#I HAD TO GET THIS OUT IMMEDIATELY SORRY I WILL DOUBLE CHECK WITH OFFICIALS LATER

[darkcircles4lyfe]

the 2nd user is an enigma to everyone...

...including All for One?

It would seem our time spent wondering about 2nd's quirk has come to an end. I guess I should put my old theory to rest? Well, hang on. I noticed something weird.

Please note that as of posting this official translations are not out, so I might easily be mistaken, but I'm under the impression that All for One did not know about 2nd's quirk. There are a few things that set up this implied detail:

It is established at the start of the chapter that AFO is the one in control, at least for the moment. So we know we're getting his POV in narration.

When Izuku uses Blackwhip and Fa Jin, AFO calls them old tricks that won't work on him. He's familiar with these quirks.

When Izuku activates Transmission, AFO is taken aback. He describes the power's appearance as completely different from before, and he doesn't seem to know what's happening right away.

When he describes what the quirk does, he's deducing it, which is odd. From this we can actually infer a couple of things besides him not knowing about it. First of all this must mean that the Search quirk AFO stole from Ragdoll can't see into One for All's additional accumulated quirks, otherwise he would have anticipated 2nd. This also means, dare I say it, that AFO is an unreliable narrator when he describes 2nd's quirk as "a meta ability that enables the user to shift the speed of anything he touches." He's making an observation using the given evidence, not stating a fact. 2nd strikes me as a very secretive person, so it seems possible to me that AFO never met him, or at least never experienced his quirk firsthand. Indeed, maybe no information exists about his quirk because he never told anyone about it. I can see how 2nd’s support items could be designed to conceal the use of his quirk to make projectile weapons move faster. They conceal his whole hand and forearm, so no one could see what he’s doing inside. 

Hell, maybe the way Izuku is currently using Transmission is also a misdirection. Let me once again call attention to the fact that 2nd told Izuku that his quirk evolved into something PARTICULARLY UNIQUE. THAT CANNOT BE WIELDED THE USUAL WAY.  Now I don't know about you, but the power we have been shown does not fit my criteria of unique, and Izuku seems like he wielded it pretty "usually." The previous scene made it seem like he tried and FAILED to use it before, so how come it came to him so easily only minutes later? I really really hope this is because we haven't seen the full reveal yet. Perhaps using this power now comes at some greater cost to the user. Perhaps we are only seeing one of its uses. It should be pointed out here that while the locked door imagery was used in reference to 2nd's quirk in ch 349, it was not used here. So, something hasn't been unlocked yet?

I think now I’ve reached the end of my rope in reasonable theorizing, but I want to mention one more thing. The name of 2nd’s quirk, Transmission. in Japanese it is called トランスミッション which looks to me like it’s borrowed directly from English, and it means exactly the same thing. Two things, actually. It can refer to the transmission of a motor vehicle, but more generally, transmission can of course refer to the action of transmitting something, anything. A message, an emotion, an energy, a thing, an idea...a quirk? I can’t get it out of my head. This feels so suspicious to me given the nature and origin of One for All itself as a power that is transferred.  What if 2nd is actually directly responsible for the transference of OFA? What if his own quirk holds that ability, and once he gave it to Yoichi, it merged with the power stockpiling quirk AFO gave him? The story we were given about Yoichi not actually being quirkless and unknowingly having a power that passes on... the ability to be passed on(???)--it’s rather flimsy, no? Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. We don’t even know how Yoichi was able to figure out he could give OFA away. Makes me think, if it’s not simply bad writing on Horikoshi’s part, it could be a lie constructed to further keep Transmission a secret. I mean, seriously, what if Transmission created One for All? Of course they’d want to keep that information from AFO. 

So Transmission + power stockpiling quirk = OFA, which in itself also gathers and powers up existing quirks, including the original Transmission quirk. Now imagine, what could Transmission do now that it’s powered up? What could it turn around do to OFA? 

Oh yeah, also, uhhh, this could be super relevant to Izuku and Katsuki finally holding hands? 

[steponmeinejghafa]

Little Disturbance

Summary: Alina and Aleksander are in a meeting, when you decide to disrupt it very, very, very politely. Which later leads to a nice, fluff-filled evening.

Darklina x Fem!Child!Reader

Warnings: None. Unless you count tooth-rotting fluff!

Age: 5

Note: For the sake of the story, Baghra is alive, and both the Darkling and Alina rule Ravka.

———

To be honest, sometimes your grandmother was a bit…dull. As much as you loved hanging out in her house, eating food every waking moment, it did get a bit boring. She had no interesting books, apart from Grisha hand manuals, and some books on lore so ancient it hadn’t been translated.

Granted, she told you stories of your father when he was younger, but even stories could keep a five year old entertained so much.

“Nana,” you said, looking up from your game with a few dolls Aleksander had made for you, “When can I meet Mama and Papa?”

Baghra, who was reading by the fireplace, replied, “They’re in a meeting, child. You are not to see them till the Palace’s dinner bell goes.”

“But I wanna check if they’re okay!” You whined, leaning forward to catch at her skirt with your small hands.

“If they weren’t okay, then we’d have known by know,” sighed the woman before nudging at your hands with her own. “Stop that fiddling, child.”

You did want to meet your parents, so you made a very logical decision when your grandmother wasn’t looking.

You stood up from the floor where you’d been playing and made a run for it.

You dashed down shortcuts and pathways, laughing at Baghra’s exclamations for you to stop.

You avoided Zoya, swerved around Genya, even tripped up poor Feydor, who was trying his best not to dirty his new boots, all to get to that meeting room.

You found the massive double doors which you’d been asked to never step inside of when they were closed, and pushed them open with all your might anyway, ignoring the guards who exclaimed at you to stop.

You went unnoticed as you closed the well-oiled door carefully, and you noticed your mother’s familiar kefta as well as the bun she wore whenever she had an official meeting.

You heard your father talking authoritatively and resisted the urge to run to him, and instead walked over to your mother.

Alina gasped softly upon feeling someone tug at her kefta sleeve, and laughed softly when she saw you grinning up at her. She quickly lifted you up and placed you on her lap such that you were facing her, asking in a low voice, “Did you sneak from Nana’s house all the way here?”

“Yes,” you grinned and nodded. “I escaped.”

“Oh, yes, my little escape artist,” she chuckled, kissing your nose. “Why? We’re you bored?”

“A little,” you nodded. “But I wanted to make sure you and Papa were okay!”

“Darling, if something happened to Mama and Papa, then you’d know immediately,” she said, turning you on her lap so that you faced the rest of the council members.

“I was missing you, Mama!” You whined, leaning into her.

“Alright, little one,” smiled Alina, squeezing you a little. “Be very quiet while this meeting goes on, okay?”

You nodded and listened to your father talking, catching his eye and smiling as he shot you a wink. He looked at Alina, who shook her head, then nodded at the board which had the map of Ravka on it.

One of the councilmen, Igor Romanov, raised his hand and inquired, “Er, sir, why is there a child in the room? I believe she is too young to be listening to this conversation and,” he glanced at Alina, who was coping at you as she let you play with her fingers, “Seems to be a bit of a distraction.”

“Councilman Romanov,” said your father, his face set like stone, “I appreciate your…concern, but as long as I am not distracted by the child, I don’t think any of you should pay her any mind.”

Feydor then burst into the room, panting as he apologised profusely, “I am so sorry, sir. I will escort her to her rooms if need be—“

“There will be no need, Feydor,” said Alina turning in her chair a little to face him. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my queen,” he bowed and excused himself.

“Now, as I was saying…” Aleksander’s voice continued what he’d been discussing earlier, and you slowly began to nod off in Alina’s arms, your father’s smooth baritone voice calming to your ears.

The meeting ended shortly, and Alina smiled and cooed at your sleeping figure, as your held her hand tightly as you did. Once the councilmen emptied out, Aleksander walked over and kissed his wife’s head, then yours, which startled you awake.

“Papa!” You squealed, reaching out to hug him.

“Hello, moya malenk’ya printessa (my little princess),” he smiled and lifted you off Alina’s lap, swinging you up and placing you back down again, earning a laugh from you. “How was your time with Nana?” He placed you on his hip, your mother walking beside him.

“A bit boring,” you admitted.

“And why did you come to the meeting room after Mama told you not to?” He asked, eyebrow raised, but a smile on his face.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay!” You said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I-“ he faltered for a moment, caught Alina’s eye, and proceeded to burst out laughing.

“Papa! It’s not funny!” You frowned. “Mama, tell him!”

“Aleksander,” said Alina, pausing her laughter and putting on a mock-serious glare. “Y/n is right. We could have been seriously injured. She can protect us, you know.”

Aleksander wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and said, “Ah, yes, of course my love. Indeed, indeed.”

The three of you went to the main palace, where you greeted the doormen happily, who simply bowed and stepped aside for you all to enter.

“Mama,” you asked, eyes on the doormen with their stony faces and blank eyes. “Why don’t they say hello back?”

“Oh, they’re not supposed to, little one,” Alina replied, gesturing for Aleksander to place you down. “There are rules for everything and everyone here.”

“That sounds boring,” you said, running around them. “I don’t like boring things.”

“Then you must bear with your Nana, because she loves you very much,” said your father, ruffling your hair. Alina gasped and hit him on his shoulder, earning an ‘ow’ from his end.

“That is your mother, Aleksander,” she scowled.

“Yes, yes, sorry, my love,” he nodded, rubbing the place where she’d hit him.

Alina scooped you up from where you were running around and said, “Someone needs to take a bath,” she placed you on her hip and smiled at you, “My little one smells like smoke and cloves. Did Nana decide to have you help her cooking lunch?”

You nodded, “Yes!” And giggled as you pulled out the pin which kept your mother’s hair up, earning a gasp from her when she took the pin from you.

“And I though I’d be the one to do that tonight,” Aleksander whispered in his wife’s ear, making a blush spread over her cheeks.

“Aleksander, please, there is a child present,” she chided.

She took you to their room, placing you on the bed and picking out a nightdress of your choice as Aleksander tickled and laughed with you.

“Thank god, no more meetings for another two days,” laughed Alina as she took you to the bathroom, Aleksander sitting on the bed, reading a book.

“Mama,” you said, reaching for the laces of your dress. “I heard from Genya that there’s going to be a travelling circus and carnival coming to the town tomorrow ! Can we go?”

Alina helped you with the laces and smiled, “Well, if you do your lessons properly tomorrow without trying to escape, then maybe we can go.”

“Yes!” You squealed, sitting in the tub and letting her bathe you quickly, singing a soft Ravkan song to keep you occupied.

“There,” she said, tying your hair in a braid. “Now my little one’s much fresher.”

You nodded and smiled, running into your parents’ bedroom, leaping on your father with a bright grin, making him laugh and place his book away.

“Mama said we can go to the circus tomorrow!” You squealed. “You’ll come with us, right?”

“Of course, little one,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “Family day.”

“I’m gonna win a crow figurine this time for sure!” You said, turning your stag figurine in your hands, which Alina kept on the bedside table before you’d bathed.

“What all have you won so far?” He asked, picking you up and taking you to your room, Alina close behind as she talked in a hushed voice to a servant who’d handed her a letter.

You pointed at the shelf on your bookcase which was full of animal figurines from a long time of your father and mother helping you win them at every carnival which came to town.

“I’ve got a stag, a lion, a lynx…” you rambled on, naming every single animal on your shelf, placing the stag on its place carefully.

“What do you say to a puzzle before bed?” Your father asked after having listened to your long talk about different animals.

“Puzzle!” You grinned. Aleksander knew you loved puzzles. The picture ones or the brain teasers which one of his Durasts would make almost every day, you and him always sat and solved them together. If he couldn’t do it because of work, he’d solve two with you the next day.

He pulled out two paper packages from his kefta pockets, placing them in front of you. “Which one?” He asked with a smile.

You thought for a moment and pointed at the one on the left, which he handed to you, and took the right one for himself.

You opened it to find a simple cube of interlocking pieces, one of which you took out to disassemble the whole cube.

Alina sat next to you, pulling you into her lap as you started to figure out how to solve your puzzle.

Aleksander had a wooden six-point star, which he took apart and began to try and reassemble, while Alina and you both ganged up on him, her helping you with your puzzle, while Aleksander struggled with his.

“That is not fair, you cannot use your intellectual strength to defeat me!” Complained your father.

Someone knocked at the door, and Alina placed you off her lap to open it.

“Aleksander,” she said, seeing Feydor, “It’s for you.”

Aleksander placed down his puzzle and sighed, ruffling your hair as you continued to try solving your puzzle.

Alina sat back with you, listening to you talk about random things as you took apart the puzzle for what felt like the tenth time, grumbling in frustration.

“Papa,” you whined, “I can’t solve it!”

“Just a minute, moya malen’kya printessa,” he said, before glaring back at Feydor.

Alina noticed their interaction becoming more and more heated in whispers, and decided to step in.

“Is everything alright?” Asked the Sun Summoner, frowning slightly, standing next to Aleksander.

“I have to go to Novyi Zem,” he muttered. “Tonight. The governor needs me at a meeting for their economical security matters.”

“At this hour?” Asked Alina, her brow furrowing further. “Can’t it wait? You promised Y/n about the circus and carnival.”

“I’m afraid this matter is a bit too grave, and can’t be avoided,” sighed Aleksander. “And I think the two of us will have to go.”

“Sadly yes,” said Feydor. “The governor has requested both of you to be there.”

“Oh for Saints’ sake—“ scoffed Alina. “We have a child to take care of, doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“Nannies are something I can sugges—“ Feydor began, but was cut off by a glare from both your parents.

“I refuse to be some absent parent in my child’s life for the sake of convenience, Feydor,” said your father. “Inform the governor that Alina and I will be able to make it day after tomorrow, due to personal matters.”

“Mama…” you whined trudging over to Alina and tugging at her kefta, “I need help with my puzzle!”

“If you both could take this conversation outside, I’d appreciate it,” your mother said authoritatively. She took your hand and sat on the bed, helping you with your puzzle.

“Do you and Papa have to go again?” You asked, pouting as you looked at your mother with big, watery, e/c eyes.

“No, no,” she shook her head, pulling you into her lap for a cuddle. “We are not going anywhere, my love.”

You sniffled and buried your face in her now-open hair, your small hands fisting in her kefta’s soft fabric, relaxing a bit when she rubbed your back soothingly.

Aleksander rushed over after having told Feydor what to do, and immediately asked frantically, “What’s wrong, Y/n, my love?”

You mumbled and hid your face in Alina’s neck, and she explained that you were upset because she and him might have to go away for a trip again.

Your father took you in his lap and said, “I postponed the meeting to day after, so we can go to the carnival and get you your crow figure. We are going to have the best day in history, I promise you that.”

You nodded and yawned, nuzzling into him as he patted your back gently to lull you to sleep.

“She’s a Papa’s girl for sure,” laughed Alina, caressing your hair.

“Absolutely,” nodded Aleksander as he gently placed you down to lay on the bed.

Before they could leave, you caught Alina’s hand and opened your eyes with a pout.

“Mama,” you said tiredly, “Sing, please.”

Laughing softly, Alina lay beside you, propping herself up on her elbow as you curled up into her relaxing as she began to stroke your hair. On your other side sat your father, who’s hand you held firmly.

Alina began singing Ravkan lullabies, and Aleksander accompanied the ones he knew. You slowly fell asleep, and Aleksander soon realised he was the only one singing, as Alina, too, had fallen asleep, with you curled into her an her arm draped protectively across you.

He smiled and placed a blanket over the two of you, before pausing upon feeling your hand tighten over his. He lay down too, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as you snuggled closer to him.

And so, your evening concluded, with you asleep in your parents arms, a true image of tranquility.

———

Hi! It’s me, Anne! I hope you like this one, please feel free to request!

[kmgkmg]

YES NO MAYBE - JEON WONWOO

word count: 1.7k…

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

synopsis: wonwoo sits down for an interview after his pictorial to answer some questions, what he wasn't expecting was you to be the one interviewing him.

genre/s: angst, idol!wonwoo, ex!wonwoo, magazine editor!reader

warnings: none!

rating: pg

a/n: submission for k-label's firsts for everything event! the title and fic are inspired by bae suzy's solo debut with yes no maybe! while the title track is def the biggest inspiration, i relied on all of the mini album since it's one of my absolute favorites of kpop. also leaned into iu's discography a lot and ending scene was another inspiration. thank you @gyusangels and @hwasangelbaby for being the beta readers!

Wonwoo’s steps can be heard against the floor as he enters the studio. People are still shuffling about busily, setting up before the shoot officially starts. Next to the clothing racks, various conceptual pictures are taped all along the wall. He scans the pictures, trying his best to get a grasp of what vibe he had to emulate for the day. 

The continuous clicking sounds of the camera’s shutter rings in Wonwoo’s ears while the flashes of light hurt his eyes. On top of that, the studio booms with loud music to set the mood for the shoot. With each flash, Wonwoo subtly readjusts himself to a new pose. Five outfit changes along with five different hairstyles and makeup looks. Exhausted is an understatement. The shoot proceeds for nearly three hours before finally getting the last shot approved by the magazine’s staff. 

“You were absolutely terrific!” The enthusiastic photographer praises Wonwoo and Wonwoo immediately turns bashful. He’s weak to compliments, especially when the cameras are turned off.  

His manager approaches him with a water bottle and a handheld fan. 

“Are we done for the day then?” Wonwoo asks after sipping and starts to take the uncomfortable jacket off.

His manager avoids his eyes, an indication to Wonwoo that the day was not over. “You still have the Q&A video to film. Their Chief Editor is interviewing you.”

He pats his manager’s shoulder, reassuring him to not worry. “Q&A videos are a breeze! What do you want to grab for lunch afterwards?”

“Today’s weather is perfect for…sushi?” His manager suggests. 

Wonwoo is energized by the thought of eating sushi later on. “Now that you have motivated me, this interview will be done in no time!”

“Chief Editor L/N!” One of your employees greets you, making the others aware of your presence. You are distracted by the conversation on your phone and briefly greet the employees before finishing the phone call. 

Wonwoo is already waiting at the table that the staff set up, but his eyes dart up as he looks for you. He knew you worked at Vogue, but Vogue is a huge company. He never expected that he’d run into you like this, nearly a year after you dumped him. 

You sit behind the camera wordlessly, pulling your laptop out of your work bag. Straightening your posture on the chair, you double check that the camera is recording. “Seventeen’s Wonwoo, thank you for joining us today.” 

He’s thrown off by your extremely professional behavior. Nobody knew about your past relationship besides Seventeen, but you were treating him like a complete stranger. His initial shock dies down, but it's clear on his face that he’s experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions from your presence.  

His words spill out thoughtlessly, “So, you’ve been promoted to Chief Editor?”

You exchange glances with the staff around you, all looking back at you with quizzical expressions. Double-checking the flashing red dot on the camera, you reply curtly. “Yes, I’ve been Chief Editor for about seven months. Usually the managing editor conducts the interviews, but he had a family emergency today. We’re deeply sorry that we weren’t able to inform you sooner.”  

“No need to apologize!” Wonwoo replies, becoming aware of his surroundings once again. Flashing a wide smile to the camera, he turns on his idol persona. Staff around the studio begin gushing about his kind behavior as you look for which fan questions to read. 

“Do you have any plans on releasing any more videos or photos for Carats?”

“I plan to hold a traveling exhibition of my photography early next year! I can’t give too much away right now, but Carats will definitely love it.” 

A smile crept onto your face, glad that the ideas he bounced off of you were coming to fruition. “Do the members still ask you to take their pictures a lot?”

He blinks his eyes rapidly, surprised at your memory. “Yes, they do! At this point, DK, The8, and I are practically the assigned Instagram photographers in the group.”

You nod, and prepare yourself to read the next comment. “Ballad lover, Jeon Wonwoo! I love your music taste so much! What song have you been hooked on lately?”

“I’ve mentioned IU a lot in the past since her music means a lot to me. Luckily, Carats really enjoyed my cover of her song Knees. These days, I’ve been listening to The Visitor by her. The melody is very catchy and the instrumental is stripped back which adds a special layer of sentimentality to the track. I especially love the lyrics for the hook. ‘Why do I still love you? Why do I sing about you? Why do I still wait for you?  Babe I love you.’” He responds, purposefully looking away from the camera and instead having his eyes fixate on you. 

His longing gaze goes unnoticed by you as you type a note to the video editor to add IU’s in song during post production. “Wonwoo, I’m addicted to books like you! Which books are the most newly purchased in your library?”

“Book Park Lounge had a sale a week ago! I bought about eight new books? Greek Lessons by the author Han Kang has been insanely interesting so far. Although the novel came out in April, it was sold out in all of the bookstores around me immediately. Please, check it out if you enjoy books about the beauty of humanity. My rambling isn’t doing the book justice, just know that once you pick the book up, you won’t be able to put it down.”

You memorize the book’s title, secretly missing the reading lists he would make you. “Any recent activities you did with the members that you can share?”

Wonwoo takes a second to think, lightly tapping his fingers on the table’s surface. “Me and Minghao went to a tea tasting and blending workshop. I’ve recently been more interested in tea, so he suggested that I tag along with him. It was a really rewarding time, I got exposure to a lot of new flavors!”

“Since you made your own tea blend, do you have any tips for people that follow your steps and try making their own blends?”

“Great question!” He compliments, turning silent as he thinks of the best universally liked ingredient. “Dried rose petals are my recommendation. They are easy to add to any tea blend in my opinion, plus, the quantity that you add can customize how much you want the flavor to stand out. Minghao would probably recommend others’ first experience with tea to be a tea ceremony instead. I’ve done both and the ceremonies tend to focus on patience and maintaining steady hands.”

Hesitating to move on to the next question, you review your coworker’s email with the prewritten questions. “Do we have to ask every question here?” 

Wonwoo tilts his head in confusion, “Why not?”

“Very well. Wonwoo, have you ever regretted letting go of something or someone?” 

“Yes.” His immediate reply causes his manager to approach you and ask for it to be edited out. Wonwoo sees the interaction and tries his best to fix his mistake. “Actually, no… Well, maybe? At the time, I found myself asking a lot, what does my heart actually want? It’s strange, isn’t it? I mean how humans don’t understand their hearts at times. But by the time I realized what I wanted, it was far too late. So yes, I’m full of regret.”  

You look back at his manager, whose mouth is slightly agape over Wonwoo’s candid answer. Picking up on the manager’s flustered state, you skip to the last question. “What are your plans for the rest of the year?”

He tries his best to sound energetic again, “Well, Seventeen always tries to be as active as we can! Although a little less than half of the year is left, we will meet you very soon with new music and performances!” 

“Can you do the outro?”

“See you all next time! Subscribe, like, and comment to Vogue’s YouTube channel!” Wonwoo waves goodbye with both hands and you stand up to turn off the camera. 

He walks over to you as he stretches his arms. “Can we think about us again?”

You continue fidgeting with the camera and say in a low voice, “Wonwoo. Stop saying, let’s think about it again. You know better than anyone that we probably wouldn't last a day.”

“But, Y/N, life without you isn’t the same…” His eyes turn desperate. More eyes are on the two of you, unaware that you were so deeply acquainted with one another.  

“Follow me.” You excuse yourself from the studio with Wonwoo listening to your words.

He has a hopeful glint to his eyes now, biting down on his lip to contain his excitement. He’s at a complete loss of how to predict what you’re going to say. 

You’re shaking from the anger of his unprofessionalism. Wonwoo realizes your emotions and his face turns solemn. 

“What is with you today, Wonwoo? It’s obvious we’ll hurt each other again, so stop saying you can’t live without me. Please, just meet someone who will love you more than I did.” 

He looks down at his feet and mumbles, “You act like that is an easy task, Y/N.” 

“Wonwoo, I’m with someone else now. You’re the one that wanted us to date quietly and we broke up just as quietly. Now, let go of me quietly.” You request, not once faltering in front of him. 

Without giving him time to respond, you walk back towards the studio’s doors and hold one open for him. His feet move without him thinking, trudging back into the studio. 

His manager is talking to the photographer about which photos should be excluded from the final cut. Once he notices Wonwoo's return, he finishes the conversation effortlessly. 

“Ready for some sushi?”

Wonwoo takes one last look in your direction and sees you engrossed in your work as employees crowd you. Yes, he misses you more than anything. But no, he knows that you don’t feel the same. So maybe, it’s time for him to follow your wishes and let go of you. 

He clears his throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

[streetcornertwoam]

Bruh...

I just fucking hate him

It's been over 10 yrs, and you still REMEMBER MY PHONE NUMBER?? Are GIVING IT OUT TO PEOPLE?? STOP

Like what the actual fuck

Context: I had a missed call and voicemail when I woke up this morning. Figured it was just spam, but listened to it earlier to just double check, and then delete and the first couple of words I hear are his name. So that IMMEDIATELY threw me. I had to replay it 'cause I was so confused. Basically it was some lady calling from some...court payment thing, I don't even know, reaching out TO HIM about paying something or other to do with the county clerks office

And you give them MY NUMBER WHY???? This also isn't the first time this has happened. I had a very similar voice message left several yrs back now about almost the same thing. I don't remember exactly what it was about, but I do remember it having to do with paying fines or tickets or something

And then, and I just remembered this, it was shortly after we broke up and stopped talking I was receiving texts about how he wasn't showing up for the Marines or something, and he needed to get into contact or something. I don't know. Again, this shit was over 10 yrs now and I remember thinking then, so you signed up and just what... fucked completely off?? Idk

BUT...this shit of over 10 yrs and you can still remember my number??? (Admittedly, as far as phone numbers go it's pretty easy but nonetheless) And just are seemingly SUPER OK with giving it out to people?? Why?? I didn't do fucking anything to you. YOU fucked me over. YOU stole money from me and my family. YOU stayed with us for MONTHS when your parents kicked you out (or did they actually? did you just claim that's what happened 'cause you wanted out, and figured we'd help you? I honestly don't know anymore). YOU somehow got my MOM'S information so that YOU could set up a phone ON HER ACCOUNT FOR YOURSELF. I wasn't the best girlfriend. We should have broken up LONG before we did. I was beyond immature, and I'm sure I did guilt you into staying with me longer than you wanted. But the thing is...you really still could have left at anytime. You eventually got to the point where that's what you wanted, and made it happen. Again, admittedly I think my family also kinda pushed the issue 'cause they caught you out with another girl and called you on your bullshit. So hey, who knows, maybe you would have just stayed living here and going off doing whatever if you'd never been caught. I wouldn't half doubt it. 'Cause even I KNEW you were cheating. Fucking coming back with hickeys all over your neck. Like...I wasn't gonna see? Or did you just want me to see and end it 'cause you were too big of a fucking puss to do it yourself?? I don't know. I hate that even now after all this time, it still can get me riled up like this. It's stupid. And lowkey maybe it still gets to me 'cause we never got to hash shit out. You just left, and I was still so stupidly in love and was miserable, and you still texted every now and then, and kept giving me false hope. Until months later my mom found out about the phone thing, and after that it was over. I never spoke to you again, you never tried to reach out again. After that it really sunk in that, oh...no we're over over. It's never gonna work out. We're officially done done. I never got to confront you about any of this. And while I could message you on facebook (which you also tried to friend me on years ago you fucking freak), and say my peace. It just...it honestly doesn't matter. Would it maybe help me to get past all this? Yea maybe. But I'd honestly be afraid of what you'd try and potentially pull up or something, that I don't feel it worth my time.

If I didn't have such anxiety I'd at least call that woman back, and be like I'm sorry this is number doesn't belong to who you think it does, and I have no way of getting in touch with him or how to tell you to do it. But he's a lying piece of shit, and don't trust anything he says. And if it could written down somewhere that if he ever tries to give this number again, call him out on it and tell him you know that it's not his ACTUAL number.

Like you wanna give out a number that doesn't belong to you, fine. I don't care. But why MINE?? Like seriously why fucking mine. 'Cause you know they're gonna call and I'm gonna have to hear your stupid ass name, and then it's gonna just wreck my entire day? For why. We'd known each other since we were 5 goddamn yrs old. We dated for 3 1/2 yrs. But sure whatever dude. If that's your way of getting back at me, or just trying to get to me...or I honestly don't know. But it's done. I'm done.

I'm typing all this and sending it out into the ether in the hopes of clearing my mind, and hopefully moving the fuck on. I blocked that number, so at least I can't get any more calls from it. But that doesn't mean future ones won't come in still. But maybe the next time it does, I'll be able to handle it better. And by that I mean, listen to the call, roll my eyes, and immediately block and delete.

[homoose]

Quick Learner, Slow Lover: Part II

Summary: Literally just a 40 Year Old Virgin AU. This time, reader shows Spencer a whole new world of possibilities. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18 + (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: oral (both receiving), fingering, I think that’s it actually

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: Huge thanks to all the babies on my sideblog @softspence for helping with the inspiration for this one, and @gubetube​ for being my beta! ♥️ virgin!Spence is near and dear to my heart.

Series Masterlist

———

After their first escapade, Spencer was called away on a case in southern California. A week into the BAU’s investigation in the desert didn’t have them any closer to solving it, and the team retreated to their respective hotel rooms for a few hours of rest. The second his head hit the pillow, Spencer’s phone was out and dialing. 

She picked up on the third ring, stifling a yawn. “Hi.”

“Hi. Sorry it’s so late,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay.” He could hear her snuggling down under the covers. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He brought one of the hotel pillows closer, cuddling up against it and letting out a sigh. “I was thinking we could go to that new restaurant around the corner from you when I get back to DC.”

“Mmm, yeah, that sounds nice,” she agreed. He heard her sigh a little into the phone, then she continued, “We could also, um— try some more things.”

His head was constantly full of their first night together, and he basically had not stopped thinking about more things since he’d come in his pants on the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Good, because the possibilities are endless, Dr. Reid.”

He let his eyes close, let a smile play over his features, and let his mind relax for a second… and then his eyes were shooting open, and his brain was on overdrive, running through the pieces of the case in rapid succession. “I— I think I just figured something out. I— I have to go. I’ll— can I call you later?”

She laughed a little on the other end. “Go save some lives, Spence.”

The team stumbled off the jet less than 24 hours later, exhausted but more than satisfied with the outcome of the case— in large part thanks to Spencer’s late night epiphany. 

“O’Keefe’s for a round?” Luke asked. “First one’s on me.”

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone... except Spencer. “Sorry, guys— rain check,” he called, already halfway across the bullpen and pulling on his jacket. He was through the double doors before anyone could ask any questions. 

He loved the team, and he’d come to enjoy nights out with them, but right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. As he navigated the darkened streets of DC, he considered the predicament he’d found himself in. They were going on two months of official dating, but they’d been sort of seeing each other for nearly a month before that. 

Even before he’d met her, Penelope had gushed about her constantly— a wonderful friend that she’d made through her new job, kind and smart and funny and lovely. What Penelope hadn’t mentioned was how beautiful she was— and he’d subsequently made a fool of himself when they first met: staring and stumbling over his words. 

She hadn’t seemed to mind, and over the course of the evening, she’d proven to be every bit as lovely as Penelope had described, and then some. 

He pulled up outside her apartment, shutting the door and hauling himself and his go-bag out of the car and up the sidewalk. He ran a slightly self conscious hand over his hair, checked his appearance in the glass of the foyer door, and then buzzed her apartment. 

She buzzed him in, and he took the stairs two at a time, rounding the landing just to see her opening the door. The second he dropped his bag, he was wrapping her up in a hug and knocking the breath out of her. She expelled the air into his shoulder and then laughed as he clung to her.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she teased. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, too content to be embarrassed.

Her arms came around him, and she squeezed him tight in response. “I missed you, too.” She held onto him for a moment longer before pulling back. “You must be exhausted. Are you hungry?”

Almost as if on cue, his stomach growled loud enough for them both to hear it. She cackled at his sheepish smile. “Chinese, Indian, or pizza?”

…

An hour later, they were two slices deep and cuddled together on the couch at the end of an episode of Dr. Who. She was tucked under his arm, her warm palm low on his tummy, her thumb rubbing a slow, repetitive path. As the credits rolled, she lifted her head to smile at him. “Tired?”

“A little.” His brain couldn’t focus on anything other than the warmth of her body pressed up against him, her hand so close to where he was desperate for her. He wanted her, but he didn’t know how to ask. “We can… try some things, though,” he decided on.

She brushed his hair back and met his eyes. “We don’t have to. Just because we did, doesn’t mean we’re obligated to every time we’re together.” She tilted her head. “You know that, right?”

He could feel the flush flooding his cheeks immediately, and he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course.” Of course she didn’t want to do anything more with him. He was probably terrible at it before, and she just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He shifted to stand from the couch, gathering up their plates and turning to bring them to the kitchen, desperate for a minute to collect himself. 

He could feel her eyes on him. “Spence?” He set the plates in the sink, taking a deep breath and then turning to see that she’d followed him. She pressed her lips together, considering him with kind eyes. “You wanna let me in on whatever it is you’re thinking?”

He hesitated, tapping his fingers on the tops of his thighs, before deciding he should just come out with it. “I know I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to… sex.” The last part came out in a low murmur— it seemed lewd to discuss this in the middle of her kitchen. “I’m sorry it wasn’t very good for you, and I’m not exactly sure how to fix that, but—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she chuckled. “Slow your roll. When did I ever say it wasn’t good for me?”

The memory of her— in his lap, her head thrown back, his fingers on her, his name falling from her lips— was suddenly on repeat in his mind. “I, um— I guess you didn’t.” 

“I definitely didn’t,” she confirmed, stepping a little closer. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it… a lot.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You have?”

“Mmhmm.” She brought her hand back to his tummy, just above his waistband, then ran it up the line of buttons on his shirt, stopping just above his heart. She met his gaze with soft eyes. “I just didn’t want you to think that— that sex is all I want to do with you. Or that you have to rush to make me happy. And it’s important that you know that if you’re tired, or overwhelmed, or just not in the mood, I don’t— you know, expect you to have sex with me.” 

His heart leapt into his throat at the way she curled her fingers in his collar, the way she smiled quietly while he collected his thoughts, the way she gave him grace and space to consider his wants and needs. He was dangerously in love already, and he wasn’t sure quite how to say it without being the stupid virgin who fell in love with the first person he slept with. 

And even with all of these thoughts of content and love and uncertainty swirling through his brain… he still really wanted to fuck her. 

“I’m not that tired,” he breathed. 

Her smile turned mischievous, and he swallowed audibly. “Well, then. We can start working through those possibilities?”

He was on her before she even finished the question, his mouth hot and hungry, his tongue sliding against hers, his hands on her waist and steering her toward her bedroom. She grinned as he trailed kisses down her throat and then where her t-shirt cut low along her collarbone. She turned them as they made it to the bed and pushed him to sit, breaking his mouth away from where it had been sucking a pretty pink mark. 

She dropped to her knees and ran a firm hand over his cock through his trousers. He was wholly and completely unprepared for the sight of her looking up at him from in between his legs, and he momentarily forgot any and all plans he’d had. She paused to push her hair back out of her face, and he came to his senses. 

“Wait.” She looked up at him, slightly confused. “I wanted to, um—” 

When he didn’t continue, she tilted her head with an encouraging smile. “You wanted to what?”

“I wanted to, um— eat you out,” he said, and he could feel the flush in his ears. “Before. Because I get kind of sleepy after I come, and I— well, I can already tell I’m not gonna last long once you start, um…”

“Blowing you?” she prompted, and now she was just teasing him. 

“Y-yeah.” He ran a nervous hand down his neck. “Is that okay?”

She stood up and stepped closer into his space, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his head back slightly. “Well, that depends. Did you read up on the literature?”

He returned her teasing smile, already more at ease. “You know I did.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back to pull her shirt up over her head. She smirked at the way his eyes went wide and traveled over her form. His mouth dropped open as he tracked her hands, running down over her bare chest, her torso, and then to the waistband of her sweatpants. She pushed the pants down over her hips and let them pool at her feet, stepping out and back in between his legs. “So, what did the experts say?”

He swallowed audibly as she brought his hands to her chest. “Well, um,” he started, palms cupping her breasts. “Um, firstly— start slow. And vary— vary your attention,” he said, squeezing them lightly and brushing his thumbs over her hardened nipples. 

He looked up at her face for guidance, and she smiled. “Then by all means— give me all the attention.”

He leaned forward immediately, tongue and teeth sucking and grazing and nipping at the soft skin of her breasts. He alternated between the two, drew each nipple into his mouth and moaned a little around them at the way she gasped when his teeth dragged on her skin. Her hands found purchase in his curls, tangling and tugging and holding him against her. He brought a hand down to her waist and pulled her in closer, slid his palm over her lace-covered ass and dug his fingers in, eliciting a very pretty sound from her throat. 

He pressed his mouth once more to the valley in between her breasts, then stood and brought his hands to her face, leaning down to meet her in a soft kiss. He turned to have her sit back on the bed, and she stretched out over the pillows and pulled him down over her. He kissed her again, and then dragged his mouth down the column of her throat. 

“Secondly,” he continued, “work your way down.” He did just that, his lips and tongue drawing out goosebumps and shivers as he moved down her body. When he reached the waistband of her underwear, he hooked his fingers into it, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down her legs. 

He started a path back up her legs, kissing her ankles, her shins, her knees. He ghosted his fingers over her thigh, silently asking for permission to continue. She let her legs fall open, and he made himself comfortable in between them. The reality hit him then— that as she opened her legs, she also opened herself up to him— all the most vulnerable and precious parts of her. His breath caught in his throat as he found her gaze on him, soft and sweet and steady. 

He turned his head to kiss a path along her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to her center. He fanned his warm breath over her, and then he licked carefully around the hood of her clit, gentle at first. He flattened his tongue on either side of it, then pointed it to flick across once, twice, three times. Her hand immediately came down to tangle in his hair, and her hips twitched as he dragged his tongue flat over it. 

“I don’t really understand the phenomenon of men being unable to find the clitoris,” he remarked, and then closed his mouth around it. 

She let out a long, low moan when he sucked it between his lips, and her grip on his hair tightened. He alternated the suction with the swirl of his tongue around the hood, and she squirmed against the bed. He laid his forearm low across her hips to keep her still, and then he brought his thumb up to swipe at her entrance, and he moaned around her at the feel. 

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he breathed. He brought his thumb, slick with her arousal, up to her clit and rubbed firm circles over it. “How’s that for pressure? Too hard?”

“N-no, oh— Spence, oh my god,” she whined.

“Do you prefer to rub side to side or in a circle?” He demonstrated each option, and she choked out his name again. 

She drew in a shaky inhale, exhaled out, “Both, both, both.” 

He sucked an open mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, then looked up to see her staring at him. “Do you like penetration? Or just clitoral stimulation?” he asked, stroking his thumb side to side over her clit. 

She huffed out a breath. “You— god, you can finger me.”

He popped his index finger into his mouth, slicking it with spit and thinking of everything he’d read about it. He teased the pad of his finger around her slit, gathering up the wetness that had spilled out of her. “I’ll start with one? Make sure it’s slicked up, and then you can tell me if you’d like me to add another?” 

She hummed in agreement, and he began to press inside of her. She took his finger easily, and he dropped his forehead to her thigh. “God, you’re— you’re so tight.” He withdrew his finger and then slipped it back in, groaning at the slickness. “Can you, um— can you tell me if this is— is this doing anything for you?” He probed gently, searching for the spot inside her that he knew might actually be difficult to find. 

“Um— up, up,” she gasped. “Like, curl it up toward the ceiling and then sort of dra-a-a-g, oh, oh, oh.”

He followed her directions, curling his finger up and dragging it on the out stroke, and she was throwing her head back with a moan of his name. He repeated the motion over and over and then brought his mouth back to her clit. Both her hands came down to yank at his hair, and he groaned, causing her hips to jerk against his mouth. 

“M-more, Spence, more, so close,” she whined. 

When he withdrew his finger, he slipped a second one in beside it and then continued the curl-drag-thrust pattern while sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit. Her moans increased in frequency and volume, and he felt her squeeze impossibly tight around his fingers. He rutted into the bed as her grip on his hair held him still against her clit as she came. 

She let out a final gasp of his name, and then she relaxed around him and her grip on his hair went slack. He slipped his fingers out of her, stared at them in relative awe as they glistened with her come. He sucked them into his mouth to clean them off, relatively surprised by how much he enjoyed the taste. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue over her, cleaning her up and savoring the way she lingered in his mouth. 

“Shit, Spence,” she mumbled, grasping at his shoulder. “C’mere.”

He lifted his head and wiped his forearm across his chin. He watched her eyes go a little wide, and then she was dragging him up her body and crashing their mouths together. “You are so fucking hot,” she whispered. “I cannot believe you’ve never done that before. Such a good listener, baby.”

His hips canted forward desperately at the praise, and she sighed happily against his mouth. “Wanna blow you.” 

She pushed gently at his chest and he sat back to let her up. She slid off the bed and tugged on his hand to move him to sit with his legs off the side. “Can we take some things off?” she asked, gesturing to his fully clothed form. 

He nodded, and she popped the button on his trousers while he started on the button up. They made quick work of both, and she dragged his pants and underwear down in one motion. He shrugged out of his shirt and she took a step back to take him in. 

“You’re so pretty, Spence.” She dragged her finger up from his knee, over his thigh, the trail of hair on his tummy, his chest, his throat— her eyes tracking the motion. He watched her face as she did so, the way her pupils dilated with lust and her tongue came out to wet her lips. She finally settled on his face, smiling and leaning forward to press her lips to his. 

When she broke the kiss, she brought both hands up to cradle his face. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. If anything doesn’t feel good, just say so. You can put your hands on my head, pull my hair, whatever you like. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he rasped. 

She kissed him again, and then dropped to her knees and took him in hand. The vision of her— naked, post-orgasm, looking up at him with his cock poised at her mouth— was so absolutely and gloriously filthy that he almost came on the spot. 

“You’re so big, Spence.” The wonderment seeped into her voice, and he couldn’t help but swell a little with pride. Her warm palm stroked over him, root to tip, and he fisted his hands in the duvet. “What was step one again?” she asked. 

“Um. S-start slow,” he recalled. 

She hummed in agreement, and then trailed the fingers of her free hand over the inside of his thigh. She turned her mouth to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the other, slowly inching up closer to where she held him in her hand. 

“Your skin is soft,” she murmured. Her nose brushing against the crease of this thigh. She switched sides, moved his cock into her other hand to trail her fingers over where her mouth had been. She sucked a mark into his thigh and then dragged her tongue over it, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

And then she shifted back to the center, flattened her tongue, and ran it up the vein on the underside of his cock. “Oh my god,” he whispered. 

She huffed out a laugh and the way her warm breath cooled the trail of spit she’d left had him shivering. “God, this is gonna be so fun,” she murmured. 

She held his cock up straight with one hand and repeated the motion of her tongue twice more, and then pressed a kiss to the tip. She held her tongue out flat and rubbed it along the underside of the head, running it along the divide between the tip and the shaft. And then she closed her mouth around the head and swirled her tongue around it, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets, and then he felt her free hand tug at his fist. He opened his eyes as she guided his fingers into her hair. She locked eyes with him and then sucked gently on the tip of his cock. He fisted his hand and tugged, and she closed her eyes and moaned around him. 

The vibration of her voice had his hips thrusting forward a little into her mouth, and she pulled back with a grin. He couldn’t even form the words to apologize before she was licking down his shaft and murmuring, “Mm, and vary the attention, right?”

With that, she laved her tongue over his balls, slicking them up with her spit. He realized he’d been holding his breath, sucking in a gasp as she sucked one of them into her mouth. She hummed around it and then let it out with a soft pop, moving to draw the other one in. He hadn’t even considered that he would enjoy having his balls in her mouth, but now that they were there he knew he’d literally never stop thinking about it. 

She pulled back to take a breath, bringing a hand up to cup and massage his balls and stroke over his length at the same time. “Step two?” she prompted, looking up at him from in between his legs. 

“Work your way down,” he reminded her, petting over her hair in awe. 

“Ah, yes.” She brought her mouth back to the tip, sticking out her tongue and rubbing it along the sensitive spot just under the head. She kept her mouth open and held him in hand, alternating between wet kisses and swirling her tongue. And then she sucked it into her mouth, still moving her tongue back and forth as she started to sink further down his length. 

In his mind, he was singing her praises from the metaphorical rooftops, but in reality, her mouth was so hot and wet that all he could do was stare stupidly at the way his cock disappeared between her lips. She continued to massage his slick balls in her free hand as she took him in, inch by inch. Each time she pulled back to suckle the head, she stroked the circle of her other hand over the spit-covered length of him. 

On the next pass down, he felt the head of his cock press into the back of her throat, and his hands shot to her hair, holding tight. “Holy shit, Y/N, I—” he choked on the rest of the sentence as she took him an inch further, then simultaneously sucked and pulled back to the tip.

She tapped the tip of his cock to her spit-slick smile, kissing it teasingly. “Do you wanna tell me what to do?”

“M-more of that,” he begged, watching as she dragged her lips down the side of his cock. 

She chuckled, and the way it buzzed against the side of his cock had him short of breath. “Yeah— I thought you’d like that.” She pumped his length with her hand and then held her tongue out flat, bobbing her head until he hit the back of her throat. 

When she pulled back, he watched a trail of spit drip down her chin, and felt his cock twitch at the idea of her quite literally drooling over him. He barely resisted the urge to pinch his thigh, not willing to wake himself up if this was actually a dream. He brought a hand to her chin and used his thumb to gather the spit, and then brought it up to suck it into his mouth. 

Her mouth dropped open as she watched him swallow, and he briefly began to panic, but then she was surging upward to slot her mouth over his in a hot kiss. “How is everything you do so fucking hot?” she murmured against his lips. 

“I could say the same for you,” he countered, kissing her again. 

“I want you to come in my mouth, okay?” she asked. 

He nodded vigorously. “Shit, yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t hold back,” she demanded, and then she was dropping back down to take him in again. 

She left her mouth open, tongue laid flat, and took him into her throat— once, twice, three times. She choked around him and then pulled back to take a breath. She repeated this pattern again, and again, occasionally sucking on the head or even grazing her teeth just so. Spencer held her head between his hands, staring down at her with reverence. He couldn’t stop the litany of praise falling from his lips— mostly just gasps and moans of her name, but occasionally he found the mental capacity for so beautiful, or perfect mouth, or so good, baby. 

He could feel his orgasm drawing closer with every press into her throat, so incredibly tight that it was dizzying. She pulled all the way off to jerk his cock, a tight circle of her fingers gliding along his length with a squelching sound. She squeezed the base of him, dropped her hand to tug at his balls, and sunk her mouth down his length, holding him in her throat and swallowing, moaning low and long around him. 

She looked up at him then, and it was that which finally brought him over the edge— not that she was on her knees with his cock in her throat, but that she didn’t look away as he came undone. The fact that she was paying such close attention to him coupled with the trust and vulnerability required for this moment was too much to handle. His orgasm hit him like a train, his toes curling and fingers twitching in her hair as he came. She continued swallowing around him, and he fought to keep his eyes open, not willing to miss a single second of this moment. 

When he was finished, she slowly drew back, sucking gently along his softening length and pressing a kiss to the head. He did close his eyes then, cradling her head in his hands and rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks. She used his thighs as leverage to pull herself up, and he heard her suck in a sharp breath. His eyes shot open to see her rubbing at her knees— red and a little raw. 

“I’m sorry, I should have— I could have gotten you a pillow.” He pulled her closer and replaced her hands with his own, soothing the marks. 

She laughed and brushed a reassuring hand over his hair. “Occupational hazard.”

The scratchy rasp of her voice had his cock twitching. “I know I don’t have anything to compare it to, but you’re unbelievably good at that.”

She brought her hands to his face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “You’re not the only one who reads the literature.” 

Her even tone and steady gaze proved she wasn’t teasing or mocking, and he fell just a little bit deeper in love. He met her halfway in a kiss that was infinitely and luminously sweet and wondered just what in the world he was going to do about that.

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01  @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @daybabyx @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween  @s1utformgg  @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @dr-omalley @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid

Series tags: @cielo1984 @dorotheuh @foreveryoungxx3 @happyreid187 @harrystylesholland @seasonfivereid @slut4spencie  @kyomito​

Broken tags: @radtwinkie

[thespoonisvictory]

excerpt from my “niki and wilbur secret city healing fic” that I will never actually finish:

“You’re not eating.”

It’s Niki, standing in the doorway, a plate of food tucked to her side, eyes narrowed and posture stiff.

“Yes, I am.”

It’s Wilbur, facing the wall, slouched on a bed, in that grimy coat he refused to be without.

“No, you’re not.”

It’s them, somewhere between open hostility and practiced ambivalence, a sad parody of a bond once inseparable. It’s them, unable to carry a full conversation. It’s them, alone, in Niki’s city, where Niki begs him to heal and Wilbur begs to leave.

Niki sighed, pushing forward into the room. “You need to eat, surely you’re not dense enough to forget that.”

“I have been.” Wilbur snaps, but it lacks any sort of fire. Increasingly prominent cheekbones, clothes that hung looser with every passing day, and the dullness of his eyes and hair betrayed him, and they were both aware. The wounds that littered his body refused to recover, and every action was done so with a tired resignation.

“Don’t lie to me.” Niki takes another step forward. “You were never any good at it.”

It was true. The honeyed words that hid him from others never managed quite as well for her. It was too easy to see her friend underneath the persona, the earnestness and raw, organic smile he flashed to her when others weren’t looking.

 It had made her feel special, then, to be privy to the most undone version of him. To feel known and to know, without reservation. To be the subject of sleep-deprived rambles on the floor of her bakery, a pastry and warm drink between them. To hear his new obsessions, to have facts pulled out of her like strings plucked on a guitar. To be something lovely and untouched, together, a friendship unmuddied by the ever-present politics weighing on their shoulders.

Now, it makes her feel lied to.

She watches his shoulders shrug in acknowledgement, and he slowly turns to face her. The movement seems almost painful, a slow and awkward rearranging of limbs, and he refuses to meet her eyes.

“Why do you care, then?” Wilbur rasped, quiet.

“I don’t.” Niki lied. “But Phil wouldn’t take kindly to me letting his son die of starvation.”

His face tightened, almost imperceptibly. The battle won.

“Leave it here, Niki. I’ll eat later.” And a hand outstretched, bones prominent, pale.

On another day, in another world, she would have believed him.

She had believed him, once. Left meals and plates on his desk when he wasn’t looking, waited for them to disappear. It had made her feel needed, wanted. To know that she was the one helping him, indulging his long shifts and hours spent at that old, wooden desk. To be thanked, silently, with wildflowers left in her bakery, with little gifts to amuse her, with contact, trusting, hands held and hair fixed, buttons done up with care.

Now, it felt like a test. A reference point, to check that they were still bound together. Now, she didn’t believe him.

“Eat it now.” Niki’s voice held steady, thankfully.

She wanted the exchange over with, painless.

But Wilbur froze, hand retreating quickly. He swallowed, throat bobbing.

“No.”

“What?” Niki questioned, bitter. “Just take the food, Wil.” The nickname fell flat on her tongue.

“No.” He repeated, more fervently than before.

“Why?” Another step forward.

“I said no, Niki. I’ll eat it later.”

“And I said, tell me why.” Another, and another, until they were close enough that she heard his sharp intake of breath.

She leaned down to meet his gaze, and was met with not the fire she was expecting, but an unfiltered desperation. A fear.

“Don’t make me say it. Just leave the food, please.” Wilbur’s voice shook, laced with a vulnerability she had heard so few times.

He had recounted the button room to her, one night. He had walked into her bakery earlier to be met with Eret, his fingers covered in flour. His face had dropped and he had walked out immediately, stony, leaving Niki to wonder what happened. There they had sat, wine-drunk, under the stars, under darkness that allowed his features to relax and his words to be honest.

It was decidedly one of her favorite versions of her friend, sentences soft and mumbled like poetry as he recounted why he paled at the sight of her new friend, eyes shining with unshed tears. She wondered if he remembered that.

“Tell me.” 

She just wanted to leave.

Wilbur’s voice softened. “It’s poisoned, isn’t it?”

“What?” Of the reasons she was suspecting, this was not one.

“I- I don’t know for sure, but I can’t trust it.” His voice wavered, trying to maintain composure. “What if you poisoned it? What if you slipped it in, decided to get rid of me?”

“Wil, I-”

“I can’t go back there, Niki.” His hands grabbed the fabric making up his quilt, brow furrowed. “I won’t go back there. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Shocked, Niki tentatively moved past him, sat down on the mattress, set down the plate. The silence lay steadily as she grasped for words.

“It’s not poisoned. I could never- would never do that to you.”

“I would, if I were you.” A confession, quiet. “I’d want me dead too.”

A deep sadness settled into Niki’s gut, replacing the anger she had always carried. “I don’t want you dead, Wil. I want you to heal.” She paused. “I want my friend back.”

“I’m right here.” A plea, even quieter. For what, she didn’t know.

“Just- eat, please. You might feel better.”

A phrase repeated so many times before. She had offered him food countless times in Pogtopia, pressed fruits and dried meat into his hands, concerned for his tired eyes and jerky movements. He had accepted, if rarely. It had made her feel accomplished. To know that she had done what his brothers could not. To know she had made a difference, perhaps, to know that the last remnants of before were not yet gone. To be partners in crime again, if fleeting.

“I can’t.” 

Niki sighed.

She picked up a slice of bread off the plate, thick, filled with herbs and nuts. Watching his eyes follow her, she raised it to her mouth, taking a bite. She swallowed.

His eyes widened slightly as she offered it out to him, fingers betraying him in the subtle way they reached out, wanting.

Without warning, he grabbed it, holding it tentatively. After a pause, he took a bite as well. And another. Another. Within minutes, the slice was gone. 

Suddenly, Niki was stifling a laugh, a smile dancing on her face. Wilbur turned to her, innocently confused, his eyes wide.

“What?” He questioned, and oh his tone was light.

She couldn’t contain it anymore, and burst out laughing, giggling, doubled over. The ridiculousness of it all got to her, and the tension broke as he started smiling despite himself.

“It was good bread!” He protested.

Niki went to stand up. “I have more, if you want.”

But Wilbur waved his hand, shook his head. “No, I’m like, very full right now.”

She nodded, another chuckle escaping her. Without thinking about it, she leaned into his shoulder, pressing them together like she always had.

For a moment, it all felt so normal again. Like they had slid right back into familiar camaraderie, teasing, shedding the weight that had plagued them. It could have been minutes or hours theu sat there, both of them soaking in the contact.

“Later tonight, then.”

“Yeah.” His voice was still small, but soft, stable, almost drowsy.

Wilbur confirmed her suspicions as he spoke. “I’m really sleepy, for some reason.” His posture was more relaxed than she had seen it in years.

“Go to bed, then.” Niki suggested.

He nodded, but his eyes were dark.

“Can you?” She prompted.

“Not usually.” Mumbling, as always. “I just lay there, mostly, thinking about my evil plots, scheming. You know the deal.” 

“Try. You might be lucky this time.”

He huffed. “Ok.”

Niki stood, ready to leave, but paused. “Let me take your coat, Wil.”

Wilbur stilled, and she was so sure he would say no, reject the offer. But after a moment, he began shrugging it off, shedding the mottled fabric.

He offered it out to her, and as she took it she could feel the familiar weight, draping it over her arm. 

He looked so much smaller this way. Sat on the guest bed, hair rumpled, dressed simply in a white button down, he looked younger, too, less official.

“I’ll be back in a few hours, I have some errands to run. Business to attend to. I’ll bring some more of that bread, too.”

Wilbur nodded, eyes blinking slowly as he yawned.

She turned around, pausing in the doorway to see her friend one last time. She shut the door gently.

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 02

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7k [2/6]

notes: looks like it’s a writing/editing kinda day, folks! hope you enjoy this installment, and let me know what you think! 

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, jeon jungkook is a goddamn tease, smuuuut, oral (f receiving), jk’s got a big dick whoOPS, minimally edited bc i’m feeling lazy

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

Morning brings with it bright sunshine and fresh horror as the events of the previous evening come rushing back. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to look Jeon Jungkook in the eye again—or at least, not without being reminded of the way he’d plagued every single one of your dreams with devilish eyes and even more devilish fingers. Groaning, you scrub at your temples, as if that will help dispel the memories. After a few fruitless moments, you crawl out of bed and head for the bathroom, intent on washing everything away with a good, cold shower.

Try as you might, though, you simply cannot avoid your dark-haired neighbor. You’re in the kitchen sipping at your second coffee of the day and debating what you want for lunch when there’s a knock on the front door—a familiar rhythm that has your heart stuttering. “It’s open!” Jimin yells from the living room, and a moment later, the devil himself strolls in, wearing a plain black t-shirt with ripped jeans and well-worn Timberlands. Vaguely, you wonder when he made the switch from white tees to black, but your musings are cut short when he spots you in the kitchen, an impish grin settling across his face.

“Hey, Noona.”

“Hey.” You thank whatever god may be out there that your voice is steady. “Jimin’s in the living room.”

Jungkook tilts his head coyly and takes a step forward. “What makes you think I’m here for Jimin? Maybe I came to see you.”

Anxiously, you swallow down the memories of his warm hands that are trying to resurface. “I highly doubt that.”

“Really?” Jungkook takes another step forward and plucks the coffee mug from your hands. “What if I came over to finish what I started last night?”

Heat floods across your face. “That—that was… I mean, I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” Jungkook asks, raising a brow. “Want me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a lie, Noona.” Quietly, he closes the last bit of distance between you, and when he speaks again you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “You see, I think you want me. Just as much as I want you. Am I wrong?”

“Jungkook, we—”

“Dude, what’s taking you so long?” Jimin’s head suddenly pops around the doorway, and you nearly jump out of your skin in your effort to put some distance between you and your dark-haired neighbor. “I’m about to start the game without you.”

“Just wanted to grab some coffee and say hi to {Name},” Jungkook replies, raising your half-empty mug to his lips and taking a sip. “Did you want to join us, Noona? It’d be fun to watch you kick Jimin’s ass at Mario Kart again.”

You swallow, hard. “I can’t. I’ve got homework to do.” Not strictly true, perhaps, but you’d been planning on looking over the details of your internship again at some point, and now seems as good a time as any. “Sorry,” you add quickly, seeing Jungkook’s disbelieving expression.

“Summer homework? Gross.” Jimin pulls a face. “You’re still coming to Tae’s party though, right?”

You nod, unwillingly catching Jungkook’s eye again. He’s still sipping at your coffee, and you don’t miss the flagrant wink he shoots you over the rim of the cup. “See you later then, Noona,” he says, his voice practically a purr.

“Right,” you respond dully, your heart skipping a beat at the dark promise in his stare. “Later.”

Jimin and Jungkook disappear down the hall, but you remain rooted in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, listening as the music of whatever video game they’ve decided on starts playing from the living room. Heaving a sigh, you fetch a new mug from the cupboard and pour yourself some more coffee, grabbing an apple and a bag of chips as well. Taking everything up to your bedroom, you pull out your laptop and make yourself comfortable on your bed, plugging in some headphones to drown out the noise from downstairs. With any luck, you won’t have to see Jungkook again until you have to leave for Taehyung’s party, and you’re pretty sure that it’ll be easy to avoid him once you’re there.

In fact, you’re certain of it.

So with that thought in mind, you settle down with your coffee and open up Netflix, sinking into the pillows and pushing your dark-haired neighbor into the deepest recesses of your mind. It isn’t until your phone starts vibrating insistently against your thigh that you are startled out of your binge-watching, the screen lit up with two new notifications. Surprised, you realize that hours have passed, the sky outside your window deepening into the hazy blue of nighttime.

[6:02pm] Jungkook: you hungry, noona?

[6:02pm] Jungkook: for pizza, i mean. we ordered dinner

[6:03pm] Jungkook: but i’ll be your dessert if you want me ;)

You drop your phone as if burned, his final message playing over and over in your mind. It takes you a full minute to gather your wits again, stowing your device in your pocket without responding and carefully picking your way downstairs. Already, you can smell the cheesy grease, your stomach growling in anticipation.

Just grab the pizza and go, you think to yourself, formulating your escape plan and double-checking it for any holes. Dine and dash.

You’re walking past the foyer when there’s suddenly a knock on the front door. Curiously, you answer it, swinging it open to see a familiar grinning face standing on the doorstep. Lee Taemin is a good friend of Jimin’s, and your brother pokes his head out from the kitchen at the sound of your greeting, clearly expecting the new guest.

“Taemin! Get in here and have some pizza,” Jimin says, his mouth full. “You too, Noona. We got plenty.”

Instead of immediately heading for the food, Taemin wraps you in a hug that has you wheezing for air. “Long time no see, huh? How’ve you been?”

You squirm in his tight embrace, raised to your tiptoes. “Put me down, you heathen. I’m fine right now, but I won’t be if you suffocate me.”

Taemin chortles good-naturedly and releases his grip, ruffling your hair. “Good to see you too, {Name}. Honestly, it hasn’t been the same around here without you. How long are you back for? The whole summer?”

You shake your head. “Just a couple weeks. I’ve got to get back for an internship.”

“Already a hotshot, huh?” Taemin grins. “What are you going to be doing?”

The topic of your summer job is a welcome distraction from the way Jungkook’s dark gaze trails after you as you tread into the kitchen alongside Taemin, slapping two slices of pizza onto a plate and glancing around for a napkin. You can feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull, prickling your skin with electricity, but continue your conversation with Taemin as if nothing is amiss.

“You gonna sit down or what?” Taemin gives you a quizzical glance as he pulls a chair out from the table, joining Jimin and Jungkook who are already seated. You do your best to ignore the way Jungkook’s jaw flexes with every chew, somehow managing to look infuriatingly handsome despite the mouth full of dough and pizza grease staining his chin.

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for the excuse you had planned. “—I still have some work to do. Reading and whatnot.”

“Nerd,” Jimin snorts.

Taemin shrugs. “Okay, then. Suit yourself, I guess.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. But you feel his eyes burning into your skin as you head back upstairs, and it isn’t until you are safely back in your bedroom, sagging against the closed door, that you can finally breathe properly again.

///

You end up departing for the party nearly twenty minutes after the official start time of eight o’clock, caving to Jimin’s insistence on being fashionably late. Personally, you think he just wanted the extra time to work on his hair—making sure every strand is perfectly, effortlessly tousled—and call him out on it as he locks the front door behind you.

“I didn’t spend that long on my hair,” Jimin sniffs defensively. “Besides, you’re the one who needed to run back in and get your wallet. What do you even need your wallet for? We’re walking like, four blocks.”

“Better safe than sorry,” you retort. “What if I get murdered and they need to identify my body? What if I get mugged? You never know!”

Taemin falls into step beside you. “What if we need to tip a stripper?” he chimes in.

You nod and raise your hand for a high-five without taking your eyes off your brother. “Exactly! You have to tip your sex workers, Chim!”

Jimin waggles a suggestive eyebrow. “I think I’d rather give them a different ti—”

You push him off the sidewalk before he can finish speaking, pulling a face as he stumbles into the street in a fit of laughter. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, you perv!”

The remainder of the short walk to Taehyung’s house passes uneventfully. Jimin doesn’t bother knocking, throwing open the door like he owns the place, and you trail after him with Taemin and Jungkook on your heels. Immediately, you’re assailed by a cacophonous sea of conversation and thumping music, people milling around in the dimly lit interior.

“There you are!” The voice comes from your left, and you barely have time to register the speaker’s face before she’s gasping and engulfing you in a hug. “{Name}, you made it! Hi!”

You laugh, squeezing her back. “Hi, Chaeyoung. It’s good to see you. Sorry I didn’t catch you at graduation.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving you off. “We have all the time in the world to catch up now. Let’s get you away from these boys and find you a drink, shall we?” Flipping a lock of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, she loops her arm through yours and begins steering you toward the kitchen. “So what are you in the mood for? The beer’s shit, so I’d stay away from anything in the cooler, but everything else is actually drinkable.”

“Shocking,” you remark, peering at the mess of bottles and cups lining the kitchen counter. There’s a massive bowl of a horrifyingly neon green concoction as well, and you take one whiff before backing away again, nose wrinkling in disgust. “I see Tae’s still making punch.”

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Chaeyoung advises. “He’s somehow managed to make it twice as sugary and three times more alcoholic than last year’s. Pretty sure it’s worse than moonshine at this point.”

You grin and locate an empty cup, raising it in her direction. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Chaeyoung refills her own drink, and you settle on a simple blend of cranberry juice and vodka. Together, you head back in the direction of the living room, where Jisoo and Lisa are chattering away on a couch in the corner. They look up at your arrival, greeting you with smiles and hugs, and quickly usher you into a seat beside them.

“So,” Jisoo begins, leaning forward. “How’s college?”

“Tell us everything,” Lisa adds, propping her chin in her palm. “Is it nice living away from home?”

Jisoo waggles her brows. “Forget that. Have you met any guys?”

Unbidden, Jungkook springs to the forefront of your mind, dark eyes staring at you from beneath equally dark hair as he leans down, down, down—

“Nope!” you blurt before your thoughts can progress any further. “I mean, I share a suite with a couple guys, but that doesn’t count.”

“Are they cute?” Lisa prods.

“They must be more mature than these high school boys,” Chaeyoung sighs.

“Hardly,” you snort. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

The gossip continues. More people arrive as the night wears on, the living room filling up with dancing bodies. A few girls you don’t know join in your conversation, perching on armrests and ottomans and the carpeted floor as a last resort. Across the hall in the dining room, you spot Taemin setting up a table for beer pong, a triumphant shout going up when Taehyung procures an unopened package of balls from somewhere in the hall closet.

“This is gonna be tournament style, got it?” he announces as he tears the package open. “Winner goes up against the undefeated champs—Jungkook and Yugyeom!”

Even from your comfy seat on the couch, you can see the arrogant twist of Jungkook’s mouth as he leans over to give Yugyeom a high-five. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way he tongues his cheek, lounging back into a chair to watch the first round of the game. Jimin steps forward alongside Taehyung, and you watch as your brother scrutinizes the pyramid of cups, poised to make a throw that lifts his shirt just enough to expose a flash of his admittedly toned abdomen.

“He wore that shirt on purpose,” Jisoo accuses, and you huff out a sound that’s more snort than laugh.

“Please, it’s just the only shirt he owns that isn’t dirty. Trust me.”

“I don’t even care,” another girl you don’t know the name of pipes up. “I’d still let him blow my back out.”

You grimace. “And on that note, I suddenly need another drink,” you announce, to giggles. Wrenching out of your cozy seat between Jisoo and Lisa, you wave your near empty cup in farewell and make your way toward the kitchen, carefully skirting around the dancers and beer pong spectators spilling out into the hallway.

The kitchen is deserted when you walk in, everyone having flocked to the dining room to watch the beer pong tournament. Humming along to the music, you open up the fridge and survey its contents, hoping to find something decent. Curiously, you pick your way past a few cans before turning a dark glass bottle around to read the label.

“Are you avoiding me, Noona?”

The voice comes from behind you, deep and sinfully resonant, and you don’t even have to turn around to know that he’s standing just inches away. His breath ruffles through the hair at the nape of your neck, sending gooseflesh prickling across your skin, and when strong hands curl gently around your hips you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I missed you, y’know,” he continues, his mouth finding its way to your ear and nipping lightly at the lobe. “You didn’t talk to me all day, even though I was right there in your house. Ran like a scared little rabbit when you saw me in the kitchen, didn’t you?” Softly, his lips ghost along the column of your throat, pressing a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. “So, now what? Are you gonna run from me again?”

You don’t think you could if you tried. Your feet are rooted firmly in place, your entire body frozen as you await whatever he’ll do next. And when he urges you to spin around and face him, you obey immediately, your hands coming up to splay against his chest as he presses even closer and rewards your compliance with a kiss.

“Jungkook,” you breathe against his parted lips. “Jungkook, god.”

Slowly, he trails down your neck, leaving soft nips in his wake. “Yes, Noona?”

“We can’t,” you whisper, even as your head falls back to allow him more access to your clavicle. “Jungkook, we can’t do this.”

Your companion raises his head then, his dark gaze meeting yours. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly. His thumbs dip beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles into the soft skin of your waist, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. “If that’s what you want, Noona, just tell me to stop and I will. I promise.”

He’s palming along your hips now. The warmth of his palms seeps into your body, rendering it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His mouth returns to your neck as he awaits your answer, and you don’t miss the way his lips curl into a smirk against the delicate skin of your collarbone when you hesitate a moment too long.

“Well, Noona?”

Fuck it. Your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe, throwing all remaining remnants of caution to the wind.

Jungkook straightens up to his full height, his smirk widening. “Anything for you, princess,” he remarks before leaning down, winding one hand in your hair and finding purchase in the curve of your waist with the other. The newfound pet name ignites a tendril of heat in the pit of your belly, and when Jungkook finally closes the gap between your lips, you release a breathy moan that he eagerly swallows. The hand in your hair tightens its grip to pull you even closer, tongues and teeth clashing as he deepens the kiss.

It’s only when the need for air becomes critical that you break away from him with a gasp, your lungs aching. Jungkook isn’t faring much better, his chest heaving beneath the thin white material of his t-shirt. He releases his grip on your hair, his thumb grazing across your cheek gently instead, and when he leans in to plant another kiss on your mouth, you exhale shakily. “God, Jungkook.”

His arm tightens around your waist. “What do you need, princess?” he asks, and you can’t deny your delight at his continued use of the nickname. His teeth find the lobe of your ear again, and you release a breathy moan as he delivers a particularly sharp nip to the soft flesh before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot just below it. “Tell me. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You slide your hands along his broad shoulders and up to his nape, brushing the silver hoops in his ears before tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “You’re teasing me.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and pulls away, your arms falling uselessly to your sides as he takes a step back. “I just need to hear you say it, Noona,” he chides, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. “I need to hear you say that you want this. That you want me.”

A shiver dances up your spine, and you aren’t sure whether it’s due to his wicked lilt or the sudden absence of his body heat. “I want you,” you whisper, reaching out to touch him. “Jungkook, please.”

The smirk that spreads across his face is absolutely devastating. “Then come with me,” he commands softly, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. You leave behind the thumping music and the loud chatter of the party, allowing Jungkook to pull you into one of several rooms lining the hallway and squeaking when he shuts the door and immediately pins you against it. His mouth slants across yours, hot and urgent, and you moan into the kiss as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Jungkook breathes, pulling away just enough to whisper the words against your lips. “Fuck, princess, look at this tiny little skirt you’re wearing. You’ve been killing me all night, you know that?”

He punctuates the words with another kiss, nipping harshly at your bottom lip. His hands slide down to the curve of your ass, and you gasp when he scoops you up effortlessly. “Legs around my waist,” he orders, readjusting his grip as he begins walking you further into the room.

It’s the laundry room, you realize upon closer inspection. Jungkook’s busy mouthing at your neck, but he breaks away with a smirk when he finally reaches his destination, plopping you down atop the cool metal of the washing machine. “Shame there’s nothing in here,” he remarks, kicking the side softly. “I really wanna fuck you with this thing running one day. But for now…” His smirk widens, his hands settling on your knees. “This’ll do.”

In an instant, he’s pushed up your skirt and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He drops to his knees, smoothing his hands along your inner thighs, and your cheeks flush when he urges you to spread them further. “Jungkook—“ you mumble, thoroughly embarrassed as he stares reverently at your exposed core, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Quit staring at me like that.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a soft trail of kisses along your thigh. “You’re so beautiful, Noona.”

“You…”

You trail off, unsure of what to say. What do you say when your little brother’s best friend is staring at you like you’re a desert oasis and he’s been wandering, dehydrated, for days? What do you say when the scrawny neighbor kid you’d grown up with is caressing every inch of your legs, soothing the soft skin with his fingers and lips?

What do you say when you realize, once and for all, that Jeon Jungkook is undoubtedly—unabashedly—a man now?

You swallow, hard. Jungkook is nearing your core now, his hair tickling your thighs, and you gasp when he slides a finger up your slit experimentally. “You’re so wet,” he breathes. “So wet, and so—” He touches the pad of his finger to his tongue, grinning up at you as he laps up your essence. “—delicious. Fuck. You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

And then he leans forward, boldly licking a stripe up the length of your entrance. Strong arms wind around your legs to hold you open, and when he shoves his face even deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, you let out a strangled whimper. “Fuck, Jungkook—”

The sound of his name draws a pleased hum from the young man nestled between your thighs, rumbling through his chest and straight to your core. Your walls clench, but Jungkook stubbornly refuses to dip his tongue inside. Instead, he teases at your folds, spreading them apart with two fingers and licking ardently at your leaking juices before kissing a short trail up to your clit. “Can you cum like this?” he asks curiously, thumbing across the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His answer comes in the form of a breathy gasp, your hips jerking upward to seek out more friction. Jungkook chuckles and obliges your silent request, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours as he begins rubbing slow circles around your bud. “Guess that’s a yes,” he murmurs, pressing yet another kiss to your thigh. His gaze remains locked on yours as he rubs a little harder, dragging your juices up from your slit and digging in deep until you are moaning aloud, your hands coming down to fist in his silky hair.

“I-I’m close,” you keen. “Please, Jungkook, please.”

Jungkook hums and leans back. At the same time, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them upward, and the sudden surge of fullness is more than enough to tip you over the edge. His name escapes your lips in a garbled moan, your walls spasming around his hand as he continues teasing your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you finally whine from oversensitivity and bat him away. Obediently, he withdraws, rising to his feet so that he towers over you once more.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs, staring down at you with an expression caught somewhere between awestruck wonder and unbridled hunger. “You’re so pretty when you cum. So pretty and perfect and—” He swallows, his throat bobbing harshly. “God, I need to fuck you. Can I fuck you now, Noona? Will you let me stretch open this pretty little pussy and fill you up with my cock?”

Your breath hitches. Never in a million years could you have imagined that your brother’s mild-mannered best friend could have such a filthy mouth, but you cannot hide the way your core clenches at his words. Slowly, you raise your arms, winding them around his neck to pull him closer. “Yes,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his. “Fuck me, Jungkook.”

A groan escapes him, deep and cavernous in a way that sends heat spiking through your veins. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, his mouth chasing after yours as one hand finds the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. The other slides down to the waistband of his jeans, freeing himself from the confines of the denim. He doesn’t break the kiss for a moment, even as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. It isn’t until you’re seated on the very edge of the washing machine, wrapping your legs around his waist to steady yourself, that you pull away and let your gaze fall to his newly revealed cock. Jungkook is long and deliciously thick, and you let out a shaky breath when you see the pearlescent white drops beading at the swollen tip.

“Oh my god.” The words bubble up automatically, escaping you in an airy whisper. “How are you so big?”

Jungkook huffs out a hoarse chuckle, amusement glittering in his dark irises. “Think you can take all of me, princess?”

Your gaze falls down to his length again, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Put on a condom, and let’s find out.”

Jungkook grins and produces a little foil wrapper from somewhere in his back pocket, tearing into it with his teeth. You help him roll the condom over his cock, and as soon as it’s in place, he’s lining himself up and pushing inside you. A deep groan escapes him as he parts your walls inch by torturous inch, and you moan as your pussy is stretched to its limit, molding to his shape and sheer size. By the time he bottoms out, he’s almost prodding at your cervix, and you grab breathlessly at his bicep.

“I—I need a minute,” you gasp, your body spasming around him as you fight to adjust to the surge of fullness.

“Me too,” Jungkook rasps, his voice strained. His eyes flutter shut as he inhales deeply through his nose, cursing again when you clench around him unconsciously. “Fuck. You’re so tight.”

For a few moments, there’s only the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder. His breath is hot against the exposed skin of your clavicle, and you sigh when you feel him mouthing at the delicate skin, nipping softly before soothing across it with his tongue.

At the sound, Jungkook raises his head, dark eyes meeting yours before dropping down to where the two of you are joined. “God, you look so good like this,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “So pretty, stuffed full of my cock.”

You clench around him again—this time more purposefully. Jungkook’s mouth falls open, a silent question on the tip of his tongue, and you answer it with a deliberate roll of your hips, wordlessly encouraging him to move. Gingerly, he obeys, retreating until only the head of his erection remains inside you. His hand drops down to your clit, and you keen out his name when he surges forward at the same time he flicks his thumb across the sensitive nub. Pleasure licks at your spine, replacing the discomfort. Jungkook lets out a pleased hum.

Slowly, he works up a rhythm, keeping his thrusts shallow as he begins rubbing circles around your clit again. With his other hand, he slides the straps of your top down your shoulders, tugging the bodice down just enough to free your breasts. Your nipples harden at the exposure, and a moan escapes you when he immediately takes one between his fingers, rolling and pinching at the peak. The additional stimulation, paired with the heavy drag of his cock along your walls and his insistent thumb on your clit, has you teetering dangerously close to the edge, your tummy tensing.

“Jungkook—” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. He grunts in response and picks up the pace, rolling even more fervently up into your clenching heat, and you gasp when a particularly hard thrust sends you scooting backward atop the washing machine. “Fuck! I’m close, Jungkook.”

“Me too,” he grits out. “Come on, princess, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go for me one more time—”

And with one final flick of his wrist and a thrust that’s so deep you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, you come completely undone, spasming wildly around his cock. It all proves too much for Jungkook, who’s groaning right alongside you as he reaches his high, spilling into the condom. He chants your name like a prayer as his hips gradually still, and his lips seek out yours almost instinctively as his cock softens inside you. The kiss is lazy and languid, contentment settling in your veins. Jungkook wraps you up in a warm embrace, his tongue dipping inside your mouth to explore.

It isn’t until a loud cheer rises up from the front of the house that you snap out of your blissful haze. “We should get back to the party,” you mumble into the kiss, pushing against Jungkook’s chest when he only pulls you closer. “Jungkook, come on. People are gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

“You know what else will make people suspicious? You, coming out like that.” He gestures at the skirt hiked up around your waist, a slow smirk playing at his lips as he gives you a once-over, his gaze lingering on the wet sheen streaking your inner thighs. “As much as I’m enjoying the view.”

You swat his arm. “Stop that!”

Jungkook snickers and bends down to pick up your discarded panties, swinging them around his index finger. “Stop what?”

“Oh my god, Jungkook.”

Cackling, he returns the lacy undergarment to you, watching as you pull the material up your legs. You adjust your shirt while he disposes of his condom, and when you hop off the washing machine, he offers you a hand that you gratefully accept, gripping his arm as you steady yourself on shaky legs.

“You should leave first,” you tell him, smoothing out the wrinkles in his t-shirt and relishing the way his muscles twitch beneath your fingertips. “It’ll look weird if we leave together, and I need to pee, anyway.”

Jungkook grins and catches your wrists, swooping down to plant a quick kiss on your mouth. “As you wish,” he says, offering you a playful wink.

Then he’s straightening back up to his full height, checking his pockets and running a hand through his mussed hair. You watch as he walks over to the door, putting his ear against it for a few seconds before determining that the coast is clear and slipping out into the hallway. As the door clicks shut behind him, you hear someone—you’re pretty sure it’s a drunk Yugyeom—greet him with a resounding clap on the back. “Dude, where have you been all night? We’re getting our asses handed to us. Minho and Taemin are winning.”

“Sorry, man,” Jungkook half-shouts, and you realize that he’s making sure you can hear him. “Come on. Let’s go get that crown.”

Leaning against the door, you listen as their voices recede down the hallway. You count to five, and then to ten when your thumping heart refuses to slow. At nineteen, it finally calms down—enough that you feel comfortable leaving the laundry room and slipping into the bathroom to clean yourself up.

There’s a massive crowd gathered in the dining room by the time you rejoin the party, and you easily slip unnoticed into the mass of people eagerly watching the final round of the beer pong tournament. Jungkook stands at the far end of the table beside Yugyeom, poised to throw.

He catches your eye at the same time he releases the ball with a flick of his wrist, a knowing smirk settling on his face as triumphant cheers break out all around you.

///

It’s well after midnight by the time the party begins to wind down. Chaeyoung and Lisa are nowhere to be found, and several other girls are lingering near the front door saying their goodbyes before heading out. You find yourself seated on the couch between Jimin and Minho, watching as the latter helps clean up by hurling beer cans at the wastebasket on the other end of the room.

“Man, no wonder you suck at pong.” Jungkook walks into the room and plops down on an end table, a faded cardboard Burger King crown sitting rakishly on his head. “Want me to show you how the champs do it?”

Minho snorts. “Fuck off, man, you barely won that second game. Besides, we totally would’ve won if Taemin hadn’t spent half the time staring at Lisa’s tits.”

Taemin, who’s perched on a corner of the coffee table, raises his hands innocently. “Hey, don’t look at me. I scored most of the points that round.”

Minho huffs irritably and tosses another can at the wastebasket, cursing when it bounces off the rim. Taehyung wanders in and picks it up, throwing it back at Minho before squeezing into the miniscule amount of space between you and Jimin on the couch.

“Jesus, Tae,” you grunt, shifting to give him more room. The movement tilts you toward Minho, smushing you against his side, and he shoots you a playful grin and a wink.

“Cozy?”

“Cozy,” you confirm with a laugh.

“Good,” he says, freeing his arm and throwing it across the back of the couch to give you a little more space. “It’s nice having you around again, Noona.”

Jungkook’s head whirls around so quickly you fear he might have given himself whiplash. His stare zeroes in on Minho’s arm, eyes narrowing at the proximity, but the other boy remains blissfully unaware as he leans back against the couch cushions. Subtly, you lean forward, trying to put some distance between your bodies.

“It’s nice to be back,” you tell him. “It feels like I missed so much, but at the same time, it’s like nothing’s changed.”

“Choi’s aim sure hasn’t changed,” Yugyeom remarks from the doorway with a handful of empty beer bottles. “Still can’t land a shot, even after all these years.” Raising a bottle, he hefts it toward the wastebasket, smirking in satisfaction when it sinks perfectly inside the can.

“And not just with pong,” Taemin goads. “How did things go with Sana again?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Like you’re one to talk. Besides, we’d all probably stand a better chance if Jeon over there would leave some girls for the rest of us.”

“You’re just jealous because Sana likes him better than she likes you,” Taehyung says with a snicker. “Yo, Jeon! Didn’t you guys make it to third base at Jackson’s party?”

Your stomach sinks as all eyes in the room turn to Jungkook, whose eyes go wide at the sudden attention. “What?”

“Sa. Na,” Taehyung repeats, emphasizing each syllable. “Hottest girl in our year? Third base at Jackson’s? Or are you having a hard time remembering since you wound up leaving with Jihyo?”

Yugyeom chortles as he plops down onto the carpeted floor. “Fuck, man, I forgot about that. Jesus. Just last year you were still shitting yourself at the thought of talking to a girl. Who knew you secretly had so much game?”

The room is beginning to feel stifling. Every breath you take feels like you’re inhaling ash, like a volcano that has lain dormant for ages has suddenly and without warning erupted inside your chest.

He’s playing you. And even worse, it seems that this is a game he’s played before—many times, if his friends are to be believed. Your stomach turns at the thought.

From his perch on the end table, Jungkook scoffs out a stilted, staccato note. “Right. I guess any nonzero number would seem high to you guys, huh?”

Loud jeers break out from the surrounding boys, and you do your best to melt back into the couch cushions. The way you’re squished between Taehyung and Minho makes it impossible for you to find any leverage to stand, so you settle for leaning your head back and staring at the stucco ceiling, willing your heartbeat to slow. Gradually, the noise of the party fades into the background, as do the voices of your brother and his friends. It’s only when Jimin pokes your shoulder, singsonging your name, that you break out of your trance.

“What? Huh?”

“The lake house,” Jimin says, looking at you as if you’re stupid. “You down?”

You can only blink at him, repeating the words back to him dumbly. “The lake house?”

Jimin raises a brow. “Yeah, the lake house. You know, our lake house? The one we drive up to every summer? Where we’ve been vacationing since we were like, five?”

You scowl when he pinches your cheek like you’re a child again. “Yeah, I got that. What about it?”

A snort. “Jeez, have you been listening at all, Noona? We’re talking about going up there for a few days.”

“Oh,” you croak. Unwillingly, you find yourself glancing over at Jungkook, your face growing warm when you see him staring right back, his expression careful and composed. “Right.”

“You should come, Noona,” Taemin pipes up. “You’re here for the next few weeks, right? Might as well have some fun.”

“I don’t know—” you begin, but Jimin cuts you off with a raised finger and another pinch to your cheek.

“You can’t just do homework the whole time you’re here,” he says. “Come with us, Noona. Live a little.”

“It’ll help get your mind off your internship, too,” Jungkook remarks softly. “You deserve a break. Just a few days won’t hurt.”

The fact that he remembers your internship woes shouldn’t make your heart lurch. You know it shouldn’t, but you can’t help the way your chest swells dangerously. “Fine,” you concede, reaching over Taehyung to pinch Jimin’s cheek in retaliation. “I’ll come, I guess.”

Taehyung and Taemin cheer, and Minho wraps his arm around your shoulder and squeezes you tight. “We should invite the other girls,” he points out, chuckling when you splutter for air in his ironclad grasp and try in vain to shake him off. “Don’t want it to be a total sausage fest.”

“Penis party is a much better term,” Taehyung interjects helpfully. “It’s alliterative.”

“You want alliterative? How about a cock carnival?” Jimin supplies, before doubling over in giggles.

You huff, exasperated at the ludicrous turn in conversation. “I can’t believe I’m coming with you guys.”

Minho snickers. “Title of your sex tape,” he jokes, punctuating it with a suggestive eyebrow waggle that sobers your brother up immediately. Jimin straightens up and fixes Minho with a glare, and despite your brother’s smaller stature, the older boy still shrinks back slightly.

“Dude, that’s my sister.”

Minho raises his hands apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Automatic response. My bad.”

You just roll your eyes. “Are you twelve? God. I don’t know how the girls put up with any of you.”

Gradually, the night draws to a close. The number of people milling about dwindles, and Taehyung fiddles with his phone, letting out a satisfied hum when he finds the playlist he wants. The music transforms into something low and smooth, the soft R&B beat filling the room. You feel your eyes begin to droop.

“We should probably head home,” Jimin says, stretching his arms lazily overhead. “Noona here has to get her beauty sleep, and I don’t feel like carrying her back if she falls asleep here.”

“Shut up, Chim,” you mumble, but there’s no real bite in your tone. Jimin just chuckles and stands up, tugging on your hand until you’re on your feet as well. Jungkook straightens up too, and together, you bid farewell to the others and head for the door.

“{Name}, wait a second.”

You turn at the sound of Jisoo’s voice, tilting your head curiously as she lays a gentle hand on your arm and ushers you off to the side. “Yeah?”

Jisoo casts a furtive glance around the hallway, lowering her voice to a murmur. “I see what’s going on with Jungkook,” she whispers once she’s sure the coast is clear.

You stiffen, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you manage to find your voice again. “You… you saw us?”

She nods. “He’s been watching you all night—it’d honestly be harder not to notice. I just…” She sighs and looks around again, missing the relief that must be etched across your expression as her gaze lingers on where Jungkook and Jimin are loitering by the door. “…just be careful, okay? Jungkook—he’s changed this past year. I mean, I don’t know if all the rumors are true, but… he’s not the same guy you probably remember. He went out with Chae for a few weeks, did she tell you that?”

At your look of horror, she sighs. “Figures. She hides it well, but I know she’s still torn up about how he ended it after they slept together. So watch out for him, okay? He’s a heartbreaker. And he never, ever stays until the morning.”

Every word that leaves her mouth stings, but you don’t let that show on your face. Instead, you force a smile and pat her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell her. “I’m not going to get involved with him.”

You repeat that to yourself the whole way home, trying not to focus on the young man a few paces away and the way you can still taste him on your tongue.

[stargaze-issei]

— "𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞" (𝐛. 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; bakugou and you had been dating for so long, but always had to hide it. he hates hiding you, he hates seeing you sad, and you don’t know how much more you can take.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; a little bit of angst at first, but then fluff.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; bc… him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2.0k

it had been a long day at your agency, longer than usual at least. a lot of little incidents in your patrol areas, meetings, reports waiting for you to give them a final look. you checked the watch on your desk, almost midnight. by then, only the guards must have been in the building. a long, heavy sigh left your lips. you still had work to do, but the urge to go home was bigger, so after taking your things, you drove home, eager to see your boyfriend. bakugou mananged to get himself the title of number one hero four years after graduation, surpassing even all might himself. seeing him achieve his dreams filled your heart with love and pride, though it still hurt not being able to share those feelings with the world.

on your second year at u.a., katsuki asked you on a date after months of notorious flirting, no one was really surprised, in fact, among your class, everyone was happy because of your influence in the boy. your honey moon period was interrupted a few months later, on what was class a’s last sports festival. as third years already, all the attention was laid on you and your classmates. hundreds of pro heroes expecting to catch the most promising graduates, and your last chance to show you worthy. on every phase, you and bakugou would share knowing glances, secret winks at each other, little reassuring smiles from you and calming head nods from him. with all those cameras making you the center of attention, it wasn’t too hard for people to figure out what was going on between both of you. you ended sixth, only surpassed by uraraka, kirishima, todoroki, midoriya and bakugou, and were really happy with your performance. that same night, after a celebration with all your friends at the dorm, you went into your boyfriend’s room.

he was laying in bed, reading a book, but still reached out to pull you into bed. “mind if i use your computer?” you asked, him humming in agreement, too focused to pay you more attention. first you checked your personal account, when nothing entertainment surge there, you opened your official hero account. as you expected, the festival just endign a few hours ago, the tags were exploding. your face completely change when you started to read.

“so, are we just ignoring the fact that Y/N of all people was making eyes at bakugou the ENTIRE TIME?? keep it in your pants geez”.

“i’m sorry but if you think that bakuy/n thing wasn’t a stunt, you’re wrong”.

“guys. it’s as simple as looking at y/n, and then looking at ✨bakugou✨”.

“yeah it’s a no for me, like ok they’re friends but don’t make it fucking disgusting”.

and you could keep going. most of them were about how someone as great as katsuki could never lay his eyes on you, fewer were about how he was too aggressive and violent for you, and some were just people hating on both of you. tears gather in your eyes, was this what everyone thought? you knew from the beginning the difference between bakugou katsuki and you, who was lucky to even had made it that far, but you didn’t realise just how big the difference was. katsuki immediately felt something was off, so he left his book aside and grabbed your hand.

“i…” was all you managed to say before bursting in tears. bakugou hugged you as fast as he could, whispering softly calming words and leaving small kisses in your head. slowly, he took away the computer to see what made you so upset. blood starting to boil in his veins, his whole self shaking in pure rage. he got up, leaving you in the bed, still a little teary.

“i’m going to kick those losers to the moon, who the fuck are they to say those things? fucking bastards, i’ll shove their words so up thei–” he was walking back and forward in the small space of his room, stopped only when he saw you crying even harder.

“am i really th–that unworthy of you?” the voice crack made his heart break “i know i’m not perfect but i really thought that… that…” bakugou kneeled before you, looking at you dead in the eye. his hands gently reached your wet cheeks.

“don’t say dumb shit, dumbass. you are the most perfect person on this fucking planet, no one, not even youself, can say shit about that, ya’ hear me?” he did his best to calm himself down, knowing that you needed his comfort more than ever.

he took away the laptop before going into bed with you, holding you tightly in his arms. you were still crying, completely unable to get those words out of your mind. you loved katsuki, that you were sure, and he made clear several times that he loved you too, why didn’t people understand that? why it wasn’t enough?.

the next day, aizawa told both of you that in order to keep your mental health, at least until you graduate, to not make it official. he explained how sometimes, pro heroes had to keep their private life in check just to make things a little easier, as unfair as it sounds. so you waited, you graduate and held the impulse of kissing your boyfriend, hugging him, even look at him. it’s okay, only a few more days. katsuki sign a contract for two years with best jeanist, the number three hero at the time. you, on the other hand, had been offered to work with the lurkers, a team conformed by edgeshot, their leader, kamui woods and mt. lady, signing a similar contract to your boyfriend’s. you were overflowed with happiness, your dream had come true, finally you could call yourself a pro hero. you weren’t an intern, you were their equal.

“look, you are a great hero, but you are just starting” edgeshot had call you into his office, the manager of public interactions was next to him, talking to you “i did my research, and i’m going to have to ask you to keep this relationship of yours with ground zero a secret. you have so much potential, you need to leave a good impression or your hardwork would be for nothing.” you looked at your boss, seeing the uncomfortable look on his face. no one liked to ask those things, but sometimes there were sacrifices to be made.

“i have to talk with him first” was all you could say.

it killed you. not being able to love katsuki, to live a secret. most of the time all you wanted to do was scream in the middle of the street, where everyone could hear you. you loved bakugou katsuki, and he loved you, you wanted to spend you whole life with him, without hiding, without lies, without wondering if you were good enough for him. but it couldn’t be. now, four years later, both of you with your own agencies and a steady career, it still couldn’t be. again and again, no matter how many advisors you hired, everyone reached the same conclusion.

katsuki was waiting for you in the couch, watching a movie. instantly, you crawled to his arms, searching for reassurance. at least he was still the same.

“oi, are you okay?” even if his voice came out harshly, you knew he worried.

“i’m tired” you hid your face in his neck, intertwining your legs with his. you didn’t want to cry, but it was impossible to keep all the tears from falling.

“look at me” he said, lifting your face from your chin “what is it?” his eyes creeped inside yours, you hated making him worry, he lived the exact same things you did, but there you were the only one crying.

“i’m tired of this, bakugou” to hear his last name coming from you froze him in his place, what? tired of what? of him? you wanted to break up? “i can’t do it anymore” the way you grabbed his hand gave him confusing signs. “i want to go out with you, to hold your hand in public, i wanna kiss you and hug you whenever i want to, fuck, i want a normal relationship”

oh. it was that. bakugou sighed, a bit relieved. he understood, it was hard on him too, but at the same time, was all both of you knew. your relationship never had a normal phase, he couldn’t even remember the last date you had. how could he miss something he never had? of course, you were different. for some reason, the media had always been harsher on you. if it wasn’t your love life, it was your hero costume, or the way you did your job, how you didn’t have children, that forever tired face you got, they’d always find a new thing to complain. but you had your own fanbase, a lot of people who supported you, not for nothing you were the number four hero. being honest, katsuki didn’t know what to say. he hated seeing you like that, after all those years.

“let’s go out” he talked while getting up from the couch, lifting you with him “put on something comfy, hurry” when he saw you staring blankly at him, he took you from your legs as a bag of potatos “dammit, woman”.

once you got out of your surprise, you did as you were told after your boyfriend left you on the bed. his eyes glowed with a different shine, one that had disappeared a long time ago.

you got in his car, him driving. katsuki seemed happy, and that eased your anxiety. after a while, he parked in the middle of town. despite of the hour, there was a lot of people there, just as he expected.

“we can’t do this” you said, still a bit doubtful.

“of course we can, i’m going out with my girlfriend, i’m going to hold her hand, and i’m going to kiss her whenever the fuck i want, because she’s the baddest bitch out there and doesn’t deserves to be hidden from anyone”.

he said that. your heart raced, your cheeks heated up, what was going on? your belly had a thousand butterflies trying to escape. he said that. for the first time in five years, you kissed him without double thinking. a kiss filled with loved, confidence, feelings you couldn’t even describe.

he got out of the car first and opened your door, reaching out a hand. you were together in this, whatever happened wouldn’t be as bad, because you had him. there wasn’t anything else you needed but bakugou katsuki.

he explained what he planned while driving, you were going to go to every store you wanted, holding hands, sharing kisses. you were going to take pictures and share them with the world. you wanted an ice cream? then both of you would walk the entire tokyo to get you one, not minding the looks, the whispering. this was you and him.

and you did, you spent the most awesome night together, phones exploding with calls of both of you agencies. it didn’t matter.

you ended in a viewpoint, sitting in the back of your car watching the sun rise. a blanket provided the warm lacking from you bodies, even though you were cuddling. every time bakugou was at peace with you, unconsciously started to sing under his breath, in a really low voice. feeling his chest under your skin, his fingers tangled in your head, hearing his deep melodic voice. that’s how you wanted to spend your life.

“marry me” he said, his heart didn’t even race its pace. he was so calm, because he knew that your love was mutual. “c'mon, dumbass, marry me”.

“i love you” was all that left your mouth. he took it as a yes, and he was right. a soft smile curved in his lips, you were his, and he was entirely yours.

[softspideys]

Average (Frat!Tom Holland x reader)

summary: tom holland is the handsome, popular, and charismatic king of your campus. so why has he taken an interest in you?

warnings: none

word count: 3,000

pairings: frat!tom holland x reader

a/n: I personally prefer respectful frat boy tom to jerky frat boy tom. inspired by this glorious photo. I hope you you like it:) 

When Tom Holland first spoke to you, your immediate instinct was to assume it was a joke.

You’d just arrived at the party his frat was throwing and immediately made a beeline for the kitchen. You were never totally comfortable in situations like these, but after a couple drinks you tended to be more social and easygoing.

“Hey,” a voice said as you finished pouring yourself some of the suspicious-looking Jungle Juice. You turned around and almost did a double-take.

You knew who Tom was; his roommate Harrison was friends with your roommate Jess, but you’d never spoken to him. He was popular, but there were no rumors about him being a player or an asshole or a creep like there were with some of his frat brothers.

Now he was smiling at you, looking casual in jeans and a black t-shirt, a baseball cap pulled over his curly hair. “Hey,” you answered, once you were positive he was talking to you. There was no one else around you, but still.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um, no thanks,” you said, gesturing to the cup in your hand. “I’m good.” You figured he was just being polite, but then he continued to speak to you.

“You’re Jess’s roommate, right?” he asked.

You nodded, a little surprised. You honestly didn’t even think he was aware you existed. But then it hit you—he must be looking for her and probably recognized you from one of her Instagram photos or something. “Yeah. I don’t know where she is, though. I just got here.”

“Cool,” he said. “I’ve only met her a couple times—she’s friends with my roommate Harrison—but she talked about you a lot. I’m Tom.” He held out his hand.

Slowly, you shook it. “Y/N.” This was weird. If he wasn’t being polite and he wasn’t looking for someone else, then why was he talking to you? You had to get out of there. “Um, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. “See you around, maybe.” You smiled a little instead of answering before practically fleeing the kitchen and joining the party. The rest of the night passed uneventfully and you didn’t see Tom again.

You thought about him briefly afterwards, but decided not to dwell on it. Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he saw you by yourself and took pity on you.

A few days later, Jess ambushed you while you were doing homework in the library. “You talked to Tom Holland at the party on Saturday?” she whispered excitedly.

“Yeah, for like a minute. It was before I found you. Why?”

“Harrison told me he was asking about you. Want me to pass along your number?”

“No!” you said quickly, feeling your face get warm. “Wait. What do you mean, he was asking about me? Asking what?”

“You know, just like . . . what your deal is, and whatever.” She shrugged. “He probably wants to hang out with you.”

“Me? Why?” The thought made your heartbeat quicken.

Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. Why wouldn’t he? You’re a total catch. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

The conversation was making you more and more uncomfortable. Tom was good-looking and popular and probably had tons of people lining up just to “hang out” with him. What was so special about you?

Despite your doubts, you found yourself giving in. “Okay,” you said finally. “I guess you can give him my number.”

Jess smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Awesome. I’ll tell Harrison.” She leaned closer, suddenly serious. “And look, I wouldn’t push this if I didn’t think it was a good idea, okay? You know I got your back. Tom is really nice.”

She had a point. “I know,” you said grudgingly. “We’ll see if he even texts me.”

~ ~ ~  

Tom texted you the day after Jess passed your number on.

hey it’s tom, we met at the party on saturday :) i got your number from jess. i was wondering if you wanna hang out sometime?

You spent almost an hour reading it over and over, trying to figure out if there was any hidden meaning in the short message. Finally you wrote back: sure.

You expected him to invite you to another frat party or something similar, but instead he asked if you wanted to grab coffee and do homework. Midterms were coming up, after all.

So you met him at a cafe on campus on a chilly Thursday afternoon. He was there when you arrived, sitting at a table in the back. He looked cozy, all bundled up in a hoodie and sweats. You bought yourself a hot chocolate and sat across from him. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled at you. “How’s it going?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Pretty good.”

You looked around. He’d picked a two-person table, but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t pull up a chair. “Is it just going to be us?”

His smile faded a little. “Uh, yeah. Is that okay? I thought—I mean, you can see if Jess is around or something, but—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, wanting to kick yourself. “No, this is fine. I was just asking. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay.” He relaxed. “I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you would.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “You just didn’t seem very, uh . . . excited.”

You cringed inwardly, clearing your throat. “Oh, sorry. I’m not very good at texting. Ask Jess.” You smiled a little at the thought of your best friend. “She’s always mad at me because I take hours to respond and then it usually just ends up being one word.”

Tom laughed. “Oh man, my brother Sam is the same way. I have to send a message to him in all caps that says SOS EMERGENCY PLEASE ANSWER NOW if I want him to answer within the hour.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah, three actually. There’s me, then the twins Sam and Harry, and then my youngest brother Paddy.”

“Wow,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Your house must’ve been pretty crazy growing up.”

“You could say that.”

Before you got to the cafe, you told yourself that you only had to stay for an hour. One hour, and then you could make up some excuse as to why you had to leave. But as time went on, you realized you were actually enjoying yourself. The conversation flowed naturally, and Tom was a good listener. He didn’t seem to mind when you eventually lapsed into silence to get some studying down, and the two of you worked quietly for a while. He even offered to refill your drink when he went to get another for himself.

“Got any plans for dinner?” he asked finally, breaking the comfortable silence you’d grown used to. You looked out the window and saw it was getting dark out.

At first you thought maybe he was going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat with him. But as quick as the idea occurred, you shot it down. That was silly; he’d already been here with you for a few hours now. Maybe he was meeting other people after this and wanted you to take a hint.

So you lied, “Yeah, I’m meeting Jess at a dining hall. I should probably get going, actually.”

“Oh, right,” he said, glancing down at his homework. “Uh, same here.” You both quickly packed up your stuff and left the cafe, pausing before you officially went your separate ways.

“That was fun,” Tom said. He hesitated, and you braced yourself to hear some excuse as to why he would never talk to you again.

You certainly weren’t expecting him to ask shyly, “Would you want to hang out again?” You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him right. But he just looked at you, waiting for your response, and after a pause you nodded.

“Yeah. I would like that.”

Tom’s answering smile was practically blinding. You couldn’t help but return it. “Awesome,” he said. “Um, I’ll text you?”

“Okay,” you said. “See you later.” He smiled at you for a second longer before he turned and walked away, a happy sort of bounce in his step.

You couldn’t help it; you walked home with a dumb grin on your face.

~ ~ ~

True to his word, Tom texted you a few days later to ask if you wanted to hang out again. This time you accepted readily.

At first, the two of you just got together to have coffee and do homework. Then he somehow managed to figure out part of your schedule and would meet you on your way to class. Even if he had a lecture on the other side of campus, he insisted on walking you all the way to yours.

He started texting you more, sometimes sending you funny videos or memes, but also sharing random thoughts and asking questions. Now you checked your phone frequently, trying to get in the habit of responding quickly or initiating conversation with him first. You followed each other on social media and you noticed he’d liked all of your Instagram photos. Just to be funny, you liked a couple of his too, but then wondered if he would find it weird.

“We’re friends,” you told Jess when she noticed you smiling at your phone. “That’s it.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Are you kidding me?”

“I’m serious,” you said, because you knew what she was insinuating and there was just no way Tom Holland would be into you like that. Sometimes you saw him around campus, always surrounded by a laughing group of friends and admirers. He was like the sun, and you knew you were lucky to even be in his orbit.

“We’re having a party on Friday night,” Tom said to you one afternoon. The weather was nice, so you’d claimed a sunny spot out on the quad to do some homework.

“Cool.” You were more focused on the essay you were writing than the conversation.

“Are you gonna go?” he pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe if Jess goes I’ll come too.”

“Well . . .” He trailed off, and you looked up to see he was fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves. “What if we went together?”

You stared at him. Of all the things you were expecting him to say, it certainly was not that. “Like . . . me and you? Like . . .  as your date?”

Tom was blushing now, steadily avoiding your eyes. “Um. Yes?”

Alarm bells were going off in your brain. If Jess were here she’d be throwing a parade, but you knew there had to be a catch. Out of all the people on campus, why was he asking you?

You opened your mouth to say no, but then he finally glanced up at you. His expression was so earnest and hopeful that you found yourself saying, “Sure.”

“Really? You want to?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded. “Yeah, it sounds fun.”

There was that goofy grin again, lighting up his entire face. “Okay,” he said. “Cool.”

You knew you should be excited, but there was a nervous pit in your stomach that just wouldn’t go away. It was still there when you arrived at Tom’s frat house that Friday. You didn’t recognize the brother at the door on security duty, but he took one look and waved you inside, no questions asked.

You were a little confused; you came by yourself last time too and had to say you knew Harrison. But the brother merely said, “Tom put you on the list.”

The boy in question was in the kitchen, talking to a few of his brothers. He noticed you walk in immediately and his eyes lit up. “Hey! You’re here!” To your surprise he gave you a hug, and you tried not to focus on how good his cologne smelled.

“You look nice,” he said when he pulled away. In an attempt to feel more confident, you’d worn your favorite pair of jeans and a cute top, even allowing Jess to do some hair and makeup magic on you.

“Thank you,” you said. “Um, so do you.” He was just in jeans and a purple flannel, a black baseball cap twisted backwards on his head, but he still managed to make it look effortlessly cool.

“Thanks.” He paused. “I’m, uh, really glad you came.”  

“Me too,” you said quietly. He smiled at you and the knot in your stomach tightened.

Tom barely left your side the entire night. He introduced you to some of his fraternity brothers, whose names you forgot as soon as they said them. A few of them had brought dates too, and while they were all friendly and welcoming, you couldn’t help but feel frumpy and plain standing next to them.

It didn’t help that there were some not-so-friendly girls coming over too. They gave Tom hugs and kisses on the cheek before eyeing you critically. You could practically see the invisible thought bubble forming over their heads each time they looked at you: why is he here with you? You wanted to tell them that you were wondering the same thing.

The longer you thought about it, the worse you felt. It just didn’t make sense. Tom had practically half the campus falling at his feet; why wasn’t he with someone more talented, better looking, charismatic? Why had he picked you? You were so . . . average.

Maybe it was some kind of prank, some kind of fucked-up tradition in his fraternity: find a shy girl, get her to fall in love with you, and then break her heart. That had to be it. There was no other explanation.

“Are you alright?” Tom asked, tearing you from your thoughts. You realized you hadn’t spoken in several minutes, just staring off into space.

You swallowed. “Could we, um, go somewhere quiet? Please?”

He studied your face for a second before he nodded. “Of course.” He put one hand on your back, gently guiding you out of the crowded room and up the stairs. You followed him down the hallway until he stopped at a door with a sign that said TOM & HARRISON.

Oh. This was his room. 

He ushered you in and you noticed he left the door slightly ajar, so you could easily leave if you wanted to. Still, you immediately took a seat at his desk, not wanting to even go near the bed. Tom didn’t seem to mind, falling onto it with a loud thud and a content sigh. Neither of you spoke for a minute. Finally you glanced over at him and saw he was already watching you, a tiny smile on his face.

You couldn’t take it any longer. “Is this, like, a prank or something?”

“What?”

“This. Like,” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “all of this. Is it a joke?”

Tom’s smile vanished. He scrambled to sit up, scooting towards the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about? Why would you even think that?”

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to figure out why someone like you would be doing all of this with someone like me.”

He looked lost. “Doing what?”

“You know . . . hanging out with me, texting me, inviting me here . . .”

He stared at you for a second before he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I mean . . . I like you. I thought that was obvious.”

“But why?” You were frustrated to find you were near tears. “You could have your pick of anyone on this campus. There are so many girls in this house alone right now who are prettier and funnier and more interesting than me. So why . . . why me?”

Tom slowly stood up and came over to where you were sitting, kneeling in front of you. “Because I think you’re pretty and funny and interesting,” he said, looking at you unflinchingly. “None of those other people matter to me. I don’t know why you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re, like . . . not good enough or whatever, but it’s not true.”

You bit your lip as he took your hand. “I’m just . . . not used to this. Usually people tend not to notice me.” 

“I did,” he said simply. “And I really, really like you.”

“I really like you too,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tom said gently. “Just trust me, okay? I would never hurt you like that.”

He was being honest. He always had been, but you believed him now. You took a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”

Tom blinked in surprise before he nodded. You leaned in and kissed him softly; his lips were a little chapped and tasted sweet and sort of fruity, like the juice from his drink. His hands came up to carefully cup your jaw, holding you in place. It made your head dizzy and your knees weak; it was perfect.

It was like a dam broke. Suddenly you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t figure out what to do with the happy, fizzy feeling in your stomach. You pulled back a little, pressing kisses to his cheeks and his nose. Tom giggled like the touch made him ticklish and you thought to yourself, You were so silly to deny yourself for so long, to think you didn’t deserve this.

You knew better now. You knew you did.

[jisungsplatforms]

[Chapter V: Han Jisung, you irresistible young man!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Mature Content! language, mentions of homicide (no one actually dies!), oral sex (m. rec) (yes again), exhibitionism

Chapter Word Count: 4.2k words

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka @lbxgsunshine @cartierbin @solistired @rainbowmagicpixecorn @http-hyxnjxn @dwaebinnie @gothmingguk @minniehohos

Unable to tag: @kayannainsworth19

(want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

“You’re evil,” Jisung pouted, pulling down on his oversized shirt to cover his still semi-hard on as the two of you walked down the hall. You snickered, enjoying the way he walked almost painfully.

“Sorry,” you grinned. “But it was fun, wasn’t it?”

“For you!” he cried. He leaned closer to your ear and hissed quietly, “You’re not the one who has a boner!” You quickened your pace, turning your head to throw a wink and a kiss. Jisung grumbled, awkwardly waddling faster to catch up to you. “Minx. You evil she-devil of a minx!”

“Hey, is it my fault you get horny easily?”

“Yes! It’s you, for fucks sake! Have you seen yourself?” he huffed. “You’re on my mind 24/7, do you even know how much you affect me?”

Your heart raced. You rolled your eyes and laughed him off, hoping that he wouldn’t notice your flustered expression. Scoffing playfully, you said, “Now that sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?”

“Y/n~! Stop!” he whined.

You briefly glanced at his reddened face and sighed. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” You were about to enter the canteen until Jisung grabbed your wrist.

“I know how you can make it up,” he said with a somewhat timid look. He took a deep breath before stating more boldly. “Go on a date with me.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Wh-what?”

“Let’s go on a date. After school. Tonight.” Jisung stared at you with a newfound determination meanwhile your face grew hotter and hotter by the second. You stared at his reddened face, contemplating, before sighing.

“What time?”

“Oh, what? Seriously?” he gaped. “Holy shit. YES!” He threw his fists up in the air, hollering. “Oh my God, fuck yeah!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he rejoiced, despite the slight embarrassment you felt from the scene he was causing. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you camly shushed him with a smile. “Sorry, I was just—wow. I really landed a date with the hottest person I know,” he chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the top of his fluffy blond hair.

You giggled, moving his hand away from his head to hold it instead. “Better show up all dolled up for me, pretty boy.”

“Pff, I always look good, Y/n. What’re you talking about?” Jisung smirked, obnoxiously holding his head up high. You rolled your eyes at his playful arrogance.

“Watch it. I can change my mind anytime.”

“I know you won’t.” He brought your entwined hands up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. The rate of your heart beat increased, body tingling in adoration. Jisung smiled, letting go of your hand. “Gotta go now, I need to work on some stuff with Chan and Changbin today, but I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yup, see you soon!” You waved goodbye as Jisung walked away. He was only 5 steps in when he turned around and started walking backwards to speak.

“Tonight’s gonna be a surprise! Just be ready by 6, okay?” he called out.

“Okay!” You watched his retreating figure until he was halfway out of the hall. You walked happily into the canteen, thinking about your date with Jisung.

‘5:56pm’

It’s been 5 minutes since you’ve been mindlessly brushing the ends of your hair. Placing the brush back down onto your coffee table, you stood up to check your outfit on the reflection of the blackened TV screen for the umteenth time, bending down to sweep off any dust from your flowy pants. Now, you weren’t typically the type to obsess over your appearance, but tonight is certainly an exception, right? Grabbing the lip balm in your bag, you slathered on a thin layer of the sweet scented stick, smacking your lips together with a ‘pop’, and placed back inside. A notification went off from your phone. Recognizing the unique ringtone immediately, you hastily bent down to grab it.

1 new message(s) from Hannie Bear 🍯🧸

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: im outside!

Me: Coming out now!

You rushed to the front door, grabbing your keys and switching off the lights in the living room in the process. You double checked everything in your apartment one last time before leaving.

“Hey.”

You jolted in surprise seeing Jisung leaning on the wall right in front of your door. “What the fuck, Jisung, you scared me!”

“Sorry,” he laughed, standing up straight. “I saw Hyunjin earlier and told him about our date. He looked pretty excited.”

“Yeah?” you said as you turned around to lock your door. “Is that why you were standing in front of my door like a creep?”

You giggled at Jisung’s incredulous expression. “I wouldn’t say ‘like a creep’ but yeah, he’s the reason why I found your apartment.”

“Still sounds like a creeper thing to do,” you teased. “I never told you exactly where I lived, that’s lowkey freaky.”

“Oh, uh...Sorry?”

You walked up to him, smiling at his embarrassed face. “It's okay. You’re cute so I’ll allow it.” Grabbing his hand, you led him to the elevator. “Let’s go?”

Jisung instantly smiled, walking fast so he can be the one leading you instead. “Mhm!”

Instead of driving or taking a taxi, the two of you walked. Not that you mind, at least the night was cool enough for you to not sweat. “So? Where are you taking me first?”

“Hey, didn’t I tell you tonight is a surprise?” Jisung grinned. “No questions, no doubting. Just trust me tonight.”

“Well, for all I know, you might be a murderer luring me out for my last night.”

“Please. If I was a murderer, I would’ve killed Hyunjin and Felix for stealing my cheesecake earlier.”

You snorted. “Wait, you like cheesecake?”

“Yup! And chocolate cake! God, I love those.” He looked at you excitedly. “I think it was my mom who got me into cheesecake? She isn’t the type to like sweets that much but cheesecake is the only dessert she genuinely loves.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I remember my brother and I used to go to the store a lot to buy it for her.”

“Cute,” you giggled. You walked a few more blocks before Jisung stopped you.

“Aaand...We’re here!” You looked past him to see a small Italian restaurant. The inside looked homey, not too extravagant, with only a handful of customers inside. It had a minimalistic vibe that you very much enjoyed.

You couldn't help but chuckle. “Cheesy” you joked. “Were you hoping we would ‘Lady and the Tramp’ this?”

“Oh my God,” he gasped exaggeratedly, “that would've been so cool! But no, I heard from Minho one time that you like pasta, so I did some research and found this comfy, and more importantly, affordable place!”

“Aww,” you cooed. “You did research for me?”

“Psh, of course I did! I wanted to impress you,” he said cockily. “So, are you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh yeah, very much impressed.” You reached over to pat his leather jacket. “Especially with this sexy jacket you’re wearing.” Jisung turned bashful, fumbling with the zipper on his sleeve.

“What? Too much?” he chuckled stiffly. “Changbin actually helped me, believe it or not. He told me you’d find me irresistible if I dressed up like this.”

You took a step back to admire his outfit. From his blond hair nicely styled, to the black ripped jeans he wore that showed off his slender legs, to the runstar hike Converse he wore often. Oh yeah, this man is hot shit, you thought, biting your lip. You looked back up to seeing him fidgeting with his black mock-turtleneck with a flushed face. You giggled, gingerly placing a warm hand on his face so he could face you. “You look good, Sung,” you smiled softly, as opposed to the not-so-innocent thoughts running through your mind. “Changbin’s right, by the way. You do look irresistible.”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. “But to be honest, I find you irresistible no matter what,” you winked flirtatiously, causing him to blush even more and smile giddily. You walked inside the restaurant, instantly catching the faint scent of cinnamon. Ooh Sweet… You stood near the door, waiting for a host to seat you. After 3 minutes, someone finally came by.

“Hello! I apologize for the wait, we’re just slightly short staffed tonight.”

“Felix?” you and Jisung said. Felix’s eyes widened, just realizing it was you two.

“Y/n? Jisung?” he gasped. “Hey! I didn’t know you guys were going out already.”

“We’re, well. Not official yet,” you said. “We’re still in the ‘talking’ stage, right?”

Jisung nodded, humming in agreement. “But this is still a date though.”

“Lit,” Felix cheered, fistbumping Jisung. “I’ll show you to your table now.” Your host led the both of you to the corner of the restaurant. As you sat on the chair, Felix handed you some menus.

“So my bros, I’m Felix, everybody’s favorite little freckled Aussie, and I’ll be your server for tonight.” He bowed like he would during a curtain call of a play.

“Your theatre side is coming out, Felix. Is it intermission now?” Jisung joked. You snorted while Felix rolled his eyes.

“Just give me your drinks for tonight.”

Without looking from the menu, you answered, “Water.”

“Just get me any soda you have, man. Thanks!”

“Aight. I’ll be back in 2 minutes to get your orders.” Felix walked back to the host stand to seat another set of customers. You sat in silence, skimming through your options on the menu.

“Didn’t know Felix worked here,” Jisung announced.

You shrugged. “Me neither. I guess that’s why he’s been so busy.” Another wave of silence hit the both of you. You calmly looked at the food presented on the pamphlet. However, Jisung couldn’t take the quietness.

“Remember that photography assignment you’ve been working on?” he paused, waiting for your acknowledgment. You hummed, making eye contact with him. “How is it?”

You grunted, stretching your back. “Honestly. It’s a lot harder than I thought,” you sighed. “I’ve taken countless photos already but none of them seem to resonate within me. I feel so...”

“Trapped? Blocked?”

You stared at him, the mood now oddly serious. “Yeah...Nothing seems to feel right. It’s like I’m missing something.”

“Man, I feel you,” Jisung sighed. “Lately I’ve been feeling that too. You know how many songs I’ve trashed cause they didn’t sound the way I wanted it to?”

“The life of an artist, am I right?” you joked tiredly. He nodded, patting your hand empathetically. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Felix walking back to your table. “Oh shit, Felix is coming back. Hurry up and decide what to get!”

Pain. That was all the two of you could feel.

Your head was on the table, clutching your full stomach. You looked up to see Jisung blankly staring up at the ceiling. Is he still breathing?

All of a sudden, he looked down at you, a smile beginning to form from the corners of his mouth. “You too?”

You groaned, the pain in your stomach coming back. “Why did we order so much goddamn food?”

“Go big or go home,” he weakly cried out, raising his fists up. You laughed in amusement, regretting it immediately after when your stomach started to ache again.

“Holy crap, we’re gonna die in here.”

“‘Least we’re dying happy?”

“Is—shit...A-are guys okay?” Felix asked, worriedly. The sight of your empty eyes greatly concerned him.

“Just had too much food. We’re good,” Jisung answered, giving him a thumbs up.

“Barely,” you muttered as you slowly lifted your head up.

“I wanted to ask if you guys wanted dessert but nevermind…” he eyed you both. You and Jisung made eye contact together before looking back at your friend.

“What’s the special?” you both asked simultaneously.

“Nuh uh. I’m not about to be responsible for your deaths. Go home!”

You pouted. “Come on, Felix. Don’t you love us?”

“Yeah, bro! We can take it, let’s go!”

“If I go to jail for potential homicide, I swear to God,” he sighed. “Fine. The special for tonight is a chocolate cheesecake sprinkled with shreds of Belgian chocolate.”

Both your eyes lit up. You looked back at each other as if you were speaking telepathically. Chocolate cheesecake?

“I’ll get you both only one slice!” Felix scolded. “If you guys need to puke, the restroom is down the hall behind you to your left.” Your freckled friend walked away, into the kitchen, as he glanced back at your drained forms.

“Gosh, now we’re really gonna die in here,” you whispered.

Jisung snorted as he hung his head back over the chair, “At least I’m dying with you.” You stared at his limp figure for a while before feeling the urge to take a picture. Grabbing your bag from the chair, you dug for your phone, finding it, then pulled it out. You swiped to the camera screen and took some candid photos of Jisung. “Hey, hey! Do it again!”

You looked up to see him pouting. “I know I’m handsome but if you wanted to take some pictures, you gotta tell me!” he said, sitting up and fixing his hair. You rolled your eyes, scoffing in amusement.

“Fine. Smile!”

Jisung smiled, winking as he threw up a peace sign. You took two pictures before looking up. “Okay, do something else now.” Now he pointed his index finger and thumb out, placing it under his chin. He winked again, now smiling with his teeth. Then, switching to another pose; he puffed his cheeks, hands cupping his face with his lips pursed. “One more.”

He switched from a cute pose to morphing his face into an ugly one. You laughed, “Gross!” The two of you took a couple more fun pictures together.

“Wow, I’m so handsome. Look at that,” he said. You were about to reply when you saw Felix walking back up to your table.

“Okay, bad news guys. I for real didn’t plan this, but we ran out of dessert.”

“Aww, seriously?” Jisung pouted, looking up at Felix.

He hissed, rubbing Jisung’s back. “Yeah, sorry guys. I guess chocolate cheesecake is in high demand here.”

You watched Jisung frown deepen more, slightly feeling bad. “We can go out to buy some, if you want, Sung,” you offered, holding his hand. He turned his hand so that he was able to hold it properly.

Sighing, he said whilst chuckling to lighten up his mood, “Nah. This is probably a sign for us to stop eating.” He let go of your hand, much to your dismay, and faced Felix. “It’s alright, dude. Maybe next time!”

“I feel bad,” Felix muttered. “I’ll make it up to you guys next time, promise!”

“It’s okay, Lix, it’s not your fault,” you said. “We’ll just get the check now then.”

Felix reached into his apron. “Yeah, here it is,” he said, handing you the black bill holder before walking away. “Sorry, again!”

As You were reaching for your bag to grab your wallet, Jisung stopped you. “I’m paying,” he announced. You gave him a stank look before swatting his hand away.

“I can pay too, you know?”

He refuted. “No, I’m a gentleman. That means me paying for our meal is the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Equal rights.”

“My treat.”

The both of you tightly gripped onto the bill, death staring at one another. Neither were going to back down anytime soon. You stared hard at his face as he did the same.

“Okay, fine. Let’s compromise. We split the bill. Deal?”

Jisung hummed in thought. He was about to disagree until you pitched in. “I’ll let you pay a little extra?”

“Deal.”

You placed your split payment inside the bill holder and handed it to Felix. “Thanks guys, come back again soon!”

“Later, dude!”

“Bye, Lix!”

You walked out the restaurant, the bell on the door ringing as you left. You were about to take the path to your house until Jisung stopped you. “Park,” he whispered. “Let’s go to the park.”

You blinked, slightly off guard. “Okay…”

The walk to the park wasn’t too far, literally right across from the restaurant. It was a peaceful night, the cool breeze brushed past your bodies as you walked. Silence filled the air between the both of you; nothing but the wind and the sound of dirt crunching under your shoes was heard. The mood was...romantic. There was no one but the two of you in the area.

Your bodies brushed past one another every once in a while—more specifically, your hands. You wanted to say something when Jisung beat you to it. He shyly slid his hand into yours, watching you from the corner of his eyes, and smiled when you entwined your fingers together.

“Tonight was fun,” you said softly. You leaned closer to his body to rest your head on his shoulder. Jisung tightened his grip on your hand.

“Me too,” he whispered. “I just wish I can spend more time with you.”

“You see me everyday though?”

“Yeah, but like, I mean just you and me, alone; no one else. I—” he inhaled sharply. “I’m greedy, aren’t I?”

You looked at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“I want to be with you all the fucking time, Y/n. It hurts when I’m without you. I feel alive when we’re together. It’s like, I feel like my world would stop if I don’t see you.” You were stunned. You could only listen quietly to his rant.

“God, I sound so possessive, that’s not what I was trying to aim for,” he panicked. “I don’t care if you’re with the guys, or anyone else, I know you're not the type to pull shit like that; I trust you. I just—fuck, why is this so hard?”

He stopped walking all of a sudden and pulled you away from the path, leading you 7 feet into the trees. In any normal circumstance, you would’ve been terrified. However, this was Jisung—and you knew it, somewhere deep down, that he would never do anything to hurt you. He let go of your hand and faced you. “Jisung?”

His heart pounded erratically, he didn’t know if he was on the verge of getting a heart attack. He felt overwhelmed. Having you standing right in front of him felt like a dream. He took a deep inhale in hopes of calming himself down. “I meant what I said this morning.”

“Wh-wha…?”

“You’re in my mind 24/7, Y/n. Everyday, I always think about you to the point I’m starting to think I’m going insane. Every text, every call, every time we talk, my heart feels like it might pop out. I can’t focus and I don’t know what to do about it!” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Every song I’ve written was about you. Every time I look at my phone, I feel so disappointed when I don’t see a text from you.”

Jisung steps closer to you, nearly pinning you to the tree behind you. “You’re my muse, Y/n. I-I don’t really know exactly what my heart wants but all I know is that, you’re the person I want to spend my entire life with. I think…” he paused to take another deep breath. You could feel your own heart stopping, blood rushing up to your face. “I love you, Y/n!” Jisung declared loudly.

You didn’t know if the loud sound of a heart thumping was yours or his. You were stunned, happy, and scared; millions of emotions were racing within you. Not finding the proper words for yourself, you grabbed his face and kissed him. Jisung whimpered in shock, not really expecting that reaction from you. However, he quickly pulled himself together and kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist. You stayed like that until the burning in your chest overpowered the burn of your hearts. You both gasped heavily, taking back in the air you lost.

“You know,” your warm breath tickled his lips. “I never did take it up for the boner I gave you this morning.”

Jisung blushed, remember the embarrassment from earlier. “Yes you did? Our date is—”

“Then this is your gift.” You slowly kneeled in front of him, caressing his thighs as you went down. Jisung watched in shock.

“I—whoa. H-Here? I-in public? Y/n, that’s—”

“Do you not want this?” you looked up, wanting his confirmation. Jisung’s breath hitched, he never would’ve thought he’d be able to see you like this just yet. He bit his lip and nodded. You smiled, kissing his hip, before undoing his pants. You slowly pulled his jeans and underwear down to his knees, his cock springing up and slapping his stomach. You found yourself drooling, finally seeing his cock in person.

Jisung groaned, the cool air hitting his dick. “Fuck…” You licked your lips then took him whole, catching him off guard. He moaned, his hand now gripping onto your hair. “Holy shit, Y/n!”

You bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks, as you pumped whatever your mouth couldn’t take in. The man above you let out heavy breaths, trying his best not to moan so loud. That was, in fact, proven to be difficult for your mouth was just heavenly. He rested his forehead onto the tree, looking down at you. Regret filled Jisung’s chest, greeted with the erotic sight of your cheeks puffed out, his cock sliding in and out of your pretty mouth. He moaned loudly into his arm. You moved your other hand to fondle his balls, causing Jisung to buck his hip into your mouth.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “So good—ah! F-Feels so good, shit!” He threw his head back, covering his mouth to mask his noises. His ragged breathing sounded absolutely delicious. You took his dick halfway out of your mouth, stopping right as you felt only his tip. You sucked harshly on it, tongue swirling around it until you decided to play with his slit.

Jisung roughly pulled on your hair, moaning so loud that it almost echoed through the trees. “Y-y/n…” he whimpered. You looked up to see tears brimming his eyes. You giggled, laughing even more when the vibrations from your vocal cords hit him all in the right places.

“Feels good, baby boy?” you briefly asked, immediately going back to his cock after. He nodded, pushing his hips closer to your face, almost making you choke.

“Y-yes, m-mommy.” A wave of arousal hit your core. You could feel your juices seeping right through your panties. The nickname had you moaning, much to Jisung’s pleasure as well. “Fuck! Mommy, more!”

You continued sucking and playing with the slit on his head as you pumped his shaft with one hand and groped his ball with the other. The higher Jisung’s voice raised, you knew the closer he was.

“Close, baby boy?” you giggled. He nodded, hips no fucking into your hand.

“Yes! Oh my God, I’m so fucking close, mommy!” he stuttered. “Please! Let me cum in your mouth!”

“Such a good boy, of course I’ll let you.” You attached your mouth back into his dick, moving your head once again to bring him closer to his high.

“Holy—FUCK!” Jisung moaned, his hand back onto his mouth to control his voice. His body shook as he released his creamy essence into your mouth. Your tongue swiped across his cock to lap up the rest of his juices. His and your unstable breathing was the only thing that could be heard now. Out of courtesy, you tucked him in back into his pants and stood up.

“Wh-What about you?” he asked breathlessly. You shook your head as you patted his head.

“Nevermind about me. You’ve made me happy enough,” you grinned. “When you’re okay again, we can go back home.”

“So...Is this the part where I’m supposed to kill you?” Jisung laughed breathlessly.

The dim lights of the city were nowhere near as bright as your faces. The two of you walked, hand-in-hand, as slowly as you could, in hopes of the night never ending. But alas, the both of you had a morning class the next day. Jisung walked you all the way to your apartment door, telling you it was only for ‘safety measures’. What a liar.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” You said as you unlocked your front door. Jisung grinned, pecking the hand he held.

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow? Make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you playfully rolled your eyes. Letting go of his hand, you finally opened your door and stepped inside.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You turned around to face him. “Yeah?”

Jisung stood there with a smile wider than before. “I love you.”

You giggled cutely. “Me too,” you said as you walked back to him to kiss his lips. “Goodnight, baby boy.”

“Goodnight...mommy.” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes, “Hurry and go home already!” He turned around and started walking to the elevator, calling out one final ‘I love you!’ before he walked inside. It was painfully obvious that he was trying to act cool for you, but the bounce in his walk made him look like he was skipping gleefully. You laughed, walking back inside your apartment.

Inside the elevator, Jisung pulled out his phone to text someone.

Me: hey, minho?

when i finally get married to y/n...

please be our best man! :D

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] 📱 [NEXT CHAPTER]

[shwazzberryswriting]

Twisted, Act 3

*Day 25*

Haechan😘🙄☺️: gd morning babe hdyf need me 2 go 2 target

Lawan: Babe I got big news

Haechan😘🙄☺️: ?

Lawan: I have to buy new bedsheets CUZ MY PERIOD CAME LAST NIGHT my sheets are ruined I spent the last 20 min scrubbing my mattress

Haechan😘🙄☺️: alot of tmi babe but does this mean i can take u out for shots wanna smoke a celebratory blunt

Lawan: 🙄 its not even 9AM yet babe

Haechan😘🙄☺️: where r u getting bedsheets

Lawan: you were saying something about Target?

Haechan😘🙄☺️: want me to come get u we can go to 119

ill help u finish cleaning

ill make u lunch

Lawan: see u in 20?

Haechan😘🙄☺️: 15

Lawan: 😘

Lawan watched Haechan in the driver’s seat of her car, his blue hoodie covering his messy brown hair. He looked at home singing along to the music as he adjusted the volume to the sound system. His confidence in parallel parking made her grateful that he offered to drive them as they were out running errands.

She needed a bit of a break. She’d woken up early to find herself looking like she was in a horror movie, her pajama shorts and blue bedsheets were ruined with large red period stains. Currently, her room stunk of all purpose cleaner and antibacterial spray. She had been nearly done with cleaning her mattress when Haechan had texted her.

“So you’re not pregnant but your bedsheets are ruined,” Haechan said, turning the car off.

“I’d rather have a crappy morning cleaning my mattress than have a baby in like, 8 months or something.”

They shuddered together before exiting the car. 119 was a tea shop that opened early on the weekends. Haechan enjoyed going to 119 for the free upgrades. A couple of his NCT frat brothers worked there, and that morning Mark was working. It was easy to talk him into giving them discounts.

“Are you going to get a milk tea or fruit slush?” he asked her as they stood in line. She rested her hands over his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. “Coffee milk tea or strawberry milk slush?”

“So you’ve been keeping track of my orders?” she said, trying to keep her eyes open as Haechan kissed her cheek.

“We spend so much time together babe, I just know what you like,” he said, resting his head against hers. “What will I order?”

“Coffee milk tea or white grape slush,” she replied. His hold on her tightened for a second.

“I think you like me more.” His voice had made her nipples hard, which caused her cheeks to grow hot.

“Haechan?” a familiar voice said from behind. Loosening his hold, Haechan turned his head over. Lawan followed, and felt her whole face turn hot. Renjun, another NCT frat brother, was arm in arm with his girlfriend, Alexandria. “Hey, Lawan.”

“I knew it,” Alexandria said with a wide grin, shaking Renjun’s arm. “Renjun, didn’t I tell you last night that I thought they were, like, hooking up?”

“You were gossiping about us?” Haechan asked. Lawan wanted him to release her. It was hitting her that she and Haechan were legitimately dating. As in, their friends would know that they’d been doing more than just watching movies in each other’s rooms. He held her firmly against him as her nerves made her feel like her knees would give way. “But yeah, I guess you can say it’s official.”

“How did you two go from bickering about homework to...this?” Alexandria asked. Her eyes were shining bright as the corners of her eyes crinkled up and her mouth widened into a big smile.

“We’ve been getting along better,” Haechan replied, giving a shrug.

“Why? Because you were hookups first?” Renjun asked. He broke out into an innocent smile as Haechan let go of Lawan, his eyes narrowing.

“Hey! What’s up, guys?” their cashier, Mark, greeted them, relieving the tension in the air. “Yo, dude, my manager stepped out for the day. Johnny came in here and piled on the free shit. You want a cookie with your order?”

“We’ll just get our drinks,” Renjun said stoically, but began stuffing a few individually wrapped cookies into his leather bag.

“Don’t mind Renjun,” Alexandria said to Lawan, resting her body against the counter. “I’m happy to see you two together, but I do want to know how this all happened.”

“Haechan bought me a pineapple daiquiri,” Lawan replied before trying to rub her tongue up against the roof of her mouth. It felt like rubbing a sponge up against a brick wall, her mouth parched. “He’s helped me a lot lately.”

Haechan handed her a sugar cookie decorated to look like a pineapple with royal icing, distracting her and Alexandria. Despite Alexandria smiling at the gesture, Lawan didn’t know how to feel. She wanted to find the gesture sweet, but she worried that Haechan was only doing so to look good in front of their friends. The idea sounded absurd, but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying that Haechan was only putting on a show.

“Um, dude, I think that’s overdoing it,” Mark said, reaching over to stop Renjun from grabbing all the treats placed on display.

“So you like Johnny more than you like us?” Haechan asked.

“What if I told you I could double the boba in your drinks?” Mark replied.

“Not Dria’s, please,” Renjun said. Haechan seized the opportunity to tease Renjun for being so caring about his girlfriend’s drinks preferences.

As Haechan and Renjun heckled Mark, Lawan thought about what she and Haechan would say to their friends about how they became a couple. They hadn’t exactly lied, but Renjun’s joke had Lawan sweating for a second, thinking that he knew their whole history.

She was able to feign a smile and banter with their friends about why they were up so early. Renjun and Alexandria were trying to beat the large crowds at a new art museum that was featuring a collection of works done by Frank Stella in the 1970s through to the 1980s. By the way Haechan nodded passively to Renjun’s excited ramble, Lawan felt relieved to know that she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know who Frank Stella was.

Alexandria invited them to join, and take advantage of their student discounts. The first weekend of the month meant the tickets were discounted by another 5% on top of the 10% student discount. After thanking Mark for the free upgrades and cookies, Haechan and Lawan declined to join. She spent the rest of her day with Haechan, but she still struggled to let go of her worries.

*Day 30*

The lunch rush had been busy and frantic, but she’d gotten a lot of large tips. There was a tech fair near the university campus, so the out-of-town visitors gave generous tips. Since she’d worked 3 days in a row, Lawan had her entire weekend off. It didn’t mean much since she was stacked with homework.

“Lawan, can you check the front locks before leaving?” Ruby asked from the back office in the kitchen. They were the last people in the restaurant, the pair to clean up and set up for the dinner shift.

“All right,” she called out as she put the strap to her purse over her shoulder. Ruby and Lawan had done the lunch rush so often, they’d come to clean up in less than 30 minutes with their routine. “See you later, Ruby!”

“Bye.”

Her eyes were shut as she sighed when she exited the kitchen to check the front door’s lock. She was going down her list of errands before heading home. HMart for rice and produce, bank to withdraw money she owed her roommates, and then home for dinner and homework. She needed to take some aspirin for her headache and sore feet.

When she opened her eyes, the last thing she wanted to see was staring her in the face. She stopped in her steps as she stood beside the back end of the restaurant’s bar. Seated at the second to last chair nearest to her was Haechan, two pineapple daiquiris in front of him. Her face turned hot as his gaze was steady, his expression did not change as he turned his body toward her direction.

“Are you trying to ghost me?” Haechan asked.

She pressed her lips together and looked down at the daiquiris. Of course, Ruby wouldn’t warn her about Haechan paying her a visit. They hadn’t talked about Haechan when Lawan said she didn’t want to, but the fact that Ruby brought up Haechan at all was telling enough that Ruby liked Haechan and Lawan dating.

Seeing him in the flesh made the guilt she’d tried ignoring come rushing forth, making her whole face hot. Pulling out the metal chair before her, she sat down beside him, and set her purse down onto the bar counter. After the day she got her period, Lawan had gotten cold feet and ignored Haechan’s texts, telling herself her schoolwork was more important.

“I need time to think,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the daiquiri sitting closest to her. The maraschino cherry was slowly sinking into the deflating whipped cream.

“You could have texted me that,” he replied, his tone remaining level. “I would have understood.”

“Right, because you’re the perfect boyfriend,” she said with a scoff. Guilt clouded her vision immediately and she shut her eyes before looking up into Haechan’s face.

“I don’t have to chase you, Lawan,” he replied, his expression unmoved. “If you don’t want to date me, that’s fine. Just don’t be an asshole about rejecting me.”

“Haechan,” she said, feeling her throat tighten. She blinked away the tears that threatened to come. “I’m sorry. I like you, I’m just...feeling insecure. You deserve better.”

“What’s up?” he asked, turning his body toward her, touching his knee to hers. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“That morning we ran into Alexandria and Renjun, I just,” she paused as she looked away. She felt ashamed to think about the judgment her mom received for being a young mother. The world felt more modern than old patriarchal standards of her grandparents’ age (hell, even her mom’s), but the threat of potentially being knocked up while in college scared the shit out of Lawan. “I don’t want people to think you and I were stupid that day we hooked up. It all came from such a cynical place.”

“You think our relationship is cynical?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. He grabbed one of the daiquiris and took a drink from the red straw.

“You really wanted to date me after we hooked up?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Like, you really think we would have begun dating had the condom not broken?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Life didn’t work out that way. Maybe I was feeling horny and you were too, and that was supposed to be it between us, but like, come on. I know my concerns for you weren’t cynical, especially last week. Is that how you see our relationship? You only dated me because you don’t want people to judge you for being a horny idiot? Condoms break all the time.”

“Haechan,” she said with a laugh, furrowing her eyebrows as she sat up straight. She looked around despite knowing that they were alone. Reaching out to touch his wrist, she apologized as she saw him frown, his jaws tightening. “I like you. I like you so much. Every night I’ve been going to bed, crying, thinking about you, knowing I can’t just stop talking to you. I haven’t been fair to you, I’m sorry. It’s not you that is the problem, it’s me remembering how tough it was to grow up seeing my mom struggle a lot. All that hard work she put into raising me, and I could have been in a similar situation.”

“I would never walk out on you,” Haechan said, leaning closer to her.

“It’s not about you,” she replied. “It’s about me. It’s about how scared I was. I just...I needed time to sort through my feelings. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you shut me out?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing up. He had a point. It was a shitty move not to consider his feelings. “I really am. I’ll need to communicate with you more. I want you to be my boyfriend, Haechan. I want to be your girlfriend. Will you forgive me?”

He sighed and shut his eyes. A few tears rolled down his cheeks and it was her turn to sigh. Whenever he scrunched his eyes shut and opened his mouth into a wide grimace she knew they were crocodile tears. Instead of calling him out, she kissed his tears away and combed her fingers through his hair. She planted two kisses onto each of his beauty marks, one near his eye and the other on his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” she said softly, pulling him into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted his head to plant a kiss onto her neck.

“Let’s go home,” he said, standing up with her. He draped his arm over her shoulder.

As they began on their walk to the NCT frat house, Lawan pressed herself closer to Haechan. His body was warm, and his hold was comforting.

“Are you always this forgiving?” she asked. She’d expected him to do a little more guilt tripping. Perhaps go on a scripted monologue about how she iced him out with her cold heart.

“No,” he replied, looking down at her for a second, “but I did make a promise to you at Costco, do you remember?”

“You did?”

“If I was your boyfriend,” he said plainly, “I’d never let you go.” They were just a few steps away from the driveway to the frat house.

“Don’t finish that,” she said. They’d stopped walking. Despite herself, a smile was growing on her lips, hurting her cheeks. “You’re my boyfriend. You don’t need to-”

“Keep you on my arm, girl-”

“Stop. I don’t like this Bieber song.”

“You'd never be alone.”

“Donghyuck, I mean it.”

“And I can be a gentleman, anything you want.”

“Haechan.”

“If I was your boyfr-”

She shut him up by grabbing his face and kissing him.

---

Thank you for reading! 💚

[allforhader]

Our Little Secret

Officer Slater x (F) Reader

Requested by: @berkmansbabe

Warnings: Langauge, Some Smut

“Hey, you finally fucking show up” Y/N laughs at the three finally joining her at the park.

“Well unlike you, we have a schedule that isn’t in our control” Seth states sitting on the picnic table on the bench while Y/N sat on the table itself.

Fogel sat on the other side of her with a nervous smile. Little does she know that he likes her. But Y/N only saw the three as friends, nothing more.

“I gotta get a new lighter if we’re gonna pass this shit around” Y/N smiles twiddling with a joint container before getting up. “Anybody wanna go to the liquor store on the corner with me or am I walking solo?”

“I’ll go!” Fogel got up from the table stumbling a bit making Seth and Evan groan. They know he likes her but won’t say anything about it.

“Alright. I’ll get drinks while I’m there as well. I know the owner” Y/N smiles walking with Fogel to the liquor store.

Y/N opens the door for them as the jingle of the bell caught the owner’s attention.

“Y/N!”

“Sup pops” Y/N smiles high fiving the owner over the counter leaving Fogel confused.

“Is he your actual...?”

“No my good man, no I am not. And thank god for that one” the owner laughs as Y/N rolls her eyes going to get what she came there for.

Fogel waited with the owner while Y/N not only went in the back to snag a few drinks without pay cuz the owner is used to it with her, but grab a lighter.

“McLovin’??”

The owner’s attention draws to the two officers stepping in as he quickly grabs his permits and such.

“Oh hey! What are you doing here?”

“Beer run my guy” Micheals pays his shoulder. “Then yknow. The usual with cops on a break”

Fogel nodded pretending he knew what he meant.

“So what are you doing here McLovin? Not here for alcohol yeah?” Slater laughs with Micheals.

“No I’m here wi—“

“Y/N NOW YOU GOTTA BUY THE LIGHTER IF YOU’RE GOING TO USE IT” The owner yells as Y/N steps into the isle to the door lighting the joint already before freezing when she noticed the cops.

“I am gonna buy it old man...just uh. Who called the cops?”

“No one ma’am, we’re off duty” Micheals smiles as Slater locked eyes with Y/N while she took a hit with a smirk on her face.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer” Y/N laughs catching Slater off guard.

“OH! Yeah. Officer Micheals. Officer Slater. This is Y/N. She’s who I came here with”

“Oh is she a lucky lady?” Micheals teases while Slater straightens himself still getting a longing look from Y/N.

“Nope. I am very...single” Y/N smiles handing the owner the money she owes for the lighter. “Now, we are out.” She grabs Fogel’s arm pulling him out of there as the two watched them. “Later officers...”

“See yeah...”

“A college girl. He’s aiming high” Micheals laughs going to the beer with Slater.

“College?”

“Yeah man. You didn’t seem the college lanyard hanging out of her pocket?”

“No...but did you get the name?”

A few days went by and Y/N sat outside of her class’s building finishing up a note from the previous class when a few whispers caught her attention along with a pair of black boots meeting hers.

“Well. I would ask where you get your boots but I don’t have to now” Y/N smiles looking up at Slater. “Now how did you know where my college is?”

“Officer Micheals has a great eye for detail” Slater points to her lanyard now hanging out of her backpack. Y/N laughs a little smiling.

“Anything I can do for you officer?”

“I uh, wouldn’t mind taking you out on a date”

“Oh?” Y/N smiles closing her notebook and leaning forward. “How about coffee first? See if you actually like me...cuz I really like you”

One coffee later...leading to four dates later...and they can official say they’re dating. Or well. Keep it to themselves.

“Sneaking off somewhere ma’am?” Slater smiles leaning against his cop car as Y/N had just reached the parking lot to her complex.

“No sir, my boyfriend awaits at his place. Or so I thought” Y/N smiles walking over to Slater and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Are you off?”

“You don’t see Micheals with me now do you?” Slater brought her close before kissing her lovingly.

“So, the cop car being here?”

“Mm. That one thing you told me”

“Oh?”

In an empty parking lot, Y/N sat on the hood of the cop car smiling at Slater. He likes to admire for a moment and so does she.

“You gonna keep standing there looking pretty?” Y/N smiles grabbing the sides of his shirt the second he got closer to her.

“I’m admiring the beauty here, love” Slater smiles kissing her lovingly before getting more heated.

Y/N pulls away a bit to get her shirt off and Slater instantly planted his lips on her neck enjoying himself. She ran her hands through his hair smiling more.

“You going to make me feel good baby?”

“Mmm...yes yes I am”

A few moments later...

Y/N gripped onto Slater’s back with her nails and her legs around his hips simply enjoying themselves in the backseat of his cop car. He made sure not to go too hard with his thrusts since her bare back is against the door. But she didn’t care and begged for him to go faster.

“Slate I—“ Y/N moans getting close as Slater kept an arm wrapped around her waist and one pressed against the window while he thrusted.

“I’m almost there” Slater got rougher shaking the car.

“Kiss me, kiss me baby” Y/N begged grabbing his face the second he looked toward her pressing her lips against his.

Slater deepen the kiss the moment he climaxed along with Y/N both moaning into each other’s mouths. He parts from Y/N kissing her cheek and neck before calming down.

“Jesus Christ....”

“Hm?”

“God you’re amazing...” Y/N pants laying back as Slater opens the door behind him knowing no one is out there those late slowly pulling out.

“You’re the amazing one here” Slater took a deep breath saying so, pulling the condom off and tying it off.

Y/N brought herself up taking Slater’s shirt and putting it on before seeing the mark ups.

“Well you truly like to show that I’m taken” Y/N laughs talking about the hickeys on her thighs, neck, and chest.

Slater laughs putting his pants back on before handing her her panties and shorts. “I want everybody to know you’re mine” he smiles sliding back in and kissing her once more. “You wanna head back to yours or mine?”

“Mine, since I’m hanging out with the three stooges tomorrow” Y/N says with a frown knowing she’d reschedule if he had the day off since it was hers off school and work.

“I can sleep over still right?” Slater smiles making Y/N’s returns with a nod. “Your cat isn’t allowed in the bed though”

“Awww come on Tiger bites you that ONE TIME” Y/N laughs kissing him once more.

The next day came around and Y/N sat on the hood of her car waiting for her fools to get out of school. She was a little upset that she had to give Slater his shirt back but she knew she’d seen him tonight so she has all the time to steal it back. But the only clean shirt she got was a tank top and it fully revealed what he left on her besides her jacket covering the few on her shoulders.

“Y/N! Yo” Seth smiles doing a handshake with her as did Evan.

The moment Fogel joined his eyes obviously trailed elsewhere. Y/N caught on but didn’t think it was toward the hickeys.

“Hey” Y/N snaps with a smile. “My eyes are up here Fogel”

“Oh! Yeah sorry sorry”

It didn’t take long for Fogel to find Officer Slater and Micheals that evening since he just checks where they’ve been before. Fogel practically can get into the bar without getting ID’d because they’ve been with him before and not every bar is smart enough to double check.

“McLovin what the fuck are you doing here?” Micheals laughs setting his beer down as Slater looks up from his phone over to the distressed Fogel.

“Dude you good?”

“NO I AM NOT!” Fogel got into the bar stool now having both of their attentions. “So you know Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“We were hanging out earlier right? And she was like...a little revealing”

Keep it cool Slater

“Okay? Aren’t a lot of college girls revealing?”

Micheals you fucking bastard

“ANYWAY—She had all these fucking hickeys and stuff but like I didn’t know she was seeing anybody! I really like her and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it”

“Is there...anything you really can do? She’s seeing somebody” We can’t be subtle for shit.

“I mean you can jump the gun and think she’s...a whore but I know she’s not! She’s too classy for that”

“College does shit dude. You don’t know what she be doing” Micheals laughs again as Slater laughed along even if he wanted to punch his partner. “You should just be straight up with her if you really like the girl”

Y/N stares at Slater after he told her what happened. She couldn’t help it. She started laughing at the fact that Micheals would say that about her and that Fogel likes her. Like it’s cute that he has a crush on her but she thought the obvious disinterest in the three would’ve stirred that away but guess not.

“You take this super well”

“Well Slater, other than you. I’ve only slept with one other guy in my entire life. So the whore comment doesn’t affect me and you two are breaking up A LOT of college parties where some act like whores. You two see it a lot. But like I’m fucking smarter than that. I have a full ride through college, I have a decent job, good friends, and a boyfriend that I love. Yeah I get high sometimes but that’s about it” Y/N’s laughter calmed down as she moved her physics book off her bed along with her notes. She turns back to Slater moving himself to tower her. “Oh? Now what’s this?”

“You love me?” Slater smiles laying on top of her as Y/N brought her arms around him.

“I do, I love you”

“I love you too Y/N” Slater continues to smile getting many kisses from Y/N once he said that.

It didn’t take long for Fogel to find out. Well. It did. But it wasn’t...hard

Fogel one weekend went to Y/N’s school knowing she had a class on Saturday with the confidence to tell her but the second he spotted her, she was in the arms of Officer Slater.

So he did what was best in his mind.

Flip out.

“YOU FUCKING—“

Y/N’s attention immediately darts to the pissed off Fogel as she parts from Slater.

“Fogel—“

“I TOLD YOU THAT I LIKED HER AND YOU IMMEDIATELY SWEEP HER OFF HER FEET TAKING HER FOR YOURSELF”

“Okay I’m not a prized possession—“

“SHUT UP Y/N”

“Woah Fogel. Calm down don’t make a scene—“

“MAKE A SCENE?! YOU’RE A BACKSTABBING ASSHOLE” Fogel tried punching Slater as he has already kept pushing him back before he can even get in a “good punch”. But the more aggressive Fogel tried to be, Slater cant let it slide when he’s in uniform.

“Okay okay. No. This is assault of an officer and you’re under arrest” Slater states knowing this triggered Y/N at first since she didn’t know what was the plan here.

Fogel tried to fight the restraints aka the handcuffs being put on him. Slater immediately bringing him to his cop car as Y/N looked at everyone who watched anxiously before quickly following the two.

“You need to calm down”

“SLATER”

“No. Seriously. You need to calm down” Slater states putting Fogel in the back and taking the drivers not letting Y/N in until this was settled. “If she shows no interest you shouldn’t force it at all. And before you say “that’s what you did” I didn’t. She had every right to rejected me when I asked her out but she didn’t. The two of us got close and we fell in love. It’s not rocket science and I know you care about her. But shouldn’t you care more if she’s happy or not more than if she’s with you or not”

Wow.

Fogel didn’t really think that hard into it. Yeah, he has the reasons for liking her. But he didn’t think of how she’d feel about it. Only wanted to tell her everything. And after hearing what Slater said, he’s happy he’s with her. She’s got someone that loves her and will always put her first.

“Wow...I’m sorry Officer Slater, I didn’t even think about that”

“It’s fine Fogel. You’ll learn one day with the love of your life. I say that as a friend. But as an officer...don’t come throwing punches at me again or you will actually be arrested”

“Yes sir”

“Good” Slater faces forward gesturing Y/N to join the two in where Micheals usually sits. “We worked it out”

“Good. Cuz Fogel, he can’t do it because it’s wrong on so many levels. But I’m not afraid to kick your ass for throwing punches at my boyfriend” Y/N threats through the mesh cage separating the front from the back.

“Sorry”

“It’s okay, now let’s take you home”

[iceeckos12]

Prompt: Jongerrymartin but make it noir.

HI PIT. this was probably not what you were expecting, but hope you enjoy *jazz hands* this is current jongerry, pre-jgm

please let me know if i should tag anything!

Martin stared up at the faded gold lettering painted on the door, wiping a clammy palm against the fabric of his trousers. The other gripped his manila folder tightly, refusing to loosen his grip for even a second, not after all the trouble he’d gone through to get it.

Delano & Sims, the words read. Private Detectives.

He’d talked to one of them over the phone yesterday, a man with an achingly posh accent, who’d said to come at precisely fourteen hundred hours and not a moment later. That clipped, dry tone had almost been enough to scare him off, but...no, he needed this too much to run away.

Martin took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Come in,” a voice called, and he pushed inside.

The first thing he noticed were the swirls of cigarette smoke so thick that the weak light overhead glowed a thin silver. His eyes immediately began to water at the intensity of the smell, and he desperately wanted to bury his nose in his collar.

There was an exasperated sigh from one shrouded corner of the room, and then, “Christ—Jon, open the window, would you?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” There was a clatter as the blinds lifted, and then a solid thunk, and suddenly fresh air and natural light was pouring through the open window, throwing the room in stark relief.

“Sorry about that,” the man next to the window said, leaning heavily on a handsome wooden cane. He was just a wisp of a thing, dressed in a sweater vest like he was some sort of professional academic, with salt and pepper grey hair and dark, keen eyes. “Forgot we had someone coming.”

This must be the person I talked to over the phone, Martin realized. Sims.

“Do me a favor and try not to kill our clients, Jon.” He quickly turned to look at Delano—who else could it be?—who was stepping away from the fan now juddering to life, swirling the quickly dissipating smoke. It was almost startling how different the two partners were; where Sims was thin and short, Delano was tall and wiry, with inky black hair and cool, gunmetal eyes. The weathered leather trench coat and chunky boots had obviously seen some better days.  “We need all the ones we can get.”

Martin’s face flushed as he was struck by how unfairly attractive these two people were.

“Duly noted,” Sims drawled, limping over to the heavy desk stacked high with papers. He set the cane aside and propped himself against it with a quiet sigh, then gestured toward one of the ratty looking chairs. “Take a seat, Mr. Blackwood.”

Martin shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, I don’t…”

“No need to stand on decorum, not around here.” Delano pointedly plopped into the chair behind the desk, grin wide and toothy. “Jon just likes to pretend that we’re more professional than we actually are.”

“We’re professional,” Sims protested, sounding deeply offended. “Just...unorthodox.”

“Well, alright,” Martin said, and lowered into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

Delano cleared his throat. “Right. So what brings you to us, Mr. Blackwood?”

Martin thought for a moment, not wanting to speak rashly, or to give away anything too personal. “Well, I’ve heard rumors that you two are capable of...discretion, so to speak, and I would prefer that this doesn’t get spread around.”

“Ah.” Sims’ eyes quickly flicked up and down his body, one eyebrow raising. “Out of curiosity, can I ask who referred you to us?”

“Tim Stoker?” Martin shuffled. “He said that you helped him out of a similar bind not too long ago.”

Sims and Delano glanced at each other, their eyebrows doing a complicated little dance, though what information could’ve been conveyed through such a medium, Martin had no clue. They turned to look at him again in unison, expressions very serious.

“When you say similar…” Delano trailed off.

Martin immediately shook his head. “Oh, nothing to do with the Circus. I’m not stupid enough to get involved with them after what happened with Tim and his brother.”

They both relaxed immediately.

“That’s good for you,” Delano told him. “We’ve run afoul of Nikola and her merry band far too many times for comfort. If you’d said you’d gotten on her bad side, I’m afraid we would’ve had to ask you to leave.”

Martin glanced at Sims, who was staring very hard at his feet, then Delano, who was observing him calmly, patiently, the way a bird of prey sights down a mouse. “Oh.”

“Quite,” Sims murmured.

“Anyway,” Delano gave a wide, grandiose gesture. “Please. Why have you come to us?”

The manila folder suddenly felt very, very heavy, and he fiddled with one of the corners, rubbing the material between his fingers. “Well...I work for this, um, this shipping company. I mostly do busywork, administrative tasks, that sort of thing. It’s not very glamorous, but it—it pays really well, despite the company being kind of small.” Martin traced the grain of the paper with one finger. “I think it handles a lot of….specialty items.”

“And the name of this company?” Sims asked, pen poised over the little notebook he’d appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Anxiety plummeted his stomach into his toes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable giving away that information.”

Delano’s eyebrows rose. “Discretion, remember? Besides, we’ll need to know if we’re going to be able to help you.”

“If we decide to help you,” Sims muttered.

Martin took a few fortifying breaths, swallowing the nausea down. “Right,” he murmured. “Right. It’s, um...Tundra shipping company? Run by Mr. Peter Lukas.”

Sims went very, very still, pen poised above his notebook, expression fixed like it’d been molded into his face. Delano loomed forward, the gunmetal of his eyes gleaming like the sun reflecting off of a loaded barrel. “Is that so?”

Martin glanced toward Sims, wondering at his demeanor, then turned back to Delano and nodded. “Yeah. You two—you know him?”

“Do we.” Delano let out a dry chuckle. “Continue.”

“Right.” Martin shook his head. “Well, one day I was doing some bookkeeping, just...routine stuff, you know? But I noticed something off with the numbers, like...really wrong. And I double checked my math several times just to make sure, but…” he swallowed. “I think that someone may be cooking the books, or...or something. I don’t know.

“Anyway, I went back the next day but the numbers had been changed, and—and Mr. Lukas called me into his office and said some really weird stuff that I think may have been a threat? It was hard to tell.” Martin shook his head, biting his lip. “There’s been other stuff, too. Contracts with companies that I know don’t exist, visitors at odd hours. I think something really rotten is going on, but I don’t think that I can handle it myself.”

Delano and Sims shared an unhappy look. Then Sims pushed away from the desk and began to circle the perimeter of the room, his eyebrows furrowing into a thunderstorm on his brow.

“We’d love to finally be able to pin something substantial on the bastard—on Lukas,” Delano said. “But insinuating those types of claims without a shred of evidence...that’s a nonstarter. We’re going to need a little bit more than that.”

“But I do have evidence?” Martin asked, lifting the manila folder. “I took photocopies of the pages, and notated where the discrepancies were.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wasn’t about to just write on official financial records. There’s also some of the weird contracts I was talking about. I kept copies of everything.”

Sims, who’d walked out of sight while Martin had been talking, suddenly appeared behind him, reaching for the folder. “Can I see?”

“Be careful with it, that’s the only copy,” Martin said nervously, but handed it over.

Sims walked back over to the desk, hopped up on the edge, and eagerly tipped the contents of the folder on the space between him and Delano. They quickly sifted through the papers, wordlessly handing things to each other like a seamless, well-oiled machine.

“This is good.” Delano’s voice was almost hushed, almost awed. “This is...really good, actually.”

“But you see why I can’t go to the police with this, right?” Martin twisted his hands fitfully. “You see why I need your help.”

“Of course not,” Sims said dismissively, though there was an eager gleam in his eyes. “The police are so deep in Lukas’ pocket you might as well have kissed your life goodbye if you’d gone to them.”

“Oh.” Martin swallowed, trying and failing to come up with anything more intelligent than that. “Oh.”

Delano drummed his fingers against the desk pensively. “Speaking of, it wouldn’t be a good idea to pursue this recklessly. We appreciate you bringing this to us, but it does put you in a significant amount of danger. Do you have friends or family outside the country you can stay with, Mr. Blackwood?”

“Um…” He had cousins in Poland, he was pretty sure. Whether or not they would take him in was another question entirely. “Possibly.”

Sims reluctantly gathered the papers up and slid them back into the manila folder, before holding it out. “Come back when you’ve got something lined up.”

Martin lifted a quelling hand as he got to his feet. “I’d...prefer you hold onto it, honestly. It’s probably safer with you.”

Sims blinked, then shrugged and set the folder back down. “I see.”

“We’ll be seeing you later, Mr. Blackwood.” Delano’s grin was a sharp, toothy thing. Despite its grimness, Martin found himself inexplicably comforted by it.

“Please,” he corrected before he could help himself. “Call me Martin.”

-0-

“So,” Gerry said, long after Martin had left and the excitement had faded. He filled a glass with some ice, then tipped a finger of whisky over the top. “What do you think?”

“I don’t trust him,” Jon said almost before Gerry had finished talking, accepting the glass with a quiet murmur of thanks. “It’s a bit too good to be true. After years of searching, someone just...emerges with hard evidence of Peter’s wrongdoings?” An incredulous snort. “I don’t think so.”

Gerry propped himself up against the edge of the desk, staring at the dark bags under his partner’s eyes, the cynical curve of his mouth. He looked exhausted. “You never know,” he said mildly, taking a sip of his whiskey sour before continuing. “I think we’re about due for a lucky break.”

“We don’t get lucky breaks. We get fooled into thinking that we have a lucky break, only to get royally fucked later,” Jon snapped, thumping his cane against the ground for emphasis. “You should know that by now.”

Gerry frowned. “Don’t take this out on me.”

Jon metaphorical hackles went up, and for a moment it looked as though he were about to start shouting—but then he abruptly deflated and looked away. “No, you’re right, it’s just…”

Gerry sighed. It was difficult to stay angry at Jon when he bore such a striking resemblance to a kicked puppy. “I get it.”

They fell silent for a moment, sipping their drinks, lost in their respective thoughts.

“Shall we go?” Gerry asked, setting his glass aside.

Jon paused for a moment longer, before letting out a long, gusty sigh and draining what was left in his drink. “Sure.”

The elevator was still broken, so unfortunately they had to take the stairs. While Gerry knew better than to offer any assistance, his heart still clenched at how tight with pain Jon’s jaw had gone by the time they reached the bottom. They stopped for a few seconds to let Jon get his breath back, before continuing toward home.

About a block away from the office, they froze at the sound of pounding footsteps growing unmistakably closer.

“Hear that?” Jon murmured out of the corner of his mouth, the dying light of the sun glinting off the switchblade in his free hand.

“Mmhm,” Gerry hummed, slipping a hand into his pocket.

Martin was very, very lucky that Gerry recognized him as he rounded the corner; otherwise, it was very likely that Jon would’ve run him through. As it was, Martin crashed into them both, gasping frantically for air, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with abject terror.

“Martin?” Jon demanded, shoving the switchblade away. “What the hell are you—”

“They’re after me,” Martin gasped out, scrabbling at Gerry’s coat. “They—I don’t know how they found out, but they, Peter, he—”

“Shit,” Gerry muttered, suddenly becoming aware of the second set of pounding footsteps growing nearer. He took a moment to assess their surroundings, before grabbing Martin’s shoulders and hauling him into the nearby alley. “Martin, hide behind that dumpster. Jon, distraction time.”

Despite the situation, Jon’s eyes lit up with an exhilarated gleam. Gerry had just enough time to fondly think, adrenaline junkie, before Jon tucked his cane over his wrist, twisted his hands in Gerry’s lapels, and shoved him against the wall for a bruising kiss.

Gerry gasped into Jon’s mouth, his hands instinctively falling to cup Jon’s slim hips. He deepened the kiss, humming encouragingly when Jon shoved his jacket over his shoulders, exposing the thin black t-shirt beneath.

Jon was just beginning to press little kisses down the juncture of his jaw and neck when the harsh beam of a torch fell on them. Jon, who’d been a drama queen long before he’d joined am dram in uni, pulled away with a theatrical gasp, his annoyance almost startlingly genuine. Gerry tucked his face out of the way and adjusted his jacket, affecting embarrassment.

“Do you mind?” Jon asked.

“Oh,” the person on the other end of the torch said, sounding distinctly uncomfortable. Gerry tried to peek a look, but the beam was too strong for him to see into the darkness beyond it. “Sorry to disturb you sirs, um...you wouldn’t happen to have seen a person—?”

“No, we haven’t seen a person.” Keeping one hand curled in Gerry’s jacket, Jon took a step back, lifting his chin defiantly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we were busy.”

“Right,” the person muttered, and then the torchlight abruptly vanished, dropping them once more into the dying light of the sun.

They stood there for a moment, Jon breathing hard, cheeks flushed. Gerry tipped his head back against the wall, letting his eyes flutter shut as his pumping heart slowed.

Then the grip in his collar loosened, and Jon let out a pained groan and sank against the wall. “Fuck.”

“Alright, take it easy,” Gerry murmured. He pressed a kiss against Jon’s hair and rubbed a soothing hand against his back. “You did beautifully.” Then louder, “Martin, you can come out now.”

There was a brief pause, and then a shadow tentatively emerged from behind the dumpster. Martin looked far less rattled than he had when he’d first run around the corner, though there was still a healthy flush to his cheeks. He peered up the alley, wringing his hands. “Are they…”

“For now,” Jon said, grimacing as he dug his knuckles into the tight muscles. “We should leave before they get back.”

Martin’s eyes honed in on him. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jon snapped, straightening. “You should be more worried about yourself. You can’t go home, right?”

The question seemed to remind Martin of the current situation, because his eyes went a little wild again. “No, they...I left to do a bit of shopping, and then came back and, and there they were.”

They fell silent for a moment, considering that.

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” Jon said brusquely. “You’ll have to come home with us.”

“What?” Martin gaped.

Gerry was already nodding. “We don’t have much room, but we can make up the couch for you.”

That only seemed to make Martin all the more aghast. “Wait! Wait, won’t that put you in danger?”

Gerry looked up and met Jon’s gaze.

“We have...a certain degree of protection,” Gerry hazarded delicately. “It won’t do much against the likes of Peter himself, but lesser threats…”

“You’ll be fine,” Jon completed. “Now unless you want to run into them again, we had better get going.”

Martin glanced mutely between them, looking like he wanted nothing more than to argue. Then his shoulders slumped, probably realizing that he had no other choice considering how dire the situation was.

“Alright,” he murmured, defeated. “Let’s go.”

[taexual]

BTS Mafia AU / Their S/O tries to leave them

WARNING: strong language, angst, tough!bts they just want to be loved

JIN

You thought you knew Seokjin well enough to find a way to de-escalate the situation if he learned that you’d been thinking of leaving, but the fact that he had just caught you, suitcases in hands, in the middle of the night, complicated everything.

“Uh…” he started, hesitant. You’d never seen him struggle to understand something that was so obvious before.

“I thought you were asleep,” you spoke, hoping to alleviate his confusion but making it worse as you saw him wince.

You lowered your eyes immediately as if that was going to protect you from the hurt on his face.

“And that’s why you thought now was a good time to leave me?” he asked.

You could have said you weren’t leaving him but he could obviously see the bags in your hands – undoubtedly filled with everything that you owned – so you had to go for a different excuse.

“I don’t think there is a good time to… leave,” you said, stumbling a bit as you hoped you wouldn’t have to make this personal. You didn’t want to leave him. You wanted to leave this. This life that he’d shown you. This house, full of so many weapons that had killed so many people. “I didn’t want you to catch me like this.”

“Well, then you should have remembered the security alarm,” Seokjin almost scoffed as he took several steps closer to you. You didn’t know what to expect and you didn’t dare to look up at him. “I got a notification on my phone as soon as you unlocked the door.”

You hadn’t realized he was getting notified whenever people came in and out of the house but, admittedly, you probably should have guessed this.

“I’m—”

“Don’t bother,” he snapped, cutting you off. Then, before you could recover from the coldness of his voice, he grabbed the bags from your hands and walked back inside, crossing the hallway towards the staircase and not turning to glance at you as he said, “save your words until the morning. If you’re going to be leaving me, you’ll have to look me in the eyes as you do it.”

SUGA

Yoongi had been so busy with his work – constructing an operation that was meant to take down his long-time rival, who wasn’t much of a rival in the literal sense of the word, but Yoongi didn’t want to admit that he still held a grudge for when this guy attempted to shoot him seven years ago – that it took him three full days to realize that your shared bedroom had been untouched for quite a while now.

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he addressed one of the maids, tidying up the eternally empty and yet always so dusty guest room across the hall, “but when was the last time you’d seen my fiancée?”

The maid blushed so furiously, she nearly turned into a whole different species. “I’m afraid I don’t remember, s-sir.”

“I see,” Yoongi clenched his jaw, never one to make a scene in front of the people who worked for him. “Carry on, please.”

But his polite façade evaporated as soon as he was left alone. He couldn’t understand it – he’d been texting you. Leaving you voice messages. How could he have gone so long without realizing that you weren’t just busy – you were ignoring him. You were deliberately distancing yourself away from him.

He found himself by the door of your parents’ house before he realized that he was on his way over. Calling you had been fruitless – your phone was off. Asking your friends was fruitless, too – he didn’t know any of them. And so he was here, knocking on the door of the house that he’d never been inside of before. That he’d never even seen before.

Hell, before the door opened and he saw you, looking so different – and so distraught – even though it couldn’t have been more than a week since he’d seen you last, Yoongi wasn’t sure if this was even the right house or if his intel had been wrong.

But you were here. And you wished he wasn’t.

“Yoongi,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Well. I wasn’t expecting you to leave me,” he countered dryly, “but I guess we both love surprising each other, hmm? Do you mind if I come in?”

“I don’t, but—”

“Good. We have some things we should discuss,” he said, walking past you into the house and turning around to face you without bothering to look at the decor.

He wasn’t trying to intimidate you with his piercing gaze – probably not – but you still felt the need to defend yourself.

“Very well,” you said, closing the door and crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe we can start with you explaining how you found out where I was.”

“Or maybe,” Yoongi opposed, closing the distance between you by taking a calculated step closer, “we can start with you explaining why I had to look for you in the first place.”

“You didn’t.”

He scoffed. “I did. You don’t get to leave me without an explanation. Not with a month left to our wedding. Not ever. So, go on, then. Tell me the reason why you felt the need to run away. And pack your bags while you do it because I’m taking you home.”

J-HOPE

“Do you have plans for tomorrow night?” Hoseok asked. His shoulder was still pressing his phone to his ear, so, for the first few seconds, you didn’t realize he was talking to you.

“Oh. No,” you answered then. “Why?”

“Hold on,” he replied and then said into the phone, “you must have been wrong. I’ll call you later.”

You frowned and, prompted by the confusion on your features, Hoseok explained, sighing in relief, “I got a call that you’d purchased plane tickets for tomorrow. To Spain. Leaving at 7 PM.”

A hot wave washed over you as you felt your eyes automatically seek out the suitcase you’d hidden behind the clothes you’d decided to leave behind in your closet.

“That’s—”

Hoseok – who interrogated sneaky, lying sons of bitches for a living – could immediately tell that something was wrong. Not from the way your eyes left his as soon as he brought the plane tickets up, but from the way your expression was quick to turn into an unreadable wall. A wall that he’d seen before whenever you didn’t want to talk to him about something. A wall that he’d thought he’d burned down a long time ago.

“You did purchase those tickets,” he said, sounding more like he was making an observation rather than expressing his disappointment in your secrecy. “Why?”

“I just—I-I need a break,” you said, finding the words with surprising ease. You thought you’d never be able to articulate your need to get away.

“From me?” Hoseok asked, still using his official voice with you but looking a lot more surprised now.

“From everything,” you explained, not particularly smoothly, “I’m really tired of always being in the middle of—always waiting for you to come home and—just… I’m tired.”

He nodded – you thought you’d imagined it – and then, allowing the first hints of disappointment to creep in, he asked, “why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed. “Because I wasn’t sure when I was going to come back.”

“When,” he asked, “or if?”

You didn’t say anything – and that answered his question.

Nodding again before he left your room, Hoseok didn’t try to stop you. Not right now.

You needed a break. He understood and respected that. He wasn’t going to stand in the way of you spending some time away from all of this. Away from him.

But, clenching his fists as he walked down the stairs and into the garage, he was going to make sure you came back. He was going to make sure you wanted to come back.

RM

Namjoon had been watching you discreetly pack all of your belongings into a duffel bag for the past fifteen minutes. He wasn’t stupid, he didn’t need to enter your shared bedroom and ask you what you were doing. He knew exactly what.

You were leaving him.

So – when you exhaled slowly, double-checked if you’d packed your wallet and keys, and exited the bedroom, not turning the light in the hallway and therefore, getting startled when you heard him clear his throat – all that Namjoon did, was ask you, “why?”

“Namjoon. H-how long have you been standing there?” you countered, not really wanting to know but needing a second to recover from the fright. You weren’t aware that he’d come home; he’d told you he would be gone the whole weekend.

“Long enough,” he replied. He chose not to turn the light on, either, so you couldn’t see him and his voice wasn’t giving much away. Namjoon had always been good at hiding all emotions from his voice. “Were you going to call me? Or leave a note?”

“I was—” you started to say but, the truth was, you weren’t. You were just going to leave. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he said. The shape of his silhouette indicated that he was leaning against the wall on the far end of the hall, his face turned away from you. “I just want to know why.”

“I-I want to spend some time away from—”

“No. Not why you’re leaving,” he interrupted, “I’m sure you have more than one reason to leave me. That’s fine. I don’t need to know that. What I need to know is why you’re leaving without telling me.”

“Because I don’t—I knew you’d try to stop me,” you said. “And I would let you. I always let you.”

“Is that what you think of me? That I make you do things you don’t want?”

You shook your head but he couldn’t see it because he was still not looking at you. He couldn’t see the tears in your eyes, either.

“No,” you said, your voice about as steady as your heartbeat. “You make me forget what I want.”

“I thought you wanted me.”

“I do. I do want you,” you said. He wondered who you were trying to convince – him or yourself? “But I… I don’t want all that comes with you. I don’t want this. Any of this.”

You were brutally honest – for the first time since he’d met you – and you didn’t even specify what this was but you didn’t need to. Namjoon understood. He nodded.

And then he waited.

“Y-you’re not going to convince me to stay?” you asked, frozen in the same spot because this was so unlike him, you suddenly weren’t sure if this was really the same Namjoon who’d grabbed your hand every time you tried to walk away from him before you finished an argument.

“No,” he replied, finally pushing himself off of the wall and starting to descend down the stairs. He didn’t turn to look at you because he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep on living if the last image of you in his mind was your distorted silhouette with a bag in your hands as you got ready to walk out of his life. “If you wanted to stay, you’d stay.”

JIMIN

Under normal circumstances, Jimin respected your privacy and chose to confront you if he was confused about something. But these circumstances were decidedly not normal – you were gone. All of your things were gone with you. Your phone was off. He hadn’t heard from you in three days.

And that was why he was now sitting on his bed – your bed – with his laptop on his knees as he tracked your credit card payments and made calls. He found your presumed location before he could feel guilty about doing this.

And he got into his car, drove out of the garage, nearly ran over his gardener, and reached the highway before he could reconsider. Before he could stop and think that maybe there was a reason why you disappeared without saying anything. Without giving him a sign. A warning.

These thoughts came later, about fifteen minutes into his journey towards the motel where you’d been staying, and, by the time he was outside of your door – after bribing the manager – these thoughts were already halfway done with suffocating him.

Jimin really needed you to tell him that you were just visiting someone – a sick relative who’d decided to spend his final days in a questionable roadside motel. He really needed you to tell him that you hadn’t run away. That you hadn’t left him.

But when he knocked on the door and you didn’t open – even though he saw you peek outside through the gap in the curtains – he knew that was just wishful thinking. You had run away. You had left him.

“Listen to me,” he spoke, leaning his palms on the door as he pushed against the sturdy frame, “I could find my way inside, you know I could. But I won’t because, clearly, you don’t want me to. I’m not going to leave you here alone, however. I’m going to stay right here.”

A very soft whisper reached him from inside of the room. If he hadn’t been standing so close to the door, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“Jimin, please…” you were saying. “Go home.”

“I won’t,” he replied firmly. “I’m not going to let you stay in a place like this all by yourself. I will stay here with you until you feel ready to look at me and tell me why you’re here. Why we’re both here.”

“Jimin—” you tried again but he wasn’t listening anymore as he lowered himself against the wall of the motel and sat down on the cement floor outside of your room.

“And then I will take you home,” he decided, “I will take you wherever you think your home is. Even if it’s not with me.”

V

Taehyung finished a job a few hours later than he’d planned and had, therefore, found it necessary to stop by the florist’s – who nearly had a stroke when he saw the handle of a revolver sticking out of Taehyung’s coat pocket – to pick up a bouquet for you. You two were supposed to have dinner tonight and he was, clearly, running late; flowers were his way of making up to you.

A pleasant smell of food reached him as soon as he walked through the door of your shared house. It would have surprised him – you’d planned to have dinner at seven and it was now nearing midnight; all smell of food was supposed to have dissipated by now – but he was too relieved that you’d waited for him to think about anything else.

The dinner table looked beautiful. You had really outdone yourself with all of this cooking and Taehyung stopped to take his coat off, before calling out cheerfully, “I’m home! If I had known you were preparing a feast like this, I swear I would have dropped everything and—”

Words got caught in his throat when he noticed a folded piece of paper on the chair where you usually sat. Frowning, he put the bouquet of flowers on the table before leaning down to pick up the note.

“What’s this?” he called out again even though his heart had already started to pound in his chest, realizing what was inside of the note before he’d even opened it.

“I’m sorry,” your clumsy handwriting said, “I love you but I can’t stand another night of listening to distant gunshots and hoping it isn’t you who just died. Please take care of yourself.”

“No,” Taehyung said, crumbling up the note and almost laughing to himself, “no. You hear me?!” he was yelling but the echo of his voice was the only thing that replied to him.

Cursing loudly when he tried calling you only to hear the robotic announcement about your phone being off, Taehyung climbed the stairs, three at a time, to check the bedroom even though he already knew he’d find it empty.

“Fuck!” he groaned, throwing the door shut so hard, it rattled painfully against the hinges.

Not pausing to clear his head or think of a plan of action, he ran back down the stairs and towards his car. It was a chilly autumn evening but he couldn’t feel the wind as he entered the vehicle, only one destination in his mind – you, wherever you were.

JUNGKOOK

You spent a yet another Saturday night in the bathroom of your house, tending to the wounds on Jungkook’s face that he refused to go to the hospital for. You had no medical education and yet he wasn’t bothered by the stinging pain you sometimes brought him when you accidentally brushed your fingertips right over his bruises – in fact, he didn’t even come to you to get you to fix his face. He just came.

“I missed you,” he would say as a way of explanation but the sight of his beaten up features would drown out his words.

“Again?” you would ask, nodding at the fresh cuts and bruises. “Aren’t you tired of this?”

He’d never reply. He’d obediently follow you into your bathroom, allow you to sit him down on the closed lid of your toilet, and then he’d wait until you got the first-aid kit. He’d watch you clean his wounds in a way that you’d already memorized. He’d close his eyes at the feeling your soft touch as you carefully glued bandages on his face.

And he would say, “thank you,” before leaning in to kiss you. Before standing up to leave. Before coming back here again, next Saturday, bloody and in pain and missing you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you felt yourself say, your words breathy and uncertain.

You had just used the last adhesive in the kit to take care of the cuts on his face when you spoke up, and Jungkook thought you were referring to your medical supplies.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I can buy you—”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t—I-I can’t see you like this anymore. I can’t. I don’t want to. Please, just—please.”

“W-what are you asking me?”

“I’m asking you not to put yourself through this anymore,” you said, your hands wrapped around your sides as you spoke, “not to do the things that end up hurting you like this.”

Jungkook swallowed with difficulty before saying, “I… it’s what I do, though. It’s my job. You can’t ask me that.”

“Then I’m asking you to stop coming here,” you replied, looking down at the floortiles because it felt like you were saying goodbye and you lost your ability to think – to speak – every time you looked into his alarmed eyes. “I’m asking you to forget about me.”

Jungkook stood up – so quickly that he felt dizzy for a second – and reached for you but you pulled away. “Hey, where—”

“I’m asking you to leave,” you cut him off, pleading. “Or let me leave.”

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 6

Chapter 1 || Previous || NEXT

Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

“Didn’t you cause enough drama…” Lila never got a chance to end that sentence, because Mari delivered a straight one strong enough to send her flying several feet back before she came crashing down. Blood pouring from her nose.

The girl was about to launch herself at the liar and pound her into the ground when two strong arms grabbed her. She noticed the characteristic spikes on the sides of black gloves and stated to trash around. “Let me go you overgrown furry!” She screamed. “I will mix her face with the concrete until it’s nice and even!”

She tried to wiggle herself out of his grip. Most of the class surrounded Lila and were trying to help her. It only served to irate Mari more. She kicked her leg back, hitting Batman’s shin. It was finally enough to let her go. The girl fell down... right into the embrace of Chloe and Adrien who managed to get to her on time. The two blondes hugged her tightly. 

“There. It’s alright Goldie. You got her good. Rest.” The girl cooed and pressed her best friend to her chest, muffling the sobbing. Adrien was just silently there and hugged them both. When Batman tried to approach again, the boy sent him an angry glare. The warning was clear and the vigilante didn’t really need anything from the girl right now. 

After a bit, Mari fell asleep in their embrace. The stress finally caught up to her and she couldn’t hold exhaustion at bay any longer. Chloe easily picked her up and started to walk toward a taxi that was conveniently parked nearby, waiting for them. 

“What!?” Angry Alya looked from Lila who was now being cared for by a pair of paramedics. She turned to Commissioner Gordon who was discussing something with Batman. “You!” 

The policeman looked at her curiously. Alya continued her shouting. “You’re letting her go just like that? She just assaulted Lila! She might’ve ruined her modeling career! Arrest her!”

“Miss.” Gordon shook his head. “These are some of the braves men and women in Gotham, but I doubt any of them would dare to try and arrest her right now. They don’t get paid enough.”

“What?!” Several kids started to protest, but Gordon just ignored them and directed Harvey to start taking statements. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with these brats. 

--------

Bruce sighed as he exited the Batmobile. Almost immediately, he was swarmed by the rest of his family. Jason and Dick practically carried him, still in the suit, to the movie room. 

“Now, Ladies and Gents, we have some of the greatest shows for you. We call it… The Demon Trashing!”

What followed was a clip taken from monitoring in the anteroom of the CEO office in Wayne Tower. He watched as Damian, dressed in civilian clothing, and carrying a simple ninjato on his back entered the room. He walked around for a moment before knocking on the main office doors, but whatever answer he got seemed to have irritated him given the scowl that formed on his face. He walked over to the PA’s desk that stood there, but no one was here. After a short moment, one could see the elevator doors open again and a small girl in a smart outfit walked in. Damian dashed to the shadows before she had a chance to notice him. 

Bruce resisted the urge to facepalm. He could already see where this was going. 

When the girl started to walk to the desk, his son suddenly reappeared with the sword drawn. He pressed the blade to her neck. From the angle, it was impossible to see either of them expressions. The man did not expect his son to kill a civilian for trespassing, but the amount of glee on Jason’s and Dick’s faces was suggesting that his headache hadn’t really started.

The girl suddenly grabbed the blade and pushed it away. Damian, probably acting on instinct, tried to cut her, but she just walked out of the way and disarmed his son before knocking him out. There was a short skip to when Jason and Dick entered the room. The small girl was clearly very much irritated with them from the start and when she reached her limits, she used a pencil as a projectile to open the elevator doors. 

A small smirk made its way to Bruce’s face when he saw her storm past his three sons, carrying the ninjato through a tissue. The video ended with Damian waking up.

“And that’s how Drake’s new PA trashed a certain Demon Spawn. I swear, she could probably give Luthor’s bodyguard a run for her money when it comes to being a badass” Jason commented on the silent video in his typical fashion. 

“Tt. She stole my sword.” Damian huffed.

“You mean the sword she later used to stab Riddler’s man before disarming him?”

“I still consider the best part of today when she called B. an overgrown furry,” Dick said trying to hold back on laugher.

“Wait. I have a new personal assistant?” Tim asked half-awake. 

“Yeah. She was supposed to be an intern, but apparently, Sarah hired her on the spot and quit.”

“Oh… Cool.” Tim said and took a swing from his gargantuan cup. 

“Did you manage to pull the video of her taking down Riddler?” Bruce asked.

“The cameras malfunctioned before she even entered.”

“It was me,” Tim confessed. “I was still in my office when the alarm sounded. I keep a separate copy of my suit in a hidden compartment. To save time I dressed there, but I had to disable the CCTV…”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever.” Jason shut him up. “I also got the part when Damian’s eyes roll back as my new screensaver.”

“Tt. You’re lucky I don’t have my sword.”

“Don’t think you’re getting it back any time soon,” Bruce said in a stern tone and sighed. “What exactly do we know about her?”

“She is from Gotham, but she lives in Paris for some years. She said she was practicing martial arts since she was five.” Dick started

“She is also one bada…”

Jason was interrupted by Alfred, who entered the room with a plate full of cookies and tea. “A young woman just called. She asked me to forward a message to young master Damian.”

“Tt. What is it?”

“I quote. ‘Good luck getting your sword back now. Police took it as evidence. Suck it, Wayne.’ I believe the woman was young miss Chloe Bourgeoise.”

Dick, Jason, and Tim were literally rolling on the floor laughing. Bruce just facepalmed.

“No, you can’t break into the evidence room. You might jeopardize the whole investigation if you taint the evidence.” Bruce said in an exasperated tone. 

----------

It was late after midnight (or even early morning, depends on your definition) when the vigilantes returned from the patrol, only to meet Tim and Barbara working on something on Batcomputer in tandem. Whatever it was, they were completely devoted to it since neither realized they had company until Bruce made a coughing sound.

“Not now.” 

“What exactly are you doing?” The father inside Bruce resisted the urge to force-feed Tim some sleeping meds. 

“We’re doing the background check,” Barbara said while typing frantically.

“On my new personal assistant.” The boy supplied.

“oh?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Like… from what we found she is either the worst bitch on the block or strongest badass around.”

“Langauge master Tim.” Alfred scolded him. 

“Sorry. But like seriously! There are so many contradictions.”

“Check this out.” She pulled out a scan of a letter. It was largely creased, but still perfectly readable. “Her adopted parents one day disappeared, leaving her everything they owed sans some of their clothes. It was like they packed and left.”

“You suspect a foul play?”

“I’m not sure. The investigation was a joke and so was the follow-up proceeding. The interesting part is the custody battle that followed.” 

“Jagged freaking Stone and Parisian Mayor.” Tim interrupted Babs. “It ended with a compromise that Jagged was lawfully named her uncle and Mayor became her guardian. She was the one who suggested it.”

“How can one be lawfully named someone’s uncle?”

“Apparently one can in France. Or they just made some concessions to a celebrity. Seen weirder things.” He shrugged. “She was also his designer for years now. You remember that mysterious MDC?”

“The one you used to fawn over?” Bruce asked.

“She is brilliant so sue me.” The boy huffed. “Also, it stands for Marigold Désign et Création. She runs an internet boutique where she takes commissions from both commoners and celebrities.”

“What does it have to do with anything?” 

“I’m getting to that. Gee.” 

“Maybe I will get there?” Babs tried to take over. “She’s been working part-time as a babysitter to get funds to buy materials for new clothes and received nothing but praise. She also became a class representative. A successful one at that. She also holds the national championship in U-17 Mechastrike.”

“How is that important exactly?” 

“You wanted to know everything about her B., so we are giving you everything.” Tim sassed

“Just… get to the important parts.” He shook his head. What did he do to deserve this?

“Fine. Her school records are a mess. Skipping that they wouldn’t hold to any official inspection, they straight-up contradict each other.” Tim waved his hand in some undefined gesture. “On one hand, she receives nothing but praise from the teachers, but at the same time, there are multiple bullying reports and even several assaults in here. Most of them were met with harsh punishments.” Tim opened a separate file. “Too harsh according to the school charter.”

“It didn’t help that the letter from her parents also mentioned these kinds of things.” Babs chimed in, trying to regain control of the tale. Bruce just gave an exasperated sigh. He just gave up and allowed them to solve it, mentally already cataloging the information. 

“Except! There were statements from several people that contradicted this. Especially Chloe Bourgeois. She said, ‘Puh-lease! Mari is the kindest doormat in the world. I was mean to her for years and she still welcomed me back with open arms.’ Given her track record, I’m inclined to believe it.” 

“There was also this Drama, capital ‘D’, with MDC stealing designs. Several tabloids caught the wind of it and it even led to the police investigation. Only after Jagged Stone intervened, the thing quickly shut up.”

“Now onto the juicy parts!” Babs smiled. 

“And that was what? An introduction?”

“Yup. She has a certified black belt in two different martial arts, is a master gymnast, has an IQ of over 130 and owns two separate businesses in Paris.” She quickly read. “As we mentioned, she is the honorary lawful niece of Jagged Stone, but also designed for Clara Nightingale, Nadia Chamack, worked with Gabriel Agreste, was offered an internship from Audrey Bourgeois before she became her ward. She was seen hanging out with Kagami Tsurugi, world-renowned fencer, and Luka Couffaine, the rising star under Jagged Stone’s tutelage.”

“That was fast.” Tim summarised. 

“Yeah. Also, she was adopted some nine years ago. She originally comes from Gotham.”

“Do we know her biological parents?” Bruce asked, getting serious.

“That’s where it gets juicy. When I tried to pull out her adoption files, the computer shut down to avoid detection. There is some serious encryption on it. Probably due to who her father is. We got some of it. She described her mother as ‘wearing an outfit that showed more skin than her beachwear’, so we suspect she was a prostitute.”

“Hm… It’s not unheard of. You say she was with her mother until she was eight?”

“Between seven and nine the file said.”

“Hm… Do you think she is a threat?”

“No. But I have a different question. Why didn’t the league investigate Paris’ supervillain?”

“We were made aware of him only recently, after what our satellites mistook for Poison Ivy attack,” Batman said in an irritated tone. The fact that there was a supervillain running around for close to four years completely undetected grated on his nerves. “Diana Prince has been investigating for some time now. She has it under control.”

“The only problem I see is that she is only sixteen,” Barbara pointed.

“I mean I’m barely seventeen and I ran this company for two years now. And don’t act high and mighty. You started playing Batgirl at fifteen.”

“Played?!” She screamed. 

“You wore a hoodie and carnival mask at first.”

This quickly developed into an insults contest until Bruce finally had enough. He just shook his head and left. Alfred silently followed him, carrying a plate of sandwiches. 

-----

The next morning, Mari woke up in her bed, with Chloe and her curled together in a mess of limbs and clothes. Of course, she panicked and jumped up, waking the blonde.

“Honestly, Goldie, five more minutes. I need my beauty sleep!” She murmured.

“Um… Why are we in one bed?”

“Because you fell asleep hugging me yesterday and refused to let go at any point. I swear I wanted to get a crowbar. Ridiculous!”

“Sorry…” Mari gave her a sheepish smile.

“None of that! You ruined Lila’s face in one punch. Adrien texted me that in the end she lost seven teeth and will require plastic surgery for her nose not to look like a mashed potato.”

“No…!” Her eyes widened. 

“Yup.” Chloe grinned, popping the ‘p’. 

“That’s awful! I can already imagine how much the class will hate me now! And the employees that saw this! There were cameras there!”

“Some people actually applauded you. It could be also because you called Batman an overgrown Furry though…” Chloe’s voice wandered off. Mari collapsed onto the bed, head buried in the pillows.

“Kill me…”

“Can I kill you with hugs?”

“Fine…”

When the panicking bluenette finally calmed down, Chloe got her to sit down and showed her the headlines.

Brave WE employee saves dozens of lives!

A hero without a suit!

Civilian stopped Riddler!

Personal Assistant takes down a dangerous criminal!

They were all overly positive and showed much support. Only one tried to vilify her based on Lila’s comment and her being punched, but it quoted Ladyblog as a reliable source, so it was dismissed. The majority of the comments were also positive. The ‘overgrown Furry’ was already trending too. 

Only one of the articles contained the list of names of people killed in the attack.

Ted Black - a security guard, put himself between the bullet and another employee Sigfried Osborne - a security guard, died when he tried to stop them from entering Molly Bishop - a PR specialist, called the police when she thought the guards were busy Heidi Dickson - a security guard, killed in crossfire Craig Lloyd - an HR employee, wrestled the gun from one of the henchmen before he was shot in the back. Ethel Arson - A lawyer, killed in crossfire Christian Thorn - a security guard, shot two of the riddler’s henchmen in defense of a group of hostages.

Their room had several live plants on the rail. Mari walked to them and allowed her powers to flow. Slowly, the flowers bloomed. She picked seven beautiful flowers and put them on the table.

“Mari… I’m sure they will understand if you don’t come to work today…” Chloe placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder.

“No… No. I won’t be scared into hiding by Riddler of all people.” She said with determination and some coldness in her voice. She stood up and walked to her suitcase. From there, she gathered a different outfit. Now she would wear a red shirt, a black blazer with the Ladybug logo on her right breast, a black pencil skirt, and black leather ballet shoes (she still hated heels). But the greatest change was her hair and eyes. She let go of her twin pigtails and allowed her wavy hair to run free. It was no longer black, instead turning dark blue with purple highlights. Her eyes also changed. Her bluebell eyes also changed. The iridescent green she used to suppress was now mixed with the normal eye color, giving an entrancing effect that was hard to stop looking at.

“It’s time to rock this place.” She smiled at her best friend.

------- (Play ‘Confident’ by Demi Lovato) --------

Marigold and Chloe entered the Wayne Enterprises in full stride. Flashing her pass, she got them through control without the queue or checking, much to the shock of the class (who still had no idea Mari was now technically their boss). Adrien showed the girls thumbs up. Lila was seething, but neither Chloe nor Marigold paid her any mind and guards didn’t let her follow them and straight-up kicked her to the back of the queue. 

Mari gave a nod to the receptionist, but they didn’t slow down. Elevator was about to close, but one of the employees held it for her. Once they entered, she quickly checked her tablet and the to-do list she had for that day. First stop: PR. Chloe was going to HR to receive a new mentor after… the previous day.

When she entered the Public Relations department, Mari didn’t stop to chat with the employee that looked at her in awe. Her goal was the department’s head office and that’s where she would go. Gently knocking on the doors before entering, she pushed the doors. While she was smiling kindly, her whole posture screamed professional. 

“Hello. Mr. Drake will need the Friday press conference plan adjusted in response to what happened yesterday. There needs to be a mention of the event, as we won’t want to sound too detached. The press would tear us apart. Some gesture to show the public that we care…”

“Maybe a memory board in the lobby? And perhaps schedule Mr. Drake to visit each of the families somewhere next week?”

“I think it will be okay…” For a short moment, Mari allowed her confidence to drop, but she quickly gathered herself and made a note in her calendar. 

“If that’s all…”

“I will also need a press statement no later than by lunch.” She said quickly. “Make it a priority and forward it to me to read before you post it.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The man smiled. Mari was about to leave when he spoke again. “And thank you for yesterday. Many people owe you their lives.”

She stopped in her tracks, unable to say a word. Finally, she regained her composure. “Thank you. I… I’m coping.” 

As she left the office toward the elevator, Lila and Alya, who were interning in that department, tried to speak with her, but she didn’t even spare them a glance. Alya tried to grab her, but she was stopped by one of the older employees. As the elevator doors closed, Mari could see the girls receive a serious scolding. A grin made its way onto her face. Lila and Alya would have a really hard life for the next two months. Especially if she had anything to say about it. 

Her next stop was the security office. She entered it with a neutral expression, but it lasted only maybe five steps from the elevator. She didn’t tear up. She was a Gothamite inside. Right as one walked out of the elevator, there was a small bar, behind which a board was filled with pictures. Some looked really old, black and white or even sepia, while some others were high-quality and new. Roughly half of them were the clean pictures one would attach to a resume. The other half were profile pictures from social media. Or a photo that was taken in the forest. One was even a detailed drawing of a person. There were maybe fifty of them in total.

“It’s a reminder. Guards who lost their lives since the founding of WE” An older man said. “Silas Wayne started the tradition after he served in the Great War. You’re here for something miss?”

“Oh… Yes. The security on Friday press conference. We must increase it by about fifty percent. And make sure that only those with invites can enter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.

“Um…” Mari suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. 

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault.” He said in a comforting voice.

“Thank you, sir.” She allowed a weak smile to enter her face before she left. Only two more stops. 

The elevator next took her to the Legal Department. She had many things that needed to be done here. Chloe met her as soon as she exited the elevator. Mari managed to regain her professional posture and once more emanated the aura of confidence. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up, but she was determined to show that she was okay. 

“I already forwarded your requests. At first, Madame McKinsley was reluctant, but apparently, our entrance is already the top corporate gossip. Good job Mari-bear.”

“Good. Thanks, Chlo. Now get back to work before someone sees me get friendly with an intern. I have a plan.” Before they separated, Marigold let a smile ghost her face. “One more thing. You’re free to unleash the foxes of war.”

Chloe lit up at that. Her whole demeanor changed to almost beaming light. She immediately started planning. Mari left her to the devious scheming and instead went to McKinsley office. The head of the Legal Department was a middle-aged woman with short, slightly graying brown hair and no-nonsense composure.

“Miss Bourgeoise informed me of your visit. I already had several documents prepared, but I will need clarification on several things.” She offered the young PA a chair, but Mari refused with a shake of her head. She opened her tablet and started to go through the list.

“First of all, the video that caused the attack was leaked by an intern. What actions exactly can be undertaken in response?”

“There are several options. We could terminate their contract entirely, but as it’s their first offense, it could’ve been seen as too harsh. It would also require to terminate all internships.” The woman was clearly unamused by the situation. Mari just raised her eyebrow and gave her a quizzing look.

“I’m not sure who in their right mind wrote their contracts, but when I track them down they are gonna get their ass demoted to toilet cleaner. It’s one big mess.”

“Don’t I know it…” Mari deadpanned. “So, other options?”

“We can move them between departments, so having them demoted to Toilet cleaners could also work, but it’s not exactly a legal punishment. The fact that it was Riddler really threw a wrench in any legal proceeding as he is clinically insane and the video was not directly calling him out and only speaking about him. I could give you the legal mumbo-jumbo, but the gist is that they are somewhat protected.”

“What about revoking their privileges?”

“Take that to HR.” 

“Will do. Now, about the next matter.”

“It was much easier. She can’t do anything to you, not even forward the bill. You were in shock and there are several recordings showing her taunting you. If she pushes it, she will lose. You’re a public hero right now. Good job by the way.”

“I was only doing what had to be done.” Mari brushed it, doing her best to keep a professional face. 

“Sure…” It was clear that McKinsley did not believe her.

“Now about the last thing?”

“Ah. The slander. I already directed it to our French and Italian departments, but it’s slow-going. That witch made it an international case. It will definitely bite her, but we have to be patient.”

“Brilliant. Thank you for your time.” Mari left the room with a grin on her face. Now onto the HR.

As she strode through the floor, people turned their heads to look at her. In the killing outfit, she looked older than she was and the aura of confidence and professionalism made her seem like a powerful woman. They had no idea just how powerful she was, but the way she carried herself was enough to make them shake in their shoes. 

----

When the doors of the elevator opened, Juleka and Rose were waiting for her. Both looked furious. Before either got a chance to say anything though, Marigold silenced them with a murderous glare that took away their voice. She strode past them looking fabulous. Any other employee removed themselves from her path to avoid her ire. The rumors were already circulating and the fact that she took down Riddler before Batman even arrived did wonder to her image. 

“Hello. I had an appointment.” She said when she entered the head of the department office. 

“Yes. Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was told you forwarded a list of topics, but an intern lost it.”

“Was this intern from my class?” She asked in a cold voice.

“Um… Yes actually.” The woman said after checking a small post-it.

“Then it was probably sabotage.” Mari spat the words. “I asked to have a list of possible punishments in regards to the newest intern group prepared. Two of them were responsible for the leak. Sadly, as one of them is the class representative, she is quite popular.”

“Ah. Well…”

“First of all, both Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi are to have all possible privileges revoked for breaking the rules. They leaked or were involved in the leak of video. Neither of them is to be handed anything more important than refilling a stapler or bringing someone coffee, to ensure they are no further threat to this company. They will also receive an official warning and an entry to their acts. They are also restricted to the lower floors. If possible, I want their access to electronic devices restricted. Maybe assign them a pager each so it doesn’t negatively impact their work.”

“Hm… I will see what can be done, Ma’am.” The woman replied, already going through her notes.

“Good. Onto the next business, while it pains me to do it so fast, we need to hire more security as soon as possible. But make sure to triple check their backgrounds.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And the last thing. Why was Damian Wayne allowed to bring a ninjato into the building?”

“There is actually no restriction on bringing swords ma’am. We’re trying to fix it, but we’ve been blocked at every turn even when Mr. Wayne was the CEO.”

“And whose permission is needed?” Mari allowed a small grin.

“Yours would do. Sarah was always too stuck up to even leave her desk unless forced so she didn’t care that much.”

“Consider my permission granted. Forward the paperwork to me.”

“And if Mr. Drake disagrees?”

“He can try.” She said coldly, remembering how close she came to being cut in half.

“Oh…”

“Last thing. When is the top floor scheduled for repairs?”

“It should be done already. It was made to withstand an assault from a much larger force, so we only had to replace the furniture. Following the instructions that were left, we repotted the plants into bigger and more decorative pots. As per your request, we added some more plants.”

“Thank you. Plants always calm me down.”

“I prefer cat pictures.” She pointed at the wall where a cheesy calendar with a cat giving her thumbs-up was hanged. It took all of Marigold’s willpower not to burst into laugher at the image of Chat Noir posing for such a calendar.

“Good. Thank you.” With that, she left. This time, Rose and Juleka did not try anything. They were too terrified of her. 

Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

----

NEXT

[cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale]

Not Him~~Epilogue

MASTERLIST

Part 5

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Protective!Bucky, Dad!Tony, Takes place during Captain America: Civil Ware, Pregnant!Reader, labor, swearing, CANON DIVERGENCE!

Taglist: @chewymoustachio

A/N: Here’s the epilogue! Hope you guys have enjoyed this story. I know it’s taken a while for me to finish it, so big thanks to those who have been so patient and kind to me! Also (y/f/f) = your favorite flower

—Xoxo Courtney

6 Months Later

“Doll, where are you at?” Bucky calls as he walks into your little cottage. After coming to Wakanda T’Challa set the two of you up in a medium-sized cottage in the countryside. It was right outside the city so you could get there quickly if need be, Steve was close by in a different house that he shared with Wanda, Sam, and Nat. Clint and Scott had taken temporary plea deals so they could be with their families. T’Challa was working with all of them and your father to overturn the accords and yesterday the UN had met to officially repeal the accords. While there would still be an oversight committee to keep them in line it would be much less controlling and more of a compromise. Bucky had to attend the meeting yesterday as well because the UN issued him an official apology and cleared him of all the charges along with the Winter Soldier’s crimes.

Your father had been attempting to contact you for almost two months before you replied. You loved him and wanted him in your and your baby’s lives but you were having a hard time forgiving him. He had called you a terrorist’s whore, you knew he didn’t mean it, but that, along with the other things he said made it hard for you to forgive him. 

“In here Buck!” You reply from the living room. You had just woken up from your afternoon nap and were feeling much more energized. Baby Barnes had been making you extra tired lately, you were eight and a half months pregnant and you were beyond ready to deliver this baby. 

“Hey Doll, I got a surprise for you,” he says with a smile as he walks into the room. 

“Ooh, what is it?” You ask as you try and fail to stand up. Bucky chuckles a little at your pathetic attempt to stand before he grabs your hand and helps you up.

“Not my fault your baby is a giant Barnes,” you grumble once you’re up.

“Sorry Doll, you’re just so cute. I can’t help it,” he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as he wraps his arms around you.

“I’m a whale,” you mutter bitterly.

“No, you aren’t Doll, you’re gorgeous.”

“Where’s my surprise?” You ask changing the subject, you hadn’t expected Bucky to bring you back anything.

“It’s waiting for you outside, shall we?” He asks you motioning his hand towards the door. You nod excitedly, ready to find out whatever he had in store for you. 

“Alright then,” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and the two of you walk outside together.

As soon as you step onto the porch you see him, your father, he’s wearing one of his best suites and holding a bouquet of (y/f/f). You feel your breath catch, this was very unexpected. For the last couple of months, you had been talking to your dad, but it was very brief infrequent conversations. You were slowly building back your relationship and you hadn’t expected to see him so soon.

“Daddy?” You murmur breathlessly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replies bashfully, avoiding your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You ask shocked.

“I’m sorry, Bucky thought it would be a good idea. I knew you weren’t ready yet, I should go-”

“NO!” You shout, making him whip his head up to look into your eyes.

“I just mean, you don’t need to go. I just didn’t expect you to come all this way so soon. Why don’t we go inside and talk,” you suggest, looking up to Bucky who gives you a reassuring nod. 

“Alright, if you’re sure that is?” Your dad double checks and you nod and motion him inside. You guide him towards the sitting room and take a seat on the couch, Bucky sits beside you and places a comforting hand on your knee. Your father takes a seat in the chair that is angled towards the sofa and sets the flowers on the coffee table.

“I am so sorry for what I said to you angel. You are an amazing woman and I am so so lucky to be your dad, kiddo. I know it’s no excuse but I was in shock, it was a lot to take in and I lashed out at you. I’m sorry about that,” he says leaning over and taking your hands in his, he looks you directly in the eye when he apologizes. 

“I know, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, that wasn’t fair. I thought I was protecting you but I should’ve been honest with you,” you reply.

“You have nothing to be sorry for angel. You did what you thought was right and I should have listened to you. I hope you can forgive me one day.” You look over at Bucky who just gives you a small but supportive smile.

“I forgive you, dad. It may take some time for us to get back to how we were but I forgive you-ahhhh,” you hiss in pain. You feel a wet spot form around your crotch and a jolt of pain hits you. 

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Bucky asks slightly alarmed at your cry.

“Baby Barnes seems to be ready to make their appearance,” you reply.

“Oh boy, where do we take her?” Your dad asks standing up immediately. 

“We gotta get her into the city, to the healer’s bay. It’s about a ten-minute drive, our car is out in the garage, can you drive us?” Bucky asks helping you stand up, before running into your room and grabbing your hospital bag.

“Of course, c’mon.” Your dad answers walking with you out to the car and helping you get in while Bucky locks up the house.

Your dad eases you into the backseat before climbing into the driver’s seat, Bucky slides in beside you before giving your dad instructions to the healer’s bay.

When you arrive your main doctor greets you at the door and helps set you up in a private room, T’Challa had demanded nothing but the best for you. Bucky had called the other avengers most of whom were out in the waiting room with your father. The ones who weren’t were on their way to Wakanda to come meet your new baby. 

You knew Bucky was nervous but he was doing a great job of hiding it and supporting you through your labor. After about ten hours of labor, your precious little girl had arrived. As soon as both you and the baby were cleaned up, the doctors allowed all of the Avengers in to see both of you.

“How’s my girl?” Your dad asks walking over to you and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Your girls are good,” you reply with a smirk.

“It’s a girl?!” Wanda exclaims clapping her hands together excitedly. 

“Yes, everyone, meet Maria Rose Barnes,” you announce with a smile covering your face.

“Maria?” Your dad asks with tears in his eyes.

“Yeah, Maria,” Bucky says extending his hand to your father, who accepts the handshake with a small smile.

“Do you wanna hold her dad?” You ask and your father nods in reply. You hand Maria off to him and he carefully cradles her to his body.

“Hello Maria, I’m your grandpa Tony,” he greets her, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, she gets it from her mom,” Bucky says with a smirk.

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A/n: That’s the end! Thanks for reading everyone! 

Xoxo Courtney