#and then a couple of sentences in i’m like ‘’ooh but what if there was some world building first 👀’’

[theflyingfeeling]

just uploaded my new fic titled tumbling in the hay on AO3, a little Midsummer treat for y'all, I hope you like it <3 🌿

(please read the tags (both on AO3 and here below) as well as the author's notes <3)

[miryum]

"The Box"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“I'm Lex Luthor.” A man strode into the precinct and rapped a fist on Damian’s desk. He was wearing a crisp suit and his bald head had been shined. “Detective L/n asked me to drop by.”

Damian’s eyes flickered up to the man before going back to his origami knives. He had found a new tutorial on YouTube that promised sharper cuts. “Mm, yes. The CEO who murdered someone. Spoiler alert: they think you did it.” He flagged down another officer. “Duke, can you show him to interrogation room C, please?” He waved to Lex and snickered. “Have fun in there.”

“Thank you.” Luthor drew his lips into a thin line.

A couple minutes later, Captain Wayne stood by Y/n as they watched Lex Luthor behind a two-way mirror. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“How uncomfortable this guy is,” Y/n replied. “I jacked up the thermostat, got the table all sticky, made one of the chair legs too short, and worst of all, I had Damian greet him.”

“What did you have him do?”

“I told him to be himself.”

Wayne shook his head. “Poor son of a bitch.”

Y/n glanced at her capitan before asking, “Why are you wearing a tuxedo? You look like Fred Astaire.”

“I take that as a high compliment, but I’m not off to sing the number one song of 1935, Cheek to Cheek, which was top of the charts for fifteen weeks and the following year was nominated for the Best Song Academy Award to The Way You Look Tonight.”

Y/n stared at him until she muttered, “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

“Clark and I are attending the opera,” Wayne explained simply.

“Ooh, the opera. Is it the one Bugs Bunny sings?”

“Yes.” Wayne turned away from Y/n and asked, “So, who's this?”

“Lex Luthor,” Y/n said proudly. “We have a clear motive, clear means, a nonexistent alibi, but the DA won't bring a charge because it's all circumstantial. If we wanna bring this guy down, we have to get him to confess right here, right now.”

Wayne raised a brow. “An interrogation with a ticking clock and everything on the line? I better call Clark and tell him I won't be attending the opera.” He pulled out his phone and began dialling. “There's someone else I'd rather hear sing.”

“Oh, damn!” Y/n covered her mouth appreciatively.

“Hello, Clark. I won't be joining you at the opera tonight-”

“Oh, sorry,” Y/n shushed herself. “I didn't know-” 

Wayne cut her off, saying, “it's under my name, W-A-Y-N…”

Y/n squinted at him and finished her sentence, “you were on the phone already….”

Wayne poured over the case file which stated facts, showed pictures, and other minute details. “You're right.” Wayne nodded. “He did it. But we have no murder weapon, no witnesses, and you really didn't find any usable forensic evidence?” He was doubtful that his best detective found nothing.

“The body was discovered rotting in Ocean View. It'd been rained on for weeks and chewed up by coyotes,” Y/n explained. ”The only other DNA other than the victim’s was some bear semen found in the hair.”

“Right. Who found the body?”

“Hikers,” Y/n replied. ”You're really just gonna blow past the bear semen detail?”

“I imagine a bear mistook the rotting corpse for a female of its species and had intercourse with it.” He waved her away. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It isn't?” Y/n stared at him, aghast. “I am fascinated by your life,” she whispered.

“Let's get in here.” Wayne cracked his knuckles. “Start working this guy.”

“Oh.” Y/n clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “You're gonna come in with me? I just thought maybe you'd watch from out here, you know, pull me out when I'm getting a little too hot, possibly?” She waved her hands around. “Call me a loose cannon. You know, classic captain stuff.”

“L/n, do you know what I miss about being a detective?” He answered his own question, “a good interrogation.” He clapped a fist into his open palm. “Breaking suspects down.” He lowered his voice. “Talking quietly and then talking real loud! Looking away and then looking right in their eyes.” His eyes flared at Y/n and then he leaned casually on the desk. “Leaning.”

“That was amazing,” Y/n gaped.

“So, can I join you?” Wayne straightened his cufflinks.

“Well, a lot of these techniques do work better with two people: you know, good cop-bad cop, crazy cop-sane cop, chill cop-ADHD cop. Wanna be ADHD cop?”

Capitan Wayne deadpanned, “I think you have that covered.” He turned away and said, “let's do this!”

Y/n strode into the interrogation room where Lex stopped fidgeting with his uneven seat. “Hello, Luthor.”

Lex hummed and greeted, “detective.”

“This is Captain Bruce Wayne,” Y/n gestured to Wayne who was brooding in the corner like a vigilante watching over their city. “He's a bit of a legend in interrogation circles. Hey, Cap-i-tan, who's the scariest person you've ever gotten a confession out of?”

“Abner Krill,” Wayne said. “He was known as Polka-Dot Man.”

Y/n’s nose scrunched up. “Okay, I thought it was gonna sound a little cooler, but whatever.” She clapped her hands together and sat down across from Lex. “So, shall we recap the night that Axel Granite was murdered? Friday the twenty second? I believe you were the last person to see him alive, correct?”

“No.” Lex raised a brow. “I'd imagine whoever killed him saw him after I did.”

“Ooh, nice dodge,” Y/n complimented and  leaned back in her chair. Finally; a challenge. “Tell us about Friday.”

“I had a late afternoon meeting.” Lex matched her stance, leaning back as well. He seemed relaxed- one leg was propped on the other, hands were loosely clasped on his lap, and eyes smiling. “A simple board meeting. It wrapped up around six o’clock, and Axel and I talked after. He had just wrapped up his last appointment.”

“And why do you have a doctor on sight?” Y/n asked.

“In case of any emergencies,” Lex answered easily. “We also take blood samples for some of the experiments we conduct at LexCorp, so we need him handy.”

“And who else was in the office?”

“My secretary and driver had gone home, and Cheryl, who‘s usually one of the last to leave, left early because her niece had a school play,” he explained.

“So it was just you and Axel? No witnesses?” Y/n hummed. “That's lucky.”

He shook his head. “Not lucky at all. There was nothing to witness. Axel just wanted to talk about firing one of our employees, Gretchen.”

“And that's all you discussed?” Y/n clarified.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nah.”

“Zero other subjects were mentioned?”

“None. We just talked about Gretchen.”

“Right.” Y/n squinted at him. “And, of course, there's no way for me to check if that's true, because whoever took Axel’s phone wiped all of his calendars. Except…” She flipped open her notepad and sucked a breath through her teeth. “It was all backed up on his home laptop. Would you like to hear what he said the meeting was about?” She cleared her throat and read aloud, “Seven P.M. talked with Lex about-" 

“Missing equipment,” Luthor finished. Once again, he mimicked Y/n and sucked in a breath. “Ooh. Did I get that right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n closed her notebook and said, “But ‘missing equipment’ hardly sounds like ‘firing Gretchen.’ So maybe you want to explain…”

“He thought Gretchen was stealing lab equipment. That's why he wanted to fire her.” He inspected his nails. “Any other questions?”

Wayne suddenly started chuckling. Honestly, Y/n had forgotten that he was there. “Boy, you really thought you had him with that one, huh?”

“Well, I…” Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“And you got so excited for it… Let me guess, you, ah, practised the notebook flip?” 

“Uh, Captain, something's come up in the case. Can I talk to you outside for a sec?” Y/n interrupted. Once they were outside, she cried, “What the hell are you doing in there? You totally undermined me.”

“I know, and I apologise.” Wayne held up a hand. “But I'm executing a strategy.”

“Oh, really, and what strategy might that be?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Make Y/n feel like an idiot?”

“No, I want Luthor to underestimate you and fear me. I'll badger him with my superior intellect, while simultaneously belittling you. Once Luthor dismisses you as a threat, I'll leave you alone with him, and he'll let his guard down.”

Y/n glared at him and mumbled, “ If I didn't know any better, I would say you're describing smart cop-dumb cop.”

“Look, I thought you had him on the calendar reveal,” Wayne conceded. “But he was a step ahead. You got flustered, and I realised in the moment we could use this to our advantage.”

“So what do you want me to do, ask stupid questions?” Y/n shrugged dramatically.

“Stupid questions, grammatical errors, lose your train of thought, just ask him to confess.” Wayne listed on his fingers. “This is not a comment on you, L/n. You’re a brilliant detective. I only want to bring this guy down.”

“Yeah, that's all I want too.”

“So, the night of the murder, you met with Robert in his doctor's office,” Y/n reiterated. “Why there? Why not your office which is much better suited for business meetings?”

“He was preparing for the next day's appointments. By taking the meeting in his office, we saved time. And time is money.” He mimicked tapping a watch.

“Right, and did…” Y/n trailed off. “Nevermind. I forgot what I was saying. Come back to me.”

Wayne swept in easily, “now, we did a sweep of the room where you and Axel fought-”

“Talked,” Lex corrected.

“Right. ‘Talked.’ The entire room had been scrubbed. It had undergone industrial sterilisation to remove all traces of blood and DNA.” Wayne crossed his arms.

“It's a doctor’s office,” Lex reminded them. “Blood draws happen every day. Per law, we have to sanitise it.”

“Ooh!” Y/n butt in. “I remembered what I was gonna ask. Did you kill him?”

“No,” Lex answered calmly.

Wayne redirected the conversation back on track. “So, after you and Robert fought-”

“Talked.”

“You left the office, but you didn't take your car?” Wayne asked.

“I went to a bar, The Scotchman,” Lex said. “I didn't want to drive drunk, so I took a cab. You know, like a responsible person.”

“And you didn't have your phone?” Clearly, Wayne didn’t believe this story.

“I left it charging in my office and I didn't realise till I was already out of the building,” Lex offered easily.

“Oh, man, if I go ten minutes without looking at my phone, my pumpkin crop dies on my little farm.” Y/n shook her head sadly.

“This is not the time for stories about your digital squash, L/n,” Wayne said sharply.

“What does it matter that I forgot my phone?” Luthor completely disregarded Y/n’s comments. A look of realisation dawned on his face and he chuckled, “I had it on me, you could've seen it pinging off the cell tower.”

“So you took a cab to this bar,” Wayne narrated. “However, we talked to the employees of The Scotchman. Nobody saw you there.”

“Nobody remembers seeing me,” Luthor pointed out. “It's not surprising nobody remembers seeing me. The bar was extremely crowded that night and I spent my whole time in the corner talking to this woman, Helen.”

Wayne hummed. “Oh, so you say. But when we ran all the credit card receipts, nobody named Helen bought any drinks that night.”

Lex chuckled and held up a hand. “Trust me, Helen wasn't buying her own drinks.”

Suddenly, Wayne’s phone rang and he said, “I need to deal with this. Let's take a five.”

“Or…” Y/n suggested slowly, “I could keep this interview going solo.”

“Yes,” Captain Wayne said after a moment. Luthor regarded their interaction closely. “I'm sure that'll be, um… pretty helpful.”

Once Wayne had left the interrogation room, Y/n sat herself down at the table and smiled broadly. “I have some questions,” she said brightly. “What kind of car did Robert drive?” She flipped open her notebook and suddenly rattled off, “also, what colour was Helen’s hair, which night does the cleaning crew sterilise your office, have you ever been to where the body was found, when you left your phone at the office was it plugged into your computer or an outlet, did you kill him, and what did your cab driver look like?”

Lex rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “This is a huge waste of time. But, here you go: Robert drove a Saab, Helen’s hair was brown, they sterilise on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I haven't been to Ocean View in twenty years, the phone was plugged into the wall, I did not kill him, and the cab driver had a beard and an earring… I'm sorry I didn't get his licence number.”

Y/n clicked her tongue and smirked. “Wow. Very impressive. You didn't even fall for my ‘did you kill him’ gambit.”

“Nope,” Lex grinned.

“Although,” Y/n tapped her chin. “It is interesting that you knew the body was found in Ocean View, New Jersey, when that information hasn't been released to the public yet.” When Luthor’s gaze flickered to her, Y/n muttered, “Got ya.” She laughed and said, “I can't believe you thought I was the dumb cop. I mean, Tim made me watch Planet Earth with the British narrator. I can tell you anything you want to know about three-toed slow-ths,” she said in a farcical manner. “I totally got you to say where the body was found, which kinda seems like something only the murderer would know.”

“Actually,” Luthor’ jaw twitched and he sat back. “Axel’s wife told me. I've been comforting her a lot lately. To help her through the pain.”

Y/n growled, “we asked her not to share that info, and she promised us she didn't.”

“Well, she's been distraught,” Lex said. “She might not remember.”

“Flimsy.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “So what did you mean when you said you hadn't been to Ocean View in twenty years?”

“My uncle has a cabin there. I would visit him as a kid.”

“So your uncle owns a cabin in the town where the bear-semened body was found. That is quite a coincidence,” Y/n commented.

“I haven't been there for twenty years. You can call my uncle if you want,” Lex waved his hand.

“Oh, we are.” Y/n nodded reassuringly. “So you might as well just confess now, or we can take our sweet time like the mer-jestic slow-th.” Her British accent came out once again. “Either way, we've got you.”

“We don't have him,” Y/n sighed behind the two-way glass. 

“Luthor’s uncle said he hasn't been to the cabin in months and he hasn't spoken to Luthor in over a year,” Wayne said, tapping on his phone.

“What about the neighbours?” Y/n asked.

“There's only one other house on that road and we haven't been able to contact the owner.”

Y/n poked her tongue in her cheek. “Yeah, but Lex doesn't know that. If we tell him the neighbour saw him that night, he'll crack for sure.”

Wayne glared at her. “You want us to lie?”

“No,” Y/n sassed. “I want me to lie and you to stand behind me and say, three ‘oh damns’ when I defeat him.”

“There will be no ‘oh damns.’” Wayne said, “we're not lying.”

“The Supreme Court said that we're allowed to lie in an interrogation,” Y/n argued. “Couple of days ago I told a perp I knew Selena Gomez. It had absolutely nothing to do with the case, but I can say it.”

Wayne shook his head. “What if Luthor never went to the cabin? Suppose you're wrong. Then Luthor knows we have nothing. There goes our credibility and our leverage.” He scratched his nose. “No, we need a different strategy. Admittedly, all this dental talk has given me an idea.”

Y/n barged into the room and announced, “We have a few more questions for you, genius.”

Wayne snickered. “Genius.” Luthor slowly turned to look at him. “It's funny when people call businessmen ‘geniuses.’ Especially male CEO’s.”

“I had to build my company from the ground up,” Lex said.

“That doesn’t make you a genius,” Wayne retorted.

“I have an IQ of two hundred twenty four.” Luthor smirked. “Does that qualify?”

Wayne’s jaw ticked. “Have you made any notable contributions to science? Have you discovered a new element? Building up a business hardly qualifies you.”

“My company has contributed to many scientific endeavours, thank you very much.” Luthor’s voice was tense and Y/n’s eyes flickered between the two men. 

“But were you the one actually experimenting?” Wayne pounded a fist on the table and it rattled. “We live in a society where CEOs take credit for the things-” A few moments later, Wayne was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” His cufflinks were undone and his tie was loosened.

“Yeah, apparently.” Y/n handed him a glass of water. “So… now can we lie?”

“No. But you know what works? Making him confront his victim.”

“Look your dead friend in the eyes and say his name,” Y/n demanded, holding up a picture of Axel Granite.

Luthor looked at the picture. “Axel.”

“Okay, maybe say his full name,” Y/n suggested.

“Axel Granite.”

“His middle name's Holt.”

“Axel Holt Granite.”

“His wife called him Axe. Work that in.”

“Axe Granite.”

“Work it into the full name.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Now say it with a frown on your face.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Don’t blink so tears come to your eyes.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Man, this guy is a good murderer!” Y/n cried once she and Wayne were back behind the two-way glass.

“There's got to be some way to break him.” Wayne rubbed at his temples.

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Wait a minute. I just had an idea.”

Y/n held a guitar and chanted, “two, three, four!” She strummed the guitar haphazardly and started screaming loudly. 

“Yeah, I really gotta stop trying that.” In the viewing room, Y/n set the guitar aside, huffing out a breath. “It never works.”

“Tell us more about your relationship with Axel.”

Lex exhaled. “We've been over this a thousand times,” he said. “We got along well. I mean, we disagreed sometimes, but we had a good partnership.” Luthor smirked and muttered, “he never, for instance, skipped a party so he could micromanage me as I tried to do my job. That's what's happening here, right?” He pointed towards the two officers. “That's why you're wearing the tuxedo?”

“I skipped the opera, not a party,” Bruce said. ”It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it's the Bugs Bunny one!” Y/n piped up.

“And I'm not here to micromanage anyone,” Wayne frowned. “I'm here because I enjoy interrogating scum.”

“You don't think the fact that he skipped the opera has anything to do with him not believing in you?” Lex asked slowly.

“He believes in me!” Y/n defended before pointing an accusing finger at the CEO. “You're not interrogating us. We're interrogating you. Tell us about the missing equipment! If Gretchen didn't take it, then who did? Because we're pretty sure it was you. Honestly, it could have been any of your employees. They all have access to the storage room.”

“You know, it's silly, but, uh…” Luther glanced up at them knowingly. “I trust the people who work for me.”

“Captain Wayne is only here because I want him here,” Y/n said.

“Really?” He pointed at Y/n. “So you're in charge? And all these strategies have been your ideas?”

Y/n stuttered and then said after a moment, “the guitar thing was mine.”

“And you signed off on that?” He then pointed at Wayne.

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Y/n turned towards him and scoffed, “seriously?”

“I just feel bad for you,” Luther shook his head. “Your boss thinks you're an idiot; that can't feel good.”

“Alright, listen,” Y/n snarled. “You son of a bitch, you think you're smarter than us? You think you've gotten away with it? You haven't.” She wagged her finger. “Imma find something. One skin cell, one eyelash, one tiny inconsistency in your story, and you're gonna spend the rest of your life in prison. Everyone who loves you will leave, and you will die alone! And at that time, it will be your head that a bear has sex with!” A few moments later, Y/n was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” Her sleeves were rolled up and she tugged at her collar.

“Yeah, apparently.” Wayne handed her a glass of water. 

“He just gets us so riled up!” Y/n complained. She furrowed her brows and stared at nothing for a minute before murmuring, “I got it. I got it!”

“He's not answering any questions,” Luther’s lawyer, who had just joined him, said firmly as Y/n burst into the room.

“That's okay.” Y/n grinned. “I have no questions. That's right. I'm about to monologue, son!” She snapped her fingers theatrically.

“You better make it quick,” the lawyer said. “You have eight minutes until I file a harassment claim.”

“Alright, let me paint you a picture.” Wayne strode into the room and stood in the corner, arms crossed, listening to Y/n. “Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp, has been stealing equipment from his own labs.”

“Why would I steal from my own labs?” Luthor asked incredulously.

“What’s the point of this?” His lawyer demanded.

”I'll get there,” Y/n held a finger up. “One day, I'm working late when my colleague, Axel Granite, surprised me. He found out I was stealing equipment and said he's gonna file a police report. My reputation could be ruined. We fight, and something in me just snaps, so I grab the first thing I can find and I hit him with it.”

“You still have no murder weapon,” the lawyer reminded her.

“I do now.” Y/n slammed a picture down on the table. “I found a picture on Yelp of the doctor’s office six months ago, and here is a shot that our crime scene photographer took of the same room two weeks after the murder.” She slammed down another photo. “Notice any differences?” she asked.

“We're not answering that,” the lawyer said.

“That's all right, I can just tell you myself.” Y/n shrugged before continuing, “the Yelp picture has six of these glass awards in the background, whereas this shot only has five. What happened to number six?” Y/n asked rhetorically. “Murdered Axel with it!”

“I didn't,” Lex glared.

“You lost all control and you bludgeoned him to death,” Y/n, true to her word, kept monologuing. “There must have been blood everywhere, but you got lucky. You never would have gotten away with it in your carpeted office!”

“That's not what happened.” Luthor’s hands curled into fists.

“Don't say anything, Lex,” his lawyer reminded him.

“And Cheryl would’ve heard all of the screaming but she was at her niece's play. Lucky again.”

“You're wrong.”

“You put Axel’s body onto a dolly and shoved it in the elevator. It's a miracle there wasn't blood everywhere.”

“That's not true!” Luther insisted.

“Now you're in the garage with a corpse. You panicked and left your phone in your office and you don't have your car keys, but Axel’s are in his pocket so you put him in his car and take off.”

“No.”

“You simply can't believe what you've done.” She fans her face dramatically. 

“No.”

“Luthor,” his lawyer placed a hand on his forearm.

“You're flustered,” Y/n placed a hand on her forehead, faux swooning. “You have no GPS, so you just start driving.”

“No!” Lex pounded the table.

“Lex! Stop!” his lawyer cried.

“Next thing you know, you're in Ocean Views, and it hits you: your uncle's cabin! He has a place there. You're the luckiest son of a bitch ever.”

“It wasn't luck!” Luthor shouted and Y/n’s jaw twitched.

“Yes, it was,” she laughed. “You got lucky at every turn!”

“No!” Luthor fumed, slowly rising from his seat. ”I knew exactly where I was driving, I left my phone in the office on purpose, I was in the doctor’s office by design, and I didn't use some glass award that any idiot would clearly see was missing. In fact, a cleaner had broken it a week before!” He leaned forward on his fists, rings shining fully in the dim light. “I made a rod out of lab glass, killed him with it, then melted it back down. It's already another test tube, son!” His face morphed into one of shock and he fell back into his seat. His lawyer’s eyes widened before rubbing him sympathetically on the back.

Wayne’s mouth dropped open and he mumbled, “oh, damn.” In a louder voice he repeated, “oh, damn.” Shocked, the police captain cried out, “oh, damn!”

Y/n spun her finger in the air victoriously. “And that is three oh damns!” she shouted out. In a whisper, she said, “I feel so cool right now. Like I’m in a fanfic.”

[pholla-jm]

My Husband

IMAGINE: MY HUSBAND GENRE: FLUFF characters: satoru, megumi, yuji, nanami, suguru cw: gn reader. use of wife. not proof read. **************

Gojo Satoru:

You hear an audible gasp from behind you, while you start to pay the cashier. 

As soon as you finish paying, you turn around to face Satoru who has a glowing grin on his face. 

“What’s the matter with you?” You ask him. 

“Nothing….wifey.” 

You side-eye him, “Wifey?” 

“Yeah, you called me your husband. So it’s only right that I call you my wifey.” 

“Ohh, did I call you husband?” 

Satoru slings an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in closer. 

“Here you go.” The worker says while handing you the order. 

“Thank you.” 

“Isn’t my wifey so beautiful?” He tells the worker. 

Your face burns up at his words. 

“Oh my god…”  you mutter under your breath. 

“Ignore him, please.” You tell the worker, and they nod at you in thanks. 

You grab the items, hand Satoru the kikufuku, and walk away. 

“Wait up, wifey!” He shouts after you roll your eyes. 

“Don’t worry.” He says after catching up to you, “one day you’ll be able to call me your husband one day.”

Megumi:

The both of you were planning a date until you bumped into some friends. 

Megumi didn’t say anything. He only stood behind you, on his phone barely paying attention to the conversation. 

He didn’t care what was happening, but he sure wished you would hurry up. 

It was like one of those situations when your mom sees an old friend and they talk forever. 

He wasn’t paying attention until he heard your last sentence. 

“Well, I have to go. My husband and I are supposed to go on a date.” You say and Megumi feels his heart jump at your words. 

“Let’s go,” you say while grabbing Megumi’s arm and dragging him away.

You glance over at him, noticing the pink shade on his face. You shove him a little, gaining his attention. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Megumi shakes his head. 

“Are you sure? You’re kind of pink.”

“Yeah… it’s your fault.” He mutters but you are still able to hear him.

You let out a small laugh, “how is it my fault?”

“You know.” 

You were silent for a bit and then you realized. 

“Oh! I called you husband, didn’t I?” 

Megumi didn’t answer, but the redness on his cheeks was enough of an answer. 

You let out another giggle, “oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I like it.” Megumi whispers and you freeze. 

Now it’s your turn to turn red in the face.

Yuji Itadori:

“Ooh, ooh. Right now would be a great time for a picture.” You say pulling out your phone. 

The sky was setting into a beautiful sunset. The sky is full of colors purples, pinks, and oranges. 

Flipping the phone over to selfie mode; you point it towards Yuji and you. 

Yuji largely grins at the phone, squishing his face against yours. His infectious smile caused you to grin so large that your cheeks turned pink. 

You snapped the picture, happily looking at the picture of you two. 

“Awe, this is so cute. You’re so cute.” You say while getting ready to post it on every single one of your social media. 

“No, you’re cuter.” 

“No way. My husband is so much cuter.” You mutter and Yuji’s eyes widen. 

“Husband?!”

He leans over, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

You didn’t answer him. 

“Did you call me your husband?” 

“Hmm,” you turn your head, “oh. Oops. I guess I did.” 

Yuji plants a kiss on your cheek. “It’s okay. I like the sound of it. Husband. And you’ll be my wife! Oh, imagine just having my last name.” 

You laugh, “Oh Yuji, I’ve already been imagining your last name with my name. (y/n) Itadori. Sounds cute, right?” 

Yuji looks at you with a love-struck look. 

“You’re amazing.”

Nanami:

Nanami is a gentleman at heart. Always offering to run errands with you to lessen your carry load. 

Nanami was pushing the cart, while you were reading over the list. 

Nanami peeks over at your list, “oh. You forgot to add our tea to the list.” “We’re running low?” “Yeah.” “Oh, I didn’t know.” 

“Awe, what a cute couple.” You hear a lady’s voice say. 

The both of you turn to the voice, seeing an older couple. 

Both of them looking at you in complete adoration. 

Reminiscing on the old days that they shared together. 

You smile at them, “thank you. My husband is just the best.” 

Nanami’s eyes widen hearing your words. 

“Awe, just so cute.” The old lady says before her and her husband walk away. 

Nanami grabs onto your hand, grabbing your attention. 

“Husband?” He asks and your eyes widen too. “Oops, did I say that out loud?” 

He chuckles and nods his head. Your face slowly turns red at the realization. “Uh, well. I didn’t mean it. Well maybe I did? Well I do know that I want to marry you one day, and I know that we’re not actually married right now. So I don’t know why I said husband but-” 

Nanami suddenly cuts you off by leaning down and snatching the air right out of your mouth. 

He pulls away, and you’re too stunned to speak. He always seemed to know what to do when you ramble. 

“It’s okay darling. I plan on marrying you someday too.”

Suguru Geto:

Suguru is the best man you could ever ask for. 

He can always predict your needs before you even need it. 

That’s why you’re head laid in his lap, his hand massaging through your hair. Fingers massaging at your scalp. Smoothing out any knot or soreness that weighed you down. 

The small moans you released from time to time were borderline pornographic. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good. 

“Ugh, you’re the best husband ever.” 

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even stop it. 

You could feel his hands stop moving and you began to get nervous that you freaked Suguru out. 

Your eyes opened and you began to sit up. 

“I am so sorry, I didn’t-” 

Suguru just smiles at you, pushing your head back down into his lap. 

You tense up a little bit, not knowing what to do. 

He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay. I see you as my wife as well.” 

A large grin breaks out on your face, “really?” 

“Really. Once I save up enough money, you’ll have the best engagement ring in the world.” 

You giggle, “I don’t need the best engagement ring. I only need you.” “Well, you deserve the best. So I’m going to make sure you get the best.” 

“I already have the best, right in front of me.”

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

One More Chance

[pairings] : Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

[Summary]: You and Tara broke up after what happened, but multiple months later, she realizes what mistake she had made and try to fix it.

[Warnings]: Swearing, kissing, hooking-up

A/N: Wow, this turned out even shittier then i expected. But i'll post it anyway.

You and Tara were the perfect couple in Woodsboro high. Your friends supported you guys whenever. You were living your best life, it was like a dream. Until, it all turned into a nightmare. Tara was attacked by some psycho and you weren’t there. Later when you found out, you did not waste any time and ran to the hospital. There, you promised her that you will always be there to protect her.

-------------------------------------------------------

And you are still there. But you can’t really make your whole life about her. It wasn’t fair. After she broke up with you, claiming that she needs some time, she still asked you to go to New York with her. Although you were a complete wreck, you tried helping her through the trauma. 

On this specific day the whole group went out for a little time together. You guys are sitting in a lovely cafe, just talking. Well, most of you were. Tara and Chad were sitting beside each other, a little too close. Tara was looking up at Chad with a small twinkle in her eyes, as he was telling her some shit story about something. You looked away from them with a sigh.

‘I need some time’ my ass. She just wanted an excuse to break up with you. You put your coffee down and rub your face with your hands. You lean over to your new-found best friend and whisper to her.”I’m going to the bathroom” Quinn nods, but puts a hand on your arm to stop you. “Everything okay?” She asks with furrowed eyebrows.

You give her a quick smile and nod then get up and head towards the bathroom. As you get out of the stall you were in, you notice a woman standing in-front of the mirror, fixing her make-up. Going over to the sinks, you nod at her in a way of greeting her. She smiles at you then turns sideways to look at  you. 

“Are you alone here?” You look at her from the corner of your eye with a slight furrow in your brows, but shake your head nonetheless. “Oh, are you on a date?”

You finish washing your hands and take a piece of paper towel to dry them. “ No. I’m out with some friends, why?”

The woman takes a step towards you. She reaches into her purse and takes out a piece of paper and a pen. You tilt your head as she writes down something.”Well, I personally found you really….sexy and I'm in need of a good-time, so would you be up to it later tonight?” You purse your lips as you look down at the piece of paper with her number on it.

“I don’t even know your name.” 

The woman chuckles.”Oh sorry, my bad. My name is Victoria. You?”

“Y/N” She hums and holds the paper out for you once more. Biting your lip, you  hesitantly take the paper. Victoria smiles at you then heads towards the door.

Swallowing, you head out of the bathroom and back to your table. Sitting down beside Quinn with a smile on your face. She laughs at you. “What’s got you suddenly in a happy mood?” 

You just hold the paper up to her face and she gasps. “Ooh, is she hot?” 

“Very” You guys continue laughing as Tara’s attention is turned towards you. She bites the inside of her cheek as she notices the piece of paper with the number on it on the table.

— —

Later at home, you decide to dial Victoria’s number. It rings for a couple of seconds then her raspy voice answers. “Hello?” 

“Uh, hi. I-it’s Y/N? From the cafe?” 

“O, yeah. Hey, should I give you my address or….?” She trails off.

“Yours is fine. I have a couple of roommates.” You laugh lightly at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, see you in around a half an hour.” With that she hangs up and not even a minute later, you get a message with the address. 

You get ready and head out. After about 15 minutes, you arrived at the address. Getting out of the taxi after paying, you go up to the door and ring the bell. Victoria opens the door with only a robe on and two glasses of wine in her hand. 

“Well, you’ve got quite a big house”You laugh nervously as she smirks looking at you up and down. Suddenly, she grabs your shirt and pulls you inside. 

— — 

The next morning, you wake up with the worst headache of your life. Sitting up in the bed, you look around and your eyes land on a sleeping form beside you. You almost choke on your own spit then try to quietly get out of the bed. As soon as you do so, you notice your lack of clothing. After gathering your clothes and dressing up, you pick up your phone to see the time. ‘ 4:29 ‘. You shut your eyes as your headache somehow gets worse. 

Walking out of the room, you are met with the inside of a fucking mansion. You gulp and start walking down the stairs. Downstairs, you see some wine spilled on the beautiful white carpet and your face crunches up in pain. Putting on your shoes and walking out of the mansion, you call a taxi. It arrives and you get in, telling the driver your address.

By the time you arrive it’s almost 5 in the morning. Hopefully, everyone is still asleep.

As you walk inside silence welcomes you and you let out a sigh of relief. You go to the kitchen for some pain killers then after swallowing them, you let your body fall onto the couch while turning on the TV and turning the volume down.

Around an hour later you hear multiple footsteps. A few seconds later, you feel a presence behind you. You look up and see Mindy.” Y/N! When did you come home last night?” She says, sitting down beside you.

“Uhh, late.”

She laughs and looks back at her girlfriend, who is currently in the kitchen making breakfast with Tara. You glance at her then follow her line of sight. As soon as your eyes land on Tara, you can’t look away. Her hair was messy and she was wearing an oversized T-shirt with shorts, while talking to Anika. You and Mindy stare at the two girls in awe, until she tears her eyes away from Anika and looks at you. 

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” 

You look at her with a confused face. “ I thought we weren’t going?” 

“Oh, but we are. Come on! It will be fun.”

You bite your lip and take a quick glance at Tara once again, only this time Chad is there. And they are laughing and giggling. Again. You clench your jaw, but suddenly an idea pops into your head. “ Alright. I’ll go”

Mindy cheers and holds her hand up, waiting for you to high-five her. You shake your head at her childishness while giving her a high-five.

In the evening you head over to Quinn's room, first making sure she is alone, then knocking. Quinn opens the door and smiles. “Heyyy, what’s up? “ Then she gasps. “Are you going to the party?” 

Grinning back at her, you reply. “Yep. And I need you to help me get ready. “ She raises her eyebrows. “ What? You can’t put on a fucking costume?” You glare at her before answering. 

“No, I just need you to do my make-up.”

“Oh, okay. Come in” You do so and go to sit on her bed, but remember what she usually does and choose to sit in her chair instead.

While she looks for her make-up supplies, you decide to tell her about Victoria. “ Sooo, I hooked up with the woman from the cafe. “ She turns to you.

“Really?” You nod

“But I fell asleep and had to come home quickly. And she had this fucking mansion! “ Quinn looks at you with wide eyes. “What?!” She nearly shouts. “I mean all I ever get is, dump college dudes with barely 5 dollars in their pocket and you pull a motherfucking mistress? “ You laugh.

“Just do my make-up already!” She Puts up her hands and steps closer to you.

After she is done, you leave her room and put on your costume in yours, walking out, you notice that everyone was already in their costume lingering around the living room.  “Oh, were you guys waiting for me?”

Mindy speaks up.” Yeah, but not for that long. Come on, let’s go.”She gestures towards the door and slowly every one of you leaves. As you are looking at each of your friends' costumes, your eyes land on Tara.  Your jaw drops slightly. She was fucking breath-taking in her pirate costume. For the rest of the walk, you stay a little behind just so you can admire her.

When you arrive at the party, the music is blaring and a bunch of college students are dancing and drinking. The mixed smell of sweat and booze fills your nose as you step inside, immediately you feel suffocated by the amount of people in the small apartment.

Your friends go over to the couch in the middle of the room, while you excuse yourself to get a drink. Grabbing one of the red plastic cups, you pour some beer in it.You stand there for a while, drinking a couple cups of beer and taking shots of tequila. When you are done, you turn around only to bump into someone. Luckily, your beer didn’t spill. Letting out a grunt before looking up, your eyes widen at the tall boy before you. 

“Oh my god, I am so fucking sorry! Are you okay?” You look at him and smile slightly while taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, I-I’m fine.” He laughs nervously, looking down at you.

He bites his lip and thinks for a moment. “How can I make it up to you?” 

You look at him with a confused face.”What would you have to make up for? Nothing happened!” You let out a breathy laugh. He just shook his head. “ Please “ Glancing back at your friends, you see Tara whispering something into Chad’s ear and he smirks and chuckles at her. 

“You know what? I would really like to dance” You quickly chug your drink and take his hand harshly. 

“O-Okay, b-by the way I’m Asher! “ He shouts over the loud music. You start moving your body to the beat. “Y/N!” He grins and starts dancing with you. At first, it’s  light touches while you are rocking your body, then he starts grabbing your waist and hips. You push your body closer to him.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. Coping with the break up with hooking up and drinking. But you couldn’t help it. Back then, she was basically all you had- and of course your friends- and she left, well not really. But you don’t really talk anymore and it’s killing you.

Soon, Asher feels your body tense up and he stops dancing. “Are you okay?” You just nod mindlessly at him, trying to pull a smile on your face. You can see he isn’t convinced, but could care less as you continued moving your body. Asher sighs softly then grabs your hand and pulls you aside where the music is quieter.  

“Listen, I can’t do this if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He raises his eyebrows at you. You bite your lip and look at the floor.”I-......I’m sorry, okay? I just..” You sigh while looking up at him. “ I just can’t bear the sight of her with someone else. Even if they are not dating and I try to cope with it by….whatever this is.”

“Oh………okay.”There is a long pause as he takes in your body with your arms crossed and your fingers tapping the side of them.”Look, we can go to my dorm, clean you up because you are obviously drunk, then talk, hmm? I think I can help you, but only if you want me to.” You nod hesitantly and he smiles at you, taking your hand while heading towards the door when you remember your friends. 

“Wait! What about my friends,”

“Well, you could just text them after we got to my dorm?” You nod and continue walking, a little dizzy. 

— —

 Asher opens the door to his dorm and lets you inside. He goes in after you and closes the door. You look around and note that the room has a rather comforting vibe. He gestures to his bed and you sit down. He goes to his closet and takes out a hoodie. Asher tosses it to you then walks over, sitting down next to you. You put on the hoodie.

“So, tell me the whole story.” You look at him, hesitation and fear in your eyes. He huffs.”Come on! I won’t tell anyone. “ His reassuring smile makes you give in.

As you finish your story, you look up at Asher to find his eyes wide and jaw dropped. A couple seconds of silence later, he speaks up. “ Oookay. So do we agree that she definitely did not break up with you because she needed some time. Like, girl, What the fuck? That either was an excuse or…” He claps his hands together. “ She was afraid of you breaking up with her and she did i instead!”

You laugh at him and nod. “Right, right, but now give me your idea so that I can win her back again?” 

He scrunches his nose” That sounded weird, but sure. I think maybe we could make her jealous by ….uh,...” He trails off as he thinks of something. You are looking at him waiting for him to continue. Suddenly, he gasps. “You could spend the night, then the next morning we could go back to your apartment and just go in your room, and I don't know, like put on music and do our thing, but they don’t know that!” He smiles proudly as he finishes telling his plan.

“Well, I mean…It could work”

He grins at you and wraps an arm around your shoulder from the side. “Then let’s do that!” You laugh and pull out your phone to text Mindy.

— —

The next morning you, once again, wake up with a headache. Groaning, you sit up while holding your head. Asher walks in with two mugs. “Morning!” He sits down beside you and hands you a mug and some pain killers. “So, you fell asleep on my bed so I slept on the small couch” You look at him apologetically, but he just shakes his head. “ Anyway, you should hurry. We have to get our plan into action!” Asher throws his free hand up in the air.

Later, you are sitting in Asher’s black Dodge Challenger, heading towards your apartment. You fidget nervously with your hands as you look out the window. Before you know it, you are met with the familiar sight of your apartment building. “Is this it?” You turn to Asher and nod. Sighing, you open the door and get out, Asher following suit.

You walk in and start going up the stairs. When you arrive, your shaky hands drop your keys and you look at Asher behind you and laugh then pick them up, unlocking the door.

As soon as you step inside, you are met with an angry Sam and your eyes widen. Asher looks over your head and gulps at the sight of the furious woman.

“Where the fuck were you?!” 

“A-at a friend’s” You stutter out. 

“ And you could not fucking tell the others about that before going?!”

“I did! I texted Mindy that I’m staying at a friend’s dorm and that I don't know when I’m getting back. “ Sam just shakes her head and walks away. You don’t even look at the others, just walk towards your room, Asher following you.

Shutting the door behind you, you turn to him. “You sure this is gonna work?” 

He shrugs and you scoff. “Hey! It usually does!” You just shake your head and turn on some music on your speakers.

A couple hours later, Asher had to go. He wished you good luck then headed out. Now you were gathering the courage to go out of your room for a drink. When you think you’re ready, you open the door and take quick steps to the kitchen. As you are doing your drink, you could feel the others staring at you. When you’re done, you just simply go back to your room.

In the living room, Mindy watches as Tara’s eyes follow you. She scoffs and groans. Suddenly pulling Tara aside.”I really don’t know what the fuck you two are doing, but you should stop it now! You seriously like two children! Just fucking talk to her, T!”

“But-”

“Don’t even say it. That random guy and her have no fucking chemistry! You two did…fuck that, still do. So just go” Mindy pushes Tara forward and she starts walking to your room.

Mindy goes back to the others as they stare at her. She looks at them”What? It had to be done.”

Tara knocks on your door and you open it. You smile at her. “Hey, Tara! What’s up?” You hope she can’t hear the nervousness in your voice. “Hi, can I come in?” You nod and let her in.

She sits down on your bed and you sit beside her.”Look, I-...’m sorry”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What for?” 

Tara closes her eyes then opens them to look at you. “ For everything. I mean, we went through some deep shit together, that I dragged you into, and then broke up with you, started ignoring you, although you were also going through some shit. But by the time I realized this, it was too late.”

You shake your head and take one of her hands. “It’s not your fault”

“Oh, stop with that bullshit. It is and you have to know that I want to make it right. I–.....I just want another chance” Tara looked at you with pleading eyes.

You smile at her and your eyes jump between hers and her beautiful red lips. She smirks as she notices and pushes her body closer, taking your face in her hands. The music is muffled by the sound of your own heart beating in your throat. You start leaning in and when your lips finally meet hers, you let out a sigh of relief. You missed her so much. Your hands traveled up her shoulders and went to her face. Tara hummed into the kiss. Butterflies were flying around in your stomach, making you nauseous. Tara had them too, and she smiled into the kiss. 

After a minute, you pull away as she smiles at you, then says. “Sooo, is this a yes?” You just giggle and nod your head, leaning in once again.

You finally can be with her again. It feels unreal. To have her back in your embrace after all this time. Getting to kiss her soft lips again. She was just as happy as you and she made sure you knew that in the future.

[chloessleepystories]

Rabbit Hole

Based on a true story

Zoe was slumped down in the back row of the classroom, scrolling through Tumblr on her phone instead of paying attention to the teacher. Like usual.

Oh, here’s a sexy picture to share. Here’s a gif to attach a few lines of dialogue to… She liked teasing the boys (and girls) online, and they liked teasing her. Especially when she was in class and couldn’t do anything about her rising horniness.

Oooh, a hypno story, her favorite. She checked that the teacher was droning on, and not looking her direction, and started reading. Just a couple paragraphs in, she knew it was a good one. She reblogged it to finish reading later, and to share it with her followers (her many, many followers… how had that happened?) and kept scrolling. Ooh! A spiral! Don’t get distracted… But uunnnfff, so easy to get distracted… to get drawn in…

She shook herself, sharing the spiral with a drooling smiley face, and moved on.

“I’m a little concerned, looking at your last batch of papers, that so many of you got to college without apparently learning how to punctuate a simple compound sentence, much less to fill it with original thoughts…” Miss Thompson was saying.

Zoe squeezed her thighs together, feeling the arousal spread through her body. She looked around. Nobody looking. Good. She knew she should be listening, should be taking notes, but all she could think about was her needy pussy.

The constant alerts from her phone kept drawing her back to the glowing rectangle in her hand. BUZZ. Another favorite blog had just shared something, Tumblr wanted her to know. BUZZ. Someone was tagging her in a pic of one of her favorite porn stars. BUZZ… 

She was powerless. She had to look, every time the phone buzzed. Every time Tumblr fed her more. She didn’t used to be like this, did she? She used to have, like, an attention span and stuff? Could leave her phone alone for a few hours? Now she was addicted… like she had conditioned herself to salivate at the buzzer. 

Or been conditioned, came a whisper. 

Been brainwashed. 

Cuntwashed.

Drippy cunt. Salivating pussy…

BUZZ. 

Ooh! a hot little gif that someone wanted her to see – “wanna ride me like this?” he asked, adding Zoe’s handle. Where was the teacher? Zoe knew she should scan for Miss Thompson again, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

BUZZ BUZZ. Three more guys wanting to talk to her privately. She was already keeping four conversations going…

This one, for instance, was telling her, in detail, what he would be doing to her if they were in a hotel room together right now. She was giving as well as she was getting, egging him on, hoping he was stroking to her words the way she wished she could be rubbing to his. This one was begging her to punish him, and reveling in her attempts to be domineering. And this one… oh, this one kept sending spirals, and inductive texts, drawing her ever downward (or trying to), making her sleepy, making her horny… making her a mindnumbed cockslave…

She tapped the little pencil symbol to make a public post.

“You guys are making me so horny!!!” she typed.

I’m supposed to be paying attention to the teacher right now but my tumblr feed is full of porn and 3 of you fuckers are having hot conversations with me trying to make me horny and IT’S FUCKING WORKING I’m sure my neighbors can smell me I’m so turned on I can feel how drippy I am goddammit I need to stroke I’m not gonna make it

That was a mistake, of course. As she knew it would be. The sharks smelled blood in the water, and circled.

“Just keep watching little slave. Soon you’ll be my little cock hungry whore”

“It’s just so nice to be able to turn off your brain for a while, ya know? Join me?”

“And when I say “horny bunny” you’ll have a powerful urge…”

“Mmm damn what a view! Your nice tight pussy wrapped around my cock feels so damn good. I’m going to enjoy fucking you hard, bottoming out hitting your womb”

“…And then one day you wake up and you’re an empty headed pink bimbo, with no thoughts in your dumb bimbo head but getting bigger tits and pleasing your Mistress’s pussy…”

Another public post:

Ogod now ur all piling on cumming our of the woodwork why csnt i turn off this app why do i keep lookin im not gonna make it im such a dumb hotny cow 

Sent.

And back to messaging, the words pummeling her brain –

Blank. Obedient. Responsive. Counting from 10. Letting your mind slide away. Relaxed. Empty. No thoughts. 8. Letting go….

Then, even before she could register the shadow over her desk, a hand snatched the phone from her fingers.

“You know the rules about phones in my class, Zoe,” said Miss Thompson. Zoe made a choked whimper, her fingers mindlessly twitching after the phone.

“You can get it back later. If you’re good.”

If you’re good. If you’re a good girl. Good girls obey.

Zoe whimpered again, as Miss Thompson walked away. She was going to have to sprint to the ladies’ room when class was over. The phone would have to wait. Her clit was throbbing… and she needed to obey.

*****

Later, after everyone had filed out, Miss Thompson carefully and (BUZZ) meticulously wiped clean the blackboard. She liked the board to be as neat (BUZZ) and tidy as her desk.

(BUZZ)

What on earth was – Oh. Right. That girl’s phone was still on the desk. Vibrating away, for some unknown reason.

She sat down and picked it up, turning it on. Silly child didn’t seem to have a lock on the –

A rainbow of porn leapt out of the screen and slapped Miss Thompson about the face.

Cocks going into young women’s mouths. A girl’s tongue on a pussy. “Zoe, are you still there?” Breasts, so many breasts. “Zoe, girl, look how hard you made me…” A maelstrom of dark and light flesh that she couldn’t make sense of for a moment, until she saw the caption “gangbanged fuckslut made airtight with BBC”… which, to be frank, didn’t ENTIRELY explain the picture to Miss Thompson, but it let her figure out what some of the shapes were…

Horrified, repulsed, Miss Thompson started scrolling. And couldn’t stop scrolling. Stories of incest and bondage. Lewd photos and gifs, scenes of decadence and degradation. She shook her head, her mouth open, but she couldn’t stop…

And the hypnosis. Over and over in the girl’s feed, the hypnosis! Glassy eyed girls with drooping mouths, baring their breasts… Women with spirals in their eyes, and cocks in their mouths… Flashing gifs with pictures and words, too fast to follow, telling her how she should be, how she must be, how she knew she already was, if she would just admit it to herself… Inductions, and fantasies, and more spirals, and submissive, drooling women, eager to serve cock, to serve pussy, to become slaves to their own needy cunts…

Miss Thompson hadn’t noticed how hard her nipples had gotten. She hadn’t noticed how wet her own cunt was, until she found herself dipping in a finger… She bucked against her hand, but didn’t stop stroking… just kept scrolling… 

Someone calling himself Master of Mystery – except with some of the letters replaced by numbers – BUZZed into a private message. “Getting pretty horny, Zoe? Pretty needy and desperate?”

“No,” she found herself typing. “I mean, no, I’m – I’m not… No.”

“Oh, you certainly sounded pretty desperate to me. You sounded like a little slut who needed permission to cum… A naughty fucktoy who can’t stop touching her princess parts even though she’s not supposed to…”

Miss Thompson bit her lip and with an effort pulled her hand away from her pussy. “I’m not Zoe. I am Miss Thompson, her teacher,” she typed.

She tried to pull herself together.

“And you should keep a civil tongue in your head, young man.”

“Ohhh! Naughty, naughty, teacher… Are you looking through a confiscated phone? And getting TURNED ON by someone else’s Tumblr porn? You are, aren’t you… Go ahead, you can admit it…”

“i” she typed and sent by mistake.

She cursed.

“I will do no such thing. I am… I am putting the phone down now.”

“No you’re not.”

She hesitated. He seemed so sure. She waited, panting.

“You won’t, because you would have already without saying anything. You would have before you got so horny scrolling through her feed.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Because you are horny, aren’t you? All pent-up, tied up in knots…”

“Yes, yes, I am, OK, but there’s nothing wrong with that”

“No, not at all. Tell you what. You seem tense. Let me help you relax. Can we do that?”

“Um”

“Just focus on your shoulders for a second. Feel how tight they are? Tighten them up even more, just for a second. Take a deep breath in. And then let it out, and as you do, feel all the tension go out of your shoulders…”

“what”

“Sshh shh you don’t have to say anything just listen. I’m going to count, and with each number you’re going to release a little tension, and it’s going to turn into warmth… warmth spreading through your body… 

“And then maybe we’ll look at a spiral together for a while… You’ll like that…”

*****

Zoe was feeling SO much better – though her legs were still a little wobbly – as she walked toward the classroom door. She couldn’t believe she’d left her phone behind! She hoped she could get it back quietly, without much fuss. There didn’t seem to be a class in there now. Maybe she could just slip in and grab it?

She eased the door open gently… and then almost dropped her backpack in surprise.

Miss Thompson was sprawled, nearly nude, in her wooden rolling chair! Her skirt was bunched around her middle, panties on the floor, white blouse and bra tangled on her desk. Most surprising of all, one hand was operating Zoe’s phone, and the other hand was operating Miss Thompson’s bushy cunt!

She stepped closer, sliding the backpack gently to the floor. The teacher’s breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy… and sure enough, Zoe could see a spiral on the glowing screen. She tiptoed close enough to read over her shoulder.

You want to watch

To let the spiral suck you in

To let my spiral suck away all resistance

You want to become mindless for me, because it feels so good to stop thinking

Each word you read will bring you pleasure, and each second you spend watching will make you sink deeper and deeper, until you can’t help but obey…

She reached around her teacher’s body, and cupped both breasts at once.

Miss Thompson gasped, and then relaxed with a moan as Zoe began kneading her nipples.

“How are you doing, miss?” she whispered.

“Can’t… Can’t cum. Need to… but don’t… don’t have permission…”

“Mmmm.” Zoe tweaked her nipples, massaging her surprisingly full and warm tits. “I know it’s a lot to handle if you’re not used to it. I’ve been sliding into this rabbit hole a bit at a time for months, so I’ve built up a liiiittle bit of an immunity.” Partially true, anyway. “But my feed and my followers must have hit you like a ton of bricks.” 

Zoe giggled to herself, as her teacher panted.

“Who are you talking to,” Zoe murmured.

“M-Master of Mystery,” Miss Thompson gasped, her back arching.

Ah yes, thought Zoe. Also known as Kevin.

“Tell him I’m here. And ask him what I should do to you.”

“Master…” Miss Thompson typed, and after a moment, responded.

“He says to get on your knees and lick my s-slutty, juicy c… cunt.”

Zoe smiled. “That’s what I was hoping he was going to say,” she murmured as she knelt.

After all, she thought. Good girls obey.

[peroxiddeprincess]

✭ Dumbification with Simon “Ghost” Riley. Fem!reader

CW: dirty talk, daddy kink, teasing, praise, degrading, dumbification (obvi), objectification, thigh riding, mentions of breeding, overstimulation

Note that is is NOT age play. I don’t write that weird shit.

A/N: i am SO down bad for dumbification. Simon has the perfect voice for it too…. This is nowhere close to realistic, but this is Tumblr, baby! Nothings realistic. (ALSO THIS IS THE FUCKING THING THAT TUMBLR DELETED HALFWAY THROUGH LIKE 4 TIMES.) ANYWAY! Hope u enjoy my babies🥹🫶

You sitting all pretty on his lap, gazing up at him. His balaclava is still on, and you’re too far gone to tell whats going on underneath. He’s definitely feeling powerful.. You could feel the dominance radiating off of him.

“Baby,” He coos, “You didn’t answer me.” Your pout slowly turns into a confused look, cocking a brow. “..What?” You mumble. You can tell he’s grinning now.

“What’d you do today?” He questions once more. “I.. I uh..” You search for words that just won’t pop up. You’re getting frustrated. “I did.. I did things. P-productive things..”

“Yeah? Like what? Paint a clear picture for me, love.” You barely register what he says, panting. “Y-yes..?” You answer. “Yes? That’s not what i asked. Details.” He sounds demanding, yet gentle, making your mind fuzzier than it already is.

You whimper. He sighs, taking pity. “Okay, okay.. No need to talk or move.. Let yourself melt in daddys hands..” He shifts you a bit, holding you in a tight grip.

“Yes daddy..!” You mewl, causing him to shush you. “Tsk, tsk. Shh shh. Keep quiet baby, and listen to me.” He says, you nod.

“Good girl. What a good little girl you are…” He praises, “Dont you worry, princess. Daddys gonna take good care of you.”

This elicts a soft whine from your throat, gulping quietly. “Such a pretty, dumb thing, aren’t you?” He questions. You nod again.

“Oh… Such a stupid, dumb little girl. Can barely form a sentence.” He pities. “I wonder what would happen if i were to let go of you… Would you fall, would you catch yourself? I’m almost curious..”

His hands loosen their grip, and you tumble a bit to the side. “S-simon! Don’ let go.. Don’t wanna fall..” You beg. “Please..!”

He chuckles at your needy voice. “I was just teasin’ you baby doll. M’not gonna let you go, you’re not goin’ anywhere. I’ve got ya’.” His grip tightens again and he straightens you upright. You shake your head with a pout.

“Meanie..” You mumble, barely audible, but just enough for him to hear. “I don’t think i’ve been too mean just yet. I can show you mean, my princess..” He leans in close to your ear, voice dropping a couple octaves. “Since you think i’m so mean, why dontcha’ tell me why you think so, hm? Use your big girl words.” He taunts.

“I- um.. Daddy was gonna let me go! T-that’s why!” You huff softly, tugging at his shirt. “Off…” You mumble. “Off?” He questions. “Daddy.. Off..” You tug at his shirt, making him grin.

“Ooh, i see. Baby girl doesn’t want her daddy to let her fall..” He’s ignoring your request, making you frustrated. “Daddy..! Off, please!” You beg, pulling on his shirt harder.

His eyes narrow. “You want me to take my shirt off, angel?” He cocks his head to the side. You nod enthusiastically. “How am i supposed to hold you and take my shirt off at the same time, hm? Thought you didn’t wanna fall.” He teases. You whine and kick your feet a little.

“I wont fall, daddy, please!” You beg once more. He obliges, Tugging his shirt off and throwing it to the side as you watch in awe, leaning your head against his chest to feel his muscles underneath you.

“Such a smart little one you are.. You managed to hold yourself up..” He’s sure to emphasize smart, catching you completely off guard as tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. “No..! Not smart, Daddy, Take it back!” You whine, shaking your head quickly as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh, my dumb baby girl,” He says, hands moving up to your waist. “You don’t like when daddy tells you how well you put that pretty mind to use?” He interrogates.

“No!” You shake your head again, letting out a soft cry and digging your nails into his chest. “Poor thing..” He sympathizes, giving you faux puppy eyes. “You know you’ll always be daddy’s dumb, pathetic princess.”

You bite your lip. “..P-promise daddy?” You hold your pinky out. He wraps his pink around yours. “Yes, baby. I promise.” He moves his hand to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You’re so, so cute.” He praises, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You quickly start to suck on it, making him curse under his breath and press down on your tongue.

“Yeah baby, that’s right. Focus on keeps daddy’s fingers nice n’ warm.” He groans, staring at your lips. You start to slowly grind on his thigh, moaning quietly around his fingers as your arousal pools in your panties.

He takes quick notice to what you’re doing, bouncing his thigh gently making you moan a bit louder. “Oh, good girl. Good fucking girl.” He rubs your back with his other hand, swirling your tongue around his thumb and speeding your movements up.

Him rubbing your back quickly turns into his hand back on your hip, making you grind into him faster.

“Trying to get off in my lap, yeah? What a stupid whore i have on my hands.” You cry out at the pressure, mumbling begs and pleads around his finger and gripping his shoulders.

“Your brain is leaking from your pussy, all over daddy’s lap…” He says, “That’s okay, my princess. Feel good for me.” You start to drool all over him, dripping down onto his chest and all over his hand.

“Can’t think of anything but bouncing on daddy’s thigh and keepin’ his fingers warm. Trust me baby doll, i know, i know..” He says against your forehead, hot breath coming through the balaclava.

Your thighs clench around him and you cum in your panties, whining and grabbing at his wrist to shove more fingers in your mouth. He happily obliges, replacing his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers. He continues to make you grind on him, bouncing his thigh a bit more and shoving his fingers to the back of your throat.

“Good girl, baby. Making a mess all over me..” He says, voice thick and sultry with arousal. The gagging and pressure quickly makes you cum yet again, not even 30 seconds apart from your last orgasm.

“Cumming again for me so quickly, god baby. You’re just the perfect little toy for me, arent you?” You nod, twitching and digging your nails into his shoulders.

He slows his thigh, loosening his grip once again. “Such a drooly baby, you are. Oh, what a mess..” He coos. A fresh batch of tears begin streaming down your hot cheeks.

“I know you want more, sweetheart. Whatcha’ want? Cant give you what you want unless you tell me..” He says, making you tremble.

Dragging your head away from his fingers, you moan, “Breed..” He chuckles, pressing you against the back of the couch.

“You want daddy to breed you?” He says, and you nod quickly. “Well then, baby,” He starts,

“You’re in for a rough fuckin’ night.”

[joshfuckingkiszka]

𝔈𝔫𝔡 𝔊𝔞𝔪𝔢 - 𝔍𝔐𝔎

jmk x f!reader

first of many, enjoy ;)

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fake dating trope (it's a fave and I not be sorry), bit of angst, josh is a cutie

taylor's version masterpost

reputation masterpost

☮

Young Starlet Caught in Compromising Position!

Your publicist was less than pleased about the headline. Even though you had insisted nothing had happened, and that picture was simply a case of a bad angle. It wasn’t looking great, though. To be fair, the picture was pretty bad. A bruise painted your neck, lipstick smudged around your mouth as some guy grabbed your hips from behind.

It would be hard to explain yourself out of that one, to be honest. Regardless of whether the picture was accurately depicting your actions of the night, the fans had seen it. Your image had already been tainted in their eyes, and it would be nearly impossible to recover. 

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah

Rather than attempting to, it was decided that you required a rebrand. It started with the incorporation of darker clothes into your “wardrobe” - quoted only because it was what was chosen for you. Interviews began to shift to questioning the possibility of heavier music, to which you would coyly suggest it was possible. 

Then you released a new single. It caught the attention of rock fans everywhere. There was a sudden call for a genre change, which you hoped so desperately for. The last few years of your life had made you feel like a sell out. You traded the humanity and meaning in your music for tracks that would generate streams and ranks on charts. 

Within a couple years, no one remembered the popstar you had been. It was all about the rockstar you had become. And you were a big one. 

It wasn’t overwhelming anymore. The work you put in was hard and abundant, but it was genuine. It showed in the love that poured from the fans over social media and in the crowds of your sold out shows. 

A world tour was in the talks and an opening act was in question. Someone suggested a band you had heard a handful of times before: Greta Van Fleet, not that you ever really had time to immerse yourself in a new band. From the videos you’d seen and the songs you’d heard, you would be lucky to have them on tour with you. They were getting relatively popular and you knew you had to strike fast to get them on the setlist. 

“I have a surprise for you!” Gene, your publicist, exclaimed in a sing-song tune. 

“Ugh, last time you said that, I had a snake draped over my body. Still mad at you for that, actually.” You only looked up from your phone for the last sentence, otherwise preoccupied with a daunting game of 8 Ball with your best friend. 

“Well, this one I’m not sure is much better, if we’re being honest,” he trailed off, “the label loves you, you know that.” 

“Uh oh.” You weren’t worried. 

“But in a recent poll, they found that fans think you’re …how do I put this …boring?” He strung his words together carefully, as to not offend you. It wasn’t his tone of voice that concerned you. 

“Boring?! I’m practically fucking a mic stand every night!” 

“Not enough anymore, babe.” He was being rather nonchalant, and you realized that being called “boring” wasn’t even the main issue that was being presented. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “So what are they going to do about it, Gene.” His name came out like the sparking embers of a fire on the forest floor. 

And I heard about you, ooh (yeah) You like the bad ones too

That was how you ended up at an intimate restaurant in Nashville, across from Josh Kiszka. He was nervous and it was actually kind of cute. It reminded you of a real date, something you hadn’t had in ages. 

“I like your dress. Green. That’s my favorite color,” his eyes raked over the silk of your dress. It extended to your ankles, a slit daring to expose your leg. The straps were a little tight, and prevented you from wearing a normal bra, and the tape holding up your breasts was peeling from sweat. 

“I know,” you chuckled, “everything about this is set up to be as persuasive as possible.”

“Oh. Either way. It looks great on you.” He was genuine, and as the night went on, you found that it wasn’t even his most endearing trait. 

Just as the clock was about to hit 11, he was standing on your front porch, wishing he didn’t have to leave. This was an arrangement, a plan to draw attention to the both of you, driving up streams and ticket sales. 

As you stood on your porch, hand lingering on the door as if it was a riddle, so close to him that you could practically taste the wine on his lips, you realized something. You realized that you were going to inevitably fall in love with Josh Kiszka, undeniable force meets immovable object. It was almost expected that dread would fill your stomach as you recognized this fate, but it never came. Instead, butterflies flew in its place. 

I've passed days without fun, this endgame is the one With four words on the tip of my tongue I'll never say

A month and half later, and several dates to show, you had proven yourself correct. But, who could blame you? What about Josh wasn’t lovable? 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you announced to the meeting. There were a few label executives, Gene, and Josh with his team. 

“What?” Josh was the first to say anything, and his face portrayed betrayal. 

“Yeah, what he said,” Gene added. 

You sighed, “I don’t want to pretend to be in a relationship anymore. That’s not what my job is, and I don’t see how it adds any value to my music.” 

“B-But, this is what’s going to sell the tickets. A love story, performing together in the throes of romance.” You glared at the executive. 

“No, our raw talent and meaningful music will sell tickets. I will not be told who I can date, when I can see them, and especially when I can break up with them. If that’s a problem, I’m sure another record label would have no problem meeting my demands.” 

This is what drew Josh to you: your fiery passion. In spite of that, he was upset, especially since you hadn’t even discussed it with him. He was under the impression that you liked him, maybe even liked him. God, he felt like a middle schooler again, paired with the pretty girl for a project only for her to ask for a different partner halfway through. 

I don't wanna touch you (I don't wanna be) Just another ex-love (you don't wanna see)

As it turns out, the label no longer had a problem meeting your demands. You waited outside the board room for Josh, pulling him aside when he came out, head hung low. 

“It’s not you, trust me.” 

“Oh, then it’s you?” 

“No. Listen, I don’t want to be told to date you, or what happens over the course of our ‘relationship.’ I don’t want the pressure of having to pretend to love you.” 

“I get it, believe me. You don’t have to explain.” 

“I want to do it by myself, on my terms. Love you, I mean. And believe me, I do.” 

He looked up for the first time, his eyes were beautiful. But you already knew that. 

“I don’t want to have to forget you, and never see you again because the tour is over. I want our love to be ours, and no one else’s.” 

Josh smiled, he agreed.

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417, @brokenbellz, @gretavanfleas, @pyrojoshy, @greta-van-chaos, @xserenax-13, @hayley1623, @kdarling1, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk, @sammysvanfeet, @shawnsthighs, @gretavanbitches, @sammiejane22, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama, @alexxavicry, @spark-my-nature, @rainy-darling

joshy: @prophetofthedune, @loofypoofy, @gretavangracee

[kittyball23]

The Vesting (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Some years before Branch’s birth, Floyd gets officially inducted as a member of BroZone

A/N: Taking place before TBT

__________________________________________

The room was dark.

Floyd tried squinting, trying to adjust his eyes to make anything out, when all of a sudden, he was blinded by a bright light. He yelped and stepped back a little, the shine of the glowbug that had been lit startling him for just a second as it helped illuminate his surroundings. There, contrasted with the sharp light were his three older brothers standing across from him. John Dory was in the middle, holding the glowbug in his hands right under his face, as though he were holding a flashlight and about to tell a spooky story. Spruce was to his left and Clay was to his right. Floyd in the meantime stood there, uncertain of what was happening.

John Dory narrowed his eyes, and then suddenly began speaking in a deep, mysterious voice.

“We’ve gathered here today to undergo the most revered of ceremonies....”

Then, JD reached into his pocket and thrust a paper into Floyd’s hands. The magenta-haired Trolling, growing even more confused by the minute, gave a meek little “Huh?”

“Go on, read it!” John Dory urged.

Floyd looked down and skimmed through the words first, his brows furrowing. “Is this an oath?”

JD rolled his eyes. “No dude, a BROath,” he corrected.

“Which is pretty much like an oath,” Spruce clarified.

“Only ‘better’!” Clay added, making the word better with airquotes.

“Well it is,” JD said. He nudged Floyd. “Go ahead, dude, read it!”

Floyd shrugged. He may as well. He looked down at the page silently. He was only able to catch the first couple of sentences when the sound of a throat clearing made him stop. Floyd jerked his head up to find JD glaring down at him.

“Out loud.”

Floyd blushed. Whoops. After mumbling an apology, he cleared his throat and, as instructed, began to read the words on the page aloud. Or, as the title at the top was written, the ‘BroZone Credo.’

“’ 1) Family is numero uno. As fun as performing is, I promise to put bros before shows every time. 2) All bros are made equal, but we are not all the same. We have different colors, sizes, shapes and ages. I won’t judge my bro by his taste in music, but by his character. 3) A bro is not afraid to admit when he’s scared. When I am, I promise to confide in my bros and summon the Pop Power of all the brodacious superstars that came before us so that we can use all the love, all the smarts, and all the bravery we got to accomplish the ultimate Family Harmony. 4) All bros can make mistakes. I will admit when I’m wrong and work at it to make things right again. 5) Bros were born to sing. I promise to share my talents with others and not keep them all to myself. To earn my spot – ‘”

“Ooh, wait, wait, wait!” John Dory interrupted, waving his hands. “Stop there for a sec. You gotta raise your right hand now!”

“What?” Floyd shot a glance at Spruce and Clay. In return, they gave him a look that communicated Dude, we did this too. The magenta-haired Trolling shrugged and raised his right hand.

“Okay, good,” JD said. “Now you can keep reading.”

So Floyd did. “’To earn my spot within this band, I solemnly swear to uphold this oath – I mean, BROath – and honor it for the sake of my family.’”

“Forever?” JD asked him.

Floyd looked up from his paper and gave a small nod. “Forever.”

The BroZone leader smiled. “Good.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Spruce! Clay! Grab the item,” he commanded. The purple and yellow Trollings went off, and JD turned his attention to Floyd. “Floyd, arms up and eyes closed!”

By this point in the initiation, Floyd was still a little confused, but he’d learned to just go with it. He did as told (hoping he didn’t look too silly in his T-pose), and waited to see – or rather, hear – what was happening next. He heard some shuffling next to him, and then felt something being placed at his arms. Floyd began to open an eye, hoping to see what was going on, but he instantly shut it again at JD’s shout.

“Hey! No peeking!”

As the something was continued to be adjusted on his arms and then against his body, JD spoke.

“By the totally brodacious power invested in me – with an emphasis on the vest” – he paused to laugh at his own joke (one that Floyd was about to understand in just a few moments) – “I now pronounce you an official member of BroZone!!” He whooped and then clapped his hands. “Alright, now open ‘em up!”

Floyd blinked, and then looked down and gasped. A smile grew on his face as he beheld the elegant, magenta, polyester puffy jacket of a vest that was on him. It was pristine and brand new, fresh and perfectly form-fitting. It went with his hair, as each of his brothers' vests did, and he didn't need a mirror to know that it made him look, as John Dory would put it, totally brodacious! He turned this way and that, appreciating it no matter what angle he viewed it.

“Welcome to the band, little bro!” John Dory exclaimed. Spruce and Clay added in their own “Woo-hoo!”s and “You got it!”s to the chorus.

“Awww, well thanks you guys… thank you so much!” Floyd cooed, beginning to sniffle. The brothers already recognized the signs of oncoming tears, but didn’t badger the little guy about it. Classic Floyd always cried, but he had reason for his happy tears. This was a big moment! Another bro had just joined in on their special pact, and they were going to only continue to live up to their full potential. Before JD could help it, he thrust his hand out in front of him. Spruce recognized the motion and placed his hand on top of his, and then Clay on top of Spruce’s. Last but not least, Floyd still with tear-stained cheeks, placed his hand on Clay’s. They threw their hands up in the air together and chanted out.

“IT’S BRO-TIME!!”

Laughs and brotherly pats on the back followed… as well as an authoritative female voice from just the other room.

“No, it’s BEDtime,” the voice of their Grandma Rosiepuff called out, just before she appeared at the doorway of their room with her arms crossed. “Boys,” she continued, giving them a stern look. “Do you know how late it is?”

Groans came from the Trollings. “But Grandmaaa,” John Dory whined. “We were doing The Vesting!”

Grandma Rosiepuff snickered. She had seen JD do this special little ceremony of his for Spruce and then Clay when they were younger. JD pushed Floyd forward and beamed up at her. “See? Check out how he’s flexin’ the drip now! Pretty sweet, huh?”

Floyd looked up at their grandmother hopefully, his eyes shining. Grandma Rosiepuff smiled down at him. “It is ‘sweet,’ dear,” she said.

Floyd blushed while JD pumped his fists and Spruce and Clay high-fived.

“But do you know what else is ‘sweet’?” Grandma Rosiepuff continued. “Dreams.” She pointed a finger to the beds and the boys sighed, knowing that she was right. One by one, they slipped out of their vests and hung them at their bedposts (Floyd taking one more minute to admire his before he too did as his brothers had), and then they slipped into bed. Grandma Rosiepuff then made her rounds to each brother, helping to tuck them in. When she was finished, she turned off the glowbug and allowed it to flitter out the window.

“Good night,” she whispered to them.

And “G’night!” came the response of the four band members she was proud to call her grandsons.

[callsignthirsty]

Chapter 2: On the Roof

Shit weather can only stop me for so long! Here's chapter 2

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: The boys receive their commendations, and you keep your legs crossed. Should be easy, right? Wrong. Word Count: 3680 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) Chapter: 2/4 Minors DNI Previous Chapter

“Sooo,” Maria Cortell leans as far forward as her bump will allow, drawing out the word with a smile on her lips. It’s become apparent that you’ll be waiting a while for your stolen tablemates to walk onto the stage and receive their commendations. “Are wedding bells ringing?”

Your poor heart, which had only just slowed, skips an unsteady beat. Maria’s question, for as simple as it is, packs one helluva wallop.

The thought hasn’t crossed your mind. You haven’t even said I love you—not for a lack of love, but because you’ve lost many of the ones you love over your life. Admitting the depth of your feelings—whether for family, friends, or beaus—always seems to precede an abrupt departure of said person from your life. But now that Maria has mentioned it, what are you supposed to do?

Distracted, you twist your cloth napkin between clammy hands. It’s not like you can marry Ice and Slider, but you can’t date Ice forever, either. especially not if he’s trying to climb the ladder. He’s expected to marry. To have kids. The white picket fence experience. A wife to come home to.

“They must be,” Merlin’s wife jumps in.

Maria nods with the enthusiasm you wish you felt. “Bill and I were looking at houses after three months. I’m sure you’ve at least talked about it.”

Goose throws back a full glass of wine.

They think they’re being supportive, and it would be nice if it weren’t so terrifying. “I–”

“And now’s the perfect time,” Maria doesn’t even realize she’s cut you off. “Who knows how long he’ll be stationed at Miramar?”

“Ooh! You could get married on the beach.”

Cougar catches your lack of participation. “Don’t scare her off, now,” Cougar says, placing his hand on top of his wife’s to get her attention.

“Oh please,” Laura brushes Cougar aside, “they’ve been practically wrapped around each other all night. Ron said they’ve been inseparable.”

Maria sighs. “Poor Ron.” Carole chokes, but the only one who pays her any mind is Goose, who smacks her between her shoulder blades and refills her water. “I remember how close he and Tom were at Pensacola, must be hard for him to watch his friend settle down–“ something must flit across your face because she hesitates mid-sentence, her eyes widen a little as she realizes the insinuation, and she all but lunges for the distraction of her sentry of a water glass, “–but, um, I’m sure you have a friend you could set him up with?”

“Oh,” Goose interjects loud enough to turn a couple of heads and incite a stern look from Jester, “I think this is them.”

It isn’t.

“That would be fun,” Laura coos back to Maria without skipping a beat. “Think of the double dates.”

“Come on,” Goose tries again, “you don’t want to set someone up with Kerner, do you?” And didn’t Goose know it. He squawks when Carole catches him in the ribs with her elbow, but Maria and Laura are off to the races, passing the idea back and forth and painting a picture of your future while you struggle to keep up.

“You’ll always have someone to keep you company when they end up on a carrier halfway around the world.” Maria.

A sly look from Laura. “You know, if you time it right, your kids can grow up together.”

“Community is so important,” Maria agrees, ducking around a waiter’s arm as dinner plates are settled.

“Sam and I were lucky enough to be stationed near my family when we had the girls.”

“I don’t know what I’d have done without the wives’ group while I was pregnant with Robbie.” Maria gives her husband a tender smile and smoothes a hand over her belly. Whatever she says next is drowned out by applause.

This time—as Goose breathes an “Oh, thank god”—a familiar group of flyboys are led onto the stage. The commander keeps it brief; says some words about the Layton mission and the courageous efforts of the aviators who defended the boat from enemy MiGs. Everyone gets a pin on their lapel before they’re all ushered off the stage. Your legs are crossed by the time they make it back to the table.

The rest of the dinner passes without issue. Plates are cleared. The program comes to a close with the cutting of a cake. A cacophony of music and conversation erupts as the masses are released from their seats and the event finally catches its second wind. More immediately around you, the flyboys spill into the space between their tables and continue catching up.

Hollywood and Sundown introduce their dates—fiancée and wife, respectively—to the larger group. Jester and his wife sneak off, presumably to find Viper but definitely different company. It’s a relief to gain more social padding between yourself, Maria, and Laura, well-meaning though they may be.

It’s while you’re reacquainting yourself with the rest of the group when Hollywood asks Slider if he’s flying solo these days.

“What’s it look like?” Slider grumbles.

Wolfman slings an arm around his fellow RIO’s shoulders to pull him close. “Aw, man. What happened?”

Slider gives him a half-shrug, looking otherwise unaffected. “You know how it is. Couldn’t handle the job.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Chipper chimes in. “You’re still at Miramar.”

“So she dumped you?” Wolf’s winces as he looks up at Slider, taking his silence for confirmation. “Yikes.”

“Hey, it wasn’t like that–”

“Don’t mind them,” Sundown says, an arm wrapped around his wife. She beams at him when he assures Slider,“The right one will stick around.”

And the conversation could’ve ended there. Wolf, Chip, and Sli could’ve spent the rest of the night wingmanning each other until it was time to turn in and Slider would slip into your quarters.

Maria Cortell had other plans. “Don’t be ridiculous! We were just talking about how the future missus must have a friend she can set you up with.” Cheeks flaming, you tuck into Ice’s side in an attempt to escape his gaze. “Future missus?” His tone gives nothing away, but the stiffening of his arm beneath your hand speaks volumes.

Beside Ice, Slider raises a brow. “Were you, now?” This is a conversation you were hoping to avoid.

“Please,” Pete scoffs. “I wouldn’t wish Kerner on anyone.”

Slider sneers, but it doesn’t have any real heat behind it. “Bite me, Mitchell.”

And bless Carole Bradshaw because she sees Pete opening his mouth to say, “Which one?” from a mile away and deploys a very loud countermeasure: “I wanna dance!”

Goose grabs his wife’s hand and pulls her to sit across his lap. “Great idea, honey!” he crows, earning a kiss on the cheek.

For as long as you’ve known him, Goose has always been a darling. Everyone knows it, too. The sun is hot. Water is wet. Everyone loves Goose. His close call on Hop 31 only cemented that last truth. Nick Bradshaw is magnetic in a way few others are, and he could pull a crowd just as easily at the piano as he could, apparently, at his wife’s beck-and-call.

The display of eager, honeyed affection drawing the eyes and smiles of the group.

“C’mon, Mav, give us a push!” Goose loops his arms around Carole as she makes herself comfortable in his lap for the taxi to the dancefloor. “Should be a—what did you call it?—a target-rich environment.”

“Wait. You not seeing Blackwood anymore?” Hollywood asks, receiving ‘oohs’ from the rest of the men. Pete’s shoulder’s bunch, but otherwise, he ignores his friends. Though she was a civilian contractor, Charlie did work for the DoD, and after her relocation to D.C., Pete was technically on her turf tonight.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Ice deflects.

Pete grabs hold of Goose’s wheelchair, finding it more difficult to maneuver with two passengers.  “I wonder if Penny’s here.”

Carole throws her head back with a guffaw. “After your little joyride? I’d be surprised if her daddy lets her within a thousand feet of you!”

The group doesn’t stick together much longer, inevitably breaking up as they go their separate ways.

“What do you say?” Ice asks, nodding after the group headed to the dancefloor. Eventually, Ice needs to go back to rubbing shoulders with the brass, but there’s no harm in a quick dance or two to break up the monotony.

“That’s okay, Ice,” Slider butts in, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. You repress a shiver when the same hand that had been between your legs squeezes your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the velvet near your collarbone. “You go keep Mav out of trouble. We’ll grab dessert and meet you there.”

The twitch at the corner of his lips gives away how hard Slider is fighting to keep the wolfish grin off his lips. Your ears burn, but Ice’s only reaction is an unenthused, dismissive sound. Both of you know what Slider is playing. That doesn’t stop the pinpricks of arousal from returning as you imagine Slider’s hands—both of them this time—working to finish what he’d started under the table.

“How long have we known each other?” Ice asks Slider.

“Going on ten years.”

“And I can count the number of times I’ve seen you eat cake on one hand,” Ice muses.

Undeterred, Slider offers you a lopsided, wolfish grin, his fingers tracing down your arm and raising goosebumps in their wake. “Who said anything about cake?”

“There it is.” Ice flicks Slider’s fingers from their path and threads his fingers through your own. The same Iceman mask he wears around the tarmac is firmly in place when he levels Slider with a look. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re pissy because I had this in the bag before I was interrupted.”

“And how were you planning on getting away with it?” Ice hisses with a glance to make sure the three of you are well enough alone. “Sitting at a table full of people.”

“I had a plan,” Slider scoffs.

“A plan to get caught with your hand up her skirt.”

“You’re just upset you walked right into it.” Ice clenches his teeth. He doesn’t have a responding quip, and Slider knows it. Ice had been too excited by the sudden appearance of Cougar to realize Slider was gunning for a quick win. “All it takes is one mistake,” Slider needles.

Wearing down the competition with technical precision is a page straight out of Ice’s book and his fingers twitch ever so slightly in your grasp, Slider rubbing it in his face that he’s fallen prey to his own game. It’s a mistake he won’t make twice.

Ice takes a deep breath and looks to the barrel-vaulted ceiling as if he’ll find the answers he’s looking for among the gold leafing. “We’re leaving now.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Slider taunts, but Ice is back on his game. He serves Slider a smug look as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Goodbye, Kerner.”

In the dance hall, you’re a single drop in a rolling sea. The band is louder here, the floor tacky with spilled beverages, but you find a pocket of space as the music slows. Pete hangs onto the edge of the crowd with Goose and Carole, his face pressed between Goose’s shoulder blades as he helps his best friend stand to dance with his wife—Carole, you’re sure, is crying.

Gentle hands bring your focus back to your partner as he encourages you to step with him to the rhythm. When you look up at him through your lashes, you almost forget the rest of the room. Taken by the flint of his eyes in the low light. A smile bubbles to life on your rouged lips is an inevitability.

You spin beneath his arm and let Ice reel you in until his breath tickles your ear. “You’re stunning.” You glow under the praise, fingers playing with the short hairs at his nape. High praise.

It makes you wonder: does Ice even know what he looks like?

The ever-present tan of his skin highlighted by the contrasting white of his uniform. The smarts. The confidence. A beauty mark on his jaw. High cheekbones. The way he moves.

He has to know. Not for vanity, but for fact. 

“How’re you holding up?” He must pick up on the restless twitch of your muscles or maybe the flutter of your heart in your palm.

You paint on a smile. ”I’m fine.”

You can’t suppress the shudder that wracks you or the sharp intake of breath when he lifts your chin with a finger, lashes brushing your cheeks as a kiss is pressed to your forehead. When he tugs you closer, you go easily, but you’re unable to fully relax into the embrace.

“Did you know you only say you’re fine when you aren’t?” He shifts his hold so it feels more like a hug, a soft quirk to his lips. It’s easier for him to hold you like this when you fade into the crowd. There’s less pressure. Fewer eyes on him when his hand shifts lower, dexterous fingers tracing over the knobs of your spine and raising goosebumps beneath the luxurious drape of your gown.

The band does wonders to mute your gasp, but Ice doesn’t miss the way you jerk in his grasp. Sensitive.

“Was it…?” He doesn’t finish in an overabundance of caution for who may or may not be eavesdropping. The hand you’d let linger near his nape comes to fidget against his chest as you lay your head against his shoulder and nod while focusing on the ba-dum of his heart. “Do you need to leave?”

“No.” Sure, you tingle with each brush of skin on skin. Yes, you’re eager to soak up each touch. But, as you meet his eyes, you mean it. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by all of this,” you fib.

Slider may be pushing the boundaries of decency—may have definitely blown past them during the dinner— and you may be wound tight after so many days without either of their company, but you can do this. Tonight is about Ice, and you intend to see it through.

“But I don’t want to leave.”

Ice keeps you close as the song fades out and the band counts in a fast-paced number. “Look,” Ice concedes when you break free of the dancing. Playtime is over, you can practically see the cogs turning in the metal of his eyes as Ice comes up with a revised plan. “There are still some people I need to talk to, but after, I’ll get us out of–”

“Just the man I was looking for.” Ice stops so abruptly that you stumble into him. “Admiral John Benjamin,” Penny’s father introduces himself, taking Ice’s hand in a firm shake. “Really good stuff on the Enterprise.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The praise, though sparing, is well-deserved. But the obsequious nature of his comment is revealed in the way the admiral’s eyes scan the nearby crowd. Ice isn’t his target.

“Say,” the admiral drawls as he drops all pretenses, “you wouldn’t happen to know where your wingman is? I want to congratulate him on a job well done.”

You very much doubt that, but as you glance over to where Pete had been with Goose and Carole earlier, he’s long gone—Carole helping her husband back into his wheelchair, the only evidence Pete had been there at all. And Ice knows enough through retellings of Pete’s past run-ins with Admiral Benjamin that you trust him not to sell your brother out. At least, not if he doesn’t have to.

“I haven’t seen him since we received our commendation.”

“Of course. Congratulations again on those,” Benjamin clips. “But you must have some sort of idea of his whereabouts.”

“I–”

“Ice. Admiral, sir.” It never ceases to amaze you how someone as large as Slider can so easily fly under the radar when he wants to. “I need to borrow her for a minute,” he says before Ice can say anything, and because he can’t do anything when Admiral Benjamin continues to squeeze for information on Pete, Slider steers you out of the dance hall.

It had been a crisp 66 degrees in DC, the setting of the sun taking what remained of the day’s warmth with it. The cold creeps beneath your skin as Slider beckons you up the roof access, shimming the door with a wad of folded cocktail napkins so you can slip back to the party later.

Though shrouded in darkness on the flat of the rooftop, the bright lights of the capital might as well be a hair’s breadth away. Too close for comfort. Before you can protest, Slider engulfs your hand in his and looks for a more suitable, more private corner. It won’t do to be caught, though Slider doubts anyone will come looking. But it pays to be cautious.

“You have any idea how good you look in this?” Slider rumbles, voice resonating from deep within his chest in a way that makes your insides quake. He lets you know with a demanding kiss, his lips lightly stained with your rouge when he pulls back so you can suck in a breath.

“Sli.” The wind carries your whine toward the street, where it’s drowned by the brassy horns of street traffic. When goosebumps erupt along your arms, your fingers scrabble for his shoulder boards in a bid to keep him close.

It takes next to nothing to convince Slider to give in to your plea. Crowding close as he smears kisses and color down your neck. “It’s been so hard to keep my hands off you.” Said hands grab fistfuls of you over the velvet of your gown; the smooth rasp of the fabric over tender skin makes you gasp.

“You didn’t,” you point out.

“No,” he agrees, fingers reacquainting themselves with the gusset of your panties. “But can you blame me?”

“Who else would I blame?”

Dizzy with desire, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep a heady whine locked away when fingers slip between your pussy lips to tease around your entrance. “Do you want me to stop?” Slider asks with a lopsided, teasing grin.

“Don’t you dare.”

Instead of giving you what you want—two fingers to fill you where you feel hopelessly empty—Slider’s hand withdraws from your panties. You’re a second from demanding he put his hand right back where he had it when Slider lowers himself to the ground. “Wait–!” you exclaim as his first knee touches down on the unkempt rooftop floor “–your pants.”

“Don’t worry,” he says as both of his hands slip under your dress, eager fingers drawing the lacy elastic of your panties down your legs. “That’s what drycleaning’s for.” But his other knee stays decidedly off the ground.

Slider scoots himself closer, impatient hands rucking up your tight-fitting dress until he can take advantage of the slit in your skirt. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, soft skin exposed to the night, but you’re far from cold as he chases the fabric with scorching kisses up the inside of your thigh. Deliberately leaving marks where no one else at this stuffy party will see them.

His hair is just long enough that the tips begin to curl. You spear your fingers through the short waves and fist what you can. Normally, you’d hold him close as he litters your hip with hungry kisses and sharp, rosey blooms, but with the way he’d worked you up earlier, you pull his head toward the apex of your thighs. You can go back to being Ice’s pretty trophy girlfriend after you cum on Slider’s tongue.

Slider lets out a gruff rumble of a chuckle as if he’s read your mind. A nip makes your leg jump in his grasp, your heel knocking against his back, but he’s as eager to get this show on the road as you are.

Face half-obscured by black velvet, Slider’s tongue laps over your clit. Eyes slamming shut, whole body pulsing in time with your heart, head thunking back against the wall. Slack-jawed, you encourage him to do it again with a shuttered but wanton noise in the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” Slider encourages, his other hand reaching up to massage your ass and drag your hips forward in a slick grind against his mouth. You tremble in his grasp as he continues to roll your hips against his face before he opts for a new angle of attack.

A quick reposition of the leg over Slider’s shoulder grants him better access for a more thorough assault on your cunt, and your back arches when his tongue prods at your entrance. Blood roars in your ears while your walls clench around nothing at the promise of his tongue, but it only teases at your lips.

You try to drag him closer with your one leg, letting go of Slider’s hair with one hand to steady yourself against the wall. Sli takes that moment to dive in, tongue finally fucking into you and his nose bumping into your clit in a way that has your heart stuttering and limbs shaky. Your hips jolt at the touch, back arching off the wall.

It’s messy, the pinpricks of Slider’s stubble eased by the mix of arousal and spit coating the apex of your thighs. The barely muffled slurp as he parts your lips and delves his tongue inside before engulfing your clit in the wet heat of his mouth and giving it a suck.

Slider’s eyes are half-lidded when he meets your gaze. “You’re close,” he breathes, calloused fingers petting up your leg directly to your clit and drinking in the shiver it knocks loose, your lips red as you bite back a moan. “Don’t worry,” he says, two fingers dipping the slightest bit into your cunt before drawing back to rub at the opening, “we’ll get you there this time.”

Against your back, the wall rattles as the roof access bangs open.

Next Chapter

[alohajun]

♡ THE SEVEN STAGES OF FALLING FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND — PARK JEONGWOO

jeongwoo x fem!reader | wc : 2k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, angst, swearing, playful teasing, mentions of food, crying, mutual pining (?) | request : hi can i makes request? childhood friends to lovers with jeongwoo (cut off to not spoil the plot)

ACT ONE — PROMISES

“you know, it’s crazy how one day we could be hanging out on the rooftop for the last time and we wouldn’t even know it.”

you muttered, hugging your knees as you turned to look at your best friend, park jeongwoo.

he scoffed. “like i’d ever let you stop having our daily catchup sessions on the roof,” he quipped, shaking his head. “you are stuck with me forever, love.” jeongwoo smiled, reaching out as he invited you into his embrace.

“well, good.” you chuckled, finding solace between the brunet’s arms. “because i’m not going anywhere, woo.”

“ooh, is that a promise, missy?” jeongwoo inquired, raising his brows.

you smiled, nodding. “yeah. we are gonna be besties forever and always.” you never felt more sure about anything than when you made the promise while watching the moon.

“forever and always, indeed.”

ACT TWO — OBLIVIOUSNESS

out of all the drama club traditions, melancholy mondays were definitely jeongwoo’s favorite. 

it was when the drama club would get together and watch a movie that would somehow have most of their members in tears. and as sadistic as it sounded, jeongwoo enjoyed those days the most.

why, you may ask?

well, it was because there was something about you crying like a baby while being held by jeongwoo that did things to his heart. 

he always waved it off as finding you adorable — which was without a doubt the truth — but there was something else to it too.

but jeongwoo just couldn’t put his finger on what that feeling was.

just like clockwork, every monday, park jeongwoo sat right beside you, enveloping his arms around you while you watched the drama club’s weekly sad movie, wiping away your tears as if it were his profession.

“why would he do that?” you cried, gripping tightly onto your best friend’s shirt. “they could’ve been so good together.”

jeongwoo nodded, patting your head softly. “could they, though?” he asked quietly. “he loved her enough to know it was the right thing to do. i would do the same, honestly,” he muttered.

you turned to look at your friend, your lips quivering at the thought of him not being there for you ever again. “don’t say that.” you teared up instantly, sobbing as you were pulled into his embrace.

jeongwoo winced, regretting his choice of words. “shit, i’m sorry. you know, i didn’t mean it like that,” he apologized.

sumin chuckled as he saw the two best friends, exchanging knowing glances with jinsik. “you can’t tell me they aren’t dating.” he raised his brows, skeptical.

“you’ll be surprised.” jinsik laughed. “that’s how they usually are.”

“like a couple?” sumin inquired, shocked at the response.

“exactly like a couple.”

ACT THREE — PROTECTIVENESS

“wow, such a gentleman you are.” you scoffed, frowning at your monitor, as you listened to the unsolicited curses from a fellow gamer. “could you speak one sentence without a curse word in it?”

jeongwoo paused his game as he looked up from his phone, brows furrowed in concern. “hey, love. what’s wrong?” he inquired, immediately at your side.

you pushed the mic upward with a sigh. “the guy’s just a sore loser. he started cursing everyone out, and when i told him to stop, he just targeted me,” you explained.

“hand over the headset, please?” jeongwoo didn’t even wait for your response, taking your headphones off before wearing them himself. “hi there. could you just repeat what you just said?”

you couldn’t help but crack a smile, amused at how polite jeongwoo was when you knew he was most definitely getting cursed out by the other guy.

“woah, dude. calm down.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“woo-” you tried to cut him off, not wanting him to get into a virtual fight unnecessarily because of you. “please.”

jeongwoo raised a hand to stop you, raising his voice as he spoke to the gamer guy. “no, man. you listen to me!” he exclaimed. “you may as well whisper in my friend’s direction; i will hunt you myself. good riddance.” he ended the game, shutting down your setup.

you bit your bottom lip, worriedly glancing over at the male. “woo, are–” you spoke, pausing when jeongwoo looked at you with furrowed brows.

“don’t let anyone speak to you like that ever, love. if they cause trouble, just let me know. i’ll take care of it for you, okay?”

ACT FOUR — COMPANIONSHIP

you let out a sigh for the umpteenth time as you felt your best friend poke your side, fisting your hand on the table to calm yourself down. 

for the past half-hour, park jeongwoo seemed to find happiness in poking the side of your waist. the way he could distract you from getting your work done in class made him chuckle.

his actions earned snickers from the backbenchers, but he was more accomplished upon seeing your adorable frown every time you turned to look at him. 

one more time. just one more time, and i swear–

“park jeongwoo, i swear i am this close to–” you seethed, holding your index and thumb together with just a sliver of space between them. “-ripping your fingers out of your hands, for real.”

the class fell into a pin-drop silence at your outburst, followed by your teacher kicking you out of the class along with your best friend.

despite your whining about how you did nothing wrong, you found yourself outside your class, mustering the harshest glare you could as you faced the one who got you into this mess.

you really wanted to be angry at him; you really did. but alas, one look at each other, and the two of you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles.

fuck park jeongwoo and his fucking handsome face.

jeongwoo smiled. “damn, stop looking at me like that; i’m blushing,” he teased. “i might just think you want to kiss me, love.” he chuckled, his shoulders bouncing as he laughed.

“oh, you think about that a lot, don’t you, park?"

ACT FIVE — UNREQUITED

“will you just shut up and eat this, y/n?” jeongwoo sighed, not wanting to give up on his attempt to make sure you were properly getting your meals.

you whined. “woo, i’m literally carrying our team right now. one wrong move and we lose, so can’t i please eat later?” you asked, hoping he’d listen to your pleas.

“you’ve been telling me that for the last hour. i’m not falling for that again.”

“woo, please. come on, don’t be like that.”

jeongwoo shook his head, grabbing your collar as he pulled you closer. “i’m ending this game right now, guys,” he said into the headset. “i need to make sure my girl gets her meals,” he stated, and with a few clicks, he ended the game like he promised.

it made you laugh, seeing how the bare proximity between you and your best friend knocked the air out of your lungs while he seemed absolutely normal. his gestures, his words, his behavior — everything drove you crazy.

you didn’t really know why you felt like this, but then again, you knew exactly why.

“my girl, huh?” you focused on something else to distract yourself. “didn’t know i was yours.”

jeongwoo chuckled, nodding. “you would love that, wouldn’t you, love?” he quipped, clearly teasing you.

fucking hell, yeah, i would. 

ACT SIX — REALIZATION

park jeongwoo sat between his friends, hands fisting in anger as he tried to register what they were talking about.

why would y/n date someone and not tell me about them?

“nah, but like, the way he asked her out was also cute, though,” sumin stated, noting the way jeongwoo’s expressions changed with every word he spoke. “with all her favorite snacks and those cute little notes.”

jinsik snickered, understanding what his friend was trying to do. “yeah, honestly, they are super cute together too,” he agreed. “i can’t believe it’s been one month since that day,” he added, instantly getting the younger male’s attention.

“wait, what? one month? y/n’s been dating him for a month?!”

“yeah, you didn’t know?”

jeongwoo scoffed. “of course i didn’t fucking know,” he grumbled, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“i mean, it’s understandable.” jinsik shrugged. “hyunwoo is a mutual friend of you and y/n, so maybe they wanted to keep it low-key in case it didn’t work out.” 

why would you date one of my best friends and not tell me about it, y/n?

“no, it’s not understandable!” jeongwoo stated, raising his voice angrily. “how can y/n just date someone and not tell me?!”

“you are mad at y/n?”

“well, wouldn’t you be mad at your best friend if they were dating someone behind your back?”

sumin couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head. “actually, if i were you, i’d be mad at hyunwoo.” he shrugged. “you’ve known hyunwoo longer than y/n, so why are you mad at her?” he asked.

jeongwoo fell silent at his friend’s words, not understanding the logic himself. 

exactly why was he mad at you more than hyunwoo? 

though you were both his best friends, jeongwoo knew hyunwoo longer, so it was confusing as to why he was mad at you more.

“are you mad at y/n for not telling you?” jinsik inquired, raising his brows as he looked at jeongwoo. “or are you mad at yourself because all it took was a stupid lie for you to realize you like her?”

“huh, what?”

“y/n’s not dating anyone, jeongwoo. we just made it up because we know you like each other, but you were just too oblivious to notice it,” sumin admitted. “you like y/n, jeongwoo.”

yeah, i guess i like her. quite a lot, actually.

ACT SEVEN — CONFESSION

park jeongwoo stood outside your house, going over the words he wanted to tell you in his head.

after that chat with his friends, the brunet couldn't help but feel like an idiot, realizing how stupid he must've made you feel with his words and actions.

and all it took was for his friends to lie to him, for him to realize he had fallen for his best friend.

before he could gather the courage to ring the doorbell, you opened the door, having seen him standing outside for quite a while now.

for some reason, your best friend was distancing himself from you, and you didn't know why.

and now that he was finally at your doorstep, you approached him first before he changed his mind and ran away.

"woo," you softly muttered, cracking a small smile at him. "is everything alright? you haven't been answering any of my texts or calls properly lately."

park jeongwoo felt his heart break as he heard the disheartened tone in your voice, followed by the little pout on your lips.

"i'm sorry, love. i really am."

"n–no, it's alright. i just–"

"i'm sorry for not realizing it sooner." jeongwoo shook his head. "i'm sorry you had to think i never felt anything for you."

your eyes widened in shock, head tilted in confusion as you looked at the male standing in front of you.

he nodded, seeing your confused look. "i like you, y/n. and i was an idiot to not have realized it earlier," he admitted. "i like you very much."

"really?"

"yeah, we were always best friends, and i never thought i'd have to lose you to anybody. but the thought of you looking at someone else the way you look at me drives me crazy, and i wouldn't be able to live with that, you know?"

you teared up a little at his words, realizing they were truly heartfelt. you had never felt more loved by the way he looked at you, eyes filled with affection.

"so, what i'm really tryna ask is," jeongwoo paused, taking a deep breath, "would you kinda sorta maybe wanna be mine?”

“i’m yours, jeongwoo. forever and always yours.”

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[ahundredtimesover]

Missing our plm couple extra today. Wonder what they’re doing 🫶🏼

I’ve had this on my drafts for a while and decided to finish it with the image of long-haired and glasses JK in mind. It sort of sets up the stage for the The Fight as well. I hope you enjoy 🥰

Title: Please Love Me Bonus 06 - I tell you everything.

WC: 4,421

Tags/Warnings: suggestive

Series Masterlist

Five minutes. Jungkook’s phone pings.

No 10.

Or maybe 15 sorry hun I’m still packing up but also it’s the last day of class so everyone’s chatting it up oh you can come in if you want! Another ping. 

Jungkook laughs at your run-on sentences and knows you’ll be cringing at them later. But he’s also imagining you looking a little stressed, trying to multitask between fixing your tools and saying your goodbyes to your classmates. 

He turns off the engine and exits the car. It’s when he gets another message - Kook, can you come? I need help with my things 🥺 - that he jogs the block to the art studio and makes a left to the hallway where your class is. 

He looks around, in awe of how the decor at the west wing quickly changes. In the half year that you’ve been enrolled in your drawing class, he’s visited you a few times and each time, the art pieces hanging on the wall have been different. He’d spied a few of yours, too, and he’d spent too much time just admiring your work and imagining what inspired you or what you were thinking, something he always asked you about later on. 

But one other thing he likes to do when he picks you up is peek through the half-wall window and not-so-creepily watch you work on your piece - focused eyes surrounded by your soft features, with only a look of determination mixed with pure passion for the craft. You did say you’ve come to love drawing after all. 

It’s through his visits that your classmates have come to know him, too - that first time, one asked if he was the nude art model and another yelled they wished he was. Jungkook didn’t miss your slightly embarrassed and flushed face when you finally claimed him as your husband. The room melted into a puddle, with oohs and ahhs reverberating through the walls when he greeted you with a forehead kiss and picked up your things as he often does. 

Jungkook does all those again today. He sees one of your pieces and imagines what you were thinking of as you painted the sky green, then he turns to the room where the sound of applause catches his attention. But then his smile - the one he’s been sporting since this afternoon when he got to free up his evening so he could attend your event with you tonight - fades, his eyebrows furrowing and a pout forming on his face. 

He’s familiarized himself with all your classmates and colleagues, and that half-naked man with firm pectorals and large biceps and chiseled jaw and sharp nose is definitely not one of them. 

Back inside, you’re busy putting away all your pencils giggling at the light banter between your classmates. You’d asked Jungkook to help you with some of your things and you know he’s probably waiting outside.  

Before your gaze wanders outside, you look around the room and meet deep-set, hazelnut eyes - intense and paralyzing as they bore into you. You’re quite surprised, and as you zip up your bag, you accidentally hit your easel. You shut your eyes as reflex, ready for it to make that sound as it hits the floor. 

But it doesn’t.

“You nervous or something?” 

The man’s voice is deep. It’s familiar, and as you look up, you know why it is. 

He’s putting in place the easel that you almost knocked over. He’s got a smirk on, and you wonder if your flushed form has anything to do with it. You didn’t really expect that the man whose backside you were drawing just minutes ago would be speaking to you. The models for your nude drawing class don’t exactly interact with the artists - it’s kind of weird to do that when strangers have basically seen every part of you. 

But he’s here in front of you with a twinkle in his eyes that have now softened, and you’re only able to shake your head. Sure, he's handsome, but he’s also still half-naked - you’re not exactly sure how to process that outside of your drawing bubble.

“You’re rushing, then?” He asks.

“Uh, sort of?” You chuckle, relaxing a little as you try to focus on just his face.

“That’s a shame. I heard that Mrs. Yang’s treating your class to dinner and she invited me. I was really hoping I’d see you there,” he replies.

“Oh? I’ve got an event tonight. Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Sort of,” he chuckles now. “I’ve modeled for some of her other classes and no one draws me quite like you do. They seem so real and so intimate. Mrs. Yang said I could personally ask you if I could bring home your drawings of me. I like how you’re able to capture the—”

He’s cut off by the sound of a throat clearing and Jungkook turning you towards him with a deep kiss on your lips, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he lingers on your skin.

“Hey, babe,” he says.

“Kook,” you blink up at him, surprised again by the desperation in his actions. “Hi,” you recover, smiling at his presence despite the scowl on his face. 

“You ready to go?” He sounds in a hurry, uninterested.

“Yeah, I was just talking to Samuel. He was asking for my drawings of him.”

“Is he now?” Jungkook arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms. He looks up and down the man in question who still has a smirk on his face.

“I am,” Samuel replies, assessing your husband from head to toe just the same. “___ draws me so beautifully. Her pieces make the hours-long process of posing nude all worth it. She’s got an amazing eye, among other things.” 

If you didn’t really care much for him earlier, now, you don’t care much for him at all. You want to tell him off for how shameless he’s being, but the selfish and silly part of you wants to know how your husband would react and well, follow up that sudden kiss he gave you to get your attention.

“She does,” Jungkook replies. “She’s obviously talented but she’s also had some practice. I mean, I’m her muse when it comes to this… nude drawing thing and yeah, I know all about posing for so long being worth it.”

Jungkook gives you a naughty smile and you know exactly what he’s thinking about. “It’s quite the gift when you’re married to an artist, you know?”

“Ah, you’re married, I see,” Samuel hums, glancing at your left hand that’s now sporting the ring that you remove every time you draw or paint.  “That’s good. For both of you. Not for me but yeah, I shouldn’t be surprised,” he turns to you, chuckling now, realizing at how stupid he seemed. “But can I still keep the artwork, if that’s okay and not weird for your husband?”

“Her work, her choice,” Jungkook responds. 

“Sure, if it’s as nice as you say it,” you shrug, not minding much. It’s always a compliment when your model reacts that way to your final output. “You can just ask Mrs. Yang for them.”

“It is, I truly mean it,” Samuel smiles more genuinely this time. “And yes, I’ll choose the best one, although that might be difficult. They’re all great.”

“Thank you, Samuel,” you grin, not interested to keep this on. “I’ll get going now. It was a pleasure.”

“It was. I hope to see you around,” he smirks again, and you don’t miss the scowl that graces your husband’s face once more.

You wave goodbye to your classmates and tell them you’ll catch up with them another time. It’s when you exit the building that you turn to Jungkook, his frowned expression turning into a pout. 

“What was that, Mr. Jeon?” You giggle. 

“What?” He’s defensive, even as he takes your hand and leads you down the street. 

“Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing with that kiss and head-to-toe look and hidden meanings in your words, hmm? Are you threatened?”

You’re teasing, a rarity for you because Jungkook does get quite jealous and you’ve never wanted to push him, but something about him in his work attire, rolled up sleeves with tattoos exposed and all that makes you want to just try. He looks tough like this, especially with his hair that he’s growing out, but the glasses he’s been wearing more frequently just makes him adorable. It’s a kind of sexy that you’ve been enjoying lately. 

“Just never seen him before,” he shrugs. “And he was obviously flirting with you. Like, ‘you’ve got a great eye among other things’? What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Yeah, I thought he was just being friendly until that,” you laugh. “He’s modeled just 3 times including today. He’s apparently an artist, too, so he knows a lot about forms and stuff. So that’s kind of nice, being complimented like that.”

“Hmm, probably. You also couldn’t stop looking at him.”

“Hey!” You nudge Jungkook. “It’s only because his body is so overwhelming, you know?”

“And what about mine?” He frowns.

“Perfect - just the way I like it,” you turn towards him, stopping him in his tracks so he could look at you and see the love in your eyes. “You, my dear husband, are the most handsome and sexiest being in this world, with or without clothes, and I absolutely adore every inch of you, every ridge and every dip and every beauty mark and every scar.”

You cup his cheeks and feel them rise to his eyes as he can’t help but smile at your words. 

“No need to worry, okay?” You assure. “Classes are over and I’m satisfied with my nude drawing abilities already, especially with the muse I’ve got.” You wink, liking how he blushes. He takes your hand and lovingly kisses it before kissing your forehead. 

“Hmm, might want to draw me again soon so that this is the only nude body you’ll remember,” he winks. 

“Oh trust me, this is the only nude body I remember,” you respond, resting your palms on his chest.

He takes the opportunity to pull you closer, his warm breath tingling your skin. “Good. I’ll keep reminding you though, maybe tonight? Or right when we get home?” He hums in satisfaction and kisses your lips.

You giggle in his hold. “Kook, we’re in public,” you remind him, as an old woman chuckles as she passes by you both. 

“I don’t care,” he huffs.

“I do,” you answer, though your words don’t have a bite in them.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he arches a brow.

“Do I need to?” You tease, tracing his defined pecs underneath his silk polo as you bite your lip.

“Fuck, let’s go.”

You arrive at the grand estate of Mr. Lee that’s right at the edge of the city. It took a while to get here, as you and Jungkook took too much time feeling each other up before you actually got dressed, but it was something you didn’t mind. He gets riled up when he gets jealous, and you’d shyly told him it was quite a turn on. You would’ve passed up on this event if it wasn’t so important to you, and he understood. He promised to continue what you’d both started after, though, and that really got you smiling. 

The mansion is buzzing. Clanking sounds of champagne flutes, soft munching of canapés, and laughter and conversations fill the grand room and the hallways nearby. There are many familiar people - and not because you know them from the art world, you know them because of your family and Jungkook’s. Those present in the viewing of Mr. Lee’s private art collection are big names in the business and entertainment industry, after all. But they’re here by personal invitation and their appreciation of art, including you.

It’s a twice a year event, and you’re lucky that one of Mr. Lee’s granddaughters is currently your student in the weekly art class for children that you’ve been teaching for the past few months. Her mother befriended you and was kind enough to invite you tonight, and you couldn’t be happier, especially when Jungkook messaged you earlier that he was able to free up his evening to accompany you here. You’ve been busy with various projects on top of the classes you take and conduct, and you wanted to spend time with your husband, even if half the time you’d be gushing about the pieces anyway, something he said he wouldn’t mind at all.

You find your way to look at a contemporary piece, telling Jungkook about the artist, when someone calls your name. You turn to the side and see a familiar face. 

“Chi-won,” you smile. “It’s good to see you here.”

You return the hug that the man gives you and introduce your husband.

“You, too, although I figured you’d be here,” he grins. “You’re why I got invited in the first place. I heard you recommended the tattoo shop to Mr. Lee’s daughter. She came a few weeks ago and found out I collect art, too, and she invited me tonight. So thank you.”

“Ah, that’s wonderful,” you chirp. “She said her friends aren’t into the arts so she gives the invitations to even acquaintances whom she thinks would appreciate it. I’m glad you get to witness this, too. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Jungkook zones out a little once you and your friend start talking about the artists whose works are displayed in the estate. Somehow, art talk is only interesting to him when it’s you who’s talking, so he lets his mind wander a bit until he hears the words that sort of knock him out.

“Loving the tattoo, by the way. It looks really great now that it’s healed,” the man says. 

Saying it’s great means he’s looking at it, and looking at it means he’s got his eyes on the colored ink painted on the valley between your breasts. Much as Jungkook adores the low-cut neckline of your wine-colored satin dress, that obviously also means that other people get a peek at it, too. The tattoo is beautiful - it’s his birth flower, after all, and he feels blessed everyday that you got it because of him, and that he gets to marvel at it every single day. He just doesn’t like the thought of others having that opportunity, too.

“Thank you,” you gush. “You’ve got amazing people at the shop, and that’s because of you. I really love it, and so does my husband. Right, Kook?”

You turn to him and Jungkook manages a curt nod and an almost-whisper of “of course.” Is… is he the man who put this on you?

You and Chi-won say your goodbyes as he heads to the other wing, and you turn to Jungkook with his curious look mixed with a tinge of nervousness.

“He’s a tattoo artist at the shop where I got the flower done,” you say, realizing what your statement could imply once Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Oh! He didn’t tattoo me, Kook. He just owns the shop,” you explain, not wanting your husband to worry that another man got to see your bare chest. Jungkook’s face relaxes and you hear his sigh of relief. “I told you I’d get a woman to do it even if you didn’t ask for it. I don’t exactly want to expose my body to another man, you know?”

“Just me, huh?” Jungkook shyly smiles now. 

“Of course, honey. No one else.” You kiss his nose and like how his eyes close and how his features soften at the act.

You both continue the tour around the mansion. There’s an entire area dedicated to all the pieces - paintings, sculptures, mixed media art - and you gush at each one. Somehow Jungkook feels like it’s just you and him in your own little bubble. Even with the people you greet every once in a while, you choose to experience the collection with just him, even if you know he doesn’t understand half of the things you’re explaining - he’s said he likes just hearing the tone of your voice and the way your eyes crinkle when you talk about the things that make you happy.

Unfortunately, he has to burst that, as he takes an important work call and excuses himself. It takes 15 minutes but when he returns, there you are with yet another man gushing over you, it seems like, as the tall man with incredibly strong features and perfect hair shows you photos from his phone and laughs along with you.

Jungkook stands there, not wanting to burst the bubble you have with another person who gets you, in that sense - someone who gets your art, your world, your passion, and who gets to respond to you with more than just “ah, that’s cool,” the way he does. So he lets you have your moment, your space. He’ll step in in a while, he tells himself.

“Why is it that every time I see you in one of these things, you’ve always got that look on your face as you watch your wife socialize with another man from afar?”

Jungkook knows the voice before he even turns to the side and finds Kim Namjoon, your brother’s close friend and a staple in these events as an art collector himself. He’s become familiar to Jungkook, too, finding him during the times when he’s stuck on his spot as he chooses to observe you from afar. Because the man’s right - this happens more frequently than Jungkook likes to admit.

“It comes with marrying a talented and beautiful woman, I guess,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, it’s her world and she stands out,” Namjoon responds.

“She stands out anywhere, actually, with anyone,” Jungkook responds, letting the thought settle in before he continues. “The man’s this big shot executive and a single dad. His 5-year old is in her art class and the kid adores her so I don’t blame the guy for admiring my wife. She’s great with kids.”

“Is it really admiration, though? Looks like he’s just showing off his son to her,” Namjoon observes, as the man holds up his phone to show you various photos to both of your delight. You’re laughing along with the man, smiling as he shows more.

“Yeah? I mean, look at the way he looks at her,” Jungkook responds.

He should be used to it by now. You have a comforting charm about you, and if he wasn’t a stuck up teenager, he would’ve realized that very early on. But no; he’d shut you out and only got to see just how good it is to be around you once he’d married you.

Your students in art class are a testament to that - it’s no wonder you were asked to add another schedule because the kids enjoy your sessions that much. Their parents are a testament to that as well. Even strangers are. But it hits differently, as he sees how the man softly watches you laugh and coo at his own son. There’s a certain glow on your face when it comes to children - Jungkook won’t blame anyone for finding that beautiful. 

“Hmm, it’s nothing compared to the way she looks at you, though,” Namjoon says. “You’d be laughing or something, or socializing when you’re in your world, and she’d be looking at you with the brightest stars in her eyes.”

Jungkook looks at the older man with questioning eyes. 

“I’ve been to some of your family’s galas, Jungkook. She hangs with me sometimes when you’re off to do your duties, and it always made me smile how adoringly she looked at you, whether up close or from afar.”

“That’s, uh… that’s nice to know,” Jungkook hums, feeling his heartbeat quicken. 

“And it shouldn’t be news to you anymore. She may be catching a lot of people’s attention but at the end of day, all she wants is you.”

And right on cue, you look around and find him, your soft eyes asking if he’s okay. Jungkook nods - to you and to Namjoon’s suggestion of going over to you. 

“Hey, hun,” you take his hand as he gets closer. “This is Woobin, Sunoo’s dad. He was just showing me photos of them painting the new playroom.” You turn to the other man. “This is Jungkook, my husband.”

“Hi,” Jungkook shakes Woobin’s hand. “So you’re the father of the famous Sunoo. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ah, so she’s talked about him,” Woobin chuckles. “And yes, I am. My son adores your wife, as many of the kids and their parents surely do.”

“___ talks about the kids at her class all the time,” Jungkook smiles, realizing it now. “They just make her so happy.”

Despite your busy schedule full of your own classes and the ones you run, on top of your actual job at the art firm and being an artist yourself, you’re devoid of any stress once you start talking about your students. You know what they like to paint or draw, know how to help them improve, and have so many ideas to make them appreciate art even more. It’s no wonder they love you as much as they do.

“Ah, that’s no surprise. I’m just glad my son got to enroll in her class. I heard it’s tough to get into it now since she’s in demand,” Woobin states. “But it was nice to meet you, Jungkook, and nice to see you again, ___. Sunoo will be happy to know I saw you tonight.”

You and Jungkook bid him goodbye and you turn to your husband, smiling sweetly at him. 

“I’ve seen everything tonight,” you inform him. “Another round of desserts and then we can go?”

“Sure, but I’m suddenly craving for churros and ice cream,” he responds.

“Hmm, let’s go to McDonald’s, then.”

“Alright, but uh, are you cold? Do you want to put this on?”

Jungkook removes his coat and offers it to you, and though you know the breeze outside is manageable, you take it, somehow wanting him much closer tonight. You also know that perhaps it’s your low neckline that he’s a bit wary of. 

“Sure, Kook. Thank you.”

You lean on Jungkook’s shoulder and hum in satisfaction over the strawberry-flavored sundae. “Hmm, this is almost just as good as the desserts at the event.”

“Babe, McDonald’s is always just as good or better than anything,” Jungkook says with a half-full mouth. “It’s truly amazing.”

“It is. Somehow it cleanses our palette of rich-people stuff, doesn’t it?” You laugh and he joins you. It’s something that sparked your bond in the beginning, after all, and that hasn’t changed. 

“Yeah, but it’s also just my happy food, you know? Grease, sweets, unhealthy stuff… delicious.”

“Happy food, huh? Did something upset you tonight? Or maybe someone?” You ask, wanting to know if him stepping away while you spoke with Woobin has something to do with it. 

“Not really. Woobin didn’t cross a line,” Jungkook says, an admission that he knows what you’re talking about. “I mean, he was looking at you like a man with a crush, though, and I can’t blame him but he knew his boundaries. Good for him.”

“Of course he does, Kook. He knows I have a husband.”

“Yes, after you told him you couldn’t have coffee with him when he asked you out, which means that he was interested and he probably still is, like that nude model who was definitely into you.”

You turn to look at him who’s busy with his sundae but clearly bothered, but not enough to be angry. You’ve always been honest with him, the way he’d always been honest about the women at the Clubhouse who’d thrown themselves at him after one of his soccer games. You’ve always trusted each other, and you’re just glad that that’s always been enough to not have any miscommunication or arguments because of it.

“Ah, Samuel. Yeah, that was new.”

“Oh? He’s never hinted on a crush? Dude was looking at you like you were all he could see,” Jungkook shakes his head. 

“Yeah, then you came in with a kiss and swept me off my feet,” you teasingly roll your eyes. “How romantic.”

“Sorry, it was just reflex,” he explains. 

“I know, but you have nothing to worry about, okay? I tell you everything. Maybe not the mundane interactions or insignificant things that I easily forget but the important ones.”

“I know,” he says, smiling at you. “And you know I tell you everything, too.”

“You do,” you smile back. “But thank you for making it tonight. You’ve been so busy and I’m just glad I got to be with you.”

“Anything for you, babe. You’ve been so busy, too, and honestly, I didn’t mind moving the meeting with my father since I wasn’t really ready. Plus, all I had to say was that I was accompanying you to an art event and he let me go. You’re a spoiled daughter-in-law, you know that?”

You laugh at his teasing and the fact that your husband had the gall to ask his own father and boss to move a meeting for you. 

“I am, actually. And now it benefits you, too!”

“It benefits both of us,” he corrects. “But tonight was good. I mean, I kinda had to ward off certain men but I didn’t mind. It was still a fun one.”

“It was,” you hum, basking in his boyish smile and the twinkle in his eyes. Something comes alive inside you when he looks at you this way, and amidst the midnight buzzing of a McDonald’s in the city, you move closer and kiss his lips, gentle but wanting, and you feel him smile even wider against you.

“Babe, we’re in public,” he teases, and much as he likes to do that, he also enjoys it when you get a little flustered even when you mouth that you ‘don’t care.’

You peck his cheek and pull him, and as you walk to the car with his coat over your shoulder, as you talk about the art collection all the way home, and as you share a bath and then lie bare underneath the covers with your tangled limbs, Jungkook only knows this - this is your world, and in the one you both share, you’re the only two people who matter.

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[harlowtales]

Jack has nightmares and trouble sleeping and goes to his personal assistant for comfort and to tell her how he feels.

18+ sweet couples❤️

“Stay tonight. I promise no funny stuff.” Jack said. It had been a late night of traveling and you and Jack and his crew were finally back in Kentucky. On the road something happened where Jack apologized for not being completely professional and you had got past it so this offer to stay over had you suspicious. At the risk of losing your job you declined.

“Jack I would love to but given the situation it would be…” You started to say

“Inappropriate? Not professional” He mocked and finished your sentence

“Exactly” You affirmed “I’m going to get Neelam to take me home. Goodnight Jack.”

“Goodnight y/n.” Jack said sullenly as he saw you out.

You had trouble settling in and stayed up to binge on Netflix when you heard a soft knock on the door. You opened the door to find Jack standing there in his bonnet and pyjamas.

“Jack? What on earth are you doing here?” You said surprised and yawning “Are you ok?”

“Uh no.” He said wringing his hands “Can I come in?”

“Of course” You said letting him walk past into your tiny apartment.

“Cute place.” He said looking around

“Thanks. It’s cozy.” You said “Are you ok Jack?” You said concerned

“I had a nightmare…again…well I have them every night but this one really shook me up and I went for a drive and wound up here.” He explained

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked

“No.” He said shortly

“Ok…well do you want to watch a movie?” You asked trying to figure out how to help him.

“Can I sleep with you? Not like that! I mean just like for comfort not anything like that.” He asked

“Ummmm I don’t know Jack.” You said unsure “My couch is available if you like.”

“Y/n please forgive me coming onto you.” Jack pleaded “I thought you were feeling me. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Jack apologized

“It’s fine. I wish it were different honestly.” You said kindly “But I need this job and Neelam trusts me.”

“I know…you’re right. I’m sorry.” Jack said making himself comfortable on your couch

“Goodnight Jack sleep well.” You said as you headed to your room.

Jack tossed and turned. He had been having a terrible nightmare for weeks on end that he didn’t want to talk about. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep and woke up to the smell of bacon sizzling. “Did you sleep well?” You asked smiling and your hair was in a messy ponytail and still in your pyjamas. It took everything for Jack not to want to kiss you again.

“Um yeah I did thanks.” He said taking off his bonnet and shaking out his curls. You tried not to notice.

“Please sit.” You said motioning for him to have a seat at your little table. You dished out a nice helping of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs and pancakes.

“Holy fuck y/n. You went all out. That’s so sweet.” Jack said. He began to wolf it down. He often was so busy he forgot to eat. “Oh my fucking god.” Jack said with his mouth full. “What the fuck do you put in your fucking pancakes??”

“Just some nutmeg and cinnamon, ooh and vanilla. You like them?” You gushed. It was a treat watching Jack really eat for once.

“Like them???” Jack said his eyes wide “Urb has to have these!! I’mma rub this right in his face.”

“Ok since you’re here I would like to go over the tour schedule coming up.” You said getting right to business and adjusting your glasses which wasn’t making anything easy for Jack.

“Can you put that laptop away?” Jack said furrowing his brow

“Ok….Jackman what’s going on with you?” You asked. He was acting so weird lately

He sat back in his chair and put his fork down and looked at you with his head to one side fiddling with his beard as he often did when he wanted to choose his words carefully. “Imma say this.” He said “I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.” You said slowly suddenly feeling a bit faint.

“Now what I do about that I don’t fucking know.” He said crossing his buff bare arms.

You sat in silence and watched him finish eating as tears welled up in your eyes. “I’m fired aren’t I?” You said through your soft sobbing.

“Ah hey shhhhh. No…well maybe.” He said with a bit of a grin. “Come here.” He motioned for you to sit on his lap. “I can get you other opportunities. I won’t do that to you.” He promised as he wrapped his arms around you “but with the way I’m feeling, you working for me would be too hard. I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “K great there goes my apartment. I can’t afford to not have something steady.” You said fearfully

Jack realized you had real worries and stopped kidding. “Y/n look at me.” He said “I want us to be a thing. Like for real.”

“I don’t know what any of that even means.” You said blowing your nose from crying

“You’re the most fucking adorable thing I’ve ever seen. You’re hard working, great with people. I know we can find you another job. What I’m worried about…what keeps me up at night…is not being able to find another girl like you.”

You didn’t know what to say and just turned and gave him a big bear hug. “So is that a yes? I can fire you and you be my girl?” Jack said rubbing your back

“Yes Jack please fire me!” You said smiling wiping your tears and laughing all at the same time.

You shared a kiss and he picked you up bringing you over to the couch that was only a few feet away in your tiny place. You got under a big quilt and laid on his chest. He kissed the top of your head and picked up the remote. “Now what were you watching?” He said as he turned the TV back on.

“Oh shit no!” You said trying to take the remote from him.

“What??!” He started laughing when he saw on YouTube that you were in your Jack Harlow section and all his videos came up. You had pretended you weren’t really a fan all this time. You sank under the blanket in embarrassment and he tickled you.

“Hey let’s have popcorn” You said escaping the blanket and darting into the kitchen.

“Nice save y/n.” Jack grinned putting his hands behind his head of curls and breathing a sigh of relief that if he had you to snuggle up to he may never have nightmares again 😴

@itsyagirljaz @killatravtramp @heavyhitterheaux @ride4harlow @jacks-daycare

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 19 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: We've arrived to some vital bonding things...and next chapter includes a date haha! In other news, I'm wrapping up the story in my docs, so I'm pretty happy about that. As always, let me know what you think!

Christmas 1943, London

Being back in London should have felt like a dream come true.  Ruth had seen enough of misfortune and death during her time at Thorpe Abbotts.  She was well acquainted with disappointment and losing friends at this point.  War was war, after all.  She didn’t get to complain about much, given the fact that she still had all of her immediate family alive and well and her brother was currently with her. 

She wasn’t sure what Harding had been thinking, giving them all a weekend pass to London for the holiday season—and now the three of them were holed up in adjoining hotel rooms and Ruth just felt wildly out of place amidst all of the pilots and everything else that was going on. 

Currently though, there was a small gift exchange between the trio from Brooklyn.  Ruth supposed that her food poisoning of Robert Rosenthal the week prior didn’t count entirely as a Christmas gift or Hanukkah trade-off.  But he hadn’t even figured out that it had been her dessert that had made him sick and truly, she was just annoyed given the kiss that they had publicly shared at the Christmas dance at his request—because clearly they were a couple and needed to show that to people. 

Sitting stiffly in an armchair as Abe ripped open Rosie’s present, Ruth was almost struck with the domesticity of it all.  It almost made her stomach curl up in knots the way that this could be a scene out of Brooklyn itself.  Maybe the power was out back home and they were just at Robby’s.  It wouldn’t have been the first time something like that had happened. 

“Robby, this is such a nice watch!  You didn’t have to—” 

“Yeah well, every man needs a good watch.  And you’re—well, you’re definitely not a kid anymore,” Rosie said, leaning back on his hands with a grin. 

“Despite the illegality of that statement, I’m inclined to agree,” Ruth said with a sigh.  Her gaze flickered onto Robby briefly.  “Thank you for getting him that.” 

“It was no trouble.  He’s a good kid—man—definitely a man now.” 

“Nice save,” Ruth grinned.  “I suppose I should give you my gifts now before you both think I’m a Scrooge or something.” 

“Ooh, me first!” Abe exclaimed. 

Ruth just spared Robby a glance, gesturing at Abe in disbelief.  “And you call that a man?  I don’t think so.” 

“Ruthie!” Abe urged. 

A small smile crossed her features and she handed him a carefully wrapped box.  She was always the most meticulous wrapper of presents, needing every corner to be just so carefully done.  Abe tore through her hard work in seconds, opening up the box to reveal a small parcel of things. 

Inside the box lay a scarf, a pair of Jump Wings, a small picture of him and Mary from when they were kids, and some chocolate.  “Aww, Ruthie—this is—” Abe could barely bring himself to finish the sentence. 

“Well the scarf is for when you get cold.  The Jump Wings were a gift from a Colonel to me after I helped him with a few cases—I thought you could use a good luck charm for when you’re going up in the air.  I want you to actually write a letter to Mary so this is my way of guilting you into doing that.  And the chocolate is because I know you’re a growing boy.” 

She had no sooner finished her sentence when her brother was flinging his arms around her tightly.  For just a moment, Ruth was taken aback by the sudden physical contact of another human being touching her.  And then she relaxed into the hug.  Because this was Abe, this was her boy, and he meant the whole world to her. 

“I do love you very much, even if I don’t say it very often,” Ruth murmured in his ear. 

Abe broke away from the hug, eyes positively shining.  “I love you too, Ruthie.” 

Robby had a pensive look on his face as he glanced between the two siblings.  For a fraction of a second, he had been tempted to tease Ruth about the fact that she had actually said the dreaded ‘l word’.  But this didn’t feel like the right time for teasing, not here and now.  That felt cruelly out of the spirit of the season. 

For a second there, he actually wondered if Ruth would be a more likable person if she were like this all of the time.  The thought made him shudder. 

“And this is for you,” Ruth stated dryly, handing him over a small box. 

“It’s not poisoned is it?” 

“Well I’m not your wife, so no.” 

“Funny,” Robby replied, suspiciously glancing at the small box before opening it.  There was a navy tie that rested inside and atop the tie was a very old pen—one that was immediately familiar to him.  “A dried out pen?” He choked out, eyes going wide at her. 

“Oh come on, I said I’d return it at some point, didn’t I?” Ruth questioned smugly. 

“A pen?” Abe asked, gaze flickering between the two of them in confusion. 

“Miss Congeniality over here broke a pen before class one day and I lent her this one,” Robby said, holding up the pen. 

“I got 100 on the test, so clearly the pen worked wonders.  I’m giving it back so that you have a good luck charm when you go up in the air.” 

“That’s—” 

“Don’t get patronizing there, dear.” 

Robby let out a huff.  “I was going to say that it was oddly sentimental of you.” 

“I have my moments of sentimentality, contrary to popular belief,” Ruth replied lightly.  

“And the tie?” 

“I don’t like the ugly beige tie on you.  It does nothing for your eyes.  If you’re going to be my fake boyfriend, know what colors you look good in,” Ruth stated smugly.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How the hell do you put up with the snoring?” Rosie questioned, looking up from his own letters and gazing at Ruth. 

Ruth seemed unbothered by Abe’s strong sense of snoring that kept everyone else awake.  She just continued to pen her letters.  “Grow up with two sisters who snore and you share a room, you get used to this sort of thing,” she answered.  

“Sometimes I forget how many people are always at your house.” 

“Yeah me too,” Ruth set aside her paper, glancing over at Abe.  “Though it’s emptier now since he’s here, I’m sure.  Is uh—is Daniel doing alright?” 

At that, Robby set down his pen and paper and wiped a tired hand over his eyes.  “Yeah.  Last I heard from him, training was going well.” 

“That’s good.  Glad to hear it.” 

“You know you don’t have to do the whole small talk thing with me.” 

“It’s not small talk.  I’ve known your family forever,” Ruth said with a shrug.  “Your family might be the only other family I trust wholeheartedly.  Even if you are included in that.” 

“I didn’t know you cared that much.” 

“Well I prefer the term heinous bitch, but your mother is an angel and your father is practically a saint.  I would be plain crazy not to respect them or like them.” 

“Damn, that might be the nicest thing you’ve said in a long time.” 

“I do have my moments,” Ruth said with a small smile.  “Few and far between, but they’re there.” 

A beat of silence between the two of them.  He reclined into his chair, watching the snowfall outside.  “Why’d you keep the pen?” 

“Sentimentality.” 

“Bullshit.”

“Wow, that sorta language—what would your mother say?” Ruth grinned, gaze flicking back onto the floor.  Another beat of silence and then a light sigh.  “I did mean to give the pen back to you.  Things just got—busy?  I don’t know.  I got committed to the pen and giving it back meant that I had to be nice to you, so I wasn’t really feeling that at the time.” 

“But you kept it.  All these years.  And it doesn’t even have ink.” 

“No I suppose it doesn’t.  But—despite my tendency towards being mean, I do appreciate kindness in this world.  It’s a rare thing these days.” 

“Well for now, truce?” 

Ruth thought about the laxatives in the cake she had made, the jabs and comfortability that she had with Robby Rosenthal.  Being nice meant that you had the capability of hurting one another.  But if the expectation was already there, then there was nothing that could possibly disappoint her. 

So she just threw her head back and gave a snort.  “Not on your life, Rosenthal.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, on December 24th—Ruth received an urgent call from someone down in Central London.  It was from one of the offices dealing with the refugees that were flooding into England and had been there for a while. While she wasn’t sure why she had been summoned there and didn’t know what she would find, Ruth found it prudent to be there quickly. 

Dressing in a navy pantsuit and adjusting her collar in the car, Ruth glanced over at the office.  “Are you sure you want us waiting in the car?” Abe popped his head into the front seat, glancing between Rosie and Ruth. 

“They asked for me specifically, so yes.” 

“Well what if it’s some sort of German spy that wants to kill you?” Abe added. 

At that, both Ruth and Rosie’s gazes turned on him in a deadpan.  “This isn’t a spy novel and I think that if anyone tries anything, I’ll just beat them with my purse,” Ruth added for good measure.  “I’ll be back soon.” 

With that, Ruth hurried into the building.  After checking in, she was led down a hallway and Ruth was pulled aside by an aide.  “I don’t know if anyone’s told you why you’re here—” 

“Not really, no,” Ruth admitted.  “Is this on official business for the JAG-Corp?” 

“Personal, I’m afraid.  Two months ago, a young girl and a family came into London.  She wasn’t their daughter but they had been traveling for some time and she looked similar enough to them that it wasn’t a problem.  They’re from Belgium.” 

“A young girl?” Ruth questioned, gaze falling on the doorway that lay just beyond the woman. 

“She says her name is Liesel Braun and the only family she has left is the Sharpe’s from Brooklyn, New York.  Everything checked out and seeing as how you’re the only one here in London, we found it best to contact you.” 

Almost immediately, Ruth’s heart sunk in her chest.  Liesel was her younger cousin—her mother’s sister had married Otto Braun some years ago and they had been part of the family that had went back to Germany when their grandparents fell ill.  If Liesel was here and alone—

“Yes, I’m glad you did,” Ruth murmured.  “Will you take me in?” 

“Of course.  Though I should warn you, she’s not said a word the entire time she’s been here.  Silent as a mouse, that one.” 

All of those words were just background noise to Ruth as she followed the woman into the next room.  And sitting there with dull and mousy brown hair, thin as a stick and hollowed out cheeks, was her thirteen year-old cousin Liesel. 

For a moment, Ruth wasn’t sure what to do or what to say.  She recognized her from the pictures that her mother had—before she had lost contact with that entire side of her family.  Ruth just stood there for a moment, purse in hand and gaze on the girl.  “Liesel?” Ruth finally said in a soft tone.  “I’m Ruth, I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Adaline’s oldest—” 

Liesel moved as quick as a shadow and the next thing Ruth knew, Liesel was clinging to her like she was a lifeline.  And all Ruth could do was hold the young girl and try not to let her own tears spill from her eyes.  

“It’s alright.  I’m here now.  I’ve got you,” Ruth murmured.  “You’re safe.” 

But even as she said it, she felt the hollowness of her words—this was war.  And nowhere was safe. Not now.  Not until it would all be over. 

[junekissed]

hui's moving castle

member — bf!jun x gn reader genre — fluff, humor word count — 1.1k warnings — jun wears a howl costume, reader wears a sophie costume (no pronouns mentioned + not very detailed description), hoshi cameo & he’s addicted to sugar cookies notes — lowercase intended, this is for all the howl simps out there, not requested but tagging @pepperonidk my fellow howl enjoyer :) hope you like this!

one reblog = one sexy animated wizard

“honey, there’s a package here for you!”

you’ve just picked up the box when you hear jun call from down the hallway: “don’t open it!”

he comes sprinting out into the living room a second later, bouncing like an eager kitten. you hold out the brown box and he grabs it from your hands. he turns it right side up so he can read the return address, then breaks out into a grin when he realizes what it is. “yes! it’s here! finally!”

you hold up your hands and step back, giggling. “woah, calm down! what did you even order?”

he smiles proudly. “my halloween costume! i’m so glad, i was afraid it wouldn’t come in time for tonight.”

“ooh! what is it? you still haven’t told me what you’re gonna be.”

“and i’m not telling,” he says, hugging the box to his chest. “i want you to be surprised.”

you raise an eyebrow. “fine. but there’s only a couple hours ‘til everyone gets here, you better get ready fast.”

“i’ll do it super quick,” he promises, already inching backwards, tripping over his feet a little with excitement.

“do you want me to help?” you ask as he stumbles backwards over the rug at the edge of the hall.

“no!” he groans. “surprise, remember!”

you laugh. “okay, okay! i’ll be out here finishing up these cookies if you need m-”

but before you can even finish your sentence, he’s gone, darting back down the hallway and into the bedroom to change. you head back into the kitchen to finish prepping the food, smiling to yourself. 

~

you’re just adding the finishing touches of orange frosting to the last sugar cookie when you hear a door squeak and hear jun call out, “babe! i’m ready…”

you jump up from your chair and run to the living room. all the suspense has made you curious about what he could have possibly chosen for his costume.

“i’m waiting, junnie! are you gonna come out or what?”

“okay!” he says through the closed door. “here it is!”

finally, the bedroom door swings open and he walks out. “ta-da!”

you gasp, your hands flying to cover your mouth. “jun–! you didn’t!”

and when you see his wide smile at your surprise, you know it was more than worth the wait.

he’s dressed as howl, your favorite character from one of your favorite movies, howl’s moving castle. the puffy sleeves of his white shirt drape loosely from his wrists as he holds his arms up for you to see the full costume, long thin strings dangling down. the pleated black pants fit him perfectly, and a black sash tied around his hips accentuates his lean, defined waist. the costume is completed by a long sapphire pendant and olive green teardrop earrings that dangle lightly from his ears.

he spins on his toes to give you a full 360 view, the colorful diamond cape twirling around his tall figure. “so, what d’ya think?” he says, a grin plastered across his face.

“i… jun, i love it,” you say, mouth still hanging open in shock. you’d mentioned your favorite movie on a few occasions and even watched it with him once or twice, but you hadn’t thought he’d noticed how much you liked the main character.

“so this is why you wanted to dye your hair so bad,” you giggle.

“what, i can’t go blonde just for fun?”

you give him a playful side eye. “i never know with you. you’re always planning something. you’re suspicious.”

he steps towards you, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you in. his cologne is different tonight, familiar yet new; the sweet, comforting scent of warm laundry and apples fills your nose.

“but did you like the surprise?”

your goofy grin speaks for you, and junhui leans down to kiss the smile on your face.

you whine, suddenly realizing how boring your costume now seems in comparison. “you should’ve told me you were gonna be howl! i could’ve been sophie! we could’ve had the cutest matching costumes!”

“who says you can’t be sophie?” he grins mischievously.

you frown, confused. “it’s way too late to order it now, and i don’t have any of the stuff to make something like that. we could go to the fabric store, but i don’t even know if they’re still open–”

he giggles at your misunderstanding. “no, i mean, i already bought it for you! it came with mine, i ordered them together.”

your heart swells even more at the thought of him carefully planning, making sure to not only choose something for himself but also a counterpart costume for you.

you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze him tight, kissing him again.

"you're so cute, junnie."

"i try."

~

your living room is filled with chatter, light music playing in the background.

the blue dress matching jun's costume breezes around your ankles as you carry out another tray of decorated cookies for the guests. 

"how many more of these do you have? 'cause i'll buy them off you," soonyoung says, popping the final bite of his cookie into his mouth, wiping his fingers on the fabric of his tiger costume before reaching for another.

“i just sent you a batch last week, soonie!”

“and? i ate them all,” he pouts with crumbs scattered across his chin.

you laugh. relenting, you set the entire plate of cookies on the table in front of him, but warn him to save some for the rest of the party or you won’t make him any for christmas. he grins and nods eagerly, stuffing a cookie in the pocket of his pants.

you make your way to the other side of the room, sighing as you plop down on the couch next to jun.

“are you happy with the party?” he asks, throwing his arm around you.

“yeah,” you smile and lean into his side. “it’s been a lot of fun.”

he crosses his legs and leans father back into the couch, bringing you closer to him. you gaze out across the room, watching your friends talk and laugh and have fun, all dressed up as their favorite things.

“did you like your surprise?” he asks.

you grin, resting your hand on his leg, lazily drawing patterns across his thigh. “i did. thank you. for the costume, and for everything.”

he beams. “it's what i’m here for, baby.”

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[intheticklecloset]

Heya! I saw sentence starters were open, so I figured I'd send something in! No pressure though!^^ Maybe you could do something with ler Ranpo and lee Atsushi with the sentence starter, “You lose, I tickle you. Deal?” ?

I hope you're having a good day!!

Ooh, this is such a cute idea!! I never would have thought of a fic with these two! Thank you for the prompt! ^^

~~~

“If you win, I’ll let you off the hook. But if you lose, I tickle you. Deal?”

Atsushi’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t realized that swiping some of Ranpo’s chocolate as a gift for Akutagawa would bring such consequences, but he was here now, so he had to deal with them.

“O-Okay, deal,” he stammered, already glancing around the office like he was going to have any clue where to begin.

Ranpo grinned and leaned back in his chair lazily, waving a hand at him. “Go on. I’ll even give you a little longer than usual.”

Atsushi turned and bolted out of the office, hurrying down the hall to his coworker’s locker. All he had to do was figure out the code and break in before Ranpo came for him. Or, more specifically, for his chocolate – which Atsushi had stolen. That’s how he’d gotten into this situation in the first place. But it wasn’t his fault! Ranpo’s locker door had been left open, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have a ton of other candy…

Atsushi shook his head. No time for that now. He had work to do.

He tried everything obvious first – Ranpo’s birthday, Poe’s birthday, Fukuzawa’s birthday, the ADA’s founding date – nothing. All of it was wrong. Then he tried the time Ranpo had probably realized his sweets were missing, as well as a couple of other time-related combos. Again, nothing.

He was up against the world’s greatest detective. This was impossible!

The door to the offices opened. Atsushi froze as Ranpo strolled out into the hall, sauntering toward him with a smirk on his face.

“Figure it out?” he asked.

“N-No,” Atsushi replied, shifting into a sitting position. There was no point in trying to run, and really, didn’t he deserve this? He should have just bought the chocolate himself. It probably would have meant more that way…

Ranpo stopped in front of him and crouched, still smirking. “Really? I’m surprised. I figured you’d get it immediately.”

Atsushi frowned. “But…why would you make it obvious if you didn’t want me to get into your stuff in the first place? Which I shouldn’t have, I know, I’m sorry.”

Ranpo grabbed his ankle and dragged him away from the lockers so he was lying in the middle of the hall. Then he straddled him and gently began prodding into his sides. “If I was really mad, I’d be making you buy me twice as much as you stole. You wanna know what the code is, Atsushi?”

The weretiger giggled helplessly, embarrassed but willing to take this punishment for his crime. “W-Whahahahahat?”

“0-3-0-1.”

Atsushi’s eyes went wide. That was… “Ahahahahakutagawa’s bihihihihirthday? You knohohohow that?”

“Of course. He means a lot to you, and you mean a lot to us.” Ranpo’s smirk softened into a smile even as he switched tactics and started scribbling all over Atsushi’s belly instead. “So, you stole about five chocolate bars, right? I think a minute for every bar will do.”

“Buhuhuhuhuhut why wohohohohohould you make thahahahahat your cohohohohohode? And why tehehehehehehell me?”

“Oh, I’ll change it after this, don’t worry,” Ranpo replied, chuckling. “I just wanted to know how obsessed with him you really were is all~”

Atsushi felt himself blushing, and not just from the tickling making him laugh and squeal. “Rahahahahahahanpo…!”

[prisonprocess]

What’s Best About—Prison?

14.

Mike D. says:

I’m Mike, but everybody called me Mikey.  I was always the cute adorable one.  The one that the teachers liked, but also the other students, the other frat bros, the other interns, the other new attorneys in the firm.  The kinda guy that people call Mikey gets protected by a lot of shiny glass walls.  He’s always on the right side of the boss’s smile, the professor’s recommendation, the bartender’s “hey dude!”  Not to mention the annual statements on his trust fund.  When you’re Mikey, your ride is so easy, you barely feel the road.

Example: I used to sit at my desk in the Bancock Building and look out through my big glass window onto the street.  And what did I see?  In the summer I saw young professionals like me with their teal shirts clinging to their chests, not really sweaty, just trotting lightly along from Latte Lottie’s to their climate controlled offices.  In the winter I saw young professionals like me in their Barmani topcoats and their squeaky new North Nook boots, stomping proudly through the snow to their climate controlled offices.  And that’s what I saw.  I was surrounded by them; I was living in a world of Mikeys.

The Mikeys never noticed the non-Mikeys, the dudes that slowly mopped up the snow that the Mikeys tracked into the subway, the dudes that wandered into the office in their ugly little workie suits with their ugly names on their chests (“Tony” and “Jose” and “Mike”), the dudes that emptied the trash and fixed the A/C whenever the Mikeys complained that the temperature had reached 72 degrees.  But I noticed.  The muscles on the Mikeys came from the gym, not from Work.  The suits they wore might be expensive, but they wouldn’t keep the cold out.  The non-Mikeys were hard and solid.  They did the work.  They filled their suits.   They’d been put in uniform because guys like me needed to know what they were, and avoid them.  If the Mikeys crossed a line, they’d be given a Less than Favorable evaluation in the firm.  If the non-Mikeys crossed a line, they’d be living in a cellblock, someplace, for the rest of their lives.  

The important thing was not to get confused.  You’re making half a million a year.  Brevard and you have your townhouse in Hoboken.  And your three dogs.  And your friends who come for meats and treats on the weekend.  If you keep being who you are, you’ll be living in the Hamptons and commuting to your office in Washington.  You’ll spend time in Geneva.  You’ll do interviews. Your friend Matt is already assistant to the undersecretary.  He’ll help you to become the same.

So OK, I see the difference.  Which did I want to be?  The default position was, take another meeting, take another lunch.  The challenge was, can I live in a cage?

Finally I decided. It wasn’t hard for me to figure out how to do a crime.  The hard part was getting cuffed and pulled out of my office while all the shits who wanted my job were sending up waves of ooh’s and ahh’s.  Then there was the jail and the plea and the sentence and the bumpy ride to prison, chained to another shit-ass con.  But yeah, that happened.

And now I’m Mick. I’m one a the cons they drag outta the Pen when there’s a big snowfall on the streets in some important place, such as (guess where!) the streets around my former office.  They truck us in, and we spend the day slingin snow in our pretty orange striped suits.  Just so nobody thinks we’re human, right?  It’s somethin the Mikeys slow down to watch.  Sometimes the same Mikeys I knew in the office.  And yeah, it’s interesting . . . And, I dunno, embarrassing, I guess.  They recognize.  They point. They laugh.  They’re wearin a couple thousand dollars of office clothes, and all I got is 19.95 of convict stripes.  They’re the men.  I’m the monkey.  But I gotta smile on my face.

 Note: All stories by prisonprocess are purely fictional and have no relation to real persons of any kind.