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toruro · 9 months

Text

— ✧ crybaby

a part of the crybaby series !

pairing. lee chan x reader

description. you've always had a tendency to cry over minuscule things and chan kind of hates it—he thinks it's irritating and immature and stupid. it also doesn't help that he's fighting off the feeling that he might be super into it, because that would just be scandalous, right?

genre. smut (18+), minor angst, fluff

tags. *smut tags under cut* tattooist chan, crybaby reader, use of alcohol & weed, brief descriptions of pain, unrealistic portrayal of getting a tattoo done but who cares, chan is kinda mean in this but he makes up for it promieee

w/c. 7.9k

✘ smut tags. dacryphilia, fingering, semi-public sex, praise kink, petnames (baby, good girl, crybaby), brief condescension

You’re a crybaby—there’s no simpler way of putting it.

Glossy eyes and sticky cheeks are no stranger to your everyday life. Your parents thought you’d grow out of it, even when the tears followed you through middle school and were the root of some fucking embarrassing moments in high school.

Surely university would change things. Surely it’d teach you that the big girl world has no room for your whimpers. Surely you wouldn’t end up crying to your childhood friends, Jeonghan and Jihoon, because you tripped over your own laces even now that you’re in your twenties.

You learn that the thing about being a crybaby is that you never really stop being one.

So yeah. Here you are, in your twenties, knocking on Jeonghan and Jihoon’s door, as you try to hold back the tears that threaten to spill because you tripped over your shoelaces in front of the lobbyman on the way up to their apartment.

You were supposed to meet up with them and a couple other friends from your little circle, but of course you just had to mess things up for yourself, silently reprimanding yourself for letting something as silly and stupid as this get to your head.

You’re expecting Jeonghan to open the door—he’s usually the one by the door—so it’s safe to say that you’re just a little surprised when you see Chan open the door.

Chan runs in your friend circle—he’s a good friend of Jihoon’s, so naturally you see each other often. Though, you wouldn’t exactly call the two of you close. Chan’s a bit … intimidating. Tight lipped and narrow eyes, he doesn’t speak to anyone much, let alone you.

That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy him; after all, Chan is a nice guy, and he’s patted your back and soothed your tears on multiple occasions before. You’ve had some fun conversations here and there, usually when you two are the first to get to a spot and sit and wait for the others to show up.

Chan is also … handsome. Intimidating and kind and handsome—an odd mix, really, but it has your gears turning whenever you’re around him, so rest assured you’re at least a little frazzled when he opens the door instead of Jeonghan.

He glances at you as you furiously wipe away your tears and frowns. “What happened?”

You choke out a small laugh as your breaths finally even out, shaking your head as you move to the side of the couch so he can have some room to sit. “Embarrassed myself in front of the lobbyman,” you mutter, finally letting your hands drop from your face and by your side.

Chan just hums and nods, not prying any further, telling you, “I’m sure he didn’t notice,” before stepping to the side so you can shuffle into the room. With burning cheeks, the two of you make your way to the living room, and you’re grateful that Chan was the only one to arrive before you, so the only others in the room are Jeonghan and Jihoon.

Jihoon catches the sight of your tear streaked cheeks faces first, sighing as you sit down next to him. You can tell he’s about to ask you what happened, but you hold up your hand to stop him. “Don’t ask, it was embarrassing,” you mutter, sinking into the cushions.

Jeonghan clicks his tongue but pats your head from the armchair next to the sofa as Chan sits on the ground across from him. The four of you fall into conversation pretty quickly, and you soon forget all about your stupid laces and stupid tears and laugh along with your friends as the others begin to show up.

It’s how it always goes: the tears and then the laughter that always follows. You’ve grown accustomed to it, and as you adjust to the so-called big girl world, you learn that if your habits can’t be dumped, you might as well learn to live your life around them.

Your friend Soyeon greets you at the tattoo parlor the next day. Smiling, she waves you down to her counter, peeling her eyes away from the screen to look up at you. “Hey,” she says with a smile as you adjust the bag over your shoulder. “Was waiting for you to finally stop by.”

You chuckle and shake your head, looking down. “I know, I know … I’ve been saying I want to get something done since forever but I just never had the time or the cash but I finally caved,” you explain.

Soyeon’s a good friend of yours, and she works as a piercer at the parlor by your apartment complex. You figure she doesn’t have any appointments now, which is why she’s working at the reception, and to be honest, you’re glad it’s her and not some stranger who’s helping you out right now.

“You short on cash?” she asked with a brow raised as she scrolls through the screen, presumably looking through appointments. You reach into your bag and hand her a paper of the design you want. It’s simple, and small, and she examines the image before nodding and handing it back to you.

You shake your head. “Well, I’ve been saving up to see TWICE, so I was just being cautious but now that I’ve got the tickets, I can breathe easy now.”

“Hmm, yeah that makes sense. If you’re still interested in a discounted price though, you can book an appointment with the apprentice.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Who?”

Soyeon chuckles, and points at the design on your paper. “You know, a new tattoo artist. Like, the one we got has been doing it for almost 2 years now so he’s pretty good, but it’s still lower cost than if you got this done with the regulars. And since you have a really simple design, you can trust that nothing’s really gonna go wrong.”

“Really? That’s great!” you say, bouncing excitedly as you nod your head before pausing. “Like, is there a chance it might go wrong?”

“Hmm, I doubt it. Our guy is actually great, and like I said, he’s on his final leg of his apprenticeship anyways so I’d be surprised if he messes this up, honestly.”

“That’s nice then, can you book me for an appointment with him?”

“Yeah sure,” Soyeon replies, scrolling through the computer before holding a finger up. “He should be free two days from now in the evening right before we close. That’s when he usually works, but he doesn’t have a booking for that day … does that work?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” you agree, and Soyeon smiles as she pulls out a clipboard and a paper.

“I’ll write you down for six then. Sign this waiver, and then just come in then.”

You smile and nod. “Sounds good!”

It’s the next evening, and you’re pressing your back into a wall wondering how you got yourself into this situation. One overly sweet drink in a cup held close to your chest, people dancing and playing games, talking and screaming over the loud music that blasts into your ears and straight down to your heart, you stand in a corner twiddling with your fingers.

you: hey where r u? [8:43 PM] you: kinda worried … ur still coming right?? [8:45 PM] you: jihoooon hello? [8:50 PM] jihoon: hey i’m rly sorry [8:56 PM] jihoon: i can’t go today [8:56 PM] you: what why?? [8:57 PM] jihoon: i forgot i promised jj that i’d go over to his tonight [8:57 PM] jihoon: i’m rly sorry [8:57 PM] you: :/ it’s okay [8:58 PM] jihoon: sorry again [8:59 PM] jihoon: i know chan and jun are there, stick w them , i’m sure they wouldn’t mind [9:00 PM]

Fat chance with the latter, since Jun is in the corner of the room with a girl grinding down on him as they eat each other’s faces off.

you: yeah, i’ll just go look for chan [9:02 PM]

And that’s what you do, clutching the red solo cup to your chest as you let the situation sink into your skin. You’re a little upset, of course. Jihoon didn’t intend to flake on you, you know that for sure, but it doesn’t really help the fact that he still did it.

Needless to say you’re feeling … oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. Not this again. No way you’re going to start crying in the middle of a fucking college party because one of your friends didn’t tag along. You’re not even alone—there’s that nice girl from your chem in the kitchen and she looks perfectly sober and ready to hold a decent conversation, there’s the goofy guy from your freshman orientation group smoking in a corner and you’re sure he wouldn’t mind catching up, and then your eyes land on Chan, relief hitting your body in recurring waves.

He’s on the couch, dark hair pushed back so they don’t fall over his eyes as he sinks into the cushions. He looks relaxed and calm, and looking at the joint that sits between his fingers, you have a feeling you know why. His other hand holds his phone, and under the glaring artificial light of his phone and the alternating colors of the led lights that train the wall, he looks handsome.

The tears that poked at your eyes just moments ago seem to die back down as you approach him, glad to see a much more familiar face—one that isn’t being sucked off by another girl at the moment.

“Hey,” you murmur, sitting down next to Chan on the worn-out sofa (you’re pretty sure you knocked over someone’s drink as your feet shuffle on the ground, but you’re a bit too much in your feels to say anything about it). You think you see Chan’s eyes narrow at you when he looks up from his phone, but you can’t quite tell.

“What’s up?” he asks, voice low and gruff as he looks back down at his phone. You remember Jeonghan saying something about how they played basketball together today so you think he’s just a bit, yet you can’t help but feel that ugly knot tie up in your throat again.

(Are you just oddly vulnerable in this moment, or does Chan look at you with something a little more demeaning than just fatigue?)

“Uh—” Fuck, there’s that stupid feeling in your throat. The one that, no matter how many times you try to gulp down, it comes bubbling back up hotter and harder to avoid until you feel your eyes sting and face grow warmer. You want to forget about Jihoon and his stupid text that you let ruin your night, and you want to tell Chan that you like his shirt because that might be the only thing that stops the hot drops from pooling in your lash line and—

“Are you going to cry?” Chan asks you flatly.

If your chances of crying were fifty-fifty one moment ago, they’re definitely one-hundred-to-one now.

“What?” All creaky and hoarse, the words come out as a strained whisper—Chan doesn’t even need to look at the fat tears that are already rolling down your face to know the answer.

You expect him to sigh heavily. To give you a ‘I knew it’ sorta look, but without the meanness. To pat your shoulder and tell you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Chan scoffs at you, and you come to the conclusion that this is easily the worst night of your life.

He could’ve stopped there. The damage was most definitely dealt and as you hold your breath and try to hold back the tears amidst the crowd (it won’t work, it never does, but you’d be a fool to not at least try), you hold onto what shreds of dignity you have left and hope he doesn’t continue.

Because again, Chan could’ve stopped there. He was right. Those five words made their point, and the grief stricken look on your face is enough to tell him that you’ve gotten his message.

Chan could’ve stopped, but he doesn’t.

“Seriously like—” he scoffs again, running a hand through his thick dark locks before shoving his phone in his pocket and turning to face you.

Oh.

There’s that face; eyebrows knitted together and jaw taut, a sharp gaze and lips almost curved into a sneer. Chan is annoyed, and he’s annoyed with you.

Oh.

You think you’d get used to it by now: the snotty tears and soft hiccups for air as you try to breathe in a room filled with so many people while feeling so alone. You guess the funny thing about being a crybaby is that no matter how many tears you waste, you’re always pushed back to square one after each time.

“—D’you ever not cry?” You think Chan intends for the words to come out as a mean joke, and through the wavering thoughts and emotions that flood through your brain and send a rush through your ears, you commend him: mission accomplished, because this is one hell of a mean, mean joke.

“Chan—” It’s a fruitless attempt, you’re starting to realize, to try and stop him.

“Like is there a single day that goes by where you aren’t bursting into tears over every damn inconvenience? Fuck, it’s so annoying.” He huffs loudly when your mouth opens agape but fails to let any words out, reaching for the joint that sits on the coffee table in front of you. Chan holds the roll close to his lips, not bothering to even glance your way as he inhales heavily. The blow of smoke from his lips moments later fogs between you two, and for a second you’re grateful that he won’t be able to see your face.

“If you want someone to wipe your tears like a baby, go look for Jeonghan or Jihoon or something,” he says finally, the smoke clearing up and fading into the crowd of people in the room. Chan leans back into the sofa, black shirt clinging close to his skin, and you can tell that this is his way of telling you to get out. “Whatever you do, leave me out of it.”

You think about Chan’s words more than you should, honestly. And you cry over it, of course. (When do you not cry about it?) You don’t tell Jeonghan or Jihoon anything about what happened that night, which is a first. Then again, it’s not every day that someone you’d confided in, someone you’d trusted, someone you’d cried to, holds an impromptu announcement of his irritation with you.

Jeonhgan would hear this and correct you, saying, “Channie isn’t annoyed with you, he just … doesn’t like how you cry often,” to which you would say that this is you! This is who you are and if Chan doesn’t like that, then he can’t ever like you!

Jihoon would hear this and tell you that Chan was just high off his mind, to which you would argue that words said under the influence always do wear a ring of honesty. They don’t bear the barrier of a filter that the sober mind does, and you would go even further to say that the words Chan spat at you that night were as true as they come.

Still, you try not to dwell on it, mainly because you fear you’ll cry if you think about it too much, and that would just be proving his point. Instead, you focus on your plans for this evening: getting your first tattoo.

It’s exciting, really, as you put on a cute skirt and simple top, skipping down the street to make your way to Soyeon’s parlor. Maybe this is a new phase of your life, you tell yourself as you slip into the parlor. It’s quiet, and you recall your friend telling you that she booked your appointment near closing time.

“Hey!” she greets you happily when you walk through the door. “You look cute.”

Smiling bashfully, you look down at the outfit. “Yeah, thanks,” you reply with a giggle.

“You excited? You’re getting your tattoo cherry popped today, right?”

“Yeah! I’m a little nervous, but I’ve also been really wanting to do this for a while,” you admit.

“That’s great to hear … the guy who’s doing your thing is just cleaning up his area, and he’ll take you to his room in just a sec …”

There are a few thudding footsteps that you hear in the distance, and when you see who approaches from behind Soyeon at the counter, your heart drops.

Of course. Of fucking course.

“Hey Chan, you ready to take her to the back?” she asks, turning around to face the one person who you’ve been trying so damn hard not to think about. Clad in a tight fit white t-shirt and dark jeans, Chan looks up from his phone, eyes landing on you in an instant.

The evening sun beams on his skin and for a moment he glows. The memories of the night before flood back to you though, and suddenly it all seems dull.

“Uh …” It seems he’s just as surprised as you, and you can only thank the gods that Soyeon is looking at him instead of you, because god knows that he is doing a much better job at hiding it. He nods his head, near-black hair wisping over his forehead as he gestures to a room in the far end of the parlor. “Yeah, everything’s set up, so it should all be good now.” Fuck, how is he able to act so normal?

“Okay great, you two can head on back there. How long you think it’ll take?”

Chan shrugs—he’s too nonchalant, and you can’t seem to read him. “Uh, like an hour. I can close if you want.”

“Nah, it’s chill,” Soyeon replies. “I gotta stock up on some packages anyways, so I’ll be here for a while.”

Chan nods, and then for the first time he meets your eyes. “C’mon,” he waves you over when he turns around, and silently you follow him through the hallway and to a door near the back. “Didn’t know tattoos were your thing,” he says as you walk into the room. The walls are light blue and most of the equipment is dark and steel—it feels sterile, and the cold distance between you and your friend (?) is not helping to ease your nerves.

“They’re, uh, just something I’m trying out. Th-this is my first one.” Shit, this is so awkward.

Chan only hums and nods, closing the door and walking over to a desk space on the side that’s littered with equipment, ink, a laptop, tissues, a couple bottles of god knows what, and some papers.

“This is what you want?” he asks finally, breaking the heavy silence as he holds up a stamp with the printed shape of a crescent moon.

“Uh—yeah,” you say quietly as he gestures towards the chair beside him.

“Cool. It’s simple, so it shouldn’t take more than an hour with all the prep and clean up,” Chan tells you when he sits down on his own swivel chair next to the larger stationed one where you’re perched by. He moves back and forth as you settle down, and he soon brings over the temporary tattoo to your arm. “Show me exactly where you want it.”

It’s a few moments of you two going back and forth, pressing the stamp over different areas of your arm before settling it on a spot just above your elbow that you like. The setting is … oddly professional, although you’re not sure if you’re happy or upset about it.

Chan and you are friends—at least you thought you were until last night—so now you wonder how things would’ve gone today if he hadn’t been honest with you last night. Would you have sat in this same chair, laughing along to jokes or catching up on your lives? Would you have voiced your nervousness, and would he have comforted you?

You don’t know, and you realize that you’ll probably never find out.

After the final position is chosen, he transfers the stamp onto your skin to create the temporary template, cleaning the area on your arm and disinfecting his needles in the process. He doesn’t really talk to you, only letting a few words slip to let you know what he’s doing, and what he’s going to do next.

Are you overthinking things? This is a purely professional setting so there’s no reason for either of you to bring up what happened last night, and Chan’s made it pretty clear he’s not interested in your feelings anyways, so maybe you should let this all go.

Your mind fills with a race of thoughts despite your desperate attempts to tell your brain to shut up, and so naturally you find yourself fidgeting in your seat.

Chan watches you from the corner of his vision. As much as he hates to admit it, there’s something … endearing about the way you squirm in front of him. It sets his heart ablaze when you avert your gaze every time the two of you make eye contact, and Chan isn’t quite sure if it’s because he wants you to hold it or if it’s just because he finds your apprehension irritating.

“We’re gonna start now,” he says finally, slipping on two black gloves and holding up the buzzing tattoo pen. “It’s gonna hurt and all, ‘m sure you know,” he hums, holding your arm and scooting forward in the rolly chair so his face is dangerously close to yours. “Let me know if you want a break, yeah?”

Strictly professional, you remind yourself when you nod, helping him adjust the angle of your arm for his ease. Taking a deep breath, you watch carefully as Chan holds the need close to your skin.

It’s a small pinch at first, and then it burns. You bite down hard on your bottom lip and press your eyes shut tight as you silently curse yourself for not preparing yourself any better for this before. Oh well, there isn’t much backing out of this now.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts, and you choose to look away because actually seeing the needle pressed against your skin makes you feel a bit more dizzy than you’d like. You enjoy the few moments where Chan takes a break, fixes something with the gun, before going back in with a few short and warning words. It’s after a few moments that the pain returns, and you slightly jerk as an instinctive reaction.

“Calm down.” Chan’s voice is deep and low, but you can hardly hear it through the rush in your ears when a hand presses over your thigh. Fuck. Fuck. Why is his hand so warm? Is he burning or are you burning and—fuck. It’s so big, and splays over the plush of your thigh so nicely and— “I can’t do this if you keep fidgeting.”

“S-sorry,” you reply quietly, peeling your eyes away as he lifts off his hand. You’re half convinced there’ll be a burn spot in the shape of his hand from where it was placed. You two are awfully close, and if you weren’t so fucking vulnerable right now you might have basked in the pretty view that is his face.

Chan feels your tears first, hears your soft sniffles second. Dropping onto his forearm that sits under your face, when he glances up at you, you’re already wiping them away and turning to look at the wall on the other side.

There it is again. That weird feeling in his chest that he always gets when he sees you tear up, and now more than ever, Chan wonders if it’s something more than discontent.

“Sorry,” you whimper, biting down on your bottom lip hard. Fuck, this is embarrassing. You can feel the burn of his eyes on you, and you’re growing more and more impatient as you wait for him to turn away. It’s a heavy few moments, although it feels like hours until he finally lifts his hand off your thigh.

“It’s okay,” he finally says, his voice lower and quieter than you expected. “Is it the pain?”

“Y-yeah,” you admit bashfully once the tears have finally stopped falling. “I have a low pain tolerance but I thought I’d be able to handle without—”

“It’s okay,” he says again, and his tone is surprisingly soft, forcing you to look down at him as he holds your arm gently. His brown eyes are wide and kind—has he always looked at you so fondly? “Calm down, we’re almost done.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly, and Chan senses the anxiousness in your voice. He battles himself in his mind, before telling himself that if he doesn’t give in now, he might regret it forever.

“Here,” he murmurs, easing one hand onto your lap. “Hold my hand.”

“W-what?”

“Hold my hand,” Chan repeats, a little bit firmer, but he still shyly averts his gaze, as if he too is aware of how out of character this is. “And, uh, you can squeeze it when it hurts.”

Steadily, you nod, slotting your hand into his. A perfect fit, you both seem to think as he encases his fingers around yours, but neither of you comment on it as Chan brings up the needle to your arm again, pressing it to your skin.

You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s holding you now, or because of the sheer intensity in the way he looked at you, but the tense knots in your muscles seem to relax even though you’re in pain. Tears prick at your eyes once more, but this time you make no effort to wipe them away.

You whimper a few times, and you swear on everything that Chan grips your hand a little tighter, but in your dizzy haze you can’t quite pinpoint why.

It’s a bit of a roller coaster for Chan himself. Your hand is just so … cute in his, and the soft sniffles and cries that he thought he loathed are making him second guess everything he’s ever thought about you, and as he’s finishing up drawing the little moon on your arm, he’s hit with epiphany.

Chan never hated you, and he never hated your tears. When you shift under him, press the pads of your fingers into his palm and knit your eyebrows together in an attempt to keep quiet … Chan fucking loves it.

Whenever he saw you in tears, he never hated you for crying, he hated that you were crying for any reason other than him, and he hated how you went to Jeonghan and Jihoon to wipe your tears away instead of him.

It’s a sickening thought, really, that he let those venomous words pierce your skin the night before instead of realizing his own fondness for you. His fondness for the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your lips, your fidgeting figure and wide, glossy eyes.

“Almost done …” he mutters, and it only takes two more minutes before he lifts the needle and looks up at you, still clasping your hands together.

“Is it done?” you ask meekly, tightening your grip on his fingers as you anticipate your answer. When Chan nods up at you, he watches your shoulders deflate in relief, and the light that overtakes your tear streaked face sends his heart in a frenzy.

“Just gotta put the ointment and wrap.”

You chew on your lip, and Chan thinks he might just pass out. “Is it gonna hurt too … ?”

“A little, but then it’ll feel really good,” he says honestly, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go and taking his gloves off so he can grab some stuff from the table. You miss his warmth, but wonder if it’s for the better. Chan may be acting rather … lovingly right now, but you also never noticed his irritation with you earlier, so you don’t think you can really trust your senses.

You watch him bring out a tube, pushing out a clear ointment onto his fingers before bringing it up to your hand and smearing it over your skin. You make a disgruntled sort of sound when he does, unaware of the initial sting it came with, quickly pressing your lips together when you realize Chan is still here.

He hums, not looking up at you but still murmuring, “Good job,” as he slides the ointment over the little symbol. “So good for me …”

Fuck, this is so dirty. It’s so dirty and so sexy, and even though every bone in your body is telling you ‘no! no! no!’ you can’t help but let the little depraved whimper that escapes your mouth at the praise. Chan hears it, and he definitely feels your desperation in the air. It’s suffocating in the best way possible, to say the least.

So, to test the water, he eases one hand back onto your thigh, slightly close to your knee as he uses his other hand to pull out the clear film. “It might hurt while I put it on but it’ll feel good afterwards, ‘kay?” And when his voice is so tender and sweet, how can you do anything but look at him shyly and nod, bottom lip clasped between your teeth.

As he places the sheet over the fresh tattoo, he lets his hand inch up your thigh. Your arm stings as the film sticks to your skin, but none of it compares to the flame he lights across your skin with his gentle touch.

Oh. Oh.

This is real. This is happening.

“Chan,�� you whine, and then Chan knows it in his bones.

“Does it hurt?” he asks innocently, smoothing his fingers over the film to make sure it sticks before turning his attention to the hand back at your thigh. It’s awfully close to the hem of your skirt which is already ridden up to the max, brushing dangerously close to your core.

“Not really,” you murmur, finally meeting Chan’s gaze. He’s still sitting down now, right by your chair and head a bit under yours so you can see the white light reflect against his brown eyes as you both sit in the silence.

You could hear a pin drop, and the only thing you’re focused on is the shattering touch of Chan against you, so when he whispers, “You okay?” you know he’s asking something else. Is this okay?

When you whimper as his hand slips beneath your skirt, Chan gets his answer.

“Quiet baby, quiet,” he shushes, lips ghosting over your arm as he presses a thumb against your clit roughly, toying with the nub through your panties. “‘m gonna take care of you, but you gotta be quiet, okay?”

“S’hard Channie,” you whine before slamming a hand over your mouth. “Don’t think I can …” Chan gives you a warning look before sighing and starting to gain speed.

“Soyeon’s gonna hear you,” he murmurs, rubbing circles over your panties as he starts to stand up. It has your vision going blurry—the way his fingers are so methodical and his gaze is intense on your form as he now looks down at you from above.

You don’t even have time to think about what this moment means for the two of you because Chan is leaning down and using his unoccupied hand to grab your face, smashing your parted lips against his.

You kiss him sweetly, and Chan feels himself melt right into your touch with the way your tongue plays around shyly with his. Holding one of your cheeks, he feels the moistness of your tears under his touch, only fueling his vigor as he licks into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums against your lips as he pulls away, grazing his fingers over your clothed cunt. You jerk against him, using one hand to grab his firm bicep, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Channie,” you pout, swiveling your hips in the squeaky chair as you chase for more relief. Chan hums, leaning down to graze his teeth over your neck before biting down lightly. Mewling at the pleasurable sting, you sink your nails into his arm tighter as you feel a warmth boil in your tummy.

“Promise you’re gonna be quiet, baby,” Chan murmurs into your skin as he peels your panties off and to the side of your slick core, exploding the fluttering folds to the cold air of the room.

“I—” you hiccup of your own moan, a few stray tears falling when Chan eases one finger into your pulsing cunt, his thumb still toying with your clit, “—I promise,” you tell him, as quietly as you can when you blink up at him.

“That’s my girl,” he mutters when you whimper as he slips in another finger, finding a rhythm when he fucks them in and out of you at an increasingly fervent pace. They’re long and thick, finding all the spots inside of you that have you writhing in his chair, curling his fingers into them until you’re biting down on your lip so hard you might have drawn blood.

Chan watches you carefully as a fresh mark blooms at the base of your neck, a filling sense of pride overtaking him when he sees your own tears fall on the mark. “Fuck,” he groans, drinking in your choked moans that break free, despite your obvious attempts to keep quiet. You’re trying so hard for him, it’s admirable and fucking adorable. “Crying already?” he croons, starting to grind the palm of his hand against your clit in tune with the swiveling of your hips.

“C-can’t help it,” you whimper, digging your face into his chest as a futile attempt to calm down your breaths even as you approach your inevitable high. “Feels s’good,” you confess bashfully, pulling away so you can crane your neck up to look at him.

Your lashes are stuck together and your under eyes are shiny, and Chan doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter. His jeans feel ten sizes too small with the way his hardness is pressing against them, and he aches for nothing more than to stick it in and fuck you until you don’t know how to cry about anything but him.

Fuck, he’s in deep. So, so deep.

Here you are, panting into his chest as he finger fucks you into oblivion, whispering words of endless praise into your ear—the two you of don’t know how things ended up like this, but you’re sure neither of you are complaining.

“‘m gonna cum,” you whine, thankful that his shirt muffles at least some of the noise. If Soyeon were ever to hear this, you might just have to never speak to her again. “Fuck, I’m so close Channie.”

It’s the way you call for him—Channie—so sweetly and with such mind numbing passion that Chan starts to lose control. He told himself he’d take his time with you, working you up to a heavy orgasm but you’re already muffling sobs into his chest and he hasn’t even stuck it in yet. It’s a sight too pretty, too cute, and Chan can’t help but indulge in you, speeding up his fingers until you let out a squeak and more tears, cunt pulsing and clenching around his fat fingers.

“There you go, baby,” he praises, curling his fingers into all the right spots as you grow limp beneath him, sobbing through your orgasm. “There you go, fuck yourself on my fingers … feels good right? Made you feel good?”

“Good,” you slur, body drifting back so you lay against the headrest of the chair, Chan’s fingers still inside of you as overstimulation replaces desperation. You look at him as if he holds all the answers in the words, shiny eyes that are blown out, sweat stuck to your skin so it makes you shine and fuck, Chan thinks you look so sexy. Legs spread and skirt ridden up when he finally slips two fingers from your dripping core, slick coating the chair and the insides of your thigh.

“Messy girl,” he chides, and you whine at both the words and the loss of him inside of you. Your breaths are shaky still, recovering from the orgasm that wracked through your body, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of this situation.

Thoughts buzz through your mind at a million miles per hour and you aren’t sure what’s more dizzying—that Can possibly likes you or that he just fingered you in a tattoo parlor. Eyes glossing over your figure, you catch the way he looks at you with pink cheeks and a tent in his jeans. Oh god.

“Can we—”

“Yes,” he breathes out. “I just—” For once, Chan looks like he’s lost. You always thought Chan to be well composed in all situations. Cool. Chan was cool, and he was intimidating, and he was hot, but now he looks at you like he wants to lay with you forever and melt into your bones, and without a second of hesitation, you know that you want to do the same.

He kisses you with a new found vigor, as if to remind you that he’s still here, wiping away the tears that still linger on your face before easing one hand around your waist, running up and down along the side of your body. “Gonna make you cry,” he grunts, turning your body so your legs hang over the side of the chair instead of the front. Pushing himself in between your legs, they instinctively part and wrap around his waist, drenched panties pressing against his crotch.

“Shit,” you hiss at the friction, glancing up at him as you flip your skirt up so you can both watch the way your hips connect. “I—”

You’re cut off by knocking on your door, all your muscles tensing when you hear Soyeon’s voice. “Hey Chan, I actually think I’m gonna head out now,” she calls out. Chan doesn’t turn around, his eyes firmly set on you under him, and he tentatively juts his hips forward, pressing his erection against your clothed core even harder.

You almost moan. Almost. You narrow your eyes up at him, but the hint of a smirk tugs at his lips before opening his mouth and saying, “Yeah, go ahead. We still got …” Chan’s eyes glaze over you, and something in them darkens as he watches you struggle not to make a sound. “We still got stuff to take care of,” he tells Soyeon through the door. “I’ll close up, just leave the keys in the box.”

“Are you sure, because—”

“Yeah,” Chan says, a bit louder and firmer this time, causing you to twitch beneath him, reaching out for a hand to hold. Chan watches you fondly as you do so, fingers going in a grabbing motion towards him, and something inside him melts when he slots one hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. “Just go Soyeon, I’ll take care of everything. Just go.”

You can hear Soyeon mutter something about Chan being an asshole as her footsteps fade away, but neither of you care after Chan looks down at you again. “Fuck,” he mutters, letting go of your hand and grabbing the back of your neck, smashing his mouth on yours as he grinds into you.

“Wan’ it now, Chan,” you moan as you fruitlessly gyrate your hips, the action proving to be difficult when your legs are locked around Chan’s torso.

“Fuck, me too baby,” he grunts, pushing your shirt upwards so that they bunch up over your bra. You help him out, unclipping the flimsy material and throwing your bra off to the side. Chan takes this time to unbuckle the black belt secured around his waistband, wasting no time to shove his jeans down to pool at his knees, leaving him in nothing but boxers that are starting to look painfully tight.

His bulge is basically staring at you, and you feel your mouth water at just the thought of what hides behind the thin fabric. Growing impatient, you reach forward and help him out, tugging down his boxers as he fondles one of your tits with a large hand. A soft gasp escapes your lips when his cock is freed, springing up and against your hand, smearing precum all over your palm.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Chan groans when you wrap your hand around the base of his fat length, steadily jerking him off as you admire how pretty he is. You look so enamored with him, and Chan feels himself growing dizzy. Fuck, this is happening. This is really happening.

Firmly yet carefully, he pushes your shoulders back and then smooths a hand over your thighs before finally pulling your hips closer to his. He traces his touch over your soiled panties, admiring the wet stain and the way you jerk against him when he brushes a finger over your clit.

You hear the rip first. The feeling of cool air against your sopping pussy hits you a second later, and you gape up at Chan who yanks your now torn panties right off of you. You can’t control your moan this time, the depraved noise ripping through your throat as you lean backwards.

“You ready baby?” Chan rasps out, shuffling forward so the pretty pink head of his cock brushes against your folds.

“Oh god,” you whine at the contact. “Yes,” you blabber. “Ready, ‘m so ready Channie.”

Chan chuckles, moving his hips ever so slightly so the tip pushes into your throbbing cunt only barely before leaving you empty again. He’s teasing you, you can feel it, but watching the lust overtake his features, you know he won’t be able to hold out much longer. “I believe you baby,” he says quietly, securing one hand by your neck and the other at your waist. “Think you can take it?”

“Yeah,” you almost scoff. “‘course I can take it, I—oh.”

Shit, he’s so big, stretching out your pussy as his cock bullies its entire length into you until his balls are pressed to your skin. “What were you saying baby?” Chan chuckles again, using his grip on your neck to pepper kisses by your collarbone as you hiccup.

“Channie,” you gasp out as he stills inside of you. You’ve never felt so full of anything before, and it’s numbing all your senses, a burn exploding through your entire body as your eyes sting.

“Oh baby,” he coos condescendingly, when he pulls away and looks at you. “My poor baby,” he murmurs, rocking his hips into yours so slightly but it still punches moans out of your lungs. “My poor, poor baby—crying already?”

“C-can’t help it,” you whimper, eyes shut tight as Chan starts to pull out further now, leaving you empty around halfway before filling you right back up. You really, really can’t help it—the way the tears flow from your eyes as if that’s all you were made to do: cry for Chan and his words that are so mean yet so nice.

“I know baby …” he huffs out, the strain in his own voice apparent. Your cunt is sucking him and and he wonders how you could be so perfect, crying beneath him from just a few strokes and dirty words—you were fucking made for him. “My little crybaby … looks so cute when she cries.”

You don’t know why, but his words only make you cry harder, choking over your own strangled moans and broken pleas as you tap his forearm and intertwine your fingers with his again. Chan thinks this is it for him—he’s fucking into you, thrusting so mean, but here you are mewling his name and gripping onto his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“Perfect,” he growls, using the hand on your hip to push you down so he can jam his hips into yours faster. “You’re so fucking perfect—my pretty crybaby.”

Your gummy walls pulse around him, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tight your vision starts to grow hazy. Your tears fall onto your shirt and something about the small stains has Chan going into a frenzy, snapping his cock into you so hard you swear it kisses your cervix every single time.

“So-o-o full,” you gasp out, feeling tears drop on your lips. Chan leans down, capturing your wet lips in a hot kiss, licking the saltiness right from your mouth. “I—I can’t wait!” you cry out when he curves his thrust into that spot.

“Channie making you feel good?” he groans, your wetness starting to drip down his pelvis, a squelching sound filling the room from every slam of his hips.

“Amazing,” you choke. “Love it, love it so much.”

“So much it makes you cry, huh baby?” Chan whispers through his own heavy pants. “Love it, love it when you cry for me …”

You can’t think, you can’t feel anything except for his cock hammering down onto you as you bury your face into his chest. “Only you, only for you, Channie!”

“Fuckin’ better be. Only I get to see you like this, right baby? My pretty crybaby. Say it.”

“Yours! Your pretty cry baby!” you cry out as you clench down on him so tight Chan thinks he might bust on the spot.

“Fuck, yes baby, yes—that’s my good girl, crying on my cock.”

“Channie—Chan! ‘m gonna—ah!”

It hits you like a truck. When you cum, it’s with tears soaking his shirt as you blubber for the impending release, your cum fully creaming his cock and making an even bigger mess between your lower halves, as he fucks it all into you. The squeezing of your gummy walls around him is more than enough for his own eyes to be rolling to the back of his head and once he’s sure you’re fucked through, he slips out of you and wraps a hand around the base of his cock.

Your face is aflame and your mind buzzes but something about the way Chan’s hands looks so prettier around his even prettier cock as you shuffling to the ground and on your knees in front of him. Still sniffling from the onslaught of stimulation, you close your eyes and hold your tongue open for him as his cock twitches.

His seed hits you in thick ribbons of white, warm as some lands on your lips and tongue, some mixing with the rest of the wetness on your cheeks. As he cums, Chan mumbles your name under his breath in broken and whiny syllables, the sound echoing off the walls in a beautiful pattern.

As he looks down at you, his cock successfully milked dry, he thinks he might just pass out.

You’re the prettiest girl in the world like this, face coated in tears and his cum. And when your lips curve up in a dopey smile and you look at him with puffy eyes, Chan knows that he doesn’t mind a crybaby as long as it’s you.

#lee chan x reader #lee chan imagines #lee chan smut #dino x reader #dino smut #📝 writing #crybaby

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pandoraslxna · 6 months

Text

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: Biting, rough sex, jealousy, possessive behavior, edging, begging, dom/sub

You’re on your knees, with your hands clawing the headboard of his bed, face buried into the pillow, ass up and gasping loudly as Quaritch fucks you. Anger and jealousy coiled tightly in him, pushing him to fuck you especially hard today.

"Oh, fuck, Miles, fuck, fuck, fuck—" Your voice cracks and you shudder as a particularly deep thrust hits just right, blinding you with a flash of painful pleasure.

Quaritch leans over and sets his teeth to the back of your neck– and then he bites. A whine trembles from your lips, and you’re certain he's leaving behind an imprint of his teeth.

"That’s one, for flirting with that damn science puke today", he says lowly. "So you know who you belong to." His cock slides in deep and slow, and then he bites you again, on your shoulder this time.

"And that’s two. For laughing in my face when I told you to knock it off. Goddamn brat", he growls. The next bite has no particular reason other than the purpose of being seen. Next is your throat, neck, shoulder, hips, thighs, breasts, arms, …

Thrust and bite, over and over and over, until you’re shaking, trembling, and could feel something build in your chest— a sob or a scream. It doesn't really matter as long as Miles keeps doing this, fucking you hard and fast and deep, biting you, claiming you as his.

You feel the pleasure-pain of every bite down to your core. You’re so wet, your clit is throbbing, and you want nothing more than to touch yourself, need to touch yourself, but you’re terrified of letting go of the headboard. It's the only thing anchoring you to your body as Quaritch fucks and bites, sharp-toothed and rhythmic.

"Please, please, fuck, Miles, please! I‘m sorry, I‘m— I won’t do it again! I‘m yours, only y-yours!"

Another bite, and your whole body tenses, arching under the recoms solid weight, a high-pitched, whiny sound being pulled from you as the pleasure pools incandescently, low in your belly, about to explode. You push back clumsily, needing him deeper, as deep as he can get, make him a part of you. Quaritch doesn’t respond, but he bites again, teeth harsher than ever.

It hurts, but it’s in the best way possible, and you can't hold back any more. You had to come, you were so desperate for it, so you let go of the headboard and—

"No." Miles‘ voice is gravelly in your ear as he grabs your hand, twines your fingers together and pins your hand behind your back. "Not yet, cupcake. Didn’t think I would let you come this easily, after that stunt you pulled today, huh? Seems like my little slut completely forgot who’s in charge here." And then he rocks into you so quick and strong that you slide up the bed a bit. Miles braces you with a hand on your hip, holds you steady as he continues to pound into you.

While you’re moaning, panting and gasping, breath hitching, Quaritch just continues to fuck and bite you steadily, keeping your hand trapped. At some point, he starts to whisper into your ear, filthy things about how hot you look with your neck bruised and bite-marked, how he loves fucking you so hard, how much he loves the way you taste, how much he loves to discipline his favorite brat...

Sobbing, you shudder and twist and beg, your words pleasure-blurred into one long moan of want, "Pleasepleasepleaseplease—"

Finally relenting, Quaritch releases your hand and reaches between your thighs, giving a teasing slap to your clit before he runs his fingers over it in fast, tight circles, and then you’re gone, flung into your orgasm, crying out and shaking, shuddering and twitching like you’ve been struck by lightning. Chanting, thank you, sir, thank you, thank you, before your supporting arm gives way and you collaps to the bed, a delicious drowsiness settling over you.

In the distance you hear Miles frantic panting and his low groans of good girl, such a good girl, took it so well, look how fuckin' pretty you are, all marked up as mine, as he comes, and you let yourself drift away, warm and loved and tingling.

#LunasKinktober2023 #avatar miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader smut #colonel miles quaritch x female reader #miles quaritch #miles quaritch smut #quaritch x y/n #avatar quaritch #quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader smut #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar the way of water

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readychilledwine · 8 months

Text

Requiem for a Dream

Part 4 : Closer

(Three Months into Rhysand's return home)

Rhys is left with no choice but to call the bargain with Feyre in, but it turns out the anger the cursebreaker fills him with is the perfect catalyst.

Warnings - a lot? NSFW, Smut, Penetration, rough sex, d/s dynamics, bratty behavior, mentions of self pleasuring, mentions of voyeurism and exhibitionism, degradation and praising, light impact play, alcohol use. Let me know if I'm missing something?

A/N- this is the end, my loves. From here forward would begin the journey that is ACOMAF but with my OC. I'm interested in diving into a tense dynamic between her and Feyre that is very much an enemies to friends trope. I just do not know if I will. If you are interested, this one is pretty obvious to the gurlies with a banging time playlist, "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails

Part One Part Two Part Three

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Rhiannon could hear Rhys arguing with Feyre. The bargain they struck had begun zapping him this morning and used that small piece of him that lived inside of her to force him to feel her emotions. Panic, fear, depression. He had tried pushing it aside as long as he could before getting too angry to ignore it any longer.

Rhiannon had dressed him impeccably for his first outside of the court appearance since leaving the mountain. He looked like a God. His fitted black trousers, a black shirt, and jacket with embellished lapels. His swirling chest tattoos peeked out from under his clothing. She, admittedly, had been drooling over her husband.

In her mind, his outfit highlighted the return to health he'd undergone. It showed that his court was thriving under their strong high lord. Appearance was one lesson she took very seriously from her own father. Even if Rhysand hadn't repaired his court alone, she ensured it looked like it he did.

The other high lords did not need to know she had been a driving force in how quickly they recovered. They didn't need to know Azriel and Cassian had made examples of every single male that stepped out of line. That Mor and Amren had slapped the Court of Nightmares back into shape with two long visits. No, she'd allow her mate that credit, especially when it was Tamlin having to face it. She ran a perfectly manicured nail along the rim of the crystal glass before refilling it with the sweet red she had stolen from Rhysand's cabinet.

She smirked as the doorway to their room, and then the bathroom, slammed open and shut. She had been teasing him all day. Sending him images of her playing with herself, sending him images of last night when she was watching him with his cock in her mouth. Now, she sat in their oversized tub, drinking wine, and looking out over their court, she regretted nothing about the bratty behavior she had sent him despite his multiple delicious warnings. Not when it would become this.

She could feel is rage ripping through the bond like wolves. But all of that stopped the second he saw her, naked and wet, in the steamy haze of their tub. "Are you going to join me, or just stand there?" She looked back at him over her shoulder. She watched his eyes go wide and his smirk grow. She took it one step further, wiggling her hips at him.

He growled at her, immediately pulling his clothing off. "Stay right fucking there. Do not move."

"Right here?" She motioned to the bench her knees were on. "Right in this spot?" She had arched her back and leaned forward out of the tub, allowing him a full view of the absolute present she was offering him. She smirked as he was instantly in the water and over to her within seconds.

His hand found purchase in her hair, pulling it to arch her back even more. "Teasing me today, little mate? Do you think it was really appropriate to send me images like that while I was trying to save the cursebreaker?" He placed kissed along her neck and jaw line before whispering into her ear, "Did you enjoy fucking the toy I bought you? It sounded and looked like you did, pretty little thing."

She smiled ferally while looking up at him. "I did no such thing, Rhysand. Are you sure your mind isn't playing tricks on you? We both know old age has started to take its toll." A harsh smack found her round ass making her cry out in pleasure.

"Flithy, fucking, liar." He smacked her ass again, enjoying the way it bounced as his hand made contact, then again and again. He didn't stop until her legs were slightly shaking and her ass was red from the continued strikes. "Am I going to have to fuck some manners back into you, Rhiannon? You are a High Lady. You should behave with more respect."

She felt herself dripping at this point. Rhiannon loved when Rhysand was a gentle dom, but the degrading, angry male she was dealing with right now was her absolute favorite. She loved when he fucked her to release his frustration, and they had a month of build up to this moment.

She'd spent the past month teasing him. Anything from sucking his cock in the broom closet or under his desk, to having him walk into their shared bedroom with her fingers buried inside of her, to riding his thighs in his office, to begging him finger her under a blanket at family reading night, she'd teased her mate with all she had to offer to lead up to this moment, and he had teased her. He'd wake her with his tongue between her legs, he'd send her memories of them. He kept her on edge constantly.

He reached over her, taking her wine and drinking it. "Did you get that cunt ready for me? Or were you unable to follow that order as well?" He ran a single finger along her folds, groaning at her wetness before pushing it in and making her gasp.

She kissed below his jawline, laughing in a way that had his hand wrapping around her throat and him growling in her ear. She began to ride that finger, then the second he added, moaning before finally answering. "Oh High Lord, didn't you just accuse me of showing you how pretty I looked fucking myself with that toy? Did I not do a good job positioning myself in front of the mirror so you could watch every single inch sink into me?"

"Fucking brat." His fingers withdrew from her and went to his cock. He lined himself up and was inside of her within seconds, his hands gripping her plush hips as he immediately set a punishing pace. Rhiannon screamed at the intrusion before quickly falling into moans and whimpers. "What's wrong, pet? Nothing to say now?" She whimpered at a harsh thrust.

The stretch of his cock had her drooling. No toy compared to her mate. To her husband. Every drag had her eyes rolling back, lips parted as she panted in bliss. Her hips began to meet his as his wings appeared, flared wide in dominance. He was growling and moaning behind her, causing her own pleasure to soar higher and higher.

"Such a fucking tight pussy," another hard spank had her squeezing him and crying out loudly. "Gods I've missed your cunt baby. Feels so fucking good. You were fucking made for me." Another spank, then another. Rhys had his head thrown back as he heard his mate crying out below him. He tilted his head, instead watching her reflection in the glass windows as he fucked her into oblivion.

Rhiannon was a true ethereal beauty. Her lips were slightly open, whispering his name and praises, her golden skin flushing with the power of his hips meeting her own, bouncing her full ass on his hips and thighs. Her perfect tits. Her small trim waist. Her head fell softly back in pleasure before falling to the side, her back still arched as he took his pleasure from her.

She was twitching around him with every rich heavy drag of his cock against her. She was begging him for more. "Rhysand, please," a soft moan fell as he moved to angle himself and her to kiss her. A sharp well aimed thrust had her pulling her lips away, "Oh fuck, Rhys!" He began to speed up, hitting that spot. The one he knew all to well from their time together. "Fuck! Yes! Yes! Right there, Rhys!" Her walls were fluttering more and more, the coil in her stomach tightening. "Please! Rhysand please!"

Rhys knew one thing to be true as his name started to fall from her lips in constant breathy moans like a mantra:

He never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. The way he craved her. Whispering her name was enough to breathe life back into places Rhysand didn't even know had died inside of him. She was his. He was hers. From the day he swore those vows to her, until the day they parted this life together.

He felt their bond glowing brightly between them, shimmering and dancing as if it had come alive at this final act of their reunion. He knew also then that he'd never allow anything to come between them. Never again.

"I'm so close, Rhys," he kissed her neck. The hand holding her throat ran down her body as water splashed between them. He found her clit, ghosting it.

"Me too, Rhia. I love you, baby. You know that?" She nodded, whispering to him how much she loved him in return. Her walls were pulsing around his cock, begging him for his release. "I want you to come for me. Come for your high lord."

Rhys pressed on her bundle of nerves, groaning as her pleasure shot through their bond like a well timed arrow. They tumbled over the edge together, Rhysand moaning so loudly he knew the mountains shook as Rhiannon screamed his name. He allowed her to relax, enjoying her little wiggles on his cock as she spasmed below him. He placed gently kisses to her shoulder, coming down much quicker than her and whispering praise into her rounded ear.

She was glowing, and it was then that he remembered why he kept her ready for him at all times. She looked like a goddess, her power humming and replenishing some piece of the realm with the extra magic and energy she found in release. Her eyes were shut, and she circled his neck with her arm, pulling him into a passionate kiss as the bond began to settle back down.

"I missed you," He pulled out of her and pulled her into his lap as he sat in their tub. He pulled the bottle of wine and glass back over to them before taking a drink and offering her one as well.

She placed small kissed on his jaw line. "I missed you too." She leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers lacing with his free hand resting on her stomach. "You two were fighting?"

"She threw her fucking shoes at me." Rhiannon paused looking at him before bursting into laughter. "Rhia, this isn't funny. She threw her Godsdamned shoes at me. One hit me, darling."

"Do you have a booboo?" She began checking him over, dramatically looking for any signs of damage. "My poor Illyrian baby! How ever will you recover? Should I call for Madja? Maybe she will put you on bed rest for a week. I will stay by your side and be your nurse if I must."

Rhys nodded with a smirk at his wife's antics before making eye contact with her. "Keep up that behavior, and I'm going to fuck the attitude right out of you. Your sudden lack of manners is appalling. You spent far too much time with Cassian and Azriel."

Rhiannon smiled, pressing a kiss against his lips. "I apologize my powerful, handsome, intelligent, and cunning mate." He pulled her into another kiss. "Make me a promise, Rhys?" He nodded at the request. "Promise me from here forward we do all of this together. No more one of us is left behind, no more you self-sacrificing, no make fake facade that I am just your little piece of eye candy. Us, from here forward, working together as a team."

He nodded, kissing her shoulder. "I promise you, from here forward, I will take you with me wherever I go, that I will involve you in my choices and decisions. I will never allow something like this to keep us apart for so long ever again. That will end your position as a spy, though, Rhiannon." She nodded at the expected condition. "The priestess knows you are my High Lady," he waved his arm, unglamoring the swirling pattern that covered her right hand and arm. The tattoo he had placed into her skin once she was sworn in as High Lady in secret. "It's time for our family, court, and other High Lords to know as well." He kissed her hand, and each finger.

She leaned in capturing his mouth with hers and relaxed into a long slow kiss. One that was vastly different from the previous they've shared since his return home. It was filled with love, joy, anticipation. She gave him every single ounce of passion she had in her soul and he returned it with his own. They pulled apart, catching their breath together as Rhysand rested his forehead on hers.

"We will begin that process once dear Feyre Cursebreaker is back in Spring. Rght now, darling, we are going to our bed together. So I may ravage you over and over until you are nothing more than a silly cock drunk whore." She giggled as he lifted her out of the water, carrying her bridal style into their room with a wide smile on his face.

"I love you," she whispered as he laid her down on the silk sheets.

"I love you too, Rhiannon."

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

@horneybeach1

@we-were-beautiful

@cat-or-kitten

@twsssmlmaa

@dream-alittlebiggerdarling

@tothestarsandwhateverend

@wallacewillow0773638

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar

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yongislong · 1 year

Text

red light therapy.

genre: mark x gn reader!, fluff, suggestive towards the end, just cute bf markie

note: my first mark fic YUUP ty anon! prett short tbh but i loved writing this, listen to wish you'd ask me by matt maltese when reading! it sets da mood hehe, use of the word princess for a joke but its pretty much gn. not proofread

it'd been a night hanging out with a group of friends at a nearby pub and you and mark were both beat as the two of you stumbled your way towards his navy jeep. none of you had drunk, to be honest jisung had had enough beers for the entire group combined, yet there was something in the air that swayed you both alongside the empty cobble stone street.

mark exhales, fog releasing from his lips from the chilly weather. his arm is thrown over you as you intertwine your hand with his that hung from your right shoulder. you can't help but look up at him, lips pursed as he searched the street for where he last parked his car.

he is so, so pretty. its not fair really. you tell him all the time how much it scares you how pretty he can be while doing nothing. even when he wakes up or is sick. he always laughs it off as says you're the pretty one in this relationship, going on and on about how lucky he is. it always leads to him listing things he loves about you. he always praises you and genuinely looks up to you. always.

he catches you looking at him and you turn away just as quick. he smirks and uses the hand you hold against your shoulders to stick his pointer finger out and poke your right cheek.

"cute," he mumbles.

your cheeks are not just red from the wind anymore.

finally reaching his car, he runs over to open the door for you before you can even reach for the handle. he helps you into the car while he tries to stifle giggles and keep his very serious prince-like act up. you pinch his cheek as a thank you before he closes the door and jogs over to his side. he was clad in vintage cahartt, minus his pink high top converse.

he has a funny look in his eye as he opens up his music app, shuffling his "passenger princess" playlist, again stifling another laugh as you shoot a questioning look towards the drivers seat.

both of your guys' cheeks are still flushed and cold to the touch as he blasts the heater and pulls out of the parking lot to start the journey back to you dorm building.

he hated dropping you off after hanging out. yeah you would stay over his place sometimes but johnny and yuta never really gave you much privacy...

to compensate for this he'd learned the longest route to your place. trying to milk as much time as he could with you while he had you, that is until you moved in together.

he kept a steady hand on your thigh as he drove through the backwoods of your small town. rubbing circles with his thumb to the rhythm of the songs that came on shuffle.

you felt the car slow and eventually come to a stop, never really averting your eyes from the view the late night sky provided outside your window. until you felt a firm squeeze on the flesh of your thigh mark had been gripping.

turning over to him, he's already looking at you. bright-eyed, face clearly swimming with thoughts.

time froze.

one of his hands left the wheel to cup the side of your face. you lean into his touch like a cat and he coos, sucking in a break as you open your eyes back up to look at him through your lashes. he lets his gaze lazily flicker over your features, landing on your lips. the red light caught your face so, so well. it drove him crazy, it was so easy to see.

"god..." he whispers, he didn't even really mean to.

you cutely scrunching up your nose was the only indication he needed to lean in and land his lips on yours.

he sucks on your bottom lip and you let out a whimper. he feels you melt into his palm and he doesn't think he would rather be anywhere else in the world but here right now.

nipping and sucking at your lips, he savors this moment, until the light reflecting off the side of your face changes to green. he moans lowly when he feels you pull on his wrist.

slightly letting his teeth catch your bottom lip as he seperates, he feels as though he's committing a sin when he pulls away and sees you dumbly chasing his lips with your eyes still closed, a pout taking over your pink and bruised lips when you flutter your eyes open and see his adoring expression.

he continues rubbing his thumb over the expanse of your cheekbone as you keep your hand wrapped around his wrist.

he quickly pecks your lips once, then twice, and another two times for good measure. he feels teeth clashing more every kiss as both of your smiles widen.

jolting, a light honk pulls you of your daydream. breaking out into blushing giggles, he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, pressing the gas to resume the route. snaking his hand back to rest on your inner thigh, you cant help but hide your face in your palms as you continue to laugh loudly.

he remembered this even after dropping you off. sitting in the driveway smiling like an idiot. he vows to do this again.

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scarlet-yuno · 3 months

Note

hhi im prett sure requests. are open um. ccan i request. a john x gn rreader ,,,,,, wwho constantly bites him for no reason affectionatelym.y....

a/n : thank you for requesting anon. this was so .delicious nom nom (like john's flesh) ALSOI'M SORRY IF THIS IS KINDA SHITTY PLEASE SEND ANOTHER ASK IF YOU WANT ME TO REDO IT

contents : established relationship, john doesn't know how affection works, but john is a masochist idiot in love, f word is used once

???

got SO confused the first time you did it

you both were cuddling after work, you on top of him, on the couch, he felt like he was in heaven and then SUDDENLY

he has a very high pitched yelp.

"s/o, what the fuck?"

caresses the place where you bit and stares at you with the most offended expression.

forces you to explain. what the hell

gets used to it after a week

if your bites leave visible marks, he gets annoyed but other than that. he doesn't really mind

actually kind of likes it ???

you have conditioned him into accepting this as a perfectly normal form of affection.

congrats

thinks its funny when you bite anywhere other than his neck. it doesn't even hurt him so its just peak comedy

imagine him gently stroking your cheek, face leaning into his palm because you are the only thing that keeps him grounded, then all of a sudden you turn your head and

bursts out laughing when that happens.

he loves you so much (please don't bite that hard)

#milgram x reader #john kayano x reader #john milgram x reader #(no mikoto included or even mentioned actually)#mikoto kayano x reader

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yournaothings · 3 months

Text

Shattered

((Ahem. A short story of human being saved by what they assumed was an angel; only to witness that this so called "angel" was anything but that. *No warnings, I don't think. Talk about Oc's universe/home being destroyed. Hopelessness, feeling of loss, comfort, then betrayal.

I did my best for Shattered Dream, like I had said in a previous post, I don't know much about him. I read the fandom wiki's to kind of help me out. So, possible OOC for him. Probably ooc for him. heh...

The story was inspired by lyrics from "Unbecoming" by Starset.

You found me drifted out to sea

It's automatic

It's telepathic, you always knew me

And you laugh as I search for a harbor

As you point where your halo had been

But the light in your eyes has been squandered

There's no angel in you in the end

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Enjoy the fic!

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"I hope you find your room to your liking. Good night, my starlight."

The room? It was more than I had expected. The large bed was comfortable, covered with silk sheets and a cozy warm comforter. The amount of pillows outnumbered the ones I had on my own bed at home. The rest of the room was very spacious, lined with a wardrobe, a vanity, a body length mirror, a bench that sat at the end of my bed, and in the wall in the middle of the room was a fireplace with a fire burning bright and warm.

The castle was cold and dark when Dream led me to my room. The only light was from the burning torches that sat high up on their holders on the walls. The light from the flames gave the environment a gothic and almost creepy feel to the halls. The fireplace in my room was a comfort for sure. The light from the flames of my fireplace was perfect, as well as the candle lights that sat all around the room. Even the connected bathroom had candle lights burning.

Being here made me feel like royalty. A better feeling than what had had only hours ago when I found myself without a home-

That's right. I no longer have a home. What did Dream say? My universe was destroyed and somehow, miraculously I survived and was thrown into the anti-void? The dull room? Plains? Whatever you want to call the boring, blinding place that is the "anti-void."

I was lost. Walking for hours, I think? I couldn't keep track of time. I didn't even know if it was day or night! My body was exhausted by the time Dream found me. I was lost, and so worn down that I had thought he was a hallucination. But then, he came to me as if he were an angel sent from above! Even though he was a skeleton.

His gloved hand held out while he gave me a brilliant, calming smile. His eyes are pretty gold, as was the circlet he wears on his head. His clothing made him look like an angel of sorts, though they didn't billow like you would see in the movies. But, the yellows were so vibrant, and the green or turquoise bordered the tunic he wore. The black under armor? Or maybe it was compression wear? Whatever it was, it was the perfect look for his outfit, making him look so regal.

I hadn't realized I was on my knees when he found me, dried tears caked to my face. When did I start to cry? It had to have been while I was aimlessly walking about the empty void. With hesitation, I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet, and oh, his voice was so majestic, so imposing.

"There, there. No more crying."

He settled my nerves, my sadness, my anxiety. He told me how he watched me break free from the destruction of my home and fell here.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. Now that I have you, will you allow me to help you?"

I couldn't say no. Not when I had nowhere to go and no home to go back to. Going with him was the safest for me, the only way for me to get out of here.

"My name is Dream."

"Are you a guardian angel?"

He laughed softly at my question, his free hand gently covering his teeth, as if to hide his laughter. His pretty gold eyes shifted to look at me.

"Is that what you think I am?"

I nodded; of course I thought he was an angel! He saved me! His only response was a soft pleased hum as he guided me through a strange portal.

I slept so soundly throughout the night.

I felt so safe. Not even my nightmares could get to me. It was like Dream was protecting me physically and mentally. I knew I could stay here forever, or for as long as Dream allows me to stay. Somehow, I had to repay him for his kindness.

If only I had thought better of the situation when I had met Dream.

The next few days (at least I think it's been days) went by without a hitch. Dream continued to help me out. He conjured up new clothes for me- he must have gone out and bought them! Another thing on my list of things I needed to repay Dream for. The food was very delicious, and his company was soothing. We talked. (I talked to him, Dream listened.) We got to know each other! (Dream got to know my personality, my likes, my dislikes. My comforts and my fears.) Everything seemed to be going well, and I was so happy about it!

"How would you like to live with me?"

Dream finally asked, his elbows were propped up on the dining table and with his fists clenched, his chin rested on top of them. His grin was lazy, relaxed. His eyes were unreadable, but I didn't notice. I perked up and I could feel my lips widening into a grin.

"I would love to! I really like it here!"

Dream chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "Wonderful. I must throw a welcome party for you."

I raised an eyebrow as I finished my breakfast. "A party? You don't have to do that."

"Oh, but of course!" Dream said with enthusiasm! He stood from his seat and started to walk towards the doorway leading out of the dining room and into the kitchen. I grabbed my now empty dishes and followed after him. It would be rather rude to just leave them on the table! As I walk into the kitchen, fully intending on washing my own dishes, I paused and my grin faltered.

Dream walked over to three skeletons who looked oddly similar to Dream. I paused as I looked at each of them and frowned.

"What's going on?"

Dream turned to face me as he stood in between the grinning skeletons. His hands slipped behind his back and hooked together as he stood in a perfect, regal stance. His friendly grin was gone and was replaced with something more sinister looking. As my own grin fell, the skeletons' grins widened.

"We're going to throw a party for you, remember?"

I glanced at each skeleton, then at Dream.

"These are your friends?"

"you sure did pick a stupid one, shattered!" The one skeleton with what looked like a wriggling target on his front spoke with a snarky tone.

Dream hummed with amusement as he seemed to take great joy in my discomfort.

"A naive human, yes. But, they are perfect for what I have planned."

As he spoke, Dream's body shifted into something more grotesque, terrifying so. His body leaked with what resembled black tar that continuously dripped from his body. His left eye socket was covered by his goopy tar, and the right socket remained the pretty gold color I grew to love. I choked on a gasp when from his back four tendrils protruded out and hovered and wiggled behind him.

He pointed to his head, a sickening amused grin widening as his one good eye socket widened in mirth.

"Still think I'm an angel? There was never a halo, pet."

His once majestic voice was gone and replaced with something so dark and frightening. He was a nightmare.

"You tricked me. Into doing what exactly?"

I was hurt, betrayed. I thought he was my friend. I thought he was my savior.

"Anything that I desire of you."

"But, why?"

"Why do you think, pet? A lost soul in the anti-void? You should consider yourself lucky that I found you and not Error."

"I don't know who that is." I shook my head. It was then I felt myself trembling in fear. The dishes were still held tightly in my hands.

"Oh, you'll meet him eventually; and when you do, you can thank him for destroying your home."

My eyes slowly widened as he said this.

"H-He's one of your friends?" Dream's laugh was my answer. "Dream- why?"

"hehe! they're still calling you by that name?"

"his name... is shattered."

"you should be thankful he saved you."

"Heh. I suppose I should give introductions. These will be your friends. Killer, Dust, and Horror."

Drea- Shattered gestured to each skeleton. Killer was the one with the wiggling target, the black tears streamed down his cheekbones and stained his bones. Dust was the one with the mismatched eyes. Blue was what made up the middle, while the red bordered it. I could barely make out his grin. He wore a torn scarf around his neck. And finally, Horror was the big guy with a huge crater on top of his skull. A massive head wound and just below that was one large, nightmarish eye light. His clothing, much like the other two's clothing choice, was torn and bloodied. Horror was the perfect name for him.

I moved without thinking. My dishes fell from my grasp as I turned to run. Where the hell was I going to go? I never left the castle. I didn't even know where this castle was! But, the safest place I knew of at that moment was my bedroom.

"want me to chase after them?" Killer grinned as he summoned his knife.

"i can chop... off their feet." Horror snickered.

Dust grunted in disgust. No way was he running after that human, unless Shattered asked for him to do so.

"No. Let them run. There's nowhere to go. I will always know where they are from now on."

Shattered's laughter echoed through the halls, reaching the ears of the panicked human who was now a prisoner to Shattered Dream and his team of Bad Sanses.

#undertale #sans #dream sans #shattered dream #utmv au #picture not mine #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #bad sanses #dream x reader #reader #shattered dream x reader

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amarguerite · 5 months

Note

i am so c o n f u s e d

ive been seeing u reblogging/talking abt the gilded age among a couple others of ppl I follow/talk abt JA and like............ITS LOOKS PRETTY. SEEEMS LIKE ITS A VICTORIAN ERA THING WHICH IS NICE. but but would it be as inapp as bridgerton?? I can just skip through fucking scenes so I can look at the prett dresses but if theres outright fucking itd be age inapp BUT I need smth to watch while crocheting and this seems like the perfect kinda trashy show to watch

so so as a person whos seen it like should i watch it or not? 😭😭

It’s set in 1882 in the first season and 1883 in the second! It’s very mild, in terms of sexual content. Clothed making out between George and Bertha Russell and then in the second season their son has an ill-advised fling with an older woman that results in them making out while fully clothed and a scene of them chatting in bed while under the covers. I think the most you see is Laura Benanti’s bare leg. ETA: there is a scene in the first season where one character tries to seduce another by being naked in his bed but he gets real mad and immediately makes her get dressed and leave.

It’s a lot of fun, but admittedly it’s fun for me for some very specific reasons. If any of these resonate with you, I’d give it a shot:

1) great costuming

2) nearly every contemporary Broadway star is there to chew on scenery, be witty, and wear hats

3) ridiculous gilded age nonsense where ultra-rich robber barons and “old money” New Yorkers fight over who gets invited to what party. The overarching plot of the second season is about the construction of the Metropolitan Opera House

4) neat subplots featuring genuinely cool female historical figures who accomplished an incredible amount given the societal constraints under which they existed. Last season there was a long subplot about Clara Barton founding the Red Cross and this season there’s a subplot about the female engineer who was actually responsible for constructing the Brooklyn Bridge instead of her husband

5) fantastic scenery

6) a look at the Black elite of New York at the time— a group I didn’t know much about until this show

7) Nathan Lane giving one of the strangest and funniest performances of his long and varied career.

8) on location shooting at big Gilded Age mansions in New York State and in Newport, Rhode Island. The house belonging to the character played by one of my fave Broadway prima donnas, Kelli O’Hara, is actually Lyndhurst House, the actual Gothic Revival mansion of actual Gilded Age robber baron Jay Gould.

9) an insanely high props budget that they use to buy such outlandishly delightful things as penny-farthing bicycles and magic lanterns

Is it a good show? Honestly, I don’t know if I can answer that question.

Is it great if you’re a musical theatre fan who enjoys being able to say, “oh my god that’s Douglas Sills from The Scarlet Pimpernel and Little Shop of Horrors playing the Russell’s chef!” Yes.

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ms-ajt-whumps · 5 months

Text

Handholding and Asthma

Genre: Whump, Fluff. CW/TW: Bullying, Asthma Attack

Fandom: The Adam Project Characters: Young!Adam, Y/n, Ray, Chuckie, Ellie

2332 words

Let me know if any tags of warnings should be added, I want to be sure everything I post is properly tagged.

@almost-gabrielle

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Adam would never admit this, but Ray did scare him a little bit. It wasn't that Ray was actually an effective bully, it was more that he had a couple inches on Adam and serious daddy issues. There was also the chance that Ray would accidentally hurt Adam, worse than he himself was truly capable of. Freak accidents could always occur.

It had started simply enough: Ray had been picking on Adam’s friend Y/n during lunch. Now, it wasn’t that Adam like-liked Y/n, because he really, truly, most definitely, 100%, probably didn’t, but he couldn’t stand by while Ray picked on her. So, he’d instigated. Ray had rounded on him and bolted, and so did Adam. They’d run through the lunchroom and the school, dodging teachers, the principal’s grabbing hand, and other students until eventually Adam (who felt that his lead in the race would save him from a serious ass-kicking) burst outside. He’d hesitated, looking left and right, breathing heavily but not badly, and hurried to one side. He had felt, with his advantageous lead and stable (so far) breathing, that he’d win. He had not. Adam fucking tripped and went sprawling. Ray had been on him in a second, yanking him to his feet and pinning Adam up against a wall, glaring at him. Adam's mouth went a mile a minute. Quips, jabs, one liners, some of them even pretty good. They had flowed out automatically, the easiest thing in the world for him. It wasn't until Adam had said something about Ray and Chuckie being too stupid to snark anything back that Ray had really reacted.

“You turds are standing here like a couple of mute mimes, ventriloquist dummies with no puppetmaster. You really think I'm going to be scared of a couple of meat bags who can't even talk?” Or something like that. Adam couldn't really remember what it had been right now, as he was on his back on the ground, Ray's foot stomped down into his chest.

“You think you're so funny, Reid.” Ray had sneered. He had grabbed Adam by the front of his shirt and jerked him forward and around, pushing him to the ground. “Well, we'll see how funny you are when, …when you've lost!” Ray had put his foot on Adam's chest triumphantly. Chuckie had offered up his hand for a high five, a lumbering and slow gesture, a stupid grin on his face, and Ray smacked it, smirking down at Adam.

“That's your best? Really?” Adam snarked back from the ground, to which Ray pressed his foot down harder. This was when it began. It, the pressure. Then It, the crushing feeling, the internal collapse of systems intended to keep you alive. Damn it, he’d been fine running, even. You'd think providing oxygen to a 98 pound twelve year old would be an easy task, but no, apparently not for Adam's lungs. He sucked in a thin, wheezy breath, looking up at Ray. Adam tried to glare but the fear was setting in. He did the only thing he knew how. “Step any harder on me and I'll have to petition your mom to stop being so fat. The weight was…” he gasps slightly as pain snaked through him, “transferred to you in bone density. Thank God not in fat density, or you'd be enormous.”

Ray looked presently peeved at this, and moved to punch Adam in the face. Adam sucked in another wheezing breath. Chuckie stood stupidly alongside Ray.

“Leave him alone!” An indignant shout rung out across the lot.

Ray's head swiveled to see who it was. The girl from lunch. The quiet one. He smirked. “Go home, you're not involved in this.” He pulled back from Adam, his foot still on his chest, baring his own chest to the girl. He was trying to look big and scary. Ray almost didn't even bother really looking at her, he figured she would be scared off pretty easily, but at the last second caught a glimpse of her expression. His eyes snapped up, a thin trail of dread trickling down him. He saw anger. Crystal clear, unfiltered fury. More than Ray had ever seen, even from his mom when he failed tests. She also looked calm, like she knew precisely how to… how to…

“Let him go,” Y/n said firmly. “Before I have to fuck you up, Ray.”

This made Chuckie nervous; he took an unconscious step backward. Ray looked to him desperately, betrayed. “Chuck,” he hissed.

Adam wheezed tightly again, hands twitching against the concrete, searching for something to hold onto.

She stalked towards the three, a menacing stature about her. Determination, Certainty. “Go, Ray. Before I have to bring you home in a bag.” Y/n was two feet from him when his nerve finally broke. He stepped off Adam, who gasped and coughed, and took a couple nervous steps backward. Y/n looked at him darkly, shooing him away with her hands.

Ray really wanted to be tough, but he kind of believed her. Maybe she would bring him home in a bag. Maybe she was insane or something. He took another couple steps away, still hesitating, looking for an opening he could hurt her through. But there were none, so he ran. Chuckie ran with him of course, much more slowly.

Y/n called, “You're a bitch, Ray! Everyone knows it!” Then she was on her knees, talking to Adam very gently. “What's wrong?”

He wheezed, hands grabbing at his chest. He looked briefly at her, the panic now evident in his brown eyes.

“Asthma attack, Ok. Where's your inhaler?” Y/n said quickly, hands at the ready, hovering in the air over Adam. “You have it with you, right?” Her eyes flashed to his, suddenly nervous.

Adam nodded, coughing, and grappled with the front pocket of his jeans. Y/n pushed his hands away quickly–they fell uselessly to the ground–and wrestled the inhaler from his pocket. She pulled the cap off and tossed it aside, bringing the inhaler to Adam's mouth.

“Ready?” Y/n asked.

He couldn't respond, just coughing and wheezing. He reached for her and grabbed her arm tightly, pulling it towards himself.

Y/n put the inhaler in his mouth and triggered it. “3… 2… 1…” she counted down for him, watching his face closely. Adam let his breath out in a burst of air. Y/n rested a light hand on his chest, keeping the inhaler near his face. “Good?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head, weakly pulling her arm back towards him, brown eyes wide with anxiety and focused on the next dose of medicine. He winced as his lungs wracked with pain again. She put the inhaler back in his mouth and triggered it again. Y/n counted again, watching him closely. Adam relaxed slightly, closing his eyes as he held his breath. He let his breath out slowly, the correct way, and sighed. His eyes flickered open, looking at Y/n with a surprised, trusting expression. He didn't talk for a long minute, just laying tiredly on his back, staring at this girl in front of him. Adam dimly realized that he still held her wrist and awkwardly let go, hand falling to the ground.

Y/n asked, “Should you sit up?”

Adam nodded, tiredly trying to get himself up. Y/n helped quickly, pulling him up by the arms. Adam ended up slumped against her, which made Y/n blush slightly. She supported his weight though, figuring that he needed the contact. Adam still didn't say anything, just breathing slowly. Y/n grabbed his hand and pushed the inhaler into it, wrapping his fingers around it for him. “There you go,” she said softly, feeling awkwardly self-conscious about holding Adam like she was. That wasn’t something that people who were just classmates did.

“Thanks,” Adam finally said. “Ray is a bitch.” He continued to just slump against her, trying to pretend that he would get up soon and that he wasn’t really liking being this close to her. He didn’t have a crush on her.

She nodded, smiling. They sat there in the quiet for a long time. Adam toyed with his inhaler and glanced shyly up at her and away quickly again when their eyes meet. He breathed slowly. “What makes you brave enough to…” Adam asked quietly, his eyes tracking her face.

She shrugged, jostling Adam slightly, looking off into the distance as she considered the question. The way Adam was leaning on her reminded her of the one time when she was a child and had found a puppy with a hurt foot. She’d cradled him too, as a protector. “I just know how to scare him. He's not really that big.”

“Bigger than me,” Adam mumbled, still fiddling with his inhaler.

“Everyone's bigger than you, Adam,” she teased, laughing. Y/n looked back to him, catching a smile on his face.

Adam was laughing too. He found he didn't mind when Y/n teased him. He pushed himself up, sitting alone now.

“I'll have to teach you my tricks.” She smirked.

Adam nodded quietly, triggering another puff off the inhaler into his mouth.

“Do you usually have to do more than once?” Y/n asked curiously.

Adam held up a finger to show that he needed a second. Y/n waited patiently. He let out his breath slowly, then speaking. “For the worse ones.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Quiet again. Adam looked shyly between the ground and Y/n, who pretended not to notice. She looked towards the playground.

The awkwardness present wasn't only because these were two awkward middle schoolers, though that wasn't helping at all, …it was because Y/n had had a crush on Adam Reed for a little while now. Sure, he was scrawny and had asthma but who really cared? His jokes in class always made her want to cry laughing, and he seemed to not care about all the stupid stuff teachers were always trying to make kids care about. It was kind of like he knew what was important in life. Like he knew there was something bigger out there. He looked at her and her insides would do flips and turns and some shy part of her brain would urge ‘look away, look away right now!’ So she stared at the playground. Y/n could feel his gaze on her, and saw in her peripherals that he seemed just as nervous as her. He was looking at her and then away, then glancing back.

The most hopeful part of her brain whispered quietly, ‘What if he likes me too?’ But the protective part was quick to reprimand, ‘don't think like that, he probably doesn't.’ Y/n glanced quickly at him, their eyes met, and she looked away.

Adam looked away too, blushing.

He wasn't sure why he was feeling so nervous all of a sudden, he'd never felt nervous around Y/n before. Usually she would just let him copy off her homework and would trade good snacks at lunch. It was chill. Maybe he was feeling weird ‘cause she'd saved him from Ray, not that Adam wouldn't have survived on his own, he would have been fine. Maybe it was because she had been so smart about his inhaler, or like… something about her not judging him, or… he glanced at her again, noting the pinkish color on her cheeks and ears.

‘Oh, dear god no, please no,’ some part of Adam’s mind pleaded. He glanced at her again. ‘Fuck. …That’s it, we’re fucked. We’re fucked for sure.’ He tried to shush his racing mind, and think like one coherent thought at least but before he knew it was going to happen his mouth said, “Wanna come over and see a movie?” This was punctuated by a mental ‘Fuck! No! What are you doing?!’ But it was too late, he’d said it. Now he was trapped. He stared hopelessly at Y/n, waiting for her to… crush his heart, maybe? Perhaps he was still too young for that. Would she accept? She wasn’t even looking his way, what if she said no? Would he just die on the spot?

Y/n turned to him with an abashed smile and said, “Sure.” She was blushing.

‘Dear god, no! You’ll get cooties or something, god, stop!’ “We could watch something at my house, I’m sure my mom could bring you home after,” Adam said, trying to play it super cool. His hands danced nervously around the plastic inhaler.

She nodded. “That… that sounds good, I’ll bet my dad could pick me up too if needed.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked nervously at him, never wanting to look away but also thinking, ‘I need to blink, did I blink enough? Or too much? God, I’m the worst. This is terrible.’

“My mom should be here soon, we could…” He gestured to the pickup area of the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

Y/n and Adam were sitting on the sofa before the big screen, Alien playing. Ellie was at the kitchen table, trying desperately to comprehend her husband’s tax filing system.

The tension was palpable. Y/n and Adam could basically feel electrical vibrations passing between the two of them. Neither were watching the movie.

“Do you like the… movie?” Adam asked softly, looking to Y/n.

“Yeah, I think so.” Y/n smiled, looking back at him.

Adam glanced over his shoulder at his mom, then to Y/n. His whole brain was screaming not to, but he hesitantly placed his hand onto Y/n’s. His breath hitched nervously, as he waited for her to punch him in the face or scream in disgust, but… her fingers laced into his calmly. Adam glanced up at her, face beet red. She smiled, squeezing his hand in her own.

Adam looked shyly back to the TV, a grin creeping onto his face.

-Fin

#whump #comfort #asthma attack #Bullying #Middle School Awkwardness #Adam Reed #The Adam Project #Fanfic #whumpfic #Asthma Attack #Bully-induced Asthma Attack #soft whump #Walker Scobell #Young Adam Reed #protective!reader #crushes #unwatched movies #handholding #halfhugs and holding

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h-c-u · 1 year

Text

Hanging on Hangman

Summary: Hangman has a crush on the captain's girl and they love to tease each other, but this time it became a bit uncomfortable, especially for Maverick watching you from the distance.

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x younger fem!reader

W/C: 2k

Rating: PG | mentions of sex, but nothing descriptive, age gap

TWs: none

A/N: Poor Hangman </3 | What inspired this scene

Masterlist | List of tags

The summer was really hot and if you were totally honest with yourself, you kinda hated it. Well, the sun was nice, but the temperatures... You definitely didn't like that the sundress you were currently wearing was sticking uncomfortably to your skin. But still, you liked spending time with your man and his work squad. You were not 100% sure, but there was a high chance, that you were the youngest of them all, considering all the ranks, medals, and missions that you saw on their uniforms at every official ceremony, because if not - where the hell did they get the time to get all of that....?

But right now, you observed the volleyball game everyone else was playing; it's not that they didn't invite you, you just hated being so hot with a passion. That's why you were sipping on a cold drink that Jake brought you just a couple of minutes ago; that boy had a crush on you since he saw you for the first time, but he was never inappropriate, just playfully teasing, and it's not like you weren't teasing him right back.

Like when he brought you a drink, for example. He noticed an unfinished sketch of himself in your notebook and just couldn't help himself and made a sly comment about how he got himself a fan. You instantly shot back that if he wanted a fan so much, you could buy him one in a gift shop. It was all fun and games, and you definitely enjoyed the banter and playful competition that you two had going. But some things were a matter of honor and pride… That's why when he approached you after the finished round and made an offhand comment about your non-exist exercise routine, which was simply not true, you knew you could easily prove him wrong.

Maybe you weren't visibly jacked like the squad, but when you were a little girl, you wanted to hug a polar bear, and your dad told you that you can't hug a bear, without lifting it first. It was a joke of course, but your three-year-old brain took it as an obvious challenge. Plus you didn't want to be rude to a polar bear if that was some sort of a custom. It didn't matter that you've never seen one in real life, you still started "training" in secret by lifting your teddy bears in the air and it went down from there. After the teddy bears, there were puzzles and books with bears in them, and when your dad finally found out, he just couldn't help but laugh and started taking you with him to the gym. First, as a joke, because he was convinced that you will eventually give up, but you just… never did… And even now, you were still lifting, it just wasn't as visible on you as a full-body exercise routine that apparently the whole squad followed. Or they were severely dehydrated. Or both. You on the other hand… When your muscles were relaxed, which was almost always, they were soft, squishy, and basically invisible, that's why you were sure that Jake will take the bait.

- Oh, you're so on, Hangman… I bet you'll be the first one to tap out. - you just couldn't help but grin, because your loud words got the attention of the rest of your friends.

- In your dreams, y/n! - he quickly got up, while the rest of the squad gathered closer to your relaxation station to take a break from playing and see what was going on. - Or maybe there is something else in your dreams…? - he asked with a cocky smile, and you only laughed in reply.

- Hah! You wish. - you replied. - I'll go easy on you, baby, what do you say…? I'll be doing pullups and all you'll have to do is stand there and look pretty, which is what you do best… - you finally proposed.

- Did you hear that guys, she called me pretty! - he put his hand on his heart theatrically, and you couldn't help but notice Maverick observing all of you from a bar, where he just ordered a drink. You waved at him and winked, although you doubted he'd be able to see that from that distance. - Challenge accepted. How exactly do you want me…? - he asked, that cocky grin right back on his face, and it didn't quiver when you playfully slapped his biceps. He of course realized that since there was no place for you to actually do pull-ups, you'll most likely be using him as a prop, not that he minded, on the contrary.

It wasn't the first time you were doing this exercise, so you moved his arms into the right position, making sure that his elbow acted like leverage, so he'd be able to last longer.

- Anyone wanna count for the history books? - you laughed when you made sure that his stance was indeed secure.

- Kick his ass, y/n! - Phoenix hyped you up, and the whole squad followed. When you put your arms around his forearm, gripped it, and hung yourself from it, he realized something - you were a bit heavier than he expected; more muscles on your body than fat. You only grinned, an evil spark in your eyes and you did a first pull-up, no problem. And then another. and another... and one more... And the whole squad counted, while the great captain Mitchell observed you all a bit more intensely than he maybe should.

Because you were more than familiar with this specific position, you were extra careful not to rub Hangman's torso with your abdomen when you were coming down, which required a bit more core engagement than usual, and yet you still started to see a panic setting in his eyes after the 10th one, because he realized what such close proximity did to his body. You saw him swallowing more than usual and pressing his lips into a thin white line, so he wouldn't lose focus. You on the other hand got to 15th without any issues, still being very mindful of the way you were positioning your body; you also couldn't help but get a bit closer to his face when you were in the upper position. You grinned again, the evil spark never leaving your eyes.

- Thinking about tapping out, Bagman? - Phoenix shouted, misunderstanding his facial expression for exhaustion. Sure, his arms started to get tired and he noticed that his muscles were slowly starting to twitch, but that's not what he was afraid of right now. He looked down at the sand because he just knew what would happen if he continue to focus on your face and he definitely didn't want that. He didn't reply to any more provocations from the rest of the squad; he just stood there silently while you were on your 20th pull-up. He was visibly uncomfortable and you noticed... It was all fun and games until both of you were enjoying that, but now...

On the 23rd, you pretended that your hand slipped and you released his forearm to a choir of disappointed groans from the squad. You've landed with your knees on the soft sand and he finally looked you in the eyes... He knew what you did and why, especially when you gave him a soft smile, right before you threw yourself theatrically on the ground giving a performance of a lifetime.

- Bagman wins again!!! Nooooo!!! How will I live now...? - everyone laughed again, seeing how into your defeat you were, and Jake played into it as well, throwing his fists in the air and doing a giant victory lap around all of you, and finally sprinting towards the water to cool off in more ways than one, a cacophony of laughter following him until he reached the shore. Phoenix finally helped you get up and shook some of the sand from your hair. and you did the same with your dress.

- Well, that was fun. - you've laughed and walked back to your chair, but it was currently occupied. You smiled and sat unceremoniously on Maverick's lap reaching for the drink you'd abandoned before this playful competition; fortunately, it was still cold. - Hi... - you smiled, and leaned a bit more into the body below you, while Pete put his hand on your hip and pulled you even closer.

- Hi... - he did his best to return your smile, but there was something dark pooling behind his eyes, and you immediately noticed,

- So guys, now that Bagman is finally out of a game due to his cowardly escape and obvious fear of a possible rematch, are you up for another round? That might be your only chance to play without him, cause he's like a very annoying boomerang. - you joked, but they actually got up and went back to a makeshift volleyball field. You weren't sure if they actually wanted to play more, or if they wanted to give you and Mav some breathing room.

- Spill it... - you said when everyone else was out of earshot.

- I'm... - he started, but one warning look from you and he immediately stopped the white lie from reaching the light of day. Instead, he sighed heavily and slumped a bit in the chair. Your whole relationship was based on communicating and addressing any issue as soon as it came to the surface because you both knew that with this unusual dynamic you shared, you wouldn't survive otherwise. - I'm jealous, ok...? - he finally exhaled, as if the word burned on his tongue from embarrassment, and you couldn't help but smile, only a little though.

- Oh, Pete... - you said gently, your expression immediately softening. You crooked your head, so you could catch his gaze, and when your eyes met, he exhaled loudly.

- I really didn't like how close you were to his body, that you were touching him in the same way you were touching me... And y/n... I know that you could have done more pull-ups, so that means you ended it on purpose... Did he get hard...? - he gritted through his teeth and you just knew today's evening will be amazing; all that pent-up jealousy finding a release in marking you in any and every way possible.

- Honestly...? - it was dangerous to tease him when he was like that, but still, you drew the silence for a few more seconds. - I wouldn't know. - confusion was clearly visible on his face. - Core strength... I only touched his forearm. - you covered his hand that was resting on your hip, with your own, and he immediately intertwined your fingers together. - And when I noticed that he realized he went too far, I just let him have the victory, cause you boys and your pride. - you sighed quietly and rest your head on his chest, feeling him finally relax a bit. - And I reserve all my special moves just for you. - you added, and he couldn't help but laugh, his body vibrating under you.

- Ehhh... Sorry I got like that... I guess I'm still afraid you're gonna exchange me for a younger model. - it wasn't hard to understand where that came from due to the age gap between you two, that's why the communication in your relationship was much more important than anything else; if those feelings were left to fester under his skin, stronger and stronger every day, he finally could have exploded and that was the last thing he wanted.

- I am not going to do that exercise with anyone else. - you smiled, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart mixed with a gentle hum of the waves crashing into the shore. - Beside... I choose you every day. I choose to wake up next to you every day, to live with you, and to invite you into my world. And not to mention - it's your name I'm screaming every night. - Mav hummed in contentment like a cat that drank the creamiest of creams, because in a way - he did. What he did to deserve this divine creature, curled up in his arms despite her open hatred of today's weather - he didn't know. But he was ready to do it every day for the rest of his life.

#my writing #🖤#top gun #top gun fanfiction #Top gun maverick #Pete Mitchell #Pete Mitchell x fem!reader #Maverick x fem!reader #maverick fanfic #Pete Mitchell fanfiction #Jake Seresin #Hangman #Jake Seresin fanfiction #Hangman fanfiction #pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader

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kpophubb · 2 years

Text

♡ 𝖤𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ♡

❥ѕнσρριηց ԃαтєѕ ωιтн уσυя єηнα вσуѕ

🄶🄴🄽🅁🄴: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 ᰔ

"𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽, 𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖽𝗈. 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎"

———————————-(☆▽☆)———————————

♡ 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 :~

Okay so hee’s an amazing supporter with great judgment and honest compliments!

The one who remembers your preferences- colours and styling you like and takes you to suggestive stores

Allows you to pick whatever you like. He follows you around the store patiently until you try on everything you select with him by your side

his heart would stop beating everytime you walk out of the dressing room looking so beautiful 😳

And not just you, the whole store staff notices and gets all awweh at the lovestruck way he looks at you 🥺

The wholesome person who suggests you buy the whole complete outfit. Like you buy a dress and he will be dragging you to a heel store, and then a jewelry store then a makeup store and basically EVERYTHING you need to slay that outfit completely!! >.<

He likes getting matching clothes with you. Nothing too cheesy or flashy, just simple same coloured stuffs that he would love to wear with you on the same day like cute couples.

And istg matching shoes are a must!! He would DEFINITELY take pictures of your legs intertwined and giggle about you two wearing the same shoe.

“Ugh baby your feet look so small next to mine how cute >.<“

Clothes shopping is one thing but grocery shopping is JUST ON ANOTHER LEVEL bc the domesticity is unreal 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Will pick a dozen snacks that y’all like, and endless packets of ramen that he’s gonna later cook with you at midnight ~ <3

All in all, shopping dates are a must bc he’s just outright adorable

And not like you could do it alone in the first place anyway, cause he always insists to tag along and accompany his beloved girl!!

♡ 𝗝𝗔𝗬 :~

It goes without saying that he spoils you ALOT

And by a lot, I mean ALOT!!!

He’s got a whole folder in his notes that consist of your measurements and likes/dislikes. Knows your shoe size, dress size and what not

Takes you to high end brand stores and even selects clothes FOR YOU!

And trust his judgement, bc his fashion sense is top notch!

And ofcourse he pays for everything like duh😏

No point fighting him to split the bill cause by the time you come out of the trial room, he’s already paid for everything with his card

Will make you try a lot of dresses to find out what suits you the most and don’t be surprised if he ends up buying you all bc according to him “everything suits you”

Comfy date, cause he will be dumping the bags in the car everytime so both your hands are free and he can hold them 🥺

Honestly, the man who showers you with forehead kisses and compliments and proudly shows off how pretty you are to the whole world! <3

♡ 𝗝𝗔𝗞𝗘 :~

Best. Boyfriend. Ever. >~<

Will ask you out on shopping dates even before you suggest cause man knows you LOVE them

Your hype man #1

Such a gentleman and carries all the dang bags for you. Like HE WON’T EVEN let the shop keepers hand you the bags cause???

You’re his princess and you deserve the princess treatment??

Another one who SPOILS YOU A LOT. He’s just really affectionate he can’t help it

Super observant boyfriend and memorises your every facial expression- the excited face when you feel satisfied wearing sth, the displeased expression when you go around a certain colour; he keeps everything in mind for future uses.

And yeah his “future uses” definitely include surprising you with unexpected gifts 🥺 <3

Pays for everything you pick bc it’s against his pride to let his girl pay

So genuinely whipped everytime you try on something😍

Like he will have evident heart eyes and dramatically compliment you bc he thinks you’re the prettiest girl alive

An angel to be specific. His angel to be more specific 😏

Doesn’t show it much but loves to be spoiled in turn. He melts everytime you pick clothes for him and kiss him saying he looks so handsome !!

10/10 date experience bc he takes you out for lunch later and even gets you the desserts you like ಥ_ಥ ♡

♡ 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 :~

Shopping with sunghoon is a DANG SPORT.

Cause as amazing as he can be, he’s so annoying and does that on purpose to make fun of you🙄

Steals your glorious moment by shamelessly shopping for himself instead

And stops by every mirror just to stare at his reflection and go like “damn why am I so handsome 🤨😌🤩”

You will be showing him an outfit and he’s totally gonna ignore your presence and look around for sth else

But nah, trust me he loves you and loves everything on you hehe, he’s just messing w you a little bc an upset you is so cute ☺️👉🏻👈🏻

Want your revenge on him? Just try something in his favourite colour infront of him and boy will go “😳”

Can’t even hide the blushy cheeks and precious eye-y smile 🥺

Will compensate for his annoyance with food later and lots of cuddles when you come back home <3

It’s a great experience cause he does end up letting you buy everything you like

But don’t ever go grocery shopping with him, it’s a real warning ⚠️

Cause he will literally only pick protein, protein & protein ugh🙄 (living upto his protein monster reputation)

♡ 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 :~

Such a supportive boyfriend !! 💓

Who is extremely patient with you and will follow you around from store to store even if you’re being picky

Never complains, and instead will enjoy the prolonged shopping duration bc every moment with you is precious to him 🥺

Holds your shopping bags and even handbag for you so you can shop with ease

Doting eyes never leaving you during the whole time ᰔ . ᰔ

The best part about him is that he’s an honest reviewer

Will tell you if a certain style doesn’t suit you (which is rare in his eyes) and tell you to pick something that genuinely will look good on you

It’s a loving date 50-50. Cause one time he’s getting you what you like, the other time you’re helping him pick what he likes. At the end of the day, you both return with clothes and stuffs that make you happy happy. 😙

Will. Definitely. Get. Matching. Cute. Phone. Straps. 💖😏

And even matching food bowls and keychains because he’s digging for cute couple aesthetics all the time!!

Oh and sunoo will also be taking you out to a calm and quiet romantic cafe to put a relaxing end to your cherish able day <3

♡ 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 :~

Supportive boyfriend #2

One who suggests the best stuffs bc he knows what you want before you even yourself know what you want 😤

Has a really rational judgement and advices you not to buy sth that you want at first glance

Bc he knows you’re gonna regret things you buy on impulse

Hence that makes him your #1 shopping partner

Finds it really hard and cringes to compliment you, but woof, you know he likes it when he nods subtly and his ears go pink 😳

Won’t ever admit it but is internally whipped to see you look so beautiful in all those fancy dresses☺️👉🏻👈🏻

He loves shopping along with you and has a thing for intentionally colour coding your outfits

But acts all surprised when you notice how you’re buying similar coloured fits. You just chuckle at how adorable he can get without admitting it.🥺

The boyfriend who secretly smiles at you everytime you look away

The appreciative and in love typa smile ofc 💓😏

The cute guy who lets you walk on the other side of the road and buys you ice cream on the way back home

And let me tell you this, everytime he sees you buy hoodies or jackets he will complain that you have the same ones at home so you shouldn’t buy them

But the real thing is THAT he wants you to wear his hoodies instead. Cause the sight of you in his oversized clothes is sweet, fluttering damage to his melting for you heart.🫣💘

♡ 𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗜 :~

A brat 🙄

Who startles you by jumping from behind the display mannequins

And ofcourse try to hang YOU to some hangers😆

Distracted 90% of the time and looking everywhere other than you unless you bribe him with his favourite fish shaped buns to stay still 😒

The baby who loves to be spoiled 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 even if you buy him food, he will be on cloud 9 from joy and happiness >.<

But istg he can be a real sweetheart too <3

He’s the type to buy you lots of gifts when you least expect it

Like you might be looking for him while buying a dress and think he’s left you AGAIN but in reality he’s gone to get you the bracelet you always wanted <33

And you won’t even need to express that infront of him cause he’s always checking your wish list like your personal santa!!

Buys matching earphones and phone cases and ofc clicks pictures of an unnoticed you shopping bc he might not be staring at you when you do so, but later on he will look at those snaps and giggle by himself at how lovely you are!! >~< 💕

————————-тнє єηԃ

🄰/🄽: this is just a lil scrap! :p hope you enjoyed and if you did, please reblog and leave your feedbacks in comments and tags! ^_^ ♡

❥p⃨r⃨e⃨v⃨ w⃨o⃨r⃨k⃨ ☞ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎

Masterlist

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ikemenomegas · 11 months

Note

I figure I should send something in for your 200 follower thing but I have no brain cells so just give me slut shit with Akutagawa. Consider it a free space, write whatever slut shit you want for him. 🖤

Babyyyyyy, the baby boy 🤩 Ryu (that's short for Ryunosuke 😉) Aku! Angry little spicy baby!!!!

This whole event has truly been an exercise in going "i think i know what that means .... do i know what that means [insert frantic typing]" So I really need you to know the ideas here came from an article titled "30 ‘Slutty’ Things Every Woman Should Do Before Hitting 30".

8. Join Tinder. And actually meet up with someone from Tinder for a meaningless fling.

Given that Ryunosuke is one of the more wanted men in the city, you know this is going to have to be quick.

"Why are we doing this again?" your mate asks you, even while he dutifully fills out the profile questions, tilting his phone so you can help him choose pictures.

"I'm curious," you reply.

"About what?" he sighed as the loading bar slowly crawled across the screen.

"If you'll see what I see. And what you see."

He growled faintly but you just rubbed your cheek against his shoulder.

"Do you want me to choose Alphas or--"

"Everyone. This is an experiment, Ryu, one mustn't show bias."

"It's Gokon," he said, skeptical. And yes, the speed-dating style app was a bit of a silly thing, but you wanted to see him try it. You wanted to see how many people he matched him. You wanted him to see it. And maybe you were being a little silly and trying to see exactly what kind of people he chose.

It's not as though you were worried about Ryunosuke leaving, there was just a part of you that was curious what he would pick out of a lineup. You were a given choice, but the others were a complete mystery.

You watched him swipe left and right, filling up the "room" he had been assigned. There seemed occasional similarities of features, but some choices were complete wildcards to you.

He alternately scowled and flushed as he replied to the chats, the timer in the corner of the screen ticking down until they each fell away into a little icon in the opposite corner. He sometimes asked for your help, and because you could never completely abandon the love of your life, even to a scheme of your own devising, you'd offer ideas for replies or flirtatious lines to send back, whispering them in his ear or murmuring them against his jaw just to feel him shiver.

When the time was up, the slightly stunned look on his face at the sheer number of matches offering themselves to him made you near giddy.

He couldn't see the wicked grin on your face, which was just as well when you leaned over his shoulder and asked, "Now which one would you pick for a threesome?"

Ryunosuke startled, the high arc of his cheekbones burning red. Before he could answer, the screen fizzled black.

You sighed, "Too bad." Looked like the local authorities had caught onto his profile being present in the app.

With expert efficiency, your mate broke the phone open and plucked out the chips inside, which Rashomon ate with a satisfied little grumble.

"I don't understand you sometimes," Ryunosuke said.

"You never had a fling before," you tell him, as you left the back room of the restaurant you had taken temporary refuge in. "And sometimes I don't think you know how wonderful you are."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't worry about it. I have you."

"But that's just it. You've only ever had me. I don't want you to miss out of things just because I'm here."

A hot biting note rose to the top of his scent.

The next thing you knew, you were being yanked around the corner by your wrist.

"Do you miss out on things?"

You blinked at him. "Of course not. Even if you got tired of me, I don't think I could ever fall in love with someone else. You're it for me."

Ryunosuke cleared his throat of a little cough, looking flustered.

You stepped close to his chest, into his space so your scents twined together. "Are you sure you don't want to try it? Take some pretty thing out for a walk, let them push you up against the wall. Depending on how far you want to take it, I could come and rescue you. You look very cute when you need to be rescued."

Ryu looked a bit like he wanted his coat to swallow him, a bit like he had a fever. He tried to clear his throat again and it came out as a strangled little squeak. His hands were so pliant in yours when you pressed your fingers in the spaces between his.

You pulled him further into the shadows, tucking close together to conceal his distinctive silhouette as footsteps clattered by the mouth of the alley, but passed with barely a pause or further investigation.

You mouth was right by his ear when you whispered, "Either way, just let me know."

You knew you probably wouldn't receive an answer for some time but you snickered at his discomposed little growl.

3. Give a blowjob when you shouldn’t.

I think Akutagawa would both do this and let it be done. He can be taught to lay aside shame, and it in fact would be very good for him. All of his mentors so far have controlled him in some way by shaming him for not behaving in the inhuman ways they instruct him in. If you can get him to let go of that, he would do the most unhinged slut shit including:

"You need to be on the top of the Ueno Exchange on the third," Dazai's melodious voice gave instructions on the other end of the line.

You sank deeper in your chair, untroubled, spreading your legs wider and twisting back and forth.

Between your knees, Ryunosuke whined, pleading silently for you to stay still. You caressed his face, carding through his feathery hair, praise and apology at once.

In his eyes was a faint remnant of that hungry need you had first seen years before, eyes fixed on where the voice that had once dictated his world emanated from. Far more present was the glassy haze of desperate arousal, matching the sheen of saliva around his mouth, which was around you. Still, you nudged the settings on the vibrator inside of him one level higher.

A muffled, aching sound was pressed in the crease of your thigh as your mate leaned forward, his fingers gripping the floor.

"What was that?"

"Just penciling it in." Which was a straight up lie because you knew better than to write plans like this down, but with the Demon Prodigy it was never unwise to lay a few false threads, just in case.

"One more thing."

"Hm?" You wrapped your hand around the back of your mate's head and pulled him further onto you, slowly, giving him time to tap you on the ankle to tell you stop if he needed to. He didn't.

"Bring Akutagawa," Dazai added.

You let silence stretch between you two, even though you suspected Ryunosuke's old mentor was immune to the discomfort of such things.

"Why?"

"You might need a guard," came the unconcerned reply, "and he's always been such a good dog."

The pressure of Ryunosuke's mouth became more insistent and you carefully swallowed down a hungry sigh.

"He's not a dog," you said clearly, and then you hung up.

There were tears in Ryunosuke's eyes. You didn't know whether that was because you were hitting the back of his throat or the exchange.

You held out the remote control. Your mate just closed his eyes, the tears falling free down his cheeks.

"You're so beautiful," you breathed wonderingly, and then you pressed the vibrations to the highest level.

He came, arching his back, his mouth coming free from you, throwing his head back with a high gasp. You used your own hand to finish, pointing your release onto the apex of his tightly pressed thighs where it mixed with his.

He remained that way, bowed, for long minutes as the vibrator pushed his climax long and hard until your mate was nearly humping the air, little sounds of near-pain falling from his mouth.

You slipped from your chair and gathered him into your arms. You felt the cruel pulsing of the toy in side of him push him right over the edge into another orgasm in the way he shuddered against your shoulder, hands tucked to your chest.

"You did so well," you murmured, slowly turning the vibrator down, as you offered him praise, both for withstanding being a witness to that conversation, and for his show of strength.

He breathed hard and ragged against you trembling from the exertion and the aftershocks. He groaned as you reached a hand down and coaxed his thighs open. He was so wet, your fingers slid into him easily, but you had a hard time grabbing the toy.

"Push for me," you coaxed.

You felt him flex around your finger, his head tilting back. You felt the toy but when you tried to grab it, it slipped back inside.

"Again," you soothed, running your hand through his hair.

"Hnrgh." He groaned, doing as you instructed.

This time, you pulled out as he pushed, catching the little vibrator in your palm along with a splash of slick. Ryunosuke panted, his head falling to your shoulder as you gently brushed your thumb around his opening.

"What am I, if not a dog?" His voice creaked, gravely.

"You're mine, Omega. As long as you need to be."

He sighed into your neck.

[Much later on, you could also pull this trick in reverse where you're performing fellatio on Akutagawa, but while he's talking to Mori. But instead of keeping his mouth busy as a sexy version of deconditioning, it's truly just slut business ;). Akutagawa is trying so hard to keep himself under control which involves a much different mindset than his typical calls from Mori, and Mori calls him out on it, resulting in a much more erotica type result where Akutagawa has to lie about what's going on while you try very hard to get him to come]

25. Play a game of strip poker with a large group of friends. - this one is crack being treated as... something, I just think Akutagawa has no physical shame, his is all psychological.

This one was not at all your idea.

Akutagawa was sitting very calmly, sleeves rolled up looking faintly amused every time you glanced up at him.

Higuchi was without her jacket or her socks and shoes. A subordinate of Hirotsu-san, as well as the man himself, and Nakahara-san were present as well.

Akutagawa had said they needed a dealer for a game of poker with full implication that you would be the house. He'd said nothing about you playing along with him. The atmosphere was relaxed, or at least as relaxed as any high level gathering of mafia members ever got. You were progressively suspecting however that this was Akutagawa's version of "meet the parents".

You just didn't know why it had to be a game of strip poker that you were losing.

"Oh, what the hell," you muttered. You'd already lost your shoes, your watch (to which Nakahara-san had just rolled his eyes), and your socks. You shimmied around inside of your sweater, unbuttoning the shirt inside and pulling it out to toss on the back of your chair.

The corner of Akutagawa's mouth turned up, ever so faintly as he undid the cloth around his neck and folded it neatly over his armrest.

"When does the game end again," you squeaked.

"When only one remains," Nakahara-san said forebodingly, scowling at his cards and then throwing them back on the table so he could start unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"Or we all get bored and give up. It's why we play so everyone who folds also loses. The game goes quicker that way. Don't worry," Hirotsu-san said, much more like the kindly grandfather he resembled, "it's nothing we haven't seen before. You're the only newbie."

Somehow, that didn't help at all.

You felt like you were going to combust. Everyone more or less kept their modesty, but it was like being at the sauna, trying not to catch anyone's eyes as everyone gradually divested themselves of their covering.

Hirotsu had lost three hands ago and then bowed out. His subordinate had gone after Hirotsu with a cheerful wave at Akutagawa. Higuchi was gamely proceeding, but her poker face was immaculate and you weren't sure if she was going to win the round or not. Akutagawa on the other hand had a few very bad rounds and was sitting shamelessly in his chair with his coat draped around his shoulder for warmth, but bare of everything but a criminally subtle pair of lace briefs. You weren't sure if Higuchi had even noticed, but she was sitting ramrod straight and the tips of her ears had been red for a full fifteen minutes.

You were getting the distinct impression Nakahara-san just liked poker, but he was also winning and wore a truly ridiculous amount of layers.

That didn't make you less aware of how lovely Akutagawa was. You had never seen him in this state of undress, but now you were wondering if that was only because you'd been trying to be polite, chivalrous, and hadn't asked.

You all laid down your hands. It was Higuchi who barely seemed to relax. Nakahara-san just sighed.

Akutagawa blinked, barely a reaction and slid his fingers just inside the waistband of the last stitch of clothing he had on.

You flew out of your chair, feeling like every inch of your skin was on fire and completely forgetting about how little you had on yourself.

You put your hands on top of Akutagawa's. He looked up at you with surprise, as though he had no idea why you were out of your chair.

"Wh-what do we do after we're out of clothes," you scrambled for anything to explain why you were suddenly blocking him from the rest of the room.

"We don't usually get that far," Higuchi admitted, her voice very carefully without inflection.

"That's not true," Nakahara-san protested. "If you're still playing and you win you get to pick something to put back on."

Higuchi coughed once, very obviously.

Nakahara-san looked up, and went "Oh."

"Alpha you also lost," Akutagawa said, his low voice unaffected.

Nakahara-san stood up and stretched and gathered his discarded items. He was the only one in anything that would pass on the street. "It was a good game but everyone knows I was going to win. It was nice to meet you," he said politely, and then he walked out.

Akutagawa tried to rise and bid farewell, but Nakahara-san thankfully waved him off.

Higuchi was much less subtle, hurriedly pulling her blouse back on and tugging on her own sweater. "I'll be at headquarter's, senpai," she said, and then she too hurried off.

"Okay," Akutagawa said, leaning around you.

He looked back up at you one more time and then flipped over the cards in his hand. He thankfully still had his underwear on.

"You still lose," he said your name. "Take something off."

You just put your head in your hands.

#akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa #bsd #omegaverse #alpha!reader #nsft #under the cut #ask answered #follower event #spice and nice #I hadn't decided on a background for this alpha until i worked on this #but from this i know the two of them are freaks together #and i love that for the baby boy #although this is really filthy and I don't know if that's what you had anticipated XD #i find strip poker a highly unlikely game to play even in the japanese mafia and especially in mixed company but it's thematic not exact lo #io.sxc #io.omegas

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xoteajays · 7 months

Text

in our bones.

relationship(s): takeshi x female!oc, marco x cosette, pi & yu. fandom: high&low. word count: ~8500. ao3: link. summary: Hinami and Takeshi have had crushes on each other for almost a decade. They’ve been best friends since childhood, they know each other inside and out … except for that one thing that apparently everyone else but them can see. When Takeshi confuses Marco’s well meaning lunch invitation for asking Hinami out on a date, it sets off a chain reaction that threatens to change the friends’ relationship for good. h&l tag list: @hiddenqveendom ** reblogs, likes/kudos, and comments appreciated!!

It gets boring sometimes, waiting for the SWORD leaders to finish their meetings when they get to arguing. It’s not necessarily loud, they’re not yelling, but they are sniping at each other and the rest of their respective members are stuck waiting for them to resolve it. Most of them get along, even if they usually stick to their own gangs.

Pi leans up against a concrete pillar, sighing quietly and shutting his eyes. It doesn’t seem like they’ll be leaving any time soon. Rocky, Smokey and Cobra are having the polite disagreement of civil individuals, though are clearly trying to not snap at each other the longer it goes on. Murayama and Hyuga are bickering amongst themselves about something unrelated, but they’re louder than the former trio.

Yu laughs, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a grin. He elbows Pi in the side, then nods his chin towards Takeshi, who’s sitting and frowning, not paying any attention to the bickering leaders.

“It looks like steam’s going to start coming out of his ears,” Yu teases.

Pi tracks Takeshi’s gaze, then he laughs too.

Hinami is leaning up against a pony-wall towards the back of the room, tossing up and catching a couple of colourful ohajiki pieces that flash in the dim light. Close at her side is one of the White Rascal’s SMG boys; Marco, Pi thinks, if he had to guess. He’s much taller than her and is leaned down slightly to talk with her.

The guy says something and Hinami laughs and Takeshi tenses, his jaw tight. The watching duo can’t help but cackle and Yu knocks into Pi’s shoulder, leaning against him. Pi had been watching Takeshi’s crush on Hinami develop for almost a decade, Yu had joined in his amusement too when he’d eventually joined the group; to them, it’s still funny seeing Takeshi pout and pine.

“What’s so funny?” A voice cuts in.

Pi and Yu jump. Takeshi has no reaction to their new companions.

The Daruma Ikka Babies had snuck up, joined by the remaining trio of the SMG, all curious to what Pi and Yu were so animated about. Being newer members of SWORD, the two groups seemed to gravitate towards each other. The one who had spoken - Agyo, Pi thinks his name is - raises a brow, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his colourful hoodie. Yu tilts his head towards Hinami and the SMG member.

“Takeshi has this huge crush on her,” he replies. Pi elbows him in the side and Yu pouts at him, rubbing his ribs. “What? It’s not like he’s paying attention anyway.”

He’s right. Takeshi is still just staring, a frown drawn on his lips.

The Babies and SMG look over. Hinami’s hoisted herself up onto the pony wall, lightly bouncing the curve of her makeshift flex-foot prosthetic against it. She’s passed one of the larger ohajiki pieces to Marco and they’re flipping them like coins and catching them, seeing how high they can get them without dropping them.

“She’s prett-“ Cosette starts.

“What happened to her leg?” Ungyo says at the same time. Futa leans around to slap the back of his head. “Ow!”

“Something happened when she was a kid, she doesn’t really talk about it, even with us,” Pi answers simply, “Takeshi's probably the only one of us that knows anything about it.”

“Well, anyway, I don’t think Takeshi has to worry ab-ack!” Heidi glowers, confused, at Cosette who had stomped on his foot to shut him up.

“So what’s Takeshi deal with her? Doesn’t she know? He hasn’t told her?” Cosette asks, ignoring Heidi’s pouting.

“He’s tried,” Yu replies with an all-too-knowing smirk.

“He keeps wimping out of confessing,” Pi continues, “It’s been at least three times now that he’s backed out last minute.”

“Seriously?” Cosette deadpans. Pi nods.

“Hey, we’re leaving!” Kizzy suddenly calls out to them. The SMG boys perk to attention.

“Okay!” They all quickly respond in unison.

Kizzy rolls her eyes, turning on her heel to stroll back over to where Kaito’s waiting by their respective bikes. Rocky and Koo are talking as Rocky swings his leg over onto his bike, settling. He looks a little annoyed.

Apparently the leaders had resolved while the group were chatting - or they’d at least given up for the night.

The Babies hurry back to their own gang with swift goodbyes to the others. Sakyo’s already starting up his car. They knew full well that he’d leave them here and make them walk home if they didn’t hurry. The SMG trio start to leave too.

In his periphery, Pi sees Takeshi shift, standing up. His shoulders are still tense and solid. Looking passed him, he watches as Marco takes Hinami’s hand, helping her down off the wall before pressing the ohajiki piece into her palm. They both smile and Hinami is nodding in reply to something before waving goodbye as Marco heads off to join the rest of the SMG.

Hinami starts to head back towards where the other Rude Boys were sitting. Yu holds back a laugh as he watches Takeshi attempt to look casual, as if he hadn’t been watching her the whole time; Takeshi’s gaze downturns, fiddling with the knotted thread of a friendship bracelet she’d made for just the two of them years ago.

Smokey joins them shortly before Hinami does.

“Time to go home then?” Hinami asks, stretching her arms above her head. “Did you figure it out? Whatever you guys were -” she pauses, readjusts to not say ‘bickering about’, “- discussing?”

Smokey sighs.

“We’re at a stalemate. Cobra and Rocky are going to clear their heads and come back to it at the next meeting,” he replies simply, then nods, “Let’s go home.”

Far enough away from the Rude Boys now, Heidi whacks a hand against Cosette’s bicep before he can get on his bike. Cosette narrows his eyes at him in a flower, rubbing his arm.

“What?” He asks, frowning.

“Why did you stop me from telling them you’re dating Marco?”

Cosette smirks, shrugging his shoulders as he swings onto his bike.

“Let’s just say I’m curious to see how this is going to turn out.”

Cosette doesn’t escape that question so easily since, come nightfall, when the SMG guys are back in the apartment they share, Marco is posing it to him again.

Relaxing back on his futon, he’s flipping a page of his book when Marco flops down next to him and leans his cheek on Cosette’s shoulder, glancing at the page. There’s a brief silence then -

“So what’s this I’m hearing about you guys talking with the Rude Boys today?” Marco asks, head tilting to look at Cosette, setting his chin on his shoulder.

“Takeshi thought you were flirting with his crush,” Cosette answers plainly, flipping the page.

“Hinami?”

“He seemed really jealous too.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

Cosette closes the book on his thumb, finally focusing his gaze on his boyfriend.

“Apparently he’s had this huge crush on her for years but hasn’t told her. Maybe if he thinks that she’s going to get snatched up by some other guy, it’ll push him into actually confessing.”

“…So you’re meddling?” Cosette thumps his head with the book and Marco drops onto his back on the futon, “Ow, hey! C’mon, Cosette, what if he tries to fight me? I don’t want to fight Takeshi! He’s scary with that kick move he does.”

Cosette tosses his book aside and swings over the top of Marco, kneeling over his waist and planting his hands on the futon either side of Marco’s head.

“You think you can’t beat him?”

“I think he’ll kick me hard enough to break my ribs.” Marco hooks an arm over Cosette’s neck, pulling him closer, “Are you gonna look after me if he does?”

“Depends on if you win or not, even with broken ribs.”

“So mean, Cosette.”

He just smirks, leaning down to kiss Marco. From the hallway, they hear Lassie groan and then the door to Cosette’s room slams shut.

The sun is warm and high in the sky the next day. It’s a hot day in Nameless City; the sunlight quickly heats the metal structures, it’s as uncomfortable inside the makeshift houses as it is outside. The only respite comes in the small areas of shade and too-old electric fans. Pi, Yu and Takeshi are sweaty and each trying to catch the thin fan-forced breeze. Takeshi shoves Yu off when the latter leans in too close while trying to follow the rotating fan; it’s too hot to be in such close proximity.

The three glance up as they hear Hinami approaching, her gait easily recognisable by her prosthetic. She looks more put together than usual; she’s wearing some of her nicer clothes, not a tear or repairing stitch in sight. There’s a new bandage wrapped around her stump and half-up her thigh, disappearing beneath the length of her skirt. Takeshi shifts to give her room to sit, but she stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t bother moving, I’m not hanging around,” she says, smiling lightly. The three stare, confused.

“You going somewhere?” Pi asks.

“Yeah. With Marco.” She says it so casually, fixing and straightening out her skirt. Pi sees Takeshi balk.

“Nami … are you sure that’s okay? SWORD isn’t really fighting that much anymore, but are you sure it’s safe to be going into White Rascal territory?” Takeshi asks, concern creasing his features, thinly veiling jealousy. Yu and Pi share a knowing look, then Yu hides a smirk by ducking his head.

“Hence why we’re not going into the Rascal’s area, we’re going to Little Asia,” she says, hiking her bag higher on her shoulders. Takeshi’s mouth twists, but he doesn’t say anything.

There’s a rumble of motorbikes approaching and Hinami looks over, waving as she spots Marco; she’s not surprised to see Cosette riding alongside him.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Hinami calls as she heads off towards the SMG boys.

“Have fun!” Yu hollars back, “Bring us back something delicious!”

Hinami throws him a thumbs-up, then turns to take a helmet Marco offers her and puts it on. Swinging her leg over the seat of the bike, she sits and sets her hands behind her on the grab rail.

Takeshi’s still frowning as he watches the trio ride off, then swings up onto his feet to storm off. Pi watches after him, rolling his eyes. Yu immediately moves to take his spot, sighing in relief as the fan rotates back towards him.

“He’s going to be a grump all day now,” Yu comments, leaning back on his hands. Pi nods, mouth twisting as he replies.

“Yeah, but it’s his own fault for getting in his own way all the time.”

Takeshi flops down in the shade of one of his and Nami’s hiding spots. She’d found it first, some little hollow up on one of the roofs, joining two buildings, just big enough for two people. It’s one of the few places that stays cooler during these hot days, even with the absence of a fan.

He stares up at the low roof. Nami had jammed old glow-in-the-dark stars up there a few years ago. Most of them had fallen off by now, but a large handful still glint pale green, never actually glowing due to her lack of light that reached them. Leaning on his elbow, he stretches a hand out to flatten the curling-off point of one star, though the peeling-up sticky side is already dark with dirt.

He sighs, dropping back and tucking his hand behind his head.

It’s stupid to be jealous. He should’ve known that someone would ask Nami out eventually. She’s beautiful, not even the drear of Nameless could dampen that. More than that, she’s clever. Witty. Kind.

And now she’s out on a date because he’d never managed to open his mouth and tell her how he felt.

The image of her climbing onto the back of Marco’s bike flashes into the forefront of his memory. That smile on her face. The exact smile that had kept him going for years. The exact smile he’d been in love with since he was 13. His only solace was that she hadn’t swept her arms around Marco’s waist as she sat on the back of his bike.

He lets out another long sigh, digging the heels of his palms against his eyes as if he could scrub the memory from his head.

It’s not often that Hinami gets out of Nameless City, and certainly not as far as Little Asia. She takes in the scenery as they drive and it’s not too long until they’re pulling in to park. In a way, Little Asia is a lot like Nameless, a bit rough around the edges but with a clear community within.

“I swear, there’s a shop here that makes the best mapo tofu in Japan,” Marco insists as Hinami hops off the bike and passes her helmet back to him.

He takes the lead and Hinami and Cosette follow along. They’re an odd bunch, standing out within Little Asia. Marco and Cosette wear their typical monochrome white outfits, Hinami isn’t sure how they keep it so clean. There’s not even a speck marring the bright fabric.

Hinami’s outfit might not catch many looks, but her prosthetic has always drawn attention; it’s a makeshift flex-foot cheetah, built out of spare parts by a man that had landed in Nameless after losing his job and then subsequently his home. Takeshi had managed to convince him to build it for her through a series of trades and odd jobs, and even got him to upgrade it as she outgrew it over the years.

Little Asia is full of twists and turns, and it’s crowded. Cosette sticks close to Hinami’s side as they follow behind Marco, keeping an eye on her; she supposes it’s a White Rascal thing.

Hinami can’t help but view the town through the gaze of someone who lives in Nameless City; she can piece together areas where she could climb or run along, which buildings were close enough together to jump across the roofs. It’s a whole new track, there’s a kind of giddiness in her chest at the thought of racing around here with her guys.

They turn onto a street with food vendors on either side and tables lining all the way down the middle in off-kilter rows. Marco glances over his shoulder at his two companions.

“You guys go find a seat, I’ll order,” Marco offers. Hinami moves to grab her purse out of her bag when Marco stop her, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay.”

“You don’t have to,” Hinami starts, but Marco stops her again.

“Seriously. I invited you, I’ll pay.” With that, he turns heel and heads off towards one of the shops while shooing them off towards the tables.

Hinami huffs quietly, then glances at Cosette.

“Any chance that if I give you the money, you’ll give it to him later?”

“Nope,” Cosette answers smoothly. Hinami laughs.

“You White Rascals are really pushy with this whole ‘gentlemanly’ thing, huh?”

It’s Cosette’s turn to laugh as he guides her towards one of the empty tables. They sit across from each other; Hinami shifts her bag onto her lap, Cosette leans back in his chair. From where they’re sitting, Hinami can see Marco at a shop-front stall, letting a pair of girls go ahead of him. She smiles lightly.

“Have you two been together long?” She asks, nodding towards him. Cosette glances over at him, a fond smile growing on his lips.

“A little while; started not long after we joined the Rascals actually. He’s … sweet.” Hinami smiles a knowing kind of smile and Cosette blushes slightly. He shakes it off, deciding it’s time to put the attention on her now. “What about you? Are you with someone?”

Hinami shakes her head, her smile slipping a little as she fiddles with an old tarnished ring on her finger. It makes her skin greenish when she wears it too long, but it’s a favourite of her’s.

“But you like someone, right?” He’s pushing now. She’s slightly pink, a little embarrassed when she finally replies.

“Well …”

“Oh, let me guess. One of those Rude Boys, right?” He pauses, as if thinking, like he doesn’t already know. He smirks, leans on the table closer to her, like it’s a covert conversation. “Is it Smokey? The whole leader thing is hot, right?”

Hinami laughs.

“No. Not Smokey. Geez, he’s like a big brother.”

“Tell me it’s not Pi.”

Another sharp laugh in response, nose crinkling.

“No way! Pi’s just a friend.”

“What about Takeshi?”

Hinami pauses, mouth twisting, her gaze flickering away.

“… Takeshi’s my best friend.”

Hook, line, sinker. Cosette leans his arms heavier on the table, it rocks slightly on it’s uneven feet.

“But you like him more than just as a friend, don’t you?” She’s quiet. “He doesn’t know?”

“He’s my best friend, how could I tell him? If he doesn’t feel the same way …” she trails over.

He watches her thumb over a threaded string bracelet on her wrist, it looks old, clearly worn daily. He’d spied a matching one on Takeshi’s wrist, partly hidden by a cuff, but there’d been no sight of one being worn by Pi or Yu.

“You think he doesn’t feel the same way?”

She shrugs.

“I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to mess up what we have. I just … want to keep him close, even if only as a friend.”

“What if it doesn’t ruin it?”

“Huh?”

“What if he likes you too? Wouldn’t you rather not have to hold back your feelings?”

Hinami frowns, falling quiet.

“Why is it so serious over here?” Marco cuts in, more concerned than curious, and carefully balancing three bowls in his grip. Cosette reaches out to take one of the bowls before it can drop.

“Just talking about relationships,” Cosette replies. Marco narrows his eyes at Cosette, a warning, then smiles at Hinami as he passes her a bowl.

“Well, forget about that and let’s eat.”

Hinami just nods, eager to eat and clear her head.

Marco’s right, the mapo tofu is delicious. Hinami can’t remember the last time she’s been so full after a meal. When they’re finished, the boys follow along with Hinami as she heads to a few stalls, buying some food for the rest of the guys back at Nameless. There’s a lot of options, she almost can’t decide on what she wants.

The plastic bag’s soon full and it’s getting close to sunset, so they head back to the boys’ bikes. The ride back to Nameless is just as interesting as the ride to Little Asia, albeit Hinami’s mind keeps swirling back to her conversation with Cosette.

Why hadn’t she ever told Takeshi how she felt? Especially when she’s been feeling it for years? She’d never liked anyone else like she did him. Nobody knew her all the way down to her core like he did. Nobody else had seen her at her worst like he had. Was Cosette right? Could she really stand to be holding back these feelings forever? Would it be better if she said something, even if it changed their relationship?

She dwells on the thoughts for so long that she’s surprised when the bike slows to a stop and they’re back at Nameless City. Hopping off the bike, she passes the helmet back to Marco, thanks them both for the day out, and then waves as they drive off.

It’s not hard to find the guys. As usual, they’re hanging out together. Pi and Yu perk up as she approaches while loosely swinging the bag in their direction. She’s sure they’re more excited for the food than seeing her return. Pulling out two of the plastic dishes, she passes the bag to Pi, and he and Yu quickly scrabble to dig through it all.

“Hey, don’t forget to share with Lala too,” she says, kicking her prosthetic into the side of Pi’s thigh.

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Pi says, waving her off, slapping the side of the prosthetic’s socket. She lightly whacks him back with her free hand.

Walking passed the duo, she holds a bowl out to Smokey, who takes with a polite ‘thank you’.

“I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s some soup thing. The lady said it had some really good health benefits,” Hinami explains. It’s the best she could think to do; at Nameless, they still hadn’t managed to pull together the money to get Smokey the medical attention he really needed.

By his expression, he seems to understand her intentions, smiling lightly. He knows how much they all worry about him.

“What’s that?” Yu asks, nodding towards the remaining plastic container in her hand. Hinami holds it closer to her chest, away from his greedy gaze.

“It’s for Takeshi. Where is he anyway?”

Pi and Yu both shrug, going back to dig around in the bag. Even they didn’t know all the places Hinami and Takeshi hid around when they wanted to be alone. Hinami glances towards Smokey.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning. He headed off somewhere after you left,” he answers simply as he moves to sit down with Pi and Yu.

Hinami just nods. She can figure out where he is. Likely the coolest place in Nameless City on a hot day like this. As she heads off, she hears Pi calling out for Lala to come eat with them. Slipping the container into her pack, she makes easy work of clambering up over railings and onto roofs.

Nameless City is a total maze to anyone who doesn’t know it, but Hinami knows it like she knows the back of her own hands.

She’s strolling along the roof, heading to the small hollow between two of the buildings. Already, she can see where Takeshi’s sitting, cross-legged and staring out towards the orange sunset. The sun’s already settling low.

She’s struck by the sight of him, like she often was. Late afternoon sunlight dances off his hair, his dark eyes shine, her gaze traces over the line of his profile. She could pinpoint exactly where his beauty spots were from memory alone, etching a constellation in his skin. He’s handsome, genuinely. Sometimes she wonders how he hasn’t been snatched up by someone already, though she’s quietly thankful that he hasn’t. She doesn’t know that her heart could take it.

Dropping down to sit next to him, she kicks her prosthetic out in front of her, curving her foot under her knee. He glances sideways at her, seemingly surprised, too caught up in his own thoughts to realise she’d been walking up to him.

“What are you doing sitting up here by yourself?” She asks, digging around in her bag to pull the container out and shove it into his hands. Takeshi shrugs as he pops the lid off, plucking up one of the steamed buns.

“Just sick of Yu leaning all over me to get to the fan,” he lies. Hinami stares pointedly at him and he doesn’t meet her gaze, taking a bite of the bun. He knows she can tell when he’s lying. She lets him get away with it at least, leaning back on her hands as they fall into a comfortable silence.

Takeshi forces her to take one of the buns, insisting on it when she tries to decline. It’s peaceful, casual even, until -

“How was your date?” Takeshi asks, trying to keep the jealous ire out of his tone. Hinami quirks a brow at him, confused, then she realises. Oh. He didn’t know.

“Well, it was more Marco and Cosette’s date. I think I was kind of a third wheel, actually,” she replies coolly. His head jerks to look at her, surprised.

“What?”

“Marco and Cosette, they’ve been dating for a while apparently.” Takeshi’s mouth opens to say something, but she continues. “Marco saw that dumb little tofu patch on my jacket and invited me to try this place in Little Asia, and Cosette invited himself along. They’re kinda cute actually.”

“Oh,” Takeshi says quietly. Hinami giggles.

“Did you really think I was on a date?”

Takeshi flushes pink and doesn’t reply, just looks back to the horizon and takes a large bite of steamed bun as a way to not answer. Hinami takes a quiet breath in, gathering some kind of courage, and turns her own gaze forward to the dipping sun. The sky is already turning a deep blue and dim lights are starting to get switched on across Nameless.

“Marco’s not even my type, you know?”

He glances sideways at her, munching slowly.

“He’s too tall. And his hair’s too dark. I don’t think any of those White Rascal guys could keep up with me either, not with those tight pants they wear. I could never date a guy that I couldn’t race.”

It’s all true. Takeshi can tell, he can read her just like she can read him. He watches her take a breath, twisting a ring on her finger, a nervous habit. Curiosity creases his brow. What was she nervous about?

Hinami’s wimping out. She can’t do it. Can’t tell him. So instead, she bumps her arm against Takeshi’s, smiles, and stands up.

“I’m going to go to bed early. Been a long day, you know?”

“Right.”

“Good night.”

“Night.”

No one in Nameless has a typical home. A lot of folks share places, others stay on the streets. Kids usually trade around where they sleep, sometimes together, sometimes alone, sometimes in the small apartment-esque buildings under the watchful gaze of grandmotherly older women.

That much is familiar, it’s how it’s always been.

When Hinami, Takeshi and Pi were kids, they’d all piled together every night in some dingy old room sequestered away on the far edge of Nameless. They’d stack up old thin futons until they were comfy enough to sleep on and dole out snacks they’d gathered over the day and then pass out on top of each other like a litter of puppies. Smokey and Lala had shared a room all their own, as close as true siblings ever since the beginning.

Now, Hinami has a room all her own. It’s tiny, barely able to fit more than her futon, a small cupboard of her clothes, and an equally small nightstand bearing a collection of knickknacks. She doesn’t always sleep there, sometimes she still heads off to pile in with Takeshi and Pi and Yu if she’s lonely and can’t fall asleep alone.

She drops onto her thin futon with a quiet sigh. After pulling off her prosthetic, she leans it against the wall by her bed and sets about unravelling the bandage around her stump.

Starting to roll the bandage back up, she flops onto her back, staring at the roof. A quiet sigh escapes her.

Cosette’s words flit into her thoughts and her chest hurts. ‘Wouldn’t you rather not have to hold back your feelings?’.

She’s a coward. She’d chickened out at the last minute. Again.

Takeshi … she knows how she feels about him. She’s been feeling it for years after all, ever since she could discern the emotions between ‘platonic’ and ‘romantic’, ever since there was clarity that how she felt about Takeshi wasn’t how she felt about Pi or Smokey. It complicates things. He’s her friend, yet she wants him like a lover. Still, she can’t manage to find the words to tell him so. It shouldn’t be so hard, they can easily talk about anything else, she can tell him any other secret. This secret is the only one she’s kept close to her chest, and for no less than years.

Tossing the rolled-up bandage onto the ground by her prosthetic, she sighs and tugs her old blanket up over her body, curling in on herself.

Takeshi stays up in the hollow by himself for a while after Nami leaves. The sweet taste of the steamed bun sticks on his tongue. The sun fully dips away until he’s left sitting in the darkness. By now, a lot of Nameless is starting to head in for the night, finding places to rest. Smokey’s no doubt going around to make sure everyone is okay and settled in before he goes to bed himself.

Making his way down, Takeshi heads off to the room he and the other guys shared. He considers swinging by Nami’s room, he could make an excuse as to why, more than just wanting to see her. She’d let him stay. It wouldn’t be the first night he’d spent with her instead of the guys.

Eventually, he decides against it.

Walking into the boys’ room, he kicks his shoes off by the door. Pi and Yu are already getting ready to lie down. Yu is lazing while Pi tries to set the futons in line. Pi kicks at Yu’s legs, clearly frustrated by the lack of help. Both look back when Takeshi steps in and Yu takes it as the chance to sit up and redirect the attention off him.

“So did Hinami end up finding you?” Yu asks. Pi scowls at him, then goes back to fixing the futons.

“Yeah,” Takeshi says, quiet, kneeling to help Pi.

“Did you ask about her date?”

“It wasn’t a date. Marco’s dating Cosette.”

Yu and Pi blink, surprised. Takeshi lies down on his back, sighs, his gaze blankly staring towards the ceiling.

“So … that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Yu queries.

Takeshi makes a small affirmative noise, but says nothing.

“If it’s a good thing, why are you still grumpy?”

Frowning, Takeshi rolls onto his side, facing away from the two of them. Pi sighs, rolling his eyes and lying down as well. His arm is flush up against Takeshi’s back. Even with as annoying as he’s being, Pi knows Takeshi can’t sleep well without someone close by.

“You know, you wouldn’t be having this whole problem if you just told her how you feel,” Pi says, re-breaking the pause of silence. Takeshi sighs, curling slightly in on himself.

“You don’t get it.”

“I really don’t. Explain it.”

Pi’s getting frustrated. It used to be funny - especially when they were still kids - teasing and making jokes about Takeshi’s crush, watching him blush around her or pout when other guys paid her attention. Now it’s starting to get irritating.

Takeshi takes a deep breath. There’s a long silence. Pi glances sideways at him, watches as Takeshi puffs out an exhale. After a while, he still says nothing and Pi sighs. Yu glances at the two of them, then just gets up to turn the light off.

Pi and Yu fall asleep soon after.

Takeshi is still awake, deep in his thoughts.

‘Explain it’.

He doesn’t know how to.

Everything falls back into rhythm for the next week.

Takeshi and Hinami slip back into their normalcy. He still can’t work up the courage to tell her. Hinami starts to confess and then stops herself more than once; the timing’s always wrong, or the place; any internal excuse to argue that she’s not still a coward.

It’s easy to say nothing about it, to stay friends, but Hinami’s heart still aches.

Clambering up through one of Nameless’ buildings, Hinami finds Smokey exactly where she expects him to be. He likes to spend his time up there, high up above Nameless City. The air’s clearer up here, and there’s nothing obstructing the view of the sky.

Smokey’s head is dropped back, his eyes closed. There’s a slight breeze that blows through his hair; she ignores the way he’s starting to go grey. He looks relaxed. She almost feels bad for interrupting, but then he looks at her and smiles. Stepping up, she leans beside him. Her head drops back, staring skyward. He soon follows suit.

The sky is bright and blue; there’s clouds far in the distance, slowly rolling in towards Nameless City. Quiet, Hinami distracts herself by trying to find some shape in the clouds.

“Something on your mind, Hinami?” Smokey asks finally, breaking the silence. She sighs quietly. Turning, she leans her arms on the railing. Her mind runs, trying to piece together her thoughts. She starts slowly.

“I was looking for some advice … for a friend.” What a lie. “There’s these two people, they’ve been friends for a while, but one of them really likes the other. Like, more than just as a friend. But … she -”

“You mean you and Takeshi right?”

Hinami stops, turns her head towards him to blink widely. She should’ve known better than to try and put one over on him; she’s not that great of a liar, especially when it comes to the guys who know her. Smokey chuckles, then continues.

“I’m not that blind.”

He’s joking, but it makes Hinami frown. She didn’t like to be reminded on it, that his eyesight was leaving him. There’s a blue-ish film that’s been starting to take over his brown eyes, his pupils aren’t quite as dark as they should be. They’re odd, and concerning. It’s yet another thing they didn’t have the money to help fix.

He nudges her bicep slightly with his elbow, prompting her to speak. She sighs, leaning heavier on her arms, her gaze turns over the rough lines of the buildings.

“I don’t know how to tell him how I feel.”

“Is it really so complicated?”

Her brows furrow.

“Yes?”

“I’ve never seen two people who understand each other as well as you and Takeshi do. Feelings are loud, actions speak loudly. Maybe some things don’t need to be spoken with words.”

Confused, she frowns slightly. As she falls quiet again, she leans her temple against Smokey’s shoulder, turning his words over in her head. Actions, could she somehow make Takeshi understand without having to speak it out loud? Or were the words necessary?

Turning his head, Smokey presses a short kiss to the dark crown of her head. It wasn’t often that Hinami got caught up in her head, but he was always honoured to be the one she turned to for help.

“I’m sure you’ll both figure it out. Don’t stress too much, Hinami.”

It’s a dreary day at Nameless. It’s only been a few days since her conversation with Smokey. The heat’s still sticking around, but it’s more the humidity now, hanging in the air with the thick dark clouds.

It’s always bad when it rains in Nameless City.

A lot of the buildings have leaks in the roofs, some of those same roofs are on the verge of breaking under the weight of gathered water; the ground gets muddy and it takes ages for the puddles to dry up in the days after; the Rude Boys have to be careful as they run around, lest they slip on the water, Pi had almost fallen off a roof once.

With Hinami hanging out with Lala, Takeshi, Pi and Yu are left to their own devices. Smokey’s up in his perch. They don’t like to bother him, they know he needs his rest, even if he says he’s watching out for trouble in Nameless up there.

Since Pi prides himself on being the best in Nameless, whenever Hinami gets close to beating him, Takeshi and Yu know they’re in for having to train with Pi. She’d almost managed to beat him the day before, catching him on a misstep.

The trio have already run their usual track three times before finally convincing Pi to let them take a break. Sitting up on one of the sturdier rooftops, Takeshi’s sweating and laid back on the roof to try and soak up any form of coolness out of the metal. It’s only now that they’re noticing how bad the weather’s getting.

Yu whacks Pi in the bicep.

“Ooh! I call dibs on Takeshi’s side of the room!” Yu cries, gleeful. Pi groans, dropping his head back.

Takeshi stares, his brows furrowing as he sits up.

“What do you mean?”

Yu rolls his eyes, motions towards the grey sky with the half-empty water bottle in his hand, as if it’s obvious. When it doesn’t click for Takeshi, he explains.

“It’s going to rain. You always go sleep with Hinami when it rains.”

“No, I d-” he cuts himself off, frowning, “Well, she doesn’t like the rain.”

“Yeah, we know, but she never comes down to our room, you always go to her’s; so your spot’s free and it’s the spot that never gets hit by leaks.”

Takeshi gives it a moment’s thought, then kicks the side of Yu’s thigh.

“You’d better not be eating where I sleep.”

The cloud cover is so dark it’s hard to tell when it turns over from day to night. When the rain starts, it rolls in like a wave. It’s heavy, it’s loud. Storms are always loud in Nameless; the clattering metal roofs, the hollows that scream back echoes, the wind howling through the city. The electricity is usually bad in Nameless, it’s worse when storms roll in. Everyone’s stuck with battery-powered lanterns and whatever small fires they can keep out of the wet.

Hinami is holed up in her room, she has been since the rain started.

It rained the day her parents abandoned her at Nameless City’s entrance. She remembers being left on the cold ground and watching them walk away; with no crutches or prosthetic, she’d been unable to get up and follow after them. They didn’t even look back as she cried out for them. The rain blurred them out until they were just … gone. And they stayed gone. The storm that day hadn’t helped to disguise her tears, and her sobbing hadn’t been drowned out by it; that much had been lucky for her at least, since her crying had drawn out Takeshi, who’d then gotten Smokey and Pi to help get her into shelter.

The memories come back every time it rains. Her parents leaving, her desperate cries for them to come back and not leave her, the wet chill covering her. They hadn’t even left her with a jacket.

Sitting in her small room, she’s trembling. The sound of rain comes from all sides. It’s bordering on thunderous on her roof. Curled in on herself on her futon, she’s got her ratty blanket covering her head as if it could dampen the noise.

There’s a soft knocking at her door, then the click of it opening and closing behind someone stepping in. She doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

It’s hard to get to Nami’s room while dodging the rain. A lot of the regular paths get flooded quickly, and risking the fast way is a bad idea with how bad it’s coming down. So he has to slip through other routes, trying to stay dry. His jacket’s wet and his hair flops in his face when he finally slips into Nami’s room.

Her room is dim and the rain is noisy. His gaze casts around. She’s propped a bucket in the corner where the worst leak is, there’s a steady drip he’ll have to try and figure out a fix for.

Soon, his eyes set on her. She’s huddled beneath her blanket, trembling slightly. He sighs quietly. He should have gotten here earlier, but the rain came in too quick. She hasn’t even taken her prosthetic off.

Toeing his shoes off at the door and dumping his damp jacket on the ground, he moves to crouch down next to her.

“Nami,” he says, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. Slowly, she tugs the blanket down, peering at him. There’s tears in her eyes. Softly, he brushes messy dark strands back from her face, noting that her hair’s a bit wet. “Let’s get your prosthetic off, okay?”

She nods, quiet, and he helps her sit up, moving to crouch on her other side.

Slipping off the prosthetic, he sets it in it’s usual spot by the futon. She hugs her other leg close to her chest, sniffling quietly as she watches him. Takeshi starts unravelling the bandage next. She’ll probably need a new one, this one’s getting a little tatty, and it’s slightly damp like everything else she’s wearing. She must’ve gotten caught out in the rain.

There’s a clash of thunder and Nami flinches.

Takeshi makes quick messy work of rolling the bandage up, dropping it by her prosthetic and then hopping back over to the open space on the futon. Immediately, she curls into his chest and he lies them down. He pulls the blanket up, then wraps his arms around her. She’s still trembling slightly, so he runs his hand up and down her spine, hoping to settle her.

Shifting her head, she leans her ear flat against his chest. She’d once mentioned in passing that she found his heartbeat comforting. He feels her take a deep breath.

“You know I love you, right?” She says quietly.

His chest tightens. There’s a short pause of silence, only the sound of heavy rain, until he finally swallows and manages to reply.

“Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

Hinami feels lucky he can’t see her face at his angle as she mushes her cheek against his chest. A small frown creases her mouth, but it’s not from the rain now.

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how honestly she means it.

She loves him. More than platonically.

“I’m hoping for good news,” Cosette says, passing her a soda as he drops onto the couch beside her. Hinami frowns, cracking the can open.

“You’re going to be disappointed then,” she replies. Cosette sighs loudly.

“Seriously? It’s almost been two weeks,” he complains. “I really thought after that day with Marco and I, you two would’ve made some progress.”

Hinami leans back into the couch, sighing herself. The couch is cushy, almost uncomfortably so. Nothing in Nameless is so soft. She practically sinks into it. The SMG’s place is nice. It’s all clean and there’s no leaks in the roof and their fridge is fully stocked. The Rascals really have it made.

But she’s distracting herself, looking around the place.

“I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t have the words,” she says finally, her voice soft, her gaze turned towards the ceiling. “I can’t just say I ‘like’ him, or that i ‘love’ him, that’s stuff we’ve said to each other before, as friends. It’s not like I can just kiss him, if he doesn’t feel the same way, then I would just mess everything up.”

Marco, sitting in an armchair, stares pointedly at Cosette. A silent conversation plays out, a push to just tell her, since he’s already been meddling this long. Hinami is just sitting quietly, staring at the blank clean leakless ceiling, mulling over her thoughts. Finally, Cosette relents.

“Takeshi has a crush on you.”

Hinami sits up quickly.

“What? Who -”

“Yu told us. Back when Marco asked you to lunch,” Cosette pauses, Marco fixes him with a look, so he continues, “Takeshi’s apparently tried to confess before but kept chickening out. I thought if he saw you going on a date with Marco, it would push him into acting … or that I could convince you to confess if you liked him back.”

Hinami stares, dazed. She can’t even be upset that Cosette had kept it from her this long.

“He … likes me back? You’re sure?”

“Well, Yu and Pi were sure. And Takeshi looked like he wanted to kick Marco’s ass because he thought he was flirting with you.”

She stands up quickly, almost enough to send her toppling at the sudden pressure on her prosthetic but Cosette catches her arm.

“I’ve got to go,” she says. Cosette and Marco stare at her, then each other, back at her, then speak at the same time.

“What are you going to do?”

“What are you going to say?”

Hinami’s throws her shaking hands up in something of an ‘I don’t know’ motion.

“I don’t know, but I’ve got to do something now before I wimp out again.”

It’s not too long a drive back to Nameless City, certainly not long enough for Hinami to come up with a good plan. She has something of a plan though. An inkling. A whisper. It’s enough. It has to be. She still can’t find the words, but maybe she can manage action.

She throws a wave off to Marco and Cosette as she scrambles off the back of Marco’s bike outside Nameless’ entry. The sun is starting it’s afternoon descent.

There’s confidence spurring her forward, she lets it drag her. It’s like she’s being drawn on a string, like it’s tied around her waist and hauling her into motion, like the other end is tied to Takeshi and it’s drawing her to him.

Just like that, she finds him easily, lazing around with Smokey, Lala, Pi, and Yu. The string draws taut and she stops in front of where Takeshi’s sitting and bickering with Pi. She dumps her jacket in Pi’s lap, but her gaze is focused only on Takeshi. Before either can get a word out, she’s speaking.

“Race me.”

Pi looks up, opens his mouth to speak, but Hinami’s cutting him off.

“Not you. Takeshi. Race me. On the old track, the one with the jump.”

The jump she’d never managed to make, always stopping short and never throwing herself forward. It was a long leap between two roofs, she’d always been too scared to try and jump it. They - her and Pi - had since decided on a new path around Nameless whenever they raced now, but they all knew the old path.

“Okay,” Takeshi replies finally.

He seems to notice how serious she is, the almost-vibrating tension in her. Rocking up onto his feet, he stretches his arms above his head. Hinami bounces slightly on her prosthetic, high strung with energy. She’d often flit about while getting ready for a race with Pi or Yu, but this was different. There was more at stake, it’s now or never.

If she can’t find some way to make him understand now, she doesn’t know that she ever will.

With a short nod to their friends, the pair jog off to the starting point. It’s halfway up the Nameless City scaffolding, but not quite at the top of the city. The way up to the roofs is part of the path, it’s a complex route for testing both skill and speed.

Amused curiosity flickers across Takeshi’s features as he glances sideways at her, but seeing how focused Hinami is, he can’t bring himself to ask what’s got her so riled up. They don’t race as often as her and Pi, in fact she’s managed to beat him more than once. She’d once teased he wasn’t as much of a challenge anymore, so he doesn’t know why she’s asked him now. From the look on her face, it surely can’t be just for fun.

There’s the briefest pause at the starting point, then they’re both darting off. They’re matched in speed and their own specific techniques, enough to be neck and neck. As they run, Takeshi notices the smile that grows on her face. She’d always loved the excitement of a race, and he’d always loved to watch the thrill shine on her features.

They rise up, up, up the twists of scaffolding until they’re running on the far flat plains of the the roofs.

Hinami doesn’t glance his way at all. She’s laser focused. Her gaze is intense. She knows what needs to happen. It’s a chain reaction she needs, a line of dominos knocking over. She’s just got to make it to the jump, then she’s sure it all will fall into line.

Takeshi’s expecting the turn. Since Hinami had been stopping short at the jump, they’d changed the path before completely redesigning the route in a different part of Nameless. As they get close to the jump, Takeshi starts to turn, but Hinami doesn’t. His steps falter. He just watches, waiting to see if she stops but hoping she finally goes for it.

She reaches the edge of the roof. And she soars.

Staggering slightly when she lands, she still manages to stay upright. When she turns to look at him, she looks just as surprised as he does. With a holler, he takes off, following suit to jump and land on the roof with her.

“I did it,” she says, breathless, shocked, “I actually made it.”

When she stumbles slightly, Takeshi reaches out to catch her waist and steady her. She laughs, then flings herself at Takeshi to squeeze him into an excited hug. His own arms gather around her waist, hugging her back tightly, his excited laugh joining her’s. They’re both breathing hard, hearts pounding.

Settling, they start to pull away, but Hinami doesn’t move far out of his grip, his hands still steadying her at her waist. Her wrists rest on Takeshi’s shoudlers. There’s only inches between them.

She still doesn’t have the words, but maybe Smokey was right, maybe they don’t have to be said.

They’re so close. Hinami’s gaze flickers from his eyes to his mouth than back to meet his gaze. She watches his eyes draw the same pattern on her face. Some kind of understanding clicks, flowing between them. There’s a short nod from her, a slight dip of her chin, just barely noticeable.

When they start to lean in, it’s not a smooth motion, staggered and janky, as if expecting the other to suddenly leap away. When neither does, it spurns them quickly into motion. Hinami doesn’t know if she closes the gap or he does, but nevertheless, they meet each other in the middle.

The first kiss is short. A quick meeting of lips, as if testing the waters.

The second is slow, growing passionate while savouring the feeling. Takeshi pulls her in flush against him, his hands sliding over the small of her back. Her arms draw around his neck in reply, pulling him in closer too.

When they part, their gazes meets for a second. It feels ridiculous now, how they’d been toeing around the edge of ever saying anything for so long. They share a short breathless laugh, leaning their foreheads together.

Slowly, the sun sets, casting Nameless in it’s orange glow and, when it’s disappeared below the horizon and the sky is dark and twinkling, Hinami and Takeshi return back to their friends, smiling warmly and hand-in-hand.

#ocappreciation #high&low #high&low oc #high and low #rude boys #takeshi high & low #high and low fic #oc: hinami

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corner-stories · 4 months

Text

polaroids and mist

Pieck Finger. Porco Galliard. First Meetings. Photographs. Rain. 2511 words. (ao3.)

Late November brings shorter days and longer nights.

On his day off, he’s not sure what to do with himself. Yet when his alarm rings he opens his eyes and spends a few minutes looking at the ceiling while thinking about how tired he is. For a moment, he seriously contemplates staying in bed all day.

When he finally rolls off the mattress, he takes a look outside his window to see Seattle being misted by a sky full of clouds. Days like this are usually as good as it gets, especially at this time of year. It could be another week of torrential downpours until the weather decides to clear up.

So after a breakfast of fruit and yogurt, he grabs his art satchel and wellingtons before heading out the door.

With every step he takes he can feel droplets collecting on his hair. He’s used to it, even if he has to wipe water off his nose as he crosses the street. A bus takes him from North Beacon Hill to Pike Place Market. Despite the touristy nature of the place, he finds himself drawn to it whenever he has the time.

Perhaps it’s the variety of people frequenting the place. The fisherman, the merchants, the tourists, or people like him — locals who just want something to do.

He finds himself inside the market, keeping his hands deep in his pockets as he browses items that he admires but cannot purchase. His job fixing motorcycles is enough to keep his basement warm, but it puts limits on his income, barring him from things like flower bouquets or artisanal jellies.

He finds a table and chair at a communal area, which he sits at while unpacking the clutter in his satchel. With his headphones playing a song he’s loved since high school, he opens his sketchbook and begins diligently drawing a neon sign advertising a butchery, of which hangs above a pathway full of guests.

Drawing is only a hobby for him, so his linework is imperfect and his ability to shade leaves much to be desired. He had never felt the nagging desire to become an illustrator like the kids in his high school’s art department. He never thought he could make a portfolio good enough to get into a fancy art college, let alone scrape together the tuition to attend.

At least he’s in a city like Seattle, one with a vibrant indie art scene and a determination to create something of the cold, dingy weather.

When the sketch of the neon sign is complete, it’s nothing to write home about. So much of the markings scream amateur, but he’s okay with that. He’s not not too fussy with his art and likes it that way. After gathering his drawing materials back into his satchel, he goes to a nearby cafe to purchase an espresso before leaving the market.

The rain remains light as he traverses the walkways of Waterfront Park. When he looks out towards Elliott Bay, the only thing he can think about is hopping on a ferry to Victoria and spending the weekend checking out Canada. He’s never been.

Soon he finds himself at a pier just north of the market. It’s soaking wet and empty, so alone he walks between the empty damp tables and goes to the railing. He keeps his hands deep in his pockets as he takes in the sight of the Great Wheel. He wonders when he’ll finally take the plunge and actually ride the thing.

When he looks across the water he can see Bainbridge Island between the sea and the cloudy sky. He’s never been there either, he never had a reason to. The wind blows at his hair and makes him wonder when that reason will finally come.

Taking in a breath, he closes his eyes and focuses on the mist creating water droplets on his face.

Then Porco hears the sound of a camera shutter.

He turns around and finds that he isn’t alone like he previously thought.

Standing several feet away from him is a young petite woman. She’s clad in a wet rain slicker and sports a wooly cap above her long, dark hair. The contraption she’s holding is an instant camera. As she lowers it from her pretty eyes it begins to whir before dispensing a photograph out of the front slot. She looks happy with herself, but Porco is anything but.

His face remains grim as he walks up to her. “Hey…”

“Sorry, it was too good of a picture.” She’s immediately apologetic. “I couldn’t let it go.”

Porco sighs. There’s no point in asking her to delete it, but he wonders how she’ll feel if he asks her to throw it into the Elliott Bay.

Somehow, she smiles lazily as she holds the photograph between her nimble fingers. She holds it up to him and he sees that the image has yet to develop.

“You’re facing away, so no one can tell that it’s you.”

Porco lets out a grumble. “Good.”

He’s clenching his fist in his pocket as he walks back to the rail. He looks back towards the waters and wonders what else could happen to him today. First the rain making his hair look like a drowned rat and now his own person paparazzi — what next? He spends a few moments in silence leaning his elbows against the bars, his face remaining in a grimace.

Then he hears footsteps beside him. The young woman places her arms on the railing as well, just like him. She gives him a smile so content that one could never guess that she had been standing in the rain.

“I’m Pieck, by the way.”

Porco tries not to scowl too hard. “What kind of name is Pieck?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her voice is playful and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

In her hands she’s still holding the undeveloped photograph. “You’ll need to give it a minute.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t get your name.”

With another grumble, he relents. “It’s Porco.”

The grin on her face gets just a bit brighter. She spends a moment mockingly pretending to think. “Hm… now what kind of name is Porco?”

Porco gives her a stern, humorless look which she seems to find amusing. Whoever this Pieck person is, she has a clear fondness for teasing.

Taking in a breath, he tries to refocus his gaze on the water. The Pacific Northwest continues to do what it does best and keeps the constant drizzle above the city.

“Listen, I don’t wanna get off on the wrong foot,” Pieck says to him, her voice sounding just a bit more gentle.

When he looks at her, the playful look in her eyes has softened.

“Could I buy you some coffee?” she offers, then holds up the undeveloped photograph. “Maybe make up for… this?”

At first, Porco is unsure what to say. They’ve just met and she’s being so forward. She’s looking at him like they’ve met before but he swears that he’s never seen her in his life. Not even in a dream.

Driven by curiosity, confusion, and the late November chill biting at his fingertips, Porco nods his head.

“Alright.”

…

They find a cozy cafe in the midst of Downtown Seattle, a place with warm, incandescent lighting and glossy, wooden tables.

As they wait in line, Porco shakes the rain from his hair and he listens to her talk. Pieck Finger is apparently a student at the University of Washington — she’s only a few terms away from a biochemistry degree and is already making plans to enter grad school. It’s a lot more education than he’s used to, as his few years at community college can attest.

Photography is a hobby she does on her days off, stemming from a desire to capture little moments in time. Instant photography is her forte, there’s just something romantic about holding a printed picture that she can’t deny — the moment is not merely just frozen, but actualized, something she can hold between her fingers.

Porco is tempted to relate with his own habit of sketching, but a part of him tells him not to say it yet. They’ve only just met, afterall. He’s not sure how she’ll react to him waxing lyrical about how a part of him just melts away when he draws, then comes back to life in the aftermath of completing a successful piece.

By the time Pieck’s oat milk latte and Porco’s hot chocolate is served to them, the polaroid photograph has already been developed. The two sit near the cafe’s window as they look over Pieck’s masterpiece.

When he sees the image it’s exactly how she described it — he’s facing away from the camera all broodily and sad, staring at the unmoving Seattle Great Wheel under a cloudy sky.

Perhaps it’s the lighting or the shade of Porco’s jacket, but the colors of the image are slightly desaturated. It gives the whole image a sense of unearthliness, disconnection, a separation from the norm.

In contrast, Pieck is smiling from ear to ear as she holds up her picture.

“This one’s a keeper.”

Porco’s expression remains unchanged as he blows on his drink. “Guess so.”

At this proximity he can get a better look at her messy, unkempt hair and the lazy look in her gaze. It’s only more confirmation that Porco has never met her before — he would’ve remembered those eyes.

“I meant for you, by the way,” Pieck clarifies. “It’s your likeness and all…”

Porco tilts his head to the side like a puzzled puppy. “Oh, uh… thanks. I thought you said you couldn’t let this one go.”

Pieck shrugs. She puts the photograph on the table and slides it towards him. She doesn’t seem torn up at all.

“Yeah, I did… but there’ll be others.”

Morning drags into the afternoon as Pieck Finger and Porco Galliard continue to share what made them.

Porco brings up how his parents still live in Tumwater, the town where he was raised alongside his older brother. Marcel was the star soccer player while Porco was the lacrosse team’s third best midfielder. Nowadays, Marcel is working at some start-up in Portland while Porco’s fixing motorcycles at a shop in the Industrial District. There had never been any favoritism shown to the Galliard Brothers, yet Porco had always gotten the implication that Marcel was the golden child of the duo, the one with better grades, more cheers when he scored a goal, slightly more post-secondary opportunities.

Sometimes he imagines Marcel living it up in Oregon, doing whatever Pacific Northwest tech bros do to celebrate their apps making them a million dollars.

All while Porco is here, living in a Seattle basement suite and drawing in his spare time.

Deep in his heart, he reminds himself to give his brother a call.

Pieck’s life fares differently than his. She grew up in Port Angeles with a single father, her mother passed away when she was young, and as a child she did ballet until an ankle injury took her out. Her father had been the one to encourage her to study what she wanted, and it was his kind words that helped her through every science fair and every test.

It seemed only natural that she pursue a STEM degree, as well as branch out and look up where she could go for grad school. She’s trying to keep things realistic in terms of how far she can go, but out there she just knows that there’s a timeline where the odds are in her favor and she’s able to study chemical engineering at Stanford.

When Porco asks why she chose biochemistry in particular, Pieck can only shrug — the gesture is not of disinterest or even lethargy, but of simplicity.

“I just think it’s neat,” she surmises. From the way she beams at him, it’s all she really needs to say.

Once their drinks are finished, the pair leave the cafe with the photograph tucked into Porco’s pocket. Pieck has to head back to the University District, but she’s forward enough to ask for his number, which he gives out.

He ends up accompanying her to a bus stop. At this point of the day, the morning drizzle has finally stopped, giving the citizens of Seattle a few dry hours before the sun sets.

Pieck is surprisingly chipper as she skips to the stop.

Porco is still unsure what about him drew her in, aside from a photographic opportunity that she couldn’t pass up. As Pieck fishes around her bag for her metro pass, Porco pulls the polaroid out of his pocket and gives it another look.

It’s the same as it was when Pieck showed it to him in the cafe — gloomy, gray, but framed so well that he understands why she had taken it.

“You sure I should keep this?” he asks.

Pieck looks just as confident with her offer as she was a few hours ago. “Of course. No strings attached, I promise.”

Porco rolls his eyes. As she filters through the cards in her wallet, he catches a very brief glimpse of several photographs she has tucked inside. He sees one of her next to an older man who has her nose and eyes, which Porco presumes is her father. There’s also one of what’s obviously a young Pieck holding a puppy — perhaps a childhood pet?

Then his eyes glance upon her student ID.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with the surname ‘Finger’ before,” he remarks as runs a hand through his hair.

“Then you better get used to it,” Pieck assures him in a confident, husky tone.

Porco tries to ignore the burning sensation in his face.

Moments pass and a bus pulls up at the stop. The door opens and Pieck turns to give him one last look.

“See you around, Porco” she says before stepping onto the vehicle.

For a reason he doesn’t even know, he cannot take her eyes off her as the door closes. As the bus begins to drive off, he watches her find a seat behind the rain-covered windows and puts on a pair of headphones.

He can only give a wistful wave as the vehicle drives away.

…

Porco spends the rest of his day off in his basement suite. He removes his rain-soaked clothes and puts a pair of dry socks on his feet. To pass the time before a good night’s sleep, he takes out his sketchbook again and begins to draw in the light of his desk lamp.

He could draw anything, yet the only thing on his mind is the girl with so many plans in her life while he feels stagnant, the girl with a head of long, messy hair and a pair of beautiful brown eyes, the girl who will be the last thing he sees before he finally goes to sleep that night.

Maybe he has seen her somewhere before.

#porco galliard #pieck finger #pokkopiku #gallipieck #pokopiku #snk #in which porco is gloomy and cold like the weather

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paalove · 10 months

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As a prompt a jealous (more insecure) tinn from MSP? They are together now , gun makes a new friend who always is attached to him and tinn is happy for gun, he is. But also he fears that he won't ever be good enough for him and then he pulls back lightly and gun notices and is like??? My baby????

insecure slash jealous tinn, coming right up! (for a given value of "right up", you def requested this months ago haha) thanks for the prompt!

also on ao3

Tinn is going to be left alone, forever, and he’ll die single and clutching the selfie where Gun’s kissing his cheek.

“What do you mean, ‘the’ selfie?” Tiw asks.

Rolling onto his back to stare at the one cloud making its lonely, single way across the sky, he says, “The one where my eyes are closed and I’m wearing the white shirt but you can barely see it because he’s draped across me so it looks like we’re in the same shirt.”

“Ahh.”

“Do you think he’s at the café yet?”

Tiw shuffles over on the grass next to Tinn. He’s got something in his hand; Tinn watches as Tiw raises his balled fist over Tinn’s chest, high up, and opens it.

Grass rains over him.

Then Tiw says, “You know they’re, like, rivals, right? From the training.”

“Exactly,” despairs Tinn. “They were rivals, which proves they’re similar and have chemistry, and that Tul is a talented musician, but now they both have the contract confirmed so they’re learning to get along.”

Tiw nods, like this isn’t a world-ending disaster.

“They’re learning to get along after a rivalry, Tiw! Like Gun and I did! And they work together, so he's always around.”

This finally makes a look of understanding cross Tiw’s face; he’s getting the severity of the situation, now.

But then he makes a confused face again, and he says, “I don’t think you guys were ever rivals. It hurt your feelings when you had to be, like, a little bit mean to him.”

Tinn sighs, remembering.

Gun was so cute when he thought Tinn was trying to thwart him, all driven and dramatic and occasionally roaring in his face, and there was nobody else going after him at all, it was-

“Tinn?”

It was amazing, such a good time when he thinks back, even the hard parts ones they could get through and even the bad news could be overcome and redone-

“Tinn! Por’s texted, I’m going to meet him at the bubble tea place by the weird bridge, bye.”

And Gun’s determination to see things through carried Tinn, carried all their friends, past every obstacle and through everything. He’s such an amazing, warm, happy person and Tinn doesn’t know what he’ll do if they really break up.

He’s smiling to himself, mostly, when he opens his eyes.

But then he sits up and looks around in confusion; where did Tiw go?

…

Tul nudges him on the shoulder as the group breaks up.

When Gun looks up at him, he’s smirking, and he says, “Is this what you were expecting?”

“There are so many vegetarians,” Gun immediately says.

He’d had a sort of vision that it would be like music club used to be – okay, they wouldn’t be as close, of course not, but they were all singers and performers who were working together and towards the same goals, so they’d be friendly and gather with their instruments and maybe even do hotpot together.

But probably the hotpot isn’t going to be a thing, because all four of the people who just left before Gun are vegetarians.

Tul shrugs and says, “That wasn’t really what I meant. You were expecting this much talking, then?”

Frowning, Gun points to Tul, and then to himself, then sort of wags his finger between them.

They aren’t talking a weird amount, he thinks.

“Not like-“ Tul snorts, “Man, this is why I thought there was no way you were finishing training. Interviews take nuance and shit, what the fuck is-“

“-Hey, what the hell, how do you know I don’t have a nuance-“

“-Tell me what a nuance is, right now,” Tul keeps smirking.

Gun says, “Okay, so I don’t know what one is, that doesn’t mean I can’t sing!”

“Peace, okay? Peace,” Tul’s laughing now, holding a hand out to, like, shake, because he went to a pretty formal school and it comes out in weird moments, sometimes.

It doesn’t hurt to shake hands and it’s never bad to make peace, so Gun does.

He pulls his hand out of Tul’s as Tul starts with, “All I meant was- wait, what the fuck was I talking about.”

“Talking,” Gun helpfully reminds him.

They’ve stopped walking – Tul because Gun has, and Gun because Tinn was supposed to be by the fountain in this park, but he can’t see him anywhere.

He’s only half-listening as Tul says, “Right, yeah, that. I just meant I kind of thought we’d be in the studio, not spending half the time meeting previous years’ hires and weird old guys nobody will tell us the actual jobs of and that one guy who was-“

There.

It was hard to find him because he’s alone – Tiw must have left – and instead of sitting up, looking for Gun, he’s huddled into a ball facing away. But Gun would recognise the back of his head from a much further distance than this.

He interrupts Tul, probably in the middle of a sentence or something, to say, “There he is! Do you want to meet my boyfriend?”

“Um- I,” Tul doesn’t finish.

Seems like a yes – he doesn’t pull out from under the arm Gun swings over his shoulders to drag him over.

As soon as he gets to Tinn, still curled up on the ground, he can feel the rest of the tense nervous excitement that fills him whenever he remembers that this is his job, now, finally drain away. He could never be tense around Tinn.

But why is he curled up?

With that question in mind, Gun speaks softly when he says, “Tinn?” in case it’s because of a headache or something.

Tinn doesn’t uncurl in response – he lifts his head and turns to the side enough to peek out of the little huddle.

Gun waves, one-handed, at him.

“Hi,” mumbles Tinn.

He’s glancing to Tul, so Gun says, “This is Tul – I’ve told you about Tul. I don’t think he’s a dick anymore. Tul, this is Tinn! He’s my boyfriend.”

Gun might be grinning a lot, but whatever, he’s totally entitled to that.

“Anymore?” Tul laughs, shoving at Gun’s arm.

That means they’re disentangled enough for Gun to sit down, cross-legged, by his huddled boyfriend. Who is still looking up at Tul silently.

Gun looks up to, and nods in response to Tul’s question, telling him, “I was kind of nervous during the final round auditions. Sorry about the thing with the table.”

“Oh, no, that was my fault, bro, I’m just surprised you stopped thinking I’m a dick,” Tul smirks again, “People generally agree on that point.”

“I think you’re nice when you aren’t worried about stuff,” Gun starts, but Tul waves his hands.

With another look at Tinn, Tul cuts Gun off to say, “Nice meeting your boyfriend, bro. Be careful.”

“Mae says that too,” Gun agrees, “Because he’s a nice boy.”

It’s fair; he should be careful. Everyone should be careful with Tinn.

The huddled ball next to him tightens up, which is weird, but he’s not looking up at Tul anymore.

Gun waves a goodbye; Tul gives him the peace sign and walks away backwards, with a final, “That’s not what I meant to be careful about.”

The industry, probably, but Gun’s not going to acknowledge it.

People already know about Tinn. Things that are online stay online, and it’s not like he even wants people to not know.

Tinn’s amazing.

He doesn’t want people to think Tinn’s available.

He shuffles up to Tinn’s back, drapes his chin over Tinn’s shoulder, and says, “Head hurt? I told you not to read so much.”

“No,” mumbles Tinn miserably.

Gun manages to work his hands through the tight ball that Tinn’s curled into and gets a hold on his waist, under his arms. When Gun’s hands meet by Tinn’s bellybutton, Gun shuffles and pulls them around until he can roll Tinn onto his back, on Gun’s lap.

Tinn uncurls.

“Hey,” says Gun.

“Hi.”

He strokes Tinn’s soft cheek with one finger, just because he can, and says, “What’s wrong?”

Tinn sighs and looks sad.

“Should I ask Tiw-“

“-No.”

He strokes Tinn’s cheek again and watches him turn his face towards it.

“Did you want to spend more of the day together?”

Shaking his head, Tinn sighs again and whispers, “I know it’s important. You and Tul need to go to that stuff.”

He nods and watches Tinn’s face.

Gun knows Tinn; the whispering means he’s not willing to put all his confidence into saying that.

Which means…

“Are you sure it’s not that?”

Tinn closes his eyes.

Then, in a quick burst, he says, “You don’t think he’s cute do you?”

Gun frowns.

“Who?”

Tinn opens his eyes and says, “Tul. You don’t like him?”

“Tul?!”

He can’t make that thought fit together.

But Tinn’s upset, clearly, so he doesn’t laugh out loud and instead says, “No, I don’t like Tul. We’re the same height.”

“What?”

“That’s not important,” Gun can feel his ears flushing.

He possibly hasn’t made his thing about Tinn’s height clear, whatever, this isn’t the time for that, he’s pretty sure.

Tinn, who is perfect, just pauses and says, “Okay… So you don’t like him?”

“You’re my boyfriend, I like you,” is a better response that doesn’t bring up the height thing.

He’s taking the height thing to his grave.

If Por can keep his mouth shut about that time-

Tinn’s smiling shyly, now, turning his face away. So Gun reaches out his hand and turns Tinn’s face back.

“What,” he teases, “You didn’t know you were my boyfriend?”

Mock-calm, Tinn shrugs and stares up at him, saying, “Remind me more.”

He doesn’t think Tinn should be surprised by the tickle-attack that Gun responds with; that’s a boyfriend-thing.

“Gun,” Tinn giggles, breathless.

He’s batting at Gun’s hands, absolutely not fighting him off at all, so Gun wriggles out from under him and continues the offensive, saying, “Hmm? Do you remember?”

Tinn looks very pretty, flushed, which makes this a very important way to spend some of his time. But Gun can’t climb on top of him here – they don’t need to be banned from another outdoor space.

“I remember, I’m your boyfriend,” Tinn laughs.

“Good.”

Then Gun kisses his face, a few times, to make sure he keeps remembering.

#my school president the series #my school president #tinngun #robfic

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