receive this karma? karma in the shape of a god.
“please-“ you whimpered.
“mmm. i like that.” chan moaned, rubbing his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. “beg for it, princess.”
“please, daddy please.” you begged. “need you so bad. fuck me, please. i’m a good girl. i’ve been good, daddy. i promise. please.”
he let out a sound that reminded you of a growl, a deep rumbling sound in his chest, before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. he gradually pushed himself all the way, until he couldn’t go any further. he remained still for a moment, letting you adjust to him. he leaned down and kissed you, sweetly. “i love you baby.” he whispered against your lips. he slowly pulled out and pushed back in. “fuck.” he moaned. he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “i love you so much. love this pussy.” he was thrusting faster now. your hands found their way to his back, his muscles flexing with each thrust. he kissed across your jaw to your ear. “you take me so well, princess. my perfect girl,” he panted. your pussy clenched at the praise, squeezing his cock. “that’s it baby, you gonna be good and cum for me?”
“yes, daddy. wanna cum for you.”
“fuck.” he moaned again, kissing down to your shoulder. his fingertips ran up your thigh, over your hip, up your torso, across your breast, coming to rest at the base of your throat. “do you remember what you said in the car?” he asked, his thrusts getting sloppy. you shook your head no. “you said you wanted my hands around your throat.” his fingertips grazed across your neck, down across your collarbones, and back up. he gently wrapped his hand around your throat, applying the slightest pressure to the sides. “like this, baby? is this what you want?”
“oh my god.” you moaned, pussy fluttering around him.
“mmm. you feel so good squeezing my cock. you’re gonna make me cum, princess. need you to cum first.”
you gripped his waist, feeling your high quickly approaching. he’s so good. you’re so full of him. his moaning in your ear turns to whines and you know he’s close. the thought of him about to loose control and come undone all because of you, is what finally sends you over the edge.
“channie.. thank you.” you moan, your pussy convulsing around him. “thank you. thank you.” you cry.
when a final moan of your name falls from his lips, you feel him release inside of you. so much that it leaks out around his cock, staining the sheets. his thrusts slow until they stop completely. he gently pulls out of you, and collapses on his back beside you, panting. you roll on your side, draping an arm across his stomach, placing a couple kisses across his chiseled jaw. he looks down at you, a look filled with adoration. he brings his hand to your head, smoothing your hair. “i love you.” he says, smiling sleepily before kissing your forehead.
“i love you too.” you tell him, burying your face in his neck, suddenly sleepy.
“we need to get you cleaned up, baby. we made a mess.” he chuckles.
“but i’m so sleepy.” you mumble into his skin.
“me too.” he admits. “are you okay?” he asks, rubbing your back in long, slow strokes. “was that.. okay?”
you snuggle closer to him. “channie, it was perfect.” you answer, before falling asleep, your head resting on his chest, his strong arms around you, his cum leaking out of you, forever loved and safe.
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an: admittedly, not my best work. but i love that scene of the boys playing mario kart? i can vividly see it in my mind and it’s so cute.
🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕
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littlemsshoney · 2 days
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Hannibal falling in love
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It is ridiculous how wrapped around your little finger he was.
From the first moment he laid eyes on you he found his new fixation. Every time you were in the same room with him his gaze was fixed on you, observing silently every detail, getting to know you before you were even introduced.
Of course he would be very careful, almost suspicious of any new person being added to his social circle. For a man obsessed with his social image he had to be cautious of any potential competitor and you were just lovely. So charming, well educated, funny, and polite.
He found you unusually enchanting. Of course he recognised your beauty but there was something less superficial about you that just pulled him in.
The feeling was known to him yet very rare as it never seemed to have a happy end. He knew he tended to be quite intense with his emotions and that never ended well so he promised himself it wouldn’t be that way with you.
It wasn’t long till you happened to be invited to the same dinner parties through common friends. How could he not observe you when you were sitting opposite of him only a few centimetre out of his reach? Every time you happened to talk he found the perfect opportunity to study you, the way you spoke, the way you smiled, the faces you made when you found something funny, stupid or ridiculous. You tried to be discreet not to offend anyone but he noticed, he noticed and he loved every expression your precious face made.
If you happened to sit next to him he would already know what perfume you wore, what scented shampoo you used everything. (And he wouldn’t mind doing some personal research about you beforehand)
With every joke of yours he found himself truly laughing and when you spoke his inner monologue quietened and he didn’t have to pretend to be listening because he actually did.
For a man like him who spent most part of his life stuck inside his head, building fortresses against the cruelty of people you quickly broke down everything while having him feeling so comfortable and at ease with you. You had him hooked.
Of course he noticed the way other people looked at you. Women and men with their envy and lust and he wouldn't be jealous if he only knew you were his.
During his sessions he found himself unable to focus on anything, his mind just replaying every conversation you two had over and over like a broken radio. Almost every night he was awake at the most unholy hours, his mind unable to rest and stop thinking about you. That was when he knew it was inevitable.
His insomnia and love for you he treated with writing love letters and sonnets, making sketches and drawings of you as he imagined you, all of them hidden and locked in the drawer of his office and his heart too.
Now not only were you dominating his every through but his whole life too.
He would take notes into his head of your interests and would say all the perfect things to keep you interested. What were your hobbies? Art, literature, music he would become an expert for you. He knew everything from Taylor Swift's latest album to the full analysis of your favourite poem. He would do and learn about anything you liked and was passionate about, just to keep you talking to him with that sparkle in your eyes. He could do it for hours, days and every minute for the next of his life.
I hope you don’t share your affections with anyone special because if he found out which he would, they would be the next missing person in town or worse.
When you became used to him and you got to know each other better he found his chance to invite you to one of his special dinners. Only that one would be even more special as you would be the only guest hence having his sole interest. He had one whole evening to amaze you with his culinary skills, deep, meaningful conversations about art, philosophy and life. At the end of the night he had you feeling it too.
And when the time came and you became his you and the whole world would see just how smitten he is.
He laughed with every joke, he listened to you carefully and everytime your name was mentioned he couldn't help but smile. Any little things that caught your eyes you would have and if you asked for the moon itself he would find a way to give it to you.
He didn’t mind, he actually loved it. That was love for him. He wanted to be your loyal servant and your beloved and feared god all at once. Could you give him this and he would give you the world.
If you didn’t however return his affections or god forbid you betray him that would be a very different and tragic(for you) story.
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hiraethwrote · 1 day
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your only competition - satoru gojo
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[ satoru gojo - f!reader ]
✧ summary: constantly trying to one up each other, youre always at each others throat. swearing you hate the other, neither want to admit that you might enjoy your time spent together. until... ✧ cw: academic rivals, some swearing, poorly written combat scenes (sorry), injuries, mentions of blood, bickering, some angst, slight comfort, no use of y/n, somewhat proofread ✧ word count: 5.0k
⋆⭒˚。⋆
Satoru Gojo was the best, in every sense of the word. Being the first sorcerer in centuries to be born with the Six Eyes definitely counted for something. And so he began to excel well beyond his classmates, fairly enjoying the spotlight that went with his rare abilities. Wasn’t it always nice to get recognition for your achievements? Satoru thought so at least.
Sitting alone at the top, he was sent on solo missions for curses his peers couldn’t face. That was, of course, until the day you showed up. He didn’t know it at the time, but that warm September day you walked into the classroom would be burned into his memory for as long as he’d live.
Everyone’s heads had perked up when an unfamiliar individual had paraded into the classroom, following close behind Yaga. You'd held your head high, hands tucked neatly behind your back while Yaga introduced you as the new student. It had to be a joke, Satoru had thought, a snicker playing on his lips at the sight of you. Gathering as much information as he could just by letting his eyes travel you, he couldn’t sense a single ounce of cursed energy, so why were placed in their class?
Your eyes shined with a childlike innocence, like you were totally unaware of the world you were all living in. One could feel you radiate a sense of hope that only came from being inexperienced. Oh, how hard the harsh reality would hit you once you were faced with what was out there.
After class, Shoko had yanked Satoru back into the classroom by his uniform, her eyebrows furrowed in a strict scowl. “I know what you’re thinking, Satoru.” He stared back at her with big eyes, pretending he didn’t know what she was getting at. “She’s been sheltered, we all saw it. So it’s important you behave!”
“I always behave.” He slumped over as he spoke, appearing more weakly to enforce his dumb act.
“I mean it, Satoru. She’s going to need our help.”
He took his index finger and drew an X over his heart. “You have my word.” His infamous smirk still danced on his lips, which made Shoko not believe him for a second. She knew there wasn’t much she could do if he’d already decided to tease you. With a disappointed shake of the head, she left him standing with his hands in his pockets.
Satoru kept his eye on her until she had turned a corner. The second she was out of sight, he darted in the opposite direction with a clear mission in mind, managing to catch up with you as you were walking down the hall to your dormitory.
“Hey, wait up.” With a curious look, you turned to the source of the voice that called your name. Pacing towards you, was a tall, lanky fellow with locks white as snow, the biggest shit-eating grin you’d seen in a long time, wearing a pair of characteristic sunglasses.
“You must be the one and only Satoru Gojo,” you said, mirroring his expression as you defensively crossed your arms over your chest.
“I see Yaga already told you about me.”
“No, not really,” you shrugged, your tone taking him by surprise. “But it’s not like your name is unknown in our world.”
“So what have you heard about me then?” He bent forward to be on your level, fishing for compliments, making you feel patronised.
“Don’t feel like inflating your ego more. It’s already dangerous walking around with a head big as yours.” Satoru instantly jerked back into a straight position, retrieving his hands from his pockets to regain a more dominant position.
“Well, aren’t you cute,” he said sarcastically.
“Was there something you wanted?”
Looking down on you, he began to wonder if you were putting on a face, intentionally giving off the impression of being reckless and empty headed. Therefore he had started to theorise the bounce in your step didn’t come from being inexperienced; it came from a film belief that you were better than what people gave you credit for.
“It not every day a new sorcerer joins us, so I’m just curious about what makes you special?” The self satisfied smirk was back on his face in order to seem unbothered by your snarky remarks.
“What’s it to you?” Fuck you, was the first thought that crossed his mind when you’d once again, shut him down. You weren’t giving him anything to go on, not verbally or on any level his Six Eyes could detect.
“We’re classmates now. A team — think I could benefit from knowing,” he said gallantly.
“You’ll know soon enough,” you smirked at him as you began to back away towards your room.
His smile slowly faltered, his eyebrows narrowing in frustration. “Good luck.”
“Sure, thanks,” you waved nonchalantly over your shoulder as you entered your room without another word.
Chewing the inside of his cheek, he still couldn’t pin point anything about you. The only logical explanation to having an ignorant demeanour whilst having a sharp tongue would be you were able to fend for yourself. Then why couldn’t he sense any power on you?
But as you’d said, he would find out soon enough. Even as soon as the next day, when you’d all met for sparring. It was like the higher ups had heard his prayers, because he had been paired up against you. His excitement didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who kicked him weakly in the shin to try and smother it.
“You go easy on her, mister,” she’d said so only he was able to hear.
“Don’t worry, Shoko. I’m not cruel. I’ll end it quickly so she won’t humiliate herself too much,.”
Once you were both firmly placed on your respective positions, both with a staff in your hands, he made sure to capture your gaze. “Are you ready for this, sweetheart?” His tone was as sweet as sugar, never breaking the eye contact as you both leaned forward in a bow.
“Are you, sweetheart?” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. He hummed softly at your comment, entertained by the attitude he knew he’d wipe off you the second the sparring started.
After being underestimated for years and years, you'd eventually had no choice but to learn how to use it to your advantage. You leaned into the role of an unintelligent girl who went into every situation without thinking. People became sloppy when they faced you, confident they’d easily take you out.
Satoru was no different. What was worse, was how he didn’t even try to hide how sure he was that you were weak. His smile said it all.
Yaga signalled for you to start, instantly tightening your grip on your staff before striking it directly at him. He was a little startled at how you immediately went for the offensive, but he swiftly dodged the attack just as you had expected. You exploited his dodge, by having the staff spin around before smacking him in the back of the head, stumbling over the foot you had strategically placed in front of him.
Tumbling forward, he finally managed to steady himself only to be faced by Suguru and Shoko standing on the sidelines, both choking back the laughter about to spill out of them. None of the three students had expected you to be so aggressive from the get go, let alone succeed at it.
He shook off the shock, not to mention the pain, from the hit before turning back to look at you. The playfulness had seized to exist and now there was determination written all over him. The corner of your lips perked up in a content smirk.
His staff came piercing through the air, you spun away in the last second before flipping the staff and deflecting his next move, trapping his weapon under yours. You turned to look at him and he didn’t like the mischievous expression plastered on your face.
“What are you playing at?” He asked with a small pant. Your smile only grew at the sight of his frustrated demeanour.
This was the part you loved, the moment you could see it in your opponent’s eyes that they had severely misjudged you. And in their epiphany, you knew they still wouldn’t be able to read you clearly. That being said, you were fighting no other than Satoru Gojo, who even if he couldn’t predict your next move, could be able to take you out regardless.
Suddenly, you felt your staff slip and glide against his. He quickly took advantage of how you’d put your weight on the staff. Before you knew it, you felt the impact of his staff slam against your back.
You found your footing before you reactively threw your elbow at his face. A scoff of surprise slipped out of you when it stopped an inch from his face without him doing anything.
“Asshole,” you breathed. This was the oh-so-famous infinity you had been told about, but you didn’t quite understand it or how it worked. It was no secret that Satoru was well on his way to become the strongest, but he wasn’t there just yet. So maybe you could give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he wasn’t a hundred percent in control of his infinity, that it had been an instinctive reaction.
Nevertheless, it was what you had waited for. You’d wanted him to be the one to resort to his powers first so you could shamelessly use yours.
His breath hitched in his throat when an overwhelming wave of unfamiliar power crashed over him. “What the-“ he didn’t understand what was happening. Was this your power, and why hadn’t he been able to sense it earlier? Had you really been able to block him out from getting insight in your technique?
He didn’t even realise what was happening until he was jerked into the air before slamming against the floor with immense force, landing on his shoulder. The room were quiet for a solid ten seconds before he staggered back on his feet before slow claps in your honour was heard from his friends.
“What the hell was that?” He panted, approaching you with quick steps as his hand rubbed circles on his shoulder.
“That was how you win,” you said in between heavy breaths, leaning your hands on your knees.
“That’s not what I mean,” he nearly growled. Before he was able to interrogate you further, a friendly slap was placed on his back.
“Just admit it, Satoru. She beat you,” Suguru said with a low chuckle. Satoru didn’t even flinch, he kept his gaze pinned on you.
“But you cheated,” he said with a displeased chuckle. You didn’t even entrain his comment, only turning away from him and starting to walk out of the gymnasium. “Hey, I’m talking to you. That last move was dirty.” You heard his footsteps hurry over to you again.
“How’s that?” Snapping around to face him, folding your arms over your chest. “By using my technique? If that’s the case, you’re nose should be bleeding right now.”
With worried eyes, Shoko and Suguru watched your bickering from afar, knowing exactly how this relation was going to play out. The loud argument in the gymnasium was only the beginning of your rivalry. Every person unfortunate enough to witness your public displays of hatred, quickly learned that both you and Satoru were extremely headstrong — maybe stubborn was a better word.
Both of you brought your petty arguing with you into the classroom the first chance you got. It became a never ending competition of who could answer the questions faster. And if the chance offered itself, you would instantly argue with the other person to the best of your ability. No one could tell if you did it to show off who knew the most, or if it was simply to humiliate the other. Either way, it got annoying fast.
Yaga had on several occasions tried to shut down the fighting, but had little success. You would both find one way or another to go at each other anyways. On one occasion, you’d gotten into a fight so bad that Yaga had ordered for the rest of them to leave the room and just let you two hash it out. He’d come back an hour later, only to see through the door crack that you were still going at it. He also saw how Satoru was fighting to let his smugness show, clearly getting a kick out of provoking you until you were red as a tomato.
“Are you really that stupid, Satoru?”
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, shut up!”
The only place Shoko and Suguru managed to catch a break was during sparring, when they would sneak out for cigarettes the second you and Satoru said the first word to each other.
In every session, neither of you accepted going against anyone but each other. After your first sparring match, Satoru was determined to win the next one, which he did. And how he had won would probably haunt you forever.
You were just about to win yet another match, but it troubled you that Satoru didn’t seem worried about losing. You had the staff pressed against his, sweat dripping down your brow. He was heaving as much as you, but a small smirk was lurking at the corner of his lips.
That’s when he cocked his head forward, revealing the pair of most hypnotising blue eyes you’d ever seen. You had no control of how your muscles relaxed and expression softened. As a soft sigh slipped out of you, he instantly saw his opportunity to down you, knocking the wind out of your lungs when you’d hit the floor.
You'd gone to bed fuming that night, the image of Satoru laughing and teasing you flashing behind your eyelids as you so desperately tried to fall asleep. You were absolutely mortified by the fact that he’d won simply by his appearance; no combat skill, no infinity, no technique, no nothing!
The next morning you got up at the crack of dawn in order to work out and prepare yourself for the next time you’d face him. Never again would you give him the opportunity to embarrass you like that.
Neither is you would probably admit it, but as the training went on, you both learned a lot from each other. Especially when you began to make use of your powers.
Finally you were starting to understand how the most powerful sorcerer functioned, absolutely astonished by the sheer possibility of it. But as you got to know him more, you also so that his powers wouldn’t have been nearly as special if it hadn’t been for Satoru himself. The extraordinary way he so casually carried himself despite of it all, you couldn’t help but admire it. Though you wouldn’t let him know that.
Satoru too, was intrigued by you because it was only during sparring sessions he was able to see what your cursed technique could be capable of. Outside the gymnasium, you kept the cards close to your chest, revealing absolutely nothing about yourself. But in here, you let that shield down. The power you held was so intense, to the point he knew you were definitely holding back on him — just as he was with you.
As the matches got more intense, Suguru and Shoko kept betting the same 1000 yen on who would win. Not only that, they both seemed to notice the growing tension between you, despite the fact that you said you couldn’t stand each other.
And tension there was, as right now. Satoru had his arm around your neck, pressing against your chest. You had your hands tugging on his forearm as your back was pushed up against him. Cursing his name under your breath, you fought the small smile that was sneaking its way onto your face.
The hair on the back of your neck raised when you felt him lean in forward, his hot breath agains your ear before he spoke, “think I like you in this position better.” If you weren’t so focused on trying to beat him, you would probably have paid more attention to the flirtation in his voice.
In a matter of seconds, you benefitted from his playfulness and reversed the roles where you had him pinned against the ground in defeat. “Don’t go soft on me now, Satoru. Ain’t going to be any fun here anymore if you make it too easy.”
“I’m just trying to get in your head.”
“Hmm, funny. Doesn’t seem like it’s working,” you teased before you stood up without offering him a helping hand.
Satoru had his eyes follow you the entire way out of the gymnasium, a genuine smile dancing on his lips. He quickly snapped back to reality when he heard Suguru’s voice.
“Satoru!”
Turning to look at his friends, there was no signs of the smile that was present just a second ago. “What?”
“We called your name like four times!” Neither of them looked pleased, Shoko with her arms crossed over her chest and high shoulders, and Suguru with his hands in his pockets.
“Sorry, was just lost in thought.”
“We can tell,” Shoko sighed as they both began to follow him close behind as he walked for the exit of the gymnasium.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Suguru teased, instantly earning him a tired scoff from Satoru. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious.”
“Give it a rest.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s a menace. You know I think so.”
“Yeah? Could have fooled us,” he shrugged in response.
“What do you mean?” Shoko and Suguru shared a quick glance in question if he was playing dumb or if he actually didn’t know what they were getting at.
“When you’re not seeking her out to argue, then you do not shut up about her.”
He tried to shrug them off. “Because she gets on my last nerve.”
“No, Satoru, you don’t get it,” Shoko interrupted him, clearly annoyed. “If you disliked her as much as you say you do, you’d think you would want as little to do with her as possible.”
“Everyone complains about people they don’t like.”
“Every once in a while, sure. But it’s all the god damn time!”
Satoru just shook his head, trying to shake off their accusations. “Whatever it is you’re getting at, you can drop it. You’ve never been more off.”
With a deep sigh, Shoko turned to Suguru with a stern look in hopes he could get him to realise how absolutely insufferable he had been since you'd arrived. The second they managed to peer him away from throwing insults in your direction, he went on to complain about anything you’d done. Your answers in class were stupid, your technique when training was sloppy, you had immense power but didn’t know how to use it.
But the absolute worst was when you and Satoru had been on missions. Seeing as the two of you were significantly stronger than the rest of them, you were often sent on more demanding missions just the two of you, on several occasions facing special grade curses.
When both Suguru and Shoko were present, there was only so much new information Satoru could provide them with. But if you were gone for a day or two, there was no shutting him up. He went on and on about whatever curse you met and went into detail about what you’d done to exorcise them. To anyone listening, it sounded like he admired every move you made, throwing in random, cruel remarks just to keep up the image of hatred.
“Look, if you can tell yourself you talk so much about her because you hate her, fine. But how do you explain the looks,” Suguru continued the discussion.
“Looks?” Shoko swore she could punch him.
“You can’t be serious?” He huffed.
Truth was, Satoru was fully aware of how his gaze lingered on you for a second too long. He knew he couldn’t help but smile whenever he saw you thrive in battle, whether in practice with him or on missions. And whenever your skin got in contact with his, he became idiotically aware of himself.
But he could never in a million years admit that. Not after being so adamant in his disdain for you. “You guys are reaching,” he said with his characteristic, cocky chuckle as he began to walk away. “She’s my only real competition. It’s only fair I stay on top of it so she doesn’t surpass me.”
His friends only scowled at him as he exited the gymnasium. “1000 yen they’re sleeping together in a month.”
“Nah, you’re winning that bet,” Shoko said with a defeated chuckle.
⋆⭒˚。⋆
Satoru couldn’t understand what had happened. He was only staring empty at Yaga, the ringing in his ears completely blocking out his words, feeling his mouth run dry.
The last thing he remembered was Shoko’s frantic voice on the phone, telling him to hurry back to Jujutsu High. He’d only ever heard her voice that panicked a handful of times before; she was usually so calm and collected.
He’d wasted no time getting back, being rushed by both Suguru and Yaga the second he had set foot within the premises. The first thing he’d noticed was Suguru limping and clutching his stomach while his lip was bloodied.
Oh no.
“You alright?” He’d asked weakly, as he has begun to place the pieces together.
Suguru simply nodded with a wince in pain. “I’m fine, but Satoru-“
“You both made it back, right?” He tried to smother the desperation in his voice.
“Yes, but-“
Satoru had already begun to zone out, realising what they were about to tell him. He knew you and Suguru had gone on a mission— a mission which was originally meant for you and him.
However, last minute the higher ups had decided Satoru had to go on a solo mission. Though he had tried to argue, they had been very adamant. The only deal he had managed to make with them was for Suguru to go with you so you didn’t find yourself alone on a mission intended for the two of you.
“Satoru.” Though somewhat muffled, he managed to make out Suguru calling his name again.
“What happened?”
Suguru struggled to form the words, only stuttering a few sounds before Yaga jumped in to explain. “The curse that met them was special grade, not first grade like we first thought.”
“Okay, but she should be able to-“
“Satoru, you didn’t see it. It was unlike anything we’ve faced before,” Suguru finally managed to form a sentence as he could hear the stress start to appear in the voice of his best friend.
“No, but you’re both strong. Next to me, you’re the strongest!” He was starting to get severely anxious, his heart beating faster and faster. It was only made worse by how they didn’t seem to give him all the information straight forward.
“She got me out first.”
“Wait, got you out first? Is she not here?”
“Satoru?” Shoko’s shallow voice drew their attention to her, as her head perked out the door. Slowly, she made her way over to them, genuine concern on her face.
“Can someone please tell me what happened?” He pleaded, turning restless by the way they were all looking at each other while he was still left in the dark.
“She managed to hold the curse at bay long enough for me to go in again and get her.”
“She’s stable for now, but I… I’m not sure when she’ll wake up.”
This couldn’t happen. You always knew what you were doing when you were out on missions. Never reckless, despite what one might think. You took every precaution imaginable, avoiding every risk that you might face.
So how come they were telling him that you’d taken one hell of a beating? He felt the only reasonable explanation was that this was a sick joke.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, before hesitatingly asking what he’d wanted since he arrived. “Can I see her?” Shoko simply nodded before leading him to the door, carefully opening it up for him. Slowly stepping into the dimly lit room, his eyes immediately landed on you.
The first thing to hit him was how he couldn’t sense your cursed energy, and not because you were blocking him out like you usually did. But you just felt weak, and he couldn’t ever recall seeing you so peaceful.
Laying completely still on your back, your covers only covering your legs revealing your bandaged torso, a tiny bloodstain seeping through. Your face was different shades of blue, evidence of the battle.
As much as both of you had faced strong curses before, you’d never been this beaten up before. He became a little nauseous at the sight, beginning to picture how every thing had gone down wherever it was you had been sent on mission.
He cautiously approached your bedside, scared that if he made any sudden moves or sounds that he would somehow make it worse, before sitting down on the chair beside you.
“I’m sorry,” he said, barely a whisper. The guilt had hit him like a truck, taking responsibility for not being there.
If he had wanted to, he knew he could have convinced the higher ups not to send him on that solo mission. And if so, he could have been there and helped— saved you.
Against all odds, through all the fighting and bickering, you had become a strong team. Neither of you would say it out loud, but somewhere along the line, you had both grown to care for each other. Satoru, however, hadn’t realised it until his breath had hitched in his throat at the sight of you so fragile.
As the days past, your wound healed and your bruises faded from your face, but you showed no signs of waking up. Satoru grew more impatient for each day that went by, especially when no one had any more answers to give.
“I’m sorry, Satoru. I’ve done all that I can,” Shoko explained desperately almost on a daily basis, but he kept asking everyday.
Day in and day out, he sat in that damn uncomfortable chair, only occasionally pacing around the room for two minutes to stretch his legs before settling down in the chair again. He barely slept, so adamant on meeting your gaze when your eyes finally fluttered open.
“You gotta wake up soon,” he pleaded to deaf ears. Three weeks of waiting had been pure torture. “I need you to come back.” A somber chuckle left his lips.
Reluctantly, he dared to carefully grab your delicate hand in his. It was a weird sensation, as the only time he had felt your skin was when you were in combat training. Now it was soft and tender, letting his thumb glide graciously over the back of your hand.
“Do I have to beg you?” His voice was so careful, like he wasn’t able to let it out in its entirety. “If that’s what you’re trying to make me do, that’s not funny.”
Still nothing. Not a twitch in your eyelids, not your lips opening to speak, not your nose flaring as you took the first deep breath waking up.
“Wouldn't put it past you,” a faint smile reactively found its way onto his face. “Just please. Wake up.”
Dead silence filled the room, his eyes locked on your small hand resting in his. He didn’t realise his eyes had actually shed a tear until it hit your hand, his own intense emotions surprising him.
“You are going soft on me, sweetheart.” Satoru attention shot towards you, barely making out what you had groaned out. Muttering your name in shock, a self satisfied smirk grew on your lip. “Water, please,” you squealed before breaking out in coughs. Scrambling out of the chair, he clumsily filled you a glass of water.
“You’re awake.” His voice was so light, unlike how you were used to hearing it. Usually there was always a smirk to sense in his voice, constantly smug. But now he was so gentle, as he carefully placed his hand on your back to help you up before handing you the glass. You were so used to having his hands throw punches at you, it was a delightful change when he tenderly placed his hand on the back of your head as you drank.
“How long have I been out?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat before sitting back down in the chair. “A little over three weeks.”
Your eyes widened, another small cough escaping you. “Three weeks—“ a low whistle. “Bet you’ve surpassed me by far now.” You were only half joking, genuinely upset that you might have fallen behind. But, to your surprise, he gave you a nervous chuckle.
“Uhm, n-no,” he said before clearing his throat, shaking away his uneasiness. “Not really.”
“Okay? What have you been up to this whole time then?” The weak smile on your lips gradually faded when it dawned on you. With adoration glistening in your eyes, his gaze met yours. “Oh,” you spoke hoarsely. “You haven’t really sat here all the time, have you?”
“No, I’ve walked around the room a few times.” Blinking rapidly at him, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. This only confirmed the suspicions you’d been too scared to even think, that there might have been stolen glances and smiles with intentions shared between the two of you.
Without mentioning it, he had intuitively taken your hand in his again. Your cheeks heating from the feeling of his compassionate touch, pleasantly surprised by how natural it felt to have him hold it.
“I should probably get Shoko-“ he was about to stand up, but tightened the grip on his hand to prevent him.
“Just-“ anxiously clearing your throat. “I feel fine, we can wait a little longer.” His eyes captured your glare and he had never looked at you with so much passion before, making your heart skip a beat. “Thank you for sitting with me.”
“Wanted to be there when you woke up,” a tired smile on his lips.
“I’m glad you were.”
“Me too.”
⋆⭒˚。⋆
a/n alright guys... "ill take a break from writing this week" im full of crap. so when I was 2k words deep, I rewrote the entire thing. then i just kept writing and writing, it never ended. i thought it was gonna be much shorter. had to perfrom some killing of darlings. when i finished it first it was like 5.3k words so.
reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated
plagiarism not authorized
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sehodreams · 6 hours
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cherry blossom scars
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TW and tags: tattoo artist!Wonbin x insecure!reader, surgery scar, pierced nipples, nipple play, mutual masturbation, tons of overthinking and word vomiting, corny as hell, fluff, kind of dom reader but not much.
WC: 9.3k
Comment: hi guys, I made brief descriptions of the scar, to be honest, I don’t have one or ever had surgery, so I’m not exactly sure how one would look, I just saw a couple of pictures on the internet and wanted to write something about it, hope it’s okay. I didn’t sleep at all to finish it because I knew I’d leave it in a draft if I didn’t write it in one go. Probably has mistakes and inconsistencies. I don’t know anything about piercings, tattoos, or early education.
While growing up, as weird as it sounds, summer was your favourite season. You remember a lot of things about it, how your parents would drive to the coast to spend the day at the beach, playing in the water with the friend your parents had agreed to take with you, and eating the most boring sandwich your mother could make in a busy morning that felt like a feast in your mouth after swimming for hours.
It was all good, until you started to grow up. Your parents had no time to take you anymore, your friends had better things to do, and you had entered the phase of your life in which you hated the idea of wearing a swimsuit if you weren’t perfect.
Perfection is, as you thought after a particular summer, simply not you.
Perhaps your mother hadn’t said it with bad intentions, she was your mother after all, and you were sure she loved you, but that little phrase had impregnated your head like the gum on your head one of the boys in class thought it looked good smeared on your hair.
‘’I don’t think you should wear this blouse doll’’ she said, showing you her selection instead.
‘’Why? I like it, and it’s too hot to wear normal shirts’’ you replied, feeling your arms sweat just with the simple action of changing into the clothes you were wearing.
‘’It’s just… the scar is showing’’ she said, pointing at the line that went from the start of your shoulder to the middle of your chest.
It was a long line, thick, slightly red and purple, noticeable from the way it would get deeper into your smooth skin, surrounded with thin little lines that looked like roots expanding to grow. You were just fourteen, not thinking much of it; actually, not even thinking about it until she talked about it.
You spent the summer with short-sleeved shirts, leaving all the dresses with thin straps and anything that showed your cleavage behind. You could, never again, wear anything that did.
It didn’t matter how many creams your mother bought, or how many treatments in clinics you received, it stayed there with you, like a mark of how fragile your body was, and how easily you could break with a simple fall.
You had gotten hurt after biking with your friends and making a wrong turn. You fell with a strong thud, and you don’t remember much about what happened that day anymore, because when you were conscious again, you already had the scar there. Less to say your parents banned you from riding a bicycle ever again.
So, it’s not difficult to guess why you hate summer now. You can’t wear the clothes you want, you’re a broke college student living alone with no AC, and you have to walk everywhere with the fear of getting a heatstroke.
To your luck, or disgrace, today you run out of clean t-shirts acceptable for the weather, and you simply refuse to wear a long-sleeved one, resolving to grab one of the thin straps that you usually wear when you’re alone in your room.
You don’t think much about it. You’re going to your friend’s place, and she should have a shirt to lend you around there. Still, not even the thought makes the journey bearable.
You’re anxious in your seat, listening to some podcast you had found about old music (you don’t know if to call it old since it’s the 90s, but your friends didn’t even watch programs that weren’t from your century, so to avoid all explanation you simply say you like old music), when you feel weirdly observed.
Looking in front of you, a mother is carrying his child in her arms, who is looking intensely at you. You smile because the kid is cute. He has big eyes, almost black, and chubby cheeks. He must be at least four years old, and when you wave your hand to say hi, he points at your chest. You know what he’s pointing, and you nod as if you explained everything with that move.
When the mother turns at you, directing her eyes at what her son is watching, and sees you, she smiles and then her face falls, almost as abruptly as you did that day from your bicycle, and she apologizes for her son.
‘’He didn’t do anything’’ you say, and she denies it.
‘’He shouldn’t be looking at you like that’’ she answers.
‘’Why?’’ you ask.
‘’Because…’’ she can’t finish her sentence. You kind of know what she refers to. Because you’re hurt, and we can all see it. You almost want to correct the words she didn’t say because the kid doesn’t look at you as if you were a monster, he’s just curious, while she is the one doing it.
‘’He’s cute’’ you say instead.
‘’Thank you’’ she answers.
‘’Be careful when he grows up’’ you say. ‘’Because…’’
Because he could look like me it’s implied, and the mother looks at you horrified, as if you had just cursed his son. She quickly gets up and presses the button to get off the bus with such desperation you feel bad for having talked more than necessary.
When you go back to your own thing, you notice something weird again. You lift your eyes, finding the seat in front of you, in which the mother had been sitting just seconds before, empty, and a man beside you. When you meet his eyes he smiles at you, a big grin with no teeth, he’s obviously older than you, with lines of age on his face, normal looking, almost kind, and then, in front of your face, he moves his eyes down to your chest.
Great, now you didn’t have to deal with people staring at your scar, now you had to deal with old men staring at your tits too.
You feel so creeped out by it that you get up and press the button for the next stop. It’s not your stop, but now you can understand why the mother was so desperate to get off. A creep, as normal as they look, it’s still a creep.
Walking the streets at a fast pace, you try to arrive at your friend’s place as soon as possible. You feel even more observed, perhaps it’s because you’re almost running at 36oC and you’re sweating your ass off, but you think it’s because of your uncovered cleavage.
The minute you arrive you start telling your friend everything, from the cute kid to the disgusting man, and she tells you that people usually act dumb, doesn’t matter how you look, people are just people.
‘’It’s their nature, they’re programmed to act like fools, especially men’’ your friend says.
‘’Well, they’re fucking disgusting’’ you answer, grabbing one of her t-shirts and sliding into it to cover yourself like you usually do.
‘’Boys will be boys’’ she finishes, and then she rushes you to finally leave.
You have to go to a pool party (a private party he has clarified), and you honestly would’ve refused on any other occasion, but Sungchan, the owner of the house and your friend’s boyfriend, was cool enough to not force you to go in when you said you weren’t fond of swimming, nodding in understanding as if you had told him the entire story tale of your life, which was kind of comforting.
Also, since he lives with his parents, he has AC.
At the party, a couple of hours later, when almost everyone is outside enjoying the water, you’re left alone in charge of the snacks and drinks, mixing shit as if you knew what you were doing.
‘’Could I have some of that?’’ one of Sungchan’s friends asks, pointing at the jug you’re holding. You nod, you have no reason to say no, and when he takes a sip of it his eyebrow frowns for a second before he smiles. ‘’Wow, that’s… good.’’
You know it’s not, it’s just rum coke with too much rum and almost no limes, to which you decide to add a bit of sprite to see if it does the gig. It doesn’t, but it could punch anyone into not asking for more and you nod content at the result.
‘’Thanks, I should probably make a career of it’’ you answer.
He flashes you a smile before he grabs a can of Coke to sip it. ‘’Sure, if your goal is to hook more people into going to A.A meetings’’ he says while opening a bag of salt and vinegar chips. ‘’I’m Wonbin’’ he smiles.
You tell him your name and serve yourself a cup too. You try to secretly add more ice to your drink, and he laughs louder when he catches you feigning you were getting ice for the whole jug.
‘’I’ll be honest, I feel like I’ve seen you before’’ he says then.
‘’Well, we’re kind of connected through the couple there, perhaps we crossed each other’’ your finger directs at your friend over Sungchan’s shoulders, laughing and screaming something you can’t understand with the music on out there.
‘’True, but not only that… weren’t you last week at the tattoo shop right next to the bookstore that sells old books no one reads?’’ he takes a sip of the drink with more ice, and he denies, adding the rest of the can of coke he had opened.
‘’Do you mean the Rip Tree? I mean, it’s not Barnes and Noble, but it does the job. I got a nice copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray for four dollars there, and they gave me a bunch of bookmarks for free. Of course, they had the publicity of a nursing home in the back, but I’m sure it’s a completely respectable place to read books at’’ you answer immediately, adding rum to the jug when he laughs so hard his head falls back and his eyes close.
When he leans more to the front and you see his arms flexing, you can’t help but suddenly feel conscious of how much you’re talking to a boy you have just met so freely. Maybe you’ve had too many trial drinks while you were mixing and it had started to get in your head without noticing, it wouldn’t be the first time, and sure wouldn’t be the last time.
He smiles at you with a closed mouth, just like the man you had met on the bus many hours before, but you like this smile. Wonbin, unlike the older man, looks at your face without trailing down.
‘’Well, were you?’’ he asks.
‘’Where?’’ you ask too, because half of the conversation you were having just disappeared from your head when you saw his necklace, almost as pretty as him, glint.
‘’The Ink, the tattoo shop’’ he repeats.
‘’Oh, well yeah, but I just went in because I was curious.’’
You’re lying. You hate lying, but again, you didn’t feel like telling someone you just met your whole life.
You had seen on the internet how some people covered their scars with tattoos, which honestly, seemed like a great solution to your esthetic situation. However, when you crossed the door all your bravery went to hell, especially when the gorgeous admin asked you to see it and then the next time told you that a skin-colour tattoo wouldn’t be possible in your case since the scar was too dark, and that a much better option would be to get one with colours. Obviously, she didn’t know your parents or your career, because who the hell will want to hire a preschool teacher with a colored tattoo? You could already hear the comments, you being so silly to try to cover a scar with a new one, and how improper was for a lady, a teacher, to have one.
He nods at your answer. ‘’Well, was it worth it?’’ he asks.
‘’What? Going in? I guess so, it’s a nice place, a bunch of colours and great walls, they have some interesting draws too’’ you say, also leaning and grabbing a few chips to eat while talking.
Your hand almost meets his when you reach the bag again, and you look at each other’s eyes. He smiles again and you get shy at being that close to him again, pushing your hand into the bag to pretend you didn’t feel your stomach flutter with that silly interaction. He lets you put your hand in first, and then he grabs a couple more, eating them slowly, looking as if he was thinking about something else.
Michael Jackson starts to sound in the background, and you bob your head as instinct to the rhythm.
‘’Didn’t take you for a Thriller girl’’ he says, tilting his head and grinning.
‘’Because I’m not, I’m a Rock with You girl, sometimes a Dirty Diana one too’’ you answer, happy to talk a bit about music you like. Your friends don’t like him that much, but they let you sneak a few songs into the shared playlist, and that’s enough for you.
However, you didn’t choose Thriller for this playlist.
‘’I guess you’re the Thriller guy then’’ you say.
‘’Yeah, I’m a failure’’ he stands, grabbing his cup and sipping before he continues. ‘’But I’d like to hear you teaching me something about him, so I stop being one.’’
Smooth Criminal, you think, letting him guide you to the couch.
While talking, you don’t even realize how much time has passed until you hear the laughs fall and some of Sungchan guests start leaving. The day is well behind, an orange sky out there at 6 pm, and you don’t want to go home.
Your friend had come with Sungchan to say goodbye to some people, and when she asks you if you’re tired, you say that you’re okay, just a little hungry. She nods and orders a couple of pizzas with Sungchan’s phone since hers is connected to the speakers outside.
There are only like 7 people left, including you and Wonbin, who decide to stay on the couch with you when another boy, Sohee, tells him that going to the jacuzzi to submerge his feet should be fine.
You don’t think much about what Sohee says, but you’re too cosy with Wonbin to even think at all.
‘’Won’t you ask why he said that?’’ Wonbin says when you’re alone again.
‘’None of my business’’ you say.
‘’I’m a bit curious though, if you don’t mind me asking why you would prefer to stay here in charge of the bar, because as much as I like your drinks, I don’t think you’re used to staying still in charge of things like this at parties.’’
‘’Well, you’re wrong about that, I enjoy being in charge a lot, and I can do it for many hours’’ you say, not noticing how odd it sounds. He looks a bit shocked at first, and then laughs hard. You can’t go back in time to correct yourself, so you laugh with him.
You start to think that maybe you can tell him, it’s not the end of the world, but you can’t even think about revealing something that deep to him. Well, it’s not that deep, you showed it to your friend literally the day you met her. You were in the cafeteria when you spilt your milkshake over your sweater, so you had no option but to change, and you somehow knew she would be your friend when she laughed and told you to grab her sweater if you were that cold, so you showed it to her.
Still, Wonbin is so pretty, even his teeth when he laughed were pretty, and you couldn’t imagine what he would think if he knew.
You don’t imagine a whole relationship with him to think about his opinion too highly, but there is interest, and you want to keep it there as long as you can.
Being your age and haven’t fucked a boyfriend under the light, you simply couldn’t feel comfortable enough to show it to a boy you barely knew and kind of liked.
‘’Just because’’ you say.
‘’I see’’ he says, knowing there’s something you don’t want to tell him. ‘’Well, a win for me anyways, I’ve learned a lot in just an afternoon’’ he says, making you sigh, glad he changes the subject.
‘’I’m glad I was able to tell you everything Wikipedia has about the most known person in the world’’ you haven’t even stayed on the topic for too long for him to learn something, you just said what songs you liked, then showed him some playlists and laughed when you had songs in common, mentioning little moments you remember while listening to them, like not being able to remember your lines in a school play when they suddenly put Beat It as background music, or playing The Way You Make Me Feel in the speaker when one of your friends wanted to confess to a girl (she rejected them so it’s banned from every shared playlist). You shake your head with a smile, not looking at him when one of his hands gets closer to you, resting behind you on the couch.
Oh, you say in your head. You don’t know how close you’ll let him get, but it feels so right.
You haven’t talked (kind of flirted, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself) with a boy that long in years. You kind of remember Anton from your Art, Music & Movement course with whom you went on a couple (unofficial) dates until he took an exchange program and had to leave for a whole year. Then you remember talking to Seunghan, a guy who gave you his spot in the queue for the bathroom at a concert and with whom you exchanged numbers after he bought you a really overpriced burrito, but he lived two hours away, and you had no energy or time to really be something. And then, then you got no one else.
The room is quiet, you notice. He’s not talking, and neither are you, so you fall into a comfortable silence. You hope he’s not tired yet, you’re not, but maybe your social battery has just died, so you lean into his side a bit more, letting your body relax and your head touches his arm behind you.
He looks at you with a small smile, and you start to inspect his face like you feel he’s doing with yours. He has dark eyelashes, thin, but they’re enough to mark his eyes, and they go well with his black hair. You also notice that his hair is shorter on the back and longer on the front, letting some locks fall around, creating little shadows over his face and covering the end of his eyes. He looks really good with the haircut, but you’ve seen him in pictures with Sungchan before, and he honestly always looks good.
Your eyes fall to his chest because you don’t want to make the moment awkward.
What he’s wearing is simple, a black shirt without sleeves that shows his well-toned arms, skin smooth, almost too perfect, and you can’t help but remind yourself how you’re not as perfect as him.
You doubt he has any flaw like yours, and you don’t mean a weird-looking mole or a scar that anyone could have from childhood, yours is different, too noticeable, impossible to ignore. His whole body was an uninterrupted harmony you couldn’t relate to.
Wait, you stop yourself from thinking too far away. What’s that?
You notice that there, in his chest, under the fabric of his tank top, there’s a bulge you haven’t noticed before, and it’s not his nipples, you’re completely sure of that.
Boys will be boys, and the words of your friend start to echo in your head.
You always hated that phrase. How could they all be so brute and inconsiderate of everyone else that weren’t themselves? The lack of respect to stare at your chest without a care of you disgusted you just hours ago.
And now, you start to ponder if, perhaps, in the end, you’re as brute as the man you met on the bus.
Poor Wonbin is finally filing the silence with something about how he had found a new band not long ago, giving you the exact same charming smile he’s had the whole afternoon, flirty but respectful, making you feel almost guilty from not being able to concentrate on the conversation, too busy trying to not stare at his chest.
You blink twice, trying to look at his eyes again.
It doesn’t work. You can’t ignore it.
It was impossible. They were there, standing under his shirt, calling for you to look at them.
Coughing, you move from the touch of his hand behind you, almost as if it burned you, and drink the almost pure water from the ice that melted in your cup.
You scold yourself. I’m not better than a man, you say in your mind before finishing the opaque result of water, rum and coke in your hand in one go, and then, not having anything else to distract yourself with, you bite the inside of your cheek to distract yourself with the pain.
‘’Sorry, am I boring you?’’ he says not much later, feeling the change in your behaviour.
‘’Eh?’’ you say, turning your body in his direction again.
You notice that his cheeks have a pretty reddish flush, and he stays still, letting you stare, waiting for you to talk. Without a doubt, he was one of the prettiest boys you’ve ever met, and in that moment, you were too dazed into him and his stupid pierced nipples to talk to him as easily as you’d been doing when you didn’t know about their existence.
‘’No’’ you finally say. ‘’I’m sorry, that was rude of me, I had other things on my mind.’’
‘’Like what?’’
You don’t expect him to lean even more into your space and show more interest in what you’ve been thinking about, making you more nervous for not being able to concentrate on another thing that wasn’t him and his pierced nipples so close.
It’s stupid, you can’t help but think. You’re treating him differently. You’ve changed after finding out he has pierced nipples, and it’s exactly what you don’t want to happen to you when people find out about your scar.
‘’Your cheek’’ his hand moves to your face, startling you since he hadn’t touched you that directly the whole night, and with his thumb he caressed the cheek you were obviously biting from the inside. ‘’Doesn’t it hurt?’’ he asks.
You gulp. ‘’Not really.’’
He hums, smiling even more when you move your eyes from his face to his chest, and then, after awkwardly blinking a couple times, looking down to your lap.
A strand of your hair falls out of the lame excuse of a hairstyle you tried to do (not daring to use a ponytail to a party and loose hair with the hot weather) over your face when you look down, and his hand moves on its own to accommodate it behind your ear, the pad of his finger slowly brushing a spot you didn’t know you like, making you melt with his touch like a popsicle in the street at 2PM.
 ‘’It doesn’t hurt either’’ he says. ‘’If you were curious.’’
Not understanding what he’s referring to, you give him a confused look.
‘’What doesn’t hurt?’’ you ask him.
‘’The piercings’’ he answers, laughing when your cheeks get red, and you shake your head to say no.
‘’I-‘’ I wasn’t looking at them, you want to say. It was just untrue, and denying something you’ve clearly been doing since you noticed them would make you look even more pathetic. So, deciding to be different from the shameless man who never apologized to you, you prefer to be honest. ‘’I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked at them like that’’.
‘’Why?’’ he asks, and you feel a sense of deja vu.
‘’It’s rude, to stare at your chest’’ you clarify. ’’At least, uninvited.’’
He looks as if he’s enjoying seeing you that embarrassed, almost as pleased as when you bravely talked to him at the bar, when you remember applauding your mind for creating fresh answers. At that moment, your brain seems to have suffered from all the rum you’ve had since you arrived, so it can’t change the subject or give you a quick joke to make the moment less humiliating.
‘’It’s okay, I don’t mind’’ he denies with a breathy laugh, hand moving down from near your face to your arm, sliding until he finds yours, interlocking fingers when he does. ‘’I invite you to do it, then.’’
‘’What?’’ your eyes become bigger and everything around you, mute.
You see his mouth moving and saying something like, I can show them to you, if you want, before he, not waiting for an answer, makes you stand with him. You can’t see what he says after that when he looks back to the crystal door separating you two from the others outside, and then without doubt he makes you follow him.
It wasn’t his place, yet he moved with enough confidence as if it was, dragging you by the hand to the second floor, a place you had never seen even with your constant visits to the place of your friend’s boyfriend. You always stuck to the first floor, not wanting to cross any boundaries with Sungchan, so you feel as if you’re seeing something you shouldn’t when on the second floor, after walking upstairs, you’re received with tons of family portraits showing you his childhood.
You don’t say anything, you let him move you until you both enter a bathroom you’ve never been to. Closing the door, suddenly you can hear again when you recognize the faint sound of music coming from downstairs and some people laughing.
‘’We have to be quick’’ you hear him say after he presses the secure of the door.
The bathroom is smaller than the one on the first floor, almost tiny. There’s only a sink and a WC besides, with a towel hanger under the light and a mirror over the sink. You can hear the vents working when he turns on the light, but you’re too distracted with his whole body trapping you between him and the sink, not giving you opportunity to put any space between you two, to care.
When he shows you a cheeky grin after you lean more into the sink to put a centimetre more between you, nervous of being there with him, close, and obviously about to do something you’re not used to do with people you’ve just met, you don’t care anymore.
His lips are pink and glowing after he licks them, and he’s too pretty for you to say no.
He moves your left hand to his covered chest, and you have to contain the surprised whimper your throat almost lets out when you feel the little thing that has caught your interest since you recognized it.
One of your hands is gripping the marble of the sink with force to maintain you sane, and it works, until he sighs when you flick it.
His face still has that cheekiness that you had understood, from your time talking, characterized him, but it was now mixed with desire, leaving behind the whole courtesy, making him look even better in front of your eyes.
You become needier, if he looks that good with just a flick, you can’t imagine how would he look if you two did more.
‘’Take it off’’ you urge him, not caring that the tone of your voice makes it seem almost an order.
The hand previously glued to the cold surface moves to the border of his shirt, feeling like a punch the warmness of his skin, pushing it up so he does what you asked faster.
‘’Shit’’ he grins, lifting his arms and allowing you to take it off for him. ‘’What happened to the timid girl from before?’’
‘’I’m not usually like this, I swear’’ you say. You want to tell him that no one had made you that eager before, even less with just a look, but again, you had never met anyone, especially a man, with pierced nipples, so he should understand your curiosity when you admire his naked chest and lick your lips before you look at his eyes again.
Growing up as a woman, you have seen firsthand how a good pair of tits could make the smartest and most respectful man a complete asshole. Even the most respectful men that you had gladly called your friends, have been caught by your always wary eyes looking at other women’s chests.
You don’t wear cleavage, so it doesn’t happen to you that much, but just that day a man did it on the bus, like a primitive caveman, a beast, and it’s so embarrassing that you’re acting like one of them in that moment.
Surely, Darwin would be especially disappointed with your regression as a human, but, in your favour, everyone becomes monkeys with the quantity of alcohol you’ve had that afternoon. Also, the weather has a lot to do too, because if it wasn’t that hot, Wonbin wouldn’t have been wearing a tank top, therefore, he wouldn’t have left his ample chest on your eyesight, and that has nothing to do with you. It was all climate change, so perhaps even Darwin would’ve forgiven you for wanting to lick some man’s nipples.
The rum in your system makes your mind babble nonsense and you have to shut your mind for a second. But you want to lick them so bad. You never thought you could fall that low, but there you are, in a bathroom only used to shit at, trying to not moan just from the sight of those pink nipples with little silver beams pointing at you.
‘’I believe you’’ he sighs with a smile, moving further to the wall behind him so you could see his chest better.
You can’t believe your eyes.
You can see the metallic object break through the pink flesh, two tiny spheres on each end of it to not let it move from its place, and you can officially say you have never seen anything that hot in your life.
Hypnotized by the way the object sparkles with the warm light above you two, you timidly move your index fingers to flick them again, making him breathe through his nose and bite his lip to contain himself.
‘’Do they feel good?’’ your curiosity, instead of getting satiated, is growing, and you have tons of questions appearing in your mind.
‘’Per se… sometimes, when I get conscious of them’’ he admits. ‘’But I usually have to touch them if I want to feel something’’.
You flick them again, to then grip them with your index and middle finger and, slightly, almost with fear, twirl them. ‘’Is this okay?’’ you ask, gulping the saliva accumulating in your mouth.
‘’Yeah, that feels good’’ he assures you, both of his hands going to your hips to maintain you in place while his head falls to the wall behind, and he closes his eyes.
You keep doing the same motion, loving the sighs that he leaves out and how a frown of pleasure starts to install on his face. At some point, his own chest is moving with how hard his breath has become, doing the work for you of tugging them while you hold them still.
His eyes are closed and his tongue salutes you when he wets his lips, pressing his hips against you. His boner is appearing there, pressing the mount of your abdomen, but you’re so concentrated on the image in front of you that you can’t care less about him using you to stimulate that area every time his hips push softly into you.
He looks so good like that. You can’t stop yourself from asking when, after twirling them harder, a particular moan leaves his mouth, making you wet. You’re not being touched at all apart from his hands marking your hips with his strength, but your sex was clenching with the pleasure you were giving him, as if those touches were gifted to you too.
‘’Can-Can I lick them?’’ you ask nervously.
‘’Fuck, don’t do that to me’’ his eyelids flutter and you stop all your movements, afraid you’re asking for too much. Shit, perhaps even he thinks I’m crazy, you tell yourself.
‘’Can’t I?’’ you ask, sad of him denying your question, or at least, what you understood as a denial.
‘’Don’t fucking stop’’ he says, one leg going between your thighs and bending it to touch you more. ‘’Do whatever you want honey, I know you’ll do it with care’’.
You don’t need anymore, and moving down your face to his chest, you look up at him with deer eyes, afraid of him stopping you again.
He nods at you, giving you the certainty you want to start doing it.
You’ve never licked another person’s nipples before, so you were unsure of exactly what to do, and remembering what your couple of partners have done before to make you feel good, you press the tip of your tongue over one of them, damping the pink tip and tasting the combination of the flavour of his skin and the metallic object.
Your pussy feels even better with the sensation of it in your mouth, stealing a moan from you.
‘’Shit, you like them that much?’’ he asked, obtaining a nod from you as a response. God, what would your friend say if she found you in that position? You feel sick for a second, but you quickly ignore that thought with the shake of his laugh inside his chest making you look at him instead.
‘’They’re really pretty’’ you say between laps, maintaining eye contact.
‘’Not as pretty as you baby’’, he praises you back.
You moan again with his words, and your eyebrows frown when you feel his knee pressing your cunt, feeling yourself dripping inside your shorts.
‘’You’re doing good baby, keep going’’ he smiles, making you happy with the idea of doing a good job for him.
It’s all so weird. The last thing you expected that day was Wonbin to have pierced nipples, even less, that you would be licking them in a bathroom. However, there you are, moaning while humping his knee and playing with one of the piercings while your mouth continues tasting the other.
Wonbin tastes and smells so good, you’re getting dizzy, as if his whole body was made from the sugar you needed to get completely drunk.
It’s all a bunch of frantic moves, you’re humping his leg while his hands push to the sink behind you, biting his lips hard at the sensation of your mouth drinking his chest.
‘’Fuck- that’s so good’’ his voice sounds in pain, and you bite the little mound in your mouth as you do with your cheek, controlling yourself to not hurt him, to what he shudders before his mouth falls open and a choked sound escapes his swollen lips. ‘’That’s enough, stop’’ he pushes you away, gaining a whine from you because you don’t want to stop, you want to continue, to see his gorgeous face break apart.
‘’Why?’’ you complain. His knee digs into you harder, and you move your hips more to the front as a response. He’s trying to control his breath, and you like how he’s looking at you, as if he was as bad for you as you are for him.
‘’I was about to cum’’ he reveals, and you can’t believe he just told you that, because the idea sounds so good you clench around nothing.
‘’Please, please’’ you beg.
Just minutes before you thought you were crazy for wanting to lick his nipples, but now you realize that you’re insane for wanting to see him cum like that. For needing to see it. You’re sure his cock is fucking pretty as well, and you want to see it spurring with cum so bad you don’t even ask before your hand starts to pull his belt open. He lets you, going to the hem of your shirt, and there’s when your whole euphoric state stops, and panic arises.
‘’No, wait, stop’’ you push his hand away and he lets you go immediately.
‘’What’s wrong? I thought-‘’ he doesn’t finish the sentence, clarity coming back to him too. ‘’Did I read things wrong?’’
He didn’t read anything wrong. You wanted to get even more intimate, but you’re scared. The light is on, and you can see him, which means, he can see you too.
‘’No, it’s just…’’ how could you say, please don’t get scared, or disgusted, I have a huge mark that goes from my shoulder to my chest that will never leave me alone, without sounding odd. You don’t think he’s ever heard or seen anything about surgery scars, from what you can see, he’s perfect in more ways than you can even explain. He’s handsome, yes, but his pierced nipples had added a touch of surprise to him, making him insufferably hot. He wouldn’t understand.
‘’What?’’ he asks, shaking you out of your mind vomiting sentences that make your insides stir with anxiety.
The moment is already awkward, the emotion and lust overpowered by your discomfort.
‘’I shouldn’t’’ you say, your words not making any sense since you can’t force yourself to tell him.
‘’You don’t want to continue?’’ he asks confused. ‘’I mean, you can change your mind, but I don’t get it, did I do something wrong?’’
‘’No, of course not’’ you say. ‘’It’s not you, it’s me.’’
Perfect, now you sound as if you were breaking up with him.
You can’t find the correct words. You’re sure what you’re feeling is perfectible understandable with how your parents had taught you that you shouldn’t just show it around, making you ashamed of it until you reached your vast age. But, you were a grown-up now, and you were about to be a teacher, how could you let your life be controlled by something you couldn’t change, even more, by something as banal as your physique.
You would be in charge of so many little lives in just a couple years, and you would never want one of them to feel ashamed of who they are solely because of their bodies.
You know what your mother did that day was wrong, but you know even more that you should start to change how you feel about it.
Also, you’ve talked the whole night, and if you were about to (probably) fuck him, you should at least make sure he wasn’t an asshole that found you disgusting by a mark.
Looking at him with pleading eyes, he stays silent, letting you take as much time as you need. You grab the hem of your shirt, and you want to sprint out as soon as your head starts playing the exact words you’ve heard every time you’ve gone shopping and tried on something that showed your skin. You shouldn’t.
To be fair, you correct that same voice, you’ve done a lot of things you shouldn’t, like entering a tattoo shop when your whole family and career were conservative as hell, or accepting a burrito from a complete stranger in the middle of the night in a concert, and you’re still alive.
His shoulders become smaller, and one of his hands goes to his shoulder, covering himself while his biceps show more.
‘’If it’s the piercings, I assure you I don’t have one down there, I’m not that brave’’ he laughs.
‘’What?’’ now you’re even more confused.
‘’Well, I know many don’t like them, I thought you did, but I could be wrong’’ he blinks like you do when you’re nervous, and you have to shake your head before you talk again.
‘’Wonbin, I was moaning while licking them just a second ago, I think that’s enough proof of how much I do like them’’ you say suddenly surprised with the way the confident guy you’ve been talking to the whole party has changed to a shy version of himself. You can’t seem to let him feel the problem is him, so you take all the courage you have, pull up your shirt and toss it to the floor, just like Wonbin did.
You’re wearing the top of a swimsuit, because even if you weren’t going to swim, you didn’t want to stay out of the theme. The thin straps don’t hide anything from you, and you leave the insecurity of your life on full display.
He looks at you and blinks.
‘’So, you want to continue?’’ he asks.
You blink, not believing that he’s not making any question about it. Your first boyfriend asked you desperately what had happened to you, expecting a sad story with tears, and you didn’t feel like receiving that pity look again, so you never fucked him, or anyone, in daylight ever again.
You also broke up with him after fucking two times.
‘’I mean, I want to, but don’t you have any question?’’ you ask unconvinced. Was he ignoring the elephant in the room or were you to pretentious to think everything was about your mark and everyone would focus on it your whole life?
‘’About what?’’
You start to feel stupid (which was probably right).
‘’Is my scar… okay to you?’’ you ask then.
‘’Why would it not be? I’ve seen it before’’ he says.
You lift your hand to stop him. You have to stop everything from moving forward in that exact same second.
‘’What do you mean you’ve seen it before?’’ you can’t believe it. You’ve hidden it so well some of your friends have never seen it in years of friendship. You’ve hidden it so well that you have family that has never heard of your fall when you were a dumb child who obliged their parents to take off the training wheels before they learned how to fully drive a bicycle.
‘’I’m a tattoo artist at The Ink. The admin sent me a picture of it to check if I could do the nude tattoo. I told you that I saw you there. I wanted to talk to you to convince you to a coloured one, but you had left when my other appointment ended.’’
He says it with such calm you can’t help but feel calm too, even if incredibly dumb at the same time. He didn’t look like usual tattoo artists, he had his arms empty, like blank canvases waiting to be painted, and you had to be honest, you imagined them all to have no empty space in their bodies.
Where was the tweety you imagined them all to have?
You nod, understanding. You’re such an asshole, you’ve done to him everything you didn’t want people to do to you. You’ve judged his appearance, his career, everything out of the stupid traditionality of your ideas.
 ‘’I see’’ you say, and he smiles.
‘’Did you think I would push you away the second I saw it? As if it was a scarlet letter?’’ he says with a breathy laugh, as if he found funny how dumb you were for thinking it was a problem.
‘’First, I didn’t know you read. Second, well yes, don’t laugh at me, I’m all vulnerable and almost tits on air’’ you say, looking at his chest to distract yourself from the shame. At least, you think, it’s not because of your body anymore.
He laughs louder, getting closer to your body and leaving his head on the space of your neck and putting his hands over yours, which were gripping the surface of the sink. It feels like a hug, but you doubt it could be described as that when he wasn’t wrapping you with his arms. He was just there, close, chest to chest, pressing his hard piercings against your flimsy bikini top.
‘’I have something to admit though’’ he says after a second.
Of course, there was something, everything was too good to be true. You sighed, nodding and giving him permission to say it.
It’s weird. Looks a bit ugly. It’s hard to digest.
‘’I think it’s really pretty, especially the color, it reminds me of cherry blossoms.’’
You swear, Wonbin can’t stop surprising you.
‘’Shut up’’ you smile shyly. He moves apart and when he sees you becoming all timid again, he cups your chin and makes you lift your eyes to him.
‘’I have a scar too, although not as pretty as yours’’ he says, moving the locks of hair covering his left eyebrow and showing you the nude line there.
You press your finger there. He’s a bad liar, not because he sounds unconvincing, but because what he said is blatantly not true. His scar is prettier, so much that it looks as if it had been done in purpose to make him look more handsome.
‘’Dumbass’’ you smile, pressing the pad of your thumb over his almost perfect eyebrow. If you’re honest, it looks perfect to you.
He uses your distraction and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You can’t react to it when he’s already away.
‘’What was that?’’ you laugh loudly, finding him adorable.
‘’A kiss, I hope’’ he answers, smiling so wide you see his bunny teeth.
Fuck, I like him, you think.
You kiss him again, this time for longer, so it’s a real kiss.
His hands go play with the straps of your top and you move your hands to your back to undo the knot holding it in place.
When you let it fall, he admires you like you did to him before. His hands, bigger than yours, go to your chest, playing with your nipples, to then go higher and follow the trail of your scar.
‘’I would die to draw flowers over them’’ he comments, index drawing the line. ‘’It would be a good branch’’ he notices. ‘’The flowers would be blossoming, at their best point, full of colour’’ he sighs, eyes dropping as if he was getting hot with the mere idea of tattooing your skin. His middle finger touches the little lines that move outward, like they’re born from the thick, uneven line. ‘’It would be a perfect tree’’ he finishes.
You’re getting wet with the image he plants in your imagination. It blooms in your sex, which is getting more wet with every second that passes. In your ears, he’s singing the hottest song you’ve heard in your life, watering the seed he had buried in your mind.
‘’I want to be a teacher. I’d get fired if they saw it’’ you lament.
‘’Don’t think so, every student would think you’re the coolest person around’’ he whispers. One of his hands goes down your abdomen, cupping you over your denim shorts and pulling a soft whimper from you. ‘’Just like I do right now.’’
 ‘’Welcome to the fan club,’’ you shake your head, opening your legs a little more, unnoticeable, and then punching his chest. ‘’You’re such a simp.’’
He grabs your hand and maintains it over his chest, cupping you harder to feel how wet you’re getting. He’s not touching you directly, but he knows you’re wet under all the clothes, and he smirks proudly. ‘’What can I say baby, you rocked my world.’’
You can’t believe he’s using one of your favourite songs to turn you on. He didn’t need to. You’re so wet you’re sure your bikini bottoms are drenched and it’s probably reaching the hard fabric of your shorts.
‘’Shut up’’ you order, touching his clothed erection and unfastening his belt. The metallic sound of it echoes inside the small room, covering the sound of the vents and your throat gulping the saliva accumulated.
‘’So, you do enjoy being in charge’’ he clicks his tongue, smirking. ‘’Now I just wonder how many hours you can boss me around.’’
‘’You said we have to be quick’’ you remind him, pulling down his zipper and smirking too.
‘’You’re right, sadly we’re not alone’’ he agrees, doing the same action with you. ‘’We’ll take out time the next time.’’
His fingers finally touch you directly, sliding a finger between your lips, gathering the wetness that pools there. You almost roll your eyes, feeling the quick touch over your clit electrifying. Still, you must have the last word. ‘’Bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time’’ you say like you can, hand going inside his trousers too.
He groans when you touch his cock. It jumps inside your grip, making you smile until he talks. ‘’With how wet you are, I’m sure it’ll be soon.’’
You want to say something even more cocky, but you can’t answer when his fingers press your clit again. You’re sure you’re making a mess inside your shorts and that you’ll be fucking uncomfortable downstairs, but if you’re going to go around with your clothes all dirty, he should do it too.
Playing with the head of his cock, you have to contain yourself from pulling down his underwear to catch the sight of it naked. The skin feels soft in your hand, and he’s so hard that, when you press it, you feel what he’s made. You’re sure he has a pink tip, just like his nipples, and that seems to drive you a bit more insane. The picture you create in your head is nearly orgasmic. His hard coke, with its thickness and bloody colour, angrily pointed at you for being the cause of its pain.
This is really something you shouldn’t be doing. You shouldn’t be giving a boy you just talked to that day a handjob. It’s so nasty and improper, much more than your scar or any tattoo you could get done.
When you use those adjectives, you notice, that you’re mostly referring to yourself. Could you see Wonbin as nasty and improper? He has pierced nipples, but you thought they were incredibly hot, not to be described as those words, or to be categorized with you.
‘’Your pussy is dripping so much. I want to lick it until I drown in it’’ he sighs, fingers smearing your juices and making a wet sound. ‘’You’d come in my mouth so good, I’m sure I’d be able to taste you the whole night.’’
Oh no, he is nasty and improper, just like you.
Your hand is a bit dry. The only thing helping you touch him good is the little pre-cum you’re using as lube to slide your hand. You spit in your hand while maintaining eye contact, and his grin gets wider, as if he’s glad he has found someone as sick and perverted as him.
You’re not, you try to convince yourself, but you know there’s no use. You were licking his nipples as if your life depended on it moments ago, and you’re sure you’d do it all over again.
Remembering they’re there, at your whole disposition, your free hand moves to touch one. You play with the beams, flicking it up and down, to then pull them. He groans harder when you do it, and you feel his cock get somehow thicker, but instead of loosening your grip, you tighten it and jerk him faster, touching the tip and the base so fast he hisses.
His hips move when you suddenly stop your hand, and you smile, liking how desperate he looks. He notices it, so to erase that smudgy grin, he plugs two fingers inside you, obliging you to part your lips with the sensation of him filing you and the sound of your pussy squelching. His fingers are long enough to shock you, and the pain of pleasure building is starting to hit you as much as him.
‘’Let it free, please’’ he asks nicely. He’s so polite and looks in so much pain you want to do it, but you’re sure that, if you asked the same, he wouldn’t comply your begs.
A dark spot is appearing in his black underwear. You can see it with the orange light on. He’s also sweating so bad with the temperature of the room that you see a drip fall from his damp hair to his neck and die on the bone of his clavicle.
You want to lick that place too.
‘’Don’t want to’’ you say, doing the fast motion again, making him grunt.
His fingers move faster too, pushing a bit down your shorts so he can finger you better. It sounds almost like a dessert, and you moan when he curls his fingers. Fucking tattoo artist with talented hands.
‘’Don’t be mean or I’ll be even worse’’ he warns you.
You twist his nipple harder, and he whimpers.
His hands are ferociously fucking you, two fingers deep inside you and his palm brushing your clit, making you wish you had the liberty of cumming without consequences.
You do it too, you keep his pace, moving your hand up and down, not thinking much about it, just following him. You’re the one touching him, you’re the one being mean while jerking him off inside his trousers, yet it feels as if he was the one commanding you to do so.
He starts thrusting the hold you have on him, simulating the force and speed he’s using to fuck you with his fingers.
‘’You’re so bad, the next time I’ll make you beg for me to use my tongue on you’’ he painfully says.
You’re getting closer, you feel it coming. Your pussy is already dripping what you feel as your close orgasm, and so is he with the twitching of his cock, you just know it. You frown, mouth open, and you don’t analyze your question when you do it.
‘’Why would I beg?’’ you innocently ask.
He doesn’t have to say anything. He opens his mouth, flashing you the silver ball in his rosy tongue, and you lose yourself, cumming with a silent moan and shaking legs. He does the same. Feeling your orgasm splashing his hand, he shoots his cum, marking with the marbles more than one spot in his underwear.
You finally pull down his underwear when you feel he has finished cumming, and you see, even if not as hard anymore, the prettiest cock you could’ve imagined. To fuck with him, you spread his cum along his softening shaft, and he does the same with you, sliding his fingers a couple more times before he takes his hand out. Watching it glossy and drops sliding down to his wrist, he looks at you and licks them before they get to his forearm.
You’re both a couple of nasty, improper, sick and pervert people.
Not much later, when you’re both getting decent again, he talks. ‘’Come to the studio, I’ll give you the tattoo’’ he says with a drunk voice. You’ve cleaned as much as you could with toilet paper, and you meet his eyes in the mirror. He’s behind you, knotting your bikini top for you, and looking extremely placid for doing it, as if he was still in the haze of the moment. ‘’Of course, after that, we should go on a date too’’ he says more firmly than his previous offer.
He’s perfect and imperfect in so many senses: he has rosy delicate lips, yet he has uttered the nastiest words you’ve ever heard, he has shaped eyebrows, yet a scar interrupts the harmony of them, and he has the beauty to attract anyone with all his odds, yet he chooses you.
No, he is perfect for you, just the way he is.
You’re still in the blissful state of your post-orgasm, kind of there and at the same time far away, so you don’t even think twice before you nod at his proposal.
‘’We should.’’
When you both eat the remaining cold pizza, he rests one of his hands on your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side, nodding when you tell him that cherry blossoms do sound good.
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ms--lobotomy · 21 hours
Text
So happy you all are liking my Mertarion fics! Here's your food for the day. [Previous]
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Summary: You learn to care for the big funny mermaid in your pool.
Word Count: 1016
Content Warning: Mention of the United States, mentions of eating live fish, infodumping about a topic that i find very interesting,
Image Credit: @squishyowl
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The supermarket was crowded this Sunday with a selection of well-dressed denizens of your city. It must be the after-church rush. You felt most underdressed for this trip to the store. The line for the checkout was long, and the man behind you sighed as he checked his phone. The music was blaring loud, and you could hear it through your headphones. The cashier raised an eyebrow at you as she slid the last tray of salmon across the scanner.
"Cookout," you said, taking one of your headphones off of your ear.
The cashier stuck out her lower lip and nodded, sticking the tray in the last of your reusable bags. "Have fun at your cookout," she said. You winced at the total in front of you as you put your card in the card reader. Groceries were expensive already without a giant merman in your pool. It chimed, and you took the card out.
"Have a nice day," said the cashier, and you exited the store and hurried to your car.
...
"You told me you like salmon?" you asked, your lower legs dangling in the cool water. "How do you even get salmon? There's no wild salmon in the state," you said, throwing a cut into the pool.
He took it, putting it in a death roll not unlike an alligator would its prey. His teeth were sharp, his pupils (from what you saw, at least) a straight line on his eye. He splashed saltwater everywhere. You squealed, throwing your forearms in front of your face through the worst of it.
"Mortarion, careful, your stitches..." you muttered before he soon stopped his activity.
"Force of habit..." he said after swallowing his first bite of salmon. He had the fillet in one hand and was grabbing at the deep blue tiles that lined your pool with the other. You noticed him running his fingers along them, and smiled slightly. He took another bite and swallowed. "I would much prefer live fish, but this will do."
You shuddered at the prospect of feeding a live fish to the merman in your pool. Where would you even get one? Typhus spent a lot of time at the beach and you would see him there when you went on your off days, but you weren't going to ask him anytime soon.
Meanwhile, Mortarion pulled himself out of the pool a little bit to look at you. "You do not eat live fish?" he asked, his eyebrows raised and his green eyes widened.
"Oh, absolutely not," you muttered, running a hand along your other forearm.
"Oh," he said, genuinely taken aback. "You are a strange one, for sure."
"It's my entire species, actually..." you trailed off. "Unless, you're kind of weird, I guess? I mean, there's weirdos online who eat raw meat but I doubt they'd eat--"
"None of you eat live fish?" he asks after swallowing another bite of fish.
"No... sorry."
He looked at you incredulously. He moved his hand along the side of the pool, towards your dangling leg. He brushed his finger against its side, and you felt your heart beating in your chest much more palpable than normal. As you inhaled sharply, he retracted his hand, looking away briefly. Blood rushed to your face and you looked towards your plants.
The two of you sat in awkward silence for a moment as he finished his salmon before you caught sight of two orange butterflies in your yard. They flew around each other, tumbling through the air before one of them stopped at the passion vine that adorned the trellis and the other flitted around it.
"Oh!" you shouted, eager to fill the void with light conversation. You pointed at the two little beings by the plant. "Look! Butterflies!"
Mortarion's eyes shot towards your little friends. "That's what they look like," he remarked. "I did not expect their wings to be so... extravagant."
"Oh, I think I forgot to mention that," you said, your face going warm again. "Well, that's a Gulf Fritillary. Some people call it the Passion Butterfly, but my mom always called it the first one. Oh, oh! Can you see the iridescent spots on them? They're a little far..."
He nodded. "They have little black borders around them."
"Oh, you can see those?" you asked, your eyes going wide. "I can only see them when they're really close." You let out a slight chuckle before looking down at him. He was awestruck, to say the least. His eyes were trained on the small bugs. His tail swished in the pool, and the rest of him was as still as a statue.
"I have never seen creatures such as these," he remarked after a little while.
"Well, there's plenty of them to see here, especially this time of year," I said. "You see that plant over there? That's a passion vine, it's a host plant for more than one species of butterfly. The Zebra Longwing actually competes with the Gulf Fritillary for this plant!" The butterflies had been moving along the plant, trailing lower and lower.
Mortarion's eyes were still trained on them. "What's the Zebra Longwing like?" he asked.
"Slightly smaller," you said, shifting slightly at the poolside. Your leg brushed against his hand again. Your eyes widened and you tensed up. He turned around to look at you, and you relaxed. He wasn't here to hurt you.
"Is... is that okay?" he asked, his voice low yet raspy.
You nodded, slowly at first before your movement became more vigorous. "It is," you said, lowering your hand to touch his. His eyes widened before he looked up at you.
"Care to join me in the pool?" he asked. He shut his eyes before opening them, looking around almost in terror.
You looked down at your outfit. Shorts that were neither too long nor too short, and a white tank top with a red design stenciled into it. You got up, and he retracted his hand, still staring at you.
"I would love to," you said. "Just let me get changed real quick."
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Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf
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alphajocklover · 2 days
Text
Possessed by the Power of Thor
**hey guys! This story was requestioned by someone in my dms who prefers to remain anonymous. I still wanna give them a shout out for helping me refine the story and challenging me to try something new. I’ve never done anything with macro or giant growth before so here goes nothing! Hope you like it!**
Ronald Blake loved superheros. He absolutely adored them. That might not seem so unique at first, after all most nerdy teenagers love superheros. Hell with the movies and the popularization of what was once considered fringe, geeky culture, most people loved superheros. A lot of jocks liked superheros. But Ron was absolutely obsessed. His bedroom was a shrine to his favorite heros, with posters and shelves of memorabilia covering the walls. His meticulously cared for comic book collection took up 3 closets, and was only allowed to be read with gloves. Ron would spend every day in his room, reading and rereading comics, dissecting how they worked and the tropes they used. Ron’s favorite superhero was Thor, the joy of almost sharing a name with his original secret identity (yes Thor had a secret identity once, as Ron will happily tell you) having sparked a lifelong love of the character. Normally none of this would be a problem. Sure Ron was fairly obsessive, but a lot of people got that way about their hobbies. The issue was that Ron used comics as a way to avoid life. Ron was, to put it crudely, fat and shy. The 19 year old had been overweight as long as he could remember, and though he had plenty of online friends, could barely talk to other people in person. He spent almost every day holed up in his room, losing himself in the fantasy of his comic books to try and forget how depressed he was.
That's what made the fact that Ronald was outside today so surprising. Usually the only time Ron left his room was to see his mom or to go to a convention. But today Ron was after something special. He had found someone selling a perfect replica of Thor's hammer, Mjolnir. There were plenty of people selling replicas like that, but this one was incredibly cheap, high quality, and even came with a base that it would be stuck to unless someone used special gloves to remove it. It was literally perfect and so cheap that Ron couldn’t resist. Normally he’d be more suspicious but the sellae had great reviews, and the pictures of the replica were many and detailed. Still he had insisted on seeing it in person before buying it. Ron had expected to open the door to find a fellow out of shape geek excited to show off his latest work and get some money. What he found instead surprised him. The man towered over Ron, and looked more like he belonged in a gym than talking to someone like Ron. He grinned confidently and greeted Ron with an incredibly firm, manly handshake.
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“You’re Ron right? Ronald Black?” He asked with a charming grin
“Uh, B-blake actually. R-ronald Blake.” Ron said, shaking off his shock. The jock in front of him grinned wide before continuing.
“Like Donald Blake from the earlier comics. I guess it’s fate that you’re buying the replica. I’m Clark, Clark Keen.” Clark said with a charming grin as he hesitates for Ron to come in
“Like Clark Kent. That’s a c-coincidence. T-though you look more like Superman than I do like Thor…” Ron said with a slight self deprecating chuckle. Clark didn’t seem to notice
“Thanks man! I spend a lot of my free time working out. Muscle helps a lot when you're making things out of metal.” Clark said with a grin as he led Ron to his backyard “Now, there is something I have to tell you about this replica. The reason I’m selling it for so cheap. It’s… flawed.” Clark admitted. Ron’s heart sank to his chest. “I would have told you online but by the time I realized I hadn’t included the mistake in the seller info you were already here. See, the guy who engraved the writing on Thor's hammer made a typo. A big one.” Clark said. Clark opened the door, and revealed the hammer.
It was an incredible replica. Detailed, made of quality, lightweight, but realistic looking materials. Despite its intricacies it still looked just as intimidating and strong as it was supposed to in the comics. Ron could swear he even felt an aura of power coming off of it.
But the inscription was… off. It was supposed to say the phrase ‘Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.’ There had been some small changes to it throughout the years, like making the he into a she when Jane Foster became Thor for a while, but that was the original words, the iconic ones that had lasted through the years.
That wasn’t what the hammer said
It read ‘Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall BE POSSESSED BY the power of Thor.’
Ron was devastated. He thought he had finally found an amazing cheap replica of his favorite comic book weapon, only for it to have a huge flaw. Sure it was a simple typo, but memorabilia like this was all about the details. It would be the first thing all of his online friends noticed. Clark could see the heartbreak on Ron’s face and tried to soften the blow
“I know it’s a bummer, but it’s still quality work. You’ve come all this way, why don’t you at least hold it. See how it feels in your hands.” Clark suggested. Ron was skeptical… but he might as well give it a try. Maybe he could ask how Clark made it. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Ron went over to the hammer with a strange sense of trepidation. As he wrapped a hand around the handle of the replica and lifted it up, he felt… strangely accomplished. He knew it wasn’t actually Mjolnir, that being able to lift it didn’t actually mean he was worthy of anything, but he allowed himself to lose himself in the fantasy and feel proud. That was until a horrible shock surged down his arm, causing Ron’s arm to seize up. He groaned in pain, and tried to drop the large hammer, but was unable to let go. What was happening? He felt like he was being electrocuted. He looked over to Clark in a panic, only to see a satisfied grin on his face. Ron began to panic.
“W-what did you do? What is this!?” Ron asked in fear. Clark calmly walked over to Ron, grabbed his hand, and led the disoriented man out to his backyard as he explained.
“See Ron, you may not know it but you’re a very lucky person. You live in a world without supervillains. Sure, you have your own issues, but you aren’t terrorized by city destroying monsters in shitty masks. Not every reality is so lucky.” Clark said cryptically, before continuing “There are worlds out there, other realities, that need heros. I find these world heros. Or, if there aren’t any to find… I make them.” Clark explained. Ron felt another shock wrack his entire body, like electricity in his veins. He was so consumed by his pain that he barely noticed as he began to grow, shooting up in height until he was an inhuman 10 feet tall. His shoulders widened to span more than 3 feet between them. Simultaneously, his fat melted away and the space it had occupied and more was soon taken up by enormous bulging muscles. They each grew to inhuman proportions: biceps alone like watermelons, pecs so large and jutting out so much they were in size similar to pillows…very hard pillows, abs so defined there are no words and legs long and wide enough with muscle to make all the muscular proportions fit, even look handsome. His jaw sharpened as his hair grew longer. He didn’t look like himself anymore or any human for that matter. He looked too tall, strong, handsome…like a god. Suddenly Ron understood.
“You’re… you’re turning me into Thor?!” He asked in shock. Ron had fantasized about being a superhero before, especially being Thor, but the actual prospect of being Thor was overwhelming. He couldn’t be a superhero! Before he could further panic, Clark interrupted
“While, not exactly. See the world you’re going too is one where people can grow to incredible size. You’re not just going to be Thor. You’re gonna be the biggest version of Thor ever.” Clark said with a smirk. Ron wanted to panic, but he felt strangely… confident? Almost cocky even. Suddenly Ron felt another shock as he shot up even higher, becoming even taller and more muscular. He continued like this for a while, growing in increasingly large spurts. First he shot up to 20 feet, then 50, then 200. By the end of the growth he was, well…
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…600 feet tall, with muscles as big as mountains. Even with his massive height he had the proportions of a bodybuilder. No, of a god. That’s what he was after all. A fucking god. Somewhere in all the shocks and growth spurts Ronald Blake had been lost, and Thor Odinson, the giant cocky god, was born. This version of Thor seemed to have quite the ego on him, even more than his regular version. He ran a hand through his long, thick blond hair, a smirk on his handsome face. He chuckled as he saw the SHIELD helicarrier fly nearby. Midguardians were so puny it was almost pitiful. Still, he was a merciful god and loved playing the role of superhero. A familiar voice broke his train of thought as an equally gigantic version of Superman appeared behind him, a large grin on his face.
“So, you ready to save the world?” Superman asked. Thor held his giant hammer tightly, a confident, charming grin on his face. Fuck yeah he was.
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tossawary · 2 days
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Ended up thinking about "Dragon Age" again, specifically mostly DA2 and time travel fics. I think Hawke is the second-easiest DA protagonist for an author to throw backwards in time or into another dimension (the first is the Inquisitor, whose game has canonical time travel), because Hawke potentially getting abandoned in the Fade in DAI is an excuse for anything to happen.
More importantly, I think Hawke is the FUNNIEST protagonist to throw back in time for a redo, because they're not put in charge of Solving The Apocalypse for the majority of their game. The Warden and the Inquisitor are dealing with kingdoms, with the Blight and the Breach, whereas Hawke is "just" dealing with a city state and spends most of their initial time there fucking around trying to support their family. But WHAT a city. Hawke would have to go back and deal with fucking Kirkwall again in all its early, awful glory, a real powder keg waiting to blow.
The amount of time spent in Kirkwall and its incredibly violent game missions isolated to this one location across nearly a decade gives it so much character that, to me, it's perhaps the most entertaining DA location to explore as a place where ordinary people actually live (though, admittedly, many places in Thedas are fucking terrible), and Hawke's tragic relationship with that place as its hero is fascinating to think about. Hawke would have a lot to feel sad about, coming back to this strange place, with both good things and bad things undone, but I find it amusing to imagine that Hawke also actually missed this terrible place and its peculiar version of normal.
Here's a 400 word ficlet of how I imagine Hawke's reunion with Kirkwall going. I don't intend to write a full fic, it's just a scene that came to me with surprising clarity while out on a walk, despite how long it's been since I played a DA game.
KIRKWALL (AGAIN)
Garrett looked over the dark streets of Kirkwall and had to wipe a tear away from his eye. "This place is a shit hole," he said, in the same tone of awe others used for incomparable beauty. 
In front of them, a drunken sailor holding a bottle of whiskey and singing a terrible rendition of the already terrible song "What Do You Do With A Tranquil Blood Mage?" wobbled into a vegetable cart. This caused several turnips to bounce across the cobblestones. The cursing grocer picked one of them up, yelled, "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE WALKING, YOU DOG-FUCKING BLIGHTER," and threw it at the drunken sailor, whose head was saved by the fact that he lurched over to throw up in an alleyway, and the vegetable smashed into the side of a house instead. 
Inside the house, there was a crash, and then the shutters of an upper window flew open, revealing a naked man holding a crossbow. He yelled, "I'LL HAVE YOUR BALLS FOR A NECKLACE, YOU POINTY-EARED COCKSUCKERS," despite the fact that no one nearby was an elf, and then fired at the street below him. His crossbow bolt lodged into a wooden message board, which was mostly covered in old, vandalized paper posters for the Blooming Rose and other like-minded establishments, and the quivering "crossbow bolt" was revealed to be a rusty fork tied to a butter knife with strong, covered in sparkly white and blue powder that glowed slightly. It matched the other mismatched cutlery already embedded in the wood there. 
The naked man with the crossbow slammed his shutters closed again. The people on the streets had ducked or raised a shield, but now easily went back to their business, apparently unsurprised and unworried. An old woman crouched down to the ground and stuffed the thrown turnip into the basket over her arm, then hastily walked away with her free loot. 
"I missed this city so much," Garrett said, and even he was a little horrified that he meant it so sincerely. There was no need for Carver to look at him like that. 
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Note
Gale;
By the time this letter arrives in Waterdeep I will have already departed from Candlekeep. I have found several tomes relevant to your interests and have copied what I can, though given my inability to withdraw books from the athenaeum it may be wise for you to visit yourself.
We should return together, when you are free of your students.
You may tell Tara to stand down - I have been informed that my good friend Arnold the Dog already has an owner, and that if I try to smuggle him out of the city again neither you or I would be permitted entry in future.
Be grateful I prefer you to the dog.
To say that I have missed you would be an understatement. These few tendays I have spent within the library have been the longest I can remember.
I remain unsure that my research will be seen as adequate. I do not doubt your faith in me my love, though I am forever uncertain about what the world may think of an academic Bhaalspawn. I fear that you may be the only learned man who forgives me my lineage, and though I am not surprised I am…
Distraug-
Devast-
Disappointed.
We will be passing through Baldur’s Gate soon enough, I will give Jaheira your best. It will be strange to see the city without you beside me.
With all the love I have to give;
Dreuer.
P.S. if you try to trick me into using a filing system again I will start moving the bookmarks around in your books when you aren’t looking.
P.P.S. i look forward to seeing what part of you you inadvertently dyed purple. I have several ideas, none of them suitable to be committed to ink and parchment.
Loveliest Dreuer,
It pleases me greatly that you were able to find such information. Even the smallest of copied words is enough to begin another journey in my studies. I am sure it is plenty to begin with and will provide a good starting point to search for more if I ever have the chance to visit myself.
Once the summer sun rises and the students have taken their break, perhaps we can make the journey. I still have much to do, and much to prepare, but I can never pass down an adventure for the literary arts.
Tara will be pleased to know this! However, I have several questions as to how exactly you found out Arnold had an owner. If you risk my chance to visit the Athenaeum, I shall be thoroughly disappointed.
I have missed you greatly so, my love. The longer I spend within my books without your embrace, the more weary I become. Though I know you are safe, I only wish to be by your side.
Trust when I say that your lineage is likely the least surprising thing any academic society could come across! They simply judge others for where they cannot judge themselves. I understand your perception of it is and will forever be worlds different than my own, but you truly have nothing to become anxious over. I know you may hate that I would do so, for pride or ego, but I would use my name in a heartbeat if anyone attempted to discredit your research. I know, as well as any other person, how much effort you’ve put into this- if that doesn’t change the minds of even the most heartless, I’m not sure what will.
What matters the most is not what others think, my love, but what you think. Be satisfied with your works, and be joyous in your research. Only you can pave your path forward to academic achievements- and I know you well enough to have full confidence that you will accomplish all you set your heart to.
I’ll send coin for you to use within the city. I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Buy Jaheira a drink, or yourself something if you’d like. I have gone too long without spoiling you since you’ve been away, allow me to make up for it even in such a small dose.
The heart that belongs to only you,
𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔
P.S. If you even think of moving my bookmarks I will force the Netherese orb back into my body and use it. [ there is a small angry face drawn next to the text to convey that he is joking. probably. ]
P.P.S. Now I am going to lock you out of the tower until it returns to normal. I shall also solely blame this on you for not letting me label things. This is why we need the filing system.
[ there is an half-inked feline paw-print stamped at the corner of the page, some small splashes of ink surrounding it, indicating Tara was very much a part of the process in writing the letter. ]
text reads: gale dekarios
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