#the way I forgot I set it to 1 second and then pressed the button and dropped the camera

[art-of-aiso]

A lil commentary on one of my throwaways

[tacoguacamole]

ANOTHER TIME | JJK - 3

Summary: All you wanted was time. Time to love your husband. Time to feel him love you back. To see his smile again, not shadowed by grief and resentment. Time to share laughter instead of silence, warmth instead of distance. To feel his arms around you, not the cold of where he used to be. Time to hear “I love you too” before it’s too late. Time should’ve been simple.

But somehow, it always slips through your fingers just when you need it most.

[Pairing: Creative Director!Jungkook x Ceo!Female Reader]

[Theme: Marriage AU. BF2L2S]

[Warnings: Major Angst, Multiple Flashbacks and Time Jumps, Mature Theme, Smut, Mature/Explicit Language, A lot of fluff, Romance, Slowburn]

[Older JK, Older OC, Older Bangtan, Lawyer Seokjin and Namjoon, Doctor Yoongi, Event Planner Hobi, Solo idol Jimin, Secretary Taehyung, Brief cameos of Seventeen Mingyu, GOT7 Mark, Kook's a jerk and mean for the earlier chapters]

[Status: Ongoing]

[Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Chapter Word Count: 7k+]

[Chapter Summary: Some things return in quiet ways — a coffee, a crooked smile, the way his arms still know where to hold you. It isn’t the past, not really, but it lingers at the edges. And as you sit across from him again, you start to wonder if memory alone is enough to make something feel like it’s still here.]

[MINORS DNI! 18+]

The morning air feels different today — crisper somehow, even though the sky outside the kitchen window glows the same pale blue as every other morning.

You don’t flinch when the doorbell rings. You knew he’d come.

When you open the door, Jeongguk is standing there, awkward in his usual work button up and slacks, a small bouquet of purple tulips in his hands. He looks like he wants to say a thousand things but can’t settle on a single one. His eyes flicker down to the purple tulips, then up to you.

For a second, neither of you moves. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leans forward and presses a brief kiss to your forehead, his arms coming around you in a hesitant, practiced hug — one that used to mean comfort, but now it’s just obligatory. His grip is gentle, almost too careful, like he’s afraid of breaking something that’s already cracked.

Still, you hold on to him a little longer, hanging on to the bit of happiness your heart feels.

Stepping aside, you let him in. The scent of eggs and toast floats lightly from the kitchen, where your mother busies herself with the stove. Her clattering is pointedly loud, each clang sharper than necessary. She doesn’t greet him. Doesn’t even glance his way. Stays silent. Keeps her promise. Lets you have this.

Sitting across from him at the dining table, a plate of toast is left untouched between you. There's a heavy silence, like you're both waiting for someone to call cut on a campaign shoot you’re both working on. He twirls the tulips nervously in his fingers before you gently reach over and take them from him, burying your nose into the petals.

"You remembered," you say softly, a little laugh escaping.

“I’d get sued if I forgot,” he murmurs, lips curling into a faint ghost of a smile—one you haven’t seen in a long time.

Neither of you speak. It's just the clinking of silverware filling the awkward space between you. There’s no pressure to talk, not yet. The list said conversations are optional, and maybe that’s mercy for both of you this morning.

So you just observe him. He doesn’t look at you at first. Just keeps his eyes on the table or the clock or the edge of his coffee mug. But his hand twitches a little, like he's trying to grasp for something. Finally, he asks,

“Am I…” He pauses, clears his throat. “Am I allowed to ask why you’re doing this?”

You knew this question would come at some point. The revised and signed agreements that Seokjin brings to you by morning after you had them delivered to Jeongguk's lawyer, made you figure out just as much. Your own lawyer was shocked with how fast things were progressing.

Setting the fork down carefully, wiping your fingers with a napkin, you reply, “No. No questions throughout the days. You signed, had the chance to counter, but you didn’t.”

Jeongguk swallows hard but says nothing else. Simply goes back to the breakfast he has a hard time digesting.

You breathe in deeply, searching for something easier to talk about. “Wanna tell me about work? What’s been going on lately?”

That pulls a reluctant smile from him. “Mingyu’s the new face of Calvin Klein. I’ve been working on the campaign with him.”

You grin, genuine this time. “Look at you. Still the golden boy.”

He chuckles under his breath, tapping his fingers against his mug. “Just trying to do my job. You know how it is.”

You nod, sipping your coffee. “Work’s just about to get crazy for me, too. Seora’s landed a spot at Paris Fashion Week again.”

His eyes widen, a spark of pride flickering there. “Seriously? That’s…that’s huge.” The excitement he shares almost feel real. “Two years in row. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Mark’s been working really hard to keep getting us the spot. He’ll head to Paris soon with the team to prep.”

His gaze softens a little at the mention of your business partner. “You’re not going this time?”

You shake your head, casually swirling the coffee in your cup. “Someone’s got to hold down the fort here.” The lie comes out smoothly.

“But… Paris is your favorite,” Jeongguk says, quieter this time. “You used to call me at three a.m. just to show me the Eiffel Tower lights.”

Your heart skips a beat, hearing how he remembers the better times of your lives, the soft smile across your lips you don’t hide. “Things change, Gguk. Priorities, you know?”

He watches you longer than necessary, like he’s trying to see through your carefully placed calm. “And Mark’s okay with you staying back?”

There’s a shift in his expression you don’t quite pin point. Jealousy? Sadness?

You laugh, ignoring the possibilities, shaking your head. “Mark’s job is to travel and secure global opportunities for us. It’s what we pay him to do. He’s always been my business partner. You know that.”

Leaning back in your chair, cheek resting on your knuckles, you study him. There’s a hint of relief on him that you catch.

“Were you hoping I was secretly dating him?” The faintest shade of red on his ears makes you chuckle. “Or…wait, Jeon Jeongguk, are you jealous?” That thought would’ve been a miracle. But for now, it’s just a good joke to share over breakfast.

He chuckles, shaking his head, voice barely above a mumble. “No. Just… curious.”

It breaks some of the remaining tension between you. The rest of the breakfast is filled with easier conversations. Updates about mutual friends, industry rumors, the chaos of wrangling Seventeen’s troublemaker into a shoot.

“Thought photographers were supposed to be calm under pressure,” you tease, tapping your spoon lightly against your cup.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, mouth twitching into a reluctant smile. “Try staying calm when your model’s flexing so hard he knocks over the entire backdrop.”

You laugh harder than you should, and for a moment, it feels like you're twenty something again — sitting cross-legged on your old apartment’s rooftop at midnight, talking about dreams and futures you thought were set in stone.

The scent of iris, white musk, and soft leather clings to the air — the signature fragrance of Seora, your second home for so many years.

Your mother walks beside you, silent but steady, her presence a pillar against the invisible weight pressing down on your chest. She’s dressed sharply, as always — an elegant blazer, pearl earrings, her posture straight and proud. But you see the way her hands tighten briefly around the strap of her handbag.

You pretend not to notice.

Employees bow as you pass — some with genuine warmth, others with careful restraint. Still, you return every bow with a polite smile, polished and practiced, a mask you've worn too long to forget.

Mark is already waiting just outside your office – leaning lazily against the wall like he owns the place, as usual.

“There she is. Queen of Seora.” He greets you with wide grin, sweeping into an exaggerated bow. “Her Royal Highness finally graces us with her presence.”

You huff a laugh, and even your mother’s lips twitch with reluctant amusement. She’s long since accepted your dynamic with Mark — chaos and comfort stitched together.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Tuan,” you reply, brushing past him.

He shrugs, falling into step behind you. “Worth a shot.”

Inside, your office is unchanged — glass desk, curated shelves, years of framed achievements, the photo of you and your mother at your first gala.

But something feels off today. The air, maybe. Or the way the room echoes in silence a little too much.

Setting your bag down, you smooth the creases out of your skirt, take a seat after behind your desk. Your mother sits across from you – dignified, composed – her eyes scanning the folders Mark has already placed neatly at the center of the table.

“Preliminary turnover documents.” He explains, voice light, still professional. “Contracts, executive summaries, shareholder agreements. The ones needing your signature are flagged.”

You nod, flipping open the top folder. The pages blur for a moment before your vision clears.

You focus. One step at a time.

Across from you, your mother doesn’t speak. But you feel her eyes — weighted, patient. This was her legacy, once. Then yours. Now returning to her hands again only because it was necessary.

Forgetting the folder, she takes your hand in hers. Gives a hesitant but assuring smile as much as she can. “I’ll take care of it, darling. Don’t worry about a thing.”

You swallow thickly as you try to return a smile.

Mark leans back in his chair, trying to break the heaviness taking over the room. “So,” he says, stretching exaggeratedly, “does this mean I get majority of the shares now that the queen is abdicating?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up brighter than you expect. “If you’re willing to handle future meetings with Jeongguk. He’s getting a nice chunk once the papers go through, in case you’re forgetting.”

Mark groans, dragging a hand down his face. “So he gets the shares and visitation rights to you?”

“Didn’t realize this was a custody battle.”

Your mother chimes in dryly, eyes still on the new folders spread across your desk. “Funny how he always ends up with the best part of things he barely worked for.”

Mark’s expression tightens, a mix of humor and something sharper. “Always been the lucky one.”

The next hour is all motion. Documents reviewed, initials scrawled, strategies adjusted. You talk vendor relations. You approve final budget notes. When the paperwork is finally stacked neatly in three clean piles — Pending, Signed, Review Again — you lean back in your chair with a sigh.

Your mother rises, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her blazer. “We’ll go over the audit reports tomorrow. For now, let’s go home.”

Her gaze lingers on you for a moment — searching, aching — before she composes herself again.

You stand too, brushing your fingers lightly over the edge of your desk.

Mark doesn’t move. You look at him. The silence stretches too long — too full. “I’ll handle the Paris accounts. Send you photos soon.”

You manage a soft smile, grateful for everything he’s doing without saying it. “Make sure the lighting at our booth doesn’t wash out the models this year.”

“I’m offended you’d even think it.”

You roll your eyes.

But you’re grateful — so grateful — for the way he keeps the edges of this afternoon from cutting too deep.

The evening settled quietly over the house. No peace lingering – more like a tension waiting for the first person to break. The table was already set when Jeongguk arrived. Steam rose from the dishes laid out — galbi, japchae, kimchi jjigae, and a small stack of neatly rolled egg omelettes.

Picking up his chopsticks, he hesitated before speaking. “So…how was work today?”

You chew slowly, buying yourself a little time before answering. “Busy. Meetings here and there. Some finalizing needed for fashion week. A few contract turnovers. You know, the usual things when companies shift hands.” You shrug like it’s nothing, like you didn’t spend the entire afternoon sorting years of hard work.

Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly. “You’re…handing things over?”

You’re too quick to answer. “No, no—just…just creating a little space to breathe. Was thinking I want some time to myself.” The assuring smile you give Jeongguk was convincing enough for him to move on to lighter things. “Nothing major.”

“Mark still driving you crazy with last-minute changes?”

"Who else do you know works with me, that loves throwing in new ideas when deadlines are hours away?”

Jeongguk’s mouth quirks into a smile, the first genuine one since he sat down. “Mark. Mark Tuan. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

The night falls into a soft stillness, the kind that follows when the laughter fades and the last dishes are cleaned. Soft light spilled from the kitchen, casting a warm glow that barely reached past the doorway, leaving the front hall in shadow.

Jeongguk stands by the doorway, his hand resting on the frame, fingers lightly touching it like he needs something to hold onto. His eyes drift – over the neatly hung photos on the wall, the soft rug that shows signs of time, the wide staircase that curves the way he remembers.

One photo catches his eye—bigger than the others and set a little apart. Two people in white, laughing like nothing could ever go wrong, with the ocean in the background—Gwangalli, if he’s really looking. You wonder if he missed it this morning. Don’t blame him if he did. The nerves must’ve been burying him six feet under.

“Sorry. I’ll have Eomma take it down,” you clear your throat, breaking the quiet.

“It’s fine,” Jeongguk shifts. Glances at you and then away. “So…the hugs and forehead kisses,” You notice the small smile tugging on the corner of his lips, feeling thankful for the shift from the awkwardness. "That really had to be on the list, huh?"

A soft laugh slips from you, unguarded. “It did.”

“Was it a punishment?” It’s a joke, but you don’t miss the uncertainty flicker in his eyes.

“Is that how you feel?”

Your bluntness catches him off guard. Guilt flashes. The breath he lets out like a quiet surrender.

Slowly, he steps forward, arms coming up in a hesitant, careful hug. His chest brushes yours, his forehead resting lightly against your temple – a touch familiar, but no longer easy.

Your eyes slip closed as you let yourself lean in, not because it feels natural, but because for a moment, it’s enough to remember how it once did.

“Goodnight,” Jeongguk murmurs, his voice low and close.

You smile, the kind that’s felt more than seen. “Goodnight, Gguk.”

He lingers just long enough to press the lightest kiss to your temple — so fleeting it’s almost not there, and yet, when the door clicks shut behind him and the quiet stretches in, it’s the one thing that stays.

You sit on the edge of the bed later, hair still damp from a quick shower, your fingers curled around the corner of the old photo album you'd told yourself not to open tonight.

The room is filled with nothing but the soft hum of the air purifier and the faint ticking of the wall clock. You don’t know what you’re hoping to find in these pages. Something soft, maybe. Something easier than the quiet goodbye at the door.

The pages smell like dust and faint vanilla — the kind your mother used to tuck into the drawers when you were younger. You flip until your fingers still on a picture, one that had always made you laugh.

You’re on a picnic mat, legs stretched out, shoes kicked off beside you. Jeongguk’s in the next one — lying flat on his back with his arms thrown wide, squinting at the sun. There’s a juice box pressed to his cheek like it’s the only thing keeping him alive in the heat. He’s smiling wide, without shame or thought. His hair’s longer, lighter — summer had bleached the tips — and his shirt has ketchup on it.

You can almost hear it again.

"You're the worst picnic planner ever," he groans, dragging the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically.

"You said you wanted hot dogs."

"Not molten lava ones!"

You laugh at the memory. Remembered, he’d still eaten two more after that. Said they were terrible with his mouth full and asked for a third.

You remember how he used to love loudly. How he’d pull you into hugs like he never wanted to let go. The way he’d lean in to kiss your forehead in the middle of a crowd without caring who saw. The time he ran to the other side of the beach where the ice-cream kiosk was, just to bring you a mint chocolate cone he badly wanted you to try, holding it above his head like it was sacred.

"It’s ugly and green."

"You love ugly things."

"That’s why I’m dating you?"

"Exactly," he’d said, grinning, rain dripping from his lashes, "you’ve got great taste."

You close the album slowly.

Tonight, his arms were careful. His kiss, light as a breath. Back then, there was no hesitation. No pause before he touched you, no weight between your names.

You lie back on the bed, pressing your palms over your face, hoping to bury the pain that feels like it has made a home in your chest.

You didn’t think the time would come that you’d have to miss a version of Jeongguk who used to laugh into your shoulder and whisper stupid things to make you snort in public. The version who always held you a little longer, like he could make time stop if he tried hard enough.

You always thought that version of him would stay for a lifetime.

Now, the only way you get to see that side of him is through a list—through something he feels he has to do.

But you’ll take what you can. For now, you’ll accept whatever life hands you.

The sun hasn’t climbed high enough to chase away the gray. The streets are still damp from the night, and your breath clouds faintly as you step outside, coat collar turned up against the early chill. There’s something about mornings like this — quiet, half-lit — that makes everything feel softer around the edges.

You hadn’t slept much. Rest felt like a visitor you forgot to greet last night, slipping past you somewhere between the click of the door and the ache that settled deep in your chest. Still, your steps are steady as you make your way through familiar streets, ones your feet could trace even blindfolded.

The shop appears like a memory made solid — tucked between a florist and a tiny dry cleaner, its awning still a little crooked on one side. The glass is fogged near the bottom, and someone’s taped a doodle of a smiling sun on the door.

Inside, it’s warm. Familiar.

The left wall is still lined with notebooks and sketchpads in soft neutral tones, racks of pastel washi tape, pens arranged by gradient. You let your fingers skim the edge of a purple sketchbook on display — the same brand you used to hoard during finals week. The same ones Jeongguk used to scribble dumb little nothings in just to annoy you.

You claim your usual seat by the window, near the radiator that still hums faintly when it kicks on. The light here is gentle, and the table still has the faint outline of a coffee ring etched into the wood. The café counter sits snug beside the stationery section, and for a second, it’s easy to believe no time has passed at all.

You order for two. Wait. Don’t check your phone. Know Jeongguk’s on his way. Not like you’ve given him a choice.

Your gaze drifts — over the shelves, to the corner where a worn beanbag still sits, slouched as always. Something about the moment folds in on itself, slipping back in time.

You were running late. Again. Hair barely brushed, laces undone, your tote bag unorganized and overflowing with books needed for classes today, jammed under your arm.

The bell above the door had barely finished ringing when you stumbled in and spotted him already there, halfway through a chocolate croissant and bent over your sketchbook – the one you’ve been looking for hours this whole morning, the reason why you were late.

“Seriously?” you’d huffed, dropping into the seat across from him. “Flipped our dorm upside down looking for that and it was with you this whole time?”

“Page 14,” Jeongguk ignored your dramatic flair, eyes not even lifting. “Your mannequin’s missing a head.”

“That’s on purpose,” you muttered, grabbing the sketchbook and flipping it shut. “It’s avant-garde.”

He finally looked up, eyebrows raised in mock seriousness. “Ah. The Headless Collection. Bold.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile pulling at your mouth. “You’re annoying.”

“Thank you. I rehearse.”

You’d kicked him lightly under the table. He’d stolen a bite of your sandwich in retaliation. You’d retaliated harder, dropped three sugar cubes into his coffee knowing he only liked it black and snatched the entire croissant off his plate.

“Hey!” he’d gasped, scandalized, mid-chew. “That’s a war crime.”

You shrugged, all innocence as you took a deliberately slow bite, crumbs tumbling down your chin. “Shouldn’t have touched my sandwich.”

His eyes narrowed. “That croissant had layers.”

“So did my patience,” you replied, mouth full.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, lowering his voice like he was delivering a threat. “You realize this means war.”

You grinned. “Then choose your weapon wisely, Jeon.”

“Fine. Sketchbook turned doodle board it is.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would.”

And just like that, he was scribbling something on your sketchbook, tongue poking out in concentration while you lunged to grab it back. 

The stationery café had always been your reset button — notebooks open, drinks warm, pencils rolling off the table because Jeongguk couldn’t sit still. He always left little doodles on your margins – stick figures with six-packs, dramatic cape swirls, and when he’d feel to be more annoying, he’d scribble a crown your head.

“This one's you,” he said once, pointing to a tiny sketch of a girl shouting at a sewing machine.

“She looks like she hasn’t slept in three days.”

“Art imitates life.”

You snorted into your latte. “I’m replacing you with someone quieter.”

“Impossible,” he grinned. “You’d miss me by lunchtime.”

He was right.

You always did.

And now, it wasn’t just during your chaotic uni lunch breaks that you missed him

The chair across from you slides back gently.

You don’t look up right away — just fumble with your phone before meeting his eyes.

Jeongguk shrugs off his coat with one hand, ruffles his hair like the wind annoyed him, then sits. Tie loose around his collar, shirt wrinkled just enough to tell you he dressed in a hurry. He glances around, then places a single stem of purple tulips on the table, the soft color a little too bright for the morning. “They still sell those overpriced gel pens?”

You nod, sipping your drink. “They’re too smooth to resist.“

His eyes flick toward the shelves. “I used to steal yours.”

“You used to steal everything.”

He smiles faintly — just the corner of his mouth lifting. “You let me.”

“Was being generous.”

The waitress sets down your orders — one pastry each, two drinks. You watch as Jeongguk breaks a corner off his croissant. Eats it with quiet precision. He never used to do that. Used to make a mess.

You don’t comment on it.

“So,” he says after a moment, brushing crumbs from his fingers, “still designing things with no heads?”

You didn’t think he’d remember. A smile slips across your lips. “Wow. Callback.”

“I’m nostalgic.”

Your eyes meet. There’s something light there, flickering — not quite the warmth from before, but you’re glad to see something at least.

You reach into your bag and pull out a thin sketchpad, sliding it across the table. He lifts the cover slowly, eyes scanning your latest work. “You gave her a head this time.”

You lean back, arms crossed loosely. “Growth.”

He chuckles under his breath, fingers smoothing the paper. “She looks like she’s running.”

“She is.”

Jeongguk doesn’t ask from what. Doesn’t say anything at all. Just taps the edge of the page twice, then closes it.

The silence is comfortable. A little cautious. But not cold.

You tear off a small piece of your pastry, drop it on his plate like old habit. Used to do it when you still had some left from his that you’d stolen. Even if you’d stolen his precious croissant, you never actually finished it, always left most of it for him – knowing breakfast was the only time he’d actually eat properly, your favorite meal of the day – before the two of you start your own classes.

You knew he’d run on caffeine and stubbornness alone until evening. Then he’d video call you during one of his lectures looking like a grumpy, overgrown bunny with a camera strap digging into his neck and a frown set between his brows.

He blinks at it, then at you. “What’s that for?”

“For luck,” you simply reason.

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in luck.”

“Thought maybe I could this time.”

Jeongguk looks at you as if he’s trying to read you. Like there’s something else he wants to say. Ends up not saying anything. Just eats the piece.

Your drink’s gone lukewarm, still you sip away hoping to drown in the energy it’s supposed to give with the day that’s waiting ahead of you. Jeongguk’s gaze lingers out the window for a moment, watching a cyclist roll by, the soft clatter of gears audible through the glass.

“You still come here often?” he asks, voice casual.

“Every now and then,” you say softly. “Some places just… stick.”

Jeongguk doesn’t press. You’re thankful he doesn’t.

“I used to think the owner hated me,” he says instead. “Always caught me doodling on the napkins.”

“She didn’t hate you,” you reply. “She thought you were wasting perfectly good napkins.”

A small chuckle rumbles in his chest. “I was creating modern art.”

You roll your eyes. “You drew a chicken with sunglasses.”

“Exactly. Groundbreaking stuff. I’m the direct descendant of Van Gogh.”

The laugh that escapes you is softer this time — real, but quieter than it might’ve been years ago. You catch him watching you then. Not intensely. Not curiously. Just… there. Present. It slips away quickly when he looks down, wiping off his side of the table in random circles.

You glance over your shoulder at the display shelf by the counter — a glass case where people leave notes, scraps of things from past visits. It used to be empty. Now it’s cluttered and full of lives layered on top of one another.

Jeongguk follows your gaze. “We never left anything in there.”

“No,” you murmur. “We never needed to.”

He nods slowly, and you wonder if the weight in your words settled somewhere in him too.

You reach into your coat pocket and pull out a pen. Those smooth gel types you always fell for even when you promised yourself you wouldn’t spend another won on stationery. You slide it across the table toward him.

He looks at it, then at you. “For me?”

“Figured you’d want to deface another napkin.”

Jeongguk tears off the corner of one of the paper placemats and scribbles something. You reach over and take the pen back before he can set it down, slipping it into your pocket like it was nothing. He folds the scrap once and tucks it into his jacket.

“You’re not putting it in the case?” You ask, confused why he’d even want to keep something like that – something you’re sure doesn’t matter to him anymore.

“Maybe next time.”

You finish the last sip of your drink as the hour pulls closer to what’s next — work, the rest of the day, the return to whatever this routine is becoming between the two of you.

You stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder, grabbing on to the purple tulip after.

Jeongguk rises too, fingers brushing the edge of the table like he’s grounding himself again – a new habit you started noticing from him.

“Thanks for showing up,” you say lightly, adjusting your scarf.

I had to. He doesn’t say it, but you can see the words hovering in the hesitation behind his eyes — quiet, but impossible to miss.

The sky’s a little brighter when you both step out. The cold still clings to your skin, but the café warmth lingers at your back.

As you turn to go, Jeongguk calls out, “Hey.”

You glance back.

“I liked the new sketch,” he says. “She looked like she knew where she was going.”

“She doesn’t.”

He smiles faintly. “Neither did we.”

You don’t say anything. Just tuck your hands into your pockets, gave one last nod, before walking away.

As you pass the glass, you catch a glimpse of something slightly out of step, tucked into the reflection. You, a little lighter, and the boy beside you who used to draw chickens with sunglasses and mumble dumb jokes just to see you pretend not to laugh.

And for a moment, it’s easy to pretend this is just another morning in the middle of an old life that never cracked at the seams.

The office is a mess. Papers piled up like threats, some teetering close to the edge of his desk. The inbox blinks like a warning light. Jeongguk sits in the middle of it all, elbows pressing into the surface, fingers rubbing at his eyes. The screen blurs. Photoshoots. Edits. Meetings he’s already missed. His coffee’s gone cold. The tremble in his hand says it’s his third cup — or fourth. He’s lost count.

And on top of it all, a notification from Taehyung flashes across his phone.

K. Taehyung: Lunch date with Jiwoo.

Jeongguk swears under his breath, chair scraping against the floor as he stands. He grabs his coat on the way out, not bothering to fix his hair in the hallway mirror. As he shrugs it on, something light slips from his pocket and lands near the leg of the desk—a torn bit of paper, edges smudged faintly with purple petals drawn from a gel pen. He doesn’t notice. Leaves the office without checking if he’s forgotten anything else.

The drive to the café blurs by. Taehyung’s voice crackles through the speaker, rambling about a rookie group, a broken light, a late shoot — but Jeongguk only half-listens, mind drifting far away.

Muted light through tall windows. The smell of ground coffee, old novels, and notebooks. The gentle scrape of a cup across a wooden table. A sketchbook lying open.

His hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel.

The café he pulls up to now is different. Newer, glass and steel, designed for aesthetics more than comfort. Inside, everything gleams. Clean lines. Polished floors. The hum of conversation blends with quiet jazz in the background, curated to feel effortless.

Jiwoo’s already at the table when he enters. She stands when she sees him, her smile brief, eyes scanning his face like she’s trying to gauge the weather. She leans in for a hug, light and cautious.

A waitress appears, takes their orders — sandwiches, two coffees. Then the silence settles between them, brittle and careful.

 “You texted me,” Jiwoo speaks first. “Didn’t say much.”

Jeongguk exhales, straightens the napkin on his lap. “It wasn’t something I could explain over the phone.”

She nods slowly. “I figured.”

He runs a thumb along the rim of his water glass. “She found the divorce papers.”

There’s a pause. Jiwoo’s gaze drops for a moment, something unreadable settling in her expression before she nods again. “I thought that might happen. You waited too long, Gguk.”

“I know.”

“How did she take it?”

Jeongguk stares at the edge of the table. “She didn’t cry. Didn’t yell. Just… agreed. Agreed to sign on her terms.”

Jiwoo raises an eyebrow. “What kind of terms?”

“Meals together. Flowers. Staying close. Old habits. Forehead kisses,” he finishes, voice lower now. “Just… things we used to do.”

The words sounded simple when laid out like that, but they weren’t. They were heavy, drenched in old love and broken memories.

She looks down at her drink, stirring it even though it doesn’t need stirring. “And you agreed?”

Jeongguk nods. “I owe her at least that much.”

The noise in the café comes like a blessing. Somewhere behind them, a coffee grinder whirs to life. A baby laughs. Jeongguk’s eyes flick toward the window, to the glint of sun on glass, anywhere else except on Jiwoo, too scared of what he might find — anger, jealousy, resentment.

But he finds none of it when he finally turns to her. Only sadness. And love. And guilt.

“I hate that we hurt her,” Jiwoo says after a moment, her voice thick with guilt. “I never meant for it to turn out like this. I hope I can tell her that.”

Jeongguk’s gaze drops to her hands, still, folded tightly together. There’s a quiet ache in the way they sit, almost like they’re waiting for something. He doesn’t pause to think—just moves, his hand gently covering hers. It’s not an answer. Not an apology. Simply a comfort he hopes she feels is enough from his touch.

“I know,” he murmurs. “Neither of us did.”

The words hang in the space between them, soft but solid. Like stones dropped into still water, rippling outward. They don’t shatter anything. Not yet. But they make everything shift.

Jiwoo lets out a breath she’s been holding. Her eyes glisten, but she doesn’t cry. “Sometimes I think maybe I deserve to lose everything.”

“You didn’t make me love her less,” Jeongguk says. “That’s on me. And you’re not losing anything. I’m here. I’m still here.”

His words are calm, certain—like if he says it gently enough, it’ll stop the noise in his head.

The hard office couch pressing into your back wakes you up with a sharp breath and neck sore from where you’d curled up with your throw blanket. The room is dim and quiet, the evening air is calm and something warm and tasty drifts through the air.

Your eyes flutter open, confusion tightening in your chest.

Jeongguk.

He’s there, kneeling by the coffee table, unpacking takeout containers with quick, careful movements. The soft crinkle of paper bags and the light tap of chopsticks on plastic fill the still of the room. His hair falls over his forehead, his sleeves pushed up, jaw tight and sharp in the fading light.

“Jeongguk… what—” you rasp, voice rough from sleep, “what are you doing here?”

He stills for half a second, fingers pausing on the lid of a box.

When he looks up, his eyes flick across you quickly — too quickly.  “You’re kidding, right?” His laugh is soft, faintly bitter. “You called me here. Dinner. List.” He lifts a takeout box slightly, then lets it fall back with a soft thud. “Just following orders.”

There’s a heaviness in the way he holds himself, something tense in his shoulders, in the tired set of his mouth. But you can’t name it. Only know it’s been this way for the past few days.

Silence was acceptable, clearly you stated that on the list, but meals lately went on without your slight playful banter. Just when you thought your conversations could last more than five sentences now.

Jeongguk was never the type to waste food – something about a silly belief that the Gods would take away his perfect sculpture if he even dared – but you’ve been cleaning up for him lately, giving away his leftovers to the homeless you’d find after your dinners.

He drags a hand through his hair, exhales sharply. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, voice rougher now. “Forget it.”

Jeongguk doesn’t look at you. Just pushes a pair of chopsticks toward your side of the table, carelessly, like he doesn’t want to talk. Then you catch it – subtle, but present.

A scent that doesn’t belong here. Sweet, citrus, expensive – far from the lavender one that sticks to your blazers for weeks – one that you’d sense clinging onto his shirts when he came home too late. The same scent hovering in the car when you borrowed his since yours was in the shop one time. The scent that told you something had shifted before the universe decided to slap you with the truth.

You shift your legs beneath the blanket, voice gentle. “You were with her today, weren’t you?”

Jeongguk stops mid-movement. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to.

Still, you smile—small, sad, and real. “It’s okay. I just… noticed.”

He exhales, short and stiff. “You always do.”

“You’re acting like you got caught doing something wrong.” It’s meant to tease, to warm the cold edge creeping in – a light touch to remind him that he doesn’t have to walk on egg shells around you anymore.

He finally turns to face you, expression tired. “Didn’t I?”

“No,” you say, quiet. “Not really.”

Jeongguk stares at you, like he doesn’t know what to do with the kindness you’ve been showing. Eyes flicking away for a second like he’s searching for a reason to deserve it. But there’s nothing—just you, sitting there, still choosing to stay soft when it would’ve been easier not to.  

You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Sit down. Eat something. Then talk to me.”

“Kind of hard to do when our wedding rings are right here and well –“

A small laugh echoes from you, unsure if it’s meant to ease the tension or just fill the silence.

“Think about you and me, back in Uni, two dumb teenagers whose biggest crisis was whether to stock up on strawberry or banana milk for finals week."

There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of the old Jeongguk you remember. “Banana Milk wins, by the way.”

“Nuh-uh. Strawberry milk.” You chuckle, slowly drifting back to your point. “You’ve got to let out whatever you’re holding in there, Gguk. Sulking through the remaining twenty-two days will make you feel like there’s twenty-two years left. I can’t have you hating me for that long."

It’s a soft joke, still, it curls in your chest like smoke.

“I don’t hate you.” he says, like it never even crossed his mind.

Eyes focused on the blanket, you nod, holding onto the words quietly—they’re not much, but they’re more than you thought you’d get.

“If it helps, I’ll turn around and you can talk,” Shifting slight, folding your legs beneath, you face the other way. “You won’t get to see me, won’t get to worry about how I’ll react. Maybe I’ll nod, just to let you know I’m listening, and promise, I will.”

The air is filled with stillness. You think Jeongguk might’ve left you in the office but you hear his soft breaths as he lowers himself beside you, slowly but heavy with the weight he’s been carrying for the past few days.

“I was with her today.” He starts, quickly stops, unsure if he should continue but does anyway, the weight burning in his chest. “We talked earlier this week. About you. About…everything.”

You wait. Because if there’s one thing you still know how to do, it’s wait for him to speak when he doesn’t want to.

“She feels guilty,” he goes on. “Wants you to know that she never meant for it to happen this way. That we hurt you.”

You nod slowly, not because it helps, but because you’re too tired to hold it against her, against them. Most importantly, if it eases something in Jeongguk, then that’s more than enough.

Your heart stumbles but you let him continue, keeping that promise to listen.

“Told her about the list you set up before we…”

“Divorce. You can say it.” There’s a quiet laugh that escapes you.

“Right. That. Uhm…so I told her that and she’s scared.” Jeongguk says, voice cracking in between. “Thinks she’s going to lose me.”

“Will she?” You question a little sharp. Didn’t mean to. Just blurted it out in the spur of the moment.

“No.” he answers too quickly. Your heart silently cracks too quickly. “I mean…fuck, I don’t mean to sound –” You begin to hear sniffs and the slight tremble of his hands that are too close to your back now, as if he’s trying to reach out to you, trying to apologize to you.

“Hey, Gguk, breathe. It’s okay. It’s just me. Eighteen-year-old me, strawberry milk. Focus. I know you’ve got this.” You smile even though he can’t see it. Hoped he hears it in your voice the comfort you want to give him.

And you think it might’ve worked when you catch that soft, boyish laugh, just like the one he had at eighteen.

“It’s why I’ve been seeing her more often these days. Wanted to make her feel that I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s good you’re trying for her,” you manage to say. “But you sound more exhausted than relieved that you’re trying.”

He lets out a breath, ragged. “Because I am exhausted. Feels like I’m not trying enough. Feels like I broke something." He pauses. "No, I know I did. Her. You. Me. And now I feel stuck pretending like I know how to fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix anything, Gguk.” You say softly. “Not for me.”

The quiet in the room makes you hear him clearly swallow the lump in his throat. “What do I do?”

“Focus on you and her, if that’s what you want. Save what you can. Fight for what you can. Don’t carry all of the weight.” You pause, staring ahead, on the shelves behind your desk. “You may be the golden boy, but you’re not God.” The words sit between you for a second. “Can’t save everybody. Simple as that.”

A small silence settles, like peace finding its way.

Behind you, the shift is clear when you hear Jeongguk move closer; leans in just enough to press a soft kiss to the side of your head. His arms wrap around you, gentle, like old times. You’d like to think it is and not because of some stupid terms you listed on paper.

“You always knew how to keep me off the ledge.” His grip around your waist tightens for a second. Your heart tightens too. “Why did you let me talk to you like this?”

You let out an unintended shaky breath. “Because you’re trying.”

“Trying what?”

“To be good.” You don’t move, just sit there with him holding on, blanket in between, your hands curled into the fabric to keep them from shaking.

You wanted this—for him to feel lighter, even just a little. And you meant every word. You really did.

But each word that slipped out left a mark, small and invisible, like paper cuts. You blink, slow, but a tear still slips free, soaking into your lap before you can stop it.

Jeongguk doesn’t see. You don’t let him.

The deal was for him to open up to you. No one said anything about you needing to open up in return.

And some things are better left quiet.

[wandascosmic]

she's cheer captain (5)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part five of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3595

tags: best friends to lovers, slowburn, reader is in love with wanda, wanda's as oblivious as ever but loves reader so much, in a friends way, pining, a whole basketball game, reader is a pro basketball player actually, except i don't know anything about basketball so this is the best i could do, minor injury, minor mention of blood, vision sucks

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

“No, I know the warranty’s expired but isn’t it supposed to last longer than two years if it isn’t defective?” you overhear Wanda say on the phone. “Ok, 3 years then.” 

Furrowing your brows, you make your way over to her desk to ask what’s wrong, seeing Wanda anxiously biting the nail of her thumb. 

“Hey, Maximoff, what’s up?” you ask softly, Wanda’s head jerking up at the sound of your voice, her eyes softening once she sees you. 

“Hey,” she mumbles dejectedly. “Um, the toaster oven I got at my engagement shower broke,” she laughs awkwardly. “And I know it’s silly, but..” 

The toaster oven you got at your engagement shower 3 years ago. For a wedding that still has yet to be set. “No, I understand,” you offer her a reassuring smile. 

Wanda smiles back gratefully.  

Drumming your fingers on the desk, you ask, “Are you ready for the basketball game against the warehouse staff today?” 

Wanda groans, leaning back against her chair. “It’s not gonna end well.” 

You laugh. “Wow, Maximoff. For Tony’s designated cheerleader for today, you’re quite negative,” you tease.  

Wanda laughs as well. “That was Sam’s idea so he could suck up to Tony.” She shakes her head. “And besides, I declined because I can’t cheer against Vis.” 

Your smile falls for a split second. 

“Yeah, I guess not.” 

***

“Attention, everyone,” Tony announces coming out of his office. 

You swivel in your chair to face him, leaning your head on your hand. 

“Corporate just called me to let me know that we need staff to come in on Saturday,” he says, making the office staff groan collectively. 

“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” he mutters. “Anyways, they let me know that the basketball game later today against the warehouse staff can be used to decide who comes in and who will stay home, and I agreed.  So those of you playing, you better win, because I refuse to come in on a Saturday,” Tony says menacingly before going back into his office.  

“Wait, Tony, we still need a cheerleader!” Sam yells as he runs after him, but Tony ignores him, shutting the door in his face. “Wanda, I still think it should be you.” He says, turning to the receptionist. 

“No, Sam,” she declines once more, dialing a number on the desk phone and putting it up to her ear. “I can’t cheer against my fiance.” 

“I’ll do it,” you say, making Sam and Wanda look at you curiously. 

Sam turns around and narrows his eyes at you. 

“You know, wear a little flouncy skirt and what-not,” you say seriously. 

Wanda snickers quietly at your joke. 

“Yeah, right, Y/N,” Sam grumbles. 

“Oh, yeah,” you rub your chin with your pointer finger and thumb. “I forgot I’ll be busy playing on the team, and you’re benched for nearly setting the building on fire last year after losing in foosball.” 

***

You were actually looking forward to playing on the team. It’s been a while since you had played basketball, but you had been on your high school team for all four years and it was something that had kind of become your thing. Plus, you may or may not have the motivation of impressing a certain green-eyed brunette.  

“Are you coming down?” you ask Wanda as you tie up your running shoes in the chair across from her. 

“Yeah, I’m just forwarding the phones,” Wanda answers, pressing a few buttons absentmindedly. 

“You gonna wish me luck?” you ask. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna need it,” Wanda returns, her mouth opening in fake shock as you laugh at her.  

“No way, is that trash-talk from Wanda?” you tease. 

“I’m just saying, Vision is very competitive,” she tells you with a shrug. “And, he wants to take the waverunners to the lake this Saturday, so..” Wanda tilts her head in a teasing manner. 

“Wow,” you say wistfully with a shake of your head. “Well, I’m going to the outlet mall on Saturday,” you respond as if you were rather conflicted. “So if you wanna save big on brand names and Vision has to work,” you pause to give her a teasing smile making her let out a laugh. “Which he will, because I’m also competitive.” Wanda raises her eyebrow slightly at the challenge. “You should feel free to come along,” you invite.    

Wanda ponders for a moment, tapping her chin in deep thought. “Um, I think I’m gonna be up at the lake,” she answers with a smirk.

You narrow your eyes at her with a smile. “I think I’ll see you at the mall, Maximoff.” 

Wanda laughs. 

***

Sam had somehow convinced Tony to let him play on the team despite his history of quick-tempered overreactions, you didn’t know how he did it, but you suspect it might have to do with the half-eaten chocolates you saw in Tony’s office through the window which weren’t there in the morning. 

Now, your team consists of you, Sam, Tony, Nat, and Peter, who joined last week as the new intern. 

“Alright,” Tony walks onto the middle of the floor of the warehouse. “Those of you on the team with me, you better win because I refuse to come in on a Saturday,” he announces, which you suppose is his version of a pep talk. 

“Wow, Tony, very motivational,” Nat replies sarcastically with her arms crossed. 

“You know, if we win, maybe Tony will buy us some drinks,” you tell Wanda, stretching out your legs slightly. 

Wanda pats your back in false comfort, “Well, that’s a nice thought, but once again, it’s gonna be a tough competition…” 

“Oh, you’ll see, Maximoff,” you retort. “I’ll be at the outlet mall on Saturday, getting loads of great deals, then celebrating with a round of shots.” 

Wanda laughs, and you smile at her. 

But your smile quickly falls as you see Vision come out of the warehouse bathroom in his athletic wear, on his way to greet his fiance. 

Wanda notices your line of sight and turns to face him, greeting him with a hand on his chest and a quick peck on the lips. 

“Hi,” she says in a breathy voice, looking up at him with a loving grin on her face. 

“Hey,” he whispers back, and Wanda wraps her arms around his neck as the two engage in a much deeper kiss. 

You quickly avert your gaze and decide to do a couple more stretches.  

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Tony declares as both the office and warehouse staff huddle up in a circle, Vision unfortunately ending up standing next to you. “This is gonna be a friendly game, but whoever loses this game will have to come in to work this Saturday, got it?” 

Everyone nods in understanding. 

“Alright, great, let’s start,” he says, jogging backward into place as everyone starts to disperse around the court.  

“Have a good game,” you tell Vision as the two of you take a couple of steps back to spread out, holding out your hand for him to shake. 

“Yeah, you too,” he says, shaking your outstretched hand and then running off to meet his teammates. “Should be fun,” you catch him mutter under his breath. 

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. 

“Alright, office team, huddle up,” Tony announces, snapping you out of your thoughts and forcing you to form a circle with the rest of your teammates. “Peter, you’ll take Steve, Nat, you’ll take Clint, Sam, you take Vision, Y/N, you’re on T’Challa, and I’m on Jean, got it?” 

You all nod. 

“Alright, good luck. Spread out, everyone!” Tony says as he walks towards the middle of the court to grab the ball. “Wanda, you’ve got your foot in both camps here, why don’t you do the jump ball, okay?” 

Wanda nods and walks towards Tony to grab the basketball. 

“Don’t listen to him, Wanda, trust me. Tip it my way or you’re sleeping in the car,” Vision jokes with a laugh as he squats down. 

You clench your jaw as you see Wanda’s frown. 

The ball goes up in the air and Tony quickly gets his fingers on it to tip it towards your side of the court. 

“Sam!” he yells as the ball ends up right beside Sam. 

Sam tries to dribble the ball but unfortunately, you all quickly notice that his skills are subpar at best. Sam loses control of the ball after the third dribble, allowing Vision to steal it from him. 

“Oh, come on!” Tony yells, running after Vision as well as the rest of you. 

You quickly sprint after Vision who is on his way to score, and right as he’s about to send the ball into the hoop, he passes it to Steve, who makes the shot. 

“Damn it,” you mutter. 

T’Challa tries to pass to Vision but you quickly interfere, stealing the ball before Vision can get it and sprint towards the hoop, dribbling the ball at your side. Before you can make the shot Clint guards you, so you pass it to Sam and run around Clint. 

“Shoot it, Sam!” Tony shouts. 

Sam throws the ball to try and score but misses again, accidentally throwing it over the hoop entirely. 

“Sorry, Tony!” Sam apologizes. 

“It’s fine, Sam,” Tony replies, but you can tell that he’s already starting to get frustrated. “Let’s go into zone, everyone!” he instructs. 

You jog in position, squatting down in an athletic stance to try and grab the ball being passed around between the warehouse staff.

“Defense!” Sam chants with a clap. “Defense!” 

You guard T’Challa with your arms up, and he quickly tosses the ball over your head to pass to Vision who’s right beside the hoop and about to score. You sprint to try and stop the ball, but Vision scores another point before you can reach him by doing a layup. 

Tony groans. “Who’s got Vision? Come on, step it up!” he yells. 

You move to grab the ball Vision scored and start to dribble it as you sprint towards the other side of the court. Once you reach the hoop, you’re about to shoot the ball when suddenly Vision stands in front of you to stop you from shooting the ball, with the rest of his teammates surrounding him. You inch a bit closer to him, as if you’re about to run past him on his right side, the ball dribbling at your side, and right as he starts to lean over a little bit to mirror your position, you fake him out, throwing the ball behind your back and catching it on the other side of your body, successfully passing him on his left and scoring another point. 

“Whoo!” Wanda cheers, joining in on the applause you receive for your play. 

The game passes by a bit more, and soon the ball ends up in Sam’s hands once again who’s on the opposite side of the court from the hoop. Sam goes off of his first instinct, and tries to shoot it from all the way across the court, surprising no one when it doesn’t make it into the hoop. 

“Oh, come on!” Sam yells in frustration. 

Nat steals the ball from Clint who had picked it up after Sam’s shot and scores once more, and Steve makes a 2-pointer after taking the ball from Peter, who was trying his best to be as friendly as possible since he was still the new guy. 

You furrow your brows in confusion as you hear an argument come from the corner of the warehouse, turning to see Sam trying to full-on wrestle the ball out of Jean’s hands.

“Back off!” Jean yells at him, but Sam ignores her as he gets the ball out of her grip. 

He sprints, dribbling the ball to his side as he runs towards the hoop, but unfortunately, Vision steals the ball from him before he can make it, making another shot for the warehouse team instead.  

Tony shakes his head. “All right, time out,” he says, making a T with his hands. “Office team, come on in.” 

You all walk towards Tony who stands beside the bench, panting heavily and starting to sweat quite a bit. 

“Ok, we’re down right now, guys, what do we do?” 

“Run away and start a beet farm,” Sam suggests with a shrug. 

“What? No,” Tony answers with a shake of his head. 

“Switch Y/N and Sam,” Nat responds. “She’s the strongest on our team, and it looks like Vision is theirs.” 

Wanda’s eyes widen as she overhears Nat’s suggestion from the bench. 

“Yes, smart. Ok, Y/N, you take Vision. Sam, you’ll take T’Challa, got it?” He points to the two of you and you both nod in response. 

Wanda shifts uncomfortably in her seat. 

“All right, everyone take it up a notch, come on!” Tony says with a clap, silently instructing you all to disperse across the court once more. 

The ball goes back into play, Nat taking hold of it immediately, who quickly passes it to you, and you start to dribble your way toward the hoop. You’re about to score, but Steve blocks you with his arms out, along with Vision who stands at your side to prevent you from scoring as well. 

You dribble the ball slightly, inching a bit closer to Steve before faking him out and turning to throw the ball over Vision’s head, scoring another point. 

“Yes, let’s go!” Tony yells with a fist pump. 

You jog back to the other side, giving Wanda a teasing nod as you pass her on the bench, and she watches your running form with a soft smile. 

Peter grabs the ball from Clint, starting to dribble toward the hoop, but Sam steals it from him, making his first shot of the game.  

“Same team Mr. Sam!” Peter yells, but Sam ignores him as he continues to cheer for himself.

The ball soon goes back into play, and you sprint as fast as you can after it. Steve gets ahold of it first, but gets blocked by Peter before he can go any further. You see Steve about to pass it to Vision and you quickly block him to try and catch the ball yourself. Vision growls, shoving you out of the way so you stand behind him so he can grab it instead. 

The ball gets thrown into the air, the two of you shoving each other out of the way to try and take ahold of it. As you’re about to steal it successfully, your palms are right about to contact both sides of the ball, suddenly, something hits you right in the mouth. Hard. 

You run off slightly with your hand on your mouth to check if you’re bleeding, and Wanda’s eyes widen with worry as she sits up slightly to see if you’re ok. 

“Whoa! Whoa! Vision! Foul! Dude, you just clocked her right in the mouth with your elbow,” Tony says with shock. “Y/N, are you alright?” 

Wanda tries to peer around the corner to check on you, her worry increasing by the second.  

Once you walk back onto the court and nod that you’re ok, she exhales in relief, relaxing slightly. 

The game soon restarts and the ball makes its way into your hands once more. You dribble the ball to the hoop, and right as you’re about to score, Vision stands in front of you, blocking you from making your shot. Dribbling the ball slightly, you fake him out on his right and quickly go around his left, scoring another point. Soon after, Vision is about to score when you steal the ball from him, and run towards your own hoop, scoring a 3-pointer for your team. 

Wanda smiles as she watches you play. 

Tony passes the ball to you and Vision quickly guards you by standing on your backside as the hoop is behind you. You fake him out once more and swivel around to score. However, as you do your move, he trips and falls over, making him skid a couple inches on the ground.  

“What the hell, Y/N?” he says as he stands back up, brushing his shorts slightly. 

“Hey, dude. That wasn’t her fault,” Tony says, pointing towards his untied shoelace. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he retorts, bumping your shoulder forcefully as he walks past you. 

Wanda frowns as she watches the interaction. 

Bruce lets you all know that the game is about to end in 2 minutes, and somehow Sam scores his second shot of the game after stealing the ball from Tony, making Tony roll his eyes despite being grateful for the additional point. 

The game passes quickly, and suddenly, you all hear the blare of an airhorn being fired by Bruce to indicate that the game is over. 

You stop running and try to catch your breath by putting your hands on your knees, feeling exhausted from all the exercise. 

“And the winners are,” Bruce points to Jennifer to indicate for her to do a drum roll. “The office team by 10 points!” he announces. 

You all cheer and high-five one another, and you receive a couple of compliments on your play making you smile. 

Tony turns to the warehouse staff. “All right, great,” he claps. “Guess you guys are working Saturday.” 

The warehouse workers groan, starting to walk out the door to go and change, but unfortunately, Vision has a different idea. “No, no, no, I’m not coming in on Saturday,” he says, stepping closer to Tony. 

“Hey, come on, man, they won fairly.” Steve pats him on the back. 

“No, no way, this isn’t happening, Rogers,” Vision replies, shoving Steve’s hand off of him aggressively and invading Tony’s personal space even more. 

“Dude,” Tony gets his attention. “We won. You heard me at the beginning, whoever loses will come in on Saturday. That was the deal, alright?” 

“I don’t care,” Vision snaps back. “We’re coming in on Monday, right?” 

You sigh, noticing Vision’s fists clenched and the sign that he’s about to get physical. Slightly worried for Tony’s safety and because you were already tired, you decide it’s probably best to end the argument. “Hey, Tony,” you say softly. “It’s fine, we’ll come in on Saturday,” you comply. 

Tony shakes his head. “No, Y/N, that won’t fly. We won fairly and this guy is just coming in here–” 

“Tony, it’s fine,” you interrupt. “It probably wouldn’t have been good for morale anyways,” you reason.

“You know you basically won that game for us, right?” Tony says, utterly confused by your actions. “And now you’re completely discrediting your hard work–” 

“Tony, don’t worry about it.” 

He narrows his eyes at you. “You’re insane, Y/N.” 

You shrug in response. 

“Well?” Vision demands. 

Tony looks over at you and you nod. 

“Fine,” Tony relents. “We’ll come in on Saturday.” 

Vision smiles smugly, and as leaves the two of you to head towards the bathroom, you hear his snark remark of, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

You and Tony both watch him until he closes the bathroom door behind him, and you sigh as you go to pack up your stuff. 

“I hate you,” Tony says behind you. 

You nod, zipping up your bag and patting him on the shoulder. 

“Well, you can yell at me on Saturday,” you respond, going to head upstairs to shower and change. 

***

You were back in your work clothes now, staring into the most beautiful green eyes to ever exist as the recipient of them iced your lip for you. 

“Wanda, this is completely unnecessary,” you tell her, sitting up slightly in the large chair across from her desk. “I’m fine.” 

“I know, but it looked like it hurt, and this will prevent it from swelling,” she replies, sitting down on the arm of the chair. Wanda’s brows furrow in focus as she treats your barely qualified injury, while you watch the cute expression on her face, completely entranced. Somehow, every day you just fell more and more in love with her. And right now, you didn’t even care that you had to come in on Saturday. Just one moment with the most beautiful girl the world has ever known would make you do it again in a heartbeat. 

“There, that should be good,” Wanda says, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You laugh slightly. “You mean my non-existent injury healed already?”

Wanda slaps your arm. “I was worried, you idiot. And a thank you would be nice,” she returns as she walks back to her desk. 

“Thank you, Wanda,” you say, leaning back in your chair with a smile, watching her.  

She smiles gratefully as she sits back down in her chair. 

You and Wanda start a small conversation between the two of you for the next few minutes, but unfortunately, your moment with the receptionist is cut short, as the devil himself walks in. 

“Hey, baby,” Vision greets, looking over at you as he walks towards Wanda, limping slightly due to his fall you assume. 

“Hey,” Wanda greets back as she starts to put her stuff away, Vision noticing you and giving you a grin. 

“Look at Larry Bird, over here,” he says, nodding his head over at you. “Larry Legend.” 

“Yeah, she’s, uh, she’s pretty good, huh?” Wanda agrees as she comes around her desk with her arms crossed, staring at you for a moment before grabbing Vision’s arm. 

The two start to walk out together, and you wave goodbye to both of them as a silly smile makes its way onto your face.

part 6

[creatie123]

CHOI SU-BONG/THANOS X PREGNANT!PREADER PART 2

Part 1 Part 2 part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.1 Part 6.1

tw: mentions of suicide, abusive tendencies, strong language, light manipulation, emotional whiplash, drug use

“Green light!’ the doll calls out.

We all start walking forward. When the doll calls out red light the man, 456, shouts out for everyone to freeze. I can't help but flinch every time. We have made it to about half way when a girl starts screaming. She laughs and says something, then there is a loud bang. 456, starts yelling orders. For people to not move. I'm confused until a lady screams and people start running. There are many loud bangs as the voice on the intercom reads out a list of players that are eliminated. 

456 finally gets everyone's attention telling them to get in single file lines with taller people in the front. I hide behind a tall girl. She was the girl who I was behind in the stairwell. The intercom repeats the rules before the doll calls out ‘green light’ again. 

We have almost made it to the finish when my stomach starts cramping and I lean over to grip the girl's shirt groaning in pain. 

“Hey are you ok?” she asks.

“Yes yes. Just.. just a stomach ache.” If people know I'm pregnant they may think I'm weak.

When we cross the finish line I look back out over the crowd and see the amount of blood sprayed over the field. I double over and spill my guts.

“Celina.” I hear his voice.

I freeze and go to walk away but a hand on my upper arm spins me around.

“What the hell are you doing here?” su-bong asks me.

His pupils are huge and I give him a disapproving look. I shrug his hand off my arm and turn to walk away, getting mixed with him is not something I want to do right now. Once again I find myself being forced to look at him. 120 grabs me and pulls me behind her. Glaring down at him. He scowls up at her before turning to walk away.

She turns too look at me with concern. “Friend of yours?”

I place my hand on my stomach. “Uhm..”

Her eyes widened “oh.. Oh!”

“Shhh. Please I cant have people thinking i'm not a good teammate.” she nods.

When we are all taken back to the main room I feel fatigue set in and I immediately go to lay in my bed thankfully I don't have blood on me like most players so I don't need to take my jacket off yet, not like I want to. The scars that litter my arms I know would cause unwanted attention. 

“Uhm… 121?” I hear a soft voice behind me.

“Hm? Oh 222, hi.” I say

Behind her are an elderly woman and a younger boy. 120. Is also with them.

“Can I help you guys?”

“We were wondering if you would want to team up with us?” she asks.

My eyes widen and I feel unnecessary tears well in my eyes. I nod my head

The sliding suddenly opens and the man with the square mask starts talking. A lady begins begging for him to let her go. Before I know it we are in the process of taking a vote for who wants to stay and leave. We started with 456, I watched su-bong skip up to the button and press the o, our eyes met for a second before I turned away. When my number is called I slowly walk up to the button my hands trembling. The internal debate of getting out alive but the mountain of debt I have. I hope to survive and get out with the money. Suddenly I felt a kick in my belly. I gasp and lean over the button. Guilt racks my heart as I forgot I am not deciding for only myself anymore. A tear escapes my eye, as I hit the x, the room shining red for just a second. I hear a mix of sighs of relief and disappointment. I receive my patch and go to stand beside 222 and the elderly lady. Even without looking I can feel his eyes on me. When the voting is done I feel tears escape my eyes when I see that we will be staying for another game. I walk back to my bed in defeat. When I got there su-bong was already sitting there with his friend.

“So I wasn’t just high. You really are her babe.” he says getting up.

I back away from him falling onto someone else's bed.

“What are you doing here babe?”

“Don't call me that su- thanos.” he would always get annoyed if I called him su-bong in public.

“Don’t be like that, I have missed you girl.” he says grabbing my wrist and pulling me down so I am sitting in his lap.

Panic as his arms wrap around my stomach and his body stills. At that exact moment my child has chosen now would be a good time to be active. And I can feel him kick my stomach. Right. Against. His. hand. 

“What the fuck. Are you-” I shoot up out of his hold and bolt off to the bathroom.

Slamming the door open I kneel in front of the toilet and empty my guts. Tears burn my eyes at the burning feeling in the back of my throat and the aching in my chest. The door to the bathroom slams open and I hear su-bong calling out my name. He sounds beyond furious. I sit huddled on the toilet clutching my stomach. I remember all to late that the door is not locket as its slams open omitting a crashing sound when it hits the wall.

“Are you.” it wasn't a question at this point.

I simply nod, I try but the tear will not stop.

“Is it mine.” again it was not a question.

I nod. Before I can blink he is kneeling in front of me staring at my stomach. He reaches out slowly being met with a little kick in return. His face is full of hurt confusion and anger.

“How far along are you.”

“24 weeks.” I whisper, dropping my head.

“How long have you known.”

“I found out at 14 weeks.” 

“And you left me at 10.”

“Su-bong I-” I am cut off with him slamming his fist into the wall. I flinch and shrink into the toilet seat.

I yell out as his fist tangles in my hair and yanks my head back to look at him. His jaw is tense and his pupils are shot.

“How did you find out.”

“I-I.”

“Dont fucking stutter when you talking to me bitch.” he spits yanking my hair again.

My scalp burns with the abuse. “I found out when I was at the hospital!” I cry.

“Why the fuck where you at the hospital, celina.”

“Su-” a sharp tug on my hair corrects me. “Thanos, please stop hurting me.” I sob.  

“Baby you know I hate repeating myself.”

“I wanted to die!” I sob.

His motions freeze. I think I could hear his breathing stop for a moment.

“You. you tried?” I nod the best I could with his grip on my hair.

Before I know it I am being pulled into my ex’s arm. He cradles my head to his chest and I bury my face in his chest letting out all my frustration and sadness and anger. And god damn it i missed him. I missed my su-bong.

“Can I see?” I hear him whisper.

Sniffling, I pull back and look at him, “see?”

He looks at my stomach.

“My arms are… gross.”

He just cocks his head at me like a stupid fucking puppy not understanding why its getting scolded. This is why I hate it when he is on drugs. He gets so bipolar.

“I want to see,” he says placing his hand on my stomach again.

I sigh. With trembling hands I unzip my hoodie and let it slide down my area. My short sleeve shirt is just slightly too tight against my growing bump. Despite wanting to see my belly his eyes immediately lock onto my arms and his face contorts into an emotion I have never seen on his face. I wrap my arms around myself. 

“Before I came here.” he pauses, placing his hands on my shoulders and running them down to take my hands. “The recruiter found me on a bridge. I was gonna jump. There was my debt and then the drugs and before I knew it you were gone and I didn’t know where you were. I missed you so much baby.” 

I’m the one to pull him into me this time “su-bong-”

The door to the bathroom slams open, cutting off what I was about to say. We both whip around to look at who just entered.

~~~

hi everyone I am happy that I got to post this chapter so soon, I am sorry about the second cliffhanger in a row, I cant say anything other than I hope you think them as much as do. Let me know what you think! or if you want me to take a brake from this story and focus on a specific request, my requests are always open!

till next time

-Creatie

[leafnyx]

You don’t have to write a part 3 for the Nam-gyu x male reader fic, BUT if you decide to you got a prime reader right here!😛🙏🏻

Death Games and Attachments #3 (Nam-gyu x male reader)

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: American reader ‼️, possibly ooc, talk of death, smoking, fairly rushed ending, happy/hopeful ending, open ending (?)

Setting: Post-season 2

A/n: Multiple people asked for a part three so here it is! This will be the last part of this fic, thank you guys so much for reading all of this and enjoying my writing :)

You wake up to the sound of music playing over the speakers and a weight in your arms. You blink your eyes open, immediately realize you aren’t at home. The first thing you see is Nam-gyu’s face, still asleep. The two of you are snuggling, face to face, and it seems like you have been for a while because your arm that is beneath him hurts like hell.

You wiggle your arm from underneath him as gently as possible, not wanting to wake him up, before realizing he’s gonna have to wake up anyways. You continue pulling your arm out but you make no move to be gentle now.

Nam-gyu wakes up with you moving him around. Ulike yesterday he makes no move to complain, just sitting up and rubbing his eyes with his palm.

“You ready for the game?” He asks you in a yawn.

“We’re gonna need to vote first” You reply, sitting up aswell.

“Shit, I forgot about that… some pussies are probably gonna fuck up the vote”

You hum in response, looking around at the 100 people left in the game walking around the room. It’s way less crowded than it was when you first came here.

You begin thinking about your vote. Part of you wants to vote X, you want to go home, but the other part of you wants to vote O just so you don’t feel like you betrayed your group.

You hope someone else changes their vote to X so you don’t have to decide.

The doors open in the front and the guards walk out. Nam-gyu hops off the bed and scrambles to get the shoes on, you do the same, before the both of you run off in the direction of Thanos. You’re able to spot his easily because of his bright purple hair and the two of you find him in no-time.

To your surprise, Nam-gyu doesn’t immediately ask Thanos for a pill, he just stands in the crowd waiting for his number to get called.

“Vote O, okay?” Thanos says in English.

You nod and so does Nam-gyu even though you don’t think he fully knows what Thanos is saying. The numbers are called up starting at 1, so you’re gonna have to vote before the other two.

You’ve decided to vote for O and just hope that someone from the O side has changed their mind and votes X. You don’t want to be seen as a traitor like Se-mi and Min-su.

Soon a voice calls “118” and you step forward. You pause infront of the button and raise your hand towards it. Your hand hovers over the X button but you ultimately press O, sticking to your guts.

You walk over to the blue side and look back at Thanos and Nam-gyu who are smiling at you and holding their thumbs up. You’re pretty sure you did the right thing.

“124” Nam-gyu walks up and presses O without a second thought, he proceeds to walk over to you and sling an arm over your shoulder. You don’t say anything about it, not minding the touch.

Min-su is called up after and as he walks to the podium you can see Nam-gyu’s face beside you turn to a scowl. Min-su presses X.

“Pussy..” Nam-gyu mutters. “I knew we shouldn’t have let him on the team.”

“Yeah” You reply, just brushing him off and not really agreeing with his sentiment. Min-su isn’t that bad, he’s just scared and honestly you get it. He’s lucky to have a friend like Se-mi.

After a few minutes Thanos’ number is called and he half-runs half-skips up to the front and slams his hand down on the circle button. The votes are tied.

After a few more people vote it’s almost done and no one has changed their vote yet until one of the last few people. A woman with an O patch walks forward, you saw her with the crazy shaman lady earlier. Her hand hovers over the O button before she suddenly presses X. Cheers erupt on the side of the X’s and your mouth drops. You look over to the shaman and she looks pissed but she’s trying to hide it.

“Fuck” You hear from beside you.

You look over at Nam-gyu, whose hand is still around your shoulder, and he looks somewhat nervous.

You need 2 X’s to change their votes to continue the game and 1 to tie, though no one wants another 50/50. But you doubt that it’s going to happen, the X’s all seem scared, especially after the last game. There’s no way an X is gonna change their vote.

There’s numbers go up until it’s 456’s turn to vote, but by then it doesn’t matter, the votes are 50-49 The X’s won. 456 pushes the X button and the screen changes to 51-49. He smiles as he turns around. The X’s cheer but your side is silent.

“Mother fuckers..” Nam-gyu says beside you.

“I’m gonna kill Min-su next time I see him” You hear Thanos say from the other side of Nam-gyu.

The room starts to fill up with gas as the guards step back through the doors. An O tries to make a run for it but they don’t make it on time, slamming onto the shut door. Nam-gyu’s hand clutches onto your jacket and your hand beside him grabs onto his.

Your vision goes blurry and you start to feel tired. You hear people beside you colapsing onto the floor and you’re dragged down as Nam-gyu falls unconscious. You hit the ground and pass out.

-

You wake up and open your eyes but you can’t see anything. You blink, you know your eyes are open, but it’s all dark. You try to speak but there’s something covering your mouth, all that comes out is mumbles. You realize your arms and legs are tied up as well and you’re very cold. You wiggle around but you can’t do much, you’re in a confined place. You hear someone trying to speak beside you but they can’t either.

Is this how they’re getting you out of the game? They could at least be a bit gentler and not have you are bound up.

A rush of wind comes in and you shudder before you’re suddenly pushes forward onto concrete.

You let out a muffled yell. You hear someone fall down beside along with some less heavy things being tossed out, then the sound of a car driving off.

You wiggle around the ground, now having more space but your movement is still limited. Suddenly, your hand touches something else, it feels fleshy. You touch around the person, you think you’re touching their arms. Your hand moves down and you feel a rope. You do your best to undo the rope, it takes a few tries but eventually you manage to get it off.

You hear the person move around, probably going to sit upright. After a few seconds of the sounds of cloth you hear.

“[name]?” It’s Nam-gyu. Immediately you feel relieved that you weren’t left here with some random person. You try to tell him to untie the ropes on your wrist but one again it’s all muffled. You wiggle your arms for emphasis and he gets the message.

He undoes the ropes as quick as possible, which really isn’t all that fast. Once your hands are free you take off the blindfold and the thing around your mouth. You let out a sigh, looking over to see Nam-gyu untying the wipe from his angled. He’s just in his underwear and you see that you are aswell. You see plastic bags beside the two of you and move to undo the wipe around your ankles so you can get changed.

One you have the rope off, and you throw it to the side, you grab the bag and untie it. Inside is your clothes, your phone which you had on you when you entered the game, and a lump of money. Your mouth goes dry, even though the money didn’t seem like all that much when it was up on the screen, seeing it like this. It’s a shit ton. Atleast more than wat you’re used to here.

You snap out of it and grab your shirt and pants, quickly moving to put them on, followed by socks and your shoes. Once you’re done you look over at Nam-gyu who’s also changed and looking around. The two of you are in an alley and the sun is setting in the sky above you. You don’t recognize your surroundings but it seems like Nam-gyu does.

“We’re outside club pentagon” He points at a small light up sign by the metal door on the wall. “I work here, my apartment is close”

You ask where exactly the two of you are and he answers. You realize where you’re currently living is no where close to here.

“You can stay over at mine for the night” Nan-gyu says. “It’s crappy but it’s good enough for the night. They you can take a cap back home in the morning, I’m sure with the money we got you’ll have enough to buy one.”

You smile. “Alright, lead the way” You grab your phone out of the bag and click it on before realizing it’s dead. You put it into your pocket and tie up the bag with your money in it before following Nam-gyu out of the alley.

The walk to his apartment is quiet, Nam-gyu doesn’t make any move to touch you or even get too near you. It’s like the two of you don’t know each other, like you didn’t go through a life or death situation together.

But ultimately you get it. Especially since you were just left to go. You assume he’s still trying to make sense of everything that happened, and you are too. You just hope that you’re able to go back to how it was between the two of you before. Yesterday.

It really doesn’t feel like it was just yesterday, it feels like you’ve known Nam-gyu for forever. It’s probably because of the situation you two went through together.

You walk up to a small, fairly dirty appartment building. Nam-gyu steps through the door and you follow. You’re greeted by a set of stairs which the two of you walk up until you reach the 5th floor. You walk through a small, cramped hallway. Nam-gyu stops in front of door 503 and takes a key out of his pocked, putting it into the handle and pushing the door open.

He steps through the door and you follow suit. Inside is a small living room with a kitchenette. There’s two doors, one you assume leading to a bedroom and one a bathroom. The room is fairly messy but it’s not too bad, it’s an organized type of messiness. For the most part, but there are a few piles of whatnot in the corners of the room.

Nam-gyu walks over to the kitchen and opens the cabinets, going through it.

“All I have is ramen, so I hope you’re fine with that cause if not you’re not eating”

You laugh. “I’ll absolutely eat it, I’m starving, we haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

“Yeah, fuck I’m hungry as hell”

He grabs two packs of cheap ramen and puts them on the counter.

“Oh, do you have a changer? My phones dead” You ask, remembering your phone in your pocket.

“Yeah I should have one in my bedroom, you can go find it.”

You nod and walk over to a door, you open it and it’s the bedroom. First try.

You walk in. It’s fairly cramped with a small bed in the corners of the room. There’s a dresser up against the wall beside the door and piles of clothes everywhere. You spot a socket on the wall with a clone charger cord coming out of it. You walk up and hope it’s the goth cord for your phone.

You get your phone and push the cord up against it and.. it goes it. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your phone on the ground, and you stand up from where you were crouched down. You look around the room again briefly and your eyes land on a pair of round glasses on a nightstand beside Nam-gyu’s bed.

You walk back out of the room. “You wear glasses?” You ask Nam-gyu.

“Yeah, I’ve had to for a while, I’m basically blind.”

“Why weren’t you wearing them in the game?”

“It’s embarrassing, man. I don’t wear them out of my house.”

“Whattt, it’s not embarrassing. You need them to see. Anyways, you’d probably look good with them on.” You walk up beside him and lean onto the counter.

He’s put a pot on the stove with water in it which is currently heating up.

“Yeah, sure” He says, brushing you off.

You smile at him. “You’re house is a mess by the way”

“Shut up, I don’t usually have guests around. Either way, atleast I know where everything is, it’s a clean sort of messy.”

“Mhm, sure” You glance over to the piles of junk on the floor.

“Fuck off, if you’re gonna complain then get out” He says, obviously joking.

“Nah”

He drops one of the packs of ramen into the pot and breaks it up with a chopstick. He then drops the second one in, breaking that one up aswell. He puts the chopsticks off to the side, letting the ramen cook.

“What do you think happened to Thanos?” You ask, not expecting an actual answer. You don’t care all that much for Thanos but you spent the past few days with him as well so you’ve come to see him as a friend, even if he doesn’t see you as such and even if he’s annoying as hell.

“He probably got kicked out naked like us. Image he got kicked out with Min-su” Nam-gyu snickers.

“I hope not, Min-su’ll end up dead” You laugh.

“Serves him right.” Nam-gyu says. He picks up two packets of spices that came with the rakes and pours the contents in, mixing it around. “But I’ll probably see him again at the club… well if I manage to get my job back.”

“Yeah.” You realize that you’ve also been gone for a few days, maybe even a week, without telling your employers where you’ve been. The thought worries you but you but you don’t deal with it right now, you haven’t eaten anything all day and the ramen is starting to smell good. You peek over Nam-guy’s shoulder to check on the food.

“You almost done?” You ask.

“Give me a second, damn.” He swats you off, but as you go to stand beside him again his hand rests on your arm. It seems like he’s still as clingy outside the game. You don’t mind it, it’s somewhat endearing, which you think is a weird term to refer to Nam-gyu, a drugged up asshole, with.

He soon removes his hand, though, to grab the pot off of the stove. He places it on the counter and turns the stove off. Nam-gyu grabs two bowls out of a cabinet and hands them to you.

“Put them on the table” You nod and put them onto a small two-seater table in the corner of the room. You place one bowl infront of each seat and Nam-gyu walks up with the pot and places it in the middle. He walks back to the kitchen and grabs two pairs of chopsticks before pausing.

“You know how to use chopsticks, right?” He says, teasingly.

“Of course I know how to use chopsticks, I’ve lived here long enough.”

He walks back over and throws a pair of chopsticks infront of you before grabbing is own and getting some of the ramen out of the pot and dropping it into the bowl, quickly eating what he got. You do the same, grabbing a small portion and eating it within the span of seconds.

“God, ramen has never tasted so good” You say, with food in your mouth.

“Fuck yeah” Nam-gyu say, grabbing more ramen out of the pot. His hair falls forward onto his face but he quickly pushes it back.

The two of you finish up the two packets of ramen in less than 10 minutes.

The conversation doesn’t start back up immediately, both of you sitting in silence, but you speak up with something that’s been on your mind.

“If you got the chance to, would you want to go back into the games?”

Nam-gyu stays quiet for a few seconds before responding. “Probably not. It was easy to keep going when I was already in it, and with the help of the pills, but now that I’m out of it I don’t think I’d have the courage to go back.”

You nod, his answer more thoughtful than you expected but not fully unexpected. You understand the sentiment, and you expected that part of the reason he was so confident with continuing was Thanos’ mystery pills.

“What about you?” He asks.

“Same. If I’m being honest I wanted to go home for a bit but I stayed because of you and Thanos. I felt more confident with you guys, like there was an actual chance for me to get far in it.”

“Huh” Is all Nam-gyu says to respond. The conversation stops there, Nam-gyu picks up the pot and you get the bowls and chopsticks. The both of you drop everything in the sink, Nam-gyu making a passing comment about dealing with it later before excusing himself to the bathroom.

You sit back down at the table and think. You wonder if your life is going to be any different now. You have more money, sure, but it’s not enough to cover everything. It’ll give you a good push forward either way.

But will the game itself affect you? You’re out of it but it was a fairly traumatizing situation. You feel fine now, but that’s probably because you haven’t fully processed what happened yet.

Truthfully you don’t know if you’ll be able to go back to your daily 9 to 5. It’s only been a few days since you were there but it feels like everything’s changed. You guess that’s your answer. It might feel different but it won’t be all that different physically. Well as long as you get your job back.

You snap out of your thoughts as Nam-gyu walks back towards you.

“Fuck I want those drugs Thanos had right now” He immediately says. “Do you want a smoke?”

“Nah”

“Alright” He walks off to his room and you decide to follow him. He grabs a cigarette from a drawer along with a lighter and opens the window before lighting his smoke. Outside it’s basically dark, you can’t believe it’s already nighttime since you feel like you just woke up. You suppose you were probably knocked out most of the day.

“So, are you always so touchy?” You ask, curious if he was clinging to you because he likes you or if it’s just something he does.

“Not usually, only with people I like” He replies, taking a drag. “I did it with Thanos, though, cause it was useful sticking to him. He helped me through the games and let me have some of his drugs. I thought he was stupid at first but he isn’t all that bad.” Nam-gyu rambles on.

He explained why he did it with Thanos but now with you. So that would mean he just likes you, right? You decide not to bring it up yet.

“Yeah, honestly Thanos was kinda funny. I found him annoying first though”

Nam-gyu laughs. “Same, the first time I met him in the club I hated him, he looked so cocky and self centered. But then I realized it’s probably to make up for him being insecure.”

“Hm, yeah a lot of people do that. The drugs definitely helped make him louder and more confident though.”

“Even without them he tried flirting with that girl in the first game, it was so embarrassing I walked away, pretended I didn’t know him the whole game.”

You laugh at that, you’re pretty sure you saw the first bit of it but walked away as to not experience him embarrassing himself.

After a bit Nam-gyu snuffs out the cigarette on the windowsill and throws the but outside.

“Fuck nature.” You say, jokingly, moving to go get your phone from the charger.

Nam-gyu huffs and closes the window. You pick up your phone, it’s not fully charged but it’s good enough so you unplug it. Once it turns back on you see new texts. You turn your phone off and put it into your pocket, looking over at Nam-gyu.

“Are you tired at all?” You ask him.

“Nope”

“Me neither, feels like I just got up”

“Well there’s not much to do around here”

“… if I lay down I’ll go to sleep eventually.” You say, shrugging your shoulders.

“You can sleep in my bed” Nam-gyu quickly says. “I’m sure there’s enough space for both of us” Now there’s definitely no excuse for the two of you to sleep in the same bed but you find there’s no need for one as you agree to do it.

“You can sleep in some of my clothes… I’m sure I have something clean around here.” He moves to look through his dresser before he pulls out a pair of shorts and a white T-shirt which he tosses over to you.

You go into his bathroom to change and when you come out he’s in a pair of sweats and a black shirt.

He sits down on the bed looking more awkward than he was previously. You realize it’s different out here than it was in the game in many ways. You sit beside him and lay down against the wall.

He says down infront of you and like last night you wrap an arm around him and he snuggles up into it.

Even though it was awkward at first you feel more at peace like this. And like you said previously, you begin to get tired and soon drift off to sleep feeling calmer than you have the past three nights.

The next morning goes by faster than you realize. You get up before Nam-gyu but don’t wake him, deciding to watch videos on your phone while he’s still asleep.

He wakes up an hour later and you finally get out of bed. The two of you talk over another packet of ramen, since it’s about all that Nam-gyu has in his apartment currently. After breakfast you walk out of the apartment and flag a taxi down, paying the guy in cash and telling him where to take you.

You exchange phone numbers with Nam-gyu and then you’re off, back to your home.

Part of you worries that it’s going to be hard to readjust to going back to work but you know that after a bit it’ll be as if nothing happened, hopefully.

You let out a sigh and stare out of the window. Atleast you have Nam-gyu’s number now, maybe you’ll get lunch with him someday, or visit club pentagon. Who knows.

[klausysworld]

Love is never simple PART 2!!! (Part 1 here)

(I will be changing some things about the original plot, I hope that nobody minds)

After returning home Klaus ordered two of his hybrids to follow and report on Y/n. If she was any good at vampire hunting then he needed to keep a good eye on her. He didn't want her to think she had any kind of upper hand over him.

It was clear to say that he underestimated her.

The second his hybrids set their eyes on her she could sense it. It clicked in her mind immediately that Klaus knew. She had two ways to play: pretend she didn't know or send him a message. She didn't think about it for too long if she were honest, she desperately wanted to behead a hybrid.

It was easy to take them out, they weren't expecting her to be behind them when they followed her round the corner. She called Tyler and yelled t him to get his sorry ass to the street she was on. She them threatened to leave him in a similar state to his fellow mongrels if he didn't do exactly as she said.

That evening, when klaus came home he found both hybrids sat on his bed. Blood covered his bedding, drenching the mattress and staining everything. The hybrids held the others heads in a way that made it seem like it was an offering and it was so psychotically disturbing that Klaus found himself smiling. A laugh left his lips and he pressed his hand to his mouth to quieten himself, unaware that Tyler was messaging Y/n and letting her know of Klaus's reaction.

Klaus changed rooms, not wanting his floors to be stained. The hybrids were burned and he let the others mourn them for a day before getting back to work. He then began to wonder how he should go about Y/n. Clearly she didn't want to be on his side, however he also remembered how she had behaved on the night of homecoming. She had started off being revolted but for a good few minutes she completely forgot what he was. Deep down she was still a just a girl and he could use that to his advantage.

Klaus decided he would try to push her buttons a little. He knew that she had been apart of the reason that Damon and Mikael didn't kill him, this fact made him curious. She didn't want him dead? Or she did but for some reason she needed him alive? He wasn't sure but whatever the reason, she didn't show any warning signs that she was planning his murder. Besides, she wouldn't have sent him his hybrids like that, proof of what she was, if she planned to use it against him. She was smarter than that, he was sure.

He barely slept as he thought of every possibility. He had so many questions that would never be answered and so many theories that would never be proved.

Meanwhile Y/n was sat at her desk, a book in front of her that she had filled out herself. The title?:Niklaus Mikaelson.

She stayed up all night making sure she studied all of his silly little tricks. She found any connections to witches he still had, she needed to make sure he had nobody powerful beside him. She knew that the rest of the originals would be walking around town soon enough and she couldn't have them in contact with witches as well. The whole damn town would be up in flames.

So she set out early, around half 3 in the morning. She sped to get to the desired states, knife in hand and gun hidden just incase she couldn't get close.

Y/n was gone for over week killing off the closest of Klaus's alliances. By the time she returned, Klaus had Tyler bite Caroline and Elena was missing. Damon rang Y/n in a state, telling her that Stefan had her and was threatening to throw her off Wickery bridge.

Y/n had just gotten into town and pulled her car over when she spotted Stefan's car screeching to a stop. Elena's cries could be heard and Stefan's yelling.

Y/n ran over, opening the car door and pulling Elena out into a hug. Elena sobbed into her chest hysterically while Stefan slammed his own door shut.

"Put her back in the car" he demanded, his eyes still void of any emotion. Y/n went to scream at him but Elena was already there "how could you? My parents died on that bridge- I almost died...you know that...you saved me" she whimpered, holding onto Y/n's sleeve like a little child.

Stefan tried to make the argument that this was the only way to get at Klaus. That he had the upper hand and that he wasn't actually going to drive off the bridge but Elena wasn't budging. She begged to know what would have happened if Klaus didn't give in but Stefan didn’t entertain the idea. After letting Elena stand her own for a moment and seeing Stefan so carelessly regard her life, Y/n snapped.

"Elena get in my car" she instructed and Elena fell quiet. She hesitated for a second, but after taking in the expression on her face and knew it was best not to argue. Obediently, she walked to Y/n's car and sat in the passenger seat. She could see Y/n's phone and so rang Damon, warning him that Stefan may turn up bloody and bruised and also crying down the phone over what happened.

She tried her best not to look up when she could hear the muffled yelling and fighting from in from outside.

Y/n had Stefan on his knees, bleeding from the head and stomach, a hand of his 'hero' hair in her grip as she dragged his face up and leant down "Give Klaus those fucking coffins back or I swear to fuck that I will help him destroy you" she threatened but he shook his head with laboured breathing.

"I won't let him win" he panted and she smacked him across the face making his head whip to the side before back to her

"how blind are you Stefan? If this is how you're behaving then he's already won." she whispered, holding his chin tightly. She scoffed lightly when he wouldn't look and her "you're fucking pathetic" she told him. "If you think for one moment that I'm going to let you petrify Elena, torture everyone around you just for some stupid revenge fantasy-"

"He ruined my life, Y/n! He's already destroyed me and I want to watch him hurt" he growled

"why?" she questioned, knowingly

"Because I'm fucking angry Y/n!" he stated and a small smile quirked at her lips. She could work with Stefan if he felt something, his humanity was trying to come back.

"Then you care too" she whispered "you're just not letting yourself feel everything"

"I can't Y/n" he uttered, his eyes watering "If i let myself feel everything- everything I've done...I can't survive that"

"You deserve to feel the pain Stefan. Look around...you need to feel the hurt so that you can move past it." she told him and he looked down. "I give you until tomorrow night to give in before I'm forced to handle this my way" she muttered before placing her hands at his jaw and snapping his neck to the side.

She got into the car and drove Elena and herself to Caroline's. Klaus was just coming out of her house making Elena lower in her seat while Y/n got out the car.

Klaus glanced her up and down, noting the blood she had splattered all over her clothes and the teary doppelgänger in the car. "Caroline's been healed" he told her calmly, keeping his distance.

"I'll be changing the ownership of that house so you can't get in" she warned and he chuckled, watching as she grabbed a white birthday bag from her boot and walking towards Carolines.

He watched her for a moment as she opened the front door, he listened as she gave Caroline a hug and her birthday present before leaving shortly with the promise of seeing her tomorrow. His eyes locked back on hers as soon as she stepped outside

"what?" she barked and he smirked

"nothing, nothing" he claimed and she sighed "I was just wondering whose blood-"

"Stefan's but don't worry, I didn't kill your boyfriend" she mumbled, heading back to her car

"He's not- oh for gods sake" he muttered, following her "Where is he?"

"Hopefully thinking his time over" she opened her door and looked at him once more "You should have you coffins within 48 hours, if you don't...come find me" she told him for sitting down and closing her door. He watched in interest as she pulled out of the drive and Elena began to whisper to her.

Once they got home Y/n told Elena of her and Stefan's conversation and how she hoped that this would bring the Stefan they knew back. Elena looked at Y/n with a soft look

"You think...he could be something less than a monster?" she asked quietly and Y/n swallowed thickly.

"I think...I think he doesn't want to be a monster" she whispered "I- he wasn't always a monster...so maybe he could...I don't know, like, be better?" she mumbled, confused with the situation herself. "But that doesn't mean I like him, or that you should ever feel like you have to forgive him." she told her and Elena nodded.

"I don't think I can... not for a while" she whispered and Y/n nodded

"That's probably a good thing" she smiled weakly and the two sat for a moment before disappearing to their own rooms in an attempt to get over this day.

Thankfully, with an extra shove from Damon, Stefan came to and agreed to make a truce with Klaus. So they decided to give all the coffins back, however before leaving them in Klaus's living room, they undaggered every last Mikaelson. Except of course, the one which was closed but Y/n had witches on the phone to figure out how to open it already.

It took the help of a lot of Bennet witches, dead and alive, they even had to locate Bonnies mother. Surprisingly there was no sight of Klaus or his family for the few days it took them of draining the coffins magic until they were sure that the seal was broken. Y/n had firm words with Abby and made sure to comfort Bonnie as well as she knew how to.

And then they waited.

Unbeknownst to them, the Mikaelson house was practically a war zone. Klaus had been enduring a series of well deserved torture from each of his siblings, screaming empty threats and promises at them until they temporarily killed him in some of the most painful ways they knew how to shut him up.

Until each of them was silence by the mere presence of their supposed-to-be-dead mother. She claimed the house as her own in a matter of seconds and had her children on a tight leash.

They cleaned up and hid in their rooms, confused, afraid and somewhat hopeful.

Another day went by before Esther decided they needed something special to celebrate their reunion, a ball. She also demanded that they try to find dates. Niklaus especially.

Esther was a clever women, a crafty bitch of a witch. Over her last few years of being on the other side she had kept an eye on Y/n. She had spotted her, seen her potential and invested herself into it. Esther had also happened to see the homecoming, she knew that her son's interest had been captured. She knew how easily Klaus would soften just from a girl being kind to him for a few moments. Whether he liked it or not, Y/n had now taken a place in his mind. Esther also believed that despite Y/n somewhat befriending a couple vampires that her hatred would outweigh any bond she seemingly built and that if she could get her to the ball and spoke to her then she would be of even more use.

And, as expected, Klaus went to the Gilberts house. He had an invitation in one hand and a beautiful ballgown wrapped up in the other. For some reason he had a weird feeling in his stomach and his head ached. He gave a few hesitant knocks to the door and stepped back. He took a breath, fully prepared to be hit and told to fuck off and die.

He did not expect a half asleep Y/n to open the door, her eyes squinted to block the sun, her hair big and fluffy and her face bare of any makeup. Her brows scrunched together when she saw Klaus and she cleared her throat

"Yes?" she asked, trying to sound more assertive but the oversized jumper and sleepy eyes made it far too difficult to take her seriously. He could feel his face twitch to a smile but he tilted his head down to hide it. He shook his head subtly to himself before looking ack to her eyes and opening his mouth to get some words out. Instead, he just ended up staring at her, unable to form the sentence he wanted making her wipe her eyes and wake up more to pay attention.

Her eyes dropped to the gifts in his hands and his awkward, nervous behaviour. "Oh dear" she muttered and his face flushed, was she going to say no before he even asked? With a sigh and an eye roll she reached her hands out and took both items from him, placing the box inside by the door and tearing the envelope over. Klaus watched with wide eyes as she read both the formal invitation and Klaus's personal message where he asked her for a dance. She doubled checked that times before glancing up at him.

"See you at seven" she whispered with a nod before closing the door. He stood there for another minute before turning around and heading home, unsure on what he was supposed to do now.

Meanwhile Y/n walked into the kitchen where the Salvatores, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie and Matt all sat looking to her expectantly. She held up her invitation and in return they each held up theirs.

"Alright so, just so we're all on the same level-" Caroline began, leaning forward in her seat "some guy named Kol has invited me, Elijah invited Bonnie, Rebekah wants Matt and now Klaus has asked Y/n!?" her voice progressively grew louder and higher. Damon and Stefan sighed before Elena spoke

"Yeah.. and uh... Esther, their mother, wants to speak to me...privately" she mumbled and everyone went quiet for a second.

"So do we...go?" Bonnie asked and they all murmured quietly.

"I mean...free drinks and possibly food? Do they do food at dances or do I have to eat before I go?" Y/n asked tiredly and Caroline shook her head

"No no, you'll look bloated if you eat beforehand" She muttered and Damon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right" Y/n whispered.

"Screw it, we should go" Elena decided and reluctantly everyone came to an agreement.

The girls would all go to Caroline's to get ready and meet the guys there.

Once they had done each others hair and makeup, made sure they all felt right and ready. They all stayed in Bonnie's car for a little while outside of the Mikaelson mansion

"Something bad is going down tonight" Y/n murmured and Elena sighed.

"We have to face it" she whispered

"Or we get shit faced and forget whatever goes down?" Y/n offered and Bonnie giggled while Caroline placed her hand over her face before opening the door

"come on, lets get" she called and they groaned as they piled out and maid their way inside.

Y/n let them filter out to the Salvatores and their dates while she swiftly weaved her way toward the sweet scent of alcohol. For once she didn't sense Klaus watching her as she downed four flutes of champagne in the space of 60 seconds, letting it rush straight to her head and smiling to herself.

With a quiet chuckle Klaus made his way over, standing just behind her and to her side as he cleared his throat "Y/n?" he called and she whipped round

"Klaus" she greeted and he smirked

"Enjoying the beverages?" he teased lightly

"Uh honestly no, it's rather disgusting but if you drink it fast enough then you don't really taste it" she grinned and he raised a brow

"Well...that's not what I was expecting...then again you've been very unpredictable today...are you feeling alright, love?" He whispered the last bit as though it were a serious matter and she rolled her eyes once more.

"Well everyone else got an invite, I was glad not to be the only one" she told him and he hummed

"I see" he stated, looking her over for a moment before taking a breath and smiling "you look stunning, sweetheart" he complimented and she glanced away from his gaze.

Y/n wasn't the relationship type. She wasn't ever really given compliments, she was rude to most people especially supernaturals and lets face it they covered half the town. The occasions she did attract attention it was because she 'looked hot' or 'sexy' which only pissed her off more and made her avoid any kind of revealing or tight clothes when since the 9th grade. So she didn't really think Klaus meant anything by those words, and she didn't want him or anyone to say things like that if it didn't mean anything.

So she looked past him and ignored the compliment, instead glancing around to spot everyone. "So do you have to like announce the dances or do you just go whenever?" she asked and he tilted his head

"I thought this town had dances all the time, you've never been to one?" he questioned, and she shook her head

"Elena dressed up and did the dances with mom. I went to Aug- I went hunting with dad" she answered and he nodded

"Hunting..." he trailed despite knowing the answer

"Vampires"

"Vampires" he repeated. "When exactly did you start hunting vampires?" he asked curiously and she shrugged.

"I don't really know...I was maybe six or something like that when I saw one and it soon after my dad was filling my head with knowledge on them" she explained and he frowned a little but before he could comment Esther was tapping her glass and encouraging her children to come together so should properly announce the occasion.

Esther switched her gaze between the Gilbert sisters and the Bennet witch. She couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement, everything was going her way. So she stood proudly for a moment as she watched her children dance what she assumed to be their last nights away.

Klaus gently placed his hand on her waist, watching her shift and take a breath before taking his hand. She didn't like to touch him, he could tell by the look in her eyes but she didn't push him away, she still put her hands on him with no intention of harm and that was enough to make Klaus smile.

Y/n tried to forget that he was a psychotic thousand year old vampire/werewolf hybrid just for a moment but it was more difficult this time. The music was slow, unlike the homecoming, and there was a specific routine which she was already struggling to follow which meant he couldn't decide to start spinning her around unless she wanted even more eyes on her and he knew for a fact that she didn't. Klaus could feel how tense she was, her eyes never landed on him and when he tried to compliment her she only looked more uncomfortable.

He sighed to himself and watched her for a short moment. She truly did look elegant that night, like a princess. The dress fit her like a glove and for once he was able to see the soft curves of her body though he knew not to comment on that. He wasn't really sure if he was allowed to comment on anything. She was gorgeous, the makeup on her face only emphasised the features he had already liked on her, like her eyes and her lips. But at the same time he wanted to see her like he did early that day again, when she was drowsy and messy. He liked that she didn't cover up every tiny little mark on her skin or feel that she had to sit and style her hair each morning, though he was still fond of how it had been done for this evening. He had so much he was thinking but he couldn't find a way to say any of it to her. Not when she looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here.

Reluctantly he tried to catch her eye "Love?" he whispered and she glanced to him "can I show you something?" he asked and she nodded, anything would be better than pretending to enjoy any part of that.

So he guided her upstairs, to his art room. She was skeptical but he expected her to be as such. Still, he took her inside and let her look around. His eyes followed her, waiting to see if her expression or body language would give away any of her thoughts or opinions.

Curiously she dug through his sketches, seemingly looking for something specific. He came beside her and placed his hand on top of hers "What are you searching for?" he asked quietly and she looked up at him for a moment. He tilted his head and gave a gentle smile to try and show he bared no harm and she hesitantly told him

"The sun and moon curse...you made drawings right? On scrolls and stuff?" she questioned and he smiled

"I did yes" he confirmed and took her had without thinking, bringing her to his room where he then let her go and began digging under his bed making her laugh. He remerged a moment later with a box, he tossed the lid onto his bed and pulled out a bunch of old, tattered pieces of paper. He flipped through them before bringing a few over to her, letting her hold them and study them with genuine interest. He explained what different parts meant and found himself with a hand on her shoulder as he pointed to different sections.

"Just to be a hybrid?" she questioned and he shook his head

"I don't care that I'm half and half, if anything it's only made things more difficult. I just wanted to feel whole." he told her, glancing to find her fully turned to him and listening making him sit down on the edge of his bed and her to follow suit, much to his surprise, before he continued. "When my mother suppressed my werewolf side, it quite literally felt like part of me was locked deep inside me and begging to be set free. I walked this earth for a thousand years, never feeling quite like myself...though I suppose I don't really know who I am anymore. In some ways your mindset is correct, vampirism changes a person. But it was not vampirism that made me a monster... it was my mother and my...and Mikael. I'm sure you know of plenty humans that you and the rest of the world would consider a beast. If they lived as long as I have, even without the urge to drink blood, they would become a horrible creature no matter their species."

She contemplated his words for some time in silence and he let her. She knew he was right. Anyone would go mad if they had been though the masses that he had and had to keep going that that amount of time. Y/n didn't like that there were so many different ways to think about things. She wished that it was as simple as 'all vampires are evil' but it would never be that way.

She looked at him for a minute or so, it was so odd how someone so vicious could look like an angel. She always told herself it was a disguise but really it was proof of who they used to be. Their eyes especially, they held so much. Especially his, she could see the pain and the sadness, the anger and the betrayal, fear and paranoia, but she could also see that little flicker of warmth. Part of her wished that she could go back and never of left her fathers office, she shouldn't have gone near those vampires. She wished she could help Klaus relight that little spark inside him but she just didn't think she could. Her hatred was deep rooted, she had been and secretly still did torture and experiment on vampires. She had been stealing blood samples from her supernatural friends and giving it to Augustine. For years Y/n assumed that she was doing the right thing, protecting her own, but now she worried that she had been behaving almost as badly as the vampires themselves.

She hesitated slightly but Klaus still saw it, he could see a lot going on in her head and let it settle before speaking again.

"You can keep the aztec sketches" he told her and she blinked at him

"Oh- no that's okay" she smiled and handed them back to him but he pulled his hands away

"I don't know why you wanted to see them but I'm glad that you did and that you spoke to me...listened and what have you. I didn't really think you would come tonight and so I want you to have them as a thank you of sorts?" he told her and she smiled softly

"Can I ask...why would you want me to be here tonight? I mean you have a lot of options, less complicated ones. I don't know what you thought tonight would become but surely you didn't think that anything more could become of this right?" she asked and he shrugged softly

"Maybe one day" he offered but she shook her head

"I will never be a vampire" she reminds "and I don't think I could ever truly have feelings for a vampire and even if I did, what would be the point if I just grew old and you didn't?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon sweetheart" he whispered.

They both sat quietly for a moment before a thud and a crack could be heard. They both let out a huff before Y/n groaned "Fucking Salvatores"

Klaus let out a laugh and stood up, offering a hand to Y/n and pulling her up "I'm certain a Mikaelson will have involvement too" he smiled and she tutted

"Oh what ever will we do" she whispered as they made their way back downstairs, finding Kol on the floor and Damon standing over him. She gave Klaus a look to which he smiled knowingly as she followed Damon to his car, before turning to deal with his own family.

They were both to busy to realise the glare that Esther had on her face. She had only heard the last few exchanges of their conversation and then that look at each other. She expected Klaus to fall fast but Y/n was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to help kill Klaus. Still, Esther held onto a small amount of hope that Y/n wasn't completely taken yet and would at least stay out of the way when she eliminated the vampire race.

That night everyone seemed to go to sleep with a bucket load full of thoughts swimming around their minds. Some more dreamy and others leaning more towards nightmares. It was unknown which ones would come true.

(There shall be a part 3, I just didn’t want it to be a drag to read all in one go)

[vexic929]

Earth-2 Etude

Chapter 1

Warnings: none

Chapter 2: link

The metal doors to Iron Heights opened with a loud, discordant clang that made Hartley Rathaway wish he'd turned his hearing aids off as he set his personal belongings in a basket and removing his tie pin before stepping through the metal detector. It beeped - an equally annoying noise, in Hartley's opinion - and the corrections officer waved him through, handing him a clipboard to sign.

"You get two hours with him, CSI. Anything happens, you press this." The man thrust a small, round device attached to a lanyard at Hartley. "This panic button will let every officer know to come get you. Bastard wants parole, though, so you probably won't need to use it."

That wasn't particularly reassuring but Hartley nodded anyway. "I need my tablet back."

The man frowned and picked it up out of the basket, grumbling under his breath as he handed it over. Hartley tucked it under his arm and adjusted his blazer, smoothing it unnecessarily to calm his growing nerves.

"Singh's in room twelve. Guard'll show you the way." The officer jerked his head toward the hall.

Hartley offered a curt nod and followed the appointed guard, his shoes clicking against the polished concrete floor. The sound echoed faintly, a lonely kind of rhythm that made his chest tighten with anxiety. A few of the inmates leered at him as he passed, one or two shouting vulgar comments. God, this place was vile, why the hell did it have to be Hartley on the job?

Room twelve loomed at the end of the corridor, its number a stark black against the gray. The corrections officer accompanying him rapped twice on the door. "Singh," he announced, his voice gruff, "you've got a visitor."

The door swung open, revealing a stark, utilitarian space. At the center sat David Singh, the infamous mob boss, leaning casually back in his chair, thumbing through a paperback novel. His orange prison jumpsuit was undone to the waist, revealing the white tank top beneath that clung to his broad chest. His dark eyes locked onto Hartley the moment he stepped inside, their intensity almost physical, pinning him in place. For a fraction of a second, Hartley forgot how to breathe.

Singh raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell are you?"

Hartley straightened, his chin lifting slightly. "Hartley Rathaway, CCPD." His tone was clipped, professional. He wasn't about to let Singh see how much this encounter unnerved him. "I'm here to discuss one of your properties."

Singh's lips curved into a slow, mocking smile. "My properties? I don't have any of those anymore, remember? Confiscated, seized, sold - what do you cops call it? Civil asset forfeiture?"

Hartley ignored him, sitting across from him and tapping his tablet to pull up the files he'd prepared. "One of your old hideouts is in use again. We believe the Darbinyan crime family has taken over the location. I need you to provide the layout - anything that isn't on the blueprints."

Singh leaned forward, resting his elbows on the metal table and his chin on one hand, his gaze slow and deliberate as it swept over Hartley from head to toe. The mob boss's voice, rich and low and laced with amusement, broke the silence after several uncomfortably long moments. "So, they sent me the scrawny one."

Hartley bristled, feeling a bit like he was being sized up to be eaten. "You refused everyone else."

Singh snorted and leaned back again. "Right. Wasn't about to talk to Captain West or her lap dog."

"Or any other officer, according to the warden." Hartley added, crossing his arms, trying to look equally as collected and casual.

Singh chuckled, low and rich, his dark eyes locking with Hartley's. "You're awfully bold for a man who looks like a strong breeze might blow him over."

"You're awfully vexing for a man who supposedly wants parole." Hartley countered.

Singh's gaze stayed locked on Hartley, unrelenting and far too self-assured. "Vexing? Fancy word. You always talk like you've got something to prove, Mr. Rathaway?"

Hartley adjusted his glasses, refusing to rise to the bait. "I don't need to prove anything to you, Mr. Singh. I'm here because the captain thought your knowledge might actually be useful. Clearly, she was being optimistic." His tone was clipped, every syllable calculated to maintain control of the conversation.

Singh rolled his eyes. "You're here for information about my old hideout. A place I haven't set foot in for over a year. Tell me, Rathaway, what makes you think I care if the Darbinyans are squatting there now?"

"You have a personal history with them, don't you?"

Singh's eyes darkened, his fingers flexing against the steel table, though his gaze never left Hartley's. "Personal history," he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "You could say that."

Hartley felt the atmosphere shift and briefly wondered if he'd have to use the panic button. He pushed away the thought and dropped his gaze to his tablet, his fingers dancing over the screen in precise movements. "We don't have time for cryptic remarks. If you're going to help, start talking. If not, I'll be sure to let Captain West know this was a waste of her time and mine."

Singh shifted in his chair, his tank top slipping slightly with the motion, revealing a scar just below his collarbone. It drew Hartley's attention momentarily, his sharp mind calculating the possible stories behind it before he forced himself to focus again. He was here for the Darbinyan family's operations, not Singh's mysterious past.

A moment of silence more and Hartley sighed, pushing his chair back and standing to leave. "Fine. I'll let the parole board know you're not interested."

"Sit back down."

The command wasn't loud but it carried a resonance that stopped Hartley dead mid-step. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to realize he'd followed an order from a mob boss. He felt the tips of his ears flush with frustration and embarrassment.

"How dare you-" Hartley started but Singh interrupted him.

"Sit."

Hartley remained standing, placing his tablet and hands flat on the table as he leaned forward, glaring at the other man. "If you have something useful to say, say it. Otherwise, this is over."

The corner of Singh's mouth twitched upward and, for a heartbeat, Hartley thought he might laugh in his face. Instead, Singh leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight, arms crossing over his broad chest as he shook his head, looking amused.

"Come back next week. I'll have something to say then."

"I'm not playing this game, Singh." Hartley snapped but David didn't so much as flinch.

"You want information, you'll come back. See you next week, Mr. Rathaway."

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

God bless you too! Happy Halloween to you too! :)

1: on Halloween in the past, have they ever wear matching outfits?

2: I know that they are scared of horror movies, but what about games? I can see them playing fnaf and maybe poppy’s playtime. Also, been playing the new Alan Wake 2 that just came out and it’s really scary, I can see the duo wearing their pants playing this game.

3: how did they get their teddy bears? Super bear for Chris and batbear for Jake.

4: would they ever get tattoos?

5: is Jake in a sports league at school or outside of school? I can see him in basketball making the winning score by slam dunking the ball last second or throwing it Across the court.

6: what’s Chris relationship with your version of “the flamebird owner?” (Forgot her name)

Thanks so much friend @gothicghost2000 It’s very appreciated :-D

1. Well, actually they have. Primarily once upon a time, they were both blue Crewmates from Among Us that had Mini Crewmates besides them. They won that year’s Costume Contest, barely beating out Lian who was Anna from Frozen

2. It really depends on what type of horror game they’re playing at that moment. While they’re relatively sensitive to jump scares, Chris and Jake own nearly every single FNAF game and on some occasions, tried out the 20/20/20/20 setting on each of them. Key word being ‘tried’ as they haven’t reached Night 5 on that setting. Another game that makes their spines chill but they’ll play nonetheless would be Dead Space I and II as it offers plenty of atmosphere and action to keep them going. As for Alan Wake, that scenario would seem likely but thankfully the two are able still play it (probably the fact the Duo hold it in until the pause button is pressed and then they rush to the bathroom helps)

3. Chris was given SuperBear during his first Birthday after being adopted by the Kents, stitched up together by Grandma Martha. Originally she had in mind that Chris and Jon would share SuperBear together but Jon was okay with Chris having the plushie to himself as he’s got over toys to more than make up for it. As for BatBear, that was made by Alfred originally as a present for Mar’i on e her first birthday, to compliment with her other plushie which was previously owned by Dick before he gave it to her, Peanut the Elephant. Once Jake was born, Mar’i felt it was only right that he can have BatBear while she can keep Peanut in her own then-new Big Sister sort of way. Thus are SuperBear and BatBear with their respective owners ever since then.

4. Nope. Absolutely not, Under NO Circumstances. Chris and Jake even at their most rebellious moments as teenagers have it perfectly down not to do so, less than they face the wraths of Lois and Dick. Lol

5. Jake is no doubt enrolled in Bludhaven Academy’s resident Little League team, the Nighthawks, having been already promoted to second in command of the team, only behind said team’s on court captain and of course the Coach. He’s mainly the team’s best Shooting Guard as his rather uncanny abilities to intercept the ball and score many points for his team are vital assets on the court. Already by the time he enters 5th grade, he has helped the Nighthawks make it to the Regional Championships about two times. The first time they won second place, only due to Jake breaking his ankle mid game and needing to be removed. The second time though was a solid victory, the first one in Bludhaven Academy’s history.

6. Thara and Chris are a pair of very close friends that for reasons even they can’t firmly explain to each other, they have this budding and passionate feeling from inside of them whenever they’re close. They both come to each other’s help in case of any local troublemakers and pranksters targeting them and they’re commonly placed into groups during class projects. These interactions, in sprite of themselves, have brought Chris and Thara closer together and find common grounds with each other on many things from the mundane like their thoughts on their teachers to the interpersonal including Chris being emotionally supportive to Thara during moments of her family history prior to moving to Earth getting to her. The fact the two are also apprentices of Dick and Bette Kane respectively further solidifies it.

[sherrifdoggo]

The Gramophone

or the more widely used term in the us, the Phonograph.

Or Record Player (though that's an anachronistic term from the 40's)

you may have seen it in the last Jessie post in the background and asked yourself:

"Hey, is that music actually playing from that or is that just something you were listening to in the background?"

The answer is yes!, that is in fact being played from the gramophone itself thanks to some silly map logic that i'll dive into here while i make some more substantial additions to the map.

Around the map you'll find some records like the ones pictured above. Each one is unique and is labeled after the song that it contains (Of course, which the names of brands changed because this isn't the actual 1930's it's the magic 1930's, also yeah forgot to mention that, might talk about it at a further point).

After finding one of these, bring them over to your nearest Speakeasy and you'll be treated to some music once you slap it in!

Demonstration:

Let's quickly get how the logic works out of they way quickly for those interested.

Above me is an identified hammer view of the logic, let's take it step by step real quick.

Step 1: Record is inserted into trigger space, multiple triggers are in that space but only one is looking for that specific record. Record space is intentionally small to avoid multiple records playing at once.

Step 2: All triggers are disabled before more records can be inserted and the song starter relay is triggered.

Step 3: Record prop is deleted and a fake record is put in the Gramophone with it's skin changed to that of the record inserted, it plays a little animation and begins to run further song logic

Step 4: Animation is done and song begins to play, 5 seconds later the stop button is spawned above the record. Logic is added to it through addoutput to stop the current song being played.

As for stopping the song, you press E on the record after the 5 second cooldown and viola! it respawns next to the gramophone.

You may have also spotted this Beautiful J. D. Fenton Standing Piano on the stage as well. It may look like it's seen better days, but it still plays just as true.

I can't put another video on here due to having already blown the demonstration budget above, but rest assured that you can in fact actually play it (kind of)

When you interact with the piano it will play one note of a little song from a previous map I worked on, but never finished. Set in the same little weird universe btw. Just set in the present, not the 30's.

Yes that also means you can quickly spam the keys to ruin the song, because i thought that would be funny to let the player do.

[arcade-project-wr]

Text Issue

I logged onto my Computer at my house to start working on my Game and for some reason this happened.

However something interesting Continue isn't like this. This is probably because it is always the same across every single question.

I changed the Text Colour Black because I wanted that colour any ways so it would contrast with the Choice Button.

The Text was awfully big so I decided to select each Text Box and in Details

I searched up Size and Under Appearance and Under Font then in Size decreased it from 30 to 10.

This however also resulted in the Button's Size decreasing

However I thought to make sure they were the correct size again I would type in one of the Text's a long sentence to make multiple layers of words so the height of the Buttons would also increase. And not to my surprise this happened.

The Text not only went over the Button limit and the Vertical Box limit but also the whole Canvas. This is because there is no Wrapping for it as it is set to 0.0 and in Unreal 0.0=Infinity. Obviously it doesn't take Einstein to figure out that I don't want my Text to be off the screen, so I got to set up some Wrapping. In Details you search up Wrapping and then in Wrap Text At I put in 10.0

Then..

this happened. Now it Wraps too Early making its Height way too High and its Length way too short. So with some testing and trialling with the Numbers I got to.. wait hang on

No matter what I changed it to it would always be like this. At this point my only option was that I had to have 0.0 Wrapping and just keep my answers short.

I tried to fix the Text being all [A] by going into ClimateQuiz_Widget and selecting out of Variables Question Structure Question

Then went to Default Value and typed up 1+1 and other numbers as Answers.

Then I looked and saw there was no way to add another Questions so I looked at one of my blog post. Then I realised I was meant to do this in ClimateQuiz_HUD so I changed them back to what the Text Blocks say when I renamed them to.

Now in ClimateQuiz_HUD these are the Questions I have with the different Answers

There was another problem where the First Question wouldn't work so for simplicity both Questions will be 1+1 with the First Question's Answers will be 1, 2, 3, 4. Then the Second Question's Answers will be 2, 4, 3, 1 to make sure I know the difference.

It knows what I'm typing but it isn't showing it.

I added a High Score to the Score system but because this game is never going to need that anyways, and even if by some miracle it gets completed there is no way I will be able to make this High Score System work so I'm going to remove it.

In Score Card the Widget

Simply all I need to do is select it

And pressing <- Backspace, then poof its gone. Now in its Event Graph I just deleted the Code for it

And while I was still in here I decide to Change some things that I wanted to.

First my Restart Button is really small

So to change this I selected the Button and searched up Size, then Under Appearance then under Style then Normal (woah its 2025 you can't say that) then Image Size values.

And no matter what I set them as it didn't change anything it stayed the same size, so instead I simply dragged the Corners and made the Button bigger Manually

Then increased the Text by searching Size and changing the number to 60

Then changed the Font to the Minecraft one.

Then for my "you scored : 00" Text I changed it to "You Scored : 00" because I love my CAPS. But there is a line of Code that uses the Sentence "you scored :". This is in ClimateQuiz_HUD's Event Graph in Append I just needed to change the Text.

While testing I kept selecting different answers on the same question think that I had moved on. (This was partly due to the Glitched Text) and I forgot that I had to click Continue. To fix this I searched up Color and Opacity but it didn't work so I went to my Scorecard to check and it was actually Background Color and so I choose a Lime Green.

[chilling-seavey]

Little Bit of Luck (gr63)

↳ A/N Seems I have had the audacity to focus too much on my Lando AU that I forgot my own brand as Official George Russell Writer™. Please take this lil oneshot as my apology <3

↳ Summary: You fly to Bahrain to surprise George before the first race of the season, giving him a bit of good luck in his driver's room before lights out.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 4.8k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, borderline exhibitionism kind of?, dirty talk, spanking, face slapping, hair pulling, light degradation, light dumbification, choking, restraining with hands, grinding, just a fuck ton of dry humping tbh

The sleek monochromatic interior of the Mercedes motorhome welcomed you, the faint accented glow of the LED lights across the ceiling warming the modest space. Nestled precisely in the paddock in Bahrain, it was freshly constructed and ready for the start of a brand new Formula 1 season. Pre-season testing had just concluded and everyone was ramping up for the first race of the calendar as the sun set over the desert landscape. With only a matter of time before pre-race warmups and preparations were set to begin, you had been able to sneak into the motorhome with assistance from some of the Mercedes team members undetected in perfect time to surprise your boyfriend. 

You had said goodbye two weeks prior when he first flew out to Bahrain, knowing that you couldn’t join him since you had work and other responsibilities back home as well as the overarching fact that you didn’t want to get in his way. All that being said, you knew you couldn’t miss his first race of the season. 

With help from some of the team members pulling strings, you were able to make it to the circuit, into the paddock, and into the motorhome without speculation from the crowds of fans outside. Alone in George’s drivers room, you took your time exploring the space slowly; dragging your finger over the spotless tabletops and rifling through the mini fridge and pressing some of the buttons to see how the LED lights changed colours. You couldn’t wait to see his face when he would inevitably find you in his room, waiting for him. 

Staring up at the ceiling, you held your finger against one of the buttons on the wall control panel, watching how it changed the lights to a warm white and blue and made the narrow living space look like it was underwater. With the blinds closed over the narrow window, the crowds that bustled through the paddock weren’t privy to the way you made yourself at home. 

Your phone screen lit up from where you had rested it on the laminate countertop and you picked it up to read the message from one of the mechanics. 

-Prep done. He’s headed back to his room to get changed.

Before you could reply, you could hear footsteps in the hallway and muffled voices drawing closer, giving you only a few mere seconds to arrange yourself. You leaned back against the counter casually as if you were meant to be right there and when the door opened, you swore your heart skipped a beat in excitement. 

The door opened and, distracted in his conversation with his teammate, George lingered in the doorway for a moment, leaving you impatient for him to turn around and finally get him all to yourself again. When he finally parted ways from his conversation and made a move to enter his drivers room fully, you had to lick away your beaming smile to keep it from taking up your entire face. 

George had stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, his shoes scuffing on the vinyl floor with his familiar body donning a tight short-sleeve Mercedes shirt and sinful white shorts that didn’t leave much up to the imagination. He took a few seconds to process who was standing in the middle of his driver's room when he wasn’t expecting a visitor, but then he broke into a smile when he realized it was you and you literally couldn’t hold back your own beaming grin anymore. 

“Baby!” he greeted excitedly, naturally letting his arms fall open as you hurried across the small space to throw yourself into his embrace. 

“My love.” you gushed, holding onto him snugly and you ducked your face into his neck, just to have him close after a long two weeks without him. He smelt faintly of his aftershave and the lingering hints of gasoline from the garage and his busy race day prep that had you breathing him in greedily. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked with his voice full of glee as his hands rubbed your back lovingly. 

“Couldn’t miss the first race of the season.” you said, scratching your fingers through the back of his soft brown hair as you pulled away from his neck. 

His lips found yours in an instant and he leaned into you strongly, his hands around your waist causing you to bend backwards slightly with the intensity of his chasté kiss. You giggled sweetly against his mouth and moved your hands to his cheeks to hold his lips on yours until he pulled back to stare at you again. 

“Oh, God, I love you so much.” you swooned, holding his face in your hands as you stared at each other and he walked you farther into his driver’s room, wrapped up together in giddy little grins as the door shut behind you. 

“I love you too. This is the best surprise.” he said, capturing your lips with his for a few more gentle kisses. “How long are you here for?”

“Just tonight.” you answered, sliding your fingers into the back of his hair to scratch lightly over his scalp to feel how his breath shuttered slightly at your teasing touches,“Flying back after the race. Work tomorrow.” 

George licked his lips, his eyes drifting over your face in your close proximity with your noses almost touching from how close you were, bodies pressed together in your longing embrace in the middle of his modest driver’s room. He spoke to you in a whisper, “Are we really gonna do this? Here? Right now?”

You dusted your lips over his with a soft giggle as he backed you against the edge of the counter, “Wanna? Gotta do it for good luck, y'know.”

“I didn’t pack condoms.” 

“That’s okay.” you whispered, sliding a hand down his toned back to grab his ass, “I just wanna feel you through these thin little shorts.” 

He stepped impossibly closer to you so you were trapped against his body and the counter, gasping faintly into his slightly parted mouth at the feeling of the front of his shorts pressing against yours, teasing you with what you hadn’t realized what you had craved so badly. George’s deep chuckle at your shuttering breath fell against your lips and you kissed him faintly, lazily, lips barely touching. 

“How long do we have?” you asked quietly as your hand slid around the back of his neck.

“Less than an hour.” he answered just as gently, pushing against you a bit more to have you biting away your smile with a small hum of appreciation. 

With one hand on the back of his neck and your other grabbing his ass, you tugged him even closer as your lips so effortlessly locked with his. George moaned lowly into your deepening kiss, grasping onto your body as if it had been months since you had last seen each other, and his head tilted to the side slightly to comfortably push open your lips with his own. The introduction of his tongue against yours had you arching into his body hungrily as your kisses rose the lust between you and you couldn’t get enough of him. 

With eyes closed gently and cheeks dusting pink, you shared harmonious passionate kisses that were a perfect dance of lips and tongues until his private room was home to only the sounds of your eager mouths. Your hips nudged forward against his again, almost salivating at the feeling of his dick hidden underneath his thin white shorts pressing right up against your clothed clit. 

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know.” you mumbled, your words muffled by his lips. 

“Mhm?” George trailed his kisses down your neck while his hands groped your ass and forced your body to rut against his.

“Starting front row in the first race of the season.” you giggled, peering over his shoulder to the shut blinds and pristine luxurious interior that surrounded you. When he sucked a hickey into your skin, your mouth fell open with a pleasured whimper and your fingers tightened in his hair, breathing a follow-up to the LED lined ceiling of the quaint room, “Your own brand new driver’s room for you to fuck me in.” 

“Thought we weren’t fucking.” George reminded you cockily against your ear, nipping at your earlobe before he was licking right under it to make you shiver. 

“No,” you agreed shakily, “I just want you all over me. I want to climb you like a fucking tree.”

George chuckled lowly, still pulling you into those lazy grinds as you stood in front of each other and his breath seemed to start to fall shallow as quickly as yours as he whispered to you, “You’re already getting me hard.” 

“I know. I can feel it.” you bit back your smile as he lifted his head from your neck so your eyes could meet. 

“Mhm?” George started right back at you as he rubbed himself against you, urging you to naturally lift your foot from the floor with desire to feel more of that addicting friction over your layers of clothes and you wrapped your leg around his the best you could. His hand grabbed your thigh to keep it there, trapping you against the counter as he ground his hips harder into yours so you could feel how he stiffened up for you beneath his short fabric shorts and his lips found yours again. 

Your kisses picked right up where you left off as if you hadn’t even wasted a breath and you choked back your pleading moans into his mouth as your tongue pushed against his insistently. The taste of his mouth was home to you and he welcomed you in like no one else, your heads moving in meticulous unity to give yourselves the satisfaction of each other. The wet erotic smacks of your lips parting time and time again only had you gripping onto him tighter - hair and clothes - and desperate to feel all of him everywhere all at once. 

Standing in front of him, it only grew more frustrating as you weren’t getting the physical fulfillment you were craving and so you broke your kisses with a rushed, “I need these off.” 

George helped you to shove your pants down your legs and you kicked them across the floor just before his hands were on the backs of your thighs and he was housing you up onto the counter behind you. He shoved your legs apart so he could situate himself between them and you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to tug his lips back on yours, his warm hands caressing your thighs, your hips, your ass. Pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, George stood right up close so the growing tent in his little shorts could press perfectly against your panties and you literally withered into his kiss. 

Chuckling faintly, George kept up with your ungraceful kisses as your arms slung around his shoulders and he guided your legs around his waist so there was no space between you. Then, when he rolled his hips into yours to grind his stiffening cock against your pussy, you audibly moaned into his mouth. Tightening your legs around his waist, you dropped one hand onto the counter behind you so you could balance yourself to start to grind on him in return with purposeful upwards strokes of your hips. 

“Fuck me.” George breathed heavily against your cheek, your kisses momentarily halted as you let the pleasure settle around you and he watched with wide eyes as you so eagerly took control of what you wanted. His hands rested down on the countertop on either side of you and he stared at how your feminine hips ground up against his clothed body, the salmon coloured lace of your silk panties standing out against your soft skin in the moody lighting of the room. Your little whimpers and breaths only spurred him on more and you stared up at him behind long lashes and a bitten lip, raising the heat in his chest to hammer his heart against his ribcage. You drove him crazy in the best of ways.

“I can feel you still getting harder.” you chuckled breathily, fisting the front of his shirt in your hand to hold him close as you rolled your hips against his. You could see the arches and valleys of his muscle in the tight fabric of his shirt, his biceps pulling the fabric taut as he rested on his hands on either side of you. 

“Yeah?” George retorted tauntingly, “Was this all you wanted? Come all the way down here to distract me on race day by grinding your stupid little pussy on my dick?” 

You couldn’t help the bashful giggle that fell from your lips, “Yes, sir.” 

His hand slapped across your cheek in one smooth motion, the sharp sound filling the quiet room and was quickly followed by your hungry moan. You dropped your head back to face the ceiling as you fisted the front of his shirt and his hips picked up for you, grinding against your clothed pussy stronger, faster. 

“Oh my God, it feels so fucking good.” you whimpered while his hand slid around the back of your neck to pull your head up to look at him. Your gazes met and then were quickly followed by your lips, sharing sloppy tongue-led kisses as you pathetically rutted against each other on the countertop of his shiny new driver’s room. 

George moaned into your mouth as he ground against your familiar body, giving his all to you - his lust, his adrenaline, his pent-up anxiety that came with the first race after so long - and you took it all gladly. Lifting your hand from the counter again, you straightened up in front of him and wrapped your arm around him to pull him stronger against you by a snug grip to the curve of his ass, sharing filthy moans into each other’s mouths. You could feel the hard shape of his cock rubbing against your panties just how it was meant to and your heels pressed into the small of his back greedily.

“Fuck, I’m so wet.” you mumbled into your kisses, “It aches so badly.” 

“I really wanna fuck you.” George whispered. 

You set your hand flat against his chest with a smiling decline of “Mm mm.” 

“What do you mean ‘mm mm’?” George tisked, his warm breath falling against your cheek. “Why can’t I fuck you?”

“Because you’re not allowed.” you shrugged cheekily and lifted one leg back to press your foot to his stomach and ease him away from you. “I just wanna look at you.”

George stood in the middle of the small private room, no more than arms length away from you, giving you a moment to truly look at him. You had his body memorized in your mind and in your fingertips but you could still never get enough of just looking at him and admiring the beauty that was the man who was all yours. He was still fully dressed but the thin shorts he had worn to his pre-race prep were being tented by his sizeable erection he hid beneath the fabric, making the material ride up his thighs slightly so you could see the bottom hem of his underwear underneath. His legs seemed to go on forever and you licked your lips shamelessly as you eyed his hairy thighs that were hugged by his briefs.

You dragged your socked foot down his torso, feeling his abs under his shirt that was tucked into those tiny shorts and you ordered him sweetly, “Take your shirt off.” 

He did so gladly, untucking it first before pulling it over his head as if he were peeling the snug fabric from his skin before dropping it to the ground. Left half bare in front of you, George only smirked proudly under your unwavering gaze and reached down habitually to adjust his shorts over his straining boner. You smiled at him and pressed your foot between his pecs to push him backwards towards the leather couch against the opposite wall of the room. 

He flopped backwards smoothly onto the seat, legs spread and thighs on full display and he patted them as an invitation for you, “Come here, pretty girl.”

You licked away your smile and hopped off the counter, joining him on the couch in a few smooth steps to straddle his lap eagerly. George’s hands gravitated to your hips to guide you in as you dipped down to capture his lips with yours again and you caressed his bare shoulders contently as your kisses easily turned deeper. He slapped his palm down against your ass to send the sharp sound echoing around the small room and you naturally bucked into him at the impact with a tight hum, making him spank you again. 

With your lips hung up on his, he started to blindly unbutton your blouse without breaking your kiss and you moved with him wordlessly to drop your shirt to the ground with his. You were left in your bra that matched the salmon coloured panties you were nearly soaking through on his lap and George finally pulled away from your kiss to get a look at you. His hands groped your breasts over the lacy cups of your bra while you shuffled closer to him on your knees that straddled his lap so you could position yourself right over his dick. 

“You’re so fucking sexy.” George exhaled. 

You swooped in to kiss him once, twice, and then as his hands traveled down the curve of your waist, you invited him quietly, “Feel how soaked my panties are for you.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice and he gladly dropped a hand down to slide it between your parted legs, staring into your eyes as his fingertips teased over the sopping wet silk fabric that was nestled over your warm pussy. His deep groan had you nuzzling your face in his neck to kiss over his soft skin and right up under his ear as he rubbed his fingers slowly back and forth over your clothed cunt. But when he started to slip his fingers underneath the fabric, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

“Darling-” he huffed. 

You interrupted him with a strong kiss and he moaned into it, letting you hold onto his wrist as you settled yourself down on his lap properly with his dick pressed up between your legs. The two of you shared soft breaths between slow kisses and when you let go of his wrist, his hands took to your waist to greedily pull you over his lap for more of that blessed friction. 

You leaned down to rest against his chest with your arms around his shoulders and you let your kisses lead your hips in their rhythmic circular grinds against him, the feeling of his hard cock pressed right up against your clit made you salivate, only turning your kisses deeper and hungrier. George had his feet flat on the vinyl floor to hold a sturdy spot for you to sit and grind on him like that as you pulled yourself back and forth over his lap slowly, tauntingly, with his hands tight on your hips. 

He rubbed his hand up your back and then down again and then slapped his hand hard against your ass, ordering between kisses, “Gimme more, baby.”

You giggled sweetly against his lips as you strengthened the swirls of your hips down on him in precise circles and rubbed against the front of his thin shorts. Your kisses were growing off-centered and sloppier as the seconds went by as your focus moved from his lips to the pleasure that the friction of your clothed bodies brought. The little whimpers that fell from your lips into his were almost uncontrollable and he swallowed them up gladly, guiding your motions with his hands gripping your hips. 

When kissing got too hard, you pulled away from his lips and ducked your face in his neck with a trembling, “Fuck, sir.”

“Good girl.” George praised against your ear, “You wanna make yourself cum on sir’s lap?”

“God, yeah.” you choked out, clinging onto him tighter as your hips moved faster on him. “Ohh my fucking God.”

George spanked you again, “Good girl. Just like that, baby, you’re doing so fucking good.” 

“Shit, it feels so good.” you whimpered as you pushed yourself up straighter on his lap to anchor your hands against his bare chest, all without halting your strokes. You tossed your hair over one shoulder and stared down at him as your hips did all the work in quick flicks down on his lap, watching how his dilated blue eyes stared back at you with an indescribable lust. Your nose scrunched up in pleasure and you moaned contently for him, digging your nails into his chest every so slightly. 

“Fuck, baby.” George groaned lowly, his face contorted in ecstasy. 

“Slap me.” you ordered. 

His hand lifted from your hip to slap across your cheek. 

“Fuck yeah.” you whimpered at the sting. 

“Dirty slut.” George spoke to you through his teeth as you ground down on his body roughly and his hand wrapped around your throat, “My pretty little whore just wants to hump me until she comes in her cute little panties…only a wall away of a paddock full of fans who would kill to be in her spot right now.”

“You’re mine.” you retorted shakily, letting your hips speak their own language to him. 

“Oh, yes, baby, I’m all yours.” George agreed easily in a warm purr, “Show me. Cum all over me and show me who I belong to.”

“Mm mm.” you shook your head despite how close you already were. Instead, you grabbed his wrists - pulling one hand off your throat and the other away from your waist - and you pinned them down against the back of the couch on either side of his head. With his clothed cock angled right up towards the waistband of his thin shorts, you were at the perfect angle to rut up against it so your clit was directly on top of it and taking every inch he had through the fabric. You countered his demand seriously, “I want you to cum in your shorts.”

“Uh huh?” George stared right back at you, “Wanna cum with me, baby?”

Your fingers tightened around his wrists as his buttery voice had your pussy aching for more of him and you simply offered him a “mhm” in agreement, feverishly rutting yourself against his body until the both of you were burning hot and desperate for it. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle as he stared at you and his breaths fell in time with yours shallowly, sharing little whimpers and moans as you grew closer together. 

“Fuck, George-” you cried out shakily. 

“That’s it, baby.” he encouraged you on, “Just like that, love, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum for you.”

“Please, please gimme it.” you whined, still holding him pinned back against the black leather couch. You could feel his cock twitching in his shorts and right up against your clothed cunt that ached for your shared orgasm, wanting to give him something so good to cure those first race jitters. The moans were nearly tumbling from your lips as you pulled yourself back and forth desperately on his lap and they only grew higher in pitch as you got closer. 

“Good girl…good girl…” George’s hands slowly bunched into fists, his eyes dropping from your gaze to stare down between you at the way your panties rutted against the thick bulge in his little shorts. “Don’t stop…I’m right there, baby.”

“Fuck!” you squeaked, desperately trying to keep your pace on top of him as your body shuttered with pleasure, teetering right on the edge. 

“Yes…yes…” George looked back at your face, “Shit, I’m cumming-”

And when his expression screwed up in that perfect picture of pure ecstasy and his cock pulsed underneath you, you let yourself follow quickly, meeting his timing perfectly as you slumped right down on top of him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as you tensed and shuttered in his embrace and you shared deep lingering gasps and moans and your hips jumped against his at the feeling of his dick throbbing between you. 

“Oh my God.” you whimpered into his neck, slowing your hips right down through your orgasm to milk the last of it for the both of you. 

“That was so fucking hot.” George panted from underneath you and he rubbed your back lovingly. 

“Fuck, I love you.” you sniffled, overwhelmed with pleasure, and you took a few seconds to just cling onto him. 

“I love you so much.” 

When you sat back from him to position yourself up straight on his lap, you tucked your hair behind your ear so you could look down at the front of his shorts. The tented fabric was lessening as he softened but in its place was a faint little wet patch that had seeped right through the fabric of his underwear as well. You slid a hand down his chest as he draped his arms out across the back of the couch and he watched you gently touch the stain before rubbing your palm strongly over his crotch. He flinched naturally in sensitivity and you shared light laughter as you leaned in for a few breathless kisses. 

You soon shifted off his lap to rest on the couch beside him and he adjusted his arm to wrap around your shoulders and pull you into his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You sighed contently, but with melancholy undertones, “I dunno how I lasted two weeks without you.”

“I don’t know.” George hummed teasingly, “Must have been some sort of miracle before you just had to fly all the way out here to dry hump the fuck outta me.”

You smacked his chest, “Shush. I flew all the way out here to support you.”

“Well, I feel very supported.” George announced, leaving you with one more kiss to your temple before he was taking his arm from around your shoulders, “But now I have to go change because sitting in wet underwear of drying cum is not very comfortable.” 

You watched him get up and walk the few short paces across his private room to his open bag set in the corner, calling after him innocently, “Damn, because I was going to say you should leave them on for the race. Little good luck charm of sorts.” 

“Oh.” George groaned at the mere concept as he changed into a clean pair of underwear, “As much as I appreciate the very generous offer, that sounds horrible.”

You just smiled at him and he dipped down to kiss you briefly. 

“Hate to leave so soon after this but I gotta get out there. We're approaching the last hour.”

“That’s okay.” you answered, watching him walk over to his narrow closet to grab his neatly folded fireproofs from the shelf to start to dress, “You’re a busy man. Everyone wants a piece of you.”

George chuckled, pulling his shirt on, “But you are the only one who really gets a piece of me.”

“I get every piece of you.” you corrected. 

“Of course, darling.” George tilted your chin up so he could lean down to give you a few lingering kisses that made your stomach fill with butterflies. 

When he pulled away, he continued to get dressed; stepping into his race suit and pulling it up around his waist before reaching for his gloves and boots and balaclava. You watched him contentedly, still housing that perfectly blissed out smile on your face. 

George then looked back at you, “You have a pass, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you answered, “in my bag.”

“Okay, good.” he smiled, “So I’ll see you after? In the garage?”

“I’ll be there.” 

George leaned down to give you a quick kiss.

As he turned away from you, you smacked his bum and you reminded him cheekily before he left, “Try not to think of me grinding on you until you came in your pants during the race.”

“Hey now, I thought you’re supposed to be supporting me, not distracting me here.” George shot you a sarcastic glare as he lingered in the doorway of his driver’s room for a second longer. 

“I think I just did a whole bunch of supporting.” you sang innocently before following it up with a more serious, “Good luck. Not that you need it.”

He merely sent you a wink and then disappeared into the hallway of the motorhome, ready to head back into the chaos of the paddock and the rumbles of the garage like nothing had happened.

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[seokiloquy]

Shift Pt 2 - Kozume Kenma

Au: Regular (timeskip)

Tags/Warnings: Dual POV, use of a pseudonym (username: ForestFire) instead of (Y/N) in most cases, swearing.

Word Count: 2k

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4

Pressing your phone into your ear with your shoulder, you riffled through your bag to find your house key. 

"I'll be there. Of course. Our deal still stands through, right?." You said before cursing under your breath as some receipts fell to the floor. You scrambled to pick them up.

"Okay, Forest. I'll let you go. Just remember the date, I'll put it in your calendar."

"That would be great, thank you."

The call ended as you walked through the door.

Throwing everything onto the nearest chair, you rushed to set up your PC and grab dinner before your stream started. Not even a few seconds after getting in and Uvo and Solarii were blowing up your phone with messages.

Ramen would have to do for now.

By the time the water boiled, you were already late. So, you scrambled to get your computer setup.

Immediately, your awaiting chat filled the comments.

"Can't talk right now. We are doing a PvP first-person shooter. Oh, hell."

You looked at the game your friend had sent you to download the other day, finally letting the realisation of what you were playing set in.

"I was way too out of it to realise what we would be playing. This is going to suck for me."

You entered the group chat, waiting for the chime to tell you you were connected to the voice channel. They were already chatting away.

"Hi, I'm here. I'm here!"

"You're late."

A shiver ran down your spine, making you stand straighter. You knew that dull, gentle voice. Years of laying on your university dorm bed, kicking your feet as you watched him stream and spoke in his comments.

"Hi, KenKen."

You froze, lifting your finger off your set voice button and smacked your forehead with an open palm. The remaining sting kept its shape. "I just said that." You look at your camera with a grimace, stomach dropping as your familiar term was caught on stream. "GAH, I'VE NEVER TALKED TO HIM BEFORE."

Your chat went haywire, making you groan and melt into your chair until your knees hit the floor.

"I guess I have to come clean," You sighed, lifting yourself back into a sitting position and saving your —likely now— bruised knees. "I was a regular in Kodzuken's chat while still in uni before I started streaming myself. KenKen was a common thing to call him amongst his followers back then."

There was no audible response from Ken, and while you knew why (you chose to go with touch to speak while waiting for the game because of him) but not hearing his words made you now more nervous.

Solarii, then Uvo, finally noticed your presence.

"Forest!"

Oh, thank goodness.

"Ah, everyone's here. Any issues getting booted up? Any questions?" Uvo followed.

"Too many." You responded.

"Eh, you'll be fine. Teams of two, at random. You won't know who you're with till we are in. The goal is to get the most kills with the least deaths. You will be linked to your teammate for voice chat but won't hear anyone else until the round ends. Any questions?"

"So many."

"Great! Let's get started."

You groaned as your chat laughed at you. 

As your game loaded, you switched your voice chat settings to be voice-activated and took as many bites of warm ramen as possible.

"Ready?"

You choked. "Auggh fuck. Ya ready."

"Okay."

Staring at your chat with distressed eyes, you mouthed the words "save me" only to get more laughter in response.

<Forest has a crush oooooh>

"He's going to kill me."

"That would be rather difficult; we’re on the same team."

You squeaked. "I forgot my mic was on for a second."

"Hmm."

The game loaded up. You pulled your chair closer to your desk by using your elbows, fingers ready on your keyboard.

"First, we head left and up the ramp for higher ground the other teams will be spawning at the other 3 corners of the map," Kodzuken said calmly as the loading screen came to a close.

Your nerves were vibrating.

"Kay." You moved your character.

"Left, Fern, left. Are you dyslexic?"

Fern? Your heart jumped into your throat. But instead of dwelling on the sudden nickname, you tried to respond. "No. I don't know. Maybe? I was never good at reading." You turned your character to follow him around a shipping crate and up a wooden ramp.

At the next level, you and Kodzuken are covered on 3 sides with an open wall that would allow you to shoot down into the field. You scour over the wreckage of shipping crates, wooden boxes and rusted machinery for any movement but find none.

“See anything?” you ask, eyes catching the stacked boxes, perfect for ducking behind.

“Nothing yet.”

You approach the boxes and make your character run into the right angle, jumping when the screen jitters.

“What are you doing?” Ken’s dull voice asks.

“Trying to get higher.”

“Some parts of the map have blocks, you can’t get up there.”

“Well, I’m sure gonna try.”

Pressing hard into your space button, as if it will make your character jump higher, the screen glitches, and you cheer at your glitch being a success. That is, until you realise you’ve taken damage and, instead of being on top of the crate, you’d manage to fall down a level, looking up at Ken's character above you.

“Nice going, Fern.”

“Hey! It almost worked!” Your screen went grey. “Damn it.”

Ken clicked his tongue. “Yep, and now I’m exposed, and you have to wait 30 seconds until you re-spawn.”

You heard Kenma sigh while looking at the ending round statistics. In any other round, he likely would have come in first or second place. You ended up in 3rd. Kenma earned 25 kills and you earned 23 deaths which inevitably balanced you out to come in a central placement. You could feel the dark hole of embarrassment waiting for you to fall into it.

“I'm sorry.”

“Get better or go back to Arcadia’s Inferno.”

You frowned. “Don’t say it as if it’s a bad thing. You play it too!”

“Ya. But better than you.”

You huffed. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” The voice channel reconnected everyone, and you jumped to speak first. “I want another teammate, KenKen is mean!”

Ken grumbled.

Uvo laughed, “Well, you did cost him the win, Forest. And besides, teams are assigned randomly. You have a 1 in 7 chance to be paired with him again.”

X laughed, “No worries, Forest. If we get paired up I’ll take you to victory!”

“Hell ya!” you grinned. “Take that, Ken!”

“X and Tawny came in last.”

“Oh,” you slumped.

“Shut it, Kodzu! I can win! Just stop killing me!”

“Stop being an open target, and I will.”

At the end of the stream, Kenma lifted himself from his chair and made his way to the kitchen. A buzzing was going off incessantly on the counter, and a cat hovering above the source, swiping at it with a clawed paw.

“Ah, stop it.” Kenma lifted the feline off the counter and tossed it to the floor before grabbing his phone with a yawn.

“Hello?”

“Greetings. Sorry for the late call. Does this happen to be Kodzuken?”

“Are you a stalker?”

“No, I work for Dungeon as a part of the Advertising and Events department. I would have called earlier, but you’ve been streaming for 8 hours, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I took a lunch break.” Kenma’s brows furrowed.

“And so did I. Anyways, I’m calling to invite you to the ADI 4 launch event on the first Saturday of June before the games release.”

“Ugh,” Kenma groaned. “Why?”

“Um, Well.” There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the phone. “You are a prominent member of the ADI community and have contributed much over the years. We wanted to make the event big and invite people to play the game before the official release to increase hype.”

It was very tempting. Dungeon never released advanced copies. The only people that were able to play before hard were a few in company speedrunners, and families whole signed NDAs just to make sure the game ran well for the average user and didn’t glitch too much, but just enough so that speedrunners could enjoy breaking the game a bit. Playing the game before it's released would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

However, he would likely have to stream on dungeons accounts, which, while would bring his fans to them, would mean he wouldn’t be able to get his first genuine reaction on his own channel, free of spoilers.

“Hmmm, I don’t know.” I don’t want any spoilers, and streaming my first playthrough on my channel is really important to me.

The woman on the other side of the phone sighed. “That is totally understandable, and we’ve accounted for that. We will be live-streaming the event and direct viewers automatically to your accounts when it comes to your times to play. You won’t lose any viewers or income; donations will be closed until the stream switches to your accounts. And you will get an advanced copy of the game to play there and take home so you can continue the playthrough in your own time without losing progress.”

Very tempting, Kenma’s heart raced with excitement. “You said accounts?”

“Ah yes, there will be a few other streamers there. You’d each get 30 to 45 minutes of streaming time if you want to stream. You don’t have to. You can just attend the event and get a game copy.”

“Who else is going?”

“Only a few.” Kenma poured a glass of water and sat on the counter, crossing his legs as he listened. “Um, Turret, Hux, and Kenji. But they’re choosing not to stream. And ForestFire.”

Kenma glared. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Excellent, I’ll put your name on the guest list and send you an email with all the details.”

He hung up without saying goodbye, and at the sound of his phone hitting the counter Cat, the cat, jumped back onto the counter to paw at it.

It wasn’t surprising that Forest was invited. Not surprising at all. Kenma groaned. Somehow, despite having created content for longer than them and talked about Arcadia’s Inferno longer than them, Kenma had somehow become second in line behind them. Kenma groaned, picking up Cat, and carrying him to the couch where he could cuddle with the furry animal comfortably.

He’d be attending a busy event filled to the brim with sociable people and likely have to be in Forest's company the whole time. Their loud, excitable company. Kenma sighed, rolling onto his back and taking a floppy Cat with him.

He was used to loud people. All his friends were the kind to be able to approach and start a conversation with a stranger or go to parties and have fun all night. Kenma spent most of his time trading stocks, doing work for Bouncing Ball Corp. or gaming. Alone, all alone in his big, dark and quiet house with a cat named Cat.

He was used to loud people, but Forest was an odd one. Somehow they managed to creep under his skin and stay there after just a year on the platform. Staring up at his ceiling, he could practically see them laughing, with a giant glittering smile and squinted eyes, before running out of breath and gasping for air, or smirking while sending a clever quip to the audience. Even the sight of them staring wistfully at their computer screen while playing Arcadia’s Inferno was burned into his retinas.

His heart thumped, stomach-churning while his body heat increased and sent flames to his fingertips. 

He loathed Forest. Fern. He hated them.

“Get out of my head.” He slapped his hands over his eyes, freeing Cat from his hold.

I have been helping prep and plan like… 3 events? All starting this weekend and going 3 weekends in a row. I’m pooped, my boss is certainly more pooped than me. And then I have three weeks to plan a Twice event for their concert. Oh my god…. Love it though. -Bacon

Posted: 22/05/2023

[ilyasorokinn]

request 1/3 (you do not need to do all of these but I'm just doing this for pizazz) wade allison - "i've been looking for my hoodie-" "my hoodie, you mean." (bonus points if that first quote is y/n and the second is wade) & "i don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it."

YOURS AND MINE

thank you bestie! and you bet your ass i'm gonna do all of them. also, i changed. one word in prompt 4 and didn't make it y/n's jacket cause the interaction i wrote in my head was too funny not to write, so i hope that's okay lol.*muah*

4. "i don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it." 14. "i've been looking for my hoodie-" "my hoodie, you mean." (from this prompt list)

you were typing away on your phone, responding to tiktok comments on a tiktok you had posted for the flyers. it was being received well, so that was a plus.

but because you were typing away, you turned the corner and totally missed wade turning the corner as well, "whoa." you gasped, almost falling if it weren't for him catching you.

"you good?"

"yeah." you smiled.

he smiled but it fell when he noticed what you were wearing, "that's mine. i've been looking for my hoodie-"

"my hoodie, you mean." you corrected.

"your's?"

"yeah."

"if i recall, this was on my side of the closet this morning."

"maybe you were so tired, you were hallucinating." you shrugged innocently.

"yeah, i'm sure that's what it was." he rolled his eyes.

"anyways, i was actually on my way to find you."

"found me." he beamed.

"you are next up in the player superlatives."

"oh, yeah, frosty was talking about it during practice."

"all good things, right?"

"only the best." he smiled.

"all right, follow me, mr. allison."

"why of course, miss y/l/n," he smirked, letting you lead him into the room where the little game would be played.

"all right, you can sit in the chair and i'll get isaac." you whipped out your phone to call your cameraman who was off on a break. it rang and rang before it went to voicemail.

your brows furrowed, "everything good?"

"yeah, isaac's not answering though."

"is that unusual?"

"a little. he usually picks up on the first ring."

"should i be concerned?" wade chuckled.

"no, you're in the clear. he's got a wife and a kid." you rolled your eyes, "it's all good. we can start without him." you made your way over to the camera and pressed a few buttons.

isaac had explained how to use the camera a couple times, but it was so long ago and you were kind of like dory. you forgot things a lot. wade knew this.

"you sure you know what you're doing?"

"not even a little," you admitted.

he stood up and made his way over, trying to figure out what you were doing, "do you know what to do?"

"he told me like two years ago, but i forget everything." you sighed, taking a step back so wade could try.

he pressed a couple of buttons but nothing happened. he took a step back and you both looked at the camera, "is there like an instruction manual or something?"

"i think so, but i don't know where it is." you ran a hand through your hair, "you know what? we have another camera. one i actually know how to use."

"why aren't you using that one?"

"because he was here before you. you're the first guy we're interviewing after our break." you pulled the other camera out of the closet and set it up.

you instructed him on how he could help then sat him back down, "ta-da!" you gave him jazz hands.

"look at you." he smirked, "now, let's get back to the task at hand. i want to go home and eat the leftovers in the fridge."

"the leftovers? who are you and what have you done to wade allison?"

"the evil hungry robot who took over wade's body." he joked, making you laugh.

"you weirdo, come on, let's get this over with so we can go home." you held a mirror up so he could fix his appearance if he wanted to.

"right, right." he fixed his hair before he gave you a thumbs up. you took a step back and pressed a button on the camera, and the red light came on, "i just want to say i don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it."

"okay, thanks for that." you rolled your eyes, "i have to cut that out, but for the record, i'm very good at my job, thank you very much."

"i know, i'm teasing." he blew you a dramatic kiss.

"whatever, jerk." you looked down at your notepad, "first question..."

taylor's 2.5k celly!

[rui-drawsbox]

i saw that you animate using krita? i use krita too but im not really familiar with how to. animate. at all. i was just wondering how you do it (like basic steps or smth!!) you dont have to reply to this ask at all if its annoying tho!!

hoho yes ifc i love talking about myself and the things i do hehehe★★★

still i dont guarantee any type of quality bc 1. Im bad at explaining things in general 2. im no english grammar expert haha 3. tbh the only parts of krita i understand are the basic animations, i dont even know how to configure the cube haha and 4. it's 1AM, it's the second time i write all of this bc i did ctrl+z in accident and 90% of the mf post dissapeared and im goddam furious hahahaha.

now, with no more further ado, lets begin with my class!

First of all, i recommend you to save your workspace and put the Animation one that come by default, right here:

Looks a little messy, right? Worry not! Just configure everything in the Dockers until you're satisfied: (yes i dont have windows activated, fightme microsoft)

Now, i always use the default Animation Template (Animation-Japanese-En), but they usually come with lots of layers/groups that we don't really need, so i always delete them until the Layout Paper is the only group. Then i create a group for the Characters and another layer for the backgrounds (we'll get there later!)

And before actually getting in the timeline and shi, letme explain two points, they're important i swear!

Onion Skins menu: (at the right bottom of the screen)

Here you can configure all that has to do with seeing the past/next frame in the timeline for when you're drawing. The bars show how many past/future frames you want to see and their opacity, you can also change their colors. Once you're done with the config, you can just close it, to open it again just use the weird striped drop shaped button or choose it from the Dockers.

And the Animation Settings menu: at the right of the Onion Skins button.

Here you can see the starting frame from your project and the last one, but we're focusing in the Frame Rate. It comes with 24 FPS by default, but for simple animatics like mines 8 FPS are more than enough.

Now, going with the actual animation things.

To start drawing you don't actually need to make a first frame, but i think is more practical make that type of start an habit to yk, dodge bad moments haha

This move also works for imported images, since they come as layers and we need to make them actual frames by creating another frame at their right.

Talking about imported images, all my backgrounds are done in Sai2 since i feel more comfortable drawing there haha.

When we import more than one image, they become separated layers, and to combine them all in one we must make them frames and move all to one timeline (?)

+ if you dont pin the layer in the timeline they dissapear from it, but you can just select it again from the layer menu and they will appear again (you gotta pin it so they dont go).

now some personal preferences,,, i don't actually organize my timeline in any specific way, the only thing i want is having all the important layers at the display, so i re-use layers for different things (like the arashi/izumi layer is also used for tsukasa's hair that i forgot to draw in the first scene haha)

Still, to simplify and organize things a little more you can always color the timeline as you want, selecting a single frame or many as you want!

My last tip is that Copy a Keyframe is nOT the same as Clone one. Copy will make them a complete separate frame, while Cloning one will make them into another frame, but whatever you do will affect the original frame. I learned that by force :)

That's all i honestly know about animating in Krita, in terms of theory i have no idea what im doing 120% of the time, so forgive me if its messy or hard to understand hahaha.

That's all! 2AM! It only took me one hour to re-write all of that letsgoo

Seeya★★

With love, Rui, almost having a breakdown for pressing ctrl z ★★★★

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of assassination, graphic smut, adult content, mentions of murder, pervy men in the workplace, falling for a villain, guns, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, alcohol.

Masterlist

Summary: Jackson just wants a normal life but thanks to his business, his chances were slim. but after meeting you, his chances it doesn't seem like such a long shot anymore.

A/N: Reading Jack's Villian wiki gave me the idea, and the personality section is what really set it in motion. He's more human than we thought, folks. I felt VERY inclined to write this. :)

Jack wasn't proud of his work. He never was. But he knew that once he got into the business, he could never get out. And as fate would have it, you met him on the job.

Your boss was a ruthless, lying, manipulative son of a bitch, and you just so happened to be his receptionist. You hated your job and the way your pig of a boss would always make it sickeningly obvious he was starring at your breasts when asking you to make a call. You hated him. Sometimes you would imagine ways to kill the bastard and get away with it too.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, but actually took the initiative of hiring an assassin. That's where you came in.

It was a late Friday night, and after a long grueling day of putting up with your boss's demands, you were so happy to see the front door of your home. You couldn't wait to collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and have a leisurely weekend.

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to find the right one. 'Why the hell did I have all those keys anyways?' you thought to yourself bitterly as you shuffled them around.

But the sound of a gun cocking from behind you made you freeze. Air caught in your throat as you tried to convince yourself you didn't just hear what you thought you heard.

"Don't let me stop you," a smooth masculine voice from behind you sneered, pressing what you presumed to be the barrel of the gun point-blank onto your back, "Unlock the door, step inside. Scream and you die."

You gave a small nod, your search for the right key more frantic now, and once you found it, your shaking hand fumbled with it before finally slipping it into the keyhole, your trembling hand opening the door, and you felt yourself get pushed inside.

The door slammed behind you, and that's when you whipped around, now face to face with your captor. The gun was still pointed at you, but the man who was holding it was what stopped you in your tracks.

If someone told you that morning that you were going to be held at gunpoint by one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life, you would have laughed in their face. But you weren't laughing now.

"What do you want?" you managed to squeak out, his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

"Well, I have a job to do, to put it plainly, and you're one of the only people that can help me complete it," he began to explain, "And you don't have a choice."

"What are you wanting from me?"

"Your boss. I want you to call him and tell him that there's something going on and he needs to swing by the office. Once he obliges, my guys who are waiting outside the building as we speak will take it from there."

"You're going to kill him?" you gasped. Sure, you considered doing it yourself, but you never thought anyone would actually try to do it.

"You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the gun that's pointed at you right now," he concluded, reaching for your home phone, politely holding it out for you to take.

You paused, and he raised a brow. Out of instinct, you tried to bolt past him to the front door, but when you realized it wasn't going to work, it was too late. He grabbed you violently as you thrashed in his grasp before he collapsed the two of you on the couch. He held you in one position until he felt your breathing calm, your neck in a headlock as you faced away from him, panting like an angry dog.

"Stop getting cute," he hissed next to your ear, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew his teeth were gritting.

He finally trusted you wouldn't pull anything else after he gave a harsh squeeze to your trapped throat, and he let you go, and you immediately scooted to the other side of the couch.

You felt his eyes on you, and with a sudden jerked movement, he held out what you thought was the gun, making you flinch. But with a double-take, you realized it was just the phone.

You reached out, taking it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt as if you could see something in his gaze. Something longing. Something not quite there. Reluctance.

Shaken fingers press the numbers as you click 'dial', but before you could hold it up to your ear, your captor stopped you.

"Nuh-uh. Speaker."

You nodded, pressing the speaker button before the dial tone echoed through your home. After three times, the line was suddenly picked up.

"What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?" your boss's harsh voice hissed through the phone.

"Yeah, Mr. Snider, there seems to be something happening at the office. Someone from the administration is here and demanding to see you," you tried your best to sound convincing.

"What do they fucking want?" he scorned, his tone making you flinch.

"I wish I knew, sir. They won't tell me anything," you tried to force a smile in your voice.

"Fucking useless," he grunted, making you shift uncomfortably.

"Should I tell them you're on your way?" you proposed.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be there in 15. And hey, don't get bitchy with me, yeah? Don't forget, you work for me."

"Yes sir," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

All the while Jack was watching your reactions. He saw how you flinched at strong tones and saddened at the insults.

The sound of the line going dead was what snapped him back to reality, your still shaking hand setting it down on the coffee table.

"Is that all you needed?" you finally spoke.

"I wish I could say yes," his words made your gaze shift to the floor in disappointment, "I need to stay here until the deed is done."

"How long will that be?"

"After I make this phone call to let the guys know the target is on his merry way, we'll wait until I get a call back. Then we can part ways and you'll never speak of it to anyone. Or else I will have no other choice but to come back and kill you."

You curled in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees as you didn't answer, the sounds of a number being dialed making you cringe.

The sudden movement of him standing up made you flinch, and for a second you thought you almost saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes before he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Stu? Yeah. Yeah, she called. He's on his way. He'll be there in 10. Make it look believable, yeah? Clients aren't paying us for anything that looks tacky."

Jack continued his conversation on the phone as he made his way to your kitchen, still in clear view of you. A few moments later he came back, the phone now hung up, a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink," he commanded.

"I'm not thirsty,"

He suddenly set the phone down, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around the cup, "I don't want you passing out on me. Drink," he commanded again.

Now it felt as if you had no choice. You lifted the cups to your lips, gently sipping as he watched you like a hawk until all the water was down your throat.

"Good girl," he praised jokingly, setting the glass on the table.

He then sat down with you on the couch. There was a prolonged silence.

"What's your name?" you finally asked.

He turned to you and cocked a brow.

"Sorry... just trying to make conversation," with an assassin you added bitterly in your head.

He scoffed, the room going back to silence, the two of you waiting... listening.

"Jackson."

"What?" you questioned, looking at him.

"My name. It's Jackson."

"Oh," you replied, "Well, I'm (name)."

"I know," he smirked.

You mentally facepalmed. Of course he did. He was an or assassin for fuck's sake.

"Can I call you Jack?" you asked meekly.

"Seeing as you won't ever see me again, sure. I haven't been called Jack since I was a kid though."

You could tell he was trying to open up. Just a little. Besides, he was right. It wasn't like he was ever going to see you again.

"Why?"

"Rippner. It's my last name," he explained.

"Oh shit," you said in spite of it not being lady-like, "That was a dick move on your parent's part."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation unfolded. You spoke about names, childhood experiences, hell, even what your favorite ice cream flavor was. It was a careless conversation with the mentality of getting everything out there.

You almost forgot that your boss was being killed right as you spoke. You felt the man in front of you open up. He was okay with being vulnerable with you.

That was until the phone rang, Jack rushing to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

His facial expression was unreadable as you watched him. Finally, he hung up the phone, his face returning to the same cold and distant look it had the moment you two had met.

"Well, (name), this is where we part ways," he began, but before he could walk to the front entryway, you grabbed his hand.

He looked startled as he turned around, his eyes searching your face for an answer. Your move was bold. Risky. But you were willing to take it.

"Don't go." your mouth moved before you could stop it.

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't believe it was you talking. Yet his hand was still being held tightly in yours.

"Please don't go."

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

1 Year Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

You flipped in your sleep, half awake when you realized the spot next to you was bare, the indent of the once sleepless man in his place. You sighed as you flipped back over, looking at the clock.

2:15 am.

You pulled yourself away from your kingdom of soft pillows and blankets and slipped out of bed, your feet pressing against the hardwood of your home. You left the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and when you were finally met with the living area of your home, you were met with the form of your lover.

He was hunched over on the couch, hovering over a glass of red wine that rested in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, his blue eyes no longer piercing but distant.

The creak of the floorboards under you gave your position away, the man glancing up at you, spooked.

An instant look of regret graced his beautiful features, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hush," you sighed, "It's warmer out here anyway," you concluded.

"Even without your mountain of blankets?" he smirked, thinking of how adorable you looked cuddled up under the mound of linen.

"The bed is always cold when you're not in it," you whined, stilling next to him as he continued to nurse his glass of red liquid.

"Sorry love," he sighed, setting down the glass before wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened in on his heartbeat. It was soft and lulling as you felt your eyes begin to droop.

That was, until you felt his hard-on press up against your back. A smirk crossed your lips.

"Is this why you couldn't sleep?" you questioned, subtly rubbing up against his bulge as you heard his breath catch in his throat.

"As I said," he muttered, "Didn't want to wake you."

"You could have just said so," you sat up, giving him a passionate kiss, one hand going in his hair, the other going down to his crotch, where he let out a primal groan at the feeling of your touch.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really in the mood for foreplay," he stated, his hand reaching your lace panties and ripping them off, pulling you on his lap so you straddled him.

He pulled his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing up. The tip was flushed and angry, pre-cum leaking from the tip, the ridges of his veins pumping.

You bit your lip as you hovered over his gorgeous cock before sinking down slowly, the both of you moaning as you become one. Not long after you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

Jack growled as he grabbed a hold of your hips, helping you as he lifted you on and off his cock, searching for solace in orgasm. His eyes locked with yours as you rode him, and in his eyes, you found nothing but love and admiration, every part of him screaming in appreciation for you.

To put it plainly, he loved the way you loved.

You felt yourself tighten, yet to your disdain, your lover found his release first, a loud groan escaping his lips as he poured himself into you, the warmth in your belly growing as you felt him let go.

By the time he was finished, he was completely blissed out, but you weren't done yet. You wanted to cum. You pulled him out of you, and he watched as his spend dripped out of your swollen mound.

Before he could ask if you were okay, you were already back on him, your thighs now straddling one of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked darkly, raising a brow.

"Shut up," you hissed, rubbing your clit on the meat of his thigh, not wanting to lose any fraction that was already built up.

He caught the hint, his hands finding your hips once again as he helped you drag your throbbing cunt against the skin of his leg. All the while, he whispered filthy things in your ear, knowing it would get you there faster.

"Look at you go. Bet you're not so tired now, eh? Humping my leg like a little bunny. Such a good girl, huh?" he coaxed in your ear, and you nodded desperately, immediately agreeing with whatever he was saying. You just wanted to cum.

Finally, you felt yourself come right up to the edge. Jack knew all your body language perfectly, smirking at you as he began to speak.

"Come on, cum for me, baby. Let me watch you cum,"

And you did. Oh, you did. Your ears rang as your eyes shut tight, feeling your body tense and shake as you let your orgasm sweep you away.

Jack helped you ride through it, his words of praise now seeping into your brain.

"Good girl, there you go," he crooned as you began to catch your breath.

You panted as you slumped against him, hearing his heartbeat once more, matching your breathing with his. You felt him press a small kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thank you," he whispered, and all you could do was nod.

Then he began to stand, "Now come on. Let's go take a shower."

"Can I bring the wine?" you asked intently.

"Fuck it," he laughed.

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

3 Months Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

"You're doing it again,"

Jack looked up at you at the sound of your voice. He was sitting there, his hands folded and his jaw clenched, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiety as he went back to staring at the developing pregnancy test on the table.

"What?" he finally said.

"You're overthinking. I can see it in your face."

He rolled his eyes, seeming harsher than he intended. But he was nervous. In complete honesty, you were the first thing Jack had that had any semblance of normal. and after the things he's done and after the things he'd seen, normal was everything he wanted. And that's what this baby meant.

He craved normal. Life as an assassin didn't really scream domestic. But with you, everything he had ever wanted was wherever you were.

"Whatever the test reads, we'll be okay," you ensured, walking behind him and wrapping your arms around the anxious man, doing your best to calm his rapturing nerves.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath, "We'll be okay."

The timer suddenly went off, the both of you perking up, chomping at the bit to get to the test, your fingers clutching it as you looked at it.

You gasped.

Jack froze.

You bolted into his arms, test in hand, bawling like a baby.

"You're gonna be a dad, Jack! You're gonna be a dad!!" you squealed, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he held you tight.

He began to tear up, "Really?"

You pulled back and nodded, showing him the test that read positive. He took it in his hands as a means to do a double-take, looking at the two little blue lines.

Without a word, he embraced you again, holding you tighter. His voice was muffled against your shoulder. From him came a small:

"Thank you."

[90stvshowgoth]

— BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: dabi is on the run from the cops when you just happened to leave your window open.

tags: drunk sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon but not really,

wc: 6729

a/n: this is my first dabi fanfic so i’m worried i might’ve made him a bit too ooc but tbh i don’t care. soft dabi is what i want and soft dabi is what i will get. huge thanks by the way to @a-monsters-love who beta read this story and made it a lot less sucky!

my requests are open by the way!

What woke you wasn’t the explosions or the screams, but the sirens. The mechanical moans echoed through the streets of Musutafu, and that sound pulled you up out of bed, looking out your window in a bleary state of half-asleep fear.

‘What was going on?’ Goosebumps ran up your arms as you peered out your alleyway view window, overlooking the fire escape to the siren that had recently been installed in your neighborhood a few months back. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you tried to recall when the Pro Hero Association had brought it, and that same chill sank to your bones as you remembered just what they were for.

A villain had attacked the prefecture. A dangerous one.

You tried to calm your breathing, slowly walking backwards from the window to think rationally about the situation.

‘There’s no reason for somebody to attack a random apartment building, they’re off fighting heroes,’ The reasonable side of your brain said.

Despite that the siren was still wailing across town and it began to set you on edge. You certainly weren’t falling back asleep any time soon. If you couldn’t go back to bed you thought you’d might as well make some tea to calm your frigid nerves. You smiled when you saw your well-loved cardigan hanging next to the door and hugged it close, otherwise wearing nothing but your bra and leggings.

When you stepped into the main room you breathed in the warm scent of the candle that you’d accidentally left burning. Cursing yourself for your lack of fire safety, you shrugged and used the wick to light your path to the counter. After filling up the kettle under the sink you left it under the lit stove to boil, taking a moment to admire how the burner’s low flames were almost purely blue.

From here you could see the small television beside the couch and with a press of a button it came to life before you. The harsh glare made your eyes wince before they adjusted to the unfriendly light.

You were drawn to the red index near the corner that blinked the words ‘breaking news.’ This made your sleep-addled brain finally connect the dots between the sirens and the reporter. The screen cut to a newsman outside of what used to be a ten-story building when all that remained was a smoking husk. Hesitantly, you increased the volume to hear what happened.

“—before fleeing the scene. We have reports that say the hero fighting him was put into critical condition following the attack, and is currently being taken to the hospital. A video was taken by a nearby woman who sent it to the authorities. We believe this clip to be of the suspects,” the journalist paused, and a low-quality film began to play. Whoever was recording had badly shaking hands so It was difficult to make out. Your eyes widened at the sight of the building you walked by every day for work, the Shishido hero agency, razed by a torrent of blue wildfire.

Escaping from the crumbling building were four or so figures, too far away to see with any accuracy, but each had an unmistakeable silhouette. The League of Villains.

They were something of a modern socratic dialogue. Whenever someone brought up their name or the hero killer Stain’s it was always just to be a contrarian towards whoever was on the opposing side. Fanatical opinions would spark heated arguments online but you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Although, if you’d have to pick a side, you would choose the League’s. After Stain’s video had spread through Japan you dug deeper into the shady histories of some of the Commission’s most well-respected heroes. Whatever standard you held those pros to crumbled into dust under miles of ‘collateral damage,’ and omitted crimes that were swept under the rug by police. So when the faces of the league went up on the screen you couldn’t help but smile at their victory.

The whistle of the kettle pulled you from the television. You rushed to take it off the stove before it could get any louder, and routinely began to fix the tea just the way you like it. You hummed, smiling as the first sip of the warm brew spread down your body, fending off the cold.

You threw the remote onto the couch that sat across from the small kitchen. Moving back to your bedroom and getting cozy with the tea, you reveled in the way that the mug loosened the frozen joints of your fingers. But before you could relax and block out the sirens with some music, you noticed another chill rush through the small room. Groaning over-dramatically, you set the tea down to retrieve another blanket from your pile; but your eyes widened when you tracked down the source of the cold.

Your window was open.

That caught you off guard. You were absolutely sure you closed it before bed knowing how low the temperatures would drop, though with growing panic you noticed how you specifically don’t remember locking it. There’s only two ways it could’ve been open now. Either you simply misremembered earlier that night and forgot to close it...

Or someone else broke in.

The tea’s warmth was long forgotten as you reached shaking hands to close the window. But before you could slide the panel shut a calloused hand clawed itself around your mouth so you couldn’t scream.

Fear gripped your lungs as you struggled to breathe, thrashing desperately against the second arm your assailant had snaked over your waist to keep you still. Your leg banged painfully on the side of the windowsill as you struggled but it didn’t deter you from opening your mouth wide enough to bite down on the attacker’s hand.

“Fuck!” He cursed when your teeth drew blood around his thumb and practically threw you to the ground. As you were about to use your newfound freedom to scream for help, the man lunged towards you with one outstretched hand.

His flesh was suddenly engulfed in a hissing blue fire and you winced at the wave of heat that flared so close to your face. From here you could easily make out the assailant’s features from the illuminating glow of his flames.

He had deep scars circled under his eyes using what looked like piercings to hold the tattered skin together. His lips quirked after realizing he’d caught you for good, making his charred skin pull against the metal in his cheekbones. Panic hadn’t altered your memory, you knew exactly who was standing over you. Dabi of the League of Villains.

Before either of you could make another move someone banged on the front door. You turned to look towards the sound but the heat close to your reddening throat kept you from doing anything stupid.

“Ma’am this is the police, open the door.” You and Dabi stared at each other from the implications and you could already see a plan forming behind his eyes.

He leaned far too close, keeping his lit hand still hovering over your neck as he whispered his words into your ear, “Listen to me nice and close, doll,” you couldn’t bring yourself to breathe underneath the searing tension. “You’re gonna answer that door. You’re gonna smile and say that nobody’s home. And if you give away fuckin’ anything,” Dabi’s flames somehow stoked themselves, the heat so intense that your teardrops evaporated before they could leave your eyes, “I’ll set your hair on fire first. So you can feel your brain cooking.” He spoke with a dripping malice that made your blood run cold despite the flames creeping up his arm. You nodded, too terrified to form words as he pushed forward; telling you to get up.

The brief walk from your bedroom to the front door had never felt so long. Your legs felt like the static emanating from the television, all shaky and unstable. Once your hands curled around the handle you decided not to spare a glance back.

‘What do I do?’ You didn’t want to die, at least not by immolation of all things, so you’d have to play along. You cupped your feverish face in your hands and took an unsteady breath. ‘As long as I can fool these cops, I’ll be fine. I can do this,’ At least, you hoped.

Opening the door caused the hallway’s lights to flood through your darkened doorway. Once your eyes flinched with discomfort you saw the unmistakeable uniforms of two police officers, both middle-aged and looking much more disinterested than you would’ve thought.

“Is there a problem?” You could lie smoothly enough but your voice was still feeble from Dabi’s strain on your neck.

The one who had called out earlier answered your question, “A member of the League of Villains was seen climbing in through a window to this apartment building, but the witness didn’t remember exactly which floor or room. Is anyone else with you?”

You feigned confusion, going so far with the act as to tilt your head slightly to the side. “No, I’m sure I’m alone, sir.”

At that moment a painfully loud squeak echoed from your bedroom and your eyes widened at the audible gap in your story. There was a loose floorboard right beside your bookshelf that creaked under even the slightest weight. You’ve learned to avoid it over time but Dabi had no idea.

That bored expression on the cop’s face shifted and you scrambled to come up with a explanation. “I thought you said you lived alone?”

An idea popped straight from your brain to your mouth, “My cat! His name is—“ you thought of the old, lovable house-cat your family had kept while growing up, “Byron. He like to get into my plants.”

“...Alright then, Ma’am, just keep yourself safe.” It seemed to just barely convince them.

You almost couldn’t fight back the elation as you waved off the oblivious pair, heeding their words by locking the door behind them in a rush. Pressing your back against the wood, you tried to settle the adrenaline pounding through your chest. Unfortunately as soon as you started to calm down, Dabi strode from the bedroom with a curious look in his eyes.

“Not bad, lady. Didn’t think you’d give it your all like that,” he must’ve kicked himself for making that noise and thought you would’ve used it as a way to give him up, “especially for a villain like me.”

The tension in the air had noticeably lessened, and you started to think you had a good shot at surviving the night. “I mean, I didn’t want them to find you either.”

Dabi paced around the living room, turning on one of your floor lights in his path towards the couch, “And why’s that?” He asked, flopping unceremoniously onto the secondhand loveseat.

Sure, you were still half pissed at the guy for breaking into your apartment and threatening to kill you, but it was clear that everything he did wasn’t personal. He just needed to escape from the police, but since they were gone what would happen now?

“Because...” you wanted to find the right words to convince him, “because I hate heroes too.”

Under the dim glow of the lamp you caught a glimpse of a half-handsome smile from that answer. Now that there was none of the malice from before you could appreciate just what he looked like under the warm lighting. Especially his eyes, which turned out to be a truly stunning shade of blue.

He kicked his feet onto your coffee table and patted the seat next to him. You’d have to deal with whatever dirt or soot he’d tracked inside tomorrow morning, but for now you found yourself accepting his invitation.

“Lucky me, huh?” Dabi asked rhetorically, and you found yourself almost smiling back at him. The couch was still cold underneath you but you painfully realized that Dabi was emanating heat like a goddamn generator.

‘It must’ve been from his quirk.’ you thought bitterly, shivering despite yourself.

Dabi drew a pack of Newports from his coat pocket and slid a cigarette out with his teeth. Instead of using a lighter a thin blue flame ignited on his index finger. He held it to the tip and drew in a deep lungful of smoke.

“So, what’s your deal, anyways? You got a thing for villains or something?” He wondered out-loud, teasing another blush onto your face as you shook your head.

“No, I just— I mean not like that,” From the look on his grafted face you could tell he wasn’t convinced. “The Hero Commission is corrupt, I agree with the league on that at least. Stain’s video kinda affected me, you know?”

Another small grin graced his lips and a small part of you decided that you wanted to see that expression more often, “What’s your name, doll?”

The question put you at ease; When he repeated it back, rolling the syllables over his tongue, you couldn’t wait to hear him say it again. Wordlessly, he extended his hand towards you, offering the lit cigarette between his fingers. When you took it all you could focus on was how warm his hands felt against yours for those brief seconds.

Wisps of smoke danced in the air as you inhaled, coughing a bit after the dry tang started to sting the back of your mouth. He smirked at your reaction before taking the cheap cigar from your fingertips.

Dabi saw the remote you left laying on the couch and mindlessly turned on the TV across from you. The news station was once again playing, this time an interview with one of the heroes who fought at the scene. This hero in particular was an older man with a receding hairline and an honestly ridiculous outfit that looked somewhere between a scuba diver and a 70s golden-age comic book character.

Beside you, Dabi groaned at the sight of him, “This fuckin’ guy...”

“Were you the one that fought him?” He nodded without breaking his attention from the screen.

“His quirk was such a pain to deal with. He controlled all the oxygen in the room— made it hard to set his ass on fire.”

There were a surprising lack of injuries on Dabi as far as you could see, aside from a few scrapes alongside the bruised scars that crawled below his loose shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder how far down they went, but quickly turned your attention back to the screen to ignore those ideas. The hero he fought looked far worse for wear, skin marred with fresh burns that singed holes into the costume; His legs shaking similarly to how yours were just fifteen minutes ago. Dabi seemed to have that effect on people.

Before you could ask him how he’d won his fight he was off the couch and walking towards the kitchen. He casually searched through your apartment with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

You sighed, a bit annoyed at how he helped himself to your fridge, “Dabi, if you’d tell me what you’re looking for I could show you.”

“Nah, already found what I wanted.” He dug open one of the drawers and smirked as he pulled a chill bottle of wine from the fridge.

Dabi tracked down two nearby glasses and a corkscrew before returning to your side and started to twist the metal tip into the pliant seal. It pulled loose with a soft pop and he filled each of your cups with the cherry wine you had been saving for a special occasion.

As you raised the rim to your lips and breathed in the fermented smell you paused. Were you really about to drink wine with a villain? A wanted criminal who broke into your apartment? His hand had been around your throat as he whispered about how he would burn you alive less than half an hour ago. There had to be something wrong with you to even consider it. Beside you he nearly emptied half the glass in his first sip before going back to enjoying his cigarette and you found your resolve crumbling at his lazy half-smile. Making possibly one of the dumbest mistakes of your life, you followed his lead and took a long swig from the bittersweet drink, intent on letting the alcohol relax your nerves.

The effects were slow to come, it was only wine after all, but as the night carried on and the two of you kept drinking you started to notice the effects taking hold. At the very least, conversation between you flowed easily, trading questions about each other that never grew too inquisitive. He didn’t try to pry too deeply, he didn’t even ask for your last name, and you were sure to never bring up his scars. You talked for what must’ve been hours, and as the bottle emptied, the space between the two of you grew smaller.

Dabi could handle his alcohol, but you couldn’t, clearly. To be fair, he was tipsy, but the way you unashamedly leaned your head on his shoulder when you grew tired was anything but sober.

“So, doll, got a boyfriend or something?” He asked, testing the waters. You leaned up and sighed at the question.

“No, nothin’ like that... I haven’t had the time.” You tipped your glass back but the wine never reached your lips. You groaned at the sight of the empty cup and leaned up to grab the bottle from the table. Unfortunately, Dabi’s hand held onto yours before you could reach the vice; You felt him pull you back towards the couch by your wrist until you lost your balance, falling back against his shoulder. If he minded he didn’t show it as his arm rested around your hip.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” The condescending tone in his voice was annoying but it wasn’t enough to make you move from his comfortable grasp.

You scoffed, messing with your hair to avoid looking at his face, “God, who are you, my dad?”

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face, “Oh, so you’re into that Daddy shit, huh?”

The comment took you so off-guard that you broke into a fit of giggles that did nothing to temper the blush returning to your face. Dabi loved how much of an effect he had on you; the simplest words turning you into a flustered mess.

“Nah, not my thing-“ ‘Unless you’re into it,’ You barely kept yourself from saying that second part out loud. From this angle Dabi had the perfect view of your tits pressing against his chest and he stared shamelessly. You barely noticed, too focused on how warm he was while holding you close to his side. It almost looked like something a boyfriend would do, but you knew better.

It was a strange feeling, to be so under Dabi’s influence. Every lingering touch, every heated stare... It was driving you crazy. And he knew it. He was toying with you and you couldn’t believe how much you loved it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a chill running down your spine, only realizing that you were so caught up in your time spent with Dabi that you forgot to close the very window he had snuck through. As the night carried on it somehow got colder and you cursed the thin cardigan you found yourself wearing that did nothing to shield away the biting air.

“You cold, doll?” Dabi was surprisingly perceptive, noticing the trail of goosebumps that ran down your arms. Although, perhaps it was the sensation of his hand trailing over your skin that caused it rather than the wind.

Nodding hesitantly, he wasted no time in wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You couldn’t have held back the relieved sigh that left your lips if you tried. Because when Dabi wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you to his chest, it felt like heaven to your frigid bones.

As you curled into the embrace he couldn’t ignore how you felt on top of him. The pressure of your ass sitting on his dick drove him crazy, and it took damn near everything in him to not push you down face first and take you then and there.

“Dabi, you feel amazing,” His eyes widened, your slurred words almost making him lightheaded, “so warm...” You trailed your hands up and threaded them through his coarse dark hair. The faintest of groans left his lips as you got comfortable and accidentally dragged yourself down the front of his jeans.

All at once he took hold of the skin of your thighs, stopping you from moving and damn near shaking with effort to keep still. “Doll... cause’ you’re drunk, I’ll ask you this one time—“

“—Please, Dabi,” You didn’t budge under his bruising grasp or struggle like before, instead holding eye-contact, resolve heavy in your voice, “I want this- want you so bad,” It was enough for him, and he didn’t hold back.

He was ravenous when he finally pressed his lips to yours, leaving you tongue-tied and moaning into his mouth. The alcohol only added fuel to your desire, easing the tension on your clit by grinding against him. He broke the kiss in a choked gasp, his hands cupping you around your ass and fondling you through the thin material. When he stood up from the couch gravity somehow felt heavier, but it must’ve been from the wine. His hands still held you by your thighs and while he backed the both of you towards the bedroom his lips never left yours, even when he went to rip your cardigan off your shoulders, leaving it behind along with his coat, you in only your bra and leggings.

The loud bang from Dabi kicking the door open startling a squeak out of you and he chuckled into the kiss, running a stapled hand through your bedhead and pulling hard enough to make you keen into his touch. Rather unceremoniously he threw you onto the bed, briefly disorientating before you could make out Dabi’s alluring figure ridding himself of his clothes. Once he pulled over his shirt you saw his maimed chest covered in taught muscles and scars. As he broke your gaze to turn his attention to his jeans, fumbling with the cheap zipper, you couldn’t help from crawling towards him slowly on your knees before whispering, “No—“ He looked up from his trance, wondering if you’d changed your mind before you quickly perished the thought by pulling him towards you by the loops on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow at your show but didn’t make a move to interrupt the adorable way you took care of him.

So you began, looking into his eyes as you kissed down his deformed chest. It seemed a miracle he was even standing before you, with haphazard staples barely holding him together. You couldn’t resist giving the seams of his wounds special attention, pressing light kisses to the metal as you made your way down.

You unhooked his jeans easily, eagerly reaching to feel him through his boxers. His nails dug into your scalp when you finally eased his shorts off, breaking your eyes away to look between his legs and—

You couldn’t’ve stopped the needy moan from your lips if you tried, too attracted and nervous about the shiny bridges of metal through his dick. “Fuck, Dabi...” he had the most cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face as he watched you salivate over him.

“What’s wrong, baby? Never had a guy with piercings before?” You didn’t even hear him, instead responding with a dazed shake of your head; far too tipsy on the sight of him towering over you, reddened head leaking against his stomach.

He pretended to come to a decision, “Guess I’ll have to take my time with you before fucking that cute pussy,” his words sent heat straight to your core, slick pooling in your ruined panties, “but then why am I the only one naked? You’re gonna make me embarrassed you know.” The amused look on his face put you at ease and you laughed a bit at the idea.

“You? You’re the most shameless person I’ve ever met.” The smile he brought out was enough to ease the nerves that came with being so vulnerable to a man like Dabi.

The foe-offended look on his face wasn’t any less ironic, “You wound me, doll,” when his attention fell back to your clothes he didn’t hesitate to snake his hand below your arched back and unclasp your bra. Before you could think of covering yourself he’d already raised your arms up and thrown the lace material into some corner of your room.

He was on you in an instant, biting and sucking on the plush skin of your tits with abandon, enjoying every small tremor it brought from your shaking lips. To him your body was a blank canvas just begging for him to bruise, and he would take his sweet time carving teeth marks into your chest.

But while he had his fun you had yours, running your hand along his collarbones and carefully worrying the stapled hem of skin. You weren’t sure how the stitches would hold up otherwise. But before you could worry about it too much you felt him pull away, a deep hickey left in his wake.

“You don’t have to be gentle with them,” he looked up at you with an unexpected sincerity.

With that there was nothing to hold you back from dragging your nails down his chest, the villain groaning as you felt his solid stomach beneath you. From a distance he looked like a patched rag-doll that was barely holding itself together but up close the wiry muscles that clung to his calloused body couldn’t be ignored. Dabi practically hissed when he felt your soft fingers wrap around his cock, only spurring you on further. The piercings weren’t as rigid as they appeared but they were scalding to the touch.

His breathing stuttered around you as you picked up your pace, the heat of his breath pulsing on your cheek as you took in every sinful expression on his face. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut at the pleasure. You stared unabashedly, taking note of how peaceful he looked above you. Like for the first time that night his body wasn’t wrought with chronic pain.

When you pulled your hand away his eyes shot open. “I didn’t tell you to fuckin’ stop.” He sounded pissed but before you could lose confidence you shifted your weight to the side, locking your arms together behind his to roll him over, leaving you on top.

“I wanna make you feel good, Dabi,” Thankfully he seemed to be curious as to what you had planned, letting you stay on top for now. You crawled down his body until you reached his painful hard-on. Wrapping your hand back around him you gave him the most doe eyed gaze you could manage before taking him into your mouth.

“God, that’s fuckin’ good,” He cradled your head and set his own pace, not too rough but far from gentle as you fought the urge to cough. The metal of his piercings were hot against your tongue, the heat unlike any other experience you’ve had before. Wrapping your tongue around him you intentionally hummed, the keening moan it brought from him more than worth the burn. Tears crowded near your eyelashes as he chased his own pleasure, breaking his gaze to crane his head back in ecstasy. His neck bobbed with the effort and the sight made you almost proud.

It was over far too soon and once he pulled away you almost missed the weight of him in your mouth. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you, hear me?” His words made you all too aware of how badly you needed him, but he continued to run his mouth as he pushed you up the sheets and took his place back on top of you, “Gonna fill you so good, babydoll,” He caged you beneath him and you whined at the feeling of his slick cock heavy against your thighs.

His hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, which do you want?” His blue eyes looked black in the feint light, staring at you with such an amused intensity that you didn’t even register what he said.

“What?”

Dabi tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning closer and whispering, “My mouth? Or my fingers?”

You normally wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye after he said that but liquid courage still ran through your veins and you leaned forward until you could nestle into the crook of his neck.

“Your fingers, Dabi,” You groaned as you felt his grip around your jawline move until his left hand curled around your neck and his right tore off your leggings before slipping below the waistband of your underwear. As soon as he touched you his eyes widened, a feral glint in his eyes.

“Fuck— Doll, you’re so fucking wet,” He squeezed your neck experimentally and the rush of endorphins sent to your head felt divine. It wasn’t to be outdone when you felt him circle your clit with his thumb, rushing into such a fast pace from the get-go. The onslaught of pleasure made a scratchy cry slip from under the grip of his hand. Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you were almost thankful for the immovable grip around your neck. It served almost like an anchor to ground you underneath him.

He pulled a startled squeak from your throat when his two fingers pushed their way inside. It barely hurt, but the maddening feeling of his long fingers curling and stretching your walls was one you wouldn’t forget. Dabi shushed your eager cries with an endless stream of filth whispered into your ear, “Can’t wait to fuck my cum into you, dollface. You want that? You gonna be my good fucking slut?” He was downright mean as he took his time stringing you like a bow. “You wanna feel me drip out of you like a street whore?”

“Yes, Dabi, I’ll be good, I promise just please—” You were too far gone at that point, grabbing fist fulls of dark hair to yank him to your mouth, the kiss muffling his groan from you pulling on your hair. His index finger curled so slightly into you, the pace on your clit turning soft once he added his third finger. The sound he brought out of you was somewhere between a dying choke and euphoric moan, each sensation coaxing you into his touch. Feeling him move so easily within you was almost enough to bring you over, your whimpers increasing against his lips, only for all of it to be taken away.

Dabi left you grasping around nothing when he took his hands away, no doubt enjoying the desperate way you tried to rock yourself back onto him. Only when you did, you were met with something far bigger than his fingers.

“Come on...” When he called you by your name it brought you back to earth for a minute, “I want you to beg for me,” looking to see his heavy length pressed against you as he rubbed the glistening tip onto your clit. “You’re gonna beg for a villain to fuck you,” The promise of pleasure was so enticing that it was worth lying to the cops, worth risking your safety, and enough to toss your pride out the open window.

Grabbing him by his hair, you forced him to look at you. “Dabi, please, I need you... Need you in me ‘til you cum,” desperation and lust coated every sinful word you said, but Dabi wasn’t satisfied. “I wanna be good for you, Dabi, want you to fuck me, fill me up, ple-“ your words were cut off by the intense stretch of your walls trying to take him in. You’d never screamed someone’s name so loudly before in your life.

“Oh, fuck-! Shit... your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” As each inch sunk deeper you couldn’t speak or even breathe.

He wasn’t wasting any time, mercifully toying with your clit as he filled you. The air felt thin in your bedroom, like you were hundreds of feet from the ground, drawing short, shallow gasps beneath him.

“Da-bi!” His hips ground slowly against yours and you were suddenly thankful for his prepping, unable to come to grips with just how full you felt.

An overwhelmed laugh fell from his burnt lips as he slowly pulled himself from your dripping sex, “What’sa matter, babe? Can’t take it?”

The pout on your face only made him grin, the childish indignity adorable to him. But his teasing was starting to push you to your limits. He might’ve been a powerful villain and you a civilian, but it didn’t mean he had to treat you like glass. Hooking your legs around his waist you forced him forward. Dabi’s eyes shot open and both of you choked at the sharp friction. Any trace of playfulness died then and there, his knuckles turning white from the grip on your hips.

He kept your legs tight around him as he surged forward, your mouth caught open in a daze. You weren’t sure what his piercings would’ve felt like inside of you but god, was it good. The metal spokes impressed into your body with fervor, constantly dragging against your sensitive walls.

Tomorrow you might say that the wine was what drove you so crazy for him, but you knew you’d be lying to yourself. He was by far the most intoxicating libation you’d ever tried. The sound of skin against skin was almost deafening, only broken by the dulcet groans from the man above you and the siren that still echoed outside your widow like white noise. In the back of your mind you wondered if they were still searching for him.

Dabi leaned his head into the crook of your neck, revisiting the marks he’d already made. His teeth bit down your chest all the while abusing your aching clit. It was all too much. You couldn’t help clawing at his broad shoulders, leaving inflamed tracks in your wake. When your nails made contact with the scorched seam on his back Dabi moaned, the loud whine in his voice got you to realize something crucial. The motherfucker got off on pain.

His touch turned ravenous after that, pulling you tight against him until there wasn’t any space between your bodies. The rough texture of his skin-graphs and the blistering heat of their staples pushing against your breasts just made his brutal pace feel more intense.

Your voice was higher pitched than you’d ever thought you could manage, squeaking out small moans with every quick pulse of his hips. Your ankles were sore and locked together— he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried. The legs that were still wrapped around him twitched involuntarily as you felt the string inside your core about to snap.

“Fa.. fuck, Da—bi I’m—“ you stuttered against him, crying into his shoulder when you felt his pelvis grinding so perfectly onto your clit while he railed you, screaming his name one more time as he pulled you overboard, being sure to scratch at his back as you thrashed futilely against him.

All at once his teeth were buried into your throat, digging in so hard that you mistook his spit for blood; his bite only sharpening the orgasm that sent waves of heat coursing through you. Against your dented skin he groaned and cursed, his voice coarse but dripping with pleasure as he cursed expletives onto your shining skin. The wetness of your climax dripped down your legs, making him somehow push faster against you, but despite the blinding orgasm he’d thrown you into he couldn’t stop until he’d finished and the overstimulation burned white hot through your entire body. Just as the drive of his cock bordered on painful, Dabi shoved you down onto him, stilling above you and choking on a groan.

Twitching inside your cashmere walls you felt the warm rush of his cum paint your insides as his hips jerked into yours. His heart beat wildly against his chest— you could feel it over yours, his eyes still glazed with pleasure. Dabi was sure to pull out slowly, through the dim glow of your room he could see his cum seep out of your glistening pussy, and he couldn’t help but push his fingers inside you one last time. He might’ve liked pain, but he was an asshole who enjoyed the uncomfortable keen it brought from your trembling lips.

Thin moonlight shone through your window, illuminating the maze of blemishes that razed against his alabaster skin. It might’ve been because of the bleary tears that still half-clung to your eyelashes, but above you, with a winded smile on his torn-up face, he looked half a corpse and half a god.

“Still with me, baby?” He noticed your staring, teasing you by waving his hand in front of your face.

You felt almost high, all drowsy symptoms included, only responding to his question with a feint grin. The wine and the rough sex both made you exhausted in more ways than one, but before you could complain Dabi had shifted his weight off the bed.

“Nooo...” Admittedly you felt a little childish but you couldn’t help but pout as he grabbed his briefs and went to leave your bedroom.

Through the open doorway he’d said, “Just getting a towel, stay put.”

His absence gave you a second to think, staring up at the ceiling with a thousand opposing thoughts bidding for your attention. You just slept with a villain— a murderer. You might side with what he stands for but Dabi was still dangerous. He could’ve killed you tonight, after all. And yet, the only thing you could wonder was what was taking him so long.

Soon he returned wearing his boxers, carrying a heavy towel that he ran under the sink with warm water and took to cleaning the dribbling mess between your thighs. You cooed at his touch, the afterglow of your orgasm cleaned away until Dabi read the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4am.

“You know I can’t stay, right?” He asked bluntly, and you nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show too badly on your face.

“Villain stuff, huh?” You shrugged, curling up into your pillow. Dabi had to continue hunting down the rest of his shed clothes while he mumbled some kind of agreement.

He flashed you a grin while he zipped up his tattered jeans, “Doesn’t mean I won’t break in some other time, doll.” Relief spread through your fingertips once he said that, the weight disappearing from your shoulders.

Your content smile followed him as he threw that thick coat around his shoulders, walking up to your bedside and leaning low. You grinned, leaning forward and trying to catch him for one more kiss, only to be interrupted by the sound of something below you.

Looking down, you saw Dabi slapping a handful of crumpled bills on your end-table, that smug grin from earlier evident on his face. Without bidding you some kind of goodbye kiss he made his way to the open window, sparing you a glance before saying, “Buy some plan B, alright?”

You hadn’t even thought of it, grinning and waving him off as he swung himself onto the fire escape. The sounds of metal clanging against his boots faded away into the distant echoes of the city, and you brought your hand to your throat. Softly you traced the deep blemish his teeth had left behind, your smile turning giddy as you thought about his promise of another visit, but unfortunately the wine was still simmering through you and without Dabi to keep you awake your eyelids started to feel heavy.

Under your plush covers, you continued to cup your hand over the mark he left as you faded off into sleep, the siren that still echoed through the streets acting almost like a lullaby.