#I tried to watch Suits after I finished White Collar because it was recommended but Suits is so bad

[beautifulscreaminglady]

I'm so ready for the White Collar renaissance. I had no one to talk to about it when I watched it the first time and I was reblogging gif sets from abandoned blogs.

[justmaybee]

The Phantom’s New Clothes

(Alternatively: ‘I Like Ya Fit, G!’)

A/N: Yes, the spam is gonna end in a dumb fic. No, I’m not confident in posting it. But honestly? I don’t think I’ll ever be when it comes to Fling Posse. So I’m doing it anyways! Because Gen looks like a whole prince, and if I don’t start somewhere I’ll never be able to write them!

Summary: Fling Posse photo shoot time! ~ ☆ and Dice has taken a special interest in Gentaro’s outfit for the day….

Of the many things required by divisions during battle season, one ‘checkpoint’—so to speak—is the creation of promotional materials. A Chuohku-designated event, ‘asked’ of the representative teams from each district.

This is Fling Posse’s second time representing Shibuya, so Gentaro is more or less acquainted with the roadmap ahead of them. And as a group member—and friend—of one Ramuda Amemura, he’s quite used to the mild discomfort of modeling clothes far outside his comfort zone.

Though it had at first been a point of contention in the group—due to some very polarized creative decisions—Gentaro has grown into his role, just a bit. He may never go so far as to call himself a ‘model,’ but he’s done much stranger tasks for the sake of his posse.

Thankfully, this shoot leans decidedly into Gentaro’s style of choice. Unlike Ramuda’s last artistic venture, which had involved a bright yellow top in an aquarium of all settings, this outfit could be described as almost tame in comparison.

The blouse is a loose and flowing white number, tucked into a similar style of black pants. A little tighter to his waist than he’d prefer, but the fabric is soft and stretches down to his ankle—for the most part—so it’ll do. The addition of some colored cords to secure an ash grey cape around his shoulders finishes the look, and Gentaro hums an appreciative note when Ramuda shows him the full look in a mirror.

Ramuda seemed pleased, smoothing out Gentaro’s cape and tucking stubborn hairs back into place before flashing him a grin and bouncing off to help Dice finish dressing.

It’s comfortable, fashionable, and well-suited to his tastes. Gentaro must say, it’s one of his favorite designs from Ramuda so far.

That being said—there’s…one small thing he could recommend be changed.

It doesn’t occur to him until the picture taking is about to begin.

———

“Ya think Ramuda will let me keep it?” Dice asks, impish grin flashing his canine. He pops the collar, striking small poses as the dressing room around them clears out. Gentaro humors him.

He takes his time, stepping forward from behind Dice, peering over his shoulder at their shared reflection. His hand comes to rest on his chin, scrutinizing the tropical pattern with a deliberate trail of the eyes. He continues until Dice’s gaze lowers, until his hands start fidgeting in front of him.

Gentaro finally breaks with a smile, resting his chin on Dice’s shoulder. He can feel the way Dice sags with relief.

“It’s very likely that he will,” Gentaro muses. “This outfit was made specifically for you, and I’m not sure anyone else would wear it willingly.”

Dice nods in a small repetitive motion, absentmindedly checking his reflection in the mirror. The moment he comes to recognize Gentaro’s backhanded confirmation is both visible and audible. His body jolting upright with a pitchy ‘hey!’ tossed back over his shoulder. Gentaro hides a smile behind his hand.

“Oh, Dice. There’s no need to be insecure,” He coos. “From what I’ve heard, sustainable fashion is on the rise! This set may have been a curtain at some point, but your confidence in it is very admirable.”

Dice has that tight-lipped smile on, the one that pushes his cheeks up and makes his squinty faux-glare even more endearing. It says, ‘I know I’m being made fun of,’ but he continues to endure it anyways. Because it makes Gentaro smile.

Still, he’s come a long way since the early days of Fling Posse, and he won’t take things lying down if he can help it. So he sneaks his hand behind him, aiming a light pinch to Gentaro’s side; his comeback of choice since learning of Gentaro’s…sensitivity.

Unlike those recent times, Gentaro quickly back steps, pulling his head off Dice’s shoulder to smother a gasp behind a well-timed fist. Dice blinks, hand still hovering behind him in the empty air where Gentaro once stood.

Then he spins around; the biggest, toothy grin on his face.

Gentaro can feel the butterflies slowly flutter to life in his stomach. His free arm moves subconsciously, to wrap around his front and hide his torso. The longer they hold eye contact, the more his face begins to burn.

And then the photographer can be heard, calling Dice for photos.

They stay in place, gazes locked for a moment longer; then Dice shoots him a wink and jogs off.

Gentaro breathes a shaky sigh, rubbing away the phantom touch.

———

So yes, while it was obvious the outfit had less layers than Gentaro was accustomed to, he hadn’t realized just how much thinner the layers he wore were.

Photo shoots don’t have a lot of downtime, in his experience. There’s always group shots, touch ups, individual shots. While it’s undoubtedly ‘Posse Time’—as Ramuda would put it—he doesn’t get more than a passing word to either of his group mates at any one time.

Which make the times he runs into Dice all the more memorable.

Slipping past one another in the hallway when it’s Gentaro’s turn for solo shots. Gentaro feels a distinct skittering of nails over his flank. It has him stumbling, tripping on his own feet. He can hear Dice laugh as he straightens up and continues walking.

Getting his hair touched up, making sure his pesky bangs stay out of his face. Dice comes to watch for a while, leaving Gentaro with a quick pinch either side of his waist. He jolts so hard, the hair on his left side falls out of place. He mumbles an apology to the poor stylist, eyeing Dice’s retreating smile in the mirror.

In a moment to himself, Gentaro tries to retuck his blouse, smooth out the uneven bunching of ruffles. He doesn’t notice when Dice slips behind him, when he grips onto Gentaro’s hips—too easily accessible through these pants—and squeezes. Gentaro yelps, drops to a crouch to dislodge the ticklish pulses. When he turns with narrowed-eyes, he finds himself alone.

Although Dice has been able to startle a reaction out of him several times today, calling these occurrences ‘uncommon’ would be nothing short of a lie. In his extended stay at Gentaro’s apartment, Dice has been very — thorough in his exploits of Gentaro’s unending sensitivity. One could say that once he got a reaction, he couldn’t will himself to stop.

Also a lie. Well, a half-truth to be more precise.

While it had been Dice’s curiosity and willingness to take a chance that led to the discovery, he didn’t act on his newfound information much at all. While a very physically affectionate lover, he would never go so far as to touch Gentaro in a way that caused discomfort or distress.

No, absolutely not. And so despite many implicit hints and invitations, Gentaro found himself having to get very explicit.

He didn’t dislike Dice’s teasing touch.

No, quite the opposite actually.

It was flustering to a degree Gentaro couldn’t imagine, but…Dice got the message.

He got it loud and clear, and now here they are.

In a game of cat and mouse; Gentaro’s eyes darting toward every movement, hands enveloping his torso at the slightest noise. The fabric on his skin is light, breathable, and silky to the touch; impossible to ignore. His stomach swoops nervously, broiling with anticipation—borderline excitement.

Oh, the monster he’s created.

———

After two hours of lights, cameras, make up, hair, and such; things are finally starting to wrap up.

Gentaro can see the end’s approach easily due to experience. It always comes in the form of Ramuda’s name. Called out by a weary photographer and followed in turn by their leader’s sing-song reply, skipping happily out of the dressing room and into the limelight.

Ramuda’s solo shots are always saved for the end. One must save the best for last, of course.

That being so, it would be a good idea to begin making preparations to leave.

Gentaro can feel the pinpricks in his legs as he slides them off the dressing room couch, uncurling from his seated position. He kicks out, pointing his toes in a stretch, arching his back and spine. The relief pushes a quiet sigh from his lips, leaves him sagging back into the cushions for a moment, suddenly drained.

Time spent in the presence of others can already be tiring, but the looming eyes of Chuohku make things far more intense. Gentaro can find peace in having his posse with him, but the sooner he can get these clothes folded, the sooner he gets his regular attire back—the sooner he’ll be home and out from under the Party’s prying gaze.

It takes Gentaro a few attempts to rise to his feet. His center of balance equals out as Dice makes his way into the room. The timing is very lucky, Gentaro gets barely a greeting out before his arm is in Dice’s hold. Before he’s swung around, in a blur of cobalt blue and floral print.

His back hits the wall with a dull thud. Not hard enough to hurt—Dice would never—but enough to have his breath catch in his throat. The way Dice leans into Gentaro’s personal space—hand still firmly gripped around his wrist, pinning it to the wall beside his head—makes getting air back a bit difficult.

“Hey Gen,” Dice breathes, a soft smile on his lips that completely contradicts the situation, and makes Gentaro melt all the more for it.

“Hello, Dice.” Gentaro’s hesitation is hardly noticeable.

“Whatcha up to?”

It’s so casual — the way Dice speaks, despite their position which has Gentaro’s brain buzzing like radio static. Strangely, it’s somewhat placating, in a way.

“Well — I’d intended on tidying up while Ramuda’s away…” Gentaro musters up a teasing smile, a lighthearted jab. “If you’re attempting to have me fold your clothes for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you right there—”

Dice laughs. The sound does strange things to Gentaro’s heartbeat. Difficult to miss while it thrums so vividly in his ears.

“No, not that.” Dice smiles. Gentaro can’t help but return it.

“But could I—uh—do one thing? Before you go?”

Gentaro can take a fairly good guess at what Dice is referring to.

He shuffles, wrist rotating the smallest bit in Dice’s hold. His grip is strong, warm, and noticeably firm. Dice hasn’t moved, not an inch from his close lean over Gentaro, but he’s suddenly all that Gentaro can see, smell, feel.

He’s trapped.

It’s invigorating.

Gentaro is somewhat proud of the light, careless hum he gets out. A flippant roll of the eyes before his gaze meets Dice’s.

“Oh fine, if you must.”

Dice laughs again. Gentaro feels that familiar swooping sensation.

“I’ve been dyin’ to do this all day.”

Despite the unaffected air Gentaro puts off, his body is already tensed up in wait. Free hand poised to the side, ready to fend off Dice’s experienced fingers. His waist, hips, stomach; they’re all compromised in this outfit, leaving him more vulnerable than even his home loungewear would allow. It’s anyone’s guess as to where Dice may strike.

Which makes it extra shocking when Dice suddenly drops Gentaro’s wrist. When he slips both hands, with a pre-planned speed, into the gaps of Gentaro’s billowing sleeves and under his outstretched arms.

Gentaro is able to clamp his lips together before Dice’s fingers make contact. It makes muffling his surprised shout marginally easier. The same can’t be said for his limbs.

Before he can even think about it, Dice has found his rhythm, spidering feather-light strokes beneath his arms. His fingertips are gentle, calloused, and so very effective in their unpredictable movements.

Gentaro’s shoulders lock up. He chokes back the bubbling wave of laughter, then clamps his arms down in attempted self-defense.

Immediately after, his spine snaps off the wall. Thrusting his torso flush against Dice, leaning in to cover him. He tosses his head back, a squeaky cry pathetically stifled as the feelings grow exponentially.

It takes all of Gentaro’s remaining brainpower to lessen the pressure of his arms against his sides, to bring his elbows a centimeter out from his waist. Because when he tries blocking Dice’s fingers—

Gentaro bites his lip against a particularly loud squeal; Dice using one finger on each hand to vibrate into the center of each hollow. Oh, please.

—when he tries to guard himself, he just pushes Dice’s fingers deeper.

“Mph! D-Dice!”

It’s debilitating. Dice rarely has access to his bare skin in most situations, but this may very well be a first for both of them. The skittering touch under his arms has Gentaro squirming, shaking. Every time his arms twitch down to stop it, he’s stuck muffling louder laughter at the added pressure he’s made for himself.

It’s all Gentaro can do to hold as still as possible; minimize the jerky, impulsive movements. But it’s so hard, and he’s quickly losing the battle with his volume as well.

What were once small, nondescript sounds are now squeaking—almost whining—noises. As Dice continues his careful track, sweeping soft fingers around and around and around each twitching hollow.

It takes Dice vocalizing aloud to get Gentaro to lift his head from the wall, blink one teary eye open and get a look at him.

Dice is smiling sweetly—no doubt a much nicer look than the hot flush and wobbly smile Gentaro’s trying to control—with his head tilted to the side. It leaves his neck and shoulder open, right at Gentaro’s head level.

He takes the invitation for what it is.

Gentaro quickly buries his face into the side of Dice’s neck. If he had the mind to think and the hindsight to see, he might have considered if this was well-meant aid or a well-sprung trap. It really depends how much credit Gentaro decides to give Dice. His scheming side is somewhat lacking.

Either way, it makes things much more manageable, and far less embarrassing when Dice’s fingertips turn to nails and Gentaro finally breaks, spilling surprised giggles into the other’s skin.

“Dihihice! What—whahat are you—ahahahaha! Wait! Th-that isn’t fahahahahahair!”

Dice had never kept his nails long before, not for so long as Gentaro has known him. He had no use for them, and it was much easier to keep clean with nails as short as can be. But he’s taken to growing them out, just a tad, for…special situations.

Situations where Gentaro is foolish, careless. Usually in the comfort of his own home, in clothes that make it too easy for Dice. To touch, caress. Warm hands over soft skin that finds another’s touch one part foreign to ten parts addictive.

Situations where the small scratch of a nail can amp the feeling of a tingle to a spark.

“Dihice, pl-plehease. I—aha! Oh no, oh pleheheHEHEHEASE!”

It’s so much easier to hide; in the warm, familiar grip of Dice’s embrace. Where he can smother his keening laughter and sudden gasps. No care in the world for his pink cheeks and ruffled hair, so embarrassingly genuine after the painstaking process of making him ‘modelesque.’

Where all he has to focus on is the rippling movement, scratching up and down the dips beneath his arms. A constant, offset graze on hypersensitive skin; gentle as can be but more than enough to drive Gentaro past the point of composure.

All too quickly, Gentaro feels his knees go weak. His back slips down the wall a fraction, hands gripping onto Dice reflexively.

Dice responds in kind, keeping him stable, then going the extra step forward. Literally.

He steps until there’s no space between them. Until Gentaro can be held up with no need for his own legs; just the cool, sturdy wall behind him and Dice’s chest against his own. He’s surrounded by Dice’s warmth, by his scent. It’s been only minutes, but Gentaro is panting for breath.

“Hey,” Dice mutters, softly, once Gentaro can focus on him. He tugs his hand free, chuckling along to the author’s stray giggle, before reaching up to cup his cheek. His thumb strokes habitually, eyes staring deep into Gentaro’s — searching. Always searching. Making sure he’s okay.

And he is. Better than okay. That’s not a lie, it can’t be, and the way Gentaro narrows his eyes, sends a challenging smirk Dice’s way — makes that abundantly clear. Dice drops his gaze, laughing to himself. Then he straightens up, thumbs the moisture from the side of Gentaro’s face.

“As I was saying…” Dice trails, locking eyes with Gentaro as he speaks. Watching the way they widen, lips pressing together, when his remaining hand flexes.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[thirsty-x1]

Too Much | Cho Seungyoun

Request:

can i request a smutty oneshot where the reader is ceo!seungyoun’s gf and after a couple days of him coming home late/not coming him at all because he’s overworking himself, she goes to his office herself (all dressed up 👀) to try and help him unwind/relax? basically him fucking his gf over a desk lmao, hope this is okay!

↬ Pairing: Seungyoun x fem!reader.

↬ Genre: Smut, bit of fluffy ending.

↬ Warnings: explicit language, dom!Seungyoun, dirty talking, slight degradation, semi-exhibitionism, oral sex (blowjob), very slight bondage, fingering, unprotected sex.

↬ Word Count: 3.8k.

↬ Song Recommendation: “Too Much” by Loco ft. Dean.

The sun coming down reflected on your windshield as you drove your car, turning right before seeing your destination come in sight. The building stood tall, somehow looking threatening and making you doubt whether you really were going to follow through your plan. It wasn’t a hurried decision considering that you had been trying to gather the courage to do it since quite a few weeks after noticing the pattern your boyfriend had started to create, but it was also your first time visiting him at work. Taking a deep breath, you parked the car, your fingers turning white as you held the steering wheel tightly, comforting you a bit before you got out.

A slight breeze sent shivers down your spine, the cold air impacting mainly on your exposed legs. Your eyes travelled down examining your outfit, wondering if it was fancy enough; as the CEO’s girlfriend, you couldn’t just show up in any clothes. The mid-thigh skirt wasn’t doing much to protect you against the weather, although it would have been much worse without the thin dark stockings underneath it. You ironed the white shirt with your fingers and fixed your coat while walking towards the entrance, the sound of your high heels resonating on the empty street.

Pushing through the heavy glass door, a man behind the welcoming desk smiled at you kindly but without saying a word, waiting for you to initiate the conversation, which was rather odd… wasn’t that supposed to work the other way? Without giving it much thought, you proceeded to ask in a low voice.

“Excuse me… I have come to meet the CEO, Cho Seungyoun.”

The man nodded, as if he expected it, and asked in a condescending tone: “Do you have an appointment?”

“Ah, no, but I–” He waited no time in interrupting you.

“Then I’m afraid you can’t see him now. If you call to this number,” he scribbled down in a card, handing it to you, the tactic being too obvious as you saw what was probably his name on it, “you can arrange a meeting.”

Smiling as sweetly as you could, you declined his offer. “I’m his girlfriend.”

You could see the blush on his face as his eyes opened wide, starting to stutter as he pointed out the way indicating which floor you had to go to, much more polite than at the beginning. It was fun to see the immediate change without even confirming whether it was true, the thought of the employee trembling at the fact making you wonder just how strict of a boss was Seungyoun.

Waiting for the elevator you could feel eyes on you, turning away whenever you tried to catch who they belonged to. As you heard a few people muttering, you noticed that other’s women outfits weren’t as sophisticated as you were, rather using full suits instead of skirts and blazers on top of their shirts. You started to feel slightly embarrassed, focusing on the numbers changing as the elevator went up, your hands quickly closing the long coat as a way to protect yourself from the gazes.

After what it seemed to take forever, you got to the floor, hurriedly getting out of the cramped space while examining the whole room to see if you could find your boyfriend’s office. Finally, you noticed a slouched figure behind one of the glass walls, a sudden relief washing over your body as you recognized Seungyoun working on his office, sitting behind his desk as he seemed to study the papers in front of him. Nodding to some of the workers you passed by, you opened the door, careful to not disturb him as you got in.

“Have you finally brought the right papers? Also, ask everyone to stop sending messages through the work chat, I can see them, and what are they all being so loud for? Who came? I haven’t authorized anyone to pass.” His tone was completely serious as he rearranged some of the papers on the desk, almost throwing one of the folders to you as he looked up to his screen to check something. “The numbers are wrong, ask the statistic office to check them at least once.”

It was hard to hold back your giggle. “Would be nice if you looked up every now and then, your employees will hate you otherwise.”

Right when you started the sentence, his eyes shoot up, a smile spreading on his face as he stood up and walked around the dark wood table to hug you.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would be at home…”

Pouting, you played with the collar of his shirt. “Well, you have been working way too much… and since it’s impossible to make you take one free day, I thought of coming here.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning to press a kiss against his sleep thankful that he was covering you from anyone spying.

“I know, it’s just that the deadline is close and everything must be perfect, plus we started a new deal with another business.” It was fun to see the contrast between his boss-self and the Seungyoun you were so familiar with, especially as he put a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I need to finish some work now, would you mind to wait for a bit? We can go have dinner to some fancy place afterwards.”

There wasn’t much you could do now and he was being too kind considering you came without prior notice too. You nodded, not without slapping his butt as he turned around to go back to his seat. While you heard the incessant typing, you walked around, staring at the multiple diplomas and degrees on the walls. On one of the shelves, there were all the awards that the agency had won next to pictures of Seungyoun with numerous renowned business men. It had been barely a year since you two had started dating, but by now you had noticed he wasn’t too keen on talking about his work, which was a bit surprising seeing just how big part of his life it had become. When you asked him about it, he simply said it was because he preferred to keep both separated and focus on relaxing while at home and you hadn’t pressed much on it.

After a few minutes, you took of your coat and sat down on the sofa, grabbing one of the magazines that was on the coffee table without paying much attention to it. Instead, you preferred to watch Seungyoun working: the way his hair was slicked back, his tie slightly loose since he pulled on it whenever he got stressed, the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled showing the shiny wrist watch that blinded you each time he angled it in a particular way and one of your favorite tattoos of him, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose sliding a bit and his hand quickly putting them back in place, how he nibbled on his bottom lip, the soft grunt he would let out when something in the screen wasn’t going the way he wanted… You knew he was having a hard time, but he was also looking extremely hot while doing it so, to the point where you couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Is that article so interesting?” His question interrupted your thoughts, causing you to blink a few times and he smirked. “You have been drooling for quite a while…”

You let out a breathy laugh and got up to walk next to him, hugging him from behind and resting your head on the crook of his neck. “Is there a lot left?”

He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “Almost done.”

“Hmm… You are pretty tense.” Your hands slid down his chest, barely grazing his belt. “Want me to help you relax a bit?”

Seungyoun sighed, grasping your wrist right before it got to his groin. “I’m at work, princess.”

“And?” You pressed your lips against his neck, lightly nibbling on the skin before licking a stripe, his head falling to a side to allow you reach more. “If I get under the desk, it should be fine, right? You deserve it, you have been working so hard…”

Before he could even form an answer, you took a peak outside the office only to notice almost everyone had gone by now and dropped to your knees, quickly undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, palming him over his underwear earning a groan from him. Maybe it was the rush of being caught what turned him on so much because in just a few minutes he was hard, his length twitching under the fabric.

“Don’t tease me, y/n.” His tone was commanding, eyes piercing as he looked down on you, the new side of him making you wet. “Be a good girl and suck me off, hm?”

Unable to form any kind of reply that didn’t expose just how much power his words had over your whole self, you decided to follow his order. Hooking your fingers on the tight band of his underwear, you pulled it down enough to free him, his head thrown back as you slid your tongue on his shaft covering it up with your saliva. With a wicked smile, you teased the tip of his cock, already tasting the precum forming on the tiny slit. His head rested on the back of your head, encouraging you to take him in your mouth, shutting his eyes closed as he felt your lips wrapping around his member.

Right as you were about to begin bobbing your head, the door of the office opened, the sound of steps getting closer to the desk stopping you dead on your tracks. You looked up, trying to get some kind of indication on what to do from your boyfriend but he was completely ignoring you, his gaze fixed on the person before him.

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Miss Lee?”

“Ah, yes, here are the files you asked for, Sir.” You could feel a hesitant tone on her voice and you wondered if she was the woman that Seungyoun was waiting for when you had entered his office earlier.

“Thank you.” Realizing that the woman hadn’t left, Seungyoun continued. “Anything else?”

“W-well, you see… Some of the other employees were going to have a drinking meet up to celebrate the stocks going up, a-and… I was wondering if you would like to c-come…” You rolled your eyes at the obvious excuse to flirt with him, but what annoyed you the most was how much time your boyfriend was taking to decline the offer so you could continue, so you engulfed more of his length into your mouth and heard his fist impact on the desk, scaring you and his secretary, apparently. “A-are you feeling well, Sir?”

“Yes, it’s nothing, sorry, thought there was… something…” His voice sounded strained, so you swirled your tongue and pressed lightly on the underside of his tip.

“I see… T-then, will you come with us to celebrate?”

Just as a reminder, you went all the way, holding back a gag when you felt him hit the back of your throat, causing him to clear his own. “No, I’m sorry, but I have plans with my girlfriend tonight.” Pleased with his answer, you were about to pull out until his hand forced you to stay in place.

“Oh… I will get going then. Have a good night, sir.”

As the door closed, you hurriedly tapped on his thigh and he put his hand away allowing you to pull his dick out of your mouth as you coughed violently, the air hitting your lungs all at once as you tried to dry the tears that had clouded your vision. While you tried to recover, Seungyoun put away all the things on his work station with the most calmed expression, taking his time until he finished and went back to look at you, his thumb wiping the corner of your lips.

“I warned you to not tease me, baby.” He fixed his clothes again before he leaned in and picked you up, placing you on his desk. “Guess I should have expected it seeing the outfit you are wearing. Were you the one to cause all that fuss in the office?” His hand slid up your leg, appreciating the smoothness of the stockings. “I can’t have you wrecking the whole place… or was that what you wanted?”

“N-no…”

His actions made it hard for you to focus on what he was saying, the previous situation had already turned you on beyond any expectation but now it was him acting all confident, teasing you on purpose.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you didn’t want my secretary to listen to those lewd noises you made while choking on my cock?” His fingers slipped under your skirt. “Or have my employees trying to get a sneak peak of your ass?” Seungyoun’s gaze burned, your cheeks hot as he analyzed each of your reactions, smirking at the gasp that left your lips when he cupped your core. “You are dripping wet, sweetheart…”

“Seungyoun, please…”

His fingers kept rubbing you, the friction not being enough, the two layers of fabric, your panties and the stockings, starting to become annoying as you held his hand in place.

“Tsk, no, you didn’t follow my order before, so you don’t get to do what you want.”

Within a second, he slapped your grip, undoing his tie and wrapping it around your wrists, tying them behind your back rather tightly. You could feel the blood burn under your skin, your muscles itching in anticipation and your heart beating faster as you noticed a few lights still on outside the office. What if there was anyone out there? What if you got caught in the act? How was Seungyoun going to explain that and would it have any negative consequences on his position? All the questions dissipated from your mind as you heard a loud ripping noise, looking down to find your boyfriend smiling playfully.

“You- You ripped my stockings?!” For a second, you forgot of the whole scenario, but he made sure to remind you who was in charge in a flash, his fingers making your underwear to a side and feeling up the slit of your pussy.

“They were in the way and this is most discrete than having you fully exposed on my desk, don’t you think?” Your muscles tightened at the suggestion and he raised an eyebrow. “You like that idea? Hmm, who would have thought that my darling could be such a slut…? Wanting to be exhibited…” One of his fingers entered you, Seungyoun purring on your ear as he felt you clenching around it. “What would everyone think? You looked so professional a few hours ago and now you are sprawled and whining for me on my desk.”

The feeling was overwhelming, his breath grazing your skin with each word he said, making you feel hot all over as you fought with the strains that prohibited you touching him. He kept fingering you at a slow pace, loving how you squirmed under his touch, trying to keep your sounds low in case anyone would hear, but when he suddenly inserted another finger, it was impossible to hold back the guttural moan you let out.

“Fuck, Seungyoun, I really can’t take it…”

“Hm? Weren’t you going to help me relax? Maybe you are not the good pet I thought you would be…” You could feel that he was going to pull back, so reuniting each bit of strength you had left, you surrounded him with your legs and pressed him against you.

“Please, please… Use me in any way you want but I beg you to fuck me, I just can’t wait anymore, I need you, Youn, please…” The last few words came out muffled with sobs, the need in your system growing bigger and bigger under his hungry stare.

“You are too much, babygirl, too much for anyone to handle…” His hands unbuttoned your shirt impatiently, sighing when his favorite lacy bra came into view. “Anyone but me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a rough kiss, groaning at his own taste on your mouth as he slipped his tongue in, swallowing all of your whimpers when he took out his cock and buried inside you in one strong thrust. Smoothly, he pushed your shoulders until you felt the cold wood through the thin fabric of your shirt, and Seungyoun would swear he could have come right then at the view: you, laying back on his desk with your hands tied up behind your back, your breasts bouncing each time he rammed into you, your skirt lifting up slightly to show your cunt taking him in with the panties aside and your ripped stockings, some of his precum smeared on the side of your face, your loud whimpers and the wet sound filling the room in evidence of the lustful act you two were doing. It was his biggest fantasy come true, but the real thing was so much better than what he had played on his mind over and over again.

Right as you felt the knot on your stomach tightening up, you saw a shadow cross the glass wall, fear invading you, but when you looked at Seungyoun, his smile was bigger than ever.

“Why are you so quiet now, doll? You suddenly feel shy? I’m their boss anyway.” His high pitched laugh didn’t match the aggressive pace he maintained while moving his hips. “Why don’t you let them hear who you belong to, hm? Who makes you feel this way? Who is in charge of pleasing you?”

You didn’t dare to reply with words, shaking your head multiple times while trying to make him stop somehow, although the way your body reacted to his voice was betraying your true desires.

“C’mon y/n, I know you love this… I can feel your dirty juices spilling, making a mess… Just admit it, baby, you love being fucked raw by me, completely at my mercy and being this vulnerable and exposed… so helpless…” He continued to shove his length into you, his hands holding your hips in place. “Can you let go of your inhibitions for me?”

Shyly, you opened your mouth. “I-It’s… too much…” Your whimper sent shivers down his spine, his cheeks blushing as he got closer to you.

“I know you can and want to take all of me in this pretty, tight hole of yours, my love, you just have to ask.” Seungyoun pressed a few kisses on the valley of your breasts, sucking on the skin and leaving marks. “Give yourself to me, y/n.”

Just like that, your whole body crumbled, your thighs shaking as your orgasm washed over you, your mouth letting out a mix of incoherencies along with your boyfriend’s name. A few thrusts later, Seungyoun came as well, the feeling of his sperm filling you making you complain from oversensitivity while he made sure to completely empty inside of you. He stayed like that for a while, holding you before peppering you with small kisses and praising against your skin just how good you had been for him, his hands quickly untying yours. When he got soft, he pulled out, hiding a giggle at the complete mess he had caused before looking for some wipes to clean you and himself a little.

When you composed yourself, you fixed your clothes, still feeling a bit uncomfortable with each movement you made since you could feel some of “Seungyoun” inside of you. Everything seemed to be in order, except for your ripped stockings for the which ones your boyfriend apologized under the promise of buying you even better ones, and while you were trying to comb your hair with your fingers, the criminal got closer, helping you put on your coat before hugging you.

“Do you feel more relaxed now?”

He laughed at your sarcastic question. “Yes, very.” Seungyoun pulled away, holding your face in his hands. “Thank you, really. Wasn’t quite expecting that ending but… It was amazing. You really are a good girl.”

Your whole face got red at the sudden compliment, slapping his arm before you grabbed your purse and got out of the office, still waiting for him outside of it. Carefully, you studied the surroundings, but no one seemed to be at the building, so maybe the shadow you had seen before was just a product of your imagination… or so you hoped.

As you got down on the elevator with Seungyoun tightly holding your hands and discussing where you should go to have dinner, you were greeted with an overall familiar face. The guy that had welcomed you earlier that day, and something told you that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t caused merely because of the incident during your presentation.

“Ah, Hangyul, you are still here?” Seungyoun’s tone was extremely casual, your eyes getting bigger as you realized that they must have been more than just co-workers. “Thought you would have gone out with Miss Lee to celebrate.”

The other man wouldn’t look at you in the eye and furtively avoiding your boyfriend’s stare. “Yeah, I just thought it would be more interesting to stay around here and… do some work…”

It was just for a fraction of a second, but you got to see the rampaging boner that the younger had, although he was desperately trying to cover it with his briefcase. Seungyoun must have noticed, because in a second he was standing in front of you, hiding you from his friend.

“I see. Was it interesting enough?” You suppose the other must have nodded due to the elder’s laugh. “Well done today, hope we can work together on some other opportunity. We will be leaving first, make sure to close properly and handle all unfinished business first hand.”

Immediately after you two left the building, Seungyoun exploded in laughter, making you feel even more embarrassed than before as you reprimanded him for making fun of the poor guy.

“That was too much, Youn! You crossed a line!”

His laughing fit started to calm, sliding an arm behind your back as you started walking to your car. “I was just imitating you, my love.”

The only sound that was heard was the echo of Seungyoun’s whine after you flicked his forehead. Despite his bad puns and silly attitude, he was still the man you had fallen for. A man that was “too much” for anyone, but not for you.

this has no business being so fucking long and I don’t know why I added Gyul at the ending but it just seemed fun and I want to cry so much because writing this made me incredibly horny bye

~Nani

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[440mxs-wife]

Song of the Heart

Pairing: Ketch x Reader

You adjusted your stockings under the slit that went halfway up your thigh on your midnight blue sequined gown. You stepped into your high-heeled shoes, fluffed your hair for the last time and checked your makeup. You were working undercover with Arthur Ketch at a nightclub with a 1940s theme. The two of you were on the trail of a siren, and had tracked it to the nightclub.

They were looking for a new singing act, so you auditioned and got the part. This allowed you to keep an eye on the club owner, Frank, and his VIP clients to see which one of them was the siren. Ketch acted as your manager, which gave him the opportunity to act as a second set of eyes. He also had full access backstage, so he could communicate freely with you. More importantly, he could keep an eye on you in case something went wrong.

You could hear the band warming up for the song you chose to sing tonight, Why Don't You Do Right?. It was a slow, kind of sexy song, just right for this crowd of high-class men. You knew it was cheesy that you had last heard it in the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit. But your singing would keep the customers' attention on you while Ketch investigated and tried to find the siren.

Ketch came backstage to check on you and make sure you were ready to go onstage. "Everything all right, my dear?" he asked.

"Yeah, oh sure, I'm ready, no problem," you tried to assure him and reassure yourself. "Who am I kidding, I can't do this. I've never performed in front of people before, let alone for something this important," you trembled. "What if I forget the words? What if they don't like my singing? What if I trip on my dress? Then what?" you rambled.

Ketch put his hands on your shoulders and looked directly in your eyes. "Darling, sweetheart, what you must remember above all, is don't panic. Besides, I know you're going to be wonderful. Just get out there and channel your inner sex goddess," he teased.

"Don't have one," you mumbled. You broke eye contact with Ketch and tried to calm the blushing in your face. You were excited to be working with the Brit, but also terrified that he would discover your secret crush on him. His blue-gray eyes held a twinkle that you found irresistible. You longed to run your fingers through his thick, dark hair and confirm for yourself if his lips were as tantalizing as you imagined. His accent only added to his sexiness and made you a bit weak in the knees.

"Nonsense, now don't miss your cue, Love. The band is warming up, the curtain is about to rise. Go take your place onstage. I'll be waiting for you, watching everything from back here," Ketch promised.

You took a deep breath, fluffed your hair again and adjusted your gown. You flashed Ketch a smile, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "For luck," you whispered. You walked out on the stage and took your mark. You turned to the band, who were finishing their warm-up for your number. "Ready, boys?" you drawled, getting into character. In reality, you were singing to a room full of drooling, high-powered and wealthy men. In your mind, your song was directed at one man in particular, Arthur Ketch.

You had plenty money 1922. You let other women make a fool of you. Why don't you do right, like some other men do?

Get out of here, Make me some money too.

You're sittin' down wondrin' what it's all about. If you ain't got no money they will, put you out. Why don't you do right, like some other men do?

Get out of here, Make me some money too.

You walked off the stage and approached a man with slicked back hair and a pencil-thin mustache. You placed your hand on his shoulder and got so close you could've kissed him. Before he could move in, you stepped out of his reach and sauntered over to your next candidate.

Now if you had prepared 20 years ago, You wouldn't be a wandering now from door to door. Why don't you do right, like some other men do?

You sashayed up to a man in a pinstriped suit, white tie and wavy brown hair. Clean-shaven, but piercing green eyes. You continued to sing, channeling your "inner sex goddess", as was recommended by Ketch. Your palm grazed the man's cheek, but you withdrew it before he could latch on to your hand.

Get out of here, Make me some money too.

Get out of here, Make me some money too.

Why don't you do right, like some other men do?

As the song came to a close, you resumed your position on stage, swaying your hips the entire way. You continued to sing, but didn't yet turn to face the crowd.

Your voice trailed off on the last note, looking at the crowd over your left shoulder. There was about ten seconds of silence, making you think they didn't appreciate your performance. Suddenly, everyone stood and the room erupted into thunderous applause and whistles. You winked at the crowd, gave a small curtsy and strolled off stage.

Once you were out of sight, you clutched your hand to your chest and searched frantically for Ketch. You couldn't believe that you'd gotten through your first performance and hadn't passed out from nerves.

You saw him talking to Lillian, the club owner's daughter. She wasn't too crazy about you taking her place as the featured entertainment two nights a week. Ketch's eyes caught yours and he smiled, then politely excused himself from his conversation with Lillian. As he walked away from her, she narrowed her eyes at you and gave you an ominous glare.

You felt a bit jealous that Lillian was trying to get her hooks into Ketch and that he was so damned polite about it. You silently reminded yourself that he wasn't yours, he wasn't attached to anyone. He could see whomever he wanted to, and if he chose Lillian, then you'd have to find a way to deal with it. You didn't notice Ketch had returned to your side until he placed his hand on your shoulder. "Darling, are you all right? How did it go?" he asked, concern on his face.

"It went fine, Arthur, thank you. No solid leads at the moment," you murmured. "I'll go change, then we can go back to the hotel," you said as you brushed past him on your way to the dressing room. He stared after you, wondering what had happened.

When Ketch was given this assignment, he wasn't sure at first if he wanted to take it. Once he heard he would be working with you, though, he changed his mind. Ketch noticed how your hazel eyes held a kind of softness when talking to witnesses, especially children. When researching a case, those same eyes were laser-focused on finding out what the team was up against.

He thought yours was an understated beauty, and didn't know why you always tried to downplay your allure. Your chestnut hair fell in waves just past your collar, and Ketch wondered if it was indeed as soft as it looked.

Ketch waited for you outside the bar while you changed back into your regular clothes. "Outstanding performance tonight, doll," Frank called out to you. "If you ever want to get up there more than twice a week, let me know," he offered.

You caught sight of Lillian's murderous gaze and slowly shook your head. "Thanks, but I don't think so, Frank," you responded. "I'll see you tomorrow night," you promised.

On the way out to the car, Ketch offered his arm, so you curled your hand around his elbow. He tucked it securely to his side and looked down into your eyes. He opened the car door and waited until you got situated before closing the door. On the way back to the hotel, he asked, "Is everything all right, darling?"

"Everything's fine, Arthur. Just a little tired. Tonight's performance took a little more out of me than I expected," you replied. "Think I'll go to my room and take a shower, wash off all this makeup," you murmured.

Ketch walked you to your hotel room door. This particular establishment was a little more luxurious than what you were used to with the Winchesters. That meant clean sheets, fluffy pillows and no questionable stains on the carpet or mystery odors.

At the door, you fumbled for your key card. You looked up at the ceiling in exasperation, then located the key card in your coat pocket. Before you could swipe the card to unlock the door, Ketch gently turned you around to face him. "I'm right next door, if you should need anything. Just knock on the adjoining door," he said as he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Tha-thank you, Arthur. I'll ring if I need anything. Goodnight, Arthur. Sweet dreams," you replied softly. You reached up to give him a peck on the cheek before quickly darting into your room.

"Goodnight, Love. See you in the morning," Ketch answered as you closed the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

True to your word, you took a shower and washed off all the makeup. You thought back to your performance and how it felt to be up on stage. Once you got into the music, it seemed to get easier to flirt with the customers. The ones you interacted with during the song didn't set off any alarm bells.

Lillian, however, was another story. You didn't know if you suspected her because she could possibly be who you were looking for. Or, if it was more than likely that you were jealous of her connection with Ketch.

You pulled back the blankets on the bed. Then you punched the pillow a few times to make it more comfortable before laying your head down. As your eyes drifted closed, you thought about how it would feel to have Arthur's arm around you as you slept. You smiled, remembering the music from tonight's performance as it lulled you to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Arthur answered the door in his pajama bottoms, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He was hoping it was you, but instead, Lillian was at his door. Tears were streaking down her face as she pleaded with him to let her in.

Once inside the door, Lillian threw herself into Ketch's arms. "I just don't know what to do, Arthur! My father won't listen to me about getting back up on stage. He's so enamored of that new girl, that he won't give me a chance," she pouted.

"Well, my dear, I am sorry to hear of your troubles with your father. How exactly may I help you?" Ketch asked as he stepped back out of her embrace.

Lillian walked her fingers up Ketch's chest. "Would you talk to him for me? Tell him that I should get a second chance to get back up on stage?" she pleaded.

Ketch nervously rubbed the back of his neck before answering. "I don't know. She is my client, you know. It would be a conflict of interest," he answered.

Her hands snaked up Ketch's bare chest and locked behind his head. "Please, Arthur. If you do this for me, I promise we will be together. You do find me attractive, don't you?" she asked.

"Of course, my dear," he answered. Silently he added that you were more his type than Lillian was. "What do you want me to say to your father to make him change his mind?"

Lillian pulled Ketch towards her and captured his lips with her own. "I think you should tell him that his new favorite performer has been found dead. And that for the good of the club, I will be taking her place. Then you and I can be together forever," Lillian replied.

Ketch stepped back and shook his head a bit. "Any particular way you want it to be done, my dear?" he asked.

She shook her head. "As long as it's done tonight, I don't care. I don't want details, just to know that she's out of the way," Lillian answered.

"Consider it done," Ketch promised.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You spent most of the afternoon rehearsing for tonight's performance. As you left your hotel room this morning, you saw Lillian leaving Ketch's room. Well, so much for that, you thought. You decided to perform Love, You Didn't Do Right By Me, as sung by Rosemary Clooney. You thought it was fitting, considering what you saw this morning. Yep, you were jealous, but that didn't necessarily mean that Lillian wasn't up to something.

On one of your rehearsal breaks, Ketch came over to see how you were doing. You hadn't had much to say to him all day, and he was concerned. You assured him that you were fine, that you were trying to concentrate on your song to turn in an unforgettable performance. He seemed satisfied with your answer, because he left you alone to rehearse and went to talk to Lillian.

After Ketch was out of sight, you pulled out your phone and called Dean. You shared your suspicions with him, and at first he thought you were just jealous. The more you pointed out the details, the more he thought there may be something to what you were saying.

"When do you go onstage tonight?" Dean asked.

"At 9:00 p.m. I'm hoping she makes her move before that, though," you responded.

"All right, kid, Sammy and I are on our way. Keep an eye on Ketch and Lillian until we get there. Over and out," Dean said then disconnected.

You walked back to the stage and found your mark again. "Can we please run through it one more time, boys? I think I've got it from here if we can just get one more go," you asked. The band members smiled at you and picked up their instruments.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You put the final touches on tonight's ensemble and checked your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a strapless black sequined gown, again with the slit halfway up your thigh. For jewelry, you had on long-hanging crystal earrings and a diamond choker adorned your neck. You kept your makeup simple. Your hair was piled high on the top of your head, with a few stray tendrils framing your face.

As you prepared to walk out on stage, Ketch took your hand and locked eyes with you. He leaned in to try and peck your cheek for luck, but you pulled your hand free from his. You gave him a small smile and walked out to your mark to wait for the curtain to go up.

Love, You Didn't Do Right By Me, by Rosemary Clooney

Love you didn't do right by me You planned a romance that just hadn't a chance and I'm through Love you didn't do right by me I'm back on the shelf and I'm blaming myself but it's you

My one love affair didn't get anywhere from the start To send me a Joe who had winter and snow in his heart wasn't smart. Love You didn't do right by me As they say in the song...you done me wrong Lillian came backstage to speak to Arthur to reinforce his mission to kill you. Little did either of them know, Sam and Dean had also sneaked backstage to wait for you.

My one love affair didn't get anywhere from the start To send me a Joe who had winter and snow in his heart wasn't smart. Oh Love, You didn't do right by me As they say in the song...you done me wrong Yes Mr. Love, you done me wrong.

As the last notes faded, you were treated to a repeat of last night's show of appreciation, standing ovation with whistles and thunderous applause. You saw Ketch talking to Lillian again, and she ultimately nudged him in your direction. When he was only a few steps from you, he reached behind him for his weapon and pointed it directly at you.

You held your hands in front of you and tried to reason with him. "Arthur, this is not real. You don't want to do this. If you pull the trigger, I will be dead, and it will be on your conscience," you explained.

Ketch's eyes were cold as he contemplated his next move. "I am well aware of the consequences of my actions, my dear. Lillian told me that the only way she and I can be together is if I eliminate you as the competition. I have to do this," he replied.

You lowered your hands as Ketch continued to point his weapon at you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Sam and Dean taking up positions to eliminate Lillian as the siren. Dean drew the brass dagger dipped in blood and poised to strike at Lillian.

"I understand, Arthur. You have to eliminate me to be with Lillian. If being with Lillian will make you happy, Arthur, then you have to do it. I care about your happiness so much that I won't stop you from shooting me," you finished, tears streaming down your face.

As Ketch brought the hammer back on his weapon, Dean drove the brass dagger into Lillian's side, killing her. Ketch blinked and shook his head to clear it. He suddenly realized that he had a gun pointed at you, ready to fire. He returned his weapon to safe mode and put it in his back waistband. He took two hesitant steps towards you and reached out a shaking hand. "I'm so sorry, Love," Ketch whispered. "I'm not under her spell anymore. Please forgive me," he begged.

"It's all right, Arthur," you held up your hands but taking a step backwards. "Let's all just go home," you suggested. Dean put his arm around you and led you to the Impala. Sam moved towards Ketch to ride back with him to the bunker.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean put one of his cassettes in, but kept the volume low so he could have a conversation with you. "Everything all right?" he asked.

You stared out the window, your chin resting in your hand and your elbow on the door. "I'm fine, Dean," you sighed.

"Are you sure? I mean, you just stared down a man under the spell of a siren, who was holding a gun on you. Aren't you even the least bit freaked out? Not to mention the crush you have on Ketch, only to see another woman coming out of his hotel room," Dean remarked.

You turned to Dean and looked at him like he had sprouted another head. "You really know how to summarize a situation, don't you, Dean? Besides, who said I had a crush on Arthur Ketch?" you grumbled.

"No one. But you do. Don't you," Dean replied quietly.

"So what if I do? It's not like he returns the feelings, Dean," you retorted. "He has his pick of any woman on this Earth. Women who are smarter, more beautiful and way more sophisticated than I could ever be. Why in the world would he EVER pick me," you muttered.

"But--" Dean started.

"No. Just drop it, okay? Please? The answer you're looking for is, 'he wouldn't pick me'," you answered, turning back towards the window.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Ketch, are you all right?" Sam asked.

"Of course, Sam. Why wouldn't I be?" Ketch shot back.

"You were just under the spell of a siren. You were pointing a weapon at a friend, and she actually told you to pull the trigger. Aren't you even the least bit freaked out?" Sam wondered.

Ketch thought for a few minutes. "Yes, Sam. I am a bit 'freaked out' as you say, but not for the reasons you may think," he replied.

Sam considered Ketch's comments. "You love her, don't you?" Sam grinned.

Ketch couldn't help but smile. "Something like that, perhaps. But after what just happened, I doubt I have any kind of chance with her," he lamented.

"Oh, I dunno. She's not the type of woman to hold a grudge," Sam mentioned.

"I suppose you're right. She strives to see the best in people, no matter who. She believes in second chances and routinely puts other people's needs before her own. She's a compassionate, intelligent, witty and beautiful woman. And she sings like an angel," Ketch added as he parked his car in the bunker garage.

When Sam and Ketch got out of their car, they noticed Dean leaning up against the Impala, waiting for them. "Where is she, Dean?" Ketch asked.

"She's out back of the bunker," Dean answered. As Ketch walked past him, Dean grabbed Ketch's arm. "Go easy on her," he remarked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You stared at the night sky, mesmerized by the limitless display of stars. You felt another presence, and turned to see Arthur Ketch approaching on your left. He slowly walked over to you and when he reached your side, he turned his gaze upwards.

"Hello, Arthur," you said quietly.

"Hello, Darling," he responded.

"I believe I owe you an apology," you started.

Ketch looked at you in shock. "What on earth do you have to apologize for??" he asked.

"For how I reacted towards you after the siren's spell was broken. I know that wasn't you, and when you tried to assure me of that, I backed off," you explained. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I want you to know there's nothing to forgive about what happened at the club."

"Thank you, Love. I can never repay your kindness," Ketch murmured.

The two of you contemplated the cosmos for a little while longer before Ketch put his arms around you from behind. "Sam and I had an interesting conversation on the way here," he remarked.

"Oh? What was the topic?" you asked nervously.

Ketch turned you around in his arms so he could look into your eyes. "You were, darling. We were talking about you," he answered.

"Oh. I see. And what exactly was said about me?" you wondered.

"I told Sam about all the things I love about you. Like how you believe in second chances. That you strive to see the best in people. And how you sing like an angel," he grinned.

"Well, I might have had a similar conversation with Dean on the way home as well. Talking a little about you," you hastily added.

"Really? And what did you say about me?" he asked.

"Dean figured out that I have a crush on you. I confirmed it, but I also told him that I was pretty sure that you didn't return my feelings. I said that you had your pick of any woman in this world, women much more beautiful and more sophisticated than me. Makes me wonder why you would bother with someone like me," you finished quietly.

Ketch reached up and cupped your cheek with his left hand. "Love, I don't want to be with just any woman. I want to be with you," he responded. He dove in and meshed his lips with yours in a kiss that started as a glowing ember and built into a raging bonfire.

Your hands slid up his chest and locked behind his neck. "Arthur...." you whispered.

"Oh, Darling," Ketch whispered back. His hands roamed up and down your back as his lips left yours to dance across your neck. You gasped when his mouth found that sweet spot and lingered for a bit. "I have a bit of a confession. Remember that first night at the club, when you were getting ready to go on stage?" he started. You nodded. "The moment you opened your mouth and that first note came out, I knew I was gone. I was in love with you," he finished.

"As long as we're confessing, I should mention something as well. That same night, I wasn't singing to the crowd....I was singing to you. All those moves I showed those two guys in the audience, you know, channeling my 'inner sex goddess'?" you chuckled softly. Ketch grinned and nodded. "I wished it was you instead. I love you, Arthur," you whispered.

[queencatherynerhys]

Stuck With You - Chapter 1

Summary: Neal Caffrey had met his fair share of interesting women over the years. Once or twice he thought he had known what love meant. But he learned what being in love was like when he met her. Now he must face a future without her. How will he survive?

A/N: I know I haven’t been non-existent in Tumblr world and TRR fandom. I’ve been working on this story for a while. I was looking through fanfiction stories and realized there’s never really been a Neal/Female OC angst story that caught my eye. I just don’t know why, so I decided to write one of my own.

The character’s voices might be a little different than you’ve come to know if you’ve watched the amazing show. If not, I highly recommend it. White Collar is one to binge through these uncertain times we live in. I’ve rewatched it several times now.

I apologize for any errors. I feel like I didn’t capture it very well. But please leave a like or better yet a comment if you like it and I will post the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Characters mostly belong to Jeff Eastin. OCs and the plot concept are mine.

Tags: @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig @writtenbycandy @ranishajay @heatherfilliez @drakelover78 @indiacater @pens-girl-87 @katurrade @speedyoperarascalparty @greyeyedsmile14 @barbaravalentino @zilch3 @mynameiskaylabella @darley1101 @blznbaby @trashbagfullofflannels @bella-ca @highlyselectiveextrovert @kacie-0156​ *I just used my usual tag list. Let me know if you want to be taken off if you don’t want to receive notifications about this story. Also let me know if you want to be added.*

Four days earlier...

Earlier in the week, the FBI caught wind of an unidentified man that came into the city in the hopes of selling a stolen Rembrandt painting in New York. It sparked their attention because the particular piece hadn't been seen or heard for at least two decades. The storm on the Sea of Galilee went missing in 1990 and now it has resurfaced.

Peter and Neal followed the trail of clues and they managed to set up an appointment with their mystery man in Gramercy Park. As per protocol, the FBI staked out and waited for their man to show up from the confines of a worn utility truck parked two blocks away from the meeting site. Peter, Neal, Jones, and Diana all took a screen of their own and watched for anyone suspicious to show up.

"There," Neal pointed on his screen as an anonymous man sat down on one of the benches. He was a young man in his late 20s to early 30s with brown hair, but what caught Neal's eye was his demeanor. His knee was bouncing up and down, his fingers were fidgeting, and his eyes kept glancing and looking around nervously. This man was no art thief. He was just a young man. He looked at Peter to tell him, but from the looks of it he already knew what he was going to say.

"Guys, I don't think this guy is our man. Just look at him. He doesn't even come close to the profile of an art thief. I don't think this guy can steal a candy bar from a gas station. I think we are looking for another guy. This guy is just a middleman," Peter told his team.

"I agree, boss, so what's the plan?" Diana asked.

"We send Neal in to find out what he wants, and go from there," he answered. He watched as Neal stood up, fixed his tie and suit, and flashed his signature, smug smile before exiting the van.

Neal confidently walked towards the bench the man was sitting on, but before he could even come near him the young man glanced at him, ducked his head, and appeared as if he whispered something to an earpiece. Guess that confirms the theory of this guy being just a patsy, but now Neal knew he'd been made. Without showing realization, Neal kept walking acting as if he was just taking a stroll through the park.

He made a big loop back towards the van and informed the others when he got there that the still unidentified knew who Neal was and he informed his partner, or employer, of him through the use of an earpiece.

"By the looks of it, he knew who I was. I don't think this plan is much of a plan anymore, Peter," Neal said.

Peter had his thinking, planning face on. Then, a brief look of hesitation flashed on his face. No one else would have caught it but Neal was a master at detecting facial expressions, subtle or otherwise. He saw it. When Peter turned to him, he saw it in his eyes. He beckoned him to talk outside the van so he followed.

"What's up, Peter?" Neal inquired.

"I was thinking. This guy came to New York out of the blue to sell a valuable, stolen painting. What does that tell us? He's desperate to get the piece out of his hand, so he needs to find a buyer fast. What if we put a middle man on the table?" Peter explained.

"A fencer?" Neal questioned although he knew it was the right answer. "Where are we going to find someone good enough to act as an art fencer? Diana? She's good, but I have a hunch this guy is going to need someone more well-versed in the world of fine art. I would suggest Mozzie but he's been...occupied...since the Cape Verde fiasco. So who else is there?" Neal explained.

Peter looked at him with a look of hesitation with just a dash of regret. It dawns on Neal why he was looking at him that way.

"Oh, no. No. No, Peter, No. You are not bringing her into this," Neal began to object to his friend's idea.

"Neal, listen, she's the only chance we have of catching this guy. With her background in situations like this, who could be more perfect?" Peter tried to persuade. Neal was still not convince. He did not like this at all. Not one bit. Peter had one more card to play to try and get Ryne to do it.

"Well, how about we ask her opinion on it?" Peter slowly asked. He had come to know the young woman well in the year and a half she's been in Neal's life. He knew if anyone could change Neal's mind, it's her.

Neal had always been the romantic. Peter had seen him fall too easily and get heartbroken and dealt with loss no one should ever have to go through. He truly thinks that Neal loved them in his own way, but not the way he loves Ryne. Of all the women he's seen come and go, Kate, Alex, Sara, even Rebecca, in his friends life she's the only woman he was the most protective about. He could admit that seeing his friend care about someone the way he cared about Ryne gave him hope that Neal could have what he has with Elizabeth. A home, a family, love, happiness, contentment on where he is and what he has.

"Fine. Come by the apartment later," Neal gave in and walked away but not back to the van.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked him.

Neal turned around and a flashed a bright smile, "To make my case before you show up." He arrived at June's house and as he does everyday since he moved in he went to say hello to his beautiful, kind landlord before making his way upstairs. He looked everywhere on the lower floors for her, but he figured she currently wasn't home so he headed upstairs to his apartment.

The rich tones of a lively piano music being played gradually became louder as he ascended the narrow stairwell. A grin began to form on his face as he remembered the animated conversation they had about bringing getting a piano to his apartment.

"Come on, babe. It's all I'm asking. Everything else in the apartment is yours. I just want one thing that's for me. My own mark on Neal Caffrey's perfect apartment," she said in almost whiny, but endearing voice.

"Ryne, I just don't see the practicality of having a piano in here. Do you know how hard it will be to get it up here? And where would we put it?" Neal reasoned while tying his tie in front of the tall mirror beside their bed . He turned around to face her after he finished fixing himself.

She sashayed toward him slowly, enticingly, until coming to a stop in front of him to fix the lapels of his designer jacket.

"There's plenty of room in front of the bed," she suggested, almost pouted, and looked at his blue eyes with her big, hazel one pleadingly. The only thing missing was batting eyes, but she was not a little girl begging for candy. She's was a sophisticated woman who knew that the man in front of her would give her the world if she asked for it. He couldn't resist her, and she knew it.

"Ugh, fine, you can have a piano in here," he gave in and laughed when she jumped for joy at getting what she wanted. "The great Neal Caffrey tamed by big eyes and pouty lips. What have I become?" He looked down and shook his head with feign disappointment.

She lifted his face by the chin and flashed the brightest of smiles before she closed in and gave him a passionate kiss. One of his hands held the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist to bring her closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his brown locks.

Had he no plans of meeting Peter, he would have gladly had his way with her on the apartment they now shared. Funny, even though Sara lived in his apartment for a brief time he never considered them sharing his home. It was always his, and Sara was there conveniently due to circumstances at the time they were dating. That's not the case with Ryne. She's different. He wanted to share everything with her, to be with her, to spend every waking minute of his life in the comfort of her arms. It was at that moment he realized he wanted to be hers forever.

Neal Caffrey was smitten with her. He knew he had never felt like this with anyone before. Sara had been close to capturing his heart, but she demanded a life he couldn't give her. With all the women that came to his life, she's the only one that didn't want anything from him. She didn't demand him to change, to be less the conman and more the honest-living-type-of guy. She encouraged and loved that he needed to live an almost free-spirited life. She simply loved him, Neal Caffrey, and all his facets, no more and no less.

"I love you, Ryne Beneventi, more than anything in this world, more than the finest art or jewelry. If you would have me, I want to be yours forever," Neal proclaimed as he pulled away from the kiss and looked deeply into her eyes. He held her closer to him. Neal had never in his life said those three words to anyone but her.

Kate knew he loved her, but he never said the words aloud. It was always implied, assumed. Alex was a spontaneous relationship. They had something, but not enough for those words. With Sara, he came close. He realized he fancied the "domestic" life with her. He cared for her perhaps a bit more than the others. He even proposed to her as part of a job they were doing. Rebecca, she, was a different case. A loose canon not worth mentioning.

But Ryne, she was the light in the darkness. She was his compass when he felt torn on which direction he should go. She was the breath he needed to live.

"I love you, Neal Caffrey. And I am yours as much as you are mine. Forever," she replied with a bright smile as she caressed his cheek softly with a warm, soft hand. He leaned to her touch and kissed the back of her palm before pulling away.

He would have loved to have stayed with her the whole day, but almost in cue his phone began to ring. His leash beckoned.

In the present, Neal shook the memory away and proceeded up the flight of stairs towards their apartment. He opened the door quietly as to not disturb her. He leaned by the doorway mesmerized by the picture painted in front of him with Ryne lost in her world of music simultaneously filling him with joy and contentment he never knew he could feel.

[justsomebucky]

The Three Date Minimum - 2

Summary: Reader is the last single person at her office, and while she puts on a good front, she’s lonely. Will dating apps find true love, or will she swear off romance for good?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,377

Warnings: language, drinking, minor angst?, fluff…this is fluff.

A/N: Please enjoy this chapter. Have some bartender!Bucky.  Also - please note that I tried everything to fix this stupid spacing issue. I would recommend reading on a normal browser or your mobile browser (or Ao3) and not in the app.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be in that neighborhood, can you believe it? The bus was late and I had to make sure my daughter got to school okay so I just drove her myself. So anyway, there I was just minding my own business, and out of nowhere I see –”

DING!

“I’m so sorry,” you said, offering a forced smile to the guy across the table. “I think our time is up.”

Your current speed date, Scott Lang, looked genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t finish his story about the time he met some famous somebody-or-other.

“Definitely rating this date as my best of the night, so far,” Scott said as he stood, reaching for your hand to give it a peck. “It was great to meet you, Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you, too.” You tried to force a smile to your face for his sake. “Take care, Scott.”

He flashed another boyish grin and gave you a wave before awkwardly wandering over to his next date’s table.  

Well, now you felt awful. It wasn’t that he was a bad or boring guy, it’s just…there wasn’t any spark. Maybe that was stupid, but it was how you felt. And while you believed him when he said his daughter was an angel, you weren’t ready to be a step-mom.

Anyway, first speed-dating experience wasn’t all that great, just as you had predicted.

Your dates so far were a lawyer who seemed suspiciously interested in your driving record, a dentist who tried to get you to show him your teeth and then commented that he could see the plaque from across the table, a guy who had just moved to New York following some time spent in jail for insider trading ('white collar crimes barely count' according to him), someone who couldn’t stop talking about his mother, and now Scott Lang, nice guy extraordinaire. To be fair, Scott was the best of the bunch.

Meanwhile, Natasha looked like she was having the time of her life. She had so many free drinks and more than once you saw guys arguing when their time was up and they didn’t want to leave her table.

Wearily, you glanced at the clock on the wall. There was still another forty-five minutes to go.

For a bar called The 107th in the middle of Brooklyn, you would have thought the experience would be a little more interesting. It was new place, supposedly trendy, and had a confusing name (it wasn’t on 107th street??), but to you it seemed like a normal local bar.

And even after your last semi-decent date, the thought of going through yet another three-minute introduction with someone new made you anxious. Before the next guy could get to your table, you gathered your coat and bag and ripped off your name tag, making your way over to the bar.

---

“What’re you having?”

You eyed the bartender, not bothering to reply just yet since you were mid-sip. He must have just started his shift, because when you first arrived there was a tiny woman with mermaid hair tending to customers.

The alcohol was just a band-aid for the situation, really. You never used it as a crutch, but some situations called for a little backup. It was liquid courage for some, and a little liquid tolerance for you.

When you put the now-empty glass back down, you pushed it toward him like you were in some kind of cowboy movie. “Rum and coke.”

He gave a nod and turned away to refill your drink, looking a little bored with your choice.

You let your eyes flicker up to the mirror above the shelves and shelves of liquor. Behind you, the speed-dating was just wrapping up with the final round. The results would be handed out soon; you hoped Scott Lang had found someone better suited for him.

As for you? Most of your time had been spent at the bar and Natasha hadn’t even noticed.

“I heard a rumor that dating used to be an organic thing,” the bartender mused, breaking you out of your reverie. He set your new drink in front of you. “You know, meeting someone, feeling a spark, going on a first date…”

You shook your head. “That’s not how it works anymore. It’s the digital era of dating. Now you’ve got to have a pristine profile complete with model-level selfies to gain anyone’s attention, or come to shit like this in a basic bar and hope someone finds you tolerable.”

He didn’t seem offended by your little insult. “You’re a part of that group, right? So why are you sitting over here instead of talking to your last date?”

Your brows furrowed a little. “You ask a lot of questions for a bartender. Is that normal?”

He gave you an amused look. “Just curious. These events cost money, right?”

“They do,” you confirmed. “But the only reason I’m here is because my roommate paid. She caught me watching TV in my pajamas on a Friday night again and she wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to go.”

“Nice. So which one is she?” The bartender leaned over, arms resting on the bar top as his eyes scanned the crowd.

There was no point in hiding her. He would have spotted her eventually, anyways.

You reluctantly spun on your barstool and found her almost immediately. Her megawatt smile lit up the room; how could anyone possibly miss her in a crowd?

“There,” you said, pointing. “Natasha, the beautiful redhead standing over in that corner.” You glanced back at him to see him squinting that direction.

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to instantly drool over her like everyone else tends to. That confused you, since he wasn’t unfortunate-looking himself.He would definitely be her type.

“So if she’s your friend and she brought you here to help you, why has she not noticed you over here drinking all alone?”

The barstool squeaked as you turned back around. “Because this is what happens.”

He stared at you blankly.

“She gets the attention,” you explained, taking another sip. “I get the hangover.”

Your nosy bartender didn’t look convinced. “How do you figure that? Didn’t you just have a few speed dates?”

“Yes, but they’re in rotation, they had to come to my table. She literally had guys fighting to have more than three minutes with her.”

He made a face but didn’t say anything, so you continued.

“And I know because it’s happened always. Every friend I’ve ever had has been more enticing than me, from high school all the way through college, where my roommate then was also a bombshell who turned heads everywhere she went. I’m so used to being invisible that it’s second nature.”

“Well…I’d say your name in a scolding tone, but you ripped your name tag off already.” He shifted on his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. “It sounds to me like you’re making excuses to protect yourself. When is the last time you put in any effort? Do you just brush everyone off? Do you even try?”

“Try?”

“Let yourself be open to the possibilities?”

The possibilities? What the hell was with this guy? Was he some kind of failed psych major? It took all your strength not to splash your drink in his face and leave. He was lucky you were trying to be nice.

You could feel your blood pressure rise. “First of all, whatever your name is, I don’t think you know me well enough to sit behind your bar counter and judge me!”

The corner of his mouth lifted a little in amusement. And no, he was most definitely not more attractive in that moment. Absolutely not.

“Name’s James, but my friends call me Bucky.” His head tilted a little and you saw that his eyes were a cool blue-grey color, with just a little obnoxious twinkle in them. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, do you try?” He had that stupid, infuriating little hint of a smile again. God, it was amazing that this place was still in business with an obnoxious guy like him at the bar.

“Yes, I try. I just sat through five three-minute dates, for fuck’s sake. I just…I’m not meant for anything like that.”

“You know when I said try, I didn’t mean actively push people away.” Both eyebrows raised as he assessed you again. “Because I think that’s exactly what you’re doing, even with me right now.”

The door opened then, and a huge crowd of women donning matching pink shirts walked in giggling with a girl wearing a sash that said Bride. That was your cue to get the hell out of that bar.

You downed the rest of your drink quickly, offering him a small fake smile as you set the glass down. “Yes, well…I think I’m going to swipe left on this conversation. It’s been…enlightening, James.” You reached into your bag to pull out some money, but the bartender waved his hands.

“Call me Bucky. And it’s on the house. You seem like you needed it.” With a nod and wink, he turned away again to make the million shots a newly-arrived bachelorette party wanted.

As if you would ever accept something for free from someone with that attitude…

“Thanks anyway, James,” you muttered. Without a glance back to him, you set the money on the bar and stood up, determined to either pull Natasha away or leave her there.

---

“One date down, two to go.” You stretched your legs out under the table and leaned back. Wanda wanted to hear all about the event the night before, so the two of you went to a nearby café for a quick lunch.

Wanda eyed you over her coffee cup. “That only counted as one date?”

“Apparently,” you muttered, picking at your scone. “Natasha’s rules.”

She leaned forward. “Got any ideas for the next two?”

“No, not unless you know someone?”

“There are lots of someones on dating apps, Y/N.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. “Wan, not now.”

“Come on,” she chided, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “If you give some of the apps a try, I’ll…I’ll do your donation calls for a week.”

That had you interested. Not only could you potentially be left alone for a month, but have less work to do. “Two weeks, one for each remaining date.”

Wanda held out her hand and you shook it.

She had the nerve to look genuinely excited, that absolute witch. “First I think we’ll try Tinder. My neighbor’s husband’s sister met the love of her life…”

You sighed as you tuned her out, trying to enjoy your last moments of Tinder-free life.

---

After lunch, Wanda came over and teamed up with Natasha to harass you until you agreed to download the dating apps.They helped set up your account, even forced you to take about fifty pictures before they were satisfied with your profile.

“Wait, what do I do?” You glared down at the offending app on your phone, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach.

Natasha flopped down on the couch next to you. “When you see a profile of someone you’re interested in, you swipe right. If they swiped right on you too, it’ll tell you that you’ve made a match.”

“What’s the blue star thing for?”

“A super like!” Wanda’s eyes lit up. “I wonder if you will find any of those!”

Unlikely.

“So, in theory, I could like all these people and they could loathe me and I would never know?” That didn’t sound so bad. It was like less hurtful window shopping.

“Sometimes you’ll get the occasional douchebag and you’ll have to put up with bad messages, but yes, that’s generally how that works.”

You played around on the app in silence for about five minutes, going through and swiping left on most of the profiles you read.

“What was wrong with that last one?” Wanda asked, frowning at you. “He seemed cute? He had a kayak and a puppy! You love puppies.”

The last one she was talking about was also wearing a shirt that said Federal Boob Investigator, but leave it to the romantic to not notice that.

“Just wasn’t feeling it.”

Natasha scoffed. “Are you gonna swipe right on anyone?”

You gave her a look. “Maybe.”

Before you could react, Nat grabbed your phone from your hand and started swiping right on almost everyone with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Stop it! You’ll make me look desperate,” you screeched, trying to grab the phone back.

She let out a gasp, then turned the phone to you. “Y/N! Look at this guy. Look at him! His name is Wade and he is perfect!”

He was handsome enough, but his profile was pretty weird. “No, Natasha. He probably thinks he’s hilarious and has deep-rooted abandonment issues or something.”

“Exactly. You need someone different and exciting like that. We’re getting you out of your comfort zone, remember?”

You watched in horror as she swiped right.

Then, that wicked gleam in her eye got even brighter as she showed the screen again.

“It’s a match!”

“Natashaaaa….”

“Oh shit, he messaged you already!”

“He did?” You snatched the phone back, crawling over her to get away. You didn’t want to admit it, but your stomach was in knots. “Oh my god, he did!”

“What’s it say?” Wanda leaned over. “Read it!”

“He wants to see me tomorrow.”

You read the message over and over. A handsome guy, who most definitely probably definitely had some issues but also seemed cute and funny, wanted to see you.

God, you hoped you didn’t regret this.

When you glanced back up, they were both staring at you. Something about this whole situation seemed too good to be true. There was no way in hell that anything would last.

Logically, if you went into it thinking it was just a one-time date with a hot guy, there wouldn’t be a problem, right?

“Well?”

“Are you gonna reply?”

And if there weren’t feelings involved, you could stand to have a little fun.

You grinned at them. “Of course. I have two bets to win now, don’t I?”

---

Part 3

Masterlist

 no taglist

[hushman]

First encounters

After posting my headcanons for @honestlyprettychill  Altean Bodyguard au Seeing that you guys enjoyed it and reading @rueitae story as well @pidge-suggestions two stories really warmed my heart. In fact, it inspired me to do my take on the first meeting between Lance and Pidge as well. It’s in line with what was established in @rueitae story(because It was awesome) but is done from Lance’s perspective mostly, with a few additional scenes thrown. I do recommend you read that one as well the get the full scope of the events.

“Poisoned?!” Samuel asked in dismay.

“The princess did assure me it was unintentional,” Coran replied. “I have received word from the infirmary that he should make full recovery.”

After breakfast, Samuel had arrived at King Alfor’s private study so that he, the king, head advisor Coran Smythe and Captain Shiro could discuss the final preparations for Emperor Zarkon’s arrival. However the first matter on the agenda had instead been his daughter’s ongoing trouble with maintaining a bodyguard.

“Samuel, I love Katie dearly but I can not keep asking Shiro to find replacement bodyguards.” King Alfor said. “In the last three years she has gone through enough bodyguards to fill its own regiment.”

“You’re exaggerating Alfor,” Samuel replied.

Shiro handed Samuel a tablet listing all the guards that had been assigned to watching the young princess. “Actually, considering average regiment size, she has gone through about a regiment and a half.”

“Oh quiznak,” Samuel muttered, “I swear, I’ll have a talk with her about this.”

“You did have a talk with her about this, about 23 guards ago, when we last brought this to your attention,”Alfor replied. “And in her defense, the next guard she had after your talk did last almost a whole Quintent longer than what has become the average. It might be time for a different approach.”

“What if we placed an electric collar around her neck that would track her location and deliver a mild electric shock if she left the castle unsupervised.” Coran suggested.

“This is my daughter we’re talking about,” Samuel said indignantly. “She’d have that collar deactivated within thirty ticks. Ten if she didn’t do it with her eye’s closed just to prove a point.”

“True,” Coran replied before contemplating for a moment. “I’ve got it! We use a leash with a really long chain.”

“Do we at least know why she is against a having bodyguard?” Alfor asked.

“She feels she doesn’t need a bodyguard and is easily irritated by the guards that get assigned to her,” Samuel replied. “I think if she could get along with the guard she wouldn’t be as vehemently against it.”

Shiro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. All his choices for bodyguards had been based on skill and previous experience. While that approach served well in other cases, maybe it was time go for someone based on personality instead.”

“I can respect that but if she hasn’t been able to get along with any of the guards she has been assigned thus far, I doubt she’ll like any of them,” King Alfor said dismissively.

“Actually, there is one person we haven’t tried yet,” Shiro said. “He’s a less orthodox choice but I think he may be what we’re looking for.”

“I’ll trust your judgment,” King Alfor replied. “Assign him and if he doesn’t work out we’ll revisit the leash idea.”

Everyone present was pretty sure Alfor was joking about that last part.

***

Shiro was at his desk in his office when a white-haired Altean walked in and gave him a salute.

“You wanted to see me, sir.”

“Take a seat Lance,” Shiro replied.

Lance complied before starting to talk again.

“Listen, if this is about that thing with the diplomat's daughter, I am really sorry.”

“No it’s not, as far as I can tell that matter was resolved. Though for the record, that had been the diplomat’s wife.”

“Really? I must find out the product she uses cause she looked phenomenal.”

“We’re getting sidetracked,” Shiro scolded. “You’re here because I have an assignment for you. You will be acting as bodyguard to Princess Katie.”

Lance sat up straighter at that.

“Seriously?”

“Is that a problem?” Shiro asked.

“No, it’s just I figured that job would go to someone a bit more senior.”

“There have been some..difficulties in finding someone suited for the role,” the captain said tactfully. “And despite a few ‘incidents’ your performance has been highly commendable. I have the absolute faith that you are the best man for the job.”

“Thank you sir, I won’t let you down.”

“Very good, now you have two vargas to prepare and I’ll introduce to the princess this afternoon.”

***

“What do you mean it’s not ready yet? It’s already been two quintents.”

Hunk, a well built Altean male with short brown hair, rolled his eyes as he continued to pour juice into bottles.

“I have told you repeatedly, spiced juniberry juice must be slow cooked for two quintents and then chilled before serving. It’s only just finished cooking and it is going to take at least six vargas to chill in the fridge so you’re going to have to wait.”

Instead of replying, Lance paused to check that no one was around before he picked up one of the bottles filled with warm juice and blew on it. He then handed now cold bottle back to Hunk.

The large altean glanced once at the bottle that now felt like it had spent six vargas in the fridge and once at his white haired friend.

“Remind me again, why exactly are you keeping your magic a secret?”

“Just pour the juice!”

Hunk took out two glasses and filled them with the now chilled liquid.

“What’s the rush?” Hunk asked as he passed Lance a glass.

“I have to meet Shiro for my new assignment in a varga and we both know that once word gets out that you made your spiced juniberry juice it will be gone in a dobash.”

“Fair enough,” Hunk replied before both Alteans took a sip from their juice. “So what’s the assignment?”

“I’ll be the bodyguard to Princess Katie.”

“Seriously? Aren’t you worried?”

“I am bit,” Lance admitted. “I mean, being solely responsible for the safety of a princess is a lot to take on but Shiro has faith in me so I’m sure I can manage.”

“I don’t mean just protecting any princess, I mean this particular princess,” Hunk explained. “Word is she goes through bodyguards like toilet paper. I spoke to nurse Glacia and she said they were still treating the last bodyguard the princess had. They said the princess poisoned him.”

“Come on Hunk, you know how the rumour mill is, I’m sure it will be fine,” Lance replied. “Just got to be myself and it will all work out.”

Hunk rolled his eyes, he loved Lance like a brother but he sometimes worried about the young guard’s grip on reality. He chose to remain silent though, he wasn’t a guard so it wasn’t really his place to judge and for all he knew, Lance might surprise him. This might just be the boost Lance’s career needed.

His doubts were then redoubled when Lance broke the silence.

“So you spoke to nurse Galcia. Did she ask me at all?”

***

Lance arrived with Shiro in one of the royal gardens. On the way there Shiro had brought Lance up to speed on the Princess’s previous guards and unfortantly the rumours were starting to sound more plausible.

“Wait here until I call for you,” Shiro ordered.

Doing what he was told, Lance stood there as Shiro approached the princess. Seeing her from the distance Lance was certain that the rumours were unfounded. She looked the part of a princess with flowing brown hair, green and gold dress, elegant pose. There is no way someone that looked so sweet would poison a guard.

Lance started to rethink that analysis that Shiro had trapped in some vines. Still when Shiro signaled him to come over, he put on a confident smirk and a little extra swagger in his step. He would be able to win her over with some of the Lance McLain charm.

Shortly afterward he was dangling in the air by his ankles.

Maybe he needed a different approach.

***

Shiro left the Lance and the Princess, or Pidge as she insisted to be called, alone. Once Pidge set Lance free from the vines the two started to head to her room. Lance decided to break the ice by telling her a bit about himself.

“So that’s why mom started working at the castle,” he finished with his latest story. Whilst he had been talking he also examined Pidges room. Checking for any potential threats or vulnerabilities but also because her room was filled with so many wondrous things. His current focus was a portable telescope.

“Wow, I haven’t seen one of these since we organized grandpa’s barn.”,

“Be careful, it’s an antique,” Pidge ordered.

Having been taught that antique meant far more than what you could afford, Lance carefully set the telescope back down.

“I love old astronomy equipment,” Lance stated, hoping to find some common ground with the princess. “Marco’s wife works under Commodore Trayling and she sends me cool space stuff all the time.”

Pidge didn’t seem enthused by this and instead said, “It’s getting a little late, Lance. I should probably get ready for tonight.”

Lance blinked in confusion. It was an obvious ploy to get him to leave since she looked ready for tonight but Lance wasn’t exactly sure why Pidge would be wanting to get him to leave. Especially since they were meant to be getting to know each other better.

“You’re already ready though. And we still have five vargas before dinner.”

“I need all of those vargas. Do you know how long it takes to apply all that makeup?” She replied.

That made sense to Lance though it gave him inspiration for how he could prove to Pidge that he was useful to have around.

“Oh yeah,I can help you apply it. I did my sister’s for Marco’s wedding and everybody raved about it, You’d be done in half the time.”

“I need to go to the bathroom. And take a shower.” Pidge replied, then added quickly, “and you are not following me in there.”

“Not a problem. I’ll be right here.” He replied as he made himself comfortable in a nearby chair, deciding to take a look at an elemental magic book that looked interesting.

The bathroom door closed and soon the sound of running water could be heard. As Lance jumped ahead to the chapter covering water magic he was feeling good. It genuinely felt like he was making progress with the princess.

After Fifteen dobashes Lance started to get suspicious. While he was no stranger to long showers, he also knew how water usually sounded when it was hit againsts body and that water that was running was not sounding right for someone supposedly taking a shower. Still, he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

When it had been a full varga since the water had been running, Lance knocked on the door.

“Pidge? You alright in there?”

When no response came Lance became certain something was up. Praying to the ancients that it wasn’t just that she hadn’t heard him, he opened the door and saw that Pidge was gone and had simply left the shower running. After calling her name a couple of times for good measure, he became certain she wasn’t there.

“Quiznak!” He cursed as turned off the shower.

He started pacing back and forth as he weighed up his options. He could go chasing after her but he had no idea where she was. Even if he found the hidden passageway Pidge had most likely used she still had a full varga head start meaning she could be anywhere in the castle and possibly not even in the castle at all.

His next impulse was to alert the guard to start a massive search but he decided against it. It was clear that Pidge could handle herself and alerting the guard would cause mass panic as the scramble to find her, not to mention get him fired for managing to lose her with the first varga. It ultimately became clear that best course of action was to wait for her to get back and then have a heart to heart how this bodyguard situation was supposed to work.

The question now was what he was going to do while he waited?

***

He combed through Pidges collection of books. As a princess she undoubtedly had access to books and resources Lance would never be allowed near normally, most of the books naturally focused on plant magic but there were a few books about elemental magic in general. One particular booked discussed harnessing the element even if you couldn’t see it. After reading through he was curious to try.

He found a cup on Pidges desk and filled it with.water. He placed the filled cup on the ground and sat down, closing his eyes. The trick he had done to cool the Juniberry juice had been literally childsplay to him. As in it was something he was mastered when he was a child.

While there was probably a complicated explanation for how it works, to him it was only a matter of thinking cold thoughts and then blowing. More complicated magic like creating ice or manipulating water was harder and had taken him longer to learn. What was particularly hard was manipulating water you couldn’t directly see or feel.

While he knew roughly where the cup was, the point of the exercise is to connect the with his element even if he couldn’t see or directly feel the element.

Keeping his eyes closed, he cleared his mind and tried to sense where the water was. His mind reached out, searching to make that connection with his element. Finally, when it felt like he had made the connection he took in a deep breath and held it as he tried to make the water completely still. When water becomes completely still it freezes. After a moment, Lance opened his eyes and saw that the water in the cup hadn’t frozen. Disappointed, Lance released the breath he had been holding. He then noticed he could actually see his breath and made a startling realisation. His aim had been off so rather than freeze the water in the cup he had instead been freezing water in the air around him.

He decided to find something else to do and hoped the room warmed back up before Pidge came back.

***

Having sorted out Pidge’s vanity, tried a few of her products to see what would be for her and fiddled with some of her knick knacks, Lance had returned to reading when he heard the sound of the shower being turned back on, signifying Pidges return.

As he heard the door open, he welcomed her but as he turned the door suddenly slammed shut again. Deciding to get ready to do her makeup, Lance set himself up that the vanity.

“I wasn’t sure what your facial routine was so I tried out a couple. I’ve also heard some really good things about the Naquadian foundation, so I opened it up. Hope you don’t mind. It is excellent. I’ve been trying to hide this mole for years and it actually conceals it! I definitely recommend it. We can start with that and then I think the eyeliner would really bring out the gold in your eyes. They’re way too pretty to not get noticed.””

The door opened again and out stepped Pidge. Wearing the same dress she had worn when she had left.

“Same dress?” Lance asked, eyebrow raised. “Don’t you have like, a million of them?”

“I do not,” she said shortly, “and this happens to be my favorite so I want to wear it.”

He wanted to retort that he could clearly smell the forest and sweat on that dress but his ears picked up a strange buzzing sound that had certainly not been there before. Not wanting to alert whatever it was, he instead put on a smile as he led Pidge to the vanity seat.

“You’re the princess, I can work with this. Take a seat.”

He turned on the crystalline lights and searching for a cleansing wipes since the shower Pidge had taken had failed to remove the old makeup, all the while stealing quick glances to locate the source of the buzzing and pointedly ignoring the scowl Pidge was giving him.

“Yeah I know, you’ve obviously been doing it for a while considering how often you attend state events. I just enjoy doing this,” he said. He finally found a cleansing wipe and started with her forehead. “Cold showers are good for you after exercise, but you weren’t in there long enough to get your morning makeup off.”

He felt Pidge tense up. “I was in the shower the whole time.”

Lance managed to resist rolling his eyes. He couldn’t believe she was trying to play innocent but he kept his tone casual as he focused on finding the buzzing.

“Yeah that’s why you have day old foundation on and smell like the forest. Pidge, you live in a castle. It’s like a rule that there are secret passageways everywhere.”

“And you didn’t come after me?” Pidge sounded oddly surprised.

Lance threw the dirtied wipe in the trash receptacle and fished out a new one with his left hand as his right slowly sneaked towards his sheathed broadsword. He had located what was buzzing. At glance it looked like a spy drone.

“It didn’t sound like the water was hitting you in the shower so checked on you a varga later to make sure you weren’t dying. You were already gone. No idea where you went and didn’t want to send everyone into panic frantically looking for you. I figured I’d just wait until you came back. You’ve got plenty of cool stuff here to keep me occupied for a few hours.”

Without warning Lance stood up, drew his broadsword, and sliced through the air in one fluid motion, knocking his chair over in the process.

He hit his mark, slicing the drone cleanly in half. After sheathing the sword he picked up the pieces to show to Pidge.

Lance sheathed his sword and picked it up, holding it out in his palm to Pidge.

“If there’s a spy and they had found out you were out alone? It could have gotten ugly.”

“How did you notice?” Pidge asked. “I didn’t even hear it.”

“Grew up on a farm,” Lance explained. “I haven’t quite gotten used to the constant hum of machinery yet here in the city. It’s been buzzing around since you came out of the bathroom the second time.”

Hoping that act had least earned him some respect, Pidge seemed unimpressed. “I would have been fine.”

“Maybe. Whoever was listening knows you sneak out though. So the next time you go out, promise you’ll take me with you,” Lance pleaded. “It is my job.”

Surprisingly Pidge seemed to relent. “Only if you promise to let me practice my magic when we go out.”

That took Lance by surprise “Practice? You’re like perfect at it already why do you need to practice?”

“Because there is always room for improvement, just like technology. I need to become more precise, more powerful, learn the quirks of more plants,” she explained. “I have this gift and I have a responsibility to know it as well as I can. Some people don’t get that.”

“And that’s why you’ve gone through an entire regiment’s worth of bodyguards in the last three years?” Lance asked.

“Look, it’s nothing personal,” Pidge said. “I know Uncle just wants to make sure I’m safe, but I need to be able to take care of myself. What if something were to happen to you?”

“After today? Honestly, I’m relieved.” Lance said as he sat back down. He scooped up some cream and began to spread it over her face. “When Shiro selected me to serve as a bodyguard for the royal family I freaked out. I mean I love the idea, it’s a great way to become a hero, but the actual responsibility that I have? It’s terrifying. You Pidge? You’re really good with that plant magic. If I fail, you can save yourself.”

And Lance meant it. She wasn’t some helpless damsel, she clearly had power. Still no one was infallible and if nothing else he offered her and extra set of eyes. He could only hope she would let him help her.

“Besides your room is amazing! You have top of the line facial cream,” he rambled, putting some of said cream on his own face. “I’ll get to go to all the royal functions.” He gasped. “I’ll get to see Princess Allura. Is she as beautiful as everyone says she is?”

As he finished Pidge’s make up, he noticed she had gone back to scowling at him. Still, they finished getting ready and Lance was able to successfully escort Pidge to the supper. Lance had been pleased to learn that the rumours of Allura’s beauty were true but he, unfortunately, did not have the opportunity to introduce himself to her. Still, as Pidge’s bodyguard, he knew he’d get the chance to do it later.

After the supper, Lance and Pidge approached Shiro and showed him the damaged drone. While Pidge had wanted to keep the drone and figure out where it had come herself, Lance had pointed out that there could be more of them flying around the castle so Shiro needed to know about this. After getting a guarantee from Shiro that he would look into it but also give Pidge a chance to examine the drone once he was done with it, Pidge let Lance escort her back to her room.

“Well Pidge, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

Lance started to walk away when Pidge called out to him.

As he turned, he saw a prickly poltae flying straight at him. On instinct, Lance unsheathed his broadsword and sliced the poltae in two. Once done he looked up at Pidge in dismay.

“Why?!”

Pidge shrugged. “I wanted to make sure the drone thing wasn’t a fluke. I can’t have a bodyguard with shoddy reflexes. Good night.”

She then closed the door, leaving Lance wondering he had gotten himself into.

[yoongihime]

Game On│01

Spy!AU Jungkook x Rivals!OC  Length: 6.8K  Type: Mindless Fluff aka my specialty hehe Warnings: May have angst in later parts; ments of weapons and violence, etc.  Recommended OST: (x)  ✎ (a/n): this wasn’t supposed to see the light of day until I finished all my other things but I figured I might as well post it because it’ll give me motivation to finish it T^T also... how long has it been since my pure pure fluff days? this part is realllyyyy just fluff hahah next part may have angst and action so stayed tuned bebs. As always comments and feedback is always appreciated. I must give credit where credit is due and say that this is loosely inspired by the Gallagher Girls academy, but mainly the concept of the academy and the mother as a headmistress, but other aspects are birthed from my fluffy ass imagination.

→Summary: “As the daughter of the headmistress, you’re not particularly impressed by the age old history of the academy, the stories turned bland since you spent most of your childhood hearing the tales as your bedtime story. In fact, you remain unfazed by most circumstances, but as luck would have it, these circumstances happened to exclude a certain golden boy named Jeon Jungkook.” 

[11:07p.m.]

Aha, got him.

Trailing your eyes to from the receding figure to your cellphone, you can’t help but feel the corners of your lips tug themselves upwards.

Yes, this is how it should be. You had no reason to worry, even if it is a mission against his school today.

Rhythmic tapping of your fingers against the screen and your sneakers scratching against the pavement is all that is heard as you drift away from the scene, almost but not quite letting your guard down. You never let your guard down. Subtle vibration of the phone alerts you to the next step of the mission and you swipe your finger across the glass surface, expectant. A familiar robotic voice greets you,

“Hello, welcome to the final stage of your practical. Enclosed in locker 080604 between the intersection of 5th and 7th street you will find a package. Retrieve it. A carrier will arrive at exactly 12:00a.m. on Platform 4 from a train heading South. Deliver the package safely by 1:07a.m. and return to campus by the curfew of dawn. Best of luck.” by the time the voice is done speaking you’ve already thrown the device a few meters away from you where a tiny explosion can be heard. 

Typical.

Sighing slightly, because you’re going to have to run this one, you’re sprinting towards the underground tunnels and away from the crowded streets of downtown, too preoccupied to notice the man in all black on your trail.

[11:45p.m.]

Package retrieved. You’re leaning against the concrete pole with a giant four painted on the top, all but casual as adrenaline continues to pump through your veins. Slight buzzing of people can be heard, but from your position, you can easily observe the ebbs and flow of the station without questioning eyes. Besides, considering the time, the crowd has subsided to a quiet trickle. This is too easy, a voice whispers in your subconscious causing your eyes to flicker left and right every few seconds and brush the little pest away, refusing to relax. That’s when you scan the reflective spherical globe sitting atop of the adjoining corners of the station and notice the man leaning on the other side of the pole, tense—too tense to be work related stress. A soft tsk leave your lips because dammit you didn’t stretch today, but nevertheless you reach for your white earphones, tapping the little tab as if to increase the volume.

“Yes, (y/n)?”

“Bora, I’m gonna have to ask you to clear out all the flies in our dorm.”  

“Number?”

You scan for the hidden surveillance cameras before coming up with the number, “Four”

“Okay.. you’re clear in 3..2..1”

“Thanks love,” you murmur before reaching behind the pole and pulling the man down by his collar, the restraints of security cameras lifted off your shoulders thereby lifting your self-restraint as well.

“How classy,” you murmur as you observe the pressed suit and crisp tie around his neck with the man laying still on the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs, “last semester they came after me dressed in a black ski masks. Can you believe it?” you chuckle as he slowly regains his senses and tries to pull you down onto the floor with him, but you push the heel of your foot into his sternum before he could get anywhere. Landing a light jab against his side, you push his body towards the darker corners of the station as to not draw attention to your far-from-mundane activities.

“Shh, there are people!” you hush him with a slight jab when he finds his footing, his expression belligerent. His fists are not as fast as your kicks and it’s almost a sin but, you’re playing by this point. Searching for his pressure point on the junction of his neck and shoulders you quickly push firmly into the flesh and watch the man unfurl sloppily onto the floor. You’ve always preferred the finesse of pressure points and weak spots rather than punching someone to a pulp. Such was taught by the academy in their sad attempt to retain some sort of “ladylike” image for their students.

A hard blow to the back of your skull reminds you that these men always travel in packs and you turn around to be met with another man in a similar suit, clearly not as inexperienced. Cheshire cat grin on, you’re weaving your way through his blows, only avoiding his fists by a millimeter. Big targets are rather unfortunately slow, but damn they sure pack a punch you thought as you feel the dull pain on the back of your head radiate down your spine.

“Five minutes until arrival” the voice overhead announces, and you lean further away from the recovering man, the sounds of his pants harsh even in the buzzing station,

“That’s your cue buddy.” you smile before pushing two fingers deep into his throat and watch in perverse satisfaction as his eyes roll to the back of his head and his body crumple unceremoniously on top of his partner.

“(y/n) you really shouldn’t play like that” Bora chastises you from your right ear, but the amusement too thick in her voice to take seriously.

“Mute me for like five seconds” you murmur.

Breathing in deeply, you fake the most girlish, high pitched wail you could and watch as the initially annoyed looks of passerby's turn to shock then pure horror as they take in the men on the ground and rush over to shower you with oh honey are you okay’s and my god what happened’s. Turning their attention to your two unfortunate victims, you utilize the distraction to stroll towards the yellow line as the train comes humming by and stops right in front of you, unobstructed by the prying eyes and claustrophobic number of bodies found you. They never recognize you, those strangers. You’ve always thought there was nothing in particular that made you stand out in the crowd and it suits you just fine because it makes you good, if not great, at what you do.

“Profile?” you ask as you scan the crowd, waiting for the specs resting on the bridge of your nose to match the carrier on the train. Bora starts listing off the traits but her voice is all but heard when a familiar presence brushes up right next to you, soap and cotton topped with good looks and even better hair all wrapped nicely in a black suit.

“Good Evening, (y/n)” he greets you, friendly no less, as if you weren’t rivals, as if he wasn’t aiming for the same target as you—as if he can not feel the tension between the two of you right now.

“Jungkook.” you greet him as you look up towards the annoyingly handsome face, his shit eating grin in place, ebony hair mussed to perfection.

“I don’t suppose you’re looking for that man?” he points towards a particularly calm middle aged man in the middle of the train, his eyes trained on his newspaper, however when he looks up the green circle flashes in your vision. Bingo.

“It’d be rather unfortunate, if by chance, I’ve already delivered the package right (y/n)?”  he smiles, his grossly adorable bunny-like smile. It makes you want to smack it off.

“You didn’t.”

He pushes closer, the heat tangible between the two you, “What if I did?” his smile stays in place, but it simmers into a smirk, his gaze boring into yours.

Pulling him in by the tie, you grasp the silky material as you whisper in his ear,

“Game on.”  

[1:08a.m.]

“(y/n), what ever in the world were you thinking when you challenged Jeon Jungkook like that!” your best friend and current roommate Bora yells into the empty silence; not caring that it is, in fact, one in the morning. She’s running down to the foyer, her eyes clear and round as the goldfish bowl you had in third grade. Nonetheless, her presence eases you out of the vines of tension still tangled in every single one of your nerves. Making your way down the lavishly decorated hall, you keep moving until your arms crush her lithe form to yours, breathing in her peach scented shampoo.

“Now, now I passed didn’t I?” you greet her with the hug, effectively shutting her up and feeling her muscles loosen in your embrace. She’s tired too, her numerous devices still connected to her body and her bluetooth stuffed in her right ear, eyes droopy with fatigue but smile radiant nonetheless. Bora has been your best friend ever since the second grade; her love for technology earning her a place in this academy. Maybe love isn’t the right word but rather gift, considering that she broke the government’s firewall in fifteen minutes flat at the age of sixteen— let’s just say the FBI got a shock when they crashed into the apartment to discover a little girl writing pages and pages of codes while mindlessly listening to Today’s Top Hits. So it’s no surprise that there aren’t many systems that she cannot get her pretty little hands into, but even geniuses have their limits.

“The principle is not going to be pleased.” her muffled mumble can be heard from your shoulder, the cotton uniform absorbing her voice but not her unease. You tense once again, but for an entirely different reason, knowing full well you’re surely about to get an earful when she realizes you’re back, which can be any second now.

“Ahh my mother has had better days for sure.” you agree and before you could escape to a blissfully hot bath, a voice over the intercom summons you, echoing through the halls and shooting straight to your eardrums.  

(y/n) you are requested to report to the principle’s office at your earliest convenience. And by earliest convenience I do mean NOW.

“Ah that woman, impatient as always” you groan as you reluctantly let Bora free from your constricting embrace, her shouts of encouragement fading as up make your way up the grand staircase. Portraits line the walls, the glints of light reflecting off the giant chandelier in the middle making the rustic design sparkle despite their age. The portraits of the founders tell the history of this mansion— an all girls academy known for producing the most well mannered ladies and even more lethal spies, but only among those who seek out the information, of course. Situated precariously close to the overlook into the ocean, the main entrance of the academy is designed to be look like any other stuck-up rich kid school that decorates the coast, however the mansion contains an infinite amount of quirks parallel to that of it’s inhabitants—quirks you’re still working to discover. As the daughter of the headmistress, you’re not particularly impressed by the age old history of the academy, the stories turned bland since you spent most of your childhood hearing the tales as your bedtime story. In fact, you remain unfazed by most circumstances, but as luck would have it, these circumstances happened to exclude a certain golden boy named Jeon Jungkook.

It’s the oldest story in the book, every good institution needs to have a rival and it just so happens that his school is yours. Behind these cobbled stones and ivy vines crawls deep ingrained secrets, the one in particular that your mother will kill to keep is the fact that—

“(y/n) for God’s sake why must you entertain your father like that!”

Her voice rings through the spacious room before your brain process the sound of the door closing, her frown visible and deeply engraved on her forehead due to the blazing fireplace to her left. Sighing, you prepare yourself for her usual lecture and clasp your hands together behind your back as a way to physically hold on to your temper. Your mother is one frightening woman who probably can talk her way and possibly even force her way out of thousands of situation. When she wants something she will reach for it no matter if it’s all the stars in the universe or, in this case, the ability to run her own academy. She always achieves what she wants.. and then some. Unfortunately, the “some” does not include your father’s agreement to divorce and she’s still fuming about the man to this day. In all technicality, you don’t count this as a divorce, but a rather intense fight between a married couple who happen to be extraordinary people and thus, the circumstances of their lover quarrel are also rather out of the ordinary. As part of their agreement, your father decides to open an all boys academy (haha very funny dad) and, well, surprise surprise a rival arises for your humble abode. Though it seems rather immature and extreme, nothing can deny the sparkle of life in your mother’s eyes when one of her girls beat the boys from his academy.

“I still passed the practical, mother,” you huff and decide to settle into the lumpy leather chair she brought from her last trip to the Middle East. That mission was her favorite. Apparently people are very generous when you take down their biggest crime organization— who would’ve thought?  

“Yes, but barely!” she explodes from her mahogany desk, her mannerism like that of a crazed bull, ready to charge for the red target that you’ve gone and recklessly strapped to the middle of your forehead.  

“That boy could have easily won and you know that (y/n). He was toying with you.” She sighs when she sees that you will not be affected by her yelling; so she aims for your soft spot to level your anger with hers—Jeon Jungkook is that switch. Jumping up from your perch, you can feel your anger bubbling up, shattering your resolve to maintain any sort of ladylike manners in this conversation—if you can even call it that.

“Are you doubting my capabilities to carry out a mission? You are my headmistress, but you are also my mother first and foremost. I have been nothing but satisfactory in your eyes, mother. Are you mad that dad is keeping my brother hostage across the street?”  

“(y/n)” she softens immediately at the mention of your older sibling, you always knew he was her favorite.

“No, mom,” you sneer the term, “you go and have my genius brother. Might as well send me over there if you miss him that much. I’m sure dad would not mind having me.”

“If you’ll excuse me, headmistress” you back out of the room, but not before giving her a stiff bow to show that you are thoroughly hurt and her gentle call of your name is cut off by the final thump of the double wood doors in their lock.

[2a.m.] (aka unholy time where you definitely should be in your bed)

The cool grass sinks a bit with each step, allowing your footprint to be impressed on the morning dew; it leaves you a bit uneasy because you hate leaving traces of yourself anywhere, but tonight is nothing important anyways. You’re half way to your destination when you pull the black cloth to cover your mouth and with a huff, you start on a steady run the rest of the way to your rival school.

Cool moonlight and thin fog shrouds you as you note the placement of the lasers and security cameras, easily skipping over them, crawling beneath the sensors and letting that sense of satisfaction hit you as you straighten next to one of the numerous back doors of the mansion.

“Top spy school my ass, I didn’t even—“ you murmur until a distinct click next to your head shuts you up and chills every nerve in your body to absolute zero.

“Don’t move.” he murmurs, the metal still pressed against your temple but his hand begins to turn your chin around, the pads of his fingers pulling the thin fabric down from your face—exposing your identity.

“Well, well to what do I owe the pleasure of your company right in my very own backyard today?”

You would know that voice anywhere, it’s the only one besides your mother’s that can get you this worked up.

“Jeon.”

sometime before dawn

Bang!

The gun shot echoes into the silent night, the explosive little blast also blowing your anger away with every press of the trigger against your right index finger.

“So you mean to tell me that your mom pissed you off so you purposely snuck out of one of the most secured places on Earth to break into another one of the most secured places on Earth, if not more secured,” you give him a look at that, “because you just wanted to rant to your dad?”

Bang!

Another shot slices through the empty shooting range, hitting a centimeter away from the center of your target, but you dare say most of your shots have been good if not perfect from this distance. Jungkook stands up from his sprawled out position on the grass, his loose cotton dress shirt a contrast against his crisp pressed uniform from a few hours before—it makes him look your age for once. He looks at your hand expectantly and your grip loosen to hand him the gun, nozzle still smoking and warm from your previous shots. He’s laughing, the rich sound surprisingly soothing in the misty night, like a gentle breeze to cool your temper.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you,” you grumble and hand him the gun, but not before the barest brush of your fingers sent sparks of electricity creeping up your spine, 

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you though.” you hurriedly finish your sentence before the pesky sparks can travel to your brain. Settling on Jungkook’s previous perch on the cool grass, you allow the moisture to gather on your jeans and relax your tense muscles, watching intently as Jungkook spreads his legs a bit before looking down the range at the target. Under the dim light of the moon he looks lethal, like an angel of death sent with the sole purpose of prosecution; the white cotton pressing against the grooves of his back as his muscles underneath flexes and relaxes with each shot.

“I’m not too bad to talk to, (y/n)” he murmurs over a shot, the bullet still finding the dead center of his target despite the vocalization of his thoughts.

Hours of random questions, mindless questions that seem unimportant but crucial all at once flow by the ticks of time and Jungkook proves himself true to his previous statement. That didn’t come as a surprise to you, of course. You already knew he was charming from the moment he convinced you, with that smile and boyish chuckle, to follow him here—albeit he did have you at gunpoint— to his hideout.

Jungkook, you discover, is very much just like you and it’s in this similarity that allows you to you accept that he’s your better half—that’s why he’s someone worthy to be your rival. It makes you a bit disgruntled, how can someone so perfect be matched to you?

Changing the subject, you immediately steer it towards yet another tangent, one that doesn’t involve your cryptic feelings, but he takes it all with grace, savoring your endless attention,

“Say, why is this your favorite place?” you question, watching as he fires off another round, taking in the dewy grass field, moonlight making the water drops glitter like they we made form the stars themselves. He pauses at that, perhaps not expecting you to keep talking to him— you’ve never spent this much time with Jungkook, let alone held a conversation. The nature of your relationship is a role you picked up in your training, nothing more. He was father’s star pupil; you are your mother’s daughter and the rest was history. At times you wonder what would happen if you two were not rivals, but then again it’s not like he treats you like one in the first place.

“It’s because I spent the most time here in my first year,” he answers, his hands searching for the next batch of bullets, but comes up empty. He sheepishly walks towards you and you wordlessly hand him a loaded magazine from the strap on your thigh. Jungkook ducks the other way before you could see him swallow at the action.

“A genius like you? Practice?” you scoff, like he would need it.

“No (y/n), I’m serious. Most of my time is spent eating, sleeping, going on missions and practicing for missions.” he confesses, the bitterness unmistakable even under his smile like the taste of coffee under milk and sugar. Ah, the wasted hours and abandoned childhood to perfect your craft, you also know that feeling all too well.

“You’re already too good.” you blurt before the tiny voice in your head could shut your mouth up. Ah shit, you think when he whips around, his eyes doe-like in their innocence, their wonder and you know for a fact you’re inevitably screwed.

“Did you just compliment me?” he asks, his laughter blooming like a sapling basking in the sunlight for the first time.

“Well, yeah,” you shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, “I might be proud, but I’m not blind.”

Jungkook pauses at that, his gaze landing on yours, the warm brown of his eyes a rich ebony in the darkness of night; it makes his gaze all the more smoldering.

“You’re even better (y/n).” he declares boldly as if it was a fact.

“Oh please, Jungkook I can’t even sneak into my own father’s place without getting caught, and today,” your voice shaking, “today you could’ve won.” you huff, the self pity melting into the mist in front of your face; your mother’s taunting words echoing from the recesses of your memories.

“It’s not your fault you happened to pick my favorite sneak out spot is it? And I would never let you win easily (y/n). If I do that then I won’t be worthy of being your rival and you see, I plan to keep you here for a very long time. Right by me and maybe one day not as my rival, but as my partner in crime,” he explains, his expression softer than you’ve seen him in ages, but it only lasts a millisecond before he beams up at you and suddenly your brain functions come to a halting stop and breathing becomes a foreign concept.

A slight twitch of the corner of his lips clearly displays his amusement and it only takes a cock of his head, a degree raise in the eyebrows to send your brain haywire and suddenly you’re very much aware that Jeon Jungkook is oh so painfully attractive and staring looking at you like you’re only thing that mattered in the thousands of galaxies and boundless cosmos that exists. Managing a little scoff you simply push him towards the range because what can you do when you’re a hopeless mess on the inside; feeling like you will spontaneously combust under his gaze. If there is one thing that your mother’s “well-rounded” and “utterly comprehensive” curriculum did not teach you, it would be what to do when you’re falling for your one and only rival; given the only male species you’ve had contact with is your father, your brother and your Self Defense 101 instructor, appropriately nicknamed One Punch Man. All factors of the mission screams ABORT but right when your back is turned-  

Bang!

You hear the distinct sound in the peripheries of your mind. Only this time it’s not the target that is hit but your heart and the bullet that is buried deep within is nothing but the stupid cupid arrow, causing your heart to flutter frantically from the blow of Jungkook’s smile.

Dawn aka oh shit you’re way the hell past curfew

Purple fades into the stormy blues and the greets you with it’s warmth, making the features of the boy next to your clearer than ever. He looks pensive, his eyelashes kissing his cheeks gently as he observes the emptied magazines around you and the ragged target that used to be whole. You wait patiently for soft pink of the sunrise to fade into a clear blue however, it seems that your world is permanently dyed rose when Jungkook huffs to straighten his form and offers you his hand. Swallowing, you tentatively reach for it, disregarding the fact that you might have just fallen for your biggest rival—looks like the mansion will have another secret to swallow this morning.  

“Give my greetings to my father for me.” you say as you brush off the last few blades of grass sticking to the denim on your legs. Jungkook looks down at you with a certain longing, as if you’re a puzzle he can’t quite solve, a problem he’s confronted with for the first time.

“Why don’t you just go say hi? I’m sure he misses you.” Jungkook suggests.

You merely raise you eyebrows in response, “And have my father interrogate you for the next 24 hours from behind the two way glass room six floors under about what his star pupil is doing with his only daughter in the darkest hours of the night and possibly waking up the entire school? I think you and me both would rather avoid that man’s rage right Jungkook?” you laugh at the thought. Jungkook simply chuckles nervously, not only because he knows that the situation is highly likely if not guaranteed and because he’s pretty sure that’s the first time you didn’t call him Jeon.

“I feel the need to say a farewell, so I suppose I’ll say Good Morning.” you say as you begin your trek towards your mansion,

“Oh and thank you!” you yell, a blush burning it’s way across your cheeks so you increase your speed before he can glimpse at your flustered state.  

“I’ll see you soon.” Jungkook yells from the increasing distance, his confident smile making you want to question his plans for the imminent future but you brush it off with a thought of I hope not, despite your heart whispering between it’s thumps,

I hope so.

[5:19a.m.]

The slight squeak of the floor board betrays you when you slip into the room bright and early to only hear-

“Don’t even try it until you’ve spilled every word (y/n).”

“I was just—“

“Your phone GPS coordinate suggests otherwise.” Bora cuts you off before you could convince her that you were in the kitchen with the usual case of the munchies. She hops out of her bed, her iPad in hand, the red blinking dot of what assumes to be your satellite signal reflects of the sheer device and you sigh,

“Bora what did I say about sleeping with those things,” you hope to distract her but she isn’t up for your little chit-chats this morning.

“Correction: I was laying down with those things. Also, don’t call her a thing, my baby is precious.” she cuts you off and quirks an eyebrow at your lack of willingness to answer, all the while hugging the iPad to her chest.

“I may or may not have spent the last three hours with Jeon Jungkook.” you say in a hurry and dive towards the safety of your comforter.

“You wha—“ but before she can pester you with questions you dig your own grave and continue,

“I may or may not have a change of heart about the way I feel about him.”

The only sound you hear is the sound of her most prized iPad hitting the ground along with what was left of your sanity.

[7:00a.m.]

“What could he possibly mean by that?” Bora dramatically mimics your attempts at covering up the fact that Jungkook quite possibly likes you. And that you might, possibly, with the tiniest speck of hope, like him back, but of course you don’t want to get ahead of yourselves here. You shush her as you push into the dining room and greet your classmates or “sisters” as you speed walk towards the steaming cups of coffee.

“(y/n) he’s a dude, not Kryptos. He so obviously likes you— which by the way I’ve told you since the beginning, but you’re too stubborn to acknowledge and he was too stubborn to show it—wow you’re perfect for each other! You can’t possibly expect him to spell it out clearer than this, my dear.”

You groan in response and wait patiently for her to drain her self out with the subject, but her curiosity and enthusiasm of this little blossom of romance is infinite and vast as the horizons of the ocean. It’s not until she asks about your wedding plans that you decide to end this. You really didn’t want to pull this card but the only way you know how to shut her up is-

“Just like you and my brother?”

Bora snaps the crisp bacon in her hand into perfect halves, her fountain of words which were overflowing a few moments ago is suddenly barren.

“Th-That is not what we’re talking about right now.”

“Hmm I wonder if I should FaceTime him tonight.” you muse, watching from the rim of your coffee cup as she straightens in response.

“I’ll do it right after you get out of the shower, with that gorgeous face mask you plaster on every night, of course,” you giggle deviously as she completely drops her utensils and fumbles to collect her scattered thoughts enough to warn you,

“Do it and I swear to god you will be locked out of not only your phone but your laptop as well as that spare iPad you use for emergencies.”

“I love you best friend,” you coo and she finally lets go of the subject, for now.

[Two weeks or so later]  exam season.

Apparently soon to Jungkook is fourteen days, two hours and approximately eight seconds later. You’re on your way to your weekly meetings when you run into Bora in the lush hallway and the first thing that comes out of her mouth is-

“Honestly you two just need to date, please. You’ll make the most grossly adorable and talented babies ever.” Bora startled you out of your own daydreams and she eyes you apprehensively when you jump at her remark—you’re usually difficult to surprise, let alone startle, but she lets it go as soon as you begin to protest.

You grumble after her down the hallway to the conference room, arguing that it’s impossible to which she turns around to reply you’re in a spy school, nothing is impossible. Well, she did fail to mention that it is also an all girls spy school and anything outside of it is excluded, meaning boys are excluded and by boys you strictly mean Jeon Jungkook.

Pushing the large doors open, you’re still arguing with Bora as you enter the vast space. The conference room is often used for official purposes and assignments since it’s arguably one of the most expensive room in the entire mansion. Your mother likes to meet with the partner of the joint mission here since it easily fits a crowd. You’re guessing your final for this semester will be a collaboration. It’s rare that your school will partner with another and the prospect of testing other colleagues sends tingles of excitement down your spine.

Heavy, thick velvet drapes lining the floor to ceiling window that expose the head of the room to sunlight and the rest of the walls only function as a screen for presentations. A giant roundtable sits in the center, lined with large leather chairs… chairs that are currently occupied. Words shrivel up and die on the tip of your tongue as you take in the seven boys sprawled in various positions on cushioned seats, their heads snapping up simultaneously as you and Bora stand rooted at the entrance. Immediately, you spot two familiar faces in the group, but the first completely captures your attention as a knowing smile spreads across his face-

“Jungkook.”

“You guys already know each other?” the redhead in the corner perks up from the mention of Jungkook from your lips, clearly not aware of the situation just yet.

“Dude, that’s obviously (y/n). Did you not remember the ass kicking she gave him on his first practical?” a bouncing brunette answers for you and smacks the former’s arm as emphasis.

“Wait, so she’s the one he snuck out to see the other night? Okay kid, maybe I’ll consider forgiving you for disturbing my sleep,” a particularly tired looking blonde peeks from under the cap on his face.

“She’s so cute! Don’t you think she’s cute Namjoon?” the slender, smiling boy pops up from his chair, his energy practically bouncing off the walls of the room like over charged particles.

Namjoon looks up from his phone, an amused smile on his face as he disregards the question entirely and greets you,

“Hey kiddo! Did you miss your big brother?”  

In the next millisecond six pairs of eyes widen and you sigh as you hear their simultaneous,

“Brother?” yelled across the room.

You feel like you eliminated your self out of the picture when all eyes land on Namjoon and questions start to land down on him like rain pelting the roof. By this time, you and Bora are settled in the chairs opposite of the boys (despite Jungkook’s disapproving stare and Namjoon’s longing glance towards your roommate). Your brother simply chuckles at them and answers the scrutinizing questions calmly, but the consensus seems to be ‘you should have told us this not-so-little fact before’ and his answer to that is “It never came up.”

“So what you’re saying is, (y/n) is your sister and you just never happened to mention this fact because we didn’t ask?” says the puppy-like brunette and Jungkook simply shakes his head at the realization grumbling something along the lines of so much for respecting personal space, maybe he’ll finally stop flirting when he knows his team leader is your one and only brother.

“Well, no wonder you’re such a genius. It must run in the family.” the sleepy blonde chuckles, his smile gummy and amused.

“Damn, you guys look nothing alike.” the redhead whispers from his seat, scrutinizing every detail between you and your older brother.

“Thank God.” you and Namjoon murmur at the same time but it was loud enough for the entire room to hear because the next moment the six of them burst into laughter, the kind of mirth that only a group of life long friends can produce from each other.

“Wait,” the particularly pretty one speaks from beside Namjoon, “if you’re the headmaster’s son then that would make him (y/n)’s—“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because the next moment the doors open to reveal the man himself, looking like he’s attempting to evade a problem only to land himself into an ever bigger conflict.

“Dad!” you yell and launch yourself from your chair towards him. Perhaps what no one was expecting was the kick you placed a second too late towards the man’s head and his return that you dodge by a hair.

“You’re getting rusty old man.” you taunt and he grunts in return, your blows and blocks flowing like the push and pull of waves until air comes out in harsh puffs and both of your index and middle fingers are hovering over each other’s carotid artery, right where the shoulders meet the neck— a smile finally stretches your cheeks so much they hurt.

“You were going easy on me,” you sigh as you hug his form to yours, hearing his chuckle resonate through his entire body and you can almost imagine the crinkles that would appear by his eyes.

“No, you definitely improved. I haven’t seen you in months pumpkin!” he half shouts and squeezes you one last time to look at the stunned faces of his pupils. You soak in this embrace for what feels like seconds until you note the pin-drop silence that has settled in the room. Detangling yourself from your father, you catch Bora’s knowing smile and Namjoon’s slight giggle before taking in the six dazed boys in front of you.

“At ease gentleman, family tradition,” your father and their headmaster explains, straightening out his suit and watch the boys relax into their seat, except for Jungkook who looks at you with so much adoration that he earns a throat clearing from your dad and a warning look that have you stifling your laughter in your hand.

“Behave yourself, Jeon. This is official business.”

The blushing boy doesn’t get to retrieve this lost dignity because official business comes bustling into the room in the form of your mother, looking haggard as if she aged a decade in the span of weeks.

“Let’s just get this over with.” she grumbles without looking at the no doubt smug smile on your father, her ex-husband’s face. You watch as she situates herself at the head of the table, and immediately the curtains are drawn shut as the screens illuminate the faces of your potential targets.

“Ladies…” she begins and sweeps her eyes towards the seven boys across the table, “…and gentlemen. For your winter semester final, we will hold a collaboration between our academies.”

In the background, her voice continues to rattle off the details of the mission however, you only see the smiling boy across from you. Jungkook’s chocolate irises are alight with excitement, fixed right on yours and his slight smirk that can only be described as irritatingly handsome only serve to reignite the tingles down your spine— not only because of the mission, but rather one with your one and only rival.

The nine of you plus instructor are on the eighth basement of the academy. This floor is specifically for training purposes; the floors are lined with mats and walls plastered with nearly every weapon imaginable, hence the necessary presence of said instructor. You’re currently deciding partners, which would not have been such a grand affair if the boys did not decide to tease their youngest by fighting over you. Namjoon watches the “argument” unfurl with amusement which causes you to only roll your eyes, since he already dragged your roommate out of the picture and pulled her aside to god know where, but not before-

“Bora is my partner. You can fight over my little sister as you please, gentlemen.”

Thank you so much big brother, you mentally chastise him, but you bow your head in defeat as the five pair of eyes stare you down from across the table.

Headmistress (mom) wanted to keep the number low, but since BTS operates as a group she couldn’t argue with the clear unbalance in boy to girl ratio. Which is why you find yourself here, in the eighth basement, apprehension written all over your face as the boys bicker over the method to determine who should be your partner.

“Okay that’s enough,” you huff from your position on the mats, walking over to the boys, namely Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook who were still dead-set on making this as difficult as possible for you.

“I will decide, since you’re all fighting over me,” you sigh in defeat, “who ever beats me in a one-on-one will be my partner.”

There are groans, but Jungkook’s unmistakable smirk is the only thing that registers in your brain and it is in that exact moment that you feel the beginnings of regret tinging your decision.

Well, fuck.

[lightningcola]

((I said I’d post info on my ocs eventually so here it is lol. Also here’s a link to all art I have posted of them.))

ღBasic Infoღ

Full Name~ Sommy Childs/Booker Meaning~ none

Nickname/Preferred Name~ Sommy

Age~ 24

Age They Look~ 17-19, they age way slower than they should

Birthday~ February 13th Zodiac Sign~ Aquarius

Gender~ nonbinary/agender Pronouns~ they/them Sexuality~ aro/ace

Ethnicity~ generic white

Voice~ nasally, annoying. Loud when they're trying to be Extra™, no particular accent

Known Languages~ English

Theme Song(s)~ Young and a Menace - Fall Out Boy, Monster - Imagine Dragons

Theme Color~ bright green

ღPhysical Appearanceღ

Species~ human Skin color~ pale, pallor, a little sickly

Birthmarks~ none

Hair color~ black and green Hair length~ right above their shoulders, slightly curly and choppy, it grows super fast so they’re constantly trimming it, sometimes they get lazy and it grows out pretty long

Hair Texture~ generally kinda greasy, the dyed part is fried

Hair Dye(s)~ green streak on their left side Eye Color(s)~ dark purple Height~ 5′2 Weight~ 120 lbs but it varies pretty drastically

Body Build~ they’re short but they’re pretty strong

Blood Type~ AB-

Freckles~ none Tattoo/Scar/Piercings~ scars below left eye, right cheek, and hands from being thrown out a window. Scar on neck from getting their head almost chopped off by a couple cult weirdos. It gives them a raspy voice and affects their breathing, they just start wheezing sometimes. Scars on palms from themself. Scar on right shoulder from getting shot and scar on left thigh from getting slashed that causes their arm and leg to get stiff if it gets cold or if they don’t move it for a while. Glasses/Contacts/General Eyesight~ no glasses, good eyesight

Dominant Hand~ right

Scent~ coppery or metallic, hair bleach

ღFashionღ

General Description~dark clothes with collars or scarves

◇Formal◇ Switches between dresses and suits. They prefer dresses that they can run in, normally with long sleeves and a collar to cover up scars. ♧Pajamas♧ T-shirt and boxers usually, their favorite sleep shirt is an old Fogbank one ♤Usual Clothes♤ Turtleneck with black jeans and their usual trench coat, also their terribly edgy boots

ღHealthღ

Smoker?~ heavy Drinker?~ yes Drugs?~ used to do party drugs, due to their healing factor though drugs affect Sommy less and less as the time goes on. Endigo still affects them, though they only take it occasionally since it heightens their abilities then wipes them out for like a whole day, also they get pretty sick afterward, like the world's worst hangover. Issues?~ boi u bet

Allergies~ none

Mental Disorders~ none diagnosed

Physical Disabilities~ none Medication?~ sleeping pills, they have to take like way more than the recommended dose

Addictions?~ smoking, drinking Diet~ whatever's cheapest and closest. Since they use a lot of energy healing, they have to eat a lot more than the usual person.

Sleeping Habits~ They really don’t sleep well ever, they have a lot of nightmares. They actually need more rest than the average person so the lack of sleep double affects them. Sommy lives off mostly coffee and energy drinks. They can really only sleep comfortably when they’re around other people they trust. Because of this they always fall asleep when people hang out with them. Most people think it’s pretty rude, Rinnah especially. Sommy never explains why they fall asleep like that either so that doesn’t help anything. Void and Azariah do their best to accommodate this and often just hang around Sommy so they can actually get enough sleep. Neither really mention that they go out of the way to do this because Sommy would probably get super defensive. Sommy secretly really appreciates it though.

ღLifestyleღ

Bus?~ sometimes Train?~ sometimes Car?~ if they can steal one Others?~ would Love to ride a motorcycle

Neighborhood~ Usually a sad motel or a shitty apartment Upper/Middle/Low~ middle? I guess?

Education Level~ didn’t finish high school

Occupation~ hitman, works for Adelaide, professional older sibling to a bunch of mutant kids

Past Occupations~ bodyguard, courier

Dream Job~ FBI agent

Income~ $30,000 minimum each job

Goals~ not be such a terrible person, make a difference in someone’s life, help all the kids their parents fucked over, kill Adelaide 

Living with~ their own self-destructive ass, later they sorta kinda move in with Void.

ღTraitsღ

Optimistic or Pessimist~ pessimist Dangerous or not~ dangerous Daredevil or Cautious~ daredevil Introvert or Extrovert~ extroverted introvert Unorganized or Organized~ unorganized Logical or Emotional~ wants everyone to think they're very logical but they actually get emotional quite a lot Workaholic or Relaxaholic~ neither Confident or Shy~ tries to present themself as confident but it's just false bravo Stressed or Relaxed~ can get overwhelmed easily especially if they’re tired, which is all the time. Normally they’re pretty good at compartmentalizing stress but not all the time.  

Timid or Assertive~ assertive but in the most asshole way possible

Loud or Silent~ loud Naughty or Nice~ naughty (not sure how I feel about this wording tho) Bookworm or Not~ not Philosophical or Realistic~ realistic Believer or See to Believe~ see to believe but boi have they seen some shit

ღPersonalityღ

Usual Mood~ Tired™, grumpy, existential despair Habits~ scratching their skin off because they like to watch it heal, falling asleep around others, nail biting (like their hair, their nails grow super fast as well)

Values~ really skewed sense of justice, everyone is bad in some way, they blame themself for their parents' mistakes and do their best to try and fix it at all times Social Skills~ bad, like really bad. They usually come across as arrogant or sarcastic though they can act pretty well if needed. So it's more like they can fake social skills if they care enough but normally they don't

Strength~ good fighter, loyal, very rel8able if you get to know them, would die for you if they could actually die Weaknesses~ bad, mean, addictive personality, won't take their problems seriously ever, blames themself for too much shit, would fight you over nothing Soft Spots~ people who actually care about them, fuzzy socks, cats (they like to feed the stray cats that hang out in the alleys where they stay) Angry when~ someone goes after their friends/family (cliché, I know), being mislead, gaslighted Relaxed when~ with friends, in quiet places, cats Nervous when~ in large crowds, asking people for things, talking about themself

Phobias~ crippling loneliness, the inevitability of life, people they care about hating them

Pet Peeves~ people misgendering them, people hitting on them, people touching them in general, loud drunk guys

Likes~ fighting, funny socks, sitting around with people they like, when they actually get real sleep, cats, they love cats

Dislikes~ nightmares, themself, most of the people they work with, Murder Mom

Natural Talents~ fighting, being weird

Skills~ being the unwilling older sibling to a bunch of random mutant kids

Secrets~ they’re kind of a depressing open book if you ask the right questions, they would tell you most things about themself, they just get really anxious and nervous when they do it

Biggest Secret~ the fact that they’re still alive and who their adopted parents are (they’re hiding from Booker)

Does Anyone Know?~ Void

Regrets~ their entire life

ღFavoritesღ

Color~ bright green, black, muted greyish colors

Season~ fall

Holiday~ Halloween

Food~ anything home cooked

Animal~ cats

Book Genre~ mystery/thriller

Movie Genre~ horror

Music~ emo bs, Fogbank but only on the dl

ღLeast Favoritesღ

Color~ any bright color that’s not green

Season~ Summer

Holiday~ Valentine’s day

Food~ gas station sushi, they keep buying it and it keeps making them wicked sick

Animal~ rats

Book Genre~ romance

Movie Genre~ romance

Music~ sappy love songs

ღPowerღ

Type of Power~

Hemokinetics: they can control their own blood and any they touch. Usually, they form stake-like weapons since they're the easiest to make though they can make sharp edged weapons as well. Anything complex takes more energy and focus. They can only lose so much before they pass out from blood loss though they can absorb other people’s blood. Sommy can also sense injuries and illness in others and track people. They can also warm and cool their body temperature which allows their emo ass to wear their trenchcoat in the middle of summer.

Healing Factor: they heal faster than a normal human, but not at Deadpool or Wolverine levels. A cut or scrape takes anywhere from a minute or two to an hour or two to heal, bigger wounds take maybe a couple days. Cracked bones take about a day and broken bones can take up to a week depending. The problem with their healing is they can heal wrong very easily, like shattered bones can cause bone fragments to get lodged in muscle or joints which cause a lot of pain and they’re really hard to get out, bones can heal crooked which means Sommy has to re break them. When they were younger, they healed by producing a lot of scar tissue which is why old injuries still affect them/get stiff and stuff. They assume they got some bad internal injuries when they were a kid because they just get stabbing pains or they cough up blood. They know they can’t die from this but it scares the fuck out of Void. Sommy also can’t really have surgery or anything unless they counteract their healing ability, which they can do but since they still have old internal injuries they get pretty fucked up from that. They’re immune to blood borne illnesses but they can still get colds, the flu, stuff like that, they just recover faster. If they get too injured and don’t have enough energy to heal, their body starts to eat away at itself, if it gets too bad they go into a coma like state.

Other: They’re immune to mental manipulation from other anomalies, often the result is the feeling like someone is scraping at their brain. It’s not unbearable just uncomfortable and annoying. This goes for all anomalies.

Flaws~ they have to keep account of how much blood they've lost or else they will Die™, their healing factor will fuck them up if they’re not careful Accuracy~ relatively accurate? Control~ they're really good at the crude stakes and blades but anything too complex is difficult even if they're not fighting, though they get better with practice, they’re working on a claw thing

ღWeaponღ

Choice of Weapon(s): •hunting knife •handgun •shotgun, if they wanna get fancy Favorite/Main Weapon~ handgun Control~ pretty good Accuracy~ they are a great shot Flaws~ they always frickin run out of ammo because they never bring enough, they usually have to use a gun or something if they don’t plan on killing the person because they’d rather not show them their freaky blood power

ღRelationsღ

Mother~

Carol Childs. Sommy's birth mother, she was not ready for a kid and didn't want one either. She mostly liked to watch Sommy react from her yelling at them. She wasn't pure evil but she didn't have many good qualities either. She was the enforcer and the business part of the family business.

Joyce Booker. A police lieutenant, Joyce turned to adopting kids after witnessing too many shipped off to foster care. She tried her best in raising Sommy and Ophelia, giving them all the help she could think of, though she could be too over enthusiastic and overbearing at times. Sommy regrets not telling her how much they appreciated her. She was the kind of mom that the kid thinks is a little embarrassing but everyone else thinks is really cool.

Father~

Lyle Childs. He was a master scientist, the creator of the drug that caused Sommy’s powers. Sommy would have loved to hate him but he didn't interact with them long enough for them to know anything about him. Though Sommy did look him up after they were adopted, reading up on all of the terrible stuff he did.

Craig Booker. He was a quiet man, always worried about saying something wrong. However, he did love his children and tried to express that as much as he could, even when Sommy had gotten into Another fight and he had to go pick them up early from school again. Sommy liked just sitting with him because they felt like they didn't have to talk or say that everything was great.

Sister~

Ophelia Booker. She was 3 years older than Sommy, however, they both got along like they had known each other forever. They could talk to each other about all the stuff that had happened to them. Ophelia supported Sommy any way she could and Sommy did their best to lend a hand in Ophelia's cyborg rights activism. Even after they ran away, Sommy still donated to her cause every year. People would try to convince Ophelia that they were dead but she wouldn't listen and continued to look for Sommy for years. She was eventually rightfully pissed off when she found out they were still alive and had been hiding from her for years.

Cousin~

Connie “Void” Greenglass. Sommy and Void didn't really talk outside family get together's before Sommy disappeared. To be fair, Void was 3 years younger than them. However, they reunited after Sommy found them 7 years later. In that time, Void was working as a reporter, mostly writing fluff pieces, waiting for a big story. Sommy brought them the story of a criminal empire that had its fingers in almost every facet of the city. After minor convincing, Void agreed to write the story as long as they managed to dig up enough evidence. In their “investigation” time they saw more shit than they ever wanted. One of the worst times was when Sommy got their side ripped open by the guy they were supposed to be following. Void is a bit of a doormat and doesn't really call Sommy out on a lot of the shit they probably should. They also promise Sommy not to tell Ophelia about what they've been doing, which really does not go over well when Ophelia eventually finds out.

Friends~

Rinnah Iyver. Sommy and Rinnah don't get along due to their clashing personalities and the fact that Sommy's super annoying. Also due to the fact that Rinnah knows they’re involved with Endigo. Since her father was killed due to her mother’s inability to pay back her debt owed to Loorka, and her mother was in debt because of her drug addiction, Rinnah tends to blame the substance and anyone related to it. However, they both kind of have to get along because Sommy is best friends with Rinnah’s brother and Rinnah is dating Sommy's sister.

Cypher Nox. Sommy has a weird feeling around him, like someone’s scratching the back of their brain every time he talks, also they can't shake the feeling that he looks really familiar. Despite this they both get along well enough, often bonding over traumatic childhoods which Cypher is really cryptic about.

Viper Anguis. Sommy deemed Viper the “coolest” of the group. They often join him and Cypher for a drink. They also like to spar with him because he's a skilled hand to hand fighter due to his experience in an underground fight club.

Lacy Rosecrans. Sommy met her after hearing reports of weird mass mood fluctuations. After investigating the area they found Lacy, an anomaly with empathic abilities that she couldn’t control. Since she was one of the first anomalies Sommy had found at that point, and the most understanding and, well, normal, they bonded pretty quick, Sommy being like an older sibling to her. They both talk often and Sommy will do whatever is within their power to help her when she occasionally loses control over her abilities.

Asher Iravit. One of Void’s closest friends, after he told them about his ability to turn invisible, Void introduced him to Sommy. Ash is a bit too goofy for Sommy but they get along well, especially with having Void as a sort of buffer. He’s often called to “babysit” Sommy by Void when they’re especially worrying them.

Margot Mentior. She’s a counterfeiter who provides Sommy with passports, fake IDs, and other documents. They both met when she tried to ask Sommy out at a bar, after declining, Sommy and her began talking. They found out both their jobs were outside the law and Sommy did their best to warn her about Adelaide. Margot appreciated the advice and offered Sommy a discount if they ever needed her services. They stayed in contact and she is one of the few people Sommy trusts almost absolutely.

Best Friend~

Azariah Iyver. Sommy saved his life after he was attacked by a couple assholes. He lost an eye but probably have lost more if Sommy hadn't stepped in and kicked their asses. After recovering, Azzy realized he had never thanked the person who had saved his life. Using his computer skills and connection to other hackers, he tracked Sommy down. They didn't remember saving him and he didn't bring it up. They talked for a long time online. They told him about Adelaide and he convinced them to do something about her. Azzy is probably the only one who believes Sommy has the capability to change for the better.

Enemies~

Adelaide Creed. Originally Sommy viewed her as a parental figure. She taught them the ins and outs of the criminal business and started to groom them to be the second in command of her empire. After a while though, Sommy realized that she really wasn't as nice as she had originally seemed. They realized she was a monster. Adelaide had made Sommy her project and spent her time gaslighting and manipulating them into what she wanted.

Other~

Needlehands. He's a back alley monster doctor who does as much experimentation on his patients as he does actually fixing them. After his creator died, Needlehands tried to continue his work. He met Sommy when they were bleeding out from, what looked like, a half decapitation. He was amazed how they were still alive and patched them up. After finding out about their abilities, he just wanted to study them further. Needlehands made a deal with Sommy, he'd fix them up and help them out and they would let him look into what actually happened to them in regards to their abilities. After a while, Needlehands began to get really protective over them so now Sommy has a monster dad. He also helps Sommy research Endigo, its effects and a way to counter it.

Lewis “Trace” Harvey. He's a mediocre hacker employed by Adelaide. Sommy started blackmailing him to get him to do things for them. He's a disrespectful, insensitive asshole but Sommy has to put up with him if they want anything techy. However, after they meet Azzy they planned on killing Trace to make sure he didn't spill any info on them. Lucky for him, Void stepped in to watch him which they later regret.

Hydrea “Drea” Vannie. She is obsessed with Sommy, constantly trying to be their girlfriend. Too bad for her, Sommy absolutely despises her. They would love to kill her but Drea’s dad is a high ranking politician and she's also employed by Adelaide. Sommy assumes she was hired just to annoy them as Adelaide has said she finds her “very amusing”.

Johnny Clayborn. He also works for Adelaide and is one of the few people that genuinely scare Sommy. After he first got hired, Sommy was tasked to follow and observe his methods. Turns out he’s a cannibal that eats most of the people he kills and dissolves the rest. His love of zombies and weird, quiet nature really doesn’t help the unbelievably creepy vibe he gives off at all times. Sommy tried to hide the fact that he scared the piss out of them, especially when he kept inviting them for dinner.

Crushes~

none

Past Relationships~ none

Current Relationship~

none

Relationship Status~

single, forever

ღLifeღ

Birth/Infancy~ Sommy's birth parents were about as criminal as you could get. Involved in drug cooking, they were both hailed as geniuses due to their creation of a new drug, named Endigo. Taken as an adult, the side effects could vary from sleep paralysis type hallucinations to seizures. However, children exposed before birth and who have suffered traumatic events can develop brain anomalies leading to strange abilities and for some reason, strange eye color.

Childhood~ Sommy was involved in their parents' drug manufacturing, doing small tasks like packaging and the like as soon as they were able. They saw more than their fair share of shit during that time though they don't remember much. When they were 9, their parents were caught and arrested. Sommy seemed to be headed for an orphanage when they were adopted by a couple, the Bookers. Mrs. Booker was the Sergeant involved in the arrest of Sommy's birth parents. Along with new parents, Sommy now had a sister as well, Ophelia Booker, she was 2 years older than them. The Bookers did their best to take care of Sommy and help them recover. Teenhood~ Sommy was a handful as a teenager. They were rebellious and often lashed out at those around them because they didn't know what else to do. Their parents tried to curb this behavior by signing them up for fighting classes, hoping that they wouldn't have to fight other kids then. In this time Sommy's powers were also developing, though they keep this mostly to themself in fear of being seen as a freak, especially by their new family. They didn't want their irrational fear of being abandoned because of being so terrible to come through. At the age of 16, both Sommy's parents were killed in a home invasion gone wrong. They were out with their sister at the time. They always suspected there was more to it than that though. A lot of evidence just didn't add up. Infuriated by everything getting swept under the rug, Sommy ran away hoping to find out the truth. AdultHood~ After killing the man who was directly responsible for their parents' death, Sommy realized that they couldn't go back home to Ophelia like this. They viewed themself as a horrible person and was at a loss of what to do with their life. They felt like they didn’t deserve their adopted family’s love so they started using the Childs name again. Spiraling down, they started taking jobs as bodyguards for low lives and then that escalated to doing hit jobs. During that time, they made friends with a monster of a back alley doctor nicknamed Needlehands who did just as much experimentation on people as he did actually patching them up. Obviously, Sommy raised him up to be their father figure. They also fell into business with a woman named Adelaide Creed. She ran an empire on the backs of criminals, getting her hands on anything she could use to further her power and wealth. As more of a personal project, she warped Sommy's sense of purpose and self-image and gaslighted them until they couldn't remember the person they used to be. She wanted Sommy to be her successor, especially after finding out about their abilities. Eventually managing to snap out of the bloody haze they had been in for seemingly years, Sommy realized how much of a monster Adelaide really was. They decided they needed to tear her down from the inside. It was around this time that Sommy started to notice vague reports about kids with strange abilities. Realizing there were more people like themself, Sommy started looking for answers, eventually realizing it was their parent’s drug that was causing the anomalies. They took it upon themself to help these kids and keep them out of the government’s, or anyone’s radar. By blackmailing a chemist with reports of him falsifying results causing children's deaths, Sommy managed to get a sort of reverse version of Endigo that nullified abilities for a short while. They still had all their parents research that they had stolen years ago. Sommy killed the chemist after he gave them instructions on how to make the stuff. They then set out to help as many kids as they could because if they weren’t gonna do it who was? They also saw it as fallout from their parents, which fell on them to clean up.

OldHood~ Sommy continues to deal with the anomalies even after they outlive everyone they had known. Due to their healing ability, they can’t really die and just focus on moving forward and doing what they can.

[beckahbear-1]

Hate You/Hate Me

Avi Kaplan x Reader ((Inspired by Standing By - Avi Kaplan. This is a great fanfic on wattpad, I recommend you go check it out!))

Summary: Reader is a rising star, asked to do a magazine cover shoot with acapella stars, Pentatonix.

Warnings: Fluff

I blinked twice before the news I had received registered in my brain. “Oh my gosh.” I said, in a dazed state. “Oh. My. Gosh.” I had just got a call from my agent, Eliza, saying that she had booked me as the opening act for Pentatonix on their next major tour. Me, being a singer ready to break out into the show biz, was extremely excited, naturally. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking. If this is some kind of prank…” I rambled. “(Y/N).” Eliza’s voice brought me back to reality. “You have a Photoshoot with them tomorrow, ok? So make sure you come down to the studio bit early for meeting PTX, and prep for the shoot, ok?” I nodded a couple times before I realized that she couldn’t see me. I face palmed and chuckled to myself. “Ok. Thank you so much, Liza. You don’t know how much this means to me.” I thanked her one last time before hanging up the phone. I sighed, falling back into the many pillows strewn across my bed, before bursting into tears of utter shock, and joy. This is my moment to become the person I’ve always wanted to be. ———————————————————— I woke up to the buzzing of my phone. Buzz. Buzz. I groaned in annoyance and let my head slip back into my pillow before reaching one hand out blindly to grasp for my phone. “Ouch!” I hissed, pulling my hand away from a nail that stuck up from my dresser. “Oh crap…” I mumbled as I noticed the blood start to drop from the scratch it left. I quickly got out of bed and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, using it to staunch the blood flow. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” I said. “I suppose I should bandage that.” I finished before realizing I was talking to myself. I grabbed some bandages from the first aid kit on the wall before beginning the process, hopping in the shower afterward. ———————————————————– “Up all night to get lucky…” I sang softly to the radio in the taxi. I was on my way to the studio where I would be meeting PTX, and let’s just say, I was pretty excited. I bounced in the seat before twirling my hands together nervously. As we pulled up outside the studio, I took a deep breath before paying the driver and walking inside with all the confidence I could muster. “Scott! Give it back!” As soon as I stepped in the doors, I heard a girl’s voice cry out. I lifted an eyebrow, confused as I rounded a corner towards the dressing rooms. In one of them, the members of Pentatonix were laughing and having fun, and Liza was there too. She soon spotted me and waved me over. I put a brave smile on my face and walked inside. “Hey! You must be (Y/N)! I’m Kevin, it’s great to meet you!” A friendly looking black guy said to me, standing up out of his spot on the couch. I smiled before nodding. “Nice to meet you Kevin. I’m looking forward to going on tour with all of you!” He smiled bebefore the rest of the group took notice of my existence. A girl with dark brown hair bounced over to me in her tall heels. “Hi!” She said, in an excited tone. “I’m Kirsten, but you can call me Kirstie. I’m really happy that I’ll have another girl on tour with us!” I grinned, her positive energy becoming contagious. “Hello there!” I turned around to see a man with brown hair and perfect white teeth. “I’m Mitch, nice to meet you.” I smiled. “Thanks, I’m super excited to be working with you!” He gave me a quick hug before walking over to the food bar on the opposite side of the dressing room. I smiled before rubbing my hand over the bandage. Hopefully they could do something about that in the pictures, because the bandage was pretty ugly. I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. I turned around before smiling. “Hi!” I said to the blonde man standing before me. “Hello, I’m Scott, it’s great to meet you finally.” I grinned and nodded before Mitch appeared and pulled me over to the couches. He plopped down beside a man with dark brown hair pulled into a bun with clear green eyes. He took a glance over at me and scratched his beard subconsciously. I smiled lightly, waiting for him to introduce himself. When he didn’t, I frowned. “Um, hi?” I said, looking at Mitch for an explanation. He shrugged before saying, “Avi, aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” The man, now named Avi, turned to me before nodding. I nodded in response, hearing MItch sigh. I stood up and Mitch followed suit, walking over to the food bar and standing beside Kirstie. She smiled at me and handed me a paper plate. I giggled, seeing as she knew exactly what I wanted. —————————————————————————————————————– Part 2 After pigging out for a half hour, the photoshoot was about to begin, but all I could wonder was why Avi seemed to hate me so much. I don’t think I ever did anything to him, so what reason does he have? I was pulled out of my thoughts when Kevin started talking to me. “Sorry, what?” I asked. “I wasn’t listening.” He smiled before starting over. “I said, the stylists are ready for you now. Kirstie will be in there with you though, so you won’t be alone.” I thanked him before walking over to a slightly smaller room off to the side. I pushed open the doors and was immediately pulled into a chair where Hairdressers and Makeup Artists were whirling around with brushes, and colours, makeup and curlers, dresses and shoes. The whole ordeal was a kind of blur. About 40 minutes later, my hair and makeup was done. They had done my makeup in a bold way. I had brown and gold eye makeup, long winged eyeliner, and long lashes. They’d painted my lips a deep red, and styled my hair to flow in dark curls down my back. I could hardly recognize myself, I looked that good. I looked over to my right to see that Kirstie was sat there. She had a darker shade of makeup and her hair was curled lightly. My jaw dropped at how utterly gorgeous she was. Hello, I’m jealous. She glanced over and smiled. “Hey.” She said. “Hi, sorry for staring, you just look amazing.” I gushed. She giggled. “Thanks! You look great too!” I thanked her and then I was rushed off to a clothing rack where a lady pulled a short burgundy dress, a little darker than my lips off the rack and handed it to me. I stared at it in amazement. It was far more expensive than any of the clothing I owned. It was a skater dress with a Peter Pan collar. The collar was embedded with gold studs, and a simple gold chain hung around the neck as a necklace. Once I put it on, I looked in the mirror again. It went down to about mid thigh, and the pair of heeled black suede booties made my legs look longer and more slender. I looked amazing and felt like it too. When I walked out into the studio, a green screen was set up, and Kevin, Mitch, Kirstie and Scott were talking together. Scott was in a navy button down, with black jeans and a black blazer. Mitch was in a dark green button down with black jeans, Kevin was wearing a light blue button down, with a dark grey cardigan. Kirstie was dressed similar to me, but a navy dress, with silver studs. Avi appeared soon after, dressed in a burgundy button down with his leather jacket. He walked slowly over to the rest of Pentatonix and waited patiently for the photographer. I watched him, wondering why he hated me. I scratched at the bandage on my hand before turning around as the door opened, the photographer walking in. He shook everyone’s hands before calling us over. I walked toward the back of the group, beside Mitch. “Don’t get too stressed over this. It’s just a couple hundred pictures.” He reassured me. I gave him an uneasy smile and tried to calm my nerves. We came to a stop in front of the screen and allowed the photographer to arrange us. The order from left to right was: Kevin, Avi, Me, Kirstie, Mitch, and Scott. We were all standing slightly turned together, my bandaged hand hidden slyly behind my back. After a few more group shots, the photographer decided he wanted one on one pictures. First, it was Mitch and I. He grinned and grabbed my hand, pulling me forward. Well this will be fun. I thought. We had to make these pictures look like scenes, for a magazine. The photographer had Scott, Mitch and I sat on a white leather couch, looking at a magazine. I was pointing to something in it, Mitch was staring at it in amazement and Scott was laughing. I don’t know why, but afterward we burst into laughter, and he got a couple of those shots as well. Kirstie was next. We were stood by a window (created by the green screen) and each had an earbud in our ears. Kevin was next. It turned out being a game of Jenga… Don’t ask how, but I won. Then the thing I’d been dreading most. Avi. I walked awkwardly toward him, and the chair that stood in a kitchen scene. The photographer motioned for Avi to sit down, and he did so without looking at me. I watched as the photographer placed props, then motioned for me to sit on Avi’s lap. I paled, then blushed as I walked over. Avi straightened his back and uncrossed his legs so I could perch myself across his lap. I did so, then crossed my legs, adjusting my dress. “Hands on her waist, please Avi!” The cameraman called out. I heard him let out a small puff of air before placing his large hands on my small waist. As we were about to take the picture, the photographer stopped us. “The bandage is just ruining it.” I sighed, remembering the bandage I had used this morning. Avi shifted me on his lap, keeping one hand on my waist, and taking my wrapped hand in his, my hand fitting perfectly, completely concealed. “Perfect!” The cameraman called, snapping a few shots. While he was doing this, Avi started humming a low melody. I leant back on his chest, listening. He truly was an amazing singer. I began humming a higher harmony and the whole room fell quiet, listening to 2 voices blend, creating a musical art. The silence ended with a click from the camera, and the cameraman saying. “I think we’ve found our cover photo.”