#ALso yes the crossed out names is what they are named in the files

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 02

-SO I HOPE AND PRAY YOU MAKE IT WORTH IT.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ YAPPEE! part two officially out- so sorry for the wait EUEUEU… hehe hope the things that happen in this chapter make up for it being a few days late :p also, i will not be accepting anymore tag list requests! this is due to the amount of users that i can tag per post T^T … nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy the chap! happy reading :D 

p.s. i will be blocking the people who message me (rudely) to “hurry up” with the next chapters. i understand most, if not, all of you are excited to read the next chapters, but please do understand that i have my own schedule too :,)

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YOU HELD YOUR HEAD IN YOUR HANDS, GROANING INTO YOUR PALMS. In front of you sat the thorn at your side, Ken Sato. He had just finished reading- or rather, skimming through the files you had stayed up compiling. You peeked at him through your fingers before standing up to erase yet another column of pros and cons from the board. 

Taking a swig from the energy drink he had brought you, you shake your head as you try to figure out what to do next. Truth be told, you were just eager to leave. You had two weeks left until you could finally let these burdensome tasks go, all you wanted was for Ken to go along with your last few instructions so as to make your exit easier. 

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this, Ken.” You say, turning back around to face him. “You pick a girl, you ‘date’ her for a bit, and then you ‘split up’ amicably. Simple as that.” 

He tilted his head at you, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Oh sure, yeah. Let me just go out with a random girl and act like I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“Yes, exactly that.” You reply with the same tone, going back to your seat. “Now you’re getting it!”

He rolls his eyes, placing the stapled papers back on your desk. “I get it, I fucked up. But I still don’t get why you’re so…” He pauses, pressing his lips into a thin line and gesturing with his hands. “Persistent in actually trying to get me to date someone for the sake of my screw up.”

“And I don’t get why I have to keep reminding you of why I need to do this.” You lean back into your chair while pinching the bridge of your nose. “You were the one who-”

“-’Told the entire world you were in love’, yes I know! You’ve only said that like, what, a hundred times over?” He cuts you off, crossing his arms. “I know what I did. But I also know that I have a choice in this matter, don’t I?”

You go to reply but stop when you register his words. You knew that, obviously, which is why you had multiple plans. You were giving him the chance to choose, were you not? The various notes and drafted project plans were proof of that. They were all laid out right in front of him, what more could he possibly want? You look at him briefly, your eyes scanning his expression before darting back to the things scattered atop your desk. 

“I’m giving you choices.” You say flatly, slowly looking back up at him. 

“No, you’re giving me options and expecting me to choose.” He counters, his hand gesturing towards the papers. “I’m talking about my choice. My plan, suggestion, whatever you want to call it.”

“So what is your plan? Because as far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem to actually have one.” You reply, brows slightly furrowing at his stubbornness. 

“And that’s the point. I don’t need a plan,” He pauses, pointing his finger directly onto one of the outlines and it towards you. “I just need to ride it out.”

You let out a scoff, stunned at how Ken was still treating this so lightly. The corners of your lips tug up a bit, and you end up letting out a soft laugh in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I, though?” He leans back, maintaining eye contact with you. “It’s the choice that takes the least effort. And besides, I thought you liked it when I kept things private.”

“Oh, don’t circle this back to me.” You say, pointing a finger at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to address your little mishaps?” 

“Yes, I do. Which is why I’m trying to help you.” He says a-matter-of-factly, his eyebrows raising as if to emphasize how much he understands what your job entails. 

“No, you don’t.” You argue back, mimicking his crossed arms.

“Were you always this stubborn?” Ken says, catching you off guard. 

You feel your features scrunch up in confusion and annoyance, narrowed eyes slanting even more as this back-and-forth of yours keeps going. “You’re one to talk.” 

At that he smirks slightly, rolling his eyes as he pokes a tongue into his cheek. The audacity of this man to act annoyed. You think, all the while you continue to glare at him. You close your eyes for the umpteenth time that morning, taking in a deep breath as your nails dig into your palms. Despite wanting to calm yourself down, his words rang in your head like an unwanted mantra.

His choice.

Would it be so bad to give Ken free reign on this? Granted, he was the one who caused it. Why be the one to clean up his mess- again, for that matter? You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head once more. You could never understand how his mind worked, and you figured you probably never would. You tapped against the desk with your pen, bouncing your leg as you pondered on what to do. 

Your plan? Everything sets sail smoothly, with only the liability being either party slips up. Which, in your defense, you could cover up in the blink of an eye. His plan? No plotline with room for spontaneous detail sharing whenever he pleased. More work for you, more freedom for him. You stopped tapping then, clicking your pen into place. In your moment of contemplation, you had realized then this entire thing was useless. His plan, your plan, all the plans. None of them mattered, not if the end result was going to be the same. 

Goddamnit, you hated Ken Sato. 

You flip one of the stapled pieces of paper over, drawing over the blank side. “The start of your first full season with the Giants is in less than fourteen days. By then we would need to have already released another press release- ideally before your conference.” 

Ken jumps slightly, caught off guard by your sudden return to work mode. He watches as you line up different keywords with boxy arrows, all of which lead up to the ‘end’ of his lie. “What exactly am I looking at?”

You flash him a smile, albeit a fake one, and slide the paper to him. “Your plan.” Leaning back in your chair, you make a show of stretching your arms. “You’re right, we should go with your plan.” 

He laughs then, noting the lingering hints of sarcasm in your tone. “[Y/N], what are you doing?”

“Giving you your choice.” You reply with a small shrug. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” He says, his smile slightly faltering. “But… why?”

“It’s your life, isn’t it?” You tilt your head to the side, your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Now it’s his turn to be confused and annoyed. The way he understood this, you were letting him win. You were waving a white flag, surrendering to his incessant pleading. He scrunched his brows, still trying to process your words. You continued to sit there, waiting eerily patiently for him to respond. 

“And you’re serious about this?” He questions once more, hesitant to believe that you of all people would back down so quickly. 

“Mhm,” You hum, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m just your assistant. Well, for two more weeks, that is.” 

He felt like he was being played. He blinked at you, mouth slightly agape. The you that was sitting in front of him now was different from the you thirty-six hours ago. Yesterday, you were desperate for him to follow your plans. He recalled your words, ‘If you're actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.’ But now that you’re telling him to do exactly what he wants, he’s nervous. 

Nervous that he finally caused you to hate him for good. 

“If you’re done sitting there like I said something stupid, you can go. Coach wants to see the team, it’d be in your best favor not to be on his bad side two weeks before playoffs.” You say, not even looking at him directly. 

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Right, well, okay.” He stands up, sliding himself into his jacket before walking towards the door. “See you, then.”

You only hum in response, still not looking at him as you continue fixing all of the papers on your desk. Just before he’s fully out of your office though, you call out to him. 

“Yeah?” He answers immediately, peeking his head through the door. 

“Have fun riding it out.” You say, flashing him a smile. A real one, this time.

A WEEK HAD GONE BY JUST LIKE THAT. Surprisingly, Ken had been able to keep things under control. Even his comments to street paparazzis were concise, almost as if you were the one who coached him his lines. While you had expected him to do nothing, just as he suggested, you hadn’t expected him to last this long without an intervention from you. 

You sat by your window as your body sunk into your armchair, your eyes threatening to close. The early blue hues of the morning had started to break through the night sky, the clouds slowly parting to clear the sky. You typed vigorously against the keys of your laptop, eyes following the blinking cursor to prevent yourself from falling asleep right then and there. 

You had been up for hours constructing your updated résumé, keeping all your needed information concise and in one page. Despite having a well-rounded history in regards to jobs, the lingering fear of keeping yourself afloat was an inevitable burden you were scared of accidentally fulfilling. You had family, yes, but relying on them did something to your pride. Most especially since you had been low-contact ever since you abruptly moved to the city. 

Seeking help from friends was another option that was off the table. In all your years of working in the entertainment industry, the amount of people you had let into your life dwindled as you realized people’s true intentions. You had merely three people left in your life, and that was by far more than enough to keep you sane throughout the rest of your life.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Truth be told, despite the factor of having to deal with Ken, this job has been the best in terms of your benefits. He was much like you- little circle, low-contact. Even his own team was a limited number, leaving you to deal with other jobs and tasks that would otherwise be done by different people. Yes, the workload was tiring, but the pay was enough to keep you alive ten times over. You could only say a silent prayer to whoever was listening to bless you once more once you let go of this for good. 

You sat back, finally satisfied with the way your page was laid out. You faced towards your window, closing your eyes as your breathing steadied. The birds were starting to chirp, the sun casting a foggy glow through the clouds. In this moment of solitude, you allowed yourself to relax; it was more than deserved. Not like anything could happen in your sleep, right?

WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. You groaned as you were awakened by the continuous buzzing of your phone. At first you had thought it was an alarm you had accidentally forgotten to shut off, but when it continued on, you eventually had to force yourself to wake up.

The sun was high up now, bright rays peeking through your blinds. You squinted, uncurling yourself from your chair as you got up and stretched. You yawned, scratching your head as you finally unlocked your phone. You were greeted with an endless stream of notifications, your mail app and other social media platforms pinging by the second. There was also the factor of the loud noise outside, though you made it out to be some kind of commotion or parade. 

Your screen then flashed the caller ID of an unknown number, followed by another sea of notifications. You blink yourself awake, now slightly worried at just how much texts and emails you had been receiving. Did Ken do something? Did someone die? Did Ken die?

Before you could even open any of the messages, you hear the familiar ringtone of one of your closest friends. You slide to answer, pressing your phone up to your ear. “Ami? What’s up, what’s wrong?”

She laughed, and you could practically see her shaking her head at you. “I’m guessing you just woke up? Check literally any news outlet right now, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

What the hell was going on? You mumbled something in reply, putting her on speaker as you did what she asked. 

You wished you hadn’t. In bold, bright red letters, the article’s headline read:

Extra Innings in the Press Box: Ken Sato’s Hidden Romance with Assistant Revealed! 

What you saw next nearly had you chucking your phone into the nearest wall. Attached right under the headline was you and Ken. You and Ken. You let out a curse, and you could hear the sighs coming from Ami on the other line. The picture was clearly shot from a hidden vantage point, the branches from the trees blocking the camera proof of it. Despite the distance, though, yours and Ken’s faces were clearly visible. 

“What the fuck!” You yell, now fully awake eyes wide in confusion. “When was this released? H-How did-”

“Two hours ago. Apparently some passerby sold the picture to the press, and said passerby just happened to be paparazzi.” Ami cuts you off, her tone serious yet concerned. “Trust me, if I had known something like this was going to be released, I would’ve done something about it.”

You left your phone on the kitchen counter as you paced back and forth, your hand glued to your forehead as you tried to wrap your mind around what was happening. Obviously it wasn’t true, you of all people knew that. But nobody else did, and that was the problem. 

“Ami what the hell is happening?” You manage to breathe out, still pacing. “This is all so-”

“Much? Yeah, I know.” She cuts you off again, and you can hear the bustling sounds from her office. “My own publisher is on my neck for this, God only knows what you’re going through. Are you okay? If you need help this could technically be classified as invasion of-”

“I do need help because this whole thing isn’t-” You start, but are ultimately cut off again when you hear the sounds grow louder outside. 

“[Y/N]? ‘You there?” Ami’s muffled voice calls out as you walk towards your window, peeking down to where the commotion was coming from. 

“Oh shit.” You gasp out, eyes widening even more as you realize the noises were coming from the sea of reporters and photographers waiting outside your townhouse. 

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the window with a hand to your mouth. This cannot be happening, this had to be some sick nightmare. Stumbling towards your phone, you mumbled some reply about needing to go before abruptly hanging up the call. Rude, perhaps, but Ami would understand. 

In the span of two hours of that damn article being released, eager and greedy gossip outlets had found your address and swarmed your only safe space. You held your phone close to your chest, running up to your room as you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes once more, breathing in and out heavily. The more you tried to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening, the more you slowly realized that it actually was. 

You opened your phone once more, muting all your socials and other messaging apps. You needed to think, and you needed to act fast. By memory, your fingers automatically scroll for Ken’s legal team. Having gotten him out of falsified defamations multiple times, acting during these types of situations was almost a second habit. But this didn’t involve just him, it involved you. You were a part of this mess, you couldn’t be the one to solve it.

A mantra of curses conjured up in your head, and you delete the previous number you had dialed in. Think, damnit. Think, think, think. You thought to yourself, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you prayed for a solution to be presented to you. An alternative popped up into your brain then. Albeit that alternative was stupid, but it was something. 

You dialed his number, anxiously waiting as it rang. 

KEN WAS ON HIS BREAK, SITTING ON THE BENCH AS HE WIPED THE SWEAT OFF HIS FOREHEAD. Playoffs were about to start, and Shimura was working them to the bone to make sure everyone had their head in the game. He let out a deep breath through his nose, arms resting on his knees as tried to calm down after a few laps around the stadium. The rest of his teammates seemed to be reacting obnoxiously over something, though he didn’t have the energy to feign enthusiasm. 

One of his teammates teasingly nudged him then, giving him a playful grin. “Your secret’s out, huh? All this time you were with her.”

Ken laughed it off, still oblivious to the fact that nearly all of Japan now knew the face of his supposed girlfriend. He noted the specification in his tone, as if he were referring to a mutual friend of theirs. Which, again, was impossible- nobody but you knew the secret he was hiding. He gave them a nod before returning back to his own space. 

He felt his watch buzz against his wrist, and he was all but surprised to see you calling him on your day off. He sat up straight then, grabbing his phone to answer the call. He had to admit, he answered a little too excitedly. Or nervously. He couldn’t differentiate the two, not when it involved you. Ever since the start of this stunt, something in him shifts whenever you or anything related to you gets mentioned. He brushed it off as some sort of familiarity attachment, the weight of your sudden resignation still heavy on his shoulders.

Was he sad to let you go? Maybe, he wasn’t entirely sure. Aside from the fact that he had Mina, you did your job well. You knew the ins and outs of everything he liked and disliked, you kept him organized and on track. Sure, losing you would be another hurdle he would have to get over, but that doesn’t mean he would be… impotent without you. He clears his throat before he finally brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hey-” He starts, but stops when he notices the frantic panic in your voice. “Woah, hey slow down. What happened?”

“You happened.” You reply then, albeit through a shaky breath. 

“What?” He questions, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s exactly as I said. You happened,” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “And now I need your help. Please.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

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[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and the kids ask them how did they fall in love.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, kaveh, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. use of farsi, arabic and japanese terms. there's a lot of dialogues but there's a plot. approximately 7.3k words. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Wriothesley

You watched Cameron and Éveline playing on the other side of the room as you tirelessly documented the files that had arrived from the courthouse that afternoon. 

Wriothesley have been patrolling the prison’ Forbbiden Zone all day after receiving an information about some anomaly within the fortress, so you barely had seen your husband except for the brief greeting at breakfast.

Distracted with your work, you didn't even notice that both children had stopped building the wooden blocks and Cameron was sitting in the chair in front of you while Eve made herself comfortable on the sofa behind him.

“Mummy?” he called and you looked up from the papers at him and smiled.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“How did you and Daddy fall in love?”

Your son's sudden question took you by surprise, leaving you stunned for a few seconds. But you soon found yourself chuckling and ignoring your work to pay attention to the boy. 

“Why the sudden curiosity, Cam? That's pretty out of your character, you know.”

Cameron shrugged.

“I just want to know how you and Daddy met.”

Smiling softly, you nodded.

“Very well. Let’s see… It all began a long time ago, when mommy was sentenced to the Fortress of Meropide,” you narrated in a reflexive tone and waved for Éveline to come closer to sit next to her friend.

“Back then, mama wasn’t the person she is today, you see. I was rude, I was always angry, I picked fights with anyone who crossed my way and I didn't let anyone get close to me. You could say I wasn't a very nice person to be around, and because I was in prison, it also meant I wasn't a good person either.”

“I simply couldn't get used to life down here as most of the prisoners do, nor do I could accept the sentence that was given to me. Therefore, I rebelled in every way I could and participated in the fights in the hope that someone would see some value in me and would send me back to the capital. But, well, at that time we had a not very nice director and the inmates cared more about themselves than about others.” 

“Lo and behold, a year passed, your dad ascended as Duke and I was still hoping to be able to get out of here.”

“But then, the night of a new duel had arrived and barely I knew it'd be a night that'd change my life forever. It was the night I finally met your dad. Or better saying, where he became interested in me.”

“I remember it was a quick fight. I was already assured of victory but my opponent decided to bravely face me anyway. Although I was no longer the girl I was a year ago, I was still merciless in the face of a rival. Mostly of the Pankration Ring’s regulars knew my name because I made of it my reputation. That was one of the reasons your dad went to watch the fight that night. He wanted to see who was the person who was sending dozens and dozens of prisoners to Sigewinne,” you smirked at the kids making them giggling. 

“When the fight ended, he came to me wanting to know more about me and asking all kinds of questions. Nevertheless I wasn't interested in relationship, preferring to stay away from every one of the Fortress. Furthermore, I had an exclusive grudge against men so I couldn’t stand his person,” you paused the story to see if Cameron would react negatively to this detail but the boy only seemed more interested by it. 

“I don't remember very well what I said to him, however, it was clear that I wasn't interested and didn't want any kind of flattery from him. Needless to say it didn't work because your dad is as stubborn as a mule.”

“From that night, Wriothesley made a promise to himself to get closer to me and he fulfilled it very well as he kept following me everywhere.”

“It was extremely annoying and I couldn't understand what his curiosity about me was. After all, when I first arrived here he had never shown any sign of acknowledging my existence, so why at that moment?”

“Even though I still didn't understand him and tried at all costs to escape his sight, Wriothesley always found a way to find me and include me in his conversations. It was irritating to get so much attention from the new director of the Fortress of Meropide, and it was even scarier for me not to know what was his intentions either. But, over time, I got used to his presence and even started to yearn for it…”

“A couple of months later I dared to ask him why he insisted on getting closer to me,” you snorted at the memory as a small smile stretched your lips.

“What did he say?” Éveline asked curious.

“He said he wanted me to know that even though I kept pushing everyone away from me, he’d always come back. Because even though I thought I was doing better on my own, no one deserves to be alone and remain unseen.”

“It wasn’t the answer I expected but I felt like all my feelings—all the frustration, anger, sadness, and pain I was carrying at that time were validated, and he was seeing each of them.”

“After that, it took a while longer for me to accept that there was someone who cared about me, but I slowly opened my heart to him.”

“When I finally came to terms with my feelings, I still tested Wriothesley's loyalty a little bit more. I must say it was worth it to see him working hard for two years. Nonetheless, he was and still is the best choice I’ve ever made,” you finish the story and the children clap excitedly making you laugh in amusement.

Unexpectedly, a third person also claps and you see the said person leaning against the stair railing, smirking at you—probably he had been there since the beginning of the story.

“So you mean that all that time I was trying my best to have my feelings acknowledged you were testing me? That hurts, doll.”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to the children who were entertained by the scene. 

“Just like I’ve said. It was worth each second.”

Neuvillette

“Mummy, daddy. How did you fall in love?” Éveline asks suddenly as she makes her presence known in your husband’s office, making both of you stop your tasks to stare at her.  

“I was playing with Cam today and he asked his mama how she and Monsieur Wriothesley met and fell in love, and it was a very nice story! I want to know how you and papa met and fell in love too!” she says with a rare enthusiasm that makes you chuckle and Neuvillette smiles fondly.

“My my, if my beautiful Line isn’t curious today, huh?” you tease your daughter and leave a quick peck on her pale cheek soon after. “Well, let me see… Everything began when mama was sentenced to prison,” you chuckle when Éveline's blue eyes widen. 

“No need to get your little head stewing with that, angel. It was years ago and mama didn’t stay there too long either. You see, your mom used to do some… inappropriate stuff and I ended up going to trial for that.” 

Neuvillette snorted softly from his desk.

“Inappropriate is a very polite way for your mom to say she used to be involved with a lot of illegal matters, darling,” Neuvillette pointed out with a small smirk himself as he stopped his reading to stare at you. 

“Oh, shush you, Neuvi. You say that as if it was an unforgivable crime when it wasn’t,” you roll your eyes in fake annoyance making Éveline giggle, “As I was saying, angel. Mama went to trial and, of course, your papa was the only one to conduct it.” 

“You see, I already knew who was he—actually, who didn't? The just and benevolent but impartial Iudex of Fontaine. Although, I had never seen him in person until the day I had to show at court.”

“At that time I’d never admit it but I was very anxious to meet the head judge of Fontaine. When you get involved in reckless things, you think you're smarter than everyone and will never get caught, but little did I know that your dad had been tracking and watching me for ages.”

“And then when I finally stood in front of him, my nervousness strangely disappeared and became more like a curiosity. After all, I had only heard about the Iudex's morals and not his personality much less his appearance, so it was clear to everyone at the court that I was very intrigued by that man standing above me.”

“As the trial proceeded, he gave me a five-year sentence in the Fortress of Meropide which I managed to reduce by eight months for good behavior,” you winked at your daughter who kept listening to your storytelling, dazzled. “Not only did I refuse to be there in prison away from my own business, but I felt more motivated to return to the surface to learn more about your dad.”

“When I finally got back to the city, I used all my means to get your dad’s attention again—which actually worked several times since he likes to keep an eye on Fontaine’s order.” 

“Then, the months were passing by and my curiosity and interest just kept growing. And suddenly, I caught myself falling in love with all the things I was learning about him.”

“Even though it was fun to use of wrong ways to get the attention of the man you like, it was also tiring. And that situation was also reaching a point where I felt like your dad wasn't giving me the signals I was expecting him to do, so I was also getting stressed. Maybe he isn’t as fond of me as I am of him, that was what I thought.”

“Nevertheless, I'm a very resilient woman. I didn't let myself sink into self-pity, much less feel sad about the lack of reciprocity in love so I opened a new business here in the capital saying I wanted to live a peaceful life, and see where it’d take me. Fortunately here I could make great friends, a lot of associates, and even more trades.”

“And contrary to my guessing, Neuvi eventually started to visit my store where we had more appropriate interactions and talks, much for my joy.”

“I kept falling in love with him every day, you know? Thankfully your dad is a gentleman and he didn't take too long to ask me on a date. From then on, we became almost inseparable. That’s our story.” 

As you finish your love story, you could see your daughter’s eyes sparkling like two beautiful gems and a huge smile shining on her face. It made you happy that she enjoyed the story of how her parents met instead of getting mixed feelings by it—after all, the things you still do are better kept hidden until she’s older enough to understand them. 

You and your family kept talking about the said topic for a while, but eventually, you had to say goodbye to them to leave for a meeting with some partners from your business which you already were late for.

Unbeknownst to you though, Éveline and Neuvillette who were still in the office, shared your love story once again. But this time, it was a version you still haven’t heard.

Perhaps you'd never know either as it became a secret shared only between father and daughter. 

“I fell in love with your mom at the very moment I saw her.”

Lyney

The twins' little nimble footsteps could be heard throughout the house before it took them to the kitchen where you and Lyney were busy cleaning the lunch dishes. 

“Mommy, mommy! Uncle Freminet just read a book to Quentin and me and we want to know how you and Daddy fell in love too!” exclaimed Corinne, smiling excitedly. 

“Oh my. That was quite sudden,” you laughed as you dried the last dish of the day and put it away immediately to give your full attention to the children, “I bet it was a very romantic book for you to be so excited about.” 

“It was!”, they exclaimed together making you and Lyney laugh. 

“I don't see why not, then. It may not be as exciting as the tale Freminet read to you, but I think you'll like it too,” you say sitting at the table and placing Corinne on your lap while Lyney does the same with Quentin. 

“Well, I think our story is much more charming than the one in the book that Uncle Freminet read to you,” replies your husband, sending you a wink, “You could say that like a fairy tale, the magician prince fell in love at first sight with the most beautiful princess in the entire kingdom.”

“Back in those days, a troupe of nomadic artists traveled throughout Teyvat bringing joy and laughter to their audiences. It was your mom’s family.”

“They traveled across all nations enchanting its residents with their music, acrobatics, but especially with their dance. And, believe it or not, they had never come to Fontaine until that day.” 

“As a lover of the art of entertainment, I had to see for myself what a performance by the Pathfinder’s Troupe would be like, they who had a reputation that extended beyond the stars in the sky! Furthermore, as a colleague in the same department, I also wanted to give my final verdict. But truth to be told, daddy was just a little bit of jealous because of all the attention mama’s group was getting at that time,” he made a face at this specific memory that made you and the kids laugh. 

“So when the night of the show came, I finally understood why they were such a success. All the troupe members had a bright, warm smile, seeming to love what they were doing. The music was loud and happy and even though you didn't know the language they sang in, you wanted to join them. It was a simple show, but funny and welcoming.” 

“But then when it came time for your mom to take the stage, there wasn't a person in the audience who wasn't dazzled by her. Including me,” Lyney pauses as he smiles at the memory running through his mind. You smiled back. 

“It was, and still is, the most beautiful performance I had ever seen. Not only did your mom look like a goddess at that moment, with her traditional clothing, makeup, and gold jewelry, but she mesmerized the audience with her movements.” 

“Unfortunately, her dance didn’t last long and she soon left the stage, thanking us all for our presence.” 

“Like several people enchanted by that beautiful dancer, I tried to approach her to say my compliments but—whether you two believe it or not, daddy was scared to death.” 

“Why scared Daddy?” asked Quentin. 

“Mama was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of her, much less offend her with my words,” Lyney replies to which the two children nod as if they understood. 

“Luckily, daddy always had a secret or two up his sleeve, and when I approached her, I did a little magic trick turning a tiny spark of my vision into a Rainbow Rose, which at the time I thought was my worst trick but it seemed to make your mom happy.” 

“It was the most genuine and sweetest gesture anyone had ever made to me,” you extend your hand to your husband across the table and he takes it, placing a light kiss on your palm. 

“We didn't have much time left together since she was traveling back to her hometown the next morning, and nor did I have the courage to invite her to dinner either, something that caused me deep regret and even made Aunt Lynette annoyed.” 

“But before she left, I promised I’d see her again. And, luckily, a few months later, she and her troupe returned to Fontaine to perform a new show.” 

“And then you said you loved each other?” Corinne asked innocently.

You and Lyney laughed, “No Rin. Far from it actually. Your dad could barely get close to me without him stuttering something indecipherable, turning around, and disappearing into the city streets,” you teased your husband which made him feel embarrassed. 

“What can I say? You always seemed to get more beautiful each day and I had never been interested in anyone before. Besides, there were a lot of suitors vying for your attention so I figured you wouldn’t be interested in me.” 

You roll your eyes in amusement, “And look where we are now.” 

“So how did you start to love each other?” Quentin asks, still in doubt. 

“After many failed attempts by your papa, he finally managed to invite me to dinner—which I accepted without thinking twice. After that, he felt more confident talking to me and asking me out,” you say, “But there were also many times when we were away from each other due to our work.” 

“I knew I loved the troupe and I loved being on the road traveling and performing in different countries but I was also in love with your papa. When I was with him… I knew I had found a home. So I left the troupe, came to Fontaine, confessed my feelings to him and, fortunately, he confessed me back.” 

“And since then we have been living happily ever after. The end!” Lyney jokes and you and the twins giggles again. 

“So! Did you like the story?” you ask. 

Corinne is the first to nod eagerly. Her beautiful purple eyes shone like two amethysts in pure joy towards her parents' love story. 

Quentin in turn… 

“Meh. I thought Daddy had fight a dragon to save you.” 

You and Lyney stare at each other for a while before laughing loudly, catching the attention of Lynette and Freminet as they enter the kitchen. 

Yeah. You couldn't deny it. Fighting a dragon seemed more exciting in this case.

Kazuha

“It’s more precise to say that love has fallen on me,” Kazuha said as he sat Kazumi on his right leg and little Kiyomi on his left. His children looked at him with a confused expression making him chuckle. 

“It was a long time ago. We were sailing on the waters east of Mondstadt when I felt an unknown agitation being carried by the wind currents.”

“You should know that it’s pretty rare to face sea creatures nowadays due to fishing, but at that time, it was an occurrence we faced quite often so we should've always be prepared for it. And as part of The Crux’s crew, it was my job to stay vigilant, so I immediately informed our captain and mates to stay alert and careful for a possible attack—although I must say I wasn’t alarmed as I should be. Something in my instincts told me to not be afraid,” he smiled at the memories. 

“Then, as if to confirm my predictions, we saw a shadow crossing the skies and falling not soon after. No one seemed to react in time, however, I had instantly prepared myself with the help of my vision for whatever was coming to us.” 

“That was when your mom fell directly into my arms, surprising everyone on the ship because I had just saved her life from a free fall after one of the wings of her wind glider broke,” the kids gasped and he kept softly smiling at them.

“I feared that your mama had hurt herself during the fall but when she finally looked at me she was giving me that gorgeous, bright smile of hers. I think it was at that exact moment where she had my heart.” 

“Until that moment I had never seen someone so beautiful in my life. She looked stunning, wonderful. As radiant as the first sun ray of the morning.”

“I could see she was thanking me for saving her life as her lips kept moving, but all I could do at that moment was stare at her, completely mesmerized. It was quite impossible not to be that one who was falling in love at that very moment.” 

“After that, she started accompanying us on some journeys and even took us on some of her adventures. I was in love with her free spirit, yes, but even more so with her person. It didn't take long for us to get closer, and starting to date her was as natural as having her in my life.”

“That's our story. It is still being written, however, this time we have you, our most beloved children, to share our memories with.”

As he finished it, Kazuha noticed the dreamy and joyful expressions on both children's faces. Kiyomi seemed the most enchanted by the story since she had inherited the romantic spirit of both her parents while Kazumi pretended to be unimpressed when in fact, inwardly, he was eager for more details of it. The patriarch couldn’t hide his amusement at the view. 

Both siblings showed excitedly their enthusiasm towards their parents’ love story with some funny and cute comments here and there which, eventually, drew your attention to the living room they were in.

When you walked in with a baby Haruki sleeping in your arms, your family stopped their conversation to stare at you which made you raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“What? Am I interrupting something? I heard a loud noise coming from here and came to see what you two little things were up to.” 

Kazumi and Kiyomi looked briefly at each other before giggling cutely. 

“Otochan was telling us the story of how you met and how he fell in love with you,” your daughter responds excitedly. 

This immediately brings a smile to your face, making you walk over and sit on the couch next to them, adjusting Haru comfortably in your arms as you lean towards your two older children and husband. 

“Oh, I love this story! Did you guys know? I literally fell for your dad!”

Kaveh

It was late at night and you and Kaveh were putting Zahra to sleep. 

Normally, you and your husband would take turns with your daughter's nighttime routine so that the tasks wouldn’t be exhausting for only one person. 

However, the little girl had woken up sick that morning and had demanded her both parents' attention all day, acting more whiny than usual. So it wasn't unexpected that she also asked for both parents to be with her at bedtime.  

Lying in bed with Zahra, you stroked her blonde curls as she snuggled into the warmth of your embrace, happy for the attention she received. In turn, Kaveh was looking for a book from her mini library to read to her, although you could tell that he was having a hard time making the right choice since none of the options seemed to catch his daughter's attention. 

“Umm… We have The Boar Princess, Flowers for Princess Fischl, and The Fox in the Dandelion Sea but Daddy doesn’t know if you want me to read one of those titles again,” Kaveh showed her the books but Zahra denied them.

“No! Daddy already read The Boar Princess yesterday and I don't like Princess Fischl,” she responds grumpily, which draws a sigh of defeat from the architect. 

“Okay, I'm out of ideas. Azizam, I need help here.” 

You giggled softly but went to your husband's aid, “Well... How about we change the scene a little and tell you a different story?”

Zahra's eyes suddenly widened in curiosity and she nodded enthusiastically. 

“How about if we tell you something new? Something that doesn't even exist in books. The story of how Mommy and Daddy met!”

Kaveh, also seeming to brighten at your suggestion, takes the other spot on your daughter's tiny bed and wraps his arm around both of your waists.

“Ah, this is one of my favorite stories,” he comments, sending you a small smile. 

“It’s better than The Boar Princess, mummy?” asks Zahra excitedly. 

You laugh, “Much better than The Boar Princess, sweetheart. Honey, how about you do the honors?” you suggest in a mischievous tone that catches Kaveh off guard, but seeing that you weren't going to budge and his little princess seemed increasingly anxious, the architect cleared his throat before starting to recount about the day he finally met you. 

“Let’s see… It was at a time when life was a bit of a rollercoaster for me.”

“You know, I’ve always been very passionate about my work and have always dedicated myself to the maximum to bring my projects to life. I was ambitious, hard-working, and had dozens of clients but I was also quite ignorant. It didn't matter how great my desire to build houses and palaces was, or how strong were my inspiration when my wallet didn't match my reality. Neither did my mental state...” 

“Then one day I received a letter. It was the Liyue's Tianquan inviting me to participate in an exclusive civil construction project and my participation in this event would be of great honor.” 

“When I saw that opportunity, I grabbed it without thinking about the consequences. After all, it wasn't every day that I received a chance like that, and even though my work had a certain popularity, not all clients were able to follow my ideas. So I imagined that being in a foreign environment with people who apparently valued my projects would be like reaching the purpose I wanted. Plus the paycheck seemed to be rewarding too.” 

You snort in amusement at his last comment. 

“So I went to Liyue and soon I was in a huge meeting room with professionals coming from all Teyvat. As the project meeting continued I found myself increasingly out of place by the suggestions my colleagues were making. They were so closed-minded. When they’re thinking about time, I wanted quality. While they wanted cost savings, I wanted to do something to make the people involved in that construction feel worthy of a home. It was disappointing and I was starting to get sick of that place.”

“That’s when your mama decided to speak out,” the man’s eyes twinkled briefly. 

“Unlike those people who had simple and selfish ideals, your mom was brilliant, confident, and bold. Not only did she catch the attention of the men in that room with her beauty and elegance, but it was certainly her intelligence that captured the hearts of many that day. Including mine.” 

“Until that moment I hadn’t given my opinion, but knowing that one of the main people in charge had a similar vision to mine, I felt excited to give my ideas. It was one of the moments I felt most anxious too.” 

Zahra frowned, “Why Daddy?”

“I think at that moment I got it into my head that your mom had high expectations for me and I didn’t want to disappoint her.” 

“But luckily that wasn't the case as she seemed to approve each of my ideas. That’s how we ended up forming a partnership.” 

“As we worked together, I found myself liking her more and more. At the time, this was also a big obstacle for me as I didn’t like mixing my professional and personal relationships.”

"But— aah, your mama had a way of enchanting me every day. She appreciated my work and my dedication. She encouraged me to think bigger and challenged me to be bolder not only with my work but with myself. Somewhere along the way, our nightly sessions turned into conversations about life, ambitions, and even our struggles.”

“A few months later, when we finally finished the construction, I felt brave enough to confess my feelings to her, and guess what your mom said, Zaza?” 

“What? What did she say Daddy?” she asked expectantly. 

“Mama said she wouldn’t accept my feelings until I sorted my life out,” he huffed making you laugh and your daughter look at you in disbelief. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Zaza. At the time it was the right decision to make. I was already in love with your papa as much as he was with me, but I knew he wasn't ready to get into a relationship when he wasn't okay with himself. I wanted someone who could provide me security and was confidence in themselves, and your daddy didn’t have those qualities.”

“Ouch, azizam. You don’t need to rub it in!” 

“I’m just saying.”

Kaveh sighed resignedly, “Anyway, she said she wouldn’t accept my feelings but would wait for me as long as necessary.” 

“After that, I returned to Sumeru but this time determined to prove myself to her. I used every means possible to resolve my financial, family, and personal issues. I worked tirelessly to find my path and build my own home. And almost two years later I traveled back to Liyue. But this time I was sure I wouldn't leave without my girl, and so I did,” he finishes the story, and you clap softly while Zahra smiles tiredly. 

“It was a great story, azizam,” you comment, smiling, “But I think now it’s time to finish for today because our little princess needs to sleep well to wake up better tomorrow.” 

Kaveh looks at his daughter's sleepy eyes and agrees. 

You place Zahra back on her pillow and cover her with the blanket, placing a kiss on her forehead—Kaveh copying your gesture soon after.

Saying goodnight to the girl, you and your husband leave the room together, leaving the door ajar the way she liked it. 

On the way to your room, you couldn't help but notice how Kaveh looked so down and you frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

He clicks his tongue and turns his face to the other side, mumbling, “I was just thinking you didn't need to say that I didn't look confident back then, you know? What about now, azizam? What will my own daughter think of me? She’ll think I’m lame!”

You roll your eyes. 

“You surely look lame now.” 

“Hey!”

Alhaitham

The heavy oak door creaked softly as Alhaitham entered the house, his mind finally relaxing after a long day at work. 

Right in the living room, the scribe identified your very focused presence with what he presumed to be correcting tests and homework. So as not to make his arrival go unnoticed, Alhaitham approaches and gently touches your shoulders, making you jump in scared. 

“I’m sorry, habibti. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says and you smile at him. 

“It’s okay, dear,” you reach for his hand and squeeze it in greeting, “But you should learn to make a little more noise, Haitham. Your presence is as subtle as that of a cat. Anyway, welcome home.” 

Alhaitham kisses the top of your head, “Thank you. Where is Hakim?”

You frown and look around the room but don't identify your son's presence anywhere.

“I am not sure, to be honest. He was here with me until a few minutes ago but I don't think watching his mother work is that fun. Maybe he's painting in his room? If he had gone out to play with the twins, he’d have told me,” You conclude. 

Your husband nods, but the faint gleam of recognition in his eyes announces that he already has an idea where the child could be. 

“Very well. I’ll change my clothes first and I’ll make us some tea right after, okay?” 

You nod in thanks and turn your attention to the paperwork while Alhaitham disappears through the halls of the house. 

Instead of making his way to your shared room, the scribe heads to the door of his office where he finds it ajar. Not surprised, Alhaitham approaches and through the small opening observes the brightly lit room as Hakim makes himself comfortable on the floor leafing through a specific book but surrounded by dozens of others—which he assumes have fallen to the floor as his son tried to reach them from the highest shelf. 

A mixture of fatherly pride and affection surfaced beneath his stoic exterior. 

Clearing his throat lightly, Alhaitham approaches with measured steps, not wanting to scare the boy.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he announces making Hakim jump in fright, just like his mother did. Alhaitham snorted in amusement. 

“Sorry Baba. I know you don’t like anyone touching your things, but I was going to tidy everything up later.” 

“It’s okay, Kim,” he replies calmly and sits down in the armchair located in the middle of the office, “What are you reading?”

Hakim smiles adorably showing off the book he was so interested in and Alhaitham couldn't help but chuckle. 

“It’s a cool book!” comments the boy, “I can't read what's written because there are lots of strange letters and drawings but they're cool too.” 

“I expect so. After all, your mother wrote this book.” 

Hakim’s interest peaks, “Really?” 

“Yes. It's one of my favorite ones, by the way. It was through it that I met her”, he pats his thighs inviting Hakim to sit on his lap which the boy accomplishes happily. 

Hakim leans back against his father's warm chest, hugging the book affectionately, “How did you two meet, Baba?”

Alhaitham was silent for a few seconds before letting out a reflective sigh. 

“It was at the same time that I was holding the position of Acting Grand Sage”, Alhaitham began, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. 

“Sumeru was going through great changes due to everything that had happened and, inevitably, Akademiya had been one of the main places affected by it. I ended up temporarily taking on the role of the great sage out of respect for Buer's wise decision, although it wasn't exactly the job I was looking for.”

“There were many responsibilities, many commitments, and daily there were dozens of issues to be resolved due to years, centuries of bad motivations. So you can imagine how exhausting it was to rebuild an entire institution from zero and be that person that people followed orders.”  

“Until one day your mother suddenly appears as a new candidate for the position of professor in the Darshan of Haravatat.” 

“I hadn't met her at first since our paths never seemed to cross. Yet the words in the halls of the Akademiya were always the same: the new professor was like a breath of fresh air in that old institution—beautiful, kind, with a passion for knowledge that matched her beauty.”

He paused, remembering the scene as if it were yesterday. “One afternoon, I found myself in the library again, buried in a book—absorbing all that knowledge with a hunger that had previously been unknown to me. Little did I know that it was her book that I was reading. Such insight, elegance, and dedication to details had uniquely captivated me.”

“I was pretty engrossed in the text when I heard footsteps approaching,” Alhaitham continued, with a hint of amusement in his tone. “She stood by my side and gently asked about the book, curious to know what I thought, and so our conversation began.”

“We didn't talk much that day as I was a much more reserved person, but she was exactly as the scholars’ whispers described her. Through the brief talk we had, I was able to explore philosophical thoughts and complexities of life that I had never explored before. Your mother had a way of drawing out my thoughts, of making me see beyond the surface and into the depths of existence. That’s what attracted me to her in the first place.”  

“As days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, we met at the library quite often. Our discussions deepened, and with each talk, I found myself opening up in ways I hadn't before.”

“I think she knew back then that she had caught my attention, although it took her a little longer to realize that she had stolen my heart,” he chuckles softly. Hakim smiles in delight.

“We began spending more time together beyond the Akademiya strongholds, exploring the world around us. It made me realize how much I wanted her in my life. In that same way. Every day." 

“And then one night, in our quiet sanctuary in that very hallway in the library, I told her those exact words,” Alhaitham's voice softened with love.

“She smiled that radiant smile of hers that illuminates even the darkest corners of my soul and said she felt the same way. At that moment, Hakim, it was like the stars aligned and everything fell into place.” 

“That’s how I met your mother, Kim. In the silent corners of knowledge and amid the pages of her wisdom, our love story began—a story woven with understanding, respect, and a bond that grows stronger with each passing day.”

Alhaitham ends the story with a slight smile to which his son imitates him, admiringly. 

“I hope one day I can meet someone like you and mama did, Baba.” 

The scribe smirks in amusement, “I hope for the same, child.”

Not long after, you made your entrance into the office carrying in your hands a tray with three cups of tea and milk and Hakim's favorite cookies. 

“I knew you boys were hiding out here,” you smile at your husband and son, completely oblivious to the story they just shared. “Come on. Let’s eat while the cookies are still warm.”

Cyno 

The whole family was gathered in front of the fireplace reviewing some photos that you had captured and saved over the years. 

From your days as an eremite to the twins' first steps, every moment was recorded in several photographs that you kept with the greatest care so that, from time to time, you could remember them again with a nostalgic feeling. And currently, this was one of those moments. 

Aryan and Isaar were having fun with some older photos of Cyno, courtesy of Cyrus, while you and he organized the rest of the albums back into the box they belonged to. 

It was a serene moment, of pure bliss and harmony. Something you wish you could capture with your kamera again, but you'd rather enjoy just being with the people you loved most. 

“Hey Mama, what picture is that?” asks Isaar, breaking you out of your daydreams. 

When you recognize the black and white, slightly blurred image, a giggle couldn't help but escape your lips. 

“Aah, it's from our first date,” you reply happily, “If I'm not mistaken, Dehya and Candace had followed us that day and took this one. Nobody could believe that the emotionless and unapproachable General Mahamatra could go on a date with a beautiful girl, so I think they wanted to have proof that this day happened.” 

Cyno snorts and the twins nod in understanding, smiling at each other. 

“How did you and Baba meet?” Aryan asks shortly afterward, still mesmerized by the photo in his brother's hands. 

You and Cyno locked eyes briefly and a mischievous smirk crossed your face as the flicker of a smile curved his lips. 

“Well, you boys won't believe it, but it all started when I defeated your baba in a fight.” 

The smile on Cyno's face immediately disappeared, being replaced by an expression of slight unbelief and confusion. “You didn't defeat me, hayati. I remember very well that it was a draw.”

You made a slight grimace as if you didn't believe the blasphemy your husband was saying, which left him more incredulous than before, and your children quite amused. 

“These are irrelevant details, my love. Let’s pretend you never said that.” 

“Anyway, I was a different person back then,” you continued, your eyes shining with a mixture of mischief and pride. “Living according to my clan's philosophy but in a more devious and rebellious way, if I may say so. I wanted to chart a path in a way that’d only suit me.” 

“I used to do several illegal jobs for which the matras already persecuted me for, but it was deceiving the young and naive scholars from Akademiya that amused me and made my reputation grow among its guards. No need to give me that look, boys. Mama only took them to forbidden ruins and mausoleums in exchange for extra money,” you added the last part as you received strange looks from the twins. 

Cyno, seeing the scene, snorted in amusement, “You’re not helping yourself, hayati.”

“If they want to hear the true and complete version they better be prepared to hear what happened,” you wrinkled your nose. 

To save you from more possible judgments, Cyno resumed the thread, his deep voice cutting through the room. “I was immediately informed about the incidents that were occurring with certain frequency, and tasked with restoring order. It was supposed to be a job easily accomplished even by the lowest ranking among the matras, but not only were your mom’s activities not within the law, as no officer was a match for her strength either. Many scholars had not been discovered of their misconduct thanks to her,” he admitted, a slight affectionate smile crossing his face. 

His subtle compliment made you shy. 

“And just as your dad’s reputation preceded him, he tracked me like a bloodhound,” you said with a hint of admiration underlying your words. “Until one afternoon I caught myself off guard on the outskirts of the Sobek Oasis and he appeared announcing that he’d take me to the capital so I could have my punishment. I found him incredibly attractive at that moment, but I wasn't going to give in so easily either. In the end, we ended up fighting,” you giggled remembering the duel. Two forces of nature colliding: fire and thunder. 

“It was a draw,” Cyno resumes saying it again, “Although I must admit your mom gave me a bit of a hard time. It was my first time facing a formidable opponent who was equal to me—I dare say even superior to my abilities.” 

Isaar, the more curious of the twins, leaned forward, eyes wide with excitement, “What happened next?” 

You exchanged a knowing look with your husband, silently communicating with him. 

“Well, sometimes life surprises you,” you respond cryptically, reaching out to ruffle the child’s hair in affection. 

Cyno's gaze softened imperceptibly as he continued, “Our paths continued to cross after our first meeting. While on one hand your mom seemed not to give up what she was doing, I felt increasingly motivated, challenged to stop her—after all, not only was this affecting the performance of the Akademiya students, but it was also tarnishing the reputation of the matras who weren’t managing to deal with that situation.” 

“But as time passed and we kept facing each other, we also came to an understanding. Sometimes behind the clash of wills, there is a common thread. That’s how your mom and I realized we were stronger together than we were apart.”

Aryan, although quieter but no less attentive, absorbed his father's words with a thoughtful expression. 

“So, it was like fate, Mama?” he mused aloud.

You smiled warmly at your children, your heart filling with maternal pride. 

“Maybe it was. In an unpredictable way, but woven by the hands of fate,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of years of shared history and love.

As the night progressed, you and Cyno continued to tell the twins your stories of adventures, challenges overcome, and the unshakable bond that had been born in infertile soil and blossomed into a deep, beautiful and lasting partnership. 

[btsugarush]

GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

Taglist

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[wasteddmoondust]

little family || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 1,258 words, single mom! reader, established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF, kid fic, maybe i just crave domesticity a/n: back to back fics like who is she... (had this in the drafts for a WHILE) omfg guys this was soooo crazy indulgent I'm gong crazy no i did not proof read but i hope you like it anway

Remus is just about to leave work when he gets the call. He sees your contact name pop up on his screen, Y/N <3.

"Hello?" he says when he picks up the call.

"Hi, Re," you reply. You voice sounds rushed and anxious. "Do you happen to be free today?"

"I am, love. What is it?" he asks softly, stopping in his tracks to listen to you.

"Something came up at work today that I have to stay and handle, could you pick up Lyla from daycare?"

Lyla, a little girl equivalent to a ball of sunshine. Though you had only been dating for over a year, he sees her as his own.

"Of course I will. I'll bring her back to yours?"

"Yes please, thank you so much. I'll buy takeout for dinner when I'm done. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go pick her up now."

He hears you heave a sigh of relief over the phone. "I appreciate you so much, I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

Remus reaches the daycare and realises he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He walks by the window and sees Lyla colouring in her classroom. She notices the movement and looks up from her drawing. He can't hear her through the window but she's jumping around and cheering at the sight of him, waving excitedly.

He waves back at her, smiling, then notices one of her teachers gesturing to meet her at the entrance.

She gets past the gate to the classroom, leaving Lyla behind. "Hi, I know you're here for Lyla but since you're not her mum I'm going to need your ID," she says pulling out a file from one of the shelves.

He pulls out his wallet and gives it to her and watches her scan a list of what seems to be names of parents of the children.

She takes a few seconds and finally says, "Ah yes, Remus Lupin. You're on her list. I'll get her for you." He watches the teacher look into the classroom and call Lyla.

And then he realises. He's on the list. He's on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare. You put him on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Lyla's voice. "Remoose!" she yells, running up to him.

"Hiya, angel," he says and picks her up. His heart melts as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck for a hug. "Mummy will join us later, but for now it's just you and me, okay?"

"We can watch TV?" she asks. "And then- then play toys?"

"Mhm, that sounds like a good plan," Remus replies, and they head to your home.

Later, you turn your key to your flat and open the door. You can hear the television playing a movie and the sound of your daughter's laughter. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room.

Remus is covered in the fake makeup from Lyla's child-friendly kit. His hair is also adorned with little flower hair clips. He sits cross-legged on the floor while she sits in his lap.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun without me, hm?" you say. Lyla jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately running to you.

"Mummy! Remus fetched me today!"

"I know, darling," you kiss her cheek. "I asked him to. Did he take good care of you?"

She nods aggressively. She runs back to Remus, who is already walking up to you.

"Well don't you look pretty today," you tease. He smiles and breathes a soft laugh.

"My makeup artist is talented. She's very serious about this," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You hungry? I can heat up dinner."

"That'd be great, and then it's time for this bug to go to bed," you pick up Lyla. "Isn't that right?"

She lays her head on your shoulder, visibly getting sleepy as it gets closer to her usual bedtime.

"Say good night to Remus?" you turn your body, so she faces him.

Remus bends down to kiss her hair, "Good night, angel."

Lyla slowly closes her eyes, "G'night..."

Putting your baby to bed goes smoothly, and she easily winds down as she is tucked into bed. She snuggles into her blanket and looks up at you.

"I like it when Remus fetches me from school," you hear her mumble.

You smile at that. "Really?"

She nods. "I really like Remus."

"I really like Remus too, darling."

"I think you get very happy around him, Mummy," she whispers. "You were not very happy last year, but now I see you be happy with him. So I'm happy."

You feel your heart do something. Jump? Lurch? Lyla was right, being a single parent comes with its challenges and you can admit a lot of late nights were spent biting your nails and wiping tears from your cheeks. You tried your best to prevent her from seeing you in that state, but you know she's observant enough for her age.

And that's why you're so thankful to have met Remus. He accepted you despite the fact you had a whole child. He saw you not only as you but also as the mother of your child. He understood that Lyla would always be a priority to you over romance (unlike most men you've met). Despite all its complications, he has been able to fit into your lives as if he's already meant to be there.

A prime example could be taken from today. Surely he could've said no to picking up Lyla from daycare, he's just her mother's boyfriend, after all. But he agreed and handled the rest.

"He does make me really happy," you say to her. "Does he make you happy too?"

"Mhm! He always plays with me and watches shows with me. He also hugs me and kisses me. He makes me happy. He's like my Daddy."

You chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart is going crazy at that. Somehow, you take the leap. "You want Remus to be your Daddy?"

"Can I call him my Daddy?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow," you say, and you wonder what his reaction would be.

"Okay, I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Mummy."

You kiss her forehead, "Good night, darling."

You walk out of her room to see Remus placing your plate of food on the table for you. Without saying anything, you approach him and hug him. He hugs you back.

He is silent for a while, swaying your body slowly as you hug. "You were in there for a while, what were you talking about?" he mumbles into your hair.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, chin resting on your chest. "I love you," you say.

He furrows his brows but nods anyway. "I love you, too."

"Lyla wants to call you her dad."

Remus stops swaying. What is he thinking?

"Okay," he says, simply.

You jerk your head back, "Really?"

"Of course, I love her too, you know. I'd be honoured."

Chuckling, you bury your head into his chest and squeeze him. You feel him press a kiss into your hair.

"We're like a little family," he whispers to you. And you can see it too. You, your daughter, and Remus altogether as one.

And there's honestly nothing you want more than that.

a/n: SO LIKE UM this has been in the drafts about the same time as the james one like i said this is just very very indulgent brainrot i still have plans for the james series!!!!!!! ty sm for your support <3 likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (7)- Recruitment

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 2.7k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Chapter Warning: Dark thoughts, anxiety, brief reference to torture

—

"You wanted to see me?" Natasha says as she strolls into Nick's office, him requesting her presence as soon as possible. The redhead ditched the mission reports she was doing to come and see the Director, having a feeling this was something far more important.

"How are things progressing with our Soldat Smerti?" he asks as his eye is trained on her, his expression blank as he doesn't want to give away his ideas. Natasha also keeps her face stoic as for some reason the name he called you bothered her, did he not see that your name was Y/n on the file she submitted?

"She's open to talking more, still very hesitant and cautious but that's understandable for someone who's been institutionalised for a large amount of time, especially someone who was maltreated," Natasha replies, having spent more time with you over the last couple of weeks, still delivering your food but also trying to get you to talk more, expressing how you weren't going to be hurt here.

"You have taken a liking to her," he says, a little out of nowhere, catching the redhead by surprise. "You would have made your assessment by now but you seem to be waiting for something," her jaw clenches subtly, not liking how somehow this man was always able to have some sort of read on her. "What are you waiting for?"

"She wants to accept our offer," Natasha answers honestly, the man's smile sneaking onto his lips as his own plans were falling into place, the assassin unaware of his ideas. "She's just scared."

"Do you think she could be an Avenger?" He asks and she pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about his question. She could see that same glint in your eyes that she had when she was first rescued from the red room, that hopeful glint that you would be able to be more than what they made you, but at the same time the fear of betrayal hovering at the back of your mind.

"In time, yes," Fury moves to stand from his chair, moving to lean against the front of his desk while Natasha stands in front of him, her arms crossing over her chest as the man ponders for a moment.

"Why are you so sure about her?" Natasha watches the man's curious gaze, his hands resting against the wooden desk as the redhead responds to her boss.

"When Clint didn't take his shot against me in Budapest, he told me that he had this gut feeling about me, that I could be more than what they made me," Fury listens with interest at Natasha's words, remembering the mixed emotions he felt that day when Clint disobeyed his orders but helped saved what would soon become one of his most valuable agents. "I have this same feeling about her," she confesses and the man knows not to take this lightly, the Russian never letting her emotions affect her work, renowned for her professionalism.

The room lingers in silence for a moment, both figures letting the weight of the situation settle before Fury speaks up, a plan having formed in his head.

"Talk to the team about her being potentially recruited, see what they make of it," he says and Natasha is a bit suspicious as to why she was doing it, Fury normally taking the lead on these types of situations.

"What are you going to do?" she asks and he just chuckles at her scepticism.

"I'm going to talk her into accepting our offer," he says, the smile now visible on his lips as he sees the small one tugging at the redhead's lips, "See you soon Romanoff."

***

"He wants to do what?" Steve's tone laced with disbelief as he braces his arms on the kitchen island, having just finished making a smoothie after his morning run.

"He wants us to give her a chance," Natasha answers, the super soldier letting out a sigh before taking a large sip of his drink, the rest of the team gathered in various places around the common room, listening in to the conversation.

They were all up to date about you, brief knowledge of your past and known abilities being sent to them all in your file once you were brought back into the base and put in the glass cell. They knew you were powerful and loyal, so the question was would you be able to betray Hydra and trust them.

"Why should we do that? She's done nothing to prove she won't just try and kill us all," Steve says, still bitter about the pain in his side, multiple ribs having been broken during the last encounter with you, the moment where you almost decapitated him also being added to the list as to why he wasn't fond of you. "She's powerful and dangerous," he says, caution in his tone as he tries to get his point across, "She's also clearly not in control."

"She needs our help," Wanda cuts in, taking a few by surprise as she tended to stay quiet during conversations like this, only speaking once someone asked her opinion. "We can help her, that's what we do right? As Avengers?" Her words settle in a few, Natasha smiling at the brunette woman and nodding her head subtly in appreciation.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Tony says, finally speaking up which was unlike his character, normally first to voice his opinion in literally anything. "I agree partly with the old man," he says, earning a disapproving look from Steve at the nickname, "We can't be sure it's safe. Statistically, the chances of her losing control or hurting one of us is extremely high."

"See someone who agrees-" Steve tries to say, being cut off by the billionaire.

"I haven't finished Capsicle," he says, a mocking smile on his lip at the other nickname he called Steve who just glared at the man. "But since when has anything we have done been safe?"

"That's because of you Tony," Steve mutters, "You're the one who always puts us in these situations,"

"Last I recall, you were the one who wanted an ex-hydra brainwashed murderer to join our team, what's different about this one?" Steve's jaw visibly clenches at Tony's description of Bucky, the brown haired man making a valid point though. You were extremely similar to Bucky, if they could help him, why couldn't they help you?

"Bucky's different," he grits out, defending his best friend while everyone else in the room notices the tension rising in the atmosphere. "I know him."

"Knew," corrects Tony, "You knew him, Hydra changed him."

"This isn't about Bucky," Natasha cuts in, not wanting a proper fight to break out between the two, the billionaire lacking the care of stepping too far over the line, Steve being far too defensive about his friend. "Look at the facts, yes she's hydra but how many of us here have a past we want to forget, we want to put behind us? She's no different to some of you when you first joined, so why should we put that against her?"

Everyone listens as Natasha takes control of the room, Clint hiding a smile at his best friend and noticing this was her moment with you. She wasn't taking her shot with you just as he did her.

"As Steve said, she's powerful, we need that if we want to stop Hydra and any other threats."

"Since when did you do the speeches Romanoff," teases Tony, already making his mind up about his stance on your potential recruitment to the team. "How about we have a vote?" he says, using his typical cocky voice to get the other's opinion, "Who thinks Y/n should join?"

In his usual manner, Tony playfully raises his arm, making a show of himself before looking around the room to see who else agrees. Wanda raises her arm up shyly, Natasha doing so more confidently, just not as dramatically as the billionaire, Clint also raising his hand up as he trusts Natasha's gut feeling about you, the rest of those in the room, being Steve, Bruce and Vision, Sam and Thor currently not available, keeping theirs down.

Steve goes to protest, but the sounds of footsteps can be heard, interrupting the conversation.

"Well, I'm glad the vote went in our favour," Fury says as he strides into the room with authority, the room going quiet as they see you standing by his side, face stoic to mask your nerves.

Everything was so loud, the electricity buzzing around the room, the tv playing in the corner, the sounds of fists clenching, bodies tensing, hearts starting to race, it was all too loud. It was overwhelming. Steve's heart in particular started to pound against his rib cage, the memories of your last encounter causing him to be tense and on edge, your gaze meeting his blue for a split second before flickering away.

They think we're a monster. They're scared and they should be.

Taunts the darkness, your mask slipping for a second, showing a brief sense of doubt behind your eyes before your face returns to being stoic, mind fighting the gnawing corruption and forcing it to be silent.

"Meet Y/n, your new teammate," Fury says nonchalantly but also in a tone that leaves no room for argument, a few shocked faces as Natasha said potential teammate, not someone who would be joining instantly.

"Fury..." Steve's voice dies out with the glare sent his way, your eyes fixated on the view out of the window, everything else seeming to fade away.

 The compound overlooked acres and acres of field and forest, the sun gently shining down onto the grass causing it to look vibrant, the simple sight of nature almost a phenomenon to you. Too busy staring out of the window, you miss the small smile that creeps up on Natasha's face, Fury going to have a private word with a few of the team while you slowly made your way towards the windows.

You could feel a few people staring at you, your mind trying to stop the racing thoughts and focus on calming down, not wanting to have some sort of panic attack from all the attention on you. You had to block out the incessant heartbeats, the signs of their fear and tried to focus on the steady one nearby. Only once you turned your head did you realise that it was Natasha who was calm, casually walking up to you as you turned your head back to admire the view.

"It's beautiful," you whisper, not used to having such a clear view of outside your surroundings. You were used to concrete walls surrounding you, or even glass ones in a secure room, not the large windows that practically filled the entire wall, displaying the wonders of the outside world.

"It is," she murmurs back, turning her gaze from you to back outside. The others watched from the distance as you two stood near the window, Natasha talking to you while you made sure to memorise every detail you possibly could about the view. "What made you accept the offer?" she asks, curious as to what Fury must have said to you to get you to finally accept it, her emerald eyes scanning over your relaxing features.

Before you can reply, the sound of Steve's voice becoming louder interrupts the moment, Fury's stare hardening at the super soldier.

"This is going to go wrong, it isn't the right move," he says in warning before grabbing his smoothie and leaving the room, shaking his head as he enters the elevator, "I thought we did things as a team Fury, made decisions together."

"You did and you were outvoted," Fury replies and Steve just scoffs at the idea they were using a random voting method to decide your place on the team. He doesn't bother arguing back, letting the doors shut, Fury dismissing everyone and asking for you to join him in the kitchen, away from everyone.

"Remember our deal," he says, tone serious as he addresses you, "Any indication that you're not being honest with us, and you're straight back in a cell, don't make me have to do that Soldier." You nod in understanding, eyes flickering over to a glass on the table, your reflection staring back at you.

What have you done? This was a trap.

Get us out now. If you don't do it, I will. I won't be merciful.

The darkness claws at your mind, your stare going blank for a second as Fury continues to talk to you. The man notices how you seem to grow distant for a second, blinking before returning your attention towards him.

"I will leave you to adjust to everything," he says, catching the nervousness in your eyes and assuming it was from the new environment, not your broken mind. He knows it will be hard to adjust, but he has faith in the rest of the team to help you, especially after the talk he just gave them.

With Fury gone, you're left to sit alone, basking in your thoughts as Natasha holds back with Wanda, watching how the witch seems to be able to hear some of your thoughts while also keeping an eye on you, reading your body language.

Your leg bounces steadily, fingers gripping the glass a little too tight, her brows furrowing at how anxious you seem, never having showed signs like this when you were with her in the cell.

They're always going to be scared of the Soldat.

They sneer, your fingers loosening around the glass as you can feel it straining, about to shatter, the darkness laughing at the close call of losing control already.

You're going to snap. Lose control. This will all be for nothing because I will get out. I will get out and do what needs to be done.

You remain quiet, not in the position to be able to snap back at the darkness, letting them taunt and tease you, trying to get you to lose your composure. You had to learn how to deal with them, how to keep them under control, otherwise they were right. You would snap.

I can't wait to watch the life drain from their eyes, to watch them suffer.

Your jaw clenches painfully, their words purposely trying to rile you up, to prove Steve right that you were dangerous, but you don't react as Natasha comes to sit next to you. She sees straight through the small smile you send her way, Wanda having quietly told her that your static-like mind was growing louder and you needed some sort of distraction, and decides to inform you of the plan for the rest of the day, Fury having told her before he left.

"You've got a busy day ahead of you," she teases softly, emerald eyes matching her tone as she watches you fight yourself internally, your gaze eventually turning to meet her gentle one. "I'll show you around the compound first, then it's medical tests quickly and then showcasing your skills so we have a better understanding of your abilities, is that alright?"

"Medicals?" you say, hesitation evident in your eyes, Natasha's gaze going to your fingers , how they subconsciously trace your veins where you were most likely tested on before.

You can remember the agony you felt from all the injections they forced into you, the searing pain that felt like it was burning you from the insides, test after test, torture after torture, you didn't want to go through that again.

"We just check your vitals to make sure you're healthy," she explains, still watching how your fingers moved to trace a scar instead, your mind still processing something.

"Would I be alone?"

"I'll be there with you," her tone reassuring, the redhead noticing how you visibly relax, hands dropping to your sides to rest. "Now come on, we've got an entire compound to go around," she says with a playful smile, standing up from the chair and motioning for you to follow her, ready to give you a tour of hopefully your new home. 

[deadghosy]

💋 MATTHEO WITH A FRIEND WHO IS CUNTY 💋

Pair: platonic! Mattheo riddle x fem! Reader

Mentions: drugs mostly.

A/N: would recommend any Ayesha song while reading this to get in the mood. You can ignore the song I choose😋💕 I appreciate reblogs, comments, and such as likes.

Most likely you two verbal argue a lot to the point mattheo wants strangle you, but the thing is you’re winning every single argument.

You bedazzle your school uniform which makes people turn their heads. Whispering how “disturbing” your uniform looks. But you honestly couldn’t give a fuck. Mattheo thinks it cool so it doesn’t matter.

You and mattheo are like thing 1 & 2. You two are double trouble. 😭

Random small insults at each other or just throwing things is soooo on the table.

“I can't help imagining how much awesomer the world would be if your dad had just pulled out.” You said while filing your nails. You couldn’t give a shit what Mattheo was ranting about since he got into another fight. Mattheo then threw his black shoe at you. “Oh you bitch!” You yelled ready to throw a glass vase at him

Theodore and Enzo had to hold you two back as mattheo was smiling crazily whilst you were cursing him out in every book. A vein popping out as you thrown the vase and it barely missed the poor riddle.

You and Mattheo smoking and rolling blunts at night are the best nights. Because all you two do is laugh at anything and make fun of people passing by the window.

What Mattheo likes about you is your quick insults and comebacks if someone tries you.

“I don't know what your problem is, but I'm guessing it's hard to pronounce.” You say shoulder checking a girl that had tried to start a fight with you. Mattheo was from afar smoking with a grin. The girl then tried to punch you from behind only for you to flip her on her damn back. You’re muggle born, so why not show what a muggle born can do.

After that Mattheo who also do things muggle ways, asked you if you can teach him. You said yes because he’s your homie.

During dinner with friends, you sipped your glass with an annoyed face stuck to your face. You didn’t want to be here since you could’ve been sleep while blasting music. Mattheo noticed this and almost bursted out laughing. But if you caught him you would’ve stomped on his foot hard with your high heel.

Slytherin parties are so poppin' with how you got the good stash of drugs and weed. You’re nicked name the “drug queen.”

I imagine you and mattheo just standing in class. You both having crossed arms looking like you just woke up pissed. You two are the iconic duo.

Usual you two just hit each other out of nowhere. Small fights, nothing too big. But someone is always there to watch it go down.

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you’d gotten enough oxygen at birth?” Mattheo rolled his eyes before flipping the hood of your cloak on your head. “Hey!” “Shut up bitch.” That’s when you elbowed his stomach, making him knee to the ground. Draco from afar watching that, sighed and walked away.

When you guys didn’t have to wear the uniforms. You best bet you wore 00’s clothes and juicy couture. Most girls wanted to know what fashion you were wearing and most were just hating bitches.

You walked into the common room wearing juicy couture. Mattheo looked up from his phone, annoyed at how you haven’t answered his messages. “Yo, you haven’t been answering my calls or texts bitch.” You roll your eyes sitting next to him on the couch. “Well I’m sorry that I can fashionably late.” You say with annoyance dripping from your lips. “Fuck is you wearing?” Mattheo had now noticed what you were wearing. You smile tugging at your top. “Juicy couture.” “You look like a whore.”

You blocked mattheo and never talked to him until he grew a pair and apologized. Which he did since you are his only close female friend he ever had.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[spockandawe]

Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

[yeonbinwyd]

been away

pairing: sub fem!reader x softdom!yeonjun

synopsis: you and yeonjun had been fwb for while. It’s one of those nights he needed a fix although you’re trying to cut him off but you might be addicted too

genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni, aggressive sex

word count: 2,218 words

“hey” is the text that you received. It was 1:50 am and your bright phone screen woke you up. You look and it was none other than him. The same him that always texts you at this time of night. Half awake, you glance over at your phone. “u up?” A second one comes in. You roll your eyes and turn away from your phone. You didn’t want to keep indulging in these activities with jun but it was a habit you couldn’t break. Maybe not paying attention to them would answer your problems. A few minutes had passed and you felt a bit of relief. Your phone started to ring and panic started to rush over you. Do you pick it up? Deep down inside, you wanted to see him again. To feel his touch again. To feel his embrace again. Even for just a short encounter. He made it clear that he can’t commit to you. At first, it was fine. It was just. Nothing more nothing less. It’s been going on for months though. How much longer can you tolerate being one of his girls. It felt degrading but you would much rather just drop him than even express how you’ve been feeling towards him. In a bit of a spiral, you realize the phone stops ringing. You take a look at the screen just to see his unnamed contact show up. You know that number but you refused to add a name to it. It would mean something to you. While glancing at the missed call, you gain your senses and find yourself fully awake. Without a second to think, the phone rings again. He knows he can get you. He knows you’ll pick up and you do.

“Hello?” You manage to answer.

“Hey baby girl. You awake?” He asks. You take a long pause before responding.

“You should stop calling this late” you say with a bit of hesitation.

“Why? You sick of me now? You know I can’t get enough of you and you can’t stay away.” He says with much confidence. It drives you nuts but he’s right. You couldn’t get enough of him and it made you crazy. You pause again, trying to find the right words to say.

“Should I come over?” He questions. He knows you’ll say yes and is already ready to leave. He just needs you to say the word and he’ll be there.

“Come on. I miss you. It’s been a while and I’ve been away” he tries to convince you.

“Ok. You can come by” you finally respond to him.

“I’ll be there soon” he disconnects and doesn’t waste any time. Your gut filed with utter confusion. Deep down inside, you were excited and couldn’t wait to see him but also you thought,

Nothing would change

Not even fifteen minutes had passed and you heard a knock on your door.

You opened the door to see Yeonjun standing there, towering over you and taking in your body. You wearing a thin, simple tank and tight shorts. What you always sleep in but he always found a way to sexualize everything you do. Whether it would be you bending over to pick something up or even brushing your teeth, he would be staring. It almost felt uncomfortable how entranced he was with you. Not wasting any time he pushed you up against the wall leaning down to look you in the eye.

“Hey baby. You missed me?” He looked you dead in the eye with the biggest smirk. You can tell he came from being out. There was eyeliner on his eyes still and he smelled of alcohol.

“Why is your first thought to hit me up when you finish drinking?” You glared back.

“Aww you’re mad at me huh? I missed you though.” He tilted his head to one side, his arm still keeping you trapped under him. You remained unshaken while frowning your brows. He softens his gaze and takes a step back

“Ok I’m sorry. I won’t call you this late anymore.” He says while holding his hands up while backing away and admitting guilt. You rolled your eyes

and cross your arms as you turn from him. You lead him into the living room. He trails behind you, watching your every step, mesmerized by the sheer movement of your body. As the two of you take a seat, he sits down and grabs your thigh. One of his favorite parts of you.

“So where did you come from?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Yeonjun asked, reacting slowly to the question.

“Where’d you come from?” You ask again. He scoots a bit closer to you and grips your thigh tight.

“Oh just drinking with some friends. I had a show too” he responds with confidence. He moves his hand to trap it in between your closed legs. He could feel your warmth building up. He’s testing the waters and doesn’t want to make you more mad than you already are. He noticed that you weren’t reacting to his touch which gave him the go ahead.

“Did you miss me since I’ve been away?” He asked. You didn’t respond but instead looked the other way.

“I get it. You’ve got your own thing and have your own life. You don’t have time to miss me.” He starts. His hand wanders under your shirt. His cold hand make you jump a bit as he feels up you stomach. After that you relax a bit and he continues moving upward. He makes eye contact with you. “But you miss this…” he continues. His hand now cupping your breast. Yeonjun gives it a gentle squeeze. You wince while biting your lip. Satisfied, he continues by pinching your nipple, giving it a flick. He waits for your reaction but you refuse to be responsive. He decides to pinch a bit hard to get something out of you. A small moan escapes your mouth. He smirks then shakes his head. Now pulling away, he chuckles a bit at your despair.

“I knew you missed me.”

He pulls you on his lap. His hard on pressed against you. You’re now facing him and his precious lips. It’s obvious he has a lip stain from the makeup early in the day but it still drew you in. Both hands trail along your spine and draws circles on your back. “You can’t escape me now” he grips your waist and leans in close. So close for a kiss but he just takes you in. He sees the want in your eyes but you’re hiding it well. He presses light kisses along your necks and collarbone. He won’t kiss you first. He wants you to beg for it or make the first move. He locks eyes with you. What will your move be ?

Eyes locked. His hands moving from your back now to your thighs. He sits back taking you in again.

What is she thinking? He thought.

You caved and placed both hands on his chest, leaning forward. You kiss him on the mouth which leaves him a bit shocked. He gets it together kissing you back. Small kisses turn into a tongue war as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He shifts his focus to your neck while leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone. He finds a spot where his lips can stay muzzled into your skin. He takes the chance and leaves small bites and tugs a bit at the exposed skin. You cry out with a moan so loud he didn’t expect it. It fuels him, tightening his grip around your waist, shifting his kisses from your shoulder to your breasts. Yeonjun can’t contain himself and buries his face in your chest. You start to moan and he raises his hand up to cup your mouth. He looks up at you. Excited and ready for more.

“We’re just getting started.” He lifts you and switches to be on top of you. As you’re lying down flat, he pins your arms above your head. He has an even better view of you. Every curve. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Without wasting any time, he slides his hand down your shorts to feel your wet pussy, just grazing it. You gasp a bit at his cold hand. He smiles even bigger grin than before. He’s proud of how wet he’s already made you. His finger flicks your clit a bit causing you to fidget a bit. His other hand still pinning both of yours down hard so there’s no fighting back. You kick your legs a bit but it causes him to flick more aggressively.

“Nuh uh ah. No fighting back.” He slips his finger in between your folds to feel your wetness. His eyes widen a bit and he takes his hand out. He licks his fingers in amazement.

“You did miss me. Mmmm you taste so good.” He quickly puts his hand back in your shorts. This time with wet fingers. Without hesitation, he sticks his fingers inside. You thrust your head back in pleasure,biting your lower lip. He can’t help but chuckle leaning in close to your face. You release your lips to adjust to him getting close to your face, making eye contact now. He applies more pressure to his hand inside your hole. At this point he’s teasing you like he’s just keeping his hand warm. He starts palming your clit. You moan under your breath then sigh.

“Come on beg. I wanna hear you ask for it” he demands. You shake your head and refuse.

“Ok that’s fine” he takes his hand out and removes his other hand from holding your wrists back. Yeonjun smirks while leaning back. The abrupt halt is brought to your attention. You sit up on your forearms to meet eye to eye with him. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity. The eye contact is so intense, it’s silent between you two. You knew he wouldn’t continue if you didn’t corporate.

“Ok please.” You beg.

“Like you mean it .” He retorts. You sigh.

“Please keep going. I miss you.” You enthuse.

“That’s a good girl. I miss you too” Yeonjun coos. He pushes your legs up, spreading them at the same time giving himself the best view. It pushes you back flat on your back. He licks his lips before diving in. Yeonjun licks your clit. He doesn’t waste any time. He flicks his tongue rapidly to really stimulate you. He begins leaning in to push your legs forward so you can’t fight back.

The pressure started building making your legs shake.

“Oh god” you cry out. He begins to suck on it forcefully. Yeonjun would take glances at you. Seeing you whimpering and almost in tears was driving him insane. He would get harder by the second. He slipped his tongue inside your cunt, taking in all the wetness coming from you. Trembling, you grip the pillow you had nearby, muffling your screams. Yeonjun, himself, couldn’t stand the teasing any longer. He lets your legs go and stands to his feet. In a swift motion he unbuckles his jeans and boxers in one go. His raging hard on, standing tall before you. You sit up once more but he meets you with a kiss. He grips the back of your head, pushing his tongue, forcing you to get a taste of yourself.

“Don’t you taste good?” He whispers into the kiss. He takes shirt off next then positions himself at your entrance. Every time you see him, you’re surprised at how big he is. Without any warning he plunges inside of you. You’re taken back a bit. Yeonjun moans lowly, gripping your hips. Your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrusts. Very fluid movement as he keeps at a steady pace, he’s been craving you for a while. He can’t stop, he won’t stop. Yeonjun presses his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes tight. You’re overwhelmed with how aggressive he’s being. Tears began building up in your eyes. He sees your tears and kisses them away but isn’t letting up.

“It’s ok baby. I’ll take care of you” he comforts mid kisses. Sitting back up, he grips your ankles. He’s much deeper now and can feel himself getting close but he shifts his focus so he can last longer. He looks to the ceiling but you grab one of his hands to start sucking on his finger. The sight along was putting him over the top. You could feel it too, clenching around him tight.

“Yes please.” You beg. He wraps that same hand around your neck and chokes you lightly. More tears leave your eyes as you cum. He feels you climax, unable to contain himself. He yells out y/n, spilling himself inside you. He collapses beside you while the two of you breathing heavy, in a trance. You manage to come down from your high first to sit up.

“Round two?” You ask.

[senjuci]

A Chance Encounter - Iwaizumi Hajime

╔══════════════════════╗

If there was anything you knew for certain, it was that you hated Mondays. You had back-to-back lectures all morning, and all you wanted to do was curl up and rot in your bed for the next 3 to 5 business days. 

But instead, you had to head down to an appointment at the Athletic Therapy Centre on campus. Your gaze lifted from your phone to see a small group of your teammates huddled by the entrance.

“Y/n!” A voice called out, your gaze shifting over to where Kori stood. You smiled, walking over to the woman and stopping at her side. “Is everyone just waiting here for their appointments?” You questioned, receiving a nod in response as your eyes drifted over to the doors leading to where all the athletic trainers were. 

A woman stepped out holding a clipboard and gently tapped her pen against it before looking over the crowd. “Y/n L/n, Kaito Suzuki and Kori Brown?” The woman stated the three athletes shuffled over to follow her inside. 

“We have to do this every year, I stopped growing when I was like 17, I don’t need them to measure my height again.” Kaito scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest, leading to a snort falling from your lips. 

“That’s because you’re worried about finding out you’ve shrunk Mr. 5’4.” You replied, receiving a glare in response from Kaito, and a laugh from Kori. A soft grin was still present on your face as you looked around and took in all the new faces that had joined this year. Lots of sports science and kinesiology students would do internships for the school year in the department, so it was no surprise to see a lack of familiarity heading into the room. 

It didn’t take long for your eyes to land on him. There was quite frankly, no way he was real. He looked like he had been sculpted by the gods. His tanned skin, short spikey brown hair and olive green eyes. But what drew you in most was his smile. The way his eyes crinkled slightly as he laughed, you were sure your heart skipped two, no three beats at that sound. 

“I’m in love Kori.” You state simply, Kori rolling her eyes in response. “You don’t even know his name Y/n.” She responded as you shrugged your shoulders. “That’s okay, whatever it is I’m sure it will sound good with mine.” You say, Kori shaking her head as she hears one of the doctors call her name and leave you standing in the middle of the room by yourself. 

It didn’t take long before you locked eyes with the man, a slight look of confusion in them as he noticed you staring. But after a small glance over you, and seeing the blush that rose to your cheeks, he gave you a small smile before returning to his conversation. 

“Y/n? You’ll be with me today.” Dr. Brennan, one of the Athletic Therapists whom you had worked with the year prior had said. Nodding in return, you walked over to where she stood, taking a seat on the bed. “How have you been? You have been keeping up with your practices over the summer?” She questioned, not fully paying attention to you as she flipped through the file with your name on it. 

“Yep, been doing my stretches too don’t worry.” You respond and receive a smile from the woman. “Good. Now, you said you were also having some wrist pain as of late, so I have left a bit of room after the assessment to check that out,” She explained as she looked up at you, "But as you have probably assumed I have a new student interning with me this semester, and he’s going to be helping with your assessment if you’re comfortable with that.” Dr. Brennan explained as you nodded your head in response. 

“Perfect. Hajime? Can you come help me?” She called out, a yes maam being yelled in return from somewhere behind her as the Doctor stood up. “Y/n, this is Hajime Iwaizumi, my intern. Hajime, this is Y/n L/n, they’re on the fencing team.” The doctor explained, your gaze lifting to be met with the man from earlier. You could see the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Nice to meet you Y/n. I look forward to working with you this season.” Hajime stated as you gave him a smile in response, your heart beating so loud you could hardly hear his words. “Likewise.” You state, your gaze drifting back over to the doctor. 

Normally, you hardly ever have issues talking to people. You were quite a social person, and easily got along and made conversation with anyone you met. But Hajime Iwaizumi? He was like your fucking Kryptonite and you had only known of his existence for what, three, four minutes? 

Hajime, why don’t you take them to the stadiometers?” The doctor suggested as Hajime nodded, gesturing for you to get off of the bed and follow him. Silently, you trailed behind the man admiring his physique from behind as the two of you arrived at the tool. “Stand underneath it with your back straight please,” Hajime asked as you stepped forward and straightened your back, watching as Hajime gently lowered the small weight down so it would rest on top of your head and he could read the results. 

Your gaze stayed trained on him, watching as he bit his lower lip slightly while reading the results and jotting them down. His gaze had yet to lift from the paper when he spoke up once more. “You know, with the way you keep staring at me it gets a bit hard to focus.” He told you, glancing back up to meet your eyes. 

You smiled widely in response, waiting until he lifted the weight up so you could step off of the Stadiometer. “I only stare when there’s something worth looking at.” You tell him in response, watching as his cheeks become dusted with a rosy hue. He is silent for a moment, turning back around before gesturing for you to follow. “Let’s head back to record your results.” He told you, a small giggle falling from your lips as you followed him. 

The appointment had gone much too quickly, and you had been prescribed some cream for your wrist as well as some stretches to do to increase your wrist flexibility. Dr. Brennan had already moved on to another one of your teammates, leaving Hajime to write up the exercises on a sheet of paper for you on the other side of the room. 

You watched him quietly, kicking your feet back and forth while you sat on the bed waiting. Hajime set down the pen, straightening up before walking back over to you, keeping his gaze trained on the desk just in front of you. 

Walking up to you, he cleared his throat and held out the paper, his head turned to the side as he spoke. “Here are the stretches I would recommend for you to do. 3 repetitions of them each day. If you have any questions about them, you can either email Dr. Brennan…” he suggested to you, a hesitancy in his tone as he trailed off “Or you can text me.” He stated. 

You gently took the paper from him, seeing that he had added his name and phone number underneath the prewritten email signed on all of Dr. Brennan’s papers. If it was possible for your cheeks could’ve gotten any more red, they did. “Thanks, I’ll make sure to.” You reply as you stand up picking up your bag that you had placed on the ground earlier. “Bye Hajime.” You mused, the man giving you a relieved smile as he waved goodbye. 

You quickly made your way to the entrance, seeing Kori already there waiting for you, but you didn’t say anything. Instead, your eyes were glued to your phone as you typed in Hajime’s number into your contacts and quickly sent him a text. 

‘I’ve already forgotten how to do a few of the stretches, would you mind showing them to me again?’

After clicking send, you see Kori looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s got you in a good mood?” She questioned as you sighed in response. “I just met my future husband. That’s all.” You tell her as she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever you say Y/n.” Kori tells you, as you feel a buzz in your back pocket from your phone. 

Grabbing it, your face lights up as you read the incoming text from none other than Hajime.

 ‘How does 8pm tonight sound? I can refresh your memory over dinner.’

Maybe Mondays weren’t so terrible.

╚══════════════════════╝

This is my first fic I know she is rough on the edges but I've had this scenario rotting in my head for like months at this point

Likes and Reblogs are so so appreciated!!

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Secrets That Whisper & Shout

Pairing: Moonknight trio (Steven mainly) x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: idk brief mentions of violence

Genre: fluff & minor angst

Summary: you are extremely intrigued by your neighbor and the voices you can sometimes hear in his head because of course your neighbor seems extra susceptible to your powers

***

It's an interesting way to live life, being able to see into people's minds. To alter their memories, control their actions, hear their deepest inner thoughts even if you're not trying to sometimes. It can be weird but you just try your best to live your life normally. Right now the biggest hindrance to your delicate balance of normal is your neighbor. He lives across the hall for you and unfortunately, for some reason, you keep finding yourself inside his mind. It happens when you let your mental guard down for a little too long. You've always compared people's minds to houses, or offices full of filing cabinets, your powers give you a key basically but it seems like your dorky neighbor's mental door is never closed let alone locked.

The weirder part is what you hear when you do find yourself in his mind. For most people, the voice in their head sounds like them- and while you've never really spoken to your neighbor, you know for a fact there's no way he's simultaneously a nervous Brit, a cocky American, and a grumpy Spanish speaker. There are three voices in his head as opposed to one, they speak to each other and seem entirely independent of one another. You haven't intentionally done any snooping in his mind but you can imagine his mental filing cabinets are entirely different than any you've been in. It's not really your business though so you never look into it. No matter how curious you are about how and why he has three voices in his head. 

You know very little about your neighbor. From accidentally listening to his mental debates you think his name is Steven. The other voices have names too but you're unclear who is who because you've never stuck around long enough to discern that. He's not very social and only leaves his apartment for work or errands. He hardly ever takes phone calls and he never really calls anyone- except, around the time you moved in he used to call his mom pretty often but you think she never answered and eventually, those calls stopped. The strangest detail you've realized is sometimes he'll sneak out of his apartment, through the window and you have no idea where he goes or what he does but he's always back within a week. You don't mean to keep tabs on him, sometimes you cast your magic out to scan for threats and you'll notice the lack of presence in the apartment across the hall.

He's a curious case, your neighbor across the hall, and today you've decided you're going to bite the bullet and speak to him. Your curiosity about him is the main reason and you hope that being able to assign personhood to the voices you hear will quell it even a bit. You cross the hall and knock on his door confidently before you can convince yourself not to on one Saturday afternoon when you know he's home. You checked first. There's some shuffling on the other side of the door and eventually, it opens a bit hesitantly but it opens.

"Hi! My name is y/n. I live across the hall from you." You say, your chosen tone is friendly but soft.

"I'm- Steven. Can I help you?" He asks sizing you up.

"I hope so! I was baking cookies and even though I went to the store before I started I guess I didn't make a complete list of things I needed because it turns out I actually don't have enough sugar so I was just wondering if you had any I could borrow by chance?" You ask. You are baking, but you also definitely have enough sugar, it just seemed like the simplest way to initiate conversation. A bit cliche but it's a classic for a reason.

"You want to borrow sugar?"

"Yes. A cup if you have it." You hold up your measuring cup with a smile. Steven pauses for a moment before he answers.

"Sure. I've got some. Come on in I'll pour some for you." He says walking into his apartment. You follow him in glancing around. The studio style flat is full of books littered everywhere, it's the first thing you notice when you walk in. Steven takes the measuring cup from you and quickly grabs his container of sugar to pour some.

"Thanks so much! I'll bring by some cookies to repay you!" You tell him.

"Oh, no thank you. I appreciate the offer but I am vegan and I'm sure you don't intend to bake vegan-friendly cookies so-" He trails off with a shrug. You frown but make a note of the information. He's vegan. "I've never seen you before." He says after a moment while he puts up his bag of sugar.

"That's probably because you don't leave much besides for work. I've lived across you for over a year." You muse.

"Hey! I- I leave!" He turns to look at you.

"To do your laundry at the witching hour when you're the least likely to run into people?" You smirk a bit at him.

"No." He huffs.

"Thanks for the sugar, Steven. Hope to see you around more." You toss over your shoulder as you walk back into your apartment.

You do make a handful of vegan cookies for your neighbor, even though it wasn't your plan, after checking to find that it really is just a couple of minor changes, vegetable oil instead of butter, water or nondairy milk instead of eggs, and since you don't already have vegan chocolate you leave out the chocolate chips- at least according to the recipe you found. They're basically sugar cookies and you only make six for Steven, some of which you sprinkle with cinnamon to make up for their plainness, but you imagine they're a decent thanks for the sugar you borrowed- even if it was a ploy.

A couple of hours later, you knock on Steven's door again, this time with a small Tupperware container for the cookies you made him. He opens it again with the same confused frown after a few moments.

"Hi again! I know you said not to bother with the cookies because you're vegan but I wanted to say thanks anyway so- I adjusted my recipe to accommodate. They're sugar cookies except two of them are cinnamon, I wasn't sure if you like cinnamon so I didn't make them all cinnamon but the cookies are vegan. So, thank you, for the sugar." You say handing him the plastic container.

"You adjusted your recipe so that I could have some cookies?" Steven doesn't seem to believe the words even as he says them.

"Yes. I know you said I didn't have to bring any but I wanted to anyway. Since I did use your sugar to make them."

"Thank you. I appreciate the effort. I can't wait to try them."

"If you ever need anything, just knock." You tell him and wait for his cautious nod. "I'll be seeing you." You say leaving without waiting for him to agree with that statement. From then on, Steven does in fact make a point to speak to you more often. The first time is a couple of days later, he runs into you in the elevator and tells you he enjoyed the cookies. He'll definitely speak to you when he sees you around the building but it's on you to actually make plans if you want to see him otherwise and sometimes you do. You invite him out to lunch, have him over for tea, suggest movies to watch together, you even visit him at work every once in a while. The first time you went to his job you didn't even know he worked there, I mean he'd told you he worked at a museum but you never thought to ask which one, but once you knew he worked there you definitely made a point to pop in and say hi when you're around and he's working. It takes a while but you manage to build a pretty good friendship with him over the next few months to the point where you're hanging out a couple of times a week these days. In fact, he's supposed to be over later today to show you some movie he's been dying for you to see. For now, you're sitting on your couch reading a novel until he gets here. It'll be another few hours before he comes knocking at your door. 

You've really enjoyed getting to know him, more than you expected to honestly. He's as sweet and awkward as he comes off at first glance but there's something endearing about his gentle shyness even when he's raving about whatever thing has most recently captured his attention. You find yourself looking forward to the time you spend together more than you like to admit. You have no idea if your fondness is reciprocated to the same extent and you also have no idea how to broach the subject with him. Much like a skittish animal, you're always careful about how you make changes to your dynamic. It's something you try not to dwell on, if he likes you or if you'll tell him you like him and how to do so, things are good between you two and as they say, if it ain't broke don't fix it. 

Your head snaps up at the sudden rush of fear you sense. The book in your lap long forgotten anyway as you had been lost in your thoughts until the dread you felt in your very bones pulled you from them. It's not your own though, that panic, and you have to take a moment to pinpoint the source. You gasp when you realize it's coming from Steven. It's been a while since you felt someone's feelings so uninhibited and you rush out of your apartment before you can even consider a plan. He must be in trouble for you to feel his alarm this way. When you reach for his doorhandle you hear some sort of crashing sound inside and you force open his apartment door to find Steven evading someone attempting to corner him in the apartment.

"Steven!" You gasp when the masked intruder chucks some sort of dagger at him.

"Y/n?! Get out of here!" Steven shouts at you from behind the couch. You ignore him and charge the attacker by launching yourself using Steven's side table. The attacker can't react quickly enough to the kick that you aim directly at their chest and they go down hard. You don't give the stranger a chance to get up and strike either of you, taking advantage of their disoriented state you slip into their mind, 'suggesting' that they leave and forget they ever came here, forget Steven even exists and forget you while you're at it. When the masked assailant stands again they climb out of the window they came through without saying a word.

"Are you alright Steven?" You frown turning your attention to where he's frowning from behind his kitchen counter. When did he move behind the kitchen counter?

"What just happened?" He blinks at you.

"I am- a magical being of sorts-"

"Like a witch?"

"Something like that. I mean- I can do magic in the more traditional sense, like spells and such but most of my powers are telepathic. I can read minds and alter memories, reshape reality-"

"What?" You hardly register Steven's shocked exclamation.

"I mean that can take a lot of energy depending on the scale, like I obviously can't do it for everyone, everywhere, at the same time but like- I could say, make it look and feel like there are spiders all over this room." You shrug.

"Why would you ever-"

"Arachnids are a common phobia, it's gotten me out of some touchy situations." You say.

"That doesn't explain what just happened though." Steven shakes his head.

"Oh, I can control people if it comes down to it. I just- made the person leave and forget you exist."

"You can do what?!" His eyes widen.

"I don't use it! Usually. I've only done it a couple of times to protect myself or someone who really needed it." You shrug.

"And your protection was to force someone to do something else against their will?!"

"Hey, that person was literally trying to kill you! I could've taken the violent route instead but I'm not a fan of it!"

"So that man-"

"Doesn't remember being here, doesn't remember attacking you, doesn't even remember you exist. You're safe." You say.

"Holy shit."

"Look I wanted to be honest with you because I care about you but if this is too much for you to handle then- I will leave all I ask is that you keep my secret to yourself."

"You won't just... take it from me?"

"I don't want to. And I won't, unless that information in your hands becomes a threat to my life."

"Have you ever used them on me? Your powers?" He asks. You pause for a moment considering how to answer. Admittedly he doesn't seem to be taking all this super well, you wonder if it would be worse to just say no but looking at him you can't bring yourself to tell the lie.

"I have. Not- on purpose and nothing altering. No mind control or memory changing or reality reshaping- absolutely nothing that changed anything about you it's just that sometimes your thoughts are loud. You yell in your head a lot- in several voices. Sometimes I can hear them." You explain.

"You can hear them? The different voices?"

"Yes. I don't quite understand it but I never snooped I just- would leave when I realized it was happening again." You say.

"I think you should go." Steven says avoiding your gaze. Your shoulders drop for a moment that you're sure he doesn't see.

"I see. Alright but Steven-"

"Your secret is yours. I won't tell anybody." He says quietly. You nod although he's still not looking directly at you.

"Okay. If you need anything- my door's open. Otherwise, take care- Steven." You say and exit his apartment before he can respond. Steven's reaction hurts more than you'd like it to, you suppose you wouldn't have been able to keep the secret from him forever though. It would've come out eventually, especially if you got any closer to him as you had considered. 

The next two weeks are weird. Steven doesn't text you, or call you, or come over for tea or lunch, you make a point not to visit him at work as you are positive he's avoiding you based on the fact that he's clearly adjusted all of his habits so as to not run into to you around the apartment building. That- you think stings more than his initial reaction. To think he was so put out by your revelation that he no longer wanted to even risk seeing you... Whatever, you wouldn't dwell on it. The world keeps spinning. A sudden knock on your door interrupts you before you can focus back on what you were working on. With a confused frown, you walk over to the door and look through the spyhole to see Steven standing in the hall, and that surprises you immensely. For on that knock was sharp and harsh in a way you've never heard Steven knock on anything ever, but also for him to just show up at your door after 2 weeks is... unexpected. You pull open the door and lean casually against the frame.

"Hello." He nods and you immediately notice he does not sound like himself. You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Steven? Hi. What are you doing here? And- why are you talking funny?"

"I'm not Steven my name is Marc Spector." He says.

"Did you hit your head or something?" You snort crossing your arms in confusion.

"No? I'm perfectly fine."

"Right except your name isn't Marc Spector it's Steven Grant. Unless you've been lying to me since we met which- would certainly be interesting but I don't think that's what's happening here." You say.

"Not quite. See we have a... condition-"

"Do not tell me about what's wrong with your body!" You put your hands up to stop him.

"It's psychological." He says.

"Oh okay. Proceed." You say.

"It's called dissociative identity disorder. My mind is- fractured. Essentially this body houses more than one consciousness." He explains.

"This sounds very Jekyll and Hyde and if you're coming to me to say you're a serial killer I don't-" You trail off when suddenly something clicks. "Holy shit you're one of the voices in Steven's head!" You gasp. You knew he sounded familiar but you didn't pinpoint it until just now.

"First of all, it's my head okay I am the original. Secondly- Steven told you about us?!"

"If he did do you think I would sound as confused as I do right now? No, he didn't tell me anything. I just realized why I recognize your voice." You say.

"Recognize my voice?" Now he's looking at you like you're crazy.

"I can hear you sometimes. You are quite loud- especially compared to the other one."

"You can hear us?" His eyes are wide as saucers.

"Yes, never on purpose though. I'm a telepath. I can read minds and change memories and alter reality and stuff like that so- sometimes I can hear you- which by the way we still haven't answered the billion dollar question why are you here?"

"Steven has been moping around for over a week now and every time we force him to leave he looks longingly at your door so I came to find out what the hell you did to him because I swear-"

"I didn't do anything to him. I told him I was a telepath and he freaked. He's been avoiding me since. All on his own. And before you start throwing around threats I'll warn you Marc Spector that I could take hold of your entire fractured little mind without even breaking a sweat. So tread carefully if you're going to start swearing things." Your eyes narrow at him.

"He's been avoiding you?" He blinks.

"We talked about my powers, he asked me to leave, and so I did. Probably assumes I'll take advantage of him using them or something." You shrug.

"Well you did just threaten me."

"It wasn't a threat it was a warning. Besides I'd never hurt Steven, you I don't know and you did start a pretty menacing sentence that prompted me to- never mind."

"Now I'm confused. If he's avoiding you, why is he moping around the apartment?" He frowns.

"You're asking me. You're the one that shares a body with him." You say.

"Explain to me exactly what went down?"

"I was in my apartment and someone attacked Steven- I don't know who or why but could feel it so I went over to help and I used my powers to get rid of them."

"What'd you do? Launch him out the window?"

"No? I just made him forget about us and where he was but when he mindlessly climbed back out the way he came in without attacking us I obviously had to explain some things. I guess Steven didn't take it all that well." You shrug.

"That doesn't sound right. I think you should talk to him."

"I- don't think he wants to do that." You shake your head.

"No. No, this has gone on long enough. Hang on." Marc says.

"Marc seriously mind your-"

"Y/n?" He grimaces. You recognize immediately that it's Steven you're talking to now.

"Steven- one the uh- voices? Marc? He thinks we need to have a conversation. Does he make a habit of meddling in your life this way?"

"Less often than you might think but- I do owe you an apology." His head drops.

"What for, exactly?"

"How I- handled things before. I was... cold, it's just that when you said you could hear Marc and Jake I was worried about what else you-"

"I'm sorry, who is Jake?" You shake your head at him.

"The identity disorder thing- there are three of us as far as we know. Myself, Marc, and Jake." Steven says and you nod as you piece it together.

"Would it be presumptuous of me to guess that Marc and Jake are not your only secrets?"

"No actually. Marc is an avatar."

"Of what?" You ask. Steven's shocked confusion prompts you to fill in the gaps, "I've met avatars for each of the sins so, one of those maybe? Or a celestial body of some sort? The moon perhaps- I'm guessing you don't mean in the same sense as the cartoon boy because people with elemental manipulation do not refer to themselves that way in real life so-"

"Khonshu." Steven says when you trail.

"What?"

"He's- Khonshu's avatar."

"Egyptian God. Interesting. Correct me if I'm wrong he's the god of justice, right?"

"That's right." He nods.

"So the guy that was attacking you a few weeks ago was probably mad at him for- something related to that."

"Most likely. Can't imagine a museum guest putting a hit out on me for not having any more pyramid pens or something." Steven scratches the back of his neck and you chuckle a bit at his joke.

"Interesting."

"Look- that day, I wasn't sure if this was something I was ready to tell you. I've never told anyone this before, the only person that knows is Marc's ex-wife, so when you said you could hear our thoughts I was worried you knew more than just that there were voices in my head and- I'm sorry." Steven trails off with a sigh.

"So- what changed? Why are you telling me now?"

"Well Marc revealed himself to you." Steven says. "But more than that I just- really hate not being able to talk to you. I like my life way more with you in it but I- after how I reacted I sort of figured I'd earned my misery, that I didn't deserve your forgiveness because when you chose to trust me with your secrets I turned you away, I even judged you, instead showing literally any modicum of support of the person I care about. I made an ass of myself."

"I wasn't upset with you, you know. I mean as far as shitty reactions go yours doesn't even make the top 5. You didn't tell the apartment building to gather their pitchforks so- I count that as a win." You shrug.

"I would never-"

"I know." You nod. "While we're- confessing our sins anything else you wanna share?" You ask with a chuckle. Steven holds your gaze for a long moment and there's a brief second where you consider finding out for yourself what he's contemplating so hard, you won't of course, but the silence drags long enough to make you want to rescind the question. Eventually, Steven's hand grabs your arm and yanks you towards him. His eyes are so wide at the action you'd think he's not the one who pulled you but before you can ask him about it his lips are on yours. The kiss is short and a bit unsure but his mouth is soft against yours and when he pulls away still with that wide-eyed look you do nothing but blink at him for a moment.

"I- I'm so sorry that was- I mean Marc was- I didn't plan- I wasn't going to-"

"Steven." You place your hand against his cheek to halt his frazzled rambling. "Did you want to kiss me?" You ask.

"I've wanted to kiss you for months." He breathes.

"Then don't apologize. I've wanted to kiss you too."

"Really?"

"Yes so- I think I'm going to do it again." You say pausing long enough to give him an out. When his eyes flutter closed you take that as your sign to lean forward and connect your lips again. You're sure in that moment you could do this forever and you silently wish to whatever powers above that you'll have that long to do it as many times as you wish.

***

A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into an anthology (like There is No Right Way) of the moonknight trio dating a telepath because I think it would be interesting idk- anyone interested in more of this dynamic?

[girlkisser13]

for the first time

"it's just like seeing her" "for the first time" "again"

pairings: amelia shepherd x afab!reader

warnings/tags: angst with a hint of fluff at the end. mentions of amelia having a relapse.

summary: you reunite with amelia after she comes back from rehab.

the corridors of grey sloan memorial hospital held a familiarity that felt like home. the steady rhythm of beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and murmured conversations had been the soundtrack to your life for years. it was comforting, yet today, as you walked through the halls, there was an undercurrent of unease you couldn’t quite shake. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t been back in seattle for a while, or perhaps it was the uneasiness that always seemed to follow you since things fell apart with amelia.

mark had paged you for a consult. another reconstructive case that needed your expertise. you were good at this— rebuilding, putting things back together. it was what you did best, even if you couldn’t always apply the same skill to your own life.

you turned a corner sharply, your mind preoccupied with the upcoming surgery, and collided with someone. papers flew into the air like a cascade of autumn leaves, and you stumbled back, reaching out to steady the person you’d bumped into.

"i’m so sorry! i didn’t see you," you apologized, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered documents.

"no, it’s okay, i wasn’t looking where i was going either," a familiar voice replied.

you froze, your hand hovering over a paper as the recognition hit you like a tidal wave. you slowly looked up, heart hammering in your chest, and found yourself staring into the eyes of amelia shepherd.

"hi," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of surprise mixed with something else— something you couldn’t quite place.

"hi," you echoed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

the hospital faded away, the bustle of nurses and doctors becoming a distant murmur as you stood there, looking at each other. she looked almost exactly the same as the last time you’d seen her. her hair was shorter, yes, but her eyes still held that familiar spark of determination and defiance. there was a vulnerability in her gaze, though, that hadn’t been there before.

for a moment, you were both back at johns hopkins, two young residents studying late into the night, navigating the grueling demands of your profession while also navigating the complexities of your relationship. she’d been your world back then, the anchor that kept you grounded when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

"amelia…" you began, but before you could find the right words, your pager buzzed, breaking the moment. you glanced down, seeing mark’s name flashing on the small screen. "i—i have to go," you stammered, taking a step back. "mark’s paging me."

"yeah, of course," she replied quickly, masking the disappointment that flashed across her face. "i’ll see you around?"

you nodded, still trying to process the fact that she was standing in front of you. "yeah, sure."

as you walked away, you couldn’t help but look back. amelia was still standing there, watching you go, a wistful expression on her face. a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed them down, focusing on the task at hand. mark needed you, and that’s where your focus had to be.

mark was waiting for you in the attending lounge, leaning casually against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. he looked up when you entered, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"what took you so long?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"i, uh, got held up," you replied vaguely, trying to shake off the encounter with amelia. "what did you want my opinion on?"

mark handed you a patient file, but his eyes stayed on your face, studying you intently. "i was looking at a complicated reconstruction case. thought you might have some ideas. but, you know, since you’ve been avoiding seattle like the plague, i haven’t been able to ask for your expertise in a while."

you knew he was baiting you, and you weren’t in the mood. "i’ve been busy, mark. you know that."

"sure," he said with a shrug, his expression still smug. "by the way, did you know amelia’s here?"

the file slipped from your hands, falling to the floor. you bent to pick it up, trying to hide the sudden rush of emotions his words caused. "yeah," you said, your voice more steady than you felt. "i ran into her in the hall."

mark’s eyes gleamed with amusement. "and? how was that?"

you shot him a glare. "she said hi. i said hi back. then you paged me."

"really?" he said, his voice laced with disbelief. "because she looked like she wanted to say more than just hi."

"do you know why she’s here?" you asked, changing the subject.

"nope," he said, shaking his head. "but she did say she was looking for you."

you felt your heart skip a beat. "looking for me? why?"

before mark could answer, a voice cut through the room. "mark." both of you turned to see amelia standing in the doorway, looking hesitant. "can i talk to you for a minute?"

mark straightened up, glancing at you before nodding at amelia. "sure, come on in."

you felt trapped, the walls of the small lounge closing in on you. "i should go prep for my surgery," you mumbled, quickly walking past amelia without meeting her eyes. as you left the room, you heard mark and amelia start talking, their voices fading as you made your way down the corridor. your mind was a storm of thoughts and memories, each one bringing with it a wave of emotion you weren’t prepared to face.

later that afternoon, you were in the lounge again, trying to focus on a patient’s chart when amelia found you. she entered quietly, her presence like a ghost in the room. you didn’t look up, your attention fixed on the papers in front of you.

"can we talk?" she asked softly, breaking the silence.

you took a deep breath before raising your eyes to meet hers. "what are you doing here, amelia?" you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.

"i wanted to see you," she said simply.

you felt a flicker of frustration. "you flew three hours just because you wanted to see me?"

"yes," she replied, her voice unwavering.

silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. you felt her eyes on you, searching, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her gaze. she took a step closer, and you saw her pull something from her bag. it was an envelope— the letter you had sent her when she was in rehab.

"i read your letter," she said, holding it out like it was a fragile piece of glass. "i’m sober now. i’ve been through rehab, therapy… i’ve done the work. but you weren’t there."

her words stung, and you finally looked up, meeting her gaze. the sincerity in her eyes was unmistakable. she looked like the same woman you’d fallen in love with all those years ago, and yet there was something different about her now— an openness, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before.

"you don’t get to use my letter against me, amelia," you said, your voice tinged with anger. "not after everything you said to me."

her eyes filled with tears, and she took another step closer. you instinctively took a step back, the distance between you growing. the hurt in her eyes was palpable, and it mirrored the pain you’d carried for so long.

"i know i hurt you," she said, her voice breaking. "i didn’t mean those things. it was the drugs talking. i was scared and angry and broken. i wish i could take it all back."

you felt a lump in your throat, memories of those final days flooding back. the way she had looked at you with nothing but disdain, the harsh words that had cut deeper than any scalpel ever could. you had known she was spiraling, but you hadn’t known how to help. and then she had pushed you away, saying things that still haunted you.

"i know you didn’t mean them," you said quietly. "but that doesn’t make them hurt any less."

"i’m sorry," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "i’d do anything to take it all back, to make it right. i’m here now. and i’m sober. i came back to you. please, come back to me too."

loving amelia had always been complicated, a tangle of emotions you could never quite unravel. but standing here now, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes and hearing the sincerity in her apology, you felt something shift inside you. her presence brought back a flood of memories— late nights studying at johns hopkins, quiet moments stolen between surgeries, laughter shared over dinner.

but there was more than just nostalgia. there was pain. deep, lingering pain from the harsh words she'd said during her relapse. words that had cut deeper than any scalpel ever could. words you weren’t sure you could forget.

"amelia," you began, your voice uncertain. "i don’t know if i can do this again."

she looked at you, her eyes filled with emotion. "do you still love me?" she asked softly.

the question hit you like a freight train. did you? it felt like loving her was an inherent part of who you were, woven into your very being. but could you survive loving her again? you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. instead, you stood there, silent.

amelia’s face fell, but she didn’t back away. instead, she took a tentative step closer. "because i still love you," she said, her voice trembling. "i’m still so in love with you. i don’t think i’ve ever… stopped being in love with you."

her words were like a balm to the wounds you’d carried for so long, but they also brought a new wave of fear. could you trust her again? could you trust yourself not to fall into the same pattern, the same heartbreak? "what are we supposed to do, amelia?" you asked, voice strained. "ruin each other all over again?"

she shook her head fiercely, determination shining in her eyes. "no. that’s not what i want. i want to love you the way you deserve to be loved. i want to be there for you, support you, make up for all the times i hurt you. and if you’re not ready yet, that’s okay. i’ll wait for you. as long as it takes."

you studied her, really looked at her, and for the first time, you noticed the changes. she seemed different, stronger, more grounded. it was like seeing her for the first time again, and it scared you. what if you had both changed too much? what if the love you’d once shared was gone, replaced by the scars of time and pain?

"i don’t know if we’re the same people we were before," you said quietly, voicing your fear. "we’ve changed, amelia. what if we’re too different now?"

she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against yours, and the touch sent a spark through you, familiar and new all at once. "then that just means we get to fall in love with each other all over again," she said softly. "we get to learn each other’s hearts from the beginning. we get to build something new. something stronger."

her words resonated with you, and you felt the tension in your chest begin to ease. maybe she was right. maybe love didn’t have to be about holding on to the past. maybe it was about letting go, about choosing to believe in the possibility of something better. something real.

you took a deep breath, letting her words sink in. she was offering you a chance, not a promise that things would be perfect, but a promise that she would try. that she would be there. that she would love you.

"okay," you said finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. "okay, let’s try."

amelia’s eyes lit up with relief, a smile breaking across her face. she stepped closer, and this time, you didn’t move away. Instead, you let her wrap her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. you closed your eyes, resting your head against her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace. a sense of home.

[missgeniality]

Strip Lawyer (m)

“Rules are for children.” - Joe Abercrombie

➺ Banner: The supremely talented @dnrequests 💛

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Tutor!AU, Lawyer!AU

➺ Genre: Smut

➺ Rating: +18

➺ Word Count: 8.4k

➺ Summary: Years ago, as Jungkook’s tutor, you played a game – but not to completion. Today, he does the teaching. And he’s intent on reaching the finale.

➺ Warnings: dom!reader x sub!jk then dom!jk x sub!reader, strip poker but education, implied consent, little power imbalance, seggsual tension, restraints, oral sex (m&f receiving), grinding, jungkook is a tease as always, dirty talk, kissing, alcohol, boob play ehehe, fingering (f receiving), pussy slap, spitting, tearing clothes, biting, degradation, unprotected sex, jk cums on her ass, cum eating (kind of)

➺ Cross Posted: AO3

➺ Author’s Note: This was supposed to be @taegularities‘s birthday gift because she asked for Lawyer!AU - but in true Siya fashion, it went out of control. So... here you go LOL happy buttday to youuu, hope you enjoy ittt 💛💛 The biggest thanks to @jimilter because she is the reason I did not delete the draft, thank you so much for all your help in fixing this mess, love you so muuucchh 💛 Also huge huge huge thanks to @alpacaseoks​ for helping me with the flow and giving me pointers in a big chunk of the fic, I appreciate it so much! 💛 Disclaimer: I am not a law student in any way so please don’t expect any accuracy. Just enjoy the sex, I’m begging. Let me know what y’all think, and as always, thank you for being here! 

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ  

“You’re not serious.”

If only he knew. 

“So. Serious.” You emphasise your words with a slap on his shoulder, “I won’t have it on my honour that a student under my tutelage has been failing the same subject for two years.” You raise an eyebrow at the hunched figure ahead, and knock on the table to bring his attention up to you. 

“So you’ll just… Strip? Everytime I answer correctly?”

“That’s right,” you confirm, “and for every wrong answer, you strip for me. Simple.” You give Jungkook the widest grin you ever have, possibly too wide, because he only hunches further into his seat. 

And it finally bursts your bubble.

“I mean… I’m just–you don’t have to do this, okay?” You scramble up from your seat, opening the distance between you two – placing yourself a good few feet away from the boy. “I was just… having fun with the idea—” With stumbling haste you continue to comfort him, “I jus–isn’t this like classic nerd porn that you’d watch?”

And you remember that comforting a fellow human being isn’t really your forte. You’re ready to gather all your belongings that are spread across the table, run away, change your name and hope like hell he doesn’t file you up for harassment. 

Thankfully, your shabby attempt at damage control does ease Jungkook, and his back straightens a little bit as he brings himself to look at you.

“Not wrong,” he gives you a grin, “I–I really like that, umm, idea. Yes, let’s do it.”

He trails off, but not without a smile of burgeoning confidence – apparently not enough to finish that sentence with, but enough to give you one strong nod – and you have the affirmation you need. More affirmation is given by his not-so-subtle shift in his seat, that shows you something was making its presence known in the confines of his pants.

“All right, let’s start this. International Law and Relations is pretty easy, and actually has very interesting sub-topics – you can take subjects on this topic when you move to the next semester,” you pause flipping through the textbook and give your tutee, “if you move to the next semester. Thankfully, this year you have multiple choice questions, so… You better fucking pass, you hear me?!”

Jungkook only gives you a sheepish grin, his hands fiddling with each other.

“Okay, we’ll go through chapters randomly. Your first one – what is a country’s exclusive economic zone?”

On completing the question, you look up and await an answer – but the doe eyes that greet you back showcase that behind them, there is a lot of emptiness. Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised as he tries his best to push out any answer, any words, just anything from his brain. Alas, after two minutes, you give up.

“Okay, you’re going first then,” your voice breaks his intense thought process, and he flashes you a wide grin. 

“Socks count right?” He pulls off the socks on both his feet, and wiggles his toes against the fresh air. 

“Why you wear socks in this weather, it’s beyond me,” you huff an exasperated sigh, “but okay. One down. Exclusive economic zones are the sea-areas where coastal states have the right to exploit resources for economic gains. Think fisheries, mining, construction, artificial islands, and other endeavours. Capisce?”

“Got it. Next!”

“Love the enthusiasm,” you grin at his eager look, and open the textbook to a random page again, “okay, same chapter, what are the three international air laws?”

“Oh, I know this! I read thi–uhh, Public International Law, Private International Law…”

“Yesss? And?”

“Why is my brain saying Supernatural Law?”

One look at his bamboozled face and you burst out laughing. “Supranational Law! Not Superna—” Your persistent giggles have you dropping the book onto your lap, hands rushing to wipe a tear that makes its way down your cheek. You can see a bleary Jungkook, following suit in your snickers, his shoulders rising up – it’s a very cute view. 

No, Jungkook is not your type of guy – and you will not make him. 

You’re actually supposed to wrap up this session with Jungkook earlier than usual – because a party doesn’t wait for anyone – and last night Baekhyun told you he’d pick you up. When you asked him whether the party was, he only sent you a smirking emoji as a response. 

Rude boys are your standard, and Baekhyun fits it to the tee. Jungkook, not so much.

But now you’ve started something that can’t possibly end soon. 

“Okay, next item!” You aim to be loud, to quell that finagling thought in your mind.

“But—” Jungkook sputters out, “but I got that right?! Come on, it was close enough!”

You shake your head. “A hundred, or nothing. Chop chop,” you wave a gratuitous hand at his torso – and he obliges with a sigh.

God damn. 

The gamer nerd, who probably doesn’t see the light of day – his body is way too beautiful for his character arc. You scan his whole chest with your glaring beam, pecs ogling back at you – totally unaware of how Jungkook is doing the same to you – it takes considerable effort for you to rip your eyeballs out and get them to focus back on his face. 

You take a large, audible gulp to facilitate speech, “Okay, didn’t know that’s what would greet me – moving on—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean absolutely nothing, you closeted hottie,” you attempt to close that argument with that sole compliment – after all, you do have a tutoring responsibility – but Jungkook’s singular raised eyebrow makes you wonder if that party is really worth it.

Oh no, you need to make him pass this.

“Let’s move on now, or else you won’t ever move on from college,” you deflate whatever ego-ballooning Jungkook has – his bare shoulders slumping back to his hunched posture – and you internally grin. 

Picking up the thick textbook, you flip through to find a new page laced with information.  “Name three international hybrid tribunals, and their subject matter.”

“Okay okay, I just did this,” Jungkook starts off with confident, “the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, which is for the the prosecution of the people responsible for the assassination of the Lebanese Prime Minister, Special Court for Sierra Leone—” he pauses to take a deep breath and you watch his chest heave with an intent gaze, “which was for the Sierra Leone civil war, and finally… What was the–uhh– for the Kosovo War… Yes! Yes! Kosovo Specialist Chambers! The Kosovo Liberation army was put on trial,” he ends with a gleeful smile.

“There you gooo! See, you can totally do this,” you give him an encouraging nod, “what do you want me to take off?”

“O-oh, umm, your top?”

“Sure,” setting the book on the table, you slip out of your camisole, shaking your head to send your hair back to their place, “shall we move on?” 

But moving on gets tougher when he eyes you like that. The air gets denser within your space, the room feeling too small to escape the tension, and too big to act upon it. You remind yourself multiple times – this chocolate boy isn’t going to be the end of your night – your night ends on Baekhyun’s unspoken promise – but the eclipsing eyes that follow your neon bralette are pushing your brain to reconsider how you write this evening. 

“You–uh–you are really hot,” Jungkook’s fumbling words finally reach you.

You chuckle, stifling the urge to egg him on. “Thank you,” is your quiet response, and you both do well to stifle the snowballing tension.

“Okay, now I’m way more motivated to get my answers right,” he exclaims with vigour, and the two of you trudge forward, keeping up this charade of studies. 

Many questions down, and you’re at quite the standstill. 

Jungkook sits on his chair, not an inch of clothing on his body, stark naked – and you are about to lose your bra. 

Apparently he can apply himself real well when there are lewd incentives at the end of the rainbow. You circumvented the inevitable, counting riddance of jewellery and accessories as stripping – but now you’re out of options. Jungkook’s lips – pulled into a tender smirk that isn't racy – don’t threaten to sweep you off your feet – but fuck, they still get to you. Supple, with the slightest hint of moisture making his waterline glisten… you ache to taste them, to run your fingers over them, to drip honey all over them and watch them turn sweeter than ever. 

You need to get on Baekhyun’s dick. ASAP.

“Go on, I know that was right!”

Breaking out of your reverie with a demure huff, you smile your way out of your bra, and you can fully hear the deep inhale that your tutee has to take to this new view. With a brazen look of gloating, you cross your arms, letting your eyes and your cleavage do all the teasing – lest your tongue stumbles over the words and lands in his mouth. 

“Shi–yo–you’re—” Jungkook’s words falter as well, giving you an extra boost of pride. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot – I’m sorry, is this the fifth time I’m saying this?”

You laugh with him. “Yeah, probably. Could use a thesaurus.”

“I don’t think my brain will process anything on it. This keeps coming out because I got practice. Said it about a hundred times in my head.”

With your head thrown back, your whole body jiggles in laughter, filling the room with mirth and joy to replace the leaden lust in the air. You bend forward to flick his forehead, knowing full well that the movement just makes your breasts look more enticing; if that was even a possibility. His cock is stiff as iron, and you can fill a drying lake with your current rate of salivation. Both of you clearly recognize that words are flowing slower than before, movements are more calculated than before, and most importantly, eye contact lasts way too long for either of you to ignore. 

“Okay, umm, last question, then I need to be off.” You attempt to bring a close to this increasing strain in your throat, no matter how badly your body wants to delay your departure. “What years did the Hague Conventions take place?”

“I hate these questions,” murmurs Jungkook, “I remember the subject matters of it – it’s not like knowing the exact dates and times will help me avert war.” His pout makes you falter, like there isn’t a fully grown naked man in front of you, like he isn’t testing your limits right now.

“So… No answer?” 

Jungkook shakes his hung head, having given up on finding an answer. “What now, I can’t peel my skin or something,” he starts, a very innocent tone for this ambiance.

“Yeah, I mean, I gotta g—”

“And I’m out of jewellery, too, so—”

“Yeah, it’s cool, I’m gonna head out anyw—”

“You wanna tie me up or something?”

Silence. 

Too long of a silence. 

“I mea—”

“Jeon. Jung. Kook.” Your staccato of words work as a beat, your legs moving in its sync. You bend down for a brief moment to pick up his discarded t-shirt, but the rest of your movement wastes no time in finding a seat on his lap.

His dick presses against your clothed core, imbuing the ache that he currently feels, and goody – you both are in serious pain. And when you lean ahead to gather his hands into a knot on his back, he takes a sharp inhale – your breasts doing everything his dick-led-brain has been wanting for the whole session – pressing against his chest to feel every throb that races through your body.

“You have no filter,” you whisper into his ear, making sure he feels your damp lips move, “do you?”

“N–N–I, me–nngghh,” Jungkook labours through this ordeal, his hips going the extra mile to close the gap between you two. 

When you feel his hardness work against your pulsing clit, it only eggs you further, and the rudderless ship of your resolve yaws out of its lane, finding its anchor in the parted lips in your view.

If your surroundings could combust at the spark that you set off with the kiss, you’d be sitting in a castle of embers, licks of flames being innocent bystanders to the heat that your kiss generates. Your fingertips dig into the nape of his neck, and you swallow his groan with an eager tongue. Without a break, the kiss turns feral. 

You push into his mouth. He returns in kind – although there’s nothing kind about the way he digs his teeth into your lip. The hiss you attempt to release never makes it out to the world – Jungkook is intent on ending this kiss only when the last breaths in your bodies threaten to leave, carrying along with them your consciousness. 

And when that point comes, you part – your head is thrown back, and your hand carded in his hair pulls his back as well. Brisk, shallow breathing is the tune to which you gather your bearings. Your thighs burn for relief, the ache of holding your body in place settling in as the dopamine dies. From your awkward position, you flit an eye towards your partner in crime – and any dopamine that was dying, comes rushing back.

Your hands are still in the lush strands of his hair, and his lidded eyes are bouncing between many areas of view. Your libidinous eyes, your wet lips, your heaving breasts, or the junction of your thighs that give his hardness teasing touches. Maintaining this position, you dig into his cock, your flimsy underwear allowing your arousal to caress against his hot and awaiting length. He groans – it’s animalistic, it’s uninhibited, it’s none of the shy gamer nerd who cowered under the weight of your knowledge. His eyes, fervid, shuttle between all of your exposed skin, finding an anchor, but failing to stop.

“Look at you, is this what you really wanted?” It shocks you how far your voice shakes – what caused it – the kissing, the breathing, or the rock hard cock currently against your throbbing pussy? Who knows. 

“I mean… We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this,” Jungkook bites out an answer with great difficulty, “I—I definitely wan—ungh!”

You just can’t resist. His neck. His clavicles. His bobbing Adam’s apple. His chest. His restrained arms making a tireless effort to feel you. You leech onto his sparkling skin, and drag your tongue in the confines – Jungkook’s words transform into unintelligent warble, just the way you like. 

Sliding downward, and acknowledging the slight ‘fuck’ that Jungkook exhales with a smirk, you lodge yourself directly in front of his broad, heaving chest. The position is awkward — a lot of your body weight lays on your hands that balance you on the chair’s seat – but your current view makes any pain go away. 

“Could this be the reason,” you land a soft peck in the middle of his chest, “why your grades are like this,” trailing your path with your nose, you move left, “we could have just gotten this over with,” you end the sentence with a swirl of your tongue around his already pebbling nipple. 

He hisses a string of unintelligible curses, arching into your ministrations, “Yo–you’d have d–done tha—” His train of thought ends with an audible gasp when you engulf the nipple in your mouth.

“For my tutee,” you release his nipple with a pop and look back up at his eager-to-please-face, cupping a cheek, “anything.”

“Can y—can you get rid of thi–this?” He shakes his bound hands from behind, his shoulder muscles bulging in the movement.

You simply shoot him an innocent look. “But you asked for it, didn’t you?”

“I thought that was the best thing that could happen to me,” Jungkook huffs with a light pout, “right now, I’m regretting it so hard.” As he speaks, you move to trail a soft line of kisses across his chest, reaching his other, neglected nipple. With your eyes locked in with his, you lick around the nub again, enjoying his restrained groans from your vantage.

“You don’t like it? What would you do if you… could touch me?”

“Fuck, I would—I wo—God, I would wrap myself around you… take a big piece of that ass, tear off your fuckin’ underwear… Grab your tits and dig my face into them till it’s time to execute my will—”

You chortle, still busy teasing his chest and making it hard for him to make his words flow. “You don’t need your hands for the last one baby.” 

Your skin rumbles against the loud groans of pleasure that come out of Jungkook when you press his face into your chest, and you feel him frantically lick and suck at your skin, tongue lolling at whatever it could catch a taste of.

“Ahh, this is—making me want some very bad things,” you chuckle at the throes of pleasure he is pushing you under, but are surprised at yourself how much your voice quivers as well. Jungkook makes a show of fighting his restraints; you very well know that you don’t have a sailor’s knot guide on you, and the fight he’s putting up is not more than the fight you had been putting up throughout this evening.

“Bad things?” Jungkook’s breathy whisper brings you back to his lips, and you drop back on his lap, grinding yourself just enough to let your wetness cover his twitching length. “You’re my tutor, I–I’m sure you only want the best for me.”

With your show of repress finally curtained, you drop to your knees, arching your back until you’re face-to-face with his member – tip leaking copious amounts of precum, owing to the hours of tension that you put him through. Jungkook’s thighs tighten under your enrapt gaze, and his staccato breathing is music to your ears. 

“Well, since I am your tutor,” you preen before you drag your tongue around the base of his dick, “and since I want only the best for you,” you drag your tongue up his muscle in one long stroke, “let me give you the best that I have.”

You wrap your lips around him thinking about how sweet he looks. You draw figures with your tongue thinking about how he's absolutely not your type. You suck more of his length into you thinking about how his moans differ from your average partner. So sweet. So pure. So untainted. 

So, so not for you.

Perhaps sweet is what you nee—

“I’m gonna cu—” 

The shrill ring of your phone pierces through Jungkook’s uncontained moans as he empties into your mouth recklessly. With your eyes closed, you try your best to savour the crisp, salty taste, letting your tongue cheekily lap at his member until you feel him shudder under your stimulation. Satiated, you get to your feet, looking eye to eye with the doe-eyed monster – who has the gall to look so pure even now, hands tied, balls empty.

“I should… Get that.” 

Unsurprisingly, Baekhyun is pissed that you kept his premium cock waiting at your doorstep, and you appease his injured ego while finding your clothes and bearings. Jungkook relieves himself of the ‘restraints’, eyes following your disrobed body as it finds its modesty back, piece by piece. 

“Okay… my phone, my book, my jewellery… I think I got everything,” you announce to the small, overheated room. “Jungkook. Good luck, this is the one thing you gotta pass, make sure you reread chapters 8 to 11, don’t blindly mark something because it sounds reasonable because nothing in this world is, make sure you have eno—”

“But! Listen—” His voice, still so sweet, not a hint of demanding assertion in his tone, just plain and beautiful pleading. “Wh–when can we… Umm when can we m–meet again?”

Ugh, your heart. 

“Listen, I’m going away on vacation, my exams are over,” with a mildly heavy heart you try to explain to him without rushing, “that’s why this was our last class. And after that, I’ll be moving away. But!” With a spring in your step you open his door to let yourself out. “Keep in touch! Keep texting me, okay?” With your second shoe on, you stand at the stairs leading you out of his apartment, and look at him for one last word.

And you see his beautiful body and almost crumble back into his apartment. 

“Yeah… Will do, bye!” He pulls himself together and grants you a bright, guilt-free smile.

So sweet, even when you’re blowing him off. So, so sweet. 

But you don’t do sweet. So accepting his goodbye, you run like a deer being chased by the hungriest predator, towards the spice that awaits at your door.

Damned professional attires. Why can’t they look good without having to be tended to every fucking day? 

You curse yourself for the cup ramen breakfast that ruined your only good shirt, owing to which you have this stainless but wrinkled shirt on you. It is very out of place, the lush lobby walls making you feel like every crease on you is magnified by a thousand. 

It’s obviously not the shirt that is making your stomach gurgle. It is the upcoming meeting that is creating turmoil in your insides, part dread and part excitement.

“He will see you now.”

This guy has a receptionist and an assistant. Why is he so boujee? One look at his office door and you already know – this meeting will not go as per plan.

And when you push the heavy-set mahogany door, and take the man sitting at the baroque desk, silhouette highlighted by the clear night sky behind him – you’re certain this night was made for trouble. 

“Ah, look who it is.” 

That voice. So different from the last time you spoke. Gone is the tender, dulcet voice of his, gone are his soft, vulnerable eyes, and gone is the benevolent disposition that he carried around with pride.

As he takes a good, slow look at you, assessing you from top to bottom, gleaming with mischievous confidence, you shuffle in discomfort at all this directed display of interest. The million twinkles in eyes have coagulated to turn into a ball of inferno. With that blaze, he drags his eyes all over you, tracing your contours with the pens of his gaze, making you feel nails and needles through your spine. Unabashed. Doesn’t care that you’re waiting to take a seat, doesn’t care about your obvious discomfiture, just holding you at your place like a puppet to his watchful leer. The black-on-black suit fits his body like a dream, and the things you want to do to him are straight out of a nightmare.

“Please, why are you still standing?” His assessment complete, he waves an arm to the plush leather seats at your disposal. “Have a seat.”

Moments of uncomfortable silence pass by you, but only you seem bothered by it. You hate how fidgety you are right now, showing your cards so plainly. But truth be told, you have no cards to show. You’re here for his help, and there’s no game to be played with him.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” you offer, making a general gesture to show his entire office space. You could fit nineteen of your cubicles in here, and still have space to waltz around. Your incessant jumping from one firm to another, attempts at finding footing wherever you land but ultimate dissatisfaction with whatever was presented to you led to a not-so-stellar career, and tonight, to this office. 

“Thanks.” He offers nothing more. And his lack of words definitely stings. 

How did someone who breezed through law school end up like this?

More importantly, how did someone who was barely passing subjects under you end up in a position of such power?

And most important of them all, how did you end up being at his mercy?

"So tell me,” he begins once again, bursting your bubble of self-detestation, “how can I help you?"

You take a deep, rich breath and start. "I'm assuming you read my email, so I just nee—"

"You're gonna have to pause right there. I didn't." A simple response, with a simple smile, and you simply want to crawl into a hole and never see sunlight ever again. Jungkook doesn’t even try to explain himself out of this – no excuse or reasons given as to why the email remains unread. And as happenstance would have it, you are in no position to ask him why.

"Very well." You tap the file ahead, taking a deep breath and starting again, "This file should have it all. It’s better if you read through it, I might miss details." 

Jungkook’s extended, bejewelled hand accepts the file, and leafs through the bundle of papers you’ve prepared for him. But that is not what you’re internalising. You're too busy furtively eyeing his bedecked office, the wooden panels offering a private divide between the office space and a separate seating area. The ritzy furniture establishing the space, the lavish lighting giving more depth to the space, the skyline flaunting its glory above it all – you're fraught with uncontrollable envy.

A call to your name jolts you, moving your eyes to him. 

“So do you need me as co-counsel? I hardly think you need the help.”

“Please, don’t patronise me,” you chide him, the repressed irritation showing its face. “I know I’ve not had the best set of years in this field. And I know I fucked up on this one, pardon my French.”

“Well,” he pays no heed to your agitated tone, pushing the file back to you – just enough, so you are forced to get up to reach, “you’re right about that. You fucked up. I can definitely look into this, but I have a heavy workload as it is.” He simply shrugs, a mock-saintly frown on his lips.

What happened to your sugar-cookie boy who would do anything to make you proud? 

Who is this man?

“I know, but I’m—” You swallow everything in you that stops the words, “I’m desperate. This meeting was clearly out of desperation. I know you knew what this was about. Why would you accept an appointment this late if you weren’t going to take on the job?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you. Maybe I was curious what my tutor was doing, after leaving me high and dry that fateful night.”

He says it with such a harmless smile, like he just announced what he had for dinner. If you weren’t shaken yet, you now are. 

“If I remember correctly, that was not the case. But for now, I’m asking for your help. That’s how I’m doing.”

“Yeah well,” with a smooth move, he gets out of his charcoal seat, and glides towards the tasteful couches placed on the other end of this palatial office, your heartbeat picking up pace from a gentle jog to a frantic pace, “I think I’m entitled to something in return.”

You follow him to the couch across the room, seating yourself on it – and taking a second to enjoy how comfortable it feels. “I literally swallowed your load that night. If anything, I’m the one entitled to this.”

“I’m sure your boy-toy that night gave you everything you needed, didn’t he?”

Deep breath. He remembers the night very well. Too well.

Did you expect that? No. 

Did you want to find out?

Well, why else did you choose his name from a catalogue of high-end lawyers who could have saved your ass in this case?

What’s that saying… Curiosity kills your pus—

“Listen,” you interrupt your own reverie, “you will receive remuneration for your work, my boss is ready to—”

“Nuh–uh,” he tuts, “come on now, we really don’t need to play this cat and mouse game, do we?”

A deep exhale calms your nerves against this burgeoning yet desired situation, and you leave your seat to accept the glass of whiskey he’s offering you. After returning to the couch and gulping the hootch, you meet his accursed, biting gaze. “What can we even wager on like that night? It’s not like I have test questions to ask you anymore,” you throw the ball back into his court, desperately hoping he finds a good enough solution.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he teases you, sliding into the seat – it’s unbearable how good he looks with this confidence. He gets in your space, still holding his undrunk glass of whiskey, peering into your eyes as he makes his proposal. “I think a bit of role reversal will do us good,” he smiles back at you. “Do you good.”

“My definition of good, or yours?”

He smiles at your attempt at feigning confidence. “I don’t think they differ by much.”

In this quietude, the frenetic beating of your heart rings all the way up in your ears. It is a testament to how agog this transformed man leaves you; by the way he speaks, the way he looks, the way he commands your entire being. Words fail you, so you whisper a small ‘yeah’ and nod – you definitely knew where this night was going the moment you called his office, even if your ego strives hard to say otherwise.

“Let’s start simple,” he begins with a slap to his thigh, seating himself comfortably, “where did you go that night?”

What tactic is this? You’re baffled that this man – looking like a Michelin-star-seven-course-meal – cares about that one immaterial night.

Was it really immaterial, though?

Youngling Jungkook was probably offended, you posit to yourself, by the way you left things hanging (pun very much intended). 

“How would you know if I lie?”

“I’ll decide that.” His eyes add “and you’ll follow.” No room for discussion is provided.

“Right.” You sip on your refilled glass, clearing your throat before you answer, “I don’t know if you know him, Byun Baekhyun.” You look in his eyes for recognition, but you can’t read anything, anything at all. “I had to meet him.”

“To fuck?”

“Well, yes. Drinks and then that.” 

“Okay, I’ll take that.” 

And you’ve passed question one – all your clothing fully intact.

“Next question,” his eyes filled with sensual mirth, “was he any good?”

“Oh my God,” you throw your hands up, ready to leave the seat in a show of exasperation, “are you—is this insecurity? After all these years?”

“Well, I’m asking the questions, so I don’t owe you an explanation,” Jungkook leans into the cushions, his confident manner growing with each passing second, “but you might say, I’m curious.”

A moment of silence passes. 

“Yes.”

“Ahh…” He tuts at you, inching closer until you feel the microfibres of his coat against you, “Wrong answer.”

Of course it’s the wrong answer. 

Byun Baekhyun might have been one of the best fucks of the campus, and you might’ve had a lot of fun with him on erstwhile rendezvouses, but that night wasn’t either of your nights, with him being pissed of at you for making his dick wait, and you having your mind glued on a totally different dick to his. The lie might have been obvious, but the fact that you’re having to accept it right now is making your ears heat up.

You don’t really need to do this.

Oh, but you do.

“Go on,” Jungkook coaxes you with his honey-dripping voice, lidded eyes tormenting you, “you know the rules.”

In the tense air, you take off a bracelet, the fake diamonds leaving a chill on your wrist. After dangling it in his face, you drop it onto the couch seat. 

“Good…” Jungkook teases, wondering which deviation of his brain to follow next. “Next. Did you think about me while getting your mediocre pounding from Baekhyun?”

“Oh my God, no!” Your rude tone is extra sharp, like you didn’t even want to entertain the thought that Jungkook would think – Jungkook would know – that that’s what happened. 

To this date, you do not remember anything of Baekhyun – your memories of that day have been painted with Jungkook and Jungkook alone.

“Come on now,” his smug visage turns ungodly, eyebrow cocked up, “a white lie. Off,” is all he says. 

You bend down to reach for the buckle of your shoe. Owing to Jungkook sitting fairly close, your line of sight is delicious – his taut suit pants defining the thighs that he’s clearly worked for; basically ogling at his thighs and crotch in close proximity. With shaky hands, your shoes finally come off – no thanks to the burst of anticipation flooding your veins. 

“Have you ever thought about us on lonely nights?” The closer he moves, with each syllable of utterance, the farther you feel from a sense of control. 

“No…” Your words stammer, and you mentally give the point to Jungkook. Looking up, you find him smirking at your shrinking stature.

“Ahh… You make it too easy,” he just chides you, and you start slipping out your rings.You’re well aware that you are the one dragging this out – but the “yes” just does not want to grace your lips. 

Maybe because you actually like this game. 

Maybe you’re enjoying this end of the show. 

And maybe, you finally want to see this game to completion. 

“Just so you know,” Jungkook purrs into the shell of your ear, leaving you wondering when he moved so close, “I think about your slick on my cock a lot.”

The desperation in your countenance is so visible, it’s pathetic. You wait in silence for the next question, eager to jump to the finale, but the path to the end is far too enjoyable to skip.

“Do you want to continue where we left off?”

“No.” Your answer is straight, to the point, no embellishments. 

Instead, you let your hands do the talking.

In one smooth action, you unzip your skirt and pull it down, without a prompt from the dastard ogling at you. Every move you make, you feel his stare burn into your skin, countering the chilly air filling the room. You sit back with your legs tightly closed – not out of any false sense of modesty, that has never been your strong suit – but the unceasing throbbing of your clit needs temporary relief or else it will jump out and land into his mouth.

The distance between you two has steeply decreased, and you can’t tell who’s at fault anymore. In any case, this proximity is most welcome, as per the anticipatory goosebumps that decorate your skin. Swirling his yet-unfinished drink in his hand, ice cubes clattering against each other, Jungkook takes your exposed legs in that are only barricaded by your pantyhose. It’s not the best material – you’ve been wearing the same one for a week now, displaying many scratches and tears – but Jungkook’s eyes don’t even seem to register it. 

But what is with this speed? He is fully intent on making every second of your horny existence miserable. In a desperate attempt to get a fraction of his touch, you bring your leg up – making the move as slow and deliberate as possible – landing it on his thigh. The best begging you can do without actually voicing it out.

Jungkook, however, is a man of many talents – ignoring your direct needs being a prime one. After a light sip, he brings his glass down to your leg, the bottom rim touching under your toe – and you hiss at the ice-cold feeling that spreads across your foot, as the condensate spreads its influence. 

“I have so many questions for you…” Jungkook whispers to you, watching you twitch, “but I’m having too much fun right now.”

Just when you begin to ask whether his dictionary reads ‘fun’ differently, he drags his cold glass upward, painfully slow, traversing your foot, then along your shin bone, letting the precipitate draw a path of icy chill on the map of your body. Meeting your eyes to just plant a cheeky wink into your brain, he continues forging ahead – until he can reach mid-thigh. He stops there long enough to hear you hiss – only then do you feel the glass move away. 

If you weren’t already panting, you are now. Very audibly so. It is all you can hear in the room, in fact. 

That is, of course, until Jungkook assaults all your senses by dragging you awfully close to him, extracting a gasp from you – his grip on your thigh is tighter than the band in your stomach begging for a release, and you relish the feeling. 

“Do you, want me,” he says into the miniscule space that’s left between your lips, “to kiss you right now?”

You can’t decide what demands your spotlight; is it his gaze boring holes into your skin, or his lips that are now glistening deliciously?

“No.”

“Hmmn,” Jungkook turns away from you, and you almost rise in alarm – until you register his next actions, “thought so.”

One second to completely sip all of his whiskey. Another second for his lips to land on yours.

Finally.

The fantasies of this night blend into reality, and instead of doing the rational thing – thinking why you ended up like this – you give into the kiss.

Not only does he kiss you hard, like the future of his world depends on it, he also pushes in his undrunk whiskey into your eager mouth. The liquid swirls between the colliding tongues, some leaking out of the corners of your mouth – the rest coating the insides of your cheeks with a lush, rich and robust flavour – flavours that didn’t pop when you drank it from your own damn glass.

You kiss until the whiskey gets drunk – by whom, is a mystery – and before you can tend to the stray drops down your face, Jungkook’s hand grabs your chin to keep you still. 

God, your last kiss was nothing like this. The blood buzzing in your ears is thunderous, reacting to the contradiction between the soft, tender kisses exchanged all those years ago, and the jagged, raw conquering of your lips happening right now. Your roughened lips burn under the remnants of alcohol, but it’s nothing compared to the searing you feel when Jungkook lets his tongue languidly glide against your gnawed skin.

“Now, since it was the wrong answer…” He husks, his fingers moving inward, closer and closer until they land just below your collar, “I have no choice but to—”

One mighty sharp tug – and all the buttons of your shirt have popped, flying all around the two of you. His hands, still clutching the buttonless seams of your shirt, harshly pull you back into him. Lips firmly sealed back onto yours, he sends his hand roaming.

“This is what you needed that night, eh?” With one hand back to digging in your jaw, he mouths the words into your cleavage, teeth digging deep into whatever they can grab, “Sweet boys just don’t cut it for you.” He moves up to the nook of your neck, his other hand slotting between your thighs, “For all the attitude you had back then, all you want then is to be treated like a street slut. And you’re still the same. Whores don’t change.”

Rude boys are still your standard, and Jungkook has become just that.

“Ow—fuck, don’t leave mar–marks, man,” you attempt an angrier voice while avoiding his truth bomb – because yes, aren’t you knocked out, over the moon right now? The voice that emanates is feeble, with no brawn to be found. 

He too, doesn’t pay you any heed – teeth tugging the flesh in his clamp until he can hear you hiss, then letting it go, letting his tongue soothe the sting.

“You can pretend to hate it,” he sneers at you, his low tone whisper sending shivers like a snowy night, “your lips can lie, but your body? From the moment you walked in, I know your pussy’s been screaming to be filled. Just thank your stars I’m generous, huh?”

You’re drunk. On just two fingers of whiskey? That can’t be it. Definitely, it’s the heady concoction of the alcohol and Jungkook’s very able hands – one of which is enjoying the feel of your perking nipple. 

While one hand goes back up to roughly dig into your neck, the confines of your throat feeling the heat of his lust, his other arm wraps holds your back, making sure you don’t lean too back and lose your balance. It’s sweet.

What’s not sweet, however, is how long this is taking.

He pushes you until you’re balancing your head on the armrest, with one knee digging into the cushion beside you, the other firmly planted on the carpeted floor. Within a wink of an eye, he’s moved down – and you feel his tongue play over your bra, teasing your nipples, reminding you of a forgotten (but not really) past – a harsh suckle under your boob releases the trapped moan, but it sounds battered; perfectly showcasing your state of mind.

“How about this,” he whispers, looking up from his actions, “you think I can get you to come without taking anything else off?”

Do you have the mental fortitude to deal with the consequences of your bratty answer? 

“No.”

The fingers fiddling with your bra hooks halt – instead, he descends onto your clothed breast, biting over the fabric, fully knowing that your sensitivity was through the roof. You cuss and moan, growing frustration urging for more, but you do not beg.

“Funny how life changes,” he coos, shifting attention from one boob to the other, “today you’re the one tied down. And lucky for you,” with not a hint of weariness in his voice, “I don’t have to be anywhere, anytime soon.”

No ties, no ropes, no chains – hell, not even that overworn, oversized tee of his – and he’s still so right about it. Not a part of you wishes to move away, your pathetic self just wrapped around his agile fingers. 

Said fingers now hold your cheeks, squeezing until your quivering lips give an opening – and he drops a ball of spit right over. You lay there, entranced, taking what he has to give, your writhing less prominent now. Anything that falls outside the outline of your lips is gathered by his thumb, massaged over your mouth, then inserted for you to suck to your heart’s content. Which you do.

“You’ve shanghed sho mush,” you speak past his thumb; he definitely doesn’t try to make it easier on you, pushing his digit further inside, putting your tongue through a test of endurance.

“So have you,” is his simple response, dragging his wettened thumb across your cheek.

“Not as much as you, for sure.”

“I don’t think the mouthy bitch years ago would suck spit off of my thumb.”

“You don’t know that.” With his eyes widening ever so slightly, you continue, “But surely, the geek from years ago wouldn’t have spit in my mouth in the first place.”

“You don’t know that either.” 

Just when you think you’re done seeing stars with the roof on, Jungkook hooks the band of your bra in his teeth – like the primitive animal that he is – and pulls at it, just to let it snap back at your skin. The unannounced action makes you squeal, even though it didn’t really hurt – he’s got your body so alive, a feather could hurt you if he wielded it.

With the odd, oafish position of yours; one leg on the couch, the other hanging off loose, head balanced precariously on the armrest with your arms dutifully out of his way – you try to get him where you need him, knee nudging his thigh while your hips wriggle under an invisible spell. Finally, he acquiesces, settling down at the couch with your legs unwrapped on either side for his viewing pleasure. His palms squeeze the flesh of your thighs, a small tsk falling off his lips at the touch of your pantyhose.

“Tearing doesn’t count as taking off, right?”

“What?”

You don’t get a response – not in words, atleast. The loud rip that follows is the only answer he graces you with, your worn down pantyhose having its last wear forever. But his easy access only brings you gratitude when two fingers enter the tear in a split second, pushing your underwear inside your sopping core.

“Mmmhh—Fuck!”

Jungkook just laughs at your helpless body writhing beyond control as he explores everything he didn’t have a chance to before. Fingers travelling down, then up, inside, then outside, around and about – everything, only egging you further on. 

“After all these years…” Jungkook purrs, not directly to you, eyes only connected to the juncture of your thighs, “you deserve a good fucking. What should I do, huh? Should I make you come, then drop off the face of the earth?” His tongue swipes the length of your crevice, sending shudders down your thighs. “Or should I spend this whole night doing all the things I’ve been meaning to? Cover you in my jizz and parade you across the office? Show everyone what an excellent tutor you were, and your very innovative teaching methods.”

Your brain has no filter when exposed to the horny, and his last words made it do just that – you latch onto whatever words best serve your purpose. 

“You–you’ve been meaning… To?” 

“Meaning to fuck you against every possible surface of this room,” is what Jungkook says, but with his fingers entering your cunt and exploring about, you don’t register anything. “As a thank you, you know? Meaning to see you fall apart on my fingers, just like this—” He pushes in hard, your pussy throbbing around his digits. “Meaning to cum inside you, over and over again, and have you crawl around this space, dripping everywhere while I sit and watch your sullied body prepare itself to take more.”

Well, the last one is oddly specific. Even more odd is how much more aroused the thought makes you.

“Wow, umm—w–well—” Swallowing the wad of spit accumulating in your throat, you offer, “Since you clearl–ooh, clearly, know how to make me come,” you look him in the eye, tears of desire pooling in the corners of your eyes, “so fucking do it. S–Stop playing around.”

“But with a plaything as sweet as you,” he moves to kiss your clothed pussy, his fingers still playing imaginary music inside your walls, “with a toy as slutty as you,” another kiss, so delicate it hurts you, “hard to not play around.”

Hands unfettered from the mental shackles that Jungkook put on you, you pull him back up to you, lips smushing together once again – your other hand wraps around his wrist, grinding onto whatever surface his palm offers, using him like a glorified sex toy. He grunts hard into you, a vague attempt made at bringing you back under control, but your tongue is beguiling, and he stays under your hold. 

Until he isn’t. 

“A—w—fuck!”

Jungkook’s sadistic streak continues when he frees his wrist from your clutches, and smacks your clit once, twice, thrice – in quick succession. Your nub would buzz if it could, and a string of expletives release from you when he does it again – this time, with a greater backswing. 

With a sharp tug to his still-on blazer, you pull him up. “Fucker,” you sputter, making your first and last request of the night, in a desperate attempt to get the ball rolling, “let me suck your dick.” Your hands already flounder around his crotch, until he pulls them away, back to their previous confinement. In the background, you can hear his belt jingle; but all you can see is his arresting face.

A deep-throated laugh emerges from him, “Wasn’t last time enough?” He coos at your cock-hungry plea, pushing you back down and fiddling with your legs. “Next time, okay?”

“Next ti—uungghh!”

Barely able to complete your showcase of surprise, because this is the way he announces his acceptance – he pushes into your core, without warning, but he receives a warm welcome in the walls of your pussy. 

“We have a lot,” he emphasises with a thrust, “a lot of work to do, don’t we?” He pulls out just enough to leave you whining, then pushes back in with a grunt of satisfaction; his moves are calculated enough to leave you wanting while maverick enough to leave your spine tingling. “And a lot of catching up as well.” He hovers over you after positioning you better, both of your bodies lying along the length of the couch, before getting right back into your gushing entrance.

One particular thrust has you arching up, the shock of pleasure stagnating in your body for a hot second, making your head lag and voice wane. Jungkook sheaths himself completely, before slotting his face in the nook of your neck, heavy breaths licking at your heated skin. Not one to miss an opportunity, you take the lobe of his ear between your lips, letting your teeth graze over the skin.

“Mmmh, yes,” he keens, tilting into your touch, “make it hurt, baby.”

Whether it is the words he uttered, or the way his whisper travels down to your cunt, you dig your teeth into the flesh, immediately rewarded with a mouthwatering flurry of cusses stuttered into your neck. 

“It’s,” Jungkook pulls out of you in an instant, turning you around by your waist, “not,” he pushes your head back onto the headrest, your cheek bulging as you try to get a look at him, “enough.”

And the way he slams back into you, you feel your soul fight your body to escape. You mewl into the deathly quiet, his dogged jackhammering hurtling you towards your most awaited high of the day – hell, the most awaited all these years. He pistons into you, covering every inch of your skin in a sea of flames. Your orgasm finds you like a river in spate, gushing through its path, fighting boulders in its wake, carving its way through your entire body. 

Sounds of the room start feeling like echoes, slapping balls, grunty exhales, a weirdly long cloth rip that does not belong – but your ears are ringing, your mouth is drooling, and your brain is ready to shut down. Being jostled like a muppet feels like home, and you only start waking up when spurts of liquid coat all of your ass, thighs, and slit. 

In true asshole fashion, Jungkook tore all of your pantyhose, fabric loosely hanging on the sides, seams split until all of your ass and thighs were open for his pleasure. 

In truer asshole fashion, Jungkook left you a mess, cum trickling down your glutes, pooling at the bend of your knee.

And in truest asshole fashion, he is wiping his unsullied fingers clean, without a second thought about your current dishevelled disposition.

Ugh. You love to put yourself in a position you can’t get out of.

How the fuck will you get home? This jerk won’t give you a ride. 

Also, none of your bones work. 

You lay your head on the armrest, finding feasible ways out of this situation. It's going to be nice riding the bus with dried cum itching your ass. There must be a washroom in this boujee office, of course. You finally gather the strength to raise your head and look for one – but interception comes sharp and swift.

“Already done, huh?” Jungkook’s fingers press into the nape of your neck, pushing you back down, your tendons feeling the pressure of his stronghold.

“I—” You stutter and stumble again, just like the start of the night, “I thought we—”

“Don’t you remember?”

“What?”

“Hmmmn,” he sponges kisses over your clothed back, making his way downward, “stupid girl said I couldn’t make her come without taking anything off.”

Ah.

Stupid girl did say that.

Stupid girl also has her speaking right revoked right now, because Jungkook is collecting the half-dried cum on your ass with his tongue, awakening your dying senses once again. His final move is a start to the next chapter of your night, as he pushes his tongue into your velvet heat, depositing the cum where it belongs.

“Guess we keep playing, huh?”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!    

[specialagentlokitty]

Derek hale x Sister!reader - my sister

Hi so this is the request I try to send you before through the inbox. I wanted to know if you could write a Derek Hale x big sister reader where the reader is very very protective like almost overprotective of him ( he could be her anchor )and I wanted to see how the whole pack would react to that because everyone know that Derek can take care of himself and also that he's very strong, they don't really understand why the reader is so protective over him and then someone explain why she so protectives over him ( it could be Chris, Peter, Noah or even Deaton) and that since the fire it got a little bit more worse. Please, I love how you write the siblings bond that I read on your blog. Sorry it's very long - @bakakara666💜

Looking at your little brother come limping into the loft, you pointed to the couch and he sat down, watching as you wondered away.

Everyone else filed in behind Derek, Scott a little injured but nowhere near as bad as Derek was, and they watched as you came back over.

You dragged the coffee table over and sat in front of Derek, taking his arm in yours as you wordlessly tended to his wounds.

“Doesn’t he know how to do that himself…?” Stiles whispered.

“Of course he does idiot.” Peter hissed.

Peter looked at you carefully tending to your brothers wounds and he sighed softly.

“Then why is (Y/N) doing it?” Lydia asked.

You glared at them all, and Peter ushered the into a different part of the loft while you carried on helping your brother.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Hunters, nothing serious don’t worry.”

You nodded your head very slowly, and began to clean the wounds on his other arm.

“How’s your side?” You asked.

“Healing, it should be mostly healed now.” He said.

You nodded again.

Derek looked down at you, your tired eyes focusing carefully on what you were doing and he sighed a little bit.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said.

“Yes I do.”

Derek reached up, grabbing your wrist in his hand and stopped you, forcing you to turn your attention up to him.

“You don’t. It’ll heal.”

“I have to do this Derek.”

You both stared at one another for a few moments before he slowly let go of your wrist, letting you go back to looking after him.

“Are they still alive?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You tossed everything into a bag and set it aside, standing up, you began to walk towards the door.

“(Y/N) don’t!”

Everyone else came out of the room to see you standing in front of the doors to the loft, yellow eyes fixated on the door.

“(Y/N).” Peter warned.

You glared at him.

“Leave it, they’re not worth it.” Derek said.

You slowly turned around, your yellow eyes staring into his blue ones.

“They hurt you. That’s all the do. Hurt.” You growled.

“And we handled it they’re not coming back. It’s fine.”

Derek walked over and he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t do it…” he whispered.

Gazing at your brother, you sighed, letting your eyes return to normal as you nodded and walked away to properly clean up.

Derek sighed heavily as he looked at you.

“What would she have done…?” Alison whispered.

“She would’ve ripped every hunter she came across to bits without thinking twice about it.” Derek said.

“So she’s dangerous? Great!” Stiles scoffed.

Derek turned around, grabbing stiles by the shirt and pulled him of his feet a little bit while everyone called for him to stop.

“My sister is not dangerous.” Derek growled.

He dropped stiles, shoving him back a few steps.

“Don’t ever call her that again.”

With that, Derek stormed away and when you noticed you went after him, calling his name.

Stile turned to Peter.

“What the hell is his problem?” Stiles asked.

Peter glared at Stiles.

“He doesn’t have a problem you called his sister, by niece, dangerous of course he’s going to be pissed.”

“Why is (Y/N) so protective of Derek?” Lydia asked.

Peter glanced towards the stairs then gestured to the couch, so everyone went to sit down and he stood in front of them all, arms crossed over his chest.

Upstairs you were sat with Derek, your hand in his as you both just sat silently.

“She’s always been protective of him. Older than him by 5 years, (Y/N) always felt the need to look after Derek. If he fell, she was there, scared, upset, angry she was right there for it all.”

Peter sat down on the table like you did.

“They were incredibly close. After the fire she became more protective, she had lost everyone aside from him.”

Peter glanced to the stairs again before looking at them.

“Derek is protective of her, sure. But she would bring this whole town to its knees if she had to just to keep him safe. (Y/N) can’t loose anymore of her family, it would tear her apart.”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“That’s why she was going to go find those hunters, right?” Scott asked.

“Exactly, she’d have killed them if Derek hadn’t stopped her. He’s the only one who can keep her temper in check, so remember that when you’re trying to get him arrested again.”

You stood up, placing your hand on Derek’s shoulder as you turned around to look at him.

“You’re okay, right?” You asked.

“I’m fine, I promise. Don’t worry about it’s nothing.”

You nodded your head a little and walked over to the window to look outside.

“Next time I’m coming with you.”

Derek glanced at you and said nothing about it because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop you.

If you wanted to go you would, and he knew there was absolutely no way that he could stop you from doing it, all he could do was stop you from trying to kill anyone who hurt him

[sweetprfct]

The Hate Formula

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it?

Author's Note: Let the chaos begin! This was a really fun chapter to write, so I hope you all enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 3.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

“Oh god! Yes, Joe!”

Your eyes snapped open as you grabbed the pillow from behind you and set it over your head. You closed your eyes again and forced yourself to fall back to sleep. It was about 2am, and you still had work the next morning. The last thing you wanted to hear was some random woman crying out Joe’s name in the middle of the night.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck!”

Exhaling a sharp breath, you took the pillow off your head, kicked your comforter frustratingly and swung your legs over your bed. Letting your feet touch the cold wooden floors, you reached over to turn on the light from your lamp and slid your robe around your body. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You cursed under your breath when you saw what time it was. 

“Yes! Ah–Joe!” 

Shaking your head, you walked out of your room, out the door of your apartment and into the elevator. The amount of noise complaints that you have filed for Joe for the last two years have been–well– countless. You have filed so many that you have lost track of the amount, and you at least have one almost every month. It wasn’t like you enjoyed walking into your landlord’s office every morning and complaining that the women that Joe would bring home were always too loud. You didn’t need to hear them cry out his name nor hear their moans in the middle of the night, especially on the nights that you have work the next day. 

The noises were worse during the weekends, and you didn’t exactly remember when all of this started. Maybe a month or two after you have moved into the building. All you knew was that this has been going on for the last two years, and it all started on a Sunday night when you were trying to go to sleep early since you have work the next morning, and you heard a woman moaning Joe’s name literally outside the hall. 

When you had opened your front door, you saw the woman pinned against Joe’s front door. His lips on her chest, and his hand was basically grabbing her ass. One leg curled around his hip, and she kept moaning his name. Sighing and rolling your eyes, you walked over to them and tapped Joe on his shoulder. Then, Joe pulled away and the both of them immediately froze and turned to face you. The woman looked annoyed, and Joe’s brows were all knitted together. He also looked annoyed over the fact that you had interrupted his little makeout session in the middle of the hall. 

You could tell that he was a bit drunk by just looking at his glassy eyes and his flushed cheeks. A smirk appeared across his face the moment he saw you standing there, your arms crossed in front of your chest. 

“What is it, love?” Joe asked.

You made a face as soon as you heard the little nickname that Joe had given you. Even in front of the girl that he was making out with, nothing stopped him from flirting with another one. He didn’t care at all about anything. 

“It’s midnight. I can literally hear the both of you through my front door and all the way into my room.”

You heard the woman scoff and saw how she rolled her eyes at you as Joe set her back down. He looked around the quiet empty hallway and turned back to you. 

“No one else is complaining about it.” Joe argued. 

“Take it inside your apartment or I’m gonna file a complaint about you.” You warned him.

Walking away, you sighed in frustration as soon as you closed the door behind you. Settling back in your bed, you pulled the covers close to your chest and closed your eyes. You were tired, and you just wanted to sleep. However, the moment you started drifting off, you started hearing the woman moaning Joe’s name again.

“Ugh!” You groaned in frustration, grabbing your other pillow and set it over your head. 

You didn’t sleep a wink that night, and you immediately went straight to the landlord’s office early in the morning. You had dark circles under your eyes, and you had decided to work from home that day. 

“Mrs. Johnson, I can literally hear them all the way to my room.” You complained. 

Mrs. Johnson sighed, leaning back against her chair and gave you a look. She looked like she didn’t believe a word you said as you continued to explain that this wasn’t the first time you have been hearing these noises.

“Mrs. Johnson, it gets worse on the weekends. I mean… fine, it’s the weekend but really? I have work the next day, and I can’t sleep because of him.”

“I’ll give him a warning.” Mrs. Johnson stated. “If he doesn’t stop then, I’ll talk to him and see what we can do.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded your head and sighed. You entered the elevator going back up to your apartment, feeling defeated and pissed off. You could clearly see her face when you told her what was going on and even if she didn’t have to say anything, you knew she didn’t believe you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because Joe was an actor, and he had bigger privileges than you. That just wouldn’t be fair. 

Entering your apartment, you saw Sara sitting on the dining table with her work laptop in front of her. A surprise look washed over her face when she saw you enter the apartment, still in your pajamas and robe. 

“I thought you already left for work?” Sara asked, her eyes scanning your current state.

You looked exhausted.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” You murmured, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a cup of coffee. 

“I decided to work from home.” Sara replied.

“That makes two of us.” You exhaled a sharp breath and sat across from her on the dining table. 

“Where did you go?”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes recalling what just happened back in Mrs. Johnson’s office. For some reason, with the way Mrs. Johnson was reacting to your little complaint, you sort of felt embarrassed. You went there early in the morning to complain about Joe for fuck’s sake. But it wasn’t your fault. They really were loud last night, and you couldn’t sleep. 

How come it felt like you were the bad guy here?

“Downstairs.” You bit your lower lip, playing with your coffee mug. “Complained to Mrs. Johnson about Joe’s little noise last night.”

“Ohmygod.” Sara rubbed her forehead softly. “Why? What happened now?”

“Sara, didn’t you hear how loud they were last night?” 

It was only 7am, and you were already frustrated and stressed over this situation. How was Joe able to just tick you off like this even when he wasn’t even around at the moment?

“No?” Sara furrowed her brows. “Don’t you think it’s time to put a stop to this? Do you two always have to banter in the middle of the hall all the time?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Sara, I literally couldn’t sleep last night. Are you on my side or his?”

“I’m on the ‘I wanna keep living here’ side.” Sara answered. “You both are lucky that none of the other tenants have filed a complaint with both of your loud bantering in the middle of the hall all the time.” 

Slumping on your chair, you took a sip of your coffee and gazed out of the big glass window for a moment. Sara could see the anger in your face, and it wasn’t just anger. There was some resentment in it too. She wondered if there was an end goal to this little game that you two were playing, and she wondered if you both would ever get tired of it. 

“Did you really not hear anything from last night?” You asked, your voice low. 

“No,” Sara replied, her eyes focused on her laptop again. “I don’t hear anything from his end.”

“Maybe because your room is farther.” You mumbled under your breath, taking another sip of your coffee.

“Maybe…” Sara elongated her words, reluctant to tell you what she really thinks. “Maybe you tend to hyperfixate your attention to him, that's why every thing he does, you sort of notice or hear it.” 

You stared at Sara for a moment before grimacing at the comment she just told you. Sara didn’t know what she was talking about. She has no idea how much hate you held into that man. She didn’t understand how much you just wished he would leave you alone. 

“He’s the last thing that I could be thinking of when I go to bed.” You shook your head and redacted your statement, “Wait, what am I saying? He’s never in my head. I don’t bother thinking of him.”

“Mhmm…” Sara’s eyes were laser focused on her laptop screen.

She didn’t bother arguing with you if you were only just going to keep denying the real reason as to why you kept up this little game with Joe. However, she didn’t think that Joe would also play the game that you started because he also came knocking on your door one Saturday night. You and Sara were watching a comedy movie in your living room, minding your own business and enjoying your night when you both heard a knock. Both of you exchanged looks for a moment. You both didn’t expect anyone coming over, so who was knocking on your door at this hour? 

The moment you swung the door open, you saw Joe standing there waiting for you. The expression on his face was telling you that he was here to irritate you on your peaceful Saturday night. 

“What do you want, Joe?” You asked, crossing your arms on your chest. 

Joe gave you a smile and said, “Can you please turn your laughter down a little? I can hear it all the way across the hall.” 

Was he playing with you? 

Was this his little revenge from the way you interrupted his little makeout session about a month ago? 

“What? She’s not screaming your name loud enough?” You raised your brow at him, anger already slowly coursing through your veins. 

Joe’s grin widened as he took a step forward. His lips grazed over your earlobe, a shiver sent down your spine when you realized how close he was with you. You could practically feel his breathing on your ear. You stood there frozen, your feet glued to the ground, and you could feel him grinning in your ear.

“I like to hear her moan my name clearly.” He whispered.

Immediately, that good feeling that rushed down your body faded as you scrunch your face and pushed him away from you. He laughed softly, stumbling back, and you could see his eyes twinkling in merriment. 

“You’re fucking disgusting!” You exclaimed. 

“If you don’t keep it down, love, I’m gonna file a complaint.” Joe’s voice sounded playful. 

“Then file a complaint. I don’t fucking care, you disgusting pig!” You yelled before slamming the door on his face. 

Shaking the memories away, you exited out of the elevator and pulled your robe closer to your chest. It was in the middle of the night and luckily for you, Mrs. Johnson was still awake. Sometimes you wonder if she ever slept because she was always in her office 24/7. Although, that was the least of your worries right now. Entering her office, she gazed up at you and immediately her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she let out an annoyed sigh. 

“What is it this time?” She asked. 

“It’s literally been going on for an hour now. I can hear it all the way to my bedroom.” You complained. 

Without saying a word, Mrs. Johnson got up from her chair as you followed her towards the elevator. Tension in the air blanketed the both of you as you both waited for the elevator to take you back up to your floor. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and bit your lower lip. You could see from the corner of your eye that Mrs. Johnson looked pissed. 

When the elevator doors opened, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the tension left between the both of you. You stood behind Mrs. Johnson as she knocked on Joe’s door. You could hear silent voices behind the door suddenly stopped. When the door swung open, you and Mrs. Johnson gasped in surprise and immediately turned away. 

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, turning your back to Joe. 

He was literally naked and a small towel was the only thing covering his front. Mrs. Johnson was even more frustrated as she shook her head, her hands found her hips. 

“Mr. Quinn, is this how you greet your guests?” She asked, her voice cold. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson. I thought it was just her.” Joe disappeared from behind his door and grabbed a bigger towel to wrap it around his waist before stepping out from behind the door again. 

You knitted your brows. What did he mean by that? So, was he doing all of this on purpose? He purposely knew that you were going to be on the other side of the door, so he was acting like this? 

What a fucking asshole.

Your blood was literally boiling as you side eyed him, and he was giving you a devious grin. His eyes were only to you, and he didn’t even care that Mrs. Johnson was literally in front of him. She sighed and rubbed her forehead as she looked over her shoulder to look at you before turning back to Joe. 

“The two of you are literally the worst part of my job.” Mrs. Johnson murmured. 

Your eyes widened as you turned to face both of them. How were you the bad guy all the time? Joe was the one who was always causing trouble, and you were just telling her the truth! 

“He’s literally the one who’s making noises all the time!” You argued.

Joe scoffed at your argument, “Me? I can hear your goose laugh all the way to my apartment all the time!”

Your jaw dropped on the floor as you took a step forward towards him, your eyes sparking in anger. 

“Oh, yeah? Does the whole floor really have to hear you having sex all the time?”

“Does the whole floor have to hear your annoying laugh all the time?” Joe argued, taking a step forward towards you too.

“At least I’m not a fuckboy who brings different women every night, thinking he’s all that.”

“At least I’m not spending my weekends with cheap pizza and a pint of ice cream all the time.”

“I’ll rather spend my Saturday nights with cheap pizza and a pint of ice cream than breaking a woman’s heart and leading them on, acting like I’m interested but really, I’m just a player who loves the fucking attention!”

Joe knitted his brows, his eyes blinking at the argument you threw at him. Suddenly, he realized there was a deeper meaning in the sentence that you just yelled at him. He stared at you, stunned and didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Johnson pushed the both of you away from each other as she stepped in between the two of you. 

“Enough!” She exclaimed. 

Joe saw the look on your face when you realized what you told him as the both of you slowly looked away from each other and turned to Mrs. Johnson, who looked angry and exhausted. 

“I’ve had enough of both of you! One more complaint and I will kick the both of you out of here!”

Your mouth hung open in shock as Mrs. Johnson pointed at you and then at Joe, giving the both of you a warning look before walking away. Your nose flared in anger as you gave Joe a cold side eye. He also looked stunned from what Mrs. Johnson just said. You were mentally punching Joe in your head at the moment. You wouldn’t be in this situation if he would just shut up for once and stop pressing your buttons. 

Exhaling a sharp frustrated breath, you turned and walked back to your apartment.

“Hey.” Joe called out. 

Pausing in your tracks, you turned to him. “What?!”

Joe walked closer to you, his chocolate button eyes staring deeply into yours. For some reason, there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t describe what it was. It was almost too genuine, but you doubt it. He was an actor. He could pretend anytime he wanted to. 

“I’ll keep the noise down.” He stated sternly. “If you start talking nice to me.”

His face was inches close to yours as you smiled and glanced down at his bare chest. Your index finger grazing over his soft skin, making Joe hitch his breath. He could feel his skin burning under your touch, and he tried to hold himself together as he felt his face flushed. Then, suddenly, the smile on your face fell.

“I’ll rather live on the streets than be nice to you!” You stated. 

Then, your fingers found the hem of his towel before you yanked it down and immediately turned your back to him, smiling deviously. You didn’t even bother looking back as you walked towards your apartment.

“Hey!” Joe exclaimed, immediately picking up his towel and covering his front. 

Before you could close your front door, you cheekily grinned as you watched him walk back to his apartment, his bum literally hanging out in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare at it before closing the door. 

“I told you that this was going to happen!” Sara scolded you the next morning when you had told her Mrs. Johnson’s warning from last night. 

You bit your lower lip, feeling your blood rushed to your cheeks. Sara was furious, and you couldn’t blame her because you knew how many times she had warned you about this and the day had finally come. 

“I’ll try to stop.” You murmured, hanging your head low.

“You better because I want to keep living here.” Sara barked. “That little game you and Joe are playing is not just about you two. It’s affecting my living situation too, and I’m sure everyone on this floor is sick of it too.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”  

Sara sighed and shook her head as comfortable silence blanketed the living room. You knew that this time, you had fucked up. This time, it was partly your fault for bringing Sara into this mess. 

“I’m sorry.” You said again, interrupting the silence. “I’ll try to be… civil.”

“It’s okay.” Sara murmured. “Before you told me about this, I actually have something to tell you. Maybe it will help you to avoid Joe.”

“What is it?” 

“My co-worker Garrett saw the picture of us on my Instagram, and he was wondering if he could take you out on a date.”

You raised your brow at her, reluctant about the idea. 

“I hope he’s not an asshole.”

“He’s not. He’s really nice.” Sara smiled excitedly. “He’s blond, has green eyes and he works in Finance.”

You chuckled softly at the description that Sara gave you. You knew that she knew how picky you were with men. It had to be someone that was your type when it came to looks besides the fact that you were also picky with their personality. It was no wonder as to why you were still single until now. 

“Well, if he’s so nice and beautiful, why don’t you date him?” 

Sara shrugged and said, “Because I don’t like him like that. We’re just friends.”

You let out a soft hum as you thought over the suggestion that Sara gave you. You didn’t really want to go and date someone that you didn’t know. Someone you haven’t met at all, and you truly didn’t like being set up on a blind date. However, maybe Sara was right. This might help you avoid Joe. You could see him less if you had your attention to someone else. 

“Fine.” You agreed. “But if this doesn’t work out, it’ll be all your fault.”

Sara laughed softly. “Alright, alright.” 

********

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