#before millennial pausing and going '.....i missed this.'

[jrueships]

jaren waiting for his husband to come back from the war (therapy)

[mianaissante]

34+35 — jujutsu kaisen, n. kento 🩰

tags: face riding, 69, size difference kink, nanami kento/fem!!reader, established relationship, 18+, nsfw.

“ you drink it just like water, you say it tastes like candy”

୨୧ it is recommended to listen to 34+35 by ariana grande whilst reading

minors dni, enjoy!

one of many things you had to consider before dating nanami kento was his "alleged" wonderful libido. you thought he was the kind of man who'd pump in a few tries inside you and burst all over your womb and call it a day, no offense. but in several ways, nanami has proved you wrong of that god forsaken assumption.

he had the sexual drive of a horny teenager, even worse, one with a stash of all the latest sex magazines. the complete opposite of his usual demeanor, calm and collected, patient and understanding. it's as if when he's turned on he flips onto a whole new personality and it's game over for you.

and for all honesty, it had you questioning whether he was a sex addict.

not that you were complaining or anything, but maybe you were, because who in the hell would be able to keep up for more than 10 rounds? you were worried for your organs constantly being rearranged by his huge length, not that you were complaining either, you loved his dick and the way he strikes it inside like he memorized every nook of your walls.

but there are times when you give out and the next thing you know your inner thighs are bruised, laced with peppering hickeys paired with a pain you could not bare. your hips weren't any better too, they felt like they got detached from the rest of your body from the intensity of his rampaging thrusts.

and why were you thinking all of this while cuddling him in bed, watching a cute romcom on the tv in his room? you felt as though the air had become thick, in any shape or form, it was suffocating to say the least. your arms were hooked on his strong, broad, body, barely even reaching the other side because of his huge size.

with eyes on the movie, your legs were encircling his hips like a koala clinging to a tree. nanami wasn't a man of culture, to you atleast. he was like every millennial who was serious about their job, he didn't have any interests of anything, just work..and maybe a mix of you and coffee.

after a long week in the office and back to back flights from tokyo to malaysia, he was tired, and more evidently frustrated.

you were innocently watching the movie, breathing softly in his chest as he played with strands of your hair.

your eyes flicker softly from the screen to him, “ how was work baby?” a huff escaped from his lips, eyes sunken from all the sleepless nights he spent. your legs were running up and down against his and onto his hips, knowing how much he'd like it.

especially since it's been a month since you guys had done anything overtly sexual, you smiled.

“ work was the usual, i'm beginning to consider gambling and tricking men into giving me their millions” he jokes, the skin near his eyes crinkling as he simpered a small grin. “ i missed you so much.” he whispered on your forehead, planting a kiss on it softly.

“ me too,” you paused, stopping your legs from going down on his hips now. “ are you still stressed ken?” cooing, you removed your legs from his warm body, revealing the tent he had underneath the blanket that you both were in. “ was work so hard that you missed me?”

“ i'm still stressed” he says as a matter of fact, “ and yes it was bad enough that i missed you terribly sweetheart.” your eyes darted from his lips to his irises.

you removed the fabric away from your sticky body and away from nanami who adjusted himself to sit properly next to you. his eyes were burning with a glint of lust, “ darling, whatever are you planning right now you have to stop.”

“ why,” you pout, sitting in w. you splayed your hands on the bed between your thighs, head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“ i might be too much baby, we can't do anything right now.”

“ nonsense ken, let me help you.” you reached for his boxers, yes boxers, when at home and you're cuddling with him he's only in his boxers while you were in your usual pajamas which were tank tops and your flimsy sets of underwear.

you bit your lips, you just knew what you were getting into, but did he get bigger or was it you just tweaking? your gaze was met with his hardened sheath hidden from the world by his cotton underwear. as your hands were inching closer to his clothed dick, his hands, bigger, calloused, and thicker, envelopes yours. you glance at him, lips pursed.

“ let me atleast eat you out before we do anything more,” he pleads.

within a span of seconds all your clothes were tossed messily on the floor while nanami placed himself on the foot of the bed, his head on the edge of it with you shakily shimmying your underwear off.

“ are..you sure of this, ken?”

“ trust me on this sweetheart, i'll make you feel great.” he smiles, placing his hands on your hips, a grip tighter than usual.

“ won't you suffocate to death?” you ask him again, in case he'd ever change his mind..but you knew he was just as stubborn as you. “ i would love to suffocate between your legs, [name].”

“ w-well i haven't shaved and i—” he cuts me off, “ I don't care, just let me go down on you.”

you shook your head embarrassingly, it was going to be a long night indeed.

you swung your leg over his head, your knees coming into contact with both ends of his temples, “ sink down on me darling.”

your lips gaped, wanting to detest to his orders but you knew you couldn't, not when he's already licking his lips at the sight of your puffy cunt, a little wet from your initial interaction with him.

your heart was pounding louder than drums, thumping harder in your ears until it clouded your mind, you couldn't breathe. there was no doubt that you were turned on by this, and you were excited about it.

his firm hands guided your hips to settle on his face, you hovered above him slightly, just enough for his lips to meet with your slit, just enough for his tongue to nestle itself in your slick, you gulped, hearing his grumble.

“ you're not sitting down,” his hot breath fans with your heat, your body shuddered in the feeling, knees almost giving out. “ i'm scared i'll suffocate you, ken.” you trailed.

“ fine, i guess i'll have to make you sit down by yourself darling.” he lets go of your hips, leaving a red mark on your skin from his intense grip. you had your arms on top of his chest while you were on your tiptoes trying not to give out.

gentle fingers slithered its way towards your cunt, spreading your lips apart which revealed the plump flesh of your cunt. a soft erotic gasp erodes from your mouth, realizing his tongue was prying your pussy open. you were reeling in.

“ hah..shit,” it was as if you forgot how he felt like, licking you clean and dirty. nanami flicks your flesh slowly, circling his tongue repeatedly on your skin before teasingly tugging on your clit with his lips.

the blonde haired man spat on your gaping hole, tapping his tongue on and off it before swirling its tip on your pulsing clit. his lapping muscle felt so divine, it was as if you were reaching near heaven with the way he struck himself inside and around your dripping cunt.

“ k—kent—ohh!” you cried, biting the inner walls of your cheeks when he started to flatten his thick tongue underneath your heat, a constant pace of licking upwards with no stop, cupping your bud with his lips before sucking it in sharp breaths, the suctioning sending you else where besides earth.

your legs were shuddering against his feverish, tantalizing, kisses. “ just like that sweetheart,” he praised as he felt your hips bucking uncontrollably out of his simple actions. “ attagirl,” he grins beneath your slick, sucking harder on your clit while his tongue flicked it around in left and right motions, vandalizing your innocence.

“ sh—shit,” you managed to let out a gutteral moan, your hands were now crumpled against his chest, knees still swaying while you lost your balance. “ k—kento—hah” a knot in your stomach began to wrinkle in, closing you with a gap you knew too well.

his movements began to be more erratic than usual, he was quick to his tongue whilst suctioning himself earnestly onto your clit. he was rough and god did it feel so fucking good. you couldn't help yourself up anymore and nanami noticed. his hands which held your cunt apart left and travelled down on your legs, letting you sink your knees onto the soft mattress which made you squat down on his face.

“ mhnm—right there—hah—ah!” eyes rolling back into the cave of your sockets, you felt yourself clutching harder on his chest as you tried to keep yourself afloat. it was too much, he was too much. nanami kept himself at a normal pace this time around, letting his ears enjoy the slick sounds of your wet slit seeping with juices.

“ you taste good, darling.” he groans beneath you, making use of his nose to run up and down your pulsing hole. “ sh—shit! kento!” fuck..holy shit, what the fuck was that? you were giving in, and you were almost there. you gave up crunching yourself in such a tight position and rose, arching your back in pleasure as nanami's strong hands grounded you against his big nose.

“ d—don't stop!” you whined, leaning backwards throwing your head back like an animal who just got loose. your hand found itself on the back of his head while your other toyed with your pebbled nipple, “ I don't on plan doing so,” he gruffed, taking a dose of you again, flicking his tongue in circles around your bud then suctioning again with his lips.

you were delirious at this point, finally sinking down on his face, the pressure fluttering your stomach ever so suddenly. “ fuck, [name], i completely forgot how great you taste..” he trembled, muffling out the words as his lips were against yours.

“ i missed your needy cunt babe, shit..”

your hips wove back and forth, shaking in circles and in infinities. “ fuck yes, yes, yes! kento!” with every strike of your grinds your voice became more vulnerable, you were feeling something pent up in knots, curling its way towards your end.

“ keep going baby, don't stop grinding,” he says, “ you're sweet as candy.”

those words were enough to spiral you down to your doom, it was a never ending sensation, toes curling as your thighs clenched on his head, which in turn made the man grunt in short breaths. “ hah—h—ngh—mhnn,” fingers clasped your hardened nipples, pinching whilst tugging aggressively as you rode harder, feeling his nose come into contact with your aching, seeping hole.

he smiled beneath your beautiful cunt which glistened with the mixture of your own secretions and his saliva. “ use me darling, however you want, just like that.” god he knew what words to say to make you feel like such a slut, such a filthy whore who's thirsty for his feverish touches.

you felt on edge, it was pooling in, your eyes were rolling back yet again, toes curling together, cheeks flushed in red, lips glowing in wetness, and legs shaking so aggressively, this was it. your hips struck one last time before slumping forward down on his body with your ass up, still giving him space to licking your pussy.

you spasmed on top, breathing sharply as your stomach began to tie together, contracting as your pussy pounced upwards with clear liquid spraying against the man's face. you just squirted on him, and he..was pleased. and with that you slumped further on his lips, your body now laying against his.

“ you're so fucking hot [name], you got me wet baby.” he grinned against your buzzing cunt still squirting the rest of the liquid out of its entrance, he fanned hot air against your pussy which made you shudder, licking you once again.

“ k—kento...fuck...” you were overstimulated, and more evidently, you were tired..and he just ate you out. your sleepy eyes left the corner of the room to his length which hid behind his boxers.

you just had to return the favor.

you rose a bit, reaching for his boxers then pulling them down to get a feel on his hardened dick. your hands dragged onto him, palming his sheath with bitten lips. you were so turned on just by touching the head of his cock.

the man behind you winced, groaning in his place as he ate you out eagerly, your fingers circled his tip, tapping on its opening before dragging it further down on its body, feeling every curve and nerve which rested beneath his skin. he wasn't this big last time, what happened?

“ sweetheart you don't have to”

his voice stopped you from reaching his balls, you looked behind him with a confused look.

“ you aren't feeling pleasure ken..”

“ i already am—” he reaches forward towards your cunt, flattening his tongue then swirling it in circles whilst pulling hard on your hips. “hearing the juices drip from your puffy cunt is enough for me baby..im so close”

“ let me help you ken..” you whisper, now palming his head in patterns before pumping it up and down using both hands. yes, both hands.

he denies you, shaking his head as a no, “ let me do all the work here sweetheart.”

you shook your head as no as well, “ hush kento, let me help...”

swiftly, you swished your hair to one side, facing away from him and onto his groin which rested his length. you gulped at the sight of it clothed, imagining what it would look like outside, not that you don't know..its just been so long since you've seen him.

sighing, you dragged his boxers down, his hips rising to help you with it. your eyes widened, lips bitten in surprise, his throbbing cock springs out from his underwear, finally facing you daringly.

you were trying so hard to focus as he was busy suctioning himself up against your bud, you just had to pleasure him in some way.

his length wasn't what you expected, for fuck's sake, it stood as tall as your entire head...as thick as your forearms. he was big already, just not this big. you swallowed a lump in your throat as you inched closer to him, smelling his hot sex feathering its way into your nose.

your lips found itself settling on his head, “ f-fuck..” he was that sensitive huh?

you stabilized yourself in his length, a hand palming his balls while the other pumped his dick. “ g—god, baby if you—” he stops flickering his tongue on your hole, letting his head sink on the plush bed. “ fuck,” he guts out while you squeezed your cheeks together around his head, your tongue circling it so hungrily.

he keeps up with your actions, both of you now drunken with each other's sexes, juices forever seeping away while you mindlessly swallowed his length. his dick was big, it was beginning to hurt, but got were you so turned on by his noises.

he was letting out soft gasps, hard groans, and dozens of praises, you could only clench your thighs hard by him.

you could only cover a few inches of his fat cock with your tight mouth, anything after that will choke you to death. “ keep going [name], don't stop..” he groaned against your slit, he was still going at it.

you smiled on his length, eyelids brimming to close as you sleepily fucked him with your lips, you felt guilty though, you couldn't swallow him down to your throat. maybe there was some way you could ease your way through it?

you spat on his dick, leaving your lips away from his head, a string of precum and saliva bridging it together. humming in pleasure, you pumped his hard cock with both hands your grip tighter and harder. “sweetheart, please...softer..i—i might—” he whimpers, eyes closing shut forcibly, his lips quivered with the way you dragged your hands up and down.

squelch, squelch, splat, squelch.

continuous sounds escaped from your mouth as your repeatedly sank yourself on his cock, trying not to brush your teeth against his length. he was already down your throat and your jaw was tired. up and down, up and down, up and fucking down, “ f-fuck baby...do—don't stop!”

you struggled to breathe but you too were feeling your high being met with nanami's tongue toying with your pussy like that. “ cum all over my face princess, i don't care.” he sighs, rolling his eyes back.

“ wet me with your juices, spray it on me like the slut you are baby.”

you felt yourself experience your second high, eyelids beginning to falter and you let out your final breaths before slumping on his dick, hot liquid invading the insides of your cheeks as you swallow his load clean.

did you pass out? your eyes fluttered open, nanami's dick was beside your head, still hard but you were sitting on his face as he gave you kitten licks.

“ you're finally awake?” he smiles, you pulled away from his face realizing what you've done. “ s—sorry— i—” he laughs, holding both your hands as you faces him, straddling his waist.

“ i'm fine darling, with that stunt you pulled off earlier, i didn't think i'd last longer.”

“ oh..” you glance behind you, his plump dick tapping on your ass. “ you're still hard?”

he hums, a hand running across your back and onto your ass, lifting it up before spanking it softly. “ let me help..” nanami grinned, pinching your nose, cupping your face then planting a soft kiss. “ of course baby.”

your boyfriend swiftly rose up from his position and slithered his arms around your back and on the back of your knees. he carried you to the head of the bed where all the pillows were.

“ nanami...” he flashes you his soft eyes, making his way between your legs with his erection twitching at the sight of your body. he finally closed the gap against the two of you, the back of his dick tapping onto your clit.

he gently smiles, “ i'll be gentle for tonight.”

you knew he was but when he gets drunk on your pussy he could get rougher and rougher by the second. this was a disaster waiting to happen, and you knew what you had gotten yourself into...

a long night of fucking with nanami would last hours, even days.

[musetotheworld]

No 5 for the nuggets! SuperCat all the way yo!

When Cat said she would be home in two weeks, Kara didn’t think that meant she’d wake up to a sharp rap at her door as Cat Grant stood in the hallway of her apartment building. Never in a million years would she have guessed that would ever happen, let alone willingly.

But then, Cat’s always been one to surprise her.

“Did I miss an appointment request?” Kara asks as she opens the door, not bothering with glasses or a hair tie. Cat already knows her secret, and they’re well on their way to planning the reveal to everyone else. So Kara’s being careful, but not as careful as she used to be.

Cat doesn’t wait for more invitation than that, sauntering inside as if she visits all the time. “No, not this time. I was in the area and had a thought, so I decided to stop by.”

“In the area,” Kara echoes, not buying that. She’s never known Cat to visit this side of town, willingly or otherwise. And to be in the area at 6am on a Saturday seems doubly suspicious.

The questioning has Cat donning her ‘why would you ever doubt me’ mask, and Kara almost abandons that line of inquiry. But she’s a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist now, already hired on as CatCo’s newest Editor in Chief, and this is her apartment. She’s not going to start this conversation off by giving in.

“Okay, fine. You caught me. I had a thought last night before bed, and I couldn’t wait. Well, I waited until I woke up, of course. I need my two hours. But then I had Mark drive me right over.” Cat’s rambling in a way that Kara recognizes as being overcaffeinated without enough food to balance it out, and without thinking about it, heads towards the fridge to make them breakfast.

Because that’s apparently a thing they do now. Have breakfast meetings in Kara’s apartment.

Thankfully, she’s still got some of the higher-end stuff she knows Cat will tolerate, kept on hand out of long-standing habit from her time as Cat’s assistant. For the past few years it’s been used mostly as party fare when she has the superfriends over, but it’ll come in handy now.

“Egg whites only-”

“On the omelet, I remember,” Kara says with a smile. “And I promise, I can cook and talk at the same time. So what thought did you have last night?”

And okay, Kara can cook and talk at the same time, but when the thought of Cat dressed for bed flashes through her mind, it takes a burst of superspeed to recover before dropping the eggs on the floor. Apparently, that she can’t do if she wants to make something edible for them.

Cat doesn’t seem to notice, still pacing between the kitchen island and the dining table. “Well, it’s exactly what you mentioned earlier. The area. It’s not particularly impressive or prominent, is it? Not a bad neighborhood, but very millennial.”

“You know, I don’t think I technically count as a millennial,” Kara muses as she starts to beat the egg whites. She can’t use superspeed for that, though when it’s time to chop the add-ins, she can be done in a blink. “Seeing as how I spent the first half of my life on Krypton, not Earth.”

“Whether you are a millennial or not, the area definitely is, darling. And that’s passable, I suppose, for Kara Danvers, Pulitzer Prize winner. Lord knows we don’t value good journalism the way we should today. But it’s not quite the right look for Kara Danvers, Editor in Chief of CatCo Worldwide Media. Or, for that matter, Kara Zor-El, National City’s resident superhero.”

Pausing before she turns on the stove, Kara thinks that through. “You think I should move.”

“As a prominent figure in an international company, I would like to see you in a place that reflected well on that company. Particularly knowing the focus will be greater once you reveal your identity to the world.” Cat’s logic is sound, but she’s not done yet. “And as that superhero, I think you should be in a building with state-of-the-art protections in place for your apartment as well as the apartments around you.”

That was something Kara hadn’t considered. She’d spent hours talking with her friends about the best way to manage dangers and expectations once her secret is out, but she hadn’t considered her apartment could become a target. It wasn’t like that many people knew where she lived, after all.

But when one secret comes out, others can follow. And countless delivery drivers know her by name, not to mention all her neighbors. And even if no one talked, there were ways to find out someone’s address with very little effort.

“Even if no one targets this place, do you really think it’s set up to stop swarms of bottom-feeder rumor mongers from camping out in the hallway? Every tabloid is going to want a picture of Supergirl in a compromising position, and your windows don’t scream privacy.” Cat’s logic is well-founded, and Kara finds herself nodding as she considers the implications.

“I take it you have a solution?” Kara asks, getting back to her cooking.

“The second penthouse in my building was for sale,” Cat says casually, like they’re discussing transit times. “So I bought it, and it’s yours. The building is fully secured, and having you right there will make scheduling business meetings a breeze.”

And nope, cooking is once again on pause. “You bought me a penthouse?”

“I couldn’t let the opportunity get snatched up by someone else,” Cat explains like it should be obvious. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can sell it to you. But CatCo hiring bonuses for Director and above come with housing benefits factored into your salary, and since I own CatCo, it all works out.”

Kara can’t help but shake her head at that, knowing Cat’s lawyers have to be working overtime to figure that mess out. But still, it’s not like she can just turn down the offer. Cat’s right; she can’t stay here. As bittersweet as that realization is, she knows it’s true. And this entire decision is about moving forward, seeing who she can be as Kara Zor-El.

Just like moving out of Eliza’s house when she went to college, it’s time for Kara to make the next move in her journey.

“I do want to pay you back for it,” Kara decides, mentally skipping over the housing benefits section of Cat’s explanation. She still can’t believe she’s actually Editor in Chief, so she’s been doing that a lot. “But it sounds like the best option.”

“Excellent, I’ll have the lawyer drop off the packet later.” And of course she already had packets ready to go, Kara thinks with a grin. Cat has never stopped being able to read her like a book.

Turning back to her cooking yet again, Kara hums softly to herself as Cat wanders her apartment. It still feels surreal, but at the same time, it’s nice. And if she’s going to be living next door to Cat, it might eventually start to feel familiar. It already feels right; she just needs time to get used to things.

“Kara, why does this receipt say you ordered sixty chicken nuggets?” Cat asks just as Kara flips the first omelet onto a plate. “And ten large fries?”

“I needed a quick refuel,” Kara explains, starting up the first of her breakfast. “Sixty and ten are about the most I can order before they get suspicious.”

“You order this regularly?” Cat says, wrinkling her nose. “Do Kryptonians not have heart disease?”

“I promise I usually eat healthier,” Kara says, stretching the truth just a little. Her usual delivery was arguably more healthy than fast food. It’s Cat’s turn to fix her with an investigative journalist stare, and Kara cracks as easily as Cat had. “Okay, so I sometimes eat healthier. But you aren’t wrong; Kryptonian metabolism protects me from a lot of Earth health issues. And it’s a lot quicker than waiting for a full meal to support my metabolism to cook.”

“Oh, that won’t do,” Cat says, giving the receipt a dirty look. “Image, Kara. Image is everything. If you need large meals, then we’ll get you large meals. I’ll have my housekeeper prepare extra each night.”

“You want me to have dinner with you every night,” Kara asks slowly, pretending to focus on finishing her food. If she looks up right now, she’ll give herself away completely, and she’s not sure she’s ready to be that honest right now.

“Unless it’s a hardship?”

The note of vulnerability in Cat’s voice has Kara looking up despite just thinking she shouldn’t. But if Cat sounds like that, and is inviting her over every night, maybe Kara isn’t the only one trying to hide her feelings. Or maybe Kara’s just reading too much into it.

“No, not a hardship,” Kara says, once again fibbing just slightly. Because night after night of private meals with Cat sounds amazing. But having those nightly meals without giving away how much she’d rather not leave at the end might qualify as difficult. Especially with how well Cat knows her.

“Then it’s a date.”

Hope and trepidation in equal measure spread through Kara’s chest at those four words. She wants them to mean what she thinks Cat means, but she’s too afraid to ask. And too afraid to just jump into things without looking. She’s already planning enough upheaval in her life. Maybe this can be the one thing she takes slow. Figure out for sure where they stand before making the wrong move and ruining everything.

Whichever it is, Kara can’t wait for the first date.

[noteguk]

for science | jhs | m

— summary; in which Hoseok hears through the grapevine that you give one of the best blowjobs ever, and he needs to test it to be sure. 

— contents and warnings; blowjob (duh), dirty talk, praising and stupid pet names, cum eating, deepthroating (the oc has no gag reflex), Hoseok finds heaven, kind of crack? Idk don’t take this seriously, college!au, hoseok x reader (with a mention of past Jimin x reader), studying sessions being interrupted in the name of science 

— words; 5,1k

Requested by anon! 

Hoseok could be kind of clueless when it came to some science-related things (and his high school biology teacher could attest to that), but one thing he knew very well was the scientific method. All that hypothesis-testing-stuff, or whatever the hell that was (okay, maybe he didn’t know it that well) had taken him out of some trouble in the past. It helped him see some of his decisions in a more experimental light, avoiding the terrible Olympic-somersault-into-conclusions that had gotten so many of his friends into awkward situations. And it shouldn’t even be said that he took quite a bit of pride in that — it made him feel very intelligent and he would take any stroke to the ego that he could get. 

So, when Jimin got a bit too tipsy and started babbling on about how you gave him the best blowjob of his life, Hoseok was, at the very least, cautiously skeptical. 

“You’re such a drama queen.” Hoseok rolled his eyes before chugging down a bit more of his beer. He was nowhere near as intoxicated as Jimin was, and he wasn’t planning on changing that. It was a Wednesday night, for fuck’s sake. He had to leave some thrill to the end of the week. “It probably was like… alright. Good, even. But the best one ever? Please.” 

“It was so much more than alright, dude.” Jimin threw his head over the couch’s back, looking like he just got washed up on the shore. His hair was a mess of clear strands, exploding on his head like a failed science fair experiment. “It was the best suck of my liiiiife. I wish she didn’t hate me so I could have that again.” 

He scoffed. Hoseok had enough filter left in him to avoid telling Jimin that the reason why you hated him was entirely his fault — what did he expect from three weeks of ghosting? Besides, if the head was that good, he would surely stick around for just a bit longer than two months. “Sure. Like the time that you almost died riding a roller coaster.” 

“Hey. I almost did.” Jimin’s eyes opened, presenting his friend with a dazed-out, unfocused brand of frustration. He was getting tired of not being taken seriously — didn’t Hosoek know that alcohol makes you more honest? He wasn’t making things up. Not when they were as serious as the well-being of his dick, or actual death. “It was some Final Destination bullshit, I’m telling you. Pieces of metal flying and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, leaning closer to Jimin so he could take the almost-empty can of beer from his clumsy hands, and placed it on the center table. “I think you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight, man. You have a class at ten tomorrow.” 

“I’m serious, dude,” Jimin pressed on. It was past eleven and Hoseok only wanted to sleep, but the other boy was clearly clueless about the lack of mutual interest in that conversation. “Aren’t you two friends or something?”

“Kind of. It’s weird,” Hoseok answered. You two had lingered in a hazy friendship space for a long time now, and he didn’t know exactly how to explain your relationship. He didn’t really consider you two close by any means, but you weren’t strangers or casual friends either. To be honest, he hadn’t thought too much about it until that very moment. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?” 

Jimin sighed, fumbling against the sofa. Much to Hoseok’s delight, he was starting to get sleepy as well. “You could ask her to suck you off,” he mumbled, “then you can feel it for yourself.” 

He laughed at that, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind if you think that’s not gonna backfire.” 

He blinked heavily. “Hm? Why?” 

Hoseok blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “We aren’t that close, and we haven’t done anything remotely sexual before this. It would be super creepy.”

“That’s not true,” Jimin spoke lazily, as if the words were starting to get hard to find. There was a pause so long after his sentence that Hoseok thought his roommate had fallen asleep. “I know you guys made out like at the beginning of the semester. Taehyung told me so.”

He was going to murder Taehyung. “It wasn’t like that. We were both drunk and it was super awkward afterwards.” Hoseok got up from the couch, leaving Jimin to groan and spread out his legs over the cushions. “Listen, I’m glad you two had fun, and I’m sorry you ruined it. But I’m not gonna ask ____ to suck me off just so I can know if you’re being dramatic or not.” 

Jimin smirked wickedly — or at least tried to, because his lack of facial control wasn’t doing him any favors. “Whatever you say,” he teased, “but I think you’re curious.” 

Truth was: Hoseok was beyond curious. The cogs in his head had started to move, and his brain was evoking lewd images of you so fast that he could barely follow. He would be pretending if he said that he never saw you under that light before, but, after the mess that was your makeout session, he had forced himself to jump into the friendzone before he managed to make things worse. 

Hoseok liked you very much, even if you two weren’t particularly close. He enjoyed spending time with you, he found you funny, smart, and way out of his league. But he wasn’t delusional enough to believe that you would actually say yes to sucking him off, especially so out of the blue. 

“I’m not curious,” Hoseok lied through his teeth, and he wanted to change the subject so much that his head was starting to hurt. “You’re gonna sleep here?” 

“Hm… yes… the couch is very comfortable.” Jimin closed his eyes and adjusted his body on the furniture. His baggy shirt was already halfway through his stomach and his pants had ran up to his waist, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, moving towards the door. He needed to get Jimin some blankets, because the other was surely not getting up for the rest of the night. It was bad enough to babysit him for those few hours of intoxication, but infinitely worse to make him chicken soup if he got sick. Been there, done that. “I’m sure the couch is great.”

Jimin’s voice was soft and sleepy when he spoke up again. Hoseok was already in the corridor, and he almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I’m not talking about the couch.” 

Hoseok went to Jimin’s bedroom and grabbed his pillow and the blanket from his undone bed. Meanwhile, scenarios ran wild inside his head, having you as the main star. He didn’t know what was taking over him, but he wasn’t so quick to ignore Jimin’s story. Hoseok was faced with a fantastic scenario of a perfect blowjob, and the idea that it was so close to him was making his pulse quicken. Again: it would be absurd to ask you to do that, regardless of the motive behind it, and he knew that it would be awful for your already-strange friendship. 

No, he could never do that. He would not. 

But like… what if it worked, and you magically accepted his request? And what if, by some wonderful moment, some millennial alignment of planets, Jimin wasn’t actually being hyperbolic and you actually had the ability to give incredible blowjobs? Could he really let it pass without giving it a shot? 

He could see it as a scientific experiment, Hoseok thought, as a way to prove a hypothesis. It couldn’t hurt if he just— 

Oh my god, dude, shut the fuck up and forget about this. 

Coming back to his senses, Hoseok strutted out of his roommate's bedroom and walked toward the living room. By the time he came back with the blanket and the pillow, Jimin was already deep asleep.

~ 

Against his best efforts, that conversation remained stuck to the back of his mind for the next two weeks. Hoseok would find himself going back and forth on the idea of you having some strange, Marvel-worthy superpower when it came to sucking dick and, worst of all, the idea that his skepticism was making him miss out on it. Jimin was exaggerated when it came to, well, pretty much everything, but that didn’t mean that he would be wrong about that specific subject. That would be a logical fallacy, and that was also something that Hoseok knew very well. Bless his late nights on Reddit for that. 

Yet as the days moved along, and his curiosity was slowly turning into desire, he was forced to revisit the infamous night between the two of you, the one that Jimin had so mercilessly mentioned. Thinking back on it, it wasn’t surprising that your overconsumption of alcohol, added to the way that you two had grown close (both physically and mentally) had ended up with Hoseok laying on top of you, kissing the soul out of you and fondling your breasts in the middle of a party. It wasn’t the most dignified moment of either of your lives, but, well, it happened. 

One way or another, the night didn’t move forward. Even if Hoseok already had a tent in his pants, you two were far too intoxicated to consent, and were quick to fall asleep before the situation could escalate. Bottom line: Hoseok woke up with your tit in his hand, a nightmarish hangover, and the decision that the You-Subject would have to stay on hold for some time. 

And on hold it stayed. For an entire semester. And it would’ve remained that way if Jimin’s stupid mouth hadn’t started talking. 

So after two weeks of self-inflicted psychological torture, Hoseok slipped a hangout invitation amidst your texts. If you saw any second intentions behind his “haven’t seen you in awhile, wanna hangout? ;)” you didn’t let it show. The problem was that you weren’t really in the mood to go out, especially since you had a big exam coming up, so Hoseok ended up convincing you that he would stay quiet if you let him go over to your place. 

It was a bit harder not to notice the desperation in his proposal that time, but you ended up agreeing. Your thought process was that the boy would eventually realize that his hangout attempt was ridiculous and that he would leave you to study by yourself, and the two of you would reschedule that odd friendship session to when you weren’t drowning in textbooks. 

The problem was that you had been stupid enough to believe that your friend would actually keep his mouth shut. 

Hoseok was seated on the edge of your bed for so long that he was sure that his asscheeks were permanently imprinted on your sheets. Because he hated himself, he kept eyeing the digital clock to your right, and he was certain that he had spent the last fifty two minutes and thirty three seconds staring at the back of your head and trying to come up with a casual way to ask for a blowjob. 

He had tried a few times already, and each one constituted of him being unable to finish his sentence, instead looking at you like BooBoo The Fool until you turned back around to face your disorganized desk, sighing and trying to concentrate on your work. 

All things considered, he couldn’t actually believe he had escalated Jimin’s sailor tale to that point. He was out of his mind, that was a fact, and he had absolutely no clue how you would react once he (if he) found the words to ask you to sacrifice your mouth for science. 

God, he was an idiot. 

He cleared his throat and got ready to try one more time. “So… I…” 

You sighed heavily and turned around on the chair. “Hobi, this is the fifth time you’re starting a sentence and not finishing it,” you said, annoyed. “Can you tell me what the problem is? I have a test in two days and you promised you wouldn’t interrupt me if you came over.” 

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t like feeling like a kid being scolded, even if he kind of deserved that. Hoseok guessed it would be better to just take off the band-aid before he made an even bigger fool out of himself. “Let me just, like, explain the context of this. Otherwise it’s going to be even more strange.” 

Dropping your pen, you fully swirled the chair around, crossing your hands over your legs. He wasn’t expecting your complete attention anytime soon, and the seriousness in your stare made his courage falter for a second. It was such a stupid idea, you’d just end up hating him like you did Jimin. “As long as you make it quick,” you told him.  

Hoseok hesitated, running one hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, so… like, a few weeks ago I was talking to Jimin,” he started, watching your face for any signal of an expression — confusion, disgust, anything. But he found nothing. “We were drunk, and he started talking about the time that you two were together. Like, sexually.” 

You blinked, unfazed. “And?”

“And… he told me that you give, like, the best blowjobs in history,” the words left his mouth before he could fully digest them. This time, he got a reaction out of you — a light raise of your eyebrows. “And, no offense, but I didn’t believe him. You know how extra he is about some stuff. Most stuff.” 

There was a moment of silence as you waited for him to go on, but Hoseok was too busy swallowing his thoughts down and feeling like he would collapse at any given moment. You sighed. “So what? You wanted to tell me that you don’t believe in my blowjob abilities? That’s all? Can I go back to studying now?” 

“No, that’s…” Now, things were starting to get complicated. Just take off the band-aid, Hoseok, don’t chicken out now. “I wanted to know if you could show me. Like, if you could suck me off. So I could... confirm that hypothesis.”

Every part of his brain was suddently hyperaware of how fucking stupid he just sounded. He had expected that another thick silence would follow, but his heart almost leaped out of your chest when you started laughing at him — like, full-chest, eyes closing, head rolling back laughing. “Are you serious?” You asked, taking one hand to cover your mouth before, at last, bursting out again. He felt like his ego was being stabbed with a rusty nail. “I can’t believe you, Hoseok. Took you all this time just to ask me if I could suck you off? For science?”

His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he had to clear his throat before he found the force to answer you. “Yeah, I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he struggled to say, each word morphing into the next. His stomach had frozen up and the flight or fight response was starting to kick in. Had he really been that much of an idiot? When did his cock start dictating his words? “I… I know this is like, super creepy. I’m sorry. We can forget this ever happened and I’ll never talk to you again. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Suddenly sad, he waited as you settled back on the chair, wiping a small tear from the corner of your eye before you stared at him. There was still a smirk crawling up your lips, and he felt like the world was collapsing all around him  as the silence expanded around the two of you. He looked at the digital clock: it had taken him precisely three minutes to ruin everything. 

He sighed, shoulders falling. “Do you hate me? Why are you so quiet?” 

You bit down on your lip, your eyes narrowing as you took his form in. Hoseok was hot: point blank. He was also nice, and respectful enough to realize that he might have overstepped a few lines with his request — and, even if you couldn’t really understand it, you also weren’t bothered by it. And you certainly didn’t hate him. In a way, you were almost flattered. You would’ve been more if the comment had come from anyone else but your Danny Phantom ex. But that was a different story. 

The entire situation was just too funny to let it go. And, besides, you really wouldn’t mind sucking Hoseok off. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about that before. 

“I’m... considering it,” you told him, watching as his face lit up in a mixture of confusion and joy. He looked like a kid seeing Santa for the first time. “If you promise to shut up and let me study, I’ll do it. And if you agree to never talk about it again.” 

Hoseok blinked profusely, his mind short circuiting. “For real?” 

“Yeah.” You raised from your chair, walking closer to your bed. Hoseok swallowed hard and leaned back, placing his hands on the mattress for support. “But do me a favor: if it’s not that good, don’t tell me. It’ll hurt me.” 

“Yeah, alright.” He swallowed dry, every neuron in his brain trying to grasp what the fuck had just happened. His mind was the Spongebob office being set on fire, and he suddenly didn’t know how to deal with the anticipation booming in his chest. “I’m... not hard yet, though.” 

“It’s okay.” You kneeled in front of him, placing your hands on his inner thighs and slightly pushing them apart. Hoseok quickly got the cue, and opened a bit more so you could comfortably place yourself between them. “Just... relax,” your voice was almost a whisper then, and he felt his soul trying to leave him. That was insane. “Let me take care of you.”  

Your words managed to make him relax a bit, then he tensed all the way back at the feeling of your hands fumbling with his button. His breath hitched as you pulled the zipper down, fingers hooking on the edge of his pants before tugging them down his thighs. 

He felt exposed as his pants fell like a puddle around his ankles, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as you leaned in. Hosoek felt like he was dreaming when you started nibbling at his skin, kissing and licking his inner thighs as you slowly made your way closer to his aching member. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he barely got out before sighing, the tingles of your caresses on his skin shooting directly towards his cock, already semi-hard. 

You flicked your eyes up at him, humming against his thigh muscles. You were now so dangerously close to his underwear that he thought he would lose consciousness. “Were you daydreaming about it or something?” You teased. 

Maybe in a different position, he would’ve lied about it. But the truth came out before he could hold it back. “Ever since Jimin told me that, yeah,” he said. 

“Hmm… hope I live up to the expectation, then,” you purred, looking up at him with those doll-like eyes. Hoseok suddenly felt like he was losing his balance, his entire body burning in desire and expectancy. You looked like another one of his horny daydreams, but you were kneeling right there, in arms reach, and he didn’t know how he would deal with what was about to ensue. 

Your mouth was hovering above his clothed cock before he could notice and, delicately, you leaned down to place a kiss on it. The touch was tender, almost numb with the fabric standing between you two, and yet Hoseok shivered, biting down on his lip as one of your hands enveloped his erection. He watched, mesmerized, as you started lazily stroking him through his underwear, leaning your head to the side so you could place heavy kisses on him, at times giving his tip a few kitten licks until it was covered by a thin layer of your saliva. 

The sensation left him on edge, silently begging for more. By the time you moved back so you could undress him, Hoseok was a mess of shallow breaths and heavy swallows; his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as pleasure started to build up at the corners of his perception. Biting back a moan of relief, Hoseok raised his hips as you slowly pulled his underwear downward, allowing for his cock to spring free from its confinement. You had done a good job teasing him, because it was already fully hard when it bounced against his abdomen, red-tipped and leaking. 

His gaze oscillated between your face and his cock, watching for any reaction as you took one hand to his length, squeezing him firmly. “Fuck,” he let out a grunt, his overwhelmed body responding to the smallest of touches. 

You smirked at his reaction, taking a quick glimpse at his devastated features before moving back to what you were doing. Hoseok was so cute, you thought, liking the way he was so responsive. 

A shudder ran up Hoseok’s body when your tongue came out between your lips, placing delicate licks on his base. He loved the feeling of your warm muscle against his hardened member, his mind growing eager as you began tracing a path upwards, flattening your tongue against him. His breathing was ragged by the time that you reached his crown, a hum escaping your throat as you lazily swirled your tongue around his tip, covering him with your saliva. 

You took your time caressing his slit with your mouth, waiting until he was cursing and panting before you finally wrapped your lips around him. At first, you only took his tip in your mouth, sucking so slowly that Hoseok whined and buckled his hips from the bed, trying to make you move faster. 

Wordlessly, you simply placed your palm against his thigh and pressed him back down. Even if that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hoseok accepted your order and settled back against the mattress, grunting as you continued to tease him. 

“Please, put it all in,” he begged, starting to lose his trail of thought. “This is torture.” 

And maybe another day you would have taken a bit more time torturing him, but, that afternoon, you were kind of in a rush to finish studying. So you complied. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck.” His eyes shut and his head was thrown back as you fully sank down on his cock, your tongue flat against him. Before he could stop himself, his hand flew to your hair, yanking at the strands as you moved back up, your hand pumping the parts of him that you couldn’t reach. 

“God, your mouth feels so great…” He moaned, back arching as you reached his tip once again, licking it before sinking back down — you took him just a bit deeper that time, and the motion didn’t pass by unnoticed. He was really starting to believe Jimin, and he wondered if maybe he should’ve been more worried about the entire rollercoaster situation. “Ah, that’s it. Just like that.” 

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him cry out, desperate. Hoseok couldn’t hold himself back from moving closer to the edge of the bed, his other hand clenching your bedsheets between his fingers as you continued to swallow his cock like it belonged in the hot confinement of your mouth. 

“Oh— oh my god, baby,” he grunted, pulling at the strands of your hair. His mind was starting to get hazy, his chest fluttering in a mess of sighs and heavy breaths every time that you sank down on his member; every time you flicked your tongue against his sentitive slit or pumped his base. “That’s really good, you take my cock so well.”

You looked up just to see the mess that Hoseok had turned into. With his mouth parted and eyes glazed over, he looked like he was about to fall apart at any second. He was watching you in complete awe, his eyebrows falling to form a beautiful frown of concentration; tongue coming out to lick his lips. He was so fucked out that you felt yourself getting riled up by his image, a pool of wetness accumulating between your thighs. 

“You look so pretty like this.” He exhaled, unaware of his own words. Hoseok was too busy following your swollen, redden lips as they wrapped around his member, your cheeks hollowing after you sucked him with all that you had. Even the small amount of droll around your mouth was enough to make him throb in your hold, a grunt escaping him. “With these — fuck — those pretty lips around my cock, shit. I could watch you forever.” 

You hummed around his member again at his words, the vibrations shooting directly at his core, where a rising heat had dangerously grown stronger, signaling his upcoming orgasm. Hoseok loved the way you actually looked like you were enjoying yourself, moaning and whimpering around his cock as you took all of him in your mouth, eyes closing every time he throbbed inside you. The eagerness in which you took him in, like you were starving for his cock, was one of the filthiest images that Hoseok had ever seen, and it was one that he knew would haunt his dreams for the years to come. 

When you removed his cock from your mouth with a dirty wet sound, Hoseok was about to complain before he saw you licking down his length, one of your hands holding his cock away from your face as your tongue started to play with his balls. It was an odd feeling, but not an unwelcomed one, and it kept him on edge for a little while longer while you played with him. 

With a timid whimper, you looked up at him as you licked your way back up to his tip. The image was so hot that he almost fainted, a deep moan escaping his throat when you took him back inside your delicious mouth. 

And the truth was clearer than Hoseok had ever expected: Jimin was right. 

“Fuck, babe, how did you get this good?” Hoseok grunted, trying his best to focus on the picture-perfect image of your lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock. He could tell that his release was starting to build up at an alarming rate, his thighs growing weaker every time you took him inside you. “Oh my- Ngh! Fuck! Oh my god!” 

Hoseok’s mind was wiped clean when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat, his hips buckling up as your throat clenched around him. He was pretty sure he was in heaven then — if he focused, he could hear angels singing all around him — , his pleasure overtaking every cell of his body as you continued sucking the soul out of him. 

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he begged, his voice much higher than before. You didn’t need to be asked twice, because, within a second, he was crying out at the feeling of your throat wrapping around his cock one more time; his hands holding tightly to the roots of your hair. The only reason why Hoseok hadn’t started fucking your mouth yet was because he wanted to have you in control, giving him the best head of his life without any interruption. “Fuck, fuck— Baby, you’re so fucking good at this, fuck.”

There was a vague raising of his hips to meet your movements, making him hit the back of your throat again and again, the lewd sounds you were making filling the room. Nothing in his life had ever compared to that instant, he had ever felt a pleasure as great as he did at that point, and he knew it was about to snap. 

“God, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed, finally closing his eyes and letting the pleasure take over. “Fuck, you’re so good, I’m gonna—“ 

Hoseok filled your mouth with his cum, dripping down your throat when you swallowed around him. His head was spinning and his muscles were trembling, and that time he was unable to hold himself back from thrusting up against your mouth, trying to prolong that divine sensation for as long as he could before, at last, collapsing against the mattress with a final, shaky moan. 

He barely heard you when you got up to your feet, his mind floating above his body as he tried to get himself back together. With the little force that he still had inside him, Hoseok leaned on his elbows and stared at you like you were made of gold. “Fuck, ____.” He breathed out, and the only thing he could say was, “What the fuck?” 

You giggled at his reaction, thumb cleaning a bit of cum that had painted the corner of your mouth. “I appreciate your feedback,” you teased, pointing over your shoulder, to where your desk stood, forgotten. “Now that you have your answer, can I study in peace?” 

“Y-Yeah, sure,” he struggled to say. “I’ll... stay quiet.” 

You smiled brightly. “Thanks!” 

He thought about thanking you right back for giving him the best orgasm of his life, but he thought that would make everything much more pathetic. So he didn’t. 

Hoseok eventually found the motivation within him to put his cock back inside his underwear, clumsily pulling his pants back up. He found himself in the same position he was before everything went down: dumbfounded, staring at the back of your head as you worked on your textbook. The red numbers on the clock told him that just ten minutes had passed, and yet his life had completely changed. 

All that he wanted was to return the favor — it was the fair exchange, after all. Hoseok sat up at the edge of the bed and spoke up, filled by a newfound courage. “Wait. Don’t you want me to take ca—”

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok.” 

His mouth fell shut and his courage deflated just as quickly. Maybe another time.

[asthmark]

❝ comfortable ❞ l.mk

synopsis → “oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

word count → 3k

a/n → instead of admitting to the fact that this has been in my drafts since october what if i just said i was watching superm interviews and got inspired.. would anyone believe that??? anyway superm on the ellen show was a fever dream lol

your leg bounces nervously as your makeup artist touches up your look and you stare at the tv screen in anticipation. you were finally making your television debut. you knew you were blessed for the wonderful opportunity, especially for how new you were to the music industry.

you had started like nearly every other artist; posting covers on youtube. these were well received and gained a good amount of views and likes but your career really took off when you began creating original content. every time you would release a single, it would make it on the trending page thanks to your growing fanbase and exposure to the general public, who seemed to like you. soon enough, requests to interview you whether it be on radio, tv, or magazines were high and, thanks to your managers, you found yourself in los angeles, backstage in a studio, waiting for the ellen degeneres to introduce you to her live audience and thousands of viewers at home.

“don’t move so much, miss l/n,” the woman trying to apply your highlighter comments. “you’re smudging your makeup.”

you force yourself to sit still as you apologize. “sorry. pre-show jitters.”

the woman smiles, emphatically. “i understand, sweetheart. i would be nervous too.”

you’re quiet for a moment, debating if you should continue conversing with her. “can i be honest?”

she hums as she dabs a beauty blender into your cheek. “go ahead.”

“i am so nervous that i’ll mess up or say something stupid. the only thing close to an interview i’ve ever done was a q&a on my youtube channel. and at least i could edit stuff out then.” you huff. “if i make some kind of mistake on my tv debut, my career will be over before it even started.”

“well, think of it this way,” she says. “you went from a moderately popular youtube channel to the ellen show. that doesn’t happen for no reason. there are people out there who really admire you.”

you chuckle in disbelief. “it’s crazy to think about people actually wanting to see me. i still can't believe it.”

she giggles, softly. “they know there's something worth seeing.” at seeing your small smile, almost as if you were barely realizing your own star status, she laughs. “you seriously gotta wake up, girl. you’re famous!”

you smile at her, finding humor in her words. “thanks for the wake up call.”

you both direct your attention to the tv placed backstage that broadcasted what was happening on stage. you listen in to ellen’s monologue as she tells jokes and addresses current topics. before long, there’s a knock on the doorframe. you half expect a staff member to let you know that you’ll be on soon but instead you hear a quiet, “hello?”

you and your makeup artist both turn to the boy standing in the doorway. he's wearing a black jacket paired with dark, ripped jeans held up by a belt. he goes to bow, then remembers that korean etiquette does not apply and decides to wave as a greeting instead. you reciprocate the gesture. he stands with only one foot inside the room, almost as if he’s too polite to enter without being given the okay.

“did they send you to get your makeup done?” the woman who had done yours says.

he nods. “they said something about concealer and bb cream, i think?”

she smiles. “yeah, it’s basic stuff. come on in. what’s your name, dear?”

“oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

“well, mark lee, i’m lily. i’ll be doing your makeup, making sure you look pretty for the cameras.” she motions to you. “i'm just about done here so i’ll be right with you.”

“okay, thank you.” he shuffles in, his eyes glued to you and you hold his stare. he nods, a wordless greeting as he settles in next to you. in return, you throw up a peace sign and he smiles at your casual behavior.

“you know what? somebody used all the setting spray. i’ll be right back, i’m just going to steal some from my co-workers.” with that, lily darts out of the room.

it’s pure silence between the two of you until you spark conversation. “i didn't get to introduce myself but i'm y/n.”

“i know,” he responds, quickly. “i'm kind of a fan, actually. i mean, it’s practically impossible to not be. you’re all over the place. especially with the new single you dropped... which is a bop, by the way.”

you smile at his simply-worded praise. it was a nice switch up from the professional reviews you received from critics. “that’s so cute. i’m honored.” you miss the way mark’s ears turn slightly pink at your words. “but enough about me, what do you do, mark?”

“oh, me? i’m in the k-pop scene.”

you hum. “that’s a good genre to be in. which group?”

“right now i’m promoting with superm, it’s kind of like a side project. but originally, i’m in a band called nct.”

you lean forward at hearing the familiar name. “nct? as in, nct 127?”

mark’s eyes light up. “yeah! you know us?”

you nod, enthusiastically. “oh my god, yes! you collabed with ava, right?”

“we sure did. are you guys close?”

“i help her write lyrics sometimes.” you lower your voice down to a whisper for dramatic effect. “i wrote the chorus to ‘sweet but psycho’.”

the way mark’s jaw drops is almost comedic. “no way! that song got her famous, dude!” his lips curve into a playful smirk. “just because of that i’m gonna have to get you in the studio.”

you return the mischievous look. “is that a promise?”

“i’m back!” lily announces, giving mark no time to respond. she gives no warning as she spritzs you with the bottle she had gone to retrieve.

you cough, choking on the mist. “no heads up?”

“sorry, dear. you’re on in two minutes, no time to waste.”

you feel a chill go up your spine. it was finally time.

mark nudges your arm. “you okay?”

“a little nervous.” that proves to be the biggest understatement of all time because in reality your heart is doing somersaults.

“hey.” you stare at him, his brown eyes boring into you. “you’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about. you got this!”

you smile at his words of encouragement. he cared about you and you find that your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

“i'll be here to cheer you on while you’re out there and i’ll be back when you’re done to tell you how amazing you did, okay?”

you nod.

“now get out there!”

“well, we have a great show for y’all today,” ellen says, clasping her hands together, having just finished her monologue. “i mean, it’s always great but the exciting thing is we have two musical guests today.”

the audience that cheered wildly is shown on screen. you almost forget about the knot in your stomach when you see some people in the crowd wearing shirts with the cover art and quoted lyrics of your last single.

“i see you guys are ready so, without further ado... let’s get started. our first guest is a soloist who has made quite a big name for herself in such a short period of time. she currently has three singles on the billboard charts, her most recent music video is number one trending on youtube, and she has a new ep coming out soon. here for her television debut, please welcome y/n l/n.”

you walk out from behind the stage, a huge smile on your face. the crowd screams and you wave to them until your hands become too occupied hugging the hostess who greets you with open arms and a proud smile. once the hype dies down and your entrance music fades out, you take a seat, opposite of ellen.

“how have you been y/n?”

“amazing,” you respond, letting your hands fall neatly in your lap.

“and why is that?”

you sigh, wistfully. “everything has been going so well for me lately. i mean, i feel like all these doors are opening up for me all of a sudden. i think i finally made it.”

“you’re just barely realizing that?” ellen exclaims.

you laugh, along with the audience. “kind of, yeah. it just all happened so fast.”

“is there an experience that comes to mind where you finally realized how famous you are?”

you try to think for a few moments before your eyes light up. “okay so, i was at a mcdonald’s like, last month and i went through the drive thru and ordered some nuggets and fries. so, i pull up to the window to pay and it’s around 2 a.m. so the cashier guy is super out of it, like he’s not even paying attention to me. finally, he goes to grab my card and he gets a good look at me and just freezes. like, full on shuts down. so i ask him if he’s okay and he nods so i try to hand him my card again but he goes, ‘no, you’re famous, you don’t have to pay’. and in that moment i just knew.”

“hold on, pause,” ellen announces, dramatically. “you’re telling me that you have been nominated as artist of the year, gained over ten million followers on social media and made your national television debut but the thing that really made you say ‘wow, i’m famous’ was a couple of chicken nuggets?”

“ellen, c’mon,” you begin, seriously. “it was a twenty piece.”

“oh, well, that changes everything,” she says, playing along with you, as the audience erupts into laughter.

the rest of the interview goes smoothly, running on jokes and sarcastic energy. you discuss your young age (thus resulting in some of your baby pictures finally being revealed to the world), millennial culture (the crowd went wild when you explained terms such as netflix and chill to ellen who claimed she didn’t understand yet her sly smirk said otherwise) and your upcoming ep (that you would be giving a sneak peek of later on in the show).

you continue chatting once the commercial break is announced and ellen showers you with praises, commenting how young talent never failed to amaze her, although it did make her feel old. you get to thank the hostess and tell her how much you appreciated her sweet words and the opportunity she had given you before the crew is dragging you backstage so you can prep for your upcoming performance.

you’re greeted by a “that was awesome!” and a high five one you get backstage.

you flash mark a full smile. “couldn’t have done it without my hype man.”

just then lily walks in to touch up your makeup.

“and my hype woman!”

she just rolls her eyes and chuckles as she reapplies gloss to your lips. 

“seriously though, y/n. why did you have to be so perfect? the bar is all the way up here now.” to emphasize his point, mark raises his arm as high as it will go.

“hey, i only tried hard because you’re up next. you’re a hard act to beat, mark lee. i mean, you’re charismatic, charming, witty; basically every talk show host’s dream.”

he scoffs yet you see how he avoids your gaze, your compliments obviously flattering him to the extreme.

a staff member walks by, cutting your conversation short. “y/n, you’re back on in one. superm is on right after.”

you and mark turn back to each other, speaking the same two words at the same time.

“good luck.”

ellen introduces you again, only this time you hold a guitar and stand in front of a microphone once you’re back on the stage. you perform a never before heard song but judging by the roaring applause and standing ovation you receive by the end of it, it’s another successful hit.

you bask in the amazing response and then you’re ushered backstage for the last time. you catch sight of the staff placing more seats on the stage as you exit and you smile eagerly, knowing exactly what’s to come. you search the hallways for your new friend, hoping you can catch him before the show goes back on air. you’re almost about to give up when you hear your name being called.

you lock eyes with mark who stands a couple feet away, barely hidden from the audience’s view. even from where you stand you can tell he has a nervous smile on his face. you jog towards him and to your surprise, he envelops your figure without a second thought. in return, you tentatively wrap your arms around him.

“great job,” he murmurs, breath fanning your ear. “i really did cheer you on.”

“i’ll make sure to do the same.” you hesitantly pull away from his embrace, holding him at an arm’s length away. “go get ‘em.”

he gives you a determined nod and you watch him rush on stage, the audience’s wild cheering increasing. their energy didn’t fade once throughout the interview and just as you had suspected, mark was doing wonderfully. he clearly thrived in interviews; his awkward, boyish nature enchanting everyone in the studio, yourself included.

ellen crosses her legs and clears her throat. “so, i have to ask you something, you know, for the fans.”

the group leaned forward in anticipation, awaiting her next words.

“are any of you dating?”

the crowd released noises of amusement at hearing the very personal question. you can’t help but feel intrigued although you knew ellen has always been quite the invasive person. you watched as the seven boys looked around at each other, unsure what to say but before their silence can become suspiciously long, mark ends up taking the question.

“why are you always so curious about this, though?” he blurts.

the audience absolutely eats up his response, cheering at his bluntness. even you find it humorous, shoulders shaking with a chuckle. that’s definitely gonna become a meme, you think.

“it’s my job!” counters ellen. “why are you so defensive?”

the crowd is very responsive to ellen’s rebuttal, ‘ooh’ing in amusement.

mark’s silence only pushes the hostess to continue teasing him.

“does it maybe have anything to do with y/n?”

your smile drops. had she seen you two? you’re not sure why you feel so exposed; after all, you had just been talking.

ellen’s lips adorn a sly smile at mark’s stunned reaction. “you seemed to be getting very comfortable with each other backstage.”

the black haired male stumbles over his words before he gets a semi-coherent sentence out. “we just, um—we just met.”

“oh really? you two looked like you had known each other forever.”

mark chuckles breathlessly, eyes glued to his lap, obviously at a loss for words. ellen stares at him expectantly so he mutters, “i like making friends.”

ellen, the audience, and even some of the band members laugh at his response.

“well, i’m sure there’s a lot of fans out there that wish they were your ‘friend’.” her tone makes it clear she doesn’t buy his excuse but she prods him no further, instead turning to stare into the main camera. “when we get back superm will be performing their title track ‘jopping’. during the commercial break, please feel free to place your bets as to how long mark and y/n will remain ‘friends’.”

the camera pans to mark for a couple seconds; his ears are bright red and his cheeks are dusted light pink, his makeup doing nothing to help hide the blush. his eyes dart around, anxiously and then they cut to commercials.

you shake your head, smiling at the entire situation and just how big of a dork mark was.

you attentively watch superm’s two performances, eyes mostly glued to a certain rapper. you sit patiently in the makeup room, waiting for mark to return backstage so you can congratulate him but he never appears. you try to conceal your disappointment, even when lily enters the room, smiling brightly.

“well, the show’s over, doll.” she removes her makeup stained apron and glances at you as she places it on a nearby rack. “hey, why the long face?”

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, no longer bothering to hide your pout now that your frustration had been made known.

“you did great, if that’s what you’re worried about. just ask mark.”

“he left,” you mumble. “i thought i’d be able to catch him before he left and we could… i don’t know, talk a bit more? i just really—” you trail off.

“like him?” lily suggests, too loudly for your liking.

your head snaps towards her, eyes wide, only confirming your feelings.

“don’t worry, dear, you can say it. i won’t tell ellen,” she jokes.

you sigh and slump down in your seat. “yeah. i like him.”

“well, then, i have good news for you.”

you half-heartedly hum, allowing her to continue.

she waves a piece of crumpled paper in front of your face. you grab it from her, staring at it curiously.

“what’s this?”

she nods her head at it, encouraging you to find out for yourself. “open it and see.”  

you obey, unfolding the tiny item. your eyes struggle to read the words inside but if you squint, they become clearer.

please call, me i would love to become closer ‘friends’.

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

it’s mark btw :)

you can’t contain your smile at the cute little note.

“he’s adorable,” you say, mostly to yourself but lily audibly agrees.

“he ran into me as he was leaving and begged me to deliver that message to you. which reminds me, i’m supposed to let you know that he wishes he could have stuck around but his schedule is ‘crazy tight’ so he had to ‘dip’. his words not mine.”

you nod, grin widening. “thanks, lily.”

“my pleasure. nothing like young love.”

you give her a glare although it’s all but threatening.

she folds her arms, teasingly. “so, are you going to give him a call or what?”

you’re sure she sees the phone in your hand and the way your fingers press the numbers on the keypad, excitedly but nevertheless, you decide to answer.

“i’d be crazy not to.”

[iam93percentstardust]

Hey love! How about some winteriron h/c fluff? Millennial vet Bucky, Tony as his generous amazing self just without IM. T picks B as a test subject for his project on prosthetics he started after making a new [blank] for himself after Afghanistan. B expects the public Tony Stark persona and so he's a bit rude (cuz "fuck corporations and the superwealthy") but can't afford to say no, T picked him cuz he read B's profile and found him hilarious&refreshing. Snarks ensue. You know how it ends ;)

This ended up diverging a little from the prompt but I hope you’ll still like it :)

Also on ao3 here

~

“If there’s one thing I’ve proven,” Stark says on the screen, “it’s that you can count on me to pleasure myself.”

Bucky snorts and shakes his head in disgust. Maybe he shouldn’t be so disgusted by the guy seeing as he’s the one offering to build him a new arm but honestly, Bucky just thinks it’s a publicity stunt. He knows the type of guy that Tony Stark is. He was at the last SI weapons demonstration before Stark nearly got himself blown up and he remembers how drunk the guy had been. He remembers Stark leering at Steve before climbing into a jeep with members of their sister troop—good soldiers, men and women who hadn’t deserved to die defending someone like Stark.

So what if Stark had stopped making weapons?

So what if it had turned out that Stane was double dealing?

So what if it isn’t actually Stark’s fault that Bucky had his arms blown off a few months after Stark announced he wasn’t going to make weapons anymore and the DoD had turned to Hammer who apparently couldn’t even make a decent bomb that blew up while he was setting it?

People are dead because Stark couldn’t pull his goddamn head out of his ass, because he’s just like every other billionaire in the world, obsessed with his own wants and his own wishes and expects the world to bow to his every whim. And now, when he gets called in front of Congress to account for breaking his contract with the DoD, he makes a complete mockery out of the proceedings. Not that that’s all that hard and honestly, Bucky would have probably done the same thing if he’d been in Stark’s position.

Bucky wouldn’t have even accepted the offer of the prosthetic if it hadn’t been for Steve signing the paper for him. He would have told Stark exactly where he could stuff his publicity stunt of a philanthropic endeavor. Steve had been the one to fish SI’s letter out of the trash, sign the waivers and the forms, and mail it back to a Ms. Potts to tell her that he was apparently accepting SI’s oh-so-generous offer.

Eventually, he’ll get Steve back for that. Probably after he gets used to having another arm.

“Mr. Barnes?” someone asks, walking into the waiting area from one of the many branching hallways. “Tony’s ready for you now.”

He stands, tucking his phone back into his pocket, and joins her. She’s pretty enough and once upon a time, he probably would have even flirted with her but that was back when he had two working arms and self-confidence. Now he has one arm, a cheap prosthetic that makes his shoulder seize in pain sometimes, and he’s in therapy to get his head straight.

…Dr. Beck probably wouldn’t call it that though and he’d probably get upset that Bucky is, even if it’s in his own head. He’s big on that whole “use nice terms to describe your PTSD” thing.

…He’s in therapy to learn how to manage his PTSD.

There. That sounds nice, right?

“Tony’s sorry he couldn’t get to you sooner,” the woman tells him as they walk down the hall. Her heels click on the floor, sounding a nice rhythm that Bucky finds himself emulating unconsciously. “He had you lined up for the program ages ago but then everything with Obadiah and—”

“It’s fine,” Bucky mutters. He probably wouldn’t have wanted to meet Stark back then anyway. He doesn’t even want to meet him now.

The woman stops in front of room that looks like it should have glass walls but are currently covered in some sort of black…stuff, Bucky isn’t sure what. A keypad pops out of the wall right next to the door and she types something in that looks long and complicated. Bucky looks away so she’s not worried about him trying to guess the password even though he doubts he could have remembered it even if he’d been hovering right over her shoulder.

The door slides open and Bucky follows her inside—into a wonderland.

There’s a whole bunch of absolutely gorgeous vintage cars in one corner and what looks like actual robots fighting over a smoothie machine in another and blue holograms filling the air and Stark himself talking to…thin air?

Except not thin air because a moment later thin air says, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, sir.”

“Sass!” Stark exclaims. “I’ll donate you to MIT, see if I don’t. Let the undergrads pick you apart.”

“As you say at least once a day, sir.”

“What do I have to do to get some respect around here?” he mutters and before Bucky can stop himself, he snickers.

Stark wheels around, seemingly startled, and peers first at Bucky and then turns to the woman. “Pepper,” he laments. “Why do you let me make a fool of myself?”

“You do that just fine on your own,” she says, smiling fondly.

“Hmph. Sass from you, sass from my own AI—”

“That was an AI?” Bucky blurts out. The articles don’t say anything about something like that.

Stark looks at him again and then asks, “Which answer is less likely to make you think of Skynet? Never mind, not important. Your arm is what’s important and I put it—somewhere. I put it somewhere. What the fuck did I do with it? Pepper!”

“Have you checked the fabricator?”

“…No.” He wanders off towards the robots and some sort of fancy device behind them.

Pepper must see the shell-shocked expression on Bucky’s face as he tries to put together the image of the polished Tony Stark he’s seen on TV with the greasy mechanic wearing goggles on the top of his head in front of him because she says, “You’ll get used to him.”

“Uh-huh,” he agrees doubtfully.

“Do you have a preference on color?” Stark calls from the other end of the—what does he call it, a lab? A workshop?

“What?”

“Color!”

“You might as well join him,” Pepper says. “He really wants your input on this.”

“Why?”

He must sound as confused as he feels because Pepper smiles understandingly at him and says, “Because it’s your arm. I know Tony puts on this front for—everyone, really—but he’s not as bad as he makes himself seem. He blames himself for you losing your arm.”

“Why would he do that? It’s not his fault Hammer makes shitty bombs.”

“No, but it is his fault that the Army went to Hammer in the first place. He still thinks this is the right direction to take the company in but he still feels guilty for what happened to you.”

“Do you agree with him?”

“About the company?” She looks over at Stark, a wistful look in her eyes. “I’ve always thought that Tony could do something more. About you? It doesn’t really matter how I feel. It matters how both of you feel.” She pauses and then adds, “He really liked your application, you know.”

“Application? What application? I didn’t apply for this.”

“No we both know that,” she reassures him. “Your friend did. Said you were too stubborn to take a handout from a stuck-up billionaire to fill out the application yourself. It made Tony laugh.”

Huh. That says something about him, doesn’t it? That he can laugh about being called a stuck-up billionaire?

He glances over at Stark who’s now jumping up and down in the air, waving his arms to get him to go over there. “Barnes!” Stark calls. “I want your opinion on the color of your arm.”

“Wait, that’s what he wants to know?” Bucky asks, amazed. The world suddenly feels like it’s been flipped upside down. “He’s asking my opinion about that?”

“It matters to him,” Pepper says simply. She raises her voice to ask, “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That’ll be all, Miss Potts,” Stark calls back, grinning like it’s an old joke between the two of them. “Barnes!”

As Pepper leaves, Bucky picks his way across the room, carefully dodging holograms even after Stark says it’s okay to walk through them. “You know, you can call me Bucky,” he says as he joins him.

“Sure, I’ll do that just as soon as you call me Tony,” Stark says distractedly.

“Can do, Tony.”

Tony visibly freezes, shivers a moment, and then flashes him a quick smile. It’s there and gone but it’s still surprisingly lovely, something real and sweet that Bucky thinks he’s gonna have to ponder when he gets home tonight.

“So, color?”

“I don’t really have a preference.”

“Great!” Tony says enthused. “Because I had an idea last night for interlocking plates.”

“Like armor?”

“Yes, but sexier.”

And his enthusiasm must be infectious because Bucky thinks about that quicksilver smile he saw a minute ago and says, “Sure thing, Tony.”

[rebelcap]

No, no, no, yes.

Bucky x oc. (Luna Vega, woc, slightly enhanced)

Sweetheart, I’ve been checking on you since 2014.

Luna does and Bucky knows, she’s been there since the beginning. When the winter solider becomes Bucky again. Even before Steve and certainly after Steve.

They start to wonder if…

PART 2

One.

The TV was silent, illuminating the little living space that goes up to the little kitchen, the light of the door was on. Bucky was lying on the floor, absently watching the TV, the news, and all going to shit since everyone came back—and some left.

His eyes perk up to the door when he hears the elevator door opening up and steps walking towards his apartment. Bucky stood up and heard a voice speaking from outside.

“It’s me, open up.” Luna talked from the back half of the hallway, knowing that he had already heard her coming. He groaned, annoyed as he looked around from some of his clothes. “Bucky,” she spoke again as she reached the door.

“One second!” He shouted and grabbed a shirt and some sweatpants from the one-seat couch beside his bed.

“Are you with someone?” She asked and Bucky opened the door and found her staring with a shit-eating grin. “Are you flipping your wig with some broad?” Luna wiggled her eyebrows at him, hitting him with the forties slang.

Bucky took a deep breath and stared at her face for a moment and declared. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You need to get laid,” She exclaimed as Bucky moved to the side to let her in, he went back to the floor as she sat down on the couch.

“I tried, online dating is… overwhelming and weird.” He mumbled, looking at the muted television.

“Like Tinder?,” She asked, looking around for the remote, Bucky hummed. “You’re too old school for that.”

Bucky rubbed his face and observed the woman sitting on his couch, slouched and absently changing channels. “How did it go?” He asked referring to her latest mission.

“Could be better,” She said and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Explain.”

“Intel was shit, my package got shot—he’s fine though.” She said without taking the eyes from the TV. “I tried to link up with the other guys,” Luna said looking at Bucky, talking about the rest of the Avengers.

“Had any luck?"

"Well, the kid, hulk and Clint, and the ant dude are doing okay and I don’t know about the ones in space because SWORD revoked my level 9 privileges that I had on SHIELD. And Wakanda is all good.” She made a face of disgust. “I can’t find Wanda or Strange. Probably doing weird shit around, whatever.”

“Now you’re checking on me?"

"Sweetheart, I’ve been checking on you since 2014.” She joked but they knew that it was real. They have history, the first time they met was obviously when Bucky was the winter soldier. She was a black ops operative on SHIELD, worked along with Steve, Natasha, and the STRIKE team. On her last mission, she started suspecting SHIELD was compromised by Hydra because her target had expressed it.

“You’re another HYDRA puppet, thinking you’re doing the right thing. SHIELD is not more.”

Before she could even press the issue and ask questions, her orders came through. No prisoners and was forced to terminate him. They sent her home on obligatory leave because she had sustained severe injuries in that mission. After Nick Fury was shoot, they brought her back, Secretary Pierce gave the order to put her on a wash down super-soldier serum to heal her injuries, something that she had no idea and they did that without her consent… but it worked perfectly and increased about a 25% her strength, stamina, and abilities —a little above average than the regular men.

All the pieces fell into place as soon they gave her orders to capture Steve, Natasha, and Sam. That’s when she knew that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD, at first she was only going to play along with them to gather intel that she planned to feed to Steve to bring them down. But it all cemented it together when she met The Winter Soldier, realizing that it was Bucky.

So she stayed for Steve.

But when Bucky pulled her out of the Potomac, injured and lost, feeling that he could only trust her—she helped him to get back on his feet and leave the country with a promise to not tell Steve that she knew about him.

“I won’t tell anything but keep in touch, Bucky.” She told him. They were in her car after she arranged a safe passage on a fishing boat to Europe.

“I will, Luna, I will.” He promise.

And he didn’t break that promise, even though she knew that Steve would never forgive her about it, not until after the shit that went down with the accords.

“I miss him,” She said almost in a whisper. They never talked about Steve, it’s been six months since he chose to leave their asses. “I still can’t believe he left us stranded here.”

“You still mad at him?,” Bucky asked.

“Yes, he just… left, no goodbyes, no explanation. Just…” She shrugged. “I know he loved her, I know. But we went through so much—” Luna cut herself off. “And then leave me with your traumatized ass.” She joked, Bucky laughed.

“Ah screw you, I’m doing therapy. Mandatory but still,” He rolled his eyes and turned around to look at the TV again.

“And how is that going?"

"It’s going. I…” He took a pause. “I’m making amends."

"That’s good,” Luna said and noted the expression on his face and knew what he meant with amends. “Who you killed?” she deadpanned.

“I can’t do anything illegal, I can’t hurt anyone—But I’m taking back the power I gave them, maybe bruising them a bit.”

“Hell yeah, do you boo. Hunt those sons of bitches,” Camila Smile, hyping him up. Bucky actually smiles as they high-five each other. “I’m on your make amends list?"

"I don’t have amends to do with you.” He frowned.

“You pushed me off the helicarrier.” Camila pointed out, which was true.

“You were annoying me,” Bucky said, which was also true.

“You almost killed me.” She made a solid point and Bucky shrugged it off.

“Sam grabbed you mid-air.”

“Yeah, then he dropped my ass too,” Camila explained and pointed out. “Because someone plucked the wing off his suit.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at her, again. Shaking his head and Camila smile.

“I ain’t telling you sorry.” Bucky smiled, playing along.

“I’m talking with your therapist.”

“She’ll put you on therapy.” Bucky looked at her, smiling. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that.”

“It’s a character trait, Bucky.” She laughed. “Besides, you like me a little crazy.” Camila teased a little.

“You know I do.” He agreed, looking at her with a smile on his lips. They both fell into a comfortable silence until Bucky blurted, without even thinking of the ramifications of saying something like this to her.

“I have a date tomorrow, at ten."

"What did you say?” Camila explained, turning her body to Bucky to hear him more correctly. “Did you say date?” Her short Bob fell exactly to her shoulder and bounced around as she hopped on the couch, kinda excited—acting like a freaking chihuahua.

“Yeah, I’m already regretting telling you. You’re gonna jinx it—

"What?,” She shouted, interrupting. “Aren’t I the one who’s been trying to get you laid all this fucking time?"

Bucky rolled his eyes once again, acting like a grumpy old man—well he technically was and said nothing. That was okay because Camila was going to answer it herself.

"Me!, so no… I’m not gonna jinx it,” She threw the remote at his chest and Bucky glared at her.

“That fucking hurt.”

“Don’t be a pussy. Who is she?, I know her? Is she cute?"

"It’s the girl from Izzy,"

"You asked her out?” Bucky looked at her and made a face and proceeded to tell her how Yuri set him up. Camila made a face and then laughed. “Look at you, finally you’re out of your millennial old dry spell.

” It’s just a date.“ He quickly interrupted her.” I haven’t had one since 1943.“ Bucky panicked a little, shuffling on the floor.

"Nah,” She hummed and shook her head, quickly getting up from the seat. “Come on,” Camila said waving his hand in front of him. Bucky frowned as he looked at her, confused.

“What?"

"You’re taking me on a date, I won’t let you go unprepared. You’re my friend I won’t let you fail.” She extended her hand at him and Bucky didn’t bulge. “Buck, come on” Camila pouted a little bit, giving him a little flirt and Bucky’s face got red. “Please?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Opposites Attract 

Warren Worthington III x Female Reader

Request 1:  Brooooo i’ve got a boyfriend was amazing! like you don’t understand how much i loved it. if you ever have time can you do like a continuation piece of fluff with warren and the reader or like when they met and became a couple? like same mutant and stuff

Request 2:  Aww I loved the one shot with mother nature and Warren! I loved how her eyes turned pink, when she saw Warren! I'd like to know more about them. Could you give us a little fluffy glimpse into their relationship? Thank you, my dear! You're amazing! 💕

I also may make a little fluffy fic about these two later! (also i know I’ve used this gif before, oh well)

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of sex

Word Count: 7.9k

 Ever since she was little, (Y/N) had a green thumb. Her parents had her play outside, help them do yard work, and she had her own collection of house plants from a young age. 

It wasn’t until she started getting older that things started to change. Maybe be more than just a “green thumb.”

Leaves grew in her hair and vines wrapped around her legs. Her eyes started changing color based on her mood. She looked like a woodland creature. 

-

With high hopes and her bags packed, she went to Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. To find someone like her, or just find a place to fit in. 

Her eyes were green and she was ready to meet new people. 

-

(Y/N) fit in great. Her roommate could control the weather, which made their room a true plant haven, and she had a whole group of friends— and if you asked, no one could find anything bad to say about her. 

“She’s so sweet! She gave me some daisies when I was having a bad day.” 

“(Y/N) helped me study for my math test. I got a 92 because of her.”

“(Y/N) threw a surprise party for my birthday. It was wonderful!” 

Everyone liked her, and she liked everyone. Her eyes were almost always green and yellow— meaning she was happy and excited. 

But one day they weren’t green and yellow. 

-

“Alright, everyone. Your partner for the project is listed on the board. You can get to work.” (Y/N) looked over the list eagerly, excited for the inevitable mountain of work she’d be splitting with someone— it would be a good bonding experience. 

Her eyes scanned the list until she spotted her name. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) & Warren Worthington. 

(Y/N) glanced at him. Warren was pulling books out of his bag, earbuds in. 

I don’t… I don’t know Warren that well. This will be a great opportunity for me. We have lots of mutual friends, so this should be easy. 

“Hi.” 

Warren paused his music and pulled out an earbud, “Hey.” 

“We’re partners.”

“Right, right. Sit down.” She pulled up a chair and set her notebook on the desk. “So I was thinking since we have to talk about a political issue, we could do something that has lots of information available. Women’s rights, climate change, issues with the 1%, the problem with the rising trend of plant-based diets, mutant rights…” Warren didn’t say anything. He just listened. “We don’t have to do anything I listed, they’re just suggestions.” 

“Okay… We could do something on mutant rights. That’s probably the easiest since we’re mutants.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, that works with me.” She wrote down their paper topic and the due date in her notebook. “I’m not sure if we’ll get enough time in class to work this week so I’ll give you my number.” Warren got on his phone and opened a new contact.

He held it out to you, “Here, just put it in.” 

You took it from his hands and typed in your name and number. You handed the phone back to him and moments later you got a text from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: This is Warren. 

(Y/N): Hi! This is (Y/N)

He didn’t text back. “Okay, so I’m gonna make a google doc and share it with you.” Warren nodded. 

(Y/N) had a small, lopsided smile on her face. “You don’t talk much do you?”

“I talk.” 

“Yeah, but— I meant… Never mind.”

Warren raised his eyebrows. He knew exactly what she meant. But people weren’t supposed to like him. Warren was evil and scary. Sure, not as much as he used to be, but the school’s Disney princess didn’t need an interest in him. Jubilee and Jean would just yell at him for it, plus a good 30% of the school shipped her with Kurt, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that. 

As the bell rang, dismissing everyone from their class, Warren noticed (Y/N)’s eyes were slightly different as she left his desk. They had a slight bit of pink to them. 

What does pink mean? 

-

“I think he hates me.” (Y/N) announced as she face-planted onto Jubilee’s bed, letting vines grow and cover her like a blanket. 

“Who?” Jubilee asked. 

“Warren! We’re partners for the history paper thing and he, I dunno— he didn’t seem to want to be my partner.” 

Jubilee looked at her sulking friend, “That’s it?”

“I don’t get it! We’re in the same friend group, we probably have similar interests, and I’ve never been rude to him.” 

“He’s probably just tired. School is stressful, and I’m sure he just doesn’t want more work on top of everything he already has to do. I’m sure you have nothing to do with it.”

(Y/N) groaned into the pillow, “I can’t get a bad grade, and if he doesn’t like me then that makes things awkward in our friend group.”

Jubilee laid next to her, face up. “It’s Warren… he’s… he’s got some trauma and other issues. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually… Not everyone’s going to break down their walls after one conversation.” 

(Y/N) groaned against and wrapped her makeshift leave blanket tight around her body. 

“I’m going to get some food… Please take your vines with you when you leave.”

“Yes, mom.” (Y/N) mumbled.

-

“What’s her motive?” Warren asked Peter. Peter shrugged. “There’s no way she’d be nice to me just to be nice.” 

“I dunno, man. She’s nice to everyone, and I’ve never heard one bad thing about her. She yelled at me and her eyes turned red once, but that’s about it.” He took a bite of his sandwich, “Why do you even care anyway?” 

Kurt and Scott sat down with them, interrupting their conversation. 

“Shh! Not now…” Peter waved them off to make them silent. “Answer my question, Worthington.”

“Cause I’m not a good person. (Y/N) shouldn’t want to try and be my friend. Too many people would get upset about it. Do you know how many people want her to date, Kurt? Tiffany Jones DMed me on Instagram telling me to not ruin that. Tiffany Jones! We’ve never even spoken to each other! I didn’t even know she followed me.” 

Peter held back an eye roll. Warren was a good person, despite his past. Would he ever realize this? Probably not. 

“Okay well, (Y/N) is just kind to everyone. It fits her whole “Mother Nature” vibe she’s got going on. Just don’t be a dick to her and you’ll be fine.”

“She wants to date me?” Kurt asked and his cheeks were slightly violet and flushed. 

“No, Kurt,” Warren interjected. “People want you two to date. It’s like Stranger Things— some people wanted Nancy to date, Johnathan, others wanted her to date, Steve. They shipped her with someone. People do it with you and (Y/N), and it’s kinda weird but to each their own, I guess.” 

“Oh... But why me? Why not you or someone else?”

“Because you’re both liked by everyone, and you’re nice to everyone. I’m like... Rodrick from Diary of a Wimpy kid; (Y/N) is a Disney princess. We wouldn’t mix.” 

Peter and Scott tried holding back snickers, as Warren was kinda right. He was a punk emo with daddy issues, and he wasn’t half bad with a drum set.

“Don’t opposites attract?” 

Warren waved him off, “That’s a myth.” 

Kurt shrugged, “Andy and April from Parks and Rec worked out.” 

“They’re fictional, and (Y/N) could date almost any guy here. Why would she want to date me?” 

Silence. “She doesn’t. End of story. She’s just overly nice and I thought for a moment maybe someone was forcing her to be or she like, wanted to sleep with me or something.” Warren shrugged, “I dunno.” 

“You sound like the plot of a Tame Impala song.” Warren threw a grape at Scott’s head, missing him by an inch or so. “Hey! Just because I’m calling you out for obsessing over a girl doesn’t mean you can get mad at me. I could have gotten hurt!” 

“Dude, it’s a grape. Plus you have glasses on. You would have been fine,” Peter said. 

“It’s the matter of the thing.” Peter rolled his eyes at his roommate’s dramatics.

“You know I wouldn’t purposely hurt you.” Warren reminded him. 

“Still… You can’t get mad because a cute girl is being nice to you.” 

“I’m not mad, I’m confused. There’s a difference.” 

Scott nodded mocking him by agreeing, “Uh-huh… And in about a week you’ll be gushing over how amazing she is and how you’d do anything for her, and how you could just watch her do nothing all day.” 

“That’s you. You described yourself.” 

Scott raised his eyebrows as he played with the fry in his hand. “And? I know I’m whipped, I don’t care— You on the other hand…” Warren glared at him. Scott smirked and popped the fry into his mouth. 

“What color were her eyes when you talked to her?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know, uh, green? Aren’t they almost always green?”

Scott nodded, and Peter continued talking. “Yeah, but I was just curious. If she really didn’t want to be nice to you just because then maybe her eyes would have been like brown or something— I dunno. There’s a million different options.”

As Peter was going on and on about (Y/N)’s eyes changing color, Warren’s mind started to drift off to their interaction in class. 

Her eyes were green, but they weren’t pure green… 

“You don’t talk much do you?”

Warren’s eyes met hers, “I talk.” 

“Yeah, but— I meant… Never mind.”

Her eyes were pink. Only for a little while, and Warren almost thought he imagined it— but he didn’t. There was no way. 

But what did pink mean?

“What does it mean if her eyes turn pink? Like a millennial pink sort of.” 

Peter furrowed his brows as he thought for a moment, “You know… I don’t know… I don’t think her eyes have ever turned pink before.”

“Oh.” Warren frowned a little. He was expecting Peter to know, or at least have a vague idea.

-

Warren was showering when his phone dinged. He only had sound on when he wasn’t 100% available, in case of an emergency. 

He held his arm out to grab his phone and keep it from getting wet.

(Y/N): Hey, Warren! 

He sighed, it was just (Y/N). Nothing major. 

Warren: What’s up?

(Y/N): Want to work on the paper together? Ororo ran to the store with Raven so my room is available.

Warren debated for a few seconds whether or not he should go. He didn't have anything else to do, and it wasn’t that late. 

Warren: Sure. I’ll be down in about 20 mins.

(Y/N): *thumbs up emoji*

Warren smiled to himself before finishing his shower.

-

(Y/N) tried to make the room look presentable as possible, which was hard to do with all the plants everywhere— on her side and Ororo’s. 

There was a knock on the door. (Y/N) glanced in the mirror, making sure she didn’t look too frazzled. Then she opened the door to let Warren in.

His hair was damp and he smelt like a vanilla candle, he wore sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. One large enough to hide his wings in, so there were no holes cut in the back. 

“Hi! I hope wasn’t interrupting you or anything…” 

He shut the door behind him, “No, I was just in the shower.” He glanced around the room. Warren had been in it before, most of the time to hang out with Ororo, but he never really paid attention to (Y/N)’s half. Her side of the room was covered in fairy lights and plants. A lot of plants. 

“Sit wherever you want. Just kinda ignore all the plants—“ Some of the vines hanging around her bed moved as she sat down. 

“Okay.” He sat down in the desk chair. 

“So… I got a couple of news articles dealing with mutant rights— one about the adoption laws varying from state to state… another about some of the protests in Chicago due to the girl with gills getting fired from her job…” 

-

Surprisingly, Warren and (Y/N) finished their paper sooner than they thought they would. “I’m gonna send it to Jubilee so she can give criticism since she’s in honors.” 

“Sounds good.” (Y/N) nodded, typing away on her laptop.

Then Warren’s stomach growled. He blushed. 

“Sorry— I didn’t eat after training…”

“You skipped dinner?” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t that hungry and I took a shower. I didn’t really eat lunch either… I’ve been kinda preoccupied—“ 

“What the hell?! You have to eat! Your body needs nutrition! You of all people should know that— you’re like, 90% muscle.” 

“It’s just one time.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on— we finished our paper. You’re getting something to eat.” 

-

(Y/N) held Warren’s hand as she dragged him into the kitchen. They received a few weird stares, but it didn’t concern her. 

How could Warren be so careless?

“Sit.” She pointed to a bar stool.  “I’ll make something.” Warren nodded and sat down. 

“Do you have any food allergies?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

“Great, I’ll make something basic.” (Y/N) looked through the fridge before settling on the cheese. 

Grilled cheese is easy enough. Plus I can make myself one. 

She turned on a stovetop and put the buttered bread on the pan. 

She grabbed two plates from a cabinet using the vines from her arms— they extended to reach and wrap around the plates and set them on the table. Warren watched in awe. It looked effortless— kind of like when telepaths move things with their mind, they make it seem like anyone could do it.

“Does it take effort? Manipulating plants?” 

(Y/N) shook her head as she set Warren’s sandwich on a plate, and got her’s onto the pan. “Not the vines on my body. Other plants, though, it depends. If I’m just moving a vine or tree branch out of my way, that’s easy, but to have a sapling grow into a fully formed oak tree? That takes a bit more energy. Sometimes in my sleep I accidentally cause plants to grow— I’ll wake up next to an apple tree, or even a pumpkin or watermelon.”

“Really?” He was surprised. 

“Yeah. Also, the weather can affect me too. If it’s sunny out and the plants are thriving, I’m usually more awake and can do more without feeling weak, but if it’s cold and cloudy or even snowing, it takes a bit more effort.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes were a vibrant green and yellow, you could tell she was excited to tell someone about her mutation. She looked genuinely happy to talk about it. 

“That’s really cool. I didn’t know you could do all that.” 

He swore her eyes flashed a bit of pink again, but it could have been the lighting. 

“No one really asks… and besides, you can’t really use plants in the danger room.”

“I bet you could…” Warren offered.  “If you found a way.” 

She glanced down at her sandwich, “Maybe…” 

“Can I ask you something else?”

She looked up and nodded. Her eyes definitely had some pink now. Warren didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to ask. 

“What’s up with you and Kurt?” 

“Oh— Oh, um, I mean it’s nothing.” Her eyes were purple as she spoke, “People started some rumors after I helped Xavier as his TA for Kurt’s English class, and no one wanted to read for Juliet so I read for her and people decided to ship us. We’re not actually dating.” 

“That was a while back… people still haven’t let that go?” 

She shook her head, “Plus, people think ‘Oh, Kurt’s so innocent, and (Y/N) is too. They’d make a great couple.’ Which is dumb because guys and girls can be similar and just be friends.”

“Yeah, but a lot of people want you guys together. I had a girl DM me on Instagram to not get in the way of it.” 

(Y/N)‘s eyes widened in surprise, “What? Why?” 

“I dunno. I guess she thought I’d pull off some like, fuckboy moves or something.” 

“But you’re not a fuckboy! You haven’t even dated anyone since you came to school here— and I know that’s by choice. There’s at least twenty girls here who’d love to have your tongue down their throat.” 

Warren blinked at her bluntness. He was not expecting that. “I mean… you’re not wrong…” He had a faint idea of who some of the girls were, but he figured ignorance was bliss. If he knew for sure who they were, Warren wasn’t sure he could look them in the eyes. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, there’s a good number of guys interested in you… why aren’t you dating one of them?”

“I don’t want to. I mean sure, there’s tons of cute guys, but I just don’t think it would work out. Plus, too many people would kill them if they weren’t Kurt,” (Y/N) joked. 

Warren smiled, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He got up, carrying his plate to the sink. 

“I’ve also never had a boyfriend before.” 

He looked at her, curious. “That can’t be true. You’ve never had a boyfriend before?” 

“Nope. I’ve kissed people before and stuff… but, I dunno…”

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing… Guys can be dumb as shit sometimes.” 

(Y/N) laughed, “Trust me, I know.” 

Warren rose an eyebrow while setting (Y/N)’s plate into the sink. 

“Scott, a  prime example of a dumb boy in a relationship.” 

Warren snickered, “Super smart but dumb as shit check!” 

(Y/N) shook her head, pretending to be disappointed but she had a smile on her face, “God we’re so mean.” 

“A little, but it’s Scott… a little harmless teasing won’t hurt.”

“I guess so.” 

Warren washed his hands and dried them with a towel. “Wanna go back up to my room? Or do something else?... It’s only 7:00.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

-

Peter and Kurt were in Warren’s room, which he shared with Kurt, when he entered with (Y/N). 

“And where have you two been?” Peter asked, pretending to act like a stern and concerned parent. 

“We finished our paper and I made grilled cheese.” 

“Grilled cheese, huh? No… ulterior motives?” Peter dragged out, just to tease Warren about his disconcerts from before. Warren flipped him off while (Y/N) wasn’t looking. 

“What have you guys been up to?” (Y/N) asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

“Not much. Jubilee asked us to help her organize the third grader’s field trip to the zoo for extra credit from McCoy.” 

“Oh my gosh— I said I’d help her with that—“ (Y/N) looked at her phone and mumbled a curse. “I ignored her message…”

“Just tell her you were busy, I’m sure she won’t mind.” Warren shrugged.

“But I feel bad for ignoring her, plus the extra credit—“ 

“That you don’t need. Don’t feel bad, Jubilee forgets to respond to stuff all the time.” Warren walked over to his closet. “Are you gonna be okay if I take my shirt off?” 

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock and confusion, “Why— What— What, why are you stripping?” 

She was sure her eyes were fully purple, I mean, come on! What kind of random question is ‘Are you okay with me taking my shirt off?’ Plus they were in Warren’s bedroom!

“I just don’t want to keep my wings restrained if I don’t have to… I usually don’t in my room, I’m shirtless most of the time.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed magenta for a moment as the thought of a shirtless Warren flashed through her brain for a second. She cleared her throat.

“Yeah, go ahead. I don’t mind.” He nodded and removed his hoodie off, tossing it on his desk chair.

“Well, Kurt…” Peter awkwardly spoke up.  “I think Jubilee wanted our help with the field trip… And with some other stuff…” 

“Vhat?” 

“Remember?” He asked, motioning to (Y/N) and Warren with his eyes. 

“Oh! Oh Yeah! Ve… Ve gotta go.” Kurt waved. 

“Have fun, you guys!” Peter grabbed Kurt’s hand and they disappeared with a puff of smoke. 

“Do they think— because we’re not— I don’t— You don’t—“

“Relax, (Y/N).” Warren chuckled. “That’s just Peter being Peter.” 

“I suppose so…” She grew a flower in the palm of her hand and picked at the petals. 

Warren plopped down next to her, “What do you want to do?” 

She shrugged, “I’m not sure… We could… We could play never have I ever.”

Warren scoffed, “Never have I ever, with only two people?” 

“It’s fun. More... intimate. Ororo and I used to do it a lot when she had trouble sleeping her first few nights here.” 

“Are you trying to sleep with me?” He teased.

“What? No! No, no… Why are you laughing?”

“I was just joking. And you’re reaction was funny. Like we’d ever sleep together.”

She glanced at him, in a bit of disbelief of what he said. “Hmm?” 

“I don’t think— Never mind.”

(Y/N) nodded awkwardly, trying to make herself not feel awkward. She didn’t want to make the situation weird, “I’ll start the game. Never have I ever ditched class.” 

“I have.”

“I know, Jubilee tells me when you two skip to go thrift shopping or to the music store downtown.” 

“You should join us sometime— Never have I ever cheated on a test.” 

“I did once. One time! In third grade, I wasn’t sure how to spell vacuum so I looked at the girl next to me and copied what she put.” 

Warren faked a gasp, “You trouble maker!” 

“It was third grade!” (Y/N) tried to be defensive, but couldn’t hide the smile adorning her face as Warren teased. “My turn. Never have I ever… never have I ever… had a crush on a friend’s significant other.” 

Warren hesitated with his answer. He didn’t really want to tell (Y/N). He didn’t have a crush anymore, and the girl knew— but her boyfriend didn’t. If he found out, Warren was dead meat.

“Who was it?”

“What?”

“The girl you had a crush on…”

“I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“You were slow at answering. If you didn’t like anyone you wouldn’t need time to answer.” 

Warren shot a dirty look at (Y/N). “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just curious—“

“Can we just forget it? She knows, and I don’t like her anymore.” 

“Yeah, yeah… It’s uh, it’s your turn.” 

Warren didn’t say anything.

“You can ask me whatever you want. No matter how personal it seems.” 

“Alright… Are you a virgin?”

I did say he could ask me anything… Plus I did ask him a really personal question… “Yeah.” 

“Oh…” Duh! She’s never had a boyfriend before. What kind of question was that, dumbass?

“I’ve never been in a relationship or had sex— I’m not a prude though, I’ve kissed people before. At like, spin the bottle at a party or something.” 

“I respect that… Relationships are messy and honestly sometimes don’t seem worth it.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded, fiddling with another flower she grew. “Kissing isn’t that great anyway.”

Warren involuntarily licked his lips, “What do you mean?” 

“It’s either too short and awkward and you bump noses, or like, there’s too much force and pressure to it and the other person collides their teeth with your lips.” 

“Jesus! Who are you kissing?”

(Y/N) chuckles darkly and shakes her head, “You don’t want to know.” 

Warren smiled, “Yikes.” 

They both laughed together. 

When the laughter died down, Warren asked the dumbest question possible. 

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was quiet, soft— different from how it was moments before.

“What?”

“I’ve been told I’m a good kisser…” He awkwardly explained. “I could show you… Change your mind?”

“Change my mind?”

“It could stay between us… It doesn’t even need to have any meaning behind it.” Warren scooted himself so he was sitting face to face from (Y/N). He looked up at her eyes trying to figure out what she was thinking. Her eyes flashed from yellow to pink, then purple. He wasn’t sure what the colors all meant. He made a mental note to learn what they all stood for. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She nodded, “Change my mind.” 

Warren cupped her face in his hand. “Are you really sure about this?”

“Yeah…”

“Alright.” Warren tilted his head to the left a little, to prevent his nose from bumping into (Y/N)’s. He pressed his lips gently against hers. Warren used his other hand to cup the rest of her face. Their lips moved together in perfect motion. A warm feeling formed in Warren’s stomach, and he carefully removed his lips from (Y/N)’s.

It was rather brief, but enough to show (Y/N) what she’d been missing. 

“Wow…” Her eyes were pinker than before. Warren’s face was flushed, but he ignored it. 

“Wow?”

“Yeah, um… wow. That was… That was nice.” 

“Mhmm…” Warren wasn’t sure what to say. Yeah, he was a good kisser, but the kiss didn’t mean anything. It was just showing (Y/N) that not everyone sucks at kissing. The pink in her eyes just meant she was flustered and nothing else.  She wasn’t going to crush on Warren, and he wasn’t going to crush on her. 

-

(Y/N) left after that. She didn’t know what to do. She’d heard rumors about Warren— saying he was a player, a heartthrob, didn’t care about anyone but himself— (Y/N) couldn’t find that to be true. Sure, if she caught feelings she would get hurt because Warren didn’t like her back… but he wasn’t an asshole. 

She sighed, slipping into pajamas. It was easy for everyone else, (Y/N) had no complications with anyone else, everyone liked her and she liked them. She’d only gotten mad at someone once and it was Peter… but Warren… Warren was different. 

Something drew (Y/N) in, and she couldn’t figure out what. Perhaps, despite their differences, they could be good friends. 

As she got under her covers, she sprouted some poppies to help her sleep. 

-

The paper was a huge success! Warren and (Y/N) got a 98% on it. 

“We should celebrate!” 

“What for? You did most of the work.” 

“That’s not true, and besides, I’ve had a tiresome week and I want to relax.” 

Warren shrugged, “Sure. What’d you have in mind?” 

-

“Why are we in the attic?” 

“I thought we could watch a movie or something. Ororo and I have been using it as a greenhouse of sorts, but we haven’t grown enough plants yet.” 

“Yet?!” Warren gaped. The attic was like 80% plant, 20% building, and here (Y/N) was, saying there’s no such thing as too many plants.

She smiled, setting down her laptop and some blankets, “Duh!” (Y/N) messed with her laptop for a few minutes before pulling up Netflix. 

“You can pick something out.” 

“Anything?” (Y/N) nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” She was off to the side, messing with a plant. “If you don’t see anything you like, I have Hulu too.”

“Netflix is fine.” 

(Y/N) came back and sat next to Warren. “Find something good?”

“Uh, yeah— yeah.” She peered over his shoulder to see.

“Ooo! The Addam’s family! I love that movie.”

“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid. I barely remember the plot.” 

“Oh, it’s so good! You’re gonna love it.” 

(Y/N) pressed play and got comfortable under the covers. Warren did the same. 

-

The movie was good. Warren really enjoyed it. 

“What’d you think?” (Y/N) was excited in asking him. 

“It was good! Like, really good.”

“Yeah! I really liked Gomez and Morticia and their relationship, even if it is unrealistic… Also for the 90s, the effects for Thing were really good!” Warren nodded, slightly frowning when she talked about Gomez and Morticia’s relationship. 

Is that really what she thinks? Is that why she’s single? 

Why— Why do I even care?! It’s not like I like her or anything.

“Yeah, yeah… We should uh, get going—“ He glanced at the laptop, “—before people ask where we are.” 

“Right! Right… I can get it, no biggie.”

“Sure you don’t want any help?” (Y/N) shook her head. Warren couldn’t help but notice she had a shift in demeanor. Her eyes were fully purple, with pink slowly fading around the pupil. He kept quiet and followed (Y/N) out of the attic.

“Are you going to the mall Friday?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Scott wanted the group to do something fun for once— plus it was one of the few options Xavier approved of. “Are you?”

“Uh-huh. Peter suggested we go see a movie or something.”

“Yeah, that could be fun. Scott will wanna hit up the arcade but that’s typical.”

They stopped at her door— (Y/N) obviously struggled to open it due to the unwieldy stuff in her arms. “Here— I got it,” Warren opened the door and let her go forward. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem. I’ll see you later.” 

“You’re leaving?” Warren felt his chest ache, but he dismissed it as nothing. He ate at Five Guys with Jubilee and Kurt the other day. 

“Yeah, I have some homework… Sorry…” 

“You’re okay. I’ll… see you later.” 

Warren smiled and said, “Bye,” before shutting the door behind him. When he was gone, (Y/N) sat down and leaned against the door and sighed. 

She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t know what to do or what to say— she wanted to kiss him again. 

No— You can’t kiss him. Warren doesn’t like you. 

She pushed the dirty thought aside and flopped onto her bed, covering herself in ivy to lay and let the sun come through the window.

-

Warren was in Hank’s lab, just for a medical update. Alex was there as well, as he’s never too far away from Hank. 

“Any trouble with your wings?”

“Not really. The feathers grow back metal and they’re heavy. They’re easier to clean than my old ones, but I sometimes miss a spot.”

Hank nodded, skimming some papers. “Do you want someone to help you clean your wings?”

“No! No way,” Warren rose his voice defensively. “I’m not comfortable.” 

“Maybe if you had a boyfriend or girlfriend to help out,” Alex offered. 

Warren rolled his eyes, “Well, I don’t have one and there’s no one here I want to date anyway.” 

Alex smiled to himself, “You mean there’s no one here who you think likes you, so you pretend to not be interested.” 

“Since when did you become my psychiatrist?” Warren squinted.

“Since your movie date.” 

Hank glanced at Alex for a moment before going back to his paperwork, “What movie date?”

“The one he and (Y/N) had yesterday—“

“It wasn’t a date. She just wanted to hang out some more since we finished our paper for English.”

“Mhmm…” Alex didn’t believe it. 

“I’m serious! We are literally in the same friend group, we’re going to hang out together.”

“What Peter’s been telling me is different.”

 Warren almost scoffed in disbelief, “You’re really going to trust Peter over me on this?”

“No, but Peter told me you asked what it means when her eyes turn pink.” 

Hank stopped his work and was fully listening to the blondes argue— “(Y/N)’s eyes have never been pink before, well, not many shades of pink. What was it?” 

“Um… It was only for a moment,” Warren mumbled.  “It could have been the lighting or whatever…”

“No, no, this is really important. I like to keep a note of what each of her colors mean. Even if you just saw her eyes flash, I need to know when, why, and what shade of pink.”

“It’s happened a few times, but never for very long… it’s usually a millennial pink… Um, I don’t think it’s happened around anyone else before because no one else knew what I was talking about when I asked…” 

“How often have her eyes turned pink? What were you guys doing when they turned pink?”

Warren thought back to all the times he swore her eyes turned pink. Nothing huge… Just when we were in class or whenever we’ve hung out this week. Nothing too special— Oh. 

Warren realized something. Something he maybe shouldn’t have. 

Her eyes were fully pink when we kissed… I— I can’t tell Hank and Alex that! They wouldn’t understand and they’d think we’re into each other. Which we are not… Well, I don’t think I’m into (Y/N), but now I’m not sure if she likes me or not.

“Just during class, when we’re alone, just like, whenever we’ve hung out this week. I don’t think it means anything really.” 

“You never know, Warren.” 

He nodded, “Right, right… Am I uh, am I free to go?”

“Yeah, you’re fine, you’re wings are fine. You can access your medical file if you want the details.” 

“Great. Thank you.” Warren hopped off the bed and walked out. 

-

What am I going to do?! (Y/N) might like me! Now I have to put in effort and not seem like a total burnout around her. She’s got high expectations and standards and I’m fucked!

Wait… Warren sat there, confused. Why did he care if (Y/N) liked him?

If I accidentally break her heart, everyone will actually kill me and... I kind of give a shit for once. That’s all…

Warren got his phone out and opened his messages. He opened his conversation with (Y/N). The last thing she sent him was an old picture of Alex she found in the library. 

He typed out hey, ready to send it, but his thumb hovered over the little arrow. What would he even say to her? What if she didn’t respond? What if she actually hated him and that’s what the pink meant? He turned his phone off and set it on his bed. Warren flopped onto his mattress and buried his face into his pillow. 

-

(Y/N) was studying with the other girls. They were reviewing for McCoy’s bio test and she was busy writing down answers for her study guide. 

“Who’s going to the mall Friday?” Jubilee asked out of the blue. 

Jean started listing off people, “Scott, Peter, Kurt, us—“ 

“Warren’s going! He told me,” (Y/N) spoke up. 

“He is?” Jubilee asked. “He didn’t say anything to me.” 

“I asked him yesterday.” (Y/N) had a smile on her face. 

“When?” Ororo got out a pack of gum and offered Jean a piece. 

“We were up in the attic watching a movie.”

Jubilee eyed her, “You guys did what?” 

“We just watched the Addams family. Warren and I are friends.” (Y/N)’s tone was slightly defensive. 

“Your eyes are pink,” Jean stated. 

“What?” (Y/N) quickly looked at herself using her phone’s front camera. “Oh my god—it’s— they’ve— they’ve never been pink before. I don’t know what—“

“Think for two seconds. Who are we talking about?”

Jean! I don’t— I don’t like Warren! Not as a boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend and he doesn’t want to date anyone.

She smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I just really like the fact we’re friends now. That’s all. I’m not in love with him or anything…”

What if my subconscious does love Warren? I doubt it. I think I would know if I was in love. 

“And anyway, it’s just a coincidence. They’ve never been pink before so I’m sure finally being friends with Warren just—“

“They’ve been pink before,” Ororo spoke up.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock. “What? When?” 

“I don’t know when exactly, but Peter told me Warren was asking about it a few days ago.” 

(Y/N) was trying not to freak out. “Why was he asking?”

“Didn’t say, but I bet he saw your eyes flash pink or something.” 

“Oh my god…” (Y/N) was horrified. Warren knew. He knew! He knew how she felt and he would probably never speak to her again or break her heart and (Y/N) couldn’t live with either of those options. She didn’t want the first person she’d ever had a real crush on to find out. Warren didn’t want to date anyone! He told her this, right before they kissed in his bedroom… 

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and groaned. She didn’t know what to do— by this time tomorrow, everyone would know she likes Warren. The embarrassment, the rejection, the humiliation, the—

“Hey, babe. Here’s your textbook you left in my room.” 

(Y/N) looked up and saw Scott giving a book back to Jean. She looked at his face. 

Of course! Scott wears glasses all the time so it’s harder to know what he’s thinking!

“Scott—” 

He turned to face (Y/N). “Yeah?”

“Do you have a spare pair of glasses?”

“Um… I just have my visor. Why are you asking?” 

She waved him off, “Never mind. Jubilee, can I borrow your sunglasses?”

“Sure, why?” 

“I need to cover my eyes. Just for a while. Until this whole, “pink eye” thing stops happening.” 

“Pink eye?” Scott asked, furrowing his brows.

“It’s— It’s nothing, trust me. Warren and I are becoming closer and I’m just happy.”

“Your eyes turn pink when you’re around Warren?” Scott was trying to hide his emotions, for his mind was zooming with thoughts.

“And when we talk about him,” Jubilee teased. 

“You know,” Scott pondered,  “He was asking about that the other day…” 

(Y/N) tensed. Warren had to know. There was no way he didn’t. “He was?” 

“Yeah. What does it mean?”

“It means—”

“—It means,” Jubilee cut her off, “(Y/N)’s got a thing for Warren.”

(Y/N) shook her head, “I do not!” 

“Yeah, you do,” Ororo said offhandedly.  

“It doesn’t matter, okay? I just need some sunglasses to hide my eyes so people don’t know what I’m feeling all the time. Have you ever thought maybe I don’t like being an open book?” The last sentence came out harsher than expected. Everyone was shocked, how could (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the flower child, be so angry? 

(Y/N) looked down, embarrassed from raising her voice, “I didn’t mean to snap at you guys…”

Jubilee spoke over her, “It’s okay. I’ll get you my sunglasses.” 

-

Everything was darker, but that was the purpose of sunglasses, to block out the sun. (Y/N) didn’t mind much, but it was sometimes hard to read text on the board and her eyes hurt by the third period. 

“How do you do this every day?” She asked Scott as they walked down the halls to their next class. 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“Oh…” (Y/N) glances down at her feet wide-eyed with guilt. “Right…”

“I know you’re doing it for other reasons, but I think it’s cool you’re wearing sunglasses all day. I don’t feel alone.” 

“I can— I can still see color though.” 

“Yeah, but not as well. Sometimes I feel lonely when everyone talks about colors— the sunset, the fruit at the grocery store— hell, I even miss seeing the green grass! The grass!” 

“That must be hard.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel pity, even though she knew that Scott didn’t want it. “I don’t think I could ever imagine living in just red…” 

“Sometimes…” Scott sheepishly began, “Jean uses her powers and I can see color for a little bit, but it’s from her point of view, and it’s hard for her. She can only do it for a minute or two, and I don’t want to hurt her.” 

“Aww,” (Y/N) cooed. “You’re so sweet.” 

“Shut up!” A blush covered Scott’s cheeks and he got quiet for a moment. 

“So you and Warren, huh?” 

(Y/N) groaned, “Why am I talking about this with you?”

“Because I’m your only guy friend in a relationship,” Scott offered up as a question. 

She huffed. Scott was right. “Fair point… It’s just… I don’t know… I don’t think he likes me back—which is fine— I just don’t want him to be uncomfortable when he finds out I like him.” 

Scott furrowed his eyebrows, “When he finds out?”

“Pink eyes,” (Y/N) deadpanned. “remember?” 

“Right, right… but how do you know he doesn’t like you back?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “We can’t have a telepath in our relationship.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Jean probably knew you liked her the whole time before you dated.” 

“Hold on! She never read my mind— we made a promise—“

(Y/N) crosses her arms and stopped for a moment, “Mmhmm. All I’m saying is, there’s no mind reader between me and Warren. I can’t tell, and he doesn’t know yet… besides, he told me himself, we wouldn’t work out. We’re too different, and too many people want me to date, Kurt…” 

“Opposites attract.” 

“No, they don’t… At least that’s what Warren said…”

“Okay, listen— Warren is the dumbest person I know.”

(Y/N)’s mouth gaped, “Warren’s not dumb, he’s in two AP classes and speaks multiple languages.”

“What—“ Scott squinted,  “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“You said Warren was dumb. I said he wasn’t.” (Y/N) awkwardly crossed her arms. 

“What I meant was, Warren’s being stupid. Thinking he’s not good enough for anyone, how he thinks he’s too punk for you. It’s obvious!”

“What is?” 

“Warren likes you.”

-

(Y/N) stood there, in shock. She didn’t know what to do. 

Warren liked her. Allegedly. 

“How— How do you know that?”

“You can just tell. It’s obvious.”

Maybe… “Oh…” 

A teacher down the hall scolded some students for loitering in the hall. “We better get to class,” Scott motioned to the kids with his head. 

“Um, yeah. We should get going…” (Y/N)’s eyes flashed to purple.

-

Warren saw (Y/N) in the afternoon. She had on sunglasses, and her hair was slightly messy. She looked hungover, but Warren knew that wasn’t her, partying her nights away, (Y/N) was the perfect princess— and Warren? Warren was John Bender from the breakfast club, except he wasn’t in a John Hughes movie, and he didn’t get the girl and have a half-assed happy ending. 

But back to (Y/N). 

“Hey, Shades.” 

“Hi.” She was curt. Did Warren do something wrong?

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah!” She seemed nervous.  “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“You’re wearing sunglasses…” He pointed out. “Inside…” 

“Yeah?.... I’m just… I just…” She struggled to come up with an answer. 

“Hungover?” Warren suggested. 

“Pfft… No. I don’t… I don’t really…”

Warren nodded, “Right, right. I don’t really either, but I used to so…”

“I’m trying to hide my eyes.” 

Warren turned face to face with (Y/N), blinking in surprise. 

“Why?”

“Reasons…” 

“What kind of reasons?”

“I just don’t want people to read me like a book…” (Y/N) was lying. Partially. 

“Oh… I mean, not everyone knows what your eye colors mean.”

“Most people do. And if they don’t they ask.” 

Warren winced. She knew he asked about the pink eyes. She was going to think of him as some nosy, pitiful, boy with daddy issues.  “People are gonna think you’re hungover.”

“Three already asked.” 

Warren smiled to himself, he found it almost funny. “Why’re you trying to hide your emotions?”

“I like someone.” 

The three words froze in his mind. 

(Y/N) liked someone. Someone who was normal, probably. Someone the student body approved up. Somebody who hasn’t killed people and looks like a nightmare. 

“Oh.” 

He couldn’t see the concern in her eyes when his face obviously fell. 

“Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll see you later.”

Warren nodded awkwardly, “Yeah. See you later…”

-

The mall trip was awkward. (Y/N) had her glasses on still and half of her friends didn’t know why, and Warren was sulking because of (y/N)’s mystery lover.

“So, (Y/N)...” Peter drawled out. “What’s with the sunglasses? You trying to copy Scott?” 

She laughed a little at his joke. “Not really…” Peter raised his eyebrows, silently pressing for details. “I just don’t want people to see my eyes. That’s all.”

“Why? Is it because they’re… pink?”

Damnit, Peter! Warren cursed to himself. You had to bring it up. Rub it in my face that the Princess found her Prince Charming. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/N) glanced at Warren for a moment as he listened to Jubilee ramble on about some girl she met at a thrift store. 

“Why?... Because you’re in looove?” 

(Y/N) swatted his arm. “I am not!” 

“Oh, but I know that's not true.” Peter pouted and bat his eyes. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Woah! Didn’t know Snow White knew such naughty words.” 

Warren grimaced,  Peter was pushing her buttons and Warren wanted to strangle him, but he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Borderline mullet, feathery white wings, and an adrenaline rush with the ability to punch everyone within five feet in front of him. 

Now he was a gang looking member, with trauma, and recovering from bad habits. Don’t mention that he was in love with Mother Nature.

Warren was so lost in his own words that he didn’t even notice Peter and (Y/N) bickering. 

“Stop it—“ 

The glasses fell. And then the unexpected happened. 

Jubilee stepped on the sunglasses. They cracked under her heel. 

“Oh shit! Aw, man!” Jubilee didn’t even care, they were her glasses. She got them at five below for three dollars two years ago. Jubilee picked up the broken shades and looked them over. 

“Oh well. They were cheap anyway.” Jubilee tossed the remains in the trash and didn’t even give it a second thought. 

Warren looked at (Y/N) and they made eye contact. Her eyes flashed purple, maroon, and they settled on pink. Full-on rose gold, soft-blushing pink. 

There were flowers in her hair and they retracted into buds— a defense mechanism— she was scared, but wouldn’t break away from him. 

Everyone looked at them like one looks at a car wreck or a burning building. 

Warren glared at them. “Alright, um, let’s go to Barnes and Noble…” Jubilee dragged everyone away, leaving Warre and (Y/N) behind. 

“Were you hiding your feelings from me?” 

She nodded, “I didn’t want you to know, though.”

It finally all clicked in Warren’s mind. She wanted to hide her emotions from him because she was into him, and everything he said about them “not being compatible, people don’t ship us, the kiss was only platonic”. “I get it.” 

“I want you, but I…” 

“I made up bullshit to push you away because I was scared… You’re way out of my league and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t care…” She stepped closer to him. “I’d kiss you right now, but we’re in public…” Warren quickly cupped (Y/N)’s face and left a peck on her lips. 

Even a quick kiss from Warren was better than anything from a boy at a crappy house party.

“Do you want to go to find our friends?”

“Yeah, yeah. We probably should.” 

-

Warren wasn’t sure at what point her hand slipped into his and held on, but he didn’t move away either. 

Something in one of the shop windows caught his eye though. 

It was a book. Titled, Olympus Gods or something. It made a light go off in Warren’s mind, but he couldn’t figure it out. 

What, why does— Then he saw a Harry Potter toy. The three-headed dog, Fluffy or something. 

Who else had a three-headed dog? 

“Hades…” 

“Hmm?” She looked at Warren with confusion. 

“Hades and Persephone— plant goddess and goth guy.” 

She got the hint right away, and nudged his arm with her elbow, “Dork.” 

Warren blushed, “Yeah, yeah… just shut up,” He joked.

[idonotbitemythumbatyou]

For the ask thing: It's been ages, but I still regularly think about Newt not kissing Hermann because he couldn't figure out how to get around the table. <3

WOAH. I forgot about that! I'm really touched you remember that. Aw. Good times. ; - ;

I remember being really proud of that scene so I dug it up:

“No no! I am not projecting. I live by the rule of cool. I don’t bother with a moral code at all. Why bother with rules if you’re going to have to break them eventually?”

“I shudder to imagine where that philosophy will lead your scientific explorations.”

“Scientists shouldn’t follow rules, man.”

“Scientists are exactly the people that should follow rules.” Hermann said, aghast, “My god you’re a biologist! You of all people -“

“I wouldn’t be a millennial if I wasn’t destroying something! You’ve got to get with the generational program, my dude.”

“Your backpack is hideous and I hate you.”

Newt gasped in mock horror. “No you don’t!”

“I do. I resent even the oxygen I breathe because I am forced to share it with you.”

“Come on!”

“I’ll concede nothing.”

“aaaw Dr. Gottlieb” Newt stretched his arms across the table and laid his forehead down, shoulders shaking with laughter, he lifted his head “what if I tripped on my way back to my room and died and that was the last thing you ever said to me.”

“Then the lab would overnight become a much more productive space.”

Newt sat up and slapped his palms against the table. “You’d be bored!” he laughed.

“But productive.”

They looked at each other for a moment, Newt coming down from his laughter, and Hermann failing to keep his face impassive (you were just barely smiling, Hermann. I always remembered that one particular smile.)

Newt straightened up, becoming serious behind the smile and searching the corners of Hermann’s face. “Am I really that much of a distraction?” he finally said.

Hermann met his gaze like a challenge and tilted his chin up, “You really are.”

Newt swallowed, “Good.”

He knew now that Newton had meant to kiss him right then but couldn’t figure out how to get around the table. So instead they sat nursing mugs of tea until they were both down to the dregs they’d allowed to go cold. And still they sipped silently, neither of them sure how to proceed. Newt was the first to stand. He quietly took Hermann’s empty mug from between his hands and brought it to the sink with his for washing.

“Thank you, Dr. Geiszler.”

“Don’t. This is me getting even.”

Hermann stood and followed him to the sink and leaned against the counter to watch him wash up. He washed the cups with more deliberate care than Hermann would have anticipated. Newton rinsed it clean – taking his time – dried it, and placed in on the shelf with all the other uniform, cheap, white mugs. He started to wash the second one, pretending not to notice Hermann’s close scrutiny.

Newt paused his washing and turned to meet Hermann’s gaze, “What?” he said.

“You’re welcome to call me Hermann. But please, only in private.”

Newton's eyebrows quirked upwards, “Oh.” (Did Newton usually turn red this easily? Had he just never noticed?) It was just the tiniest glimpse of vulnerability before he brushed it off and turned back to washing the second mug, head bowed, slouchy and careless. “Cool.”

He had vividly wanted to touch the back of Newton’s neck there, use his fingertips to lightly direct his head to look back up him. But he didn’t because he knew it would be inappropriate. The moment passed like a freight truck passing inches from his nose.  Instead he watched him finish the washing up, dry his hands and followed him silently out the kitchen. They nodded, and walked in opposite directions towards their respective rooms both faintly vibrating with the exhilaration of a near miss.

That memory had been a happy one. A rose-colored tribute to the once inexhaustible brilliance of their young minds. Their crackling verbal conflicts had been a kindling fire of creation.

But it all would have seemed foreshadowing if he had only guessed his own story far enough in advance.

[doginshoe]

What You’d Do To Me Tonight

summary: Lucy had been in a blooming high school romance, but now that the love has wilted between her and her husband, she searches for a solace. However, she finds it in an already broken man that manages to set her alight in more ways then one. When her secrets spill, she finds her world begins to crumble from beneath her feet as the two men in her life torture her already broken heart. 

tw: Brief mention of abuse

I would like to thank @rougescribe and @bmarvels for betaing this. It's always so much help to have an extra pair of eyes read through something, especially when I'm doubting my work. Check out their writing if you can!

tag list: @shadyhydrathesnekqueen @lovelyluce @trollka21 @sobatsu @millennial-star-gazer @celestialspiritqueen @loveandlucky @theanxiouscupcake @mautrino @sereniii @celestialtitania @otaku-daydreamer-4673 @theweiszguy @samanthaa-leanne @sevenlaila @albinoclifford @darkwingpegasus21 @i-live-off-pina-coladas 

chapter 8.

- 

The sound of a dull thud stirred Lucy awake that morning. She was warm, fingers tightening over the blanket that she had pulled over her chest and she snuggled further into the soft cushion beneath her. It was comforting, though she had definitely felt better days. There was a fog in front of her mind as she let the heat wrap around her, an ache that started around her hips and throbbed all the way around her body incessant on making itself known as soon as she tried to dive back into the lull of sleep. Her eyelids were heavy, already stinging from the light that was peeking in from her bedroom windows, but she refused to meet its bright rays today.

She was tired and in pain - Lucy wanted nothing more than to rest.

A loud clatter jolted her upright before she could let the confines of her exhaustion wrap around her. Her puffy brown eyes snapped open, taking in the living room around her to then whip her head to look at the source of the noise coming from behind her.

Natsu was there, his face turned towards her like a deer caught in headlights as he clutched a cup in his hands that seemed to have fallen off the bench. Lucy had to adjust her eyes as he settled it down, lips already pulling up as he brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head.

This wasn’t her bedroom.

His lips pulled up after a moment, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake ya.”

She blinked - her eyes locking with his before her face dropped, quickly breaking their contact as she felt a tug in her chest - embarrassment making her cheeks warm as she turned her gaze to the floor. The shock of waking up rippled the surface of her memories as she realised why she was on Natsu’s couch. Her heart ached, eyebrows scrunching before she flittered her gaze back up to meet his.

Right. Her and Jackal had-

Natsu was still looking at her, his expression tense, he placed the cup down on the countertop before leaning against it. “Did you get a good sleep?” His voice cut through the thick atmosphere, the sound rough from it’s morning rasp and she realised that he couldn’t have been awake much longer than she had. His pink locks were still strewn in every direction, some sticking up towards the ceiling that made her cheeks darken. The way he was watching her made her uncomfortable as he waited for her response, his usually bright eyes dark with emotion, but he was still trying to strain a slight smile for her.

“I know the couch isn’t very comfortable, especially…” He let the sentence die, fingers drumming on the bench as he pushed the thought aside.

Especially when you’re sharing it with someone else.

It wasn’t a big deal. They had slept together. Just sleeping. He didn’t want to move after she had finally passed out on his chest, but Natsu felt it was out of place to say it outloud - to give the action more meaning than there was. It only served to make him feel off, and he didn’t want to know how Lucy would react. Natsu didn’t want to give rise to those emotions. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. He didn’t think there ever would be a time. Instead he settled to carry the conversation elsewhere as he started again, “You know how old the thing is. I’m sure you had a few broken springs diggin’ into ya throughout the night.”

“Oh, it-”

Her hand reached for her throat, coughing as her voice felt like scraping nails through her windpipe. Yet, each puff of air that left her lips had her eyes watering, throat searing as she tried to stifle the spasm of her lungs. Each heave of her shoulders sent a jolt of pain down her body making Lucy feel dizzy, her eyes closing shut as she tried to calm down.

“Oh, shit.” Natsu turned back, the sound of running water reaching Lucy’s ears as she clutched at the skin of her neck, though she winced as her finger tips made contact with the tender flesh.

She bit onto her bottom lip, keeping in the cry that wanted to leave her as it would only make the pain worse. Lucy felt sick as she remembered the hands that caused the bruises that were now imprinted onto her. She didn’t want to imagine what they looked like, her eyes sliding shut. She didn’t want to know what she looked like right now. The injuries that were littered across her entire body now flaring up as the memories surged back to the forefront of her mind.

She pulled her hand away to instead thread her fingers into the red fabric of the jacket resting near her collarbones, squeezing tight as she felt her throat burn.

“Hey, hey-” He was by her side, warm hands gently touching her upper arm and pulling her back into the moment. “Here. Drink up. You need some water.”

She opened her eyes again, sniffling slightly as she saw Natsu in front of her - green irises watching in concern as his lips were pulled down into a frown. Lucy raised a shaky hand up as she accepted the glass of water he was pushing towards her, though she kept the other still close to her throat.

She knew he’d seen it. There was no way that Natsu was able to miss the marks on her body after he had been the one to clean her up last night. Yet, she still tried to conceal it - gaze flickering to her lap and away from him as she took a small sip of the cool liquid.

She tried not to let the tingles down her throat bother her, feeling like just that small amount was too much for the swollen glands as she swallowed - the sound loud in her ears as she sat in silence. She brought the glass down to her lap, keeping her hand flat against the smooth surface to stop it from shaking.

“Th-than-“ The hum of her vocal cords still hurt, voice coming out strained and croaky, and she paused to take another drink until she finally sighed. “Thank you…”

Those words hung in the air, their meaning not quite coming across properly as Lucy almost whispered them. She felt awkward. There was a lot she should be thanking him for. Not just for a measly cup of water, but Lucy didn’t quite feel like elaborating further for him. There was a weight in her chest, holding her perfectly still as she tried to look everywhere but at Natsu.

“No sweat.” Natsu kept his gaze on her, hands moving back immediately from where he had touched her arm. “How’re you feeling?” He didn’t let his gaze wander, focusing solely on her eyes as he watched her - the worry that had settled into his chest beginning to rise as she struggled to take in air.

Lucy forced a strained quirk of her lips, pulling the jumper higher as she sunk down. “F-Fine.”

“Really, Lucy -”

“I’m okay… Natsu,” She said, but the high pitch tone of her voice betrayed her and she had to force her gaze up slightly. “Really, I’m fine.”

Dark green eyes watched her and Lucy felt her gut twist whilst he studied her. Her nails bit down, picking at the fabric and she had to force herself not to look away. She felt nervous in front of him, a hollow feeling surfacing in her chest as she recoiled.

He knew. There was no pretending, no lying anymore, but she couldn’t fight down the shame that was building up inside her. The weight was getting heavier and heavier, muscles tightening as she squeezed the glass in her grasp.

His hand moved to take the glass from her, not thinking as he reached for her before Lucy visibly pulled back. The water jostled in her grasp and she opened her lips to say something, but nothing came out as they locked eyes - Natsu pulling back as his frown deepened.

They were both skirting around the edge, neither saying a word. The house felt suffocating. The presence of what had happened not leaving and refusing to be ignored, but Lucy wasn’t budging and Natsu didn’t know what to do. His thoughts were jumbled, still trying to work himself through his feelings as he tried his best to make the right choice. Whatever that was. He knew what he needed to do, to be there for Lucy as someone she could rely on, but there was no manual on what steps he had to take. He felt like he was running blind and she was the unfortunate sucker stuck hanging at his side.

He sighed before he stood and tousled his hair, walking away from her and back into the kitchen. She tried to settle her breathing - Lucy unsure when her heart had started beating so rapidly in her chest as she took another tentative sip of water.

“I was going to go to the store, but I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” He started, voice far off in her mind as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “So, the kitchen’s pretty empty but-”

She shouldn’t be here.

Lucy tried to take a breath. In and out. Yet, it wasn’t helping. Her eyes began to sting, blurring with unwanted tears as her throat burned. She tried to swallow down the lump that had formed, but she couldn’t break it down. There was too much for her to think about, her emotions becoming sporadic as she struggled to keep them under control.

She pulled her hand away from her neck, downing the rest of her water as she gripped the cup with both hands. The water dribbled down her face from her quivering lip, dampening the jumper she wore. Natsu’s jumper - That he had given her because she had shown up here with her problems.

Her hands were trembling when she turned to put down the glass, fists tightening before squeezing her eyes shut. Though, the tears dropped onto her cheeks and she had to scrub at her face, flushing from the frustration that was beginning to take hold of her. Lucy let out a shaky breath as she adjusted herself, sitting up straight on the couch as the blanket bunched around her hips.

“Sorry, it’s all I have left.” Natsu’s footsteps were heavy on the ground, coming back as he fell into the couch with another heavy sigh and a packet in his hands. He opened it, fiddling slightly before offering it to Lucy. “Breakfast is served.”

She flicked her gaze down beside her and to the bag of cashews that he was offering her.

“I’m not hungry…” Her voice quavered as she curled her arms around herself, forcing another smile at the man next to her. Though, it was weak, looking similar to a grimace rather than what she wanted to show him. “Thank… Thank you though.”

She tried not to bite the inside of her cheek, feeling sick as those words left her lips again. Thank you… like she had any right to have even ask him- to even show up here after what she had done to him.

This wasn’t right. She felt so wrong and it hurt. That pain sat directly in her chest, below her heart. It was etching itself across her ribs and spreading down to her stomach. Her thoughts only picked up the speed, making her more upset as Natsu sat across from her.

Guilt. Lucy knew of it well after all these years and it was burning through her like wildfire.

“You should really eat something, Lucy.”

Natsu wasn’t attempting to smile anymore, his gaze dark as he turned his body towards her. His brow was pinched together in concern, jaw clenched. Sympathetic care for the woman beside him.

“I’ve got you some pain-killers too. I’m no doc, but I figured it would help.”

It was the only reason he was helping her. She knew it. He was just waiting for her to leave, for her to pack up her mess and get out of his face so he didn’t have to deal with the maniac in his house anymore. He fixed her up because he had no other choice. Natsu didn’t want her here. He just felt sorry for her, that she was so useless that she couldn’t even hold her own marriage together.

Lucy hated it.

She shifted uncomfortably as she kept her eyes down. She didn’t move as he shuffled, the crinkle of foil resounding throughout the small room before he put down panadol on the coffee table alongside her empty cup. The bag of nuts stayed out stretched to her.

All he wanted was to make this better. His thoughts centered around giving Lucy everything she needed as he tried his best to work out what that was. He hated seeing her like this. It made him feel sick. Whether he wanted to admit it before or not, but she was someone he cared about. If he could do anything right in his life then he knew it was helping her. Though, it would be easier if she would let him - her passive refusal not going unnoticed.

Natsu was stubborn.

“I can go get you some more water to take it with,” He mumbled, more to himself, but still loud enough for her to hear. He felt so frustrated. “We could go to the shops- Well, I can walk in.” Natsu looked at her, taking in every bruise as he corrected himself. He was such an idiot. There was no way she would want to walk around in public when she was in pain. “You don’t have to come in… We can get whatever you want to eat. If you don’t like cashews, that is.”

She didn’t answer. Not that she wanted to, but she couldn’t get the words out, throat constricting as Natsu spoke. The weight was beginning to suffocate her. Her ribs feeling as if they were enclosing around her heart.

His lips turned up, making the effort that she wouldn’t. “Or we could get groceries delivered.”

She didn't miss the slight strain of his smile, it was barely noticeable but it stood out to her. Of course, he didn’t want to be seen with her. With the way Lucy looked... Her hand climbed up to once again pull the jumper up to try and hide her neck. She didn’t want to imagine the many gazes that would be on her. How everyone would know.

"Saves a walk and pulling all those bags all the way here." He pushed out more words, as if to fill the silence between them as much as possible. "The cabinets are mostly dust right now so I feel sorry for the poor sucker who has to deliver them." He tried for a chuckle, but it was forced - unnatural as it spilled from his lips.

Though, Lucy wasn’t listening anymore. Her mind became blank as she blurted out her next words, interrupting Natsu’s rambling. “I.. I have to go.”

Natsu paused, his smile falling. “What?”

“I have to go,” She said, voice firmer. Her eye’s finally moved up, meeting his surprised gaze as a silence passed between them. His face twisted, eyebrows narrowing as his lips turned down into a frown, but Lucy wasn’t giving him time to speak.

She pulled the blanket to the side, bringing herself to stand up until her knees buckled. The blonde fell forward, her ankle surrendering under her weight as pain shot up her body. Her head spun, the sudden movement making her feel faint as she swayed. Yet, strong arms were wrapping around her before she crumbled - held firm around her waist, stilling her before pulling her to lean against a hard chest.

Lucy yelped at the contact, trying to pull away but the feeling of falling having her hands wrapping around him before she could stop herself as she struggled to stand. Her breathing was heavy, adrenaline rushing through her and causing her whole body to tremble. Neither said a word, moment continuing to pass as they were joined together awkwardly in a hug. Though, they didn’t move - only letting the seconds tick by as the blonde got hold of her bearings.

When Lucy finally looked up, her brown eyes watering as she met Natsu’s own, he was already looking down at her. He had taken on that same look, the one from last night that didn’t suit him - an expression that was pinched with an underlying pain as he stared at her.

He moved his hands, coming instead to hold her arm in order to keep her stable. His lips were drawn down, eyes already knowing her answer but seeming to ask her the question anyways.

“Go where, Lucy?”

She always loved Natsu’s warmth. It was what contrasted him to Jackal. Where her husband was cold, an explosion of dark anger - Natsu was always light. She didn’t like how that changed now. How he was looking at her with so much furry ladened underneath green eyes. Lucy had never seen it before and she felt the air leave her lungs, a jolt of energy to rip herself away from him rushing through her.

She had faltered, her mind glitching like the sizzle of static on an old TV. She saw Natsu first, his dark irises while he held her causing a pool of heat to rush to her cheeks, but then Natsu wasn’t there anymore. Instead, Jackal glared at her and the grip on her arm felt too tight as she recoiled. It felt all too real, fear seizing her before she had a chance to catch herself.

Natsu let her slip out of his grasp, though he watched her carefully as she grabbed onto the arm of the couch, holding herself up as she lifted her twisted ankle off the floor as she was too uncertain to stand on it fully.

“I-I can’t stay here,” She bit out, forcing herself to speak as tears fell down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure when she had started crying. Though, Lucy had been doing that a lot lately. Her eyes constantly bloodshot and teary.

“Yes, you can. Sit down, Lucy.” He looked like he wanted to pull her back to him, but Natsu wasn’t moving an inch - already struggling to control the level of his voice. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not happening.”

She leaned back, though didn’t let up her grip on the arm of the couch. “I should have never come here! This.. This isn’t your problem, Natsu.” She sucked in a breath, trying to not choke on her tears, but it felt so hard for her to speak to him openly. “..I’m s-so sorry. I never wanted you to have any part in this.”

His frown deepened. “Don’t do this. Please.”

Lucy shook her head, no longer listening to him as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, Natsu. You don’t have to pretend… f-for me..”

She was shaking, hands trembling and her breathing becoming more laboured with each intake of her lungs. She was so stupid to come here. Who did she think she was? Lucy had caused enough damage by using Natsu for her own selfish reasons.

He didn’t deserve this.

“Pretend?” He raised his voice, Lucy wincing in response, and Natsu tried to pull himself together. Yet, his anger was beginning to surge - the thought of what Lucy was accusing him of only adding to the fire that was building. “Lucy, please.. Do you really think I’m doing this ‘cause I have to?“

“I know what happened between us..” He let out a frustrated growl, pushing a hand through his hair. That wound was still tender, he had to admit, but Natsu knew that wasn’t important right now. “Just because of what we’ve been through doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. What’s done is done and I’m going to look after you.”

“I’m not your clean up job, Natsu!”

“I never said that you were!” He hissed. “Would you please listen to me? I don’t know everything, I know, but I don’t care, Luce. Just look at yo-” His throat closed up, his own eyes becoming watery and he had to tear his gaze away, bringing a hand to his mouth as he took a deep breath. “Where do you even think you’re going to go? Because I’m not letting you go back there.”

Go back there...

The thought bubbled up, the question that had been on her mind last night as she had left the house on foot with nothing but the clothes she was wearing - where would she go? Lucy knew the only place left for her was with Jackal. They had played this game before. She couldn’t count the amount of times she had slept in her car, or Jackal had been missing from the house for days.

This wasn’t any different. Except it was. He had something against her now. Jackal tried to kill her. Truly. Lucy didn’t doubt that he would’ve strangled her to death last night if she hadn’t defended herself, but what was she to do…

She wanted to laugh, but she was sobbing even harder. “I- I don’t know…”

The blonde brought her hand up to her face, trying to shield herself from him as she broke down completely. “Natsu, I.. I don’t know w-what to do…”

“Lucy…” He was cautious, swallowing thickly as he watched her crumble once again. “Lucy, please.” Natsu took a deep breath, his hands coming up as they reached out for her - watching her barely holding herself up as she cried.

He couldn’t stand it.

She didn’t deserve to feel this way. No one did. He had his own share of mistakes. Natsu knew how painful being betrayed by someone could be - he had experienced it so much of his life. Constantly surrounded by pain from people that he had trusted. Yet, at the same time, he knew that he would never truly understand Lucy. The very thought of what she had been through-

“Hey,” he spoke softly, slowly closing the distance. “Lucy?”

She shook her head, not looking up at him. She didn’t want to see how he was looking at her, the pity in his eyes as he saw how pathetic she was. Lucy wanted to curl up and disappear. She didn’t want to make these decisions and she… she didn’t want to hurt Natsu anymore.

“I know this hard, but I’m here.” His voice was barely above a whisper, so soft as he tried to coax her towards him, doing what he knew best, but he needed her permission. “Just let me be here for you.”

She choked on a sob, her brain screaming at her, yet, she wrapped her arms around him as soon as he pulled her closer. The distance between them dwindling as his arms encircled her before she pushed her face against his chest. Her tears were soaking into his shirt, small hands clutching tightly onto him. He knew that there was one thing he could do for her now - to be that stability that she needed in a moment where she didn’t have anything left.

“It’s..” Natsu hesitated with his next words, hands tightening around her form tighter in his arms as he contemplated if he really believed what he was going to tell her. Yet, he knew he believed in Lucy even if she didn’t. “It’s going to be okay, Luce.”

“N-no… It isn’t,” She cried, “This isn’t o-okay, Natsu.”

He held her tighter, refusing to let go as he buried his nose in her hair. “We’re friends.” The term felt off as it left his lips, feeling as though it didn’t quite reach where their relationship truly was, but he pushed it aside. “I’m gonna help you anyway I can, which means you can stay here as long as you like.”

“But I-”

“Don’t.” Natsu pulled back just enough so that he was looking into her teary eyes, his expression serious. “You’re not doing this alone anymore, Lucy. I promise you.”

Her lips curved down, the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Everything t-that’s happened-”

“Doesn’t matter,” He breathed, leaning in close. His forehead pressed against her own, but Lucy made no move to back away. Their grasps tight as they stared into the others eyes. “I’m not backing down. We can do this- You can do this.”

“We can go grab your things and I can borrow a mattress from Gray. I don’t mind.” His green eyes were intense, burning with a determination that sent fear pooling in her gut alongside something she couldn’t quite place.

“You don’t have to call that place home anymore.”

Lucy smiled, a real smile that had her eyes shining as tears rolled down the rise of her cheeks. Her chest felt tight still, but warmth was spreading through her and wrapping around every part of her as she laughed before burying her face into his shoulder. It was weak and sounded more like a snort, but she didn’t care. The weight on her, for the first time in so long, feeling so much lighter than it had before as he held her close.

They had merely scratched the surface, she knew. There were so many issues that would eat her up inside when she had the time to think clearly, but for now she let his warmth consume her like before. The effect of Natsu that had her so drawn to him in the first place. It was selfish and naive, but she didn’t want to worry anymore. All Lucy wanted to do was melt in the hope that she knew wouldn’t last. She wanted to let herself rely on him, even for a moment.

Thank you.

[fallingprincess]

Temptation pt.4

Poly!Hardzzello x reader

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Summary: After your sexual threeway adventure, your boyfriend Joe proposes an idea for you to also date his best friend Ben who you are definitely not crushing on.

Warnings: This is pure fluffy awkwardness

Words: 3.8k

A/N: I wanted to bring in some variety and make this really soft. However, part 5 is...well you will see^^

*****

Reaching for your phone on the microwave you narrowed your eyes when you spotted your boyfriend’s face as the caller ID. 

Using your clean pinky to hit ‘accept’ and turn the speaker on you went back to stirring the vegetables that were happily roasting in one of the pans on the stove. “Hey, are you alright? I thought we were up for skype later?”

You could hear Joe chuckle on the other side of the line. “Hello to you, too, light of my life.”

Checking on the fries in the oven - healthy balance right? - you rolled your eyes fondly. “Hi, love of my life. Are you alright, though?”

There was a rustling on his side and you heard some papers shuffling which you knew resulted from him reading the script he had been given to audition for a few days back. “Actually Ben called me a bit ago.” More distracted shuffling. “And he asked for my permission to ask you to hang out with him since he is in town next week.”

“Oh.” was all you managed to utter in surprise and almost missed the sauce overflowing in front of you. 

With a curse on your lips you pushed the pot aside last minute and turned down the heat. 

It had been a while since you had last seen Ben. Although you had all been up for repeating your adventure as you liked to call it, it had never actually happened. Either your work schedules got in the way, or maybe it was the three of you making up awkward excuses on why you couldn’t all be together at the same place on purpose. Summed up: It was just majorly awkward all the way through. Unfortunately. 

“Anyway.” Joe continued when he realised you were not going to continue on your initial reaction. “I told him it’s fine with me.”

You felt stupid for repeating your one-word answer but nonetheless breathed out a quiet “Oh.” Trying to collect yourself by aggressively stirring the zucchini and eggplant mix you exhaled deeply. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well.” How were you going to explain to your boyfriend that maybe deep down in your stomach you had this weird underlying crush on his best friend ever since he had watched you fuck him on his own bed. Kind of difficult that situation. 

“Love, I know you like him.” Joe finally sighed after another pause from your side and the rustling of papers stopped abruptly. “And don’t try to deny it. He told me you have been texting each other.”

“But not inappropriately or anything!” you jumped to your own defense rather quickly - too quickly? 

Joe chuckled again which eased your inner tension. God, you missed him. It had been three long weeks without him. 

“I know. He was very insistent on sending me some screenshots of your weird millennial meme exchange...as I was saying I know you like him. He told me that you sometimes call him when you get anxious and can’t reach me. And that he then reads to you until you feel better.”

“Oh.” Yea, you really had to come up with a better answer to basically anything. “I-...I always call you first.”

“I know. And I appreciate that. I love you.”

Turning off the oven after checking on the fries you spun to lean against the counter and reached for your phone. “I love you, too, Joe.”

“Great..” Another lauh from his side - why did he have to be so far away right now? “If you would just let me finish. I know you like him. And I know he likes you; so why shouldn't you meet?”

You sighed and then remembered the vegetables on the stove that you had been momentarily distracted from by the mental image of blonde curls and green eyes and a smile that could melt butter. “I’m scared something could happen between us again like it has before and I don’t want to risk it because as stated above I am in love with you.”

Happy you had actually made an honest although rambled confession you wiped your sweaty hands onto your sweatpants and then transferred your meal onto a plate already set up next to the stove. 

There was a silence and more shifting and rustling on the other side of the world before Joe spoke again, his voice firm but slightly more high-pitched than usual. “I would be okay with that, too”

Unsure if you had heard him right, you dropped the spatula you had used to get your fries on accident. “What?”

He groaned and you could practically see him ruffling through his messy auburn hair. “I said I would be okay with it if something were to happen between Ben and you.”

Topping off your food with the almost burned sauce you carried the plate into the living room, your phone firmly tugged into your sports bra for easier transport. “I don’t think I understand.”

You needed him closer. With the plate now on the coffee table steaming away you turned off the speaker and instead pressed the phone directly against your ear, Joe’s soothing voice instantly flooding your brain and mind. 

“Have you ever heard of a poly relationship?”

Biting into your bottom lip you began toying with a loose string on your sweatpants nervously. “Yes?”

Joe sighed again and just the sound alone made you want to rip off his shirt and cuddle against his warm and naked chest for comfort. God, you missed him. “Well. I have been thinking about this...situation. And I know you love me-”

“I love you so much, Joe.” you interrupted him and you could hear a smile in his next words. 

“As I was saying. I know you love me...so much.” Oh, how you adored his little giggles, you could basically see his nose crinkling in front of you. “And I think I would be okay if you and Ben started...like dating or whatever.”

Within the tension you had accidentally ripped out the loose thread and you inspected the hole now on your thigh with an annoyed glance for a second whilst trying to form a coherent sentence. Was he being serious about this? “Are you serious about this?”

“Yes, I am.” he replied quickly and firmly. “I love both of you and I think we can make that work somehow. Ben and I are always somewhere off working anyway so you would spend less time alone and I would feel less guilty about always leaving you for such long periods of time.”

“Joe, is this what this is about? You don’t have to feel guilty-”

“I know.” he cut you off before he sighed heavily again. “Just think about it...meet him and talk it out with him. It’s okay.” More rustling. “Listen I actually have a call with my agent I am already like ten minutes late for but I wanted to warn you before Ben called.”

You nodded to yourself while eyeing the plate on the table in front of you becoming colder and colder. “Yea, okay...are we still up for skyping tonight?”

His answer came fast and with a joyful laugh that began easing away your anxieties. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see your stupid face.”

You grinned. “I miss your stupid face.”

After saying your goodbyes you eyed your food again, all of the sudden too anxious to eat. But you knew you still had to to make yourself feel better. 

You stared motionless at the Netflix show running on your tv as you shoveled fork after fork into your face without actually paying attention to the plot or the food at all. 

Were you really going through with this?

This was cheating, wasn’t it?

But normally your partner didn’t give you permission to cheat. 

That made it not cheating anymore, right?

Then why did it feel like you were plotting a felony?

This certainly was a lot. 

Did you even want this?

You didn’t get much more time to overthink this as with your last bite your phone rang for the second time this afternoon and your heart missed a beat when you saw Ben’s name on your screen just as your boyfriend had predicted. 

After a final last and very deep breath you picked up. “Hi, Ben.”

And just like that you had a date with your boyfriend’s best friend. 

***

You nervously checked your makeup in the elevator mirror again. 

Were you underdressed in your leggings and oversized band shirt? But then again you were only hanging out with Ben in his hotel room to avoid any weird compromising photographs being leaked on accident. Was the black velvet choker too much, though? Or maybe it was obvious you had spent way too long on curling your hair into a wavy mess an hour ago?

And why the hell were you so nervous about this?

Hell, you hadn’t been this nervous since - well, since your first date with Joe a few years back ironically enough. 

The doors opened with a ‘bing’ sound and you checked your mascara one last time before discarding your gum into a tissue and stuffing it at the bottom of your bag. 

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this. 

Finding his hotel room was easy. Apparently the hard part was building up the courage to actually knock on it. 

After collecting whatever mental strength you could muster you managed to raise your fist and just a few seconds later Ben opened the door with a dopey smile on his face. 

“Hi.” 

You smiled at him, your cheeks flushed nervously as you took him in after you stepped into the room and closed the door. 

You weren’t sure how he managed to look this sinfully hot in his grey sweatpants and white low cut v-neck t-shirt, but he did. 

With a knowing smirk you eyed his perfectly styled hair and then the way he used his hand to rub the back of his neck in insecurity. 

His nervousness weirdly enough eased yours and you dropped your bag onto his nicely made white bedsheets. “I brought the snacks you requested.”

“Great!” He unfroze a second later and then walked up to be closer to you before taking a step backwards. Awkward. So awkward. And tension. So much tension. 

He cleared his throat before grabbing the remote off the nightstand. “I connected my phone to the TV and I know you like documentaries so I picked some out for us to choose from.”

“That’s nice.” you replied with an uneasy smile and then mentally slapped your own forehead. That’s nice. Really? Really?

He shuffled first towards you and then backwards again before his eyes landed on you in sparkling green. “Can I...is it alright if I hug you hello?...God, I don’t know what’s cool and what’s not.”

His confession made you giggle involuntarily and you quickly stepped in to wrap your arms around his middle. 

With your face now buried in his chest you breathed in his cologne and aftershave and were immediately taken back to the day the smell had been all over you and under you for the better part of an hour. And admittedly? You had missed it. 

His hands interlaced behind your back and he held you tighter against him as he chuckled softly. “Hi.”

Freeing yourself a little bit you wiggled away to glance up at him with a definitely beaming smile. “Hi.”

“Should we start our marathon then?” 

You nodded and then hopped onto the bed to crawl towards the other side of it, leaving Ben enough space to sprawl out next to you without your bodies in too close of a proximity. 

You knew Joe was okay with this. You had actually called him just to ask him for the hundredth time on your way to the hotel. And he had agreed again. And he had sounded honest. Then why did this feel so forbidden and weird and wrong?

“Are we feeling more history or nature?” Ben was scrolling through his netflix list on his phone and you were momentarily too distracted by the way a single strand of hair fell into his forehead to remember how to speak. God, he was beautiful. 

He chuckled when he caught you staring and you awkwardly ran your fingers through your hair to cover up the silence in some way. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded and then shook your head and then nodded again, too confused about the feeling of longing and wrongfulness combining in your chest. 

Ben sighed and then locked his phone before putting it away and shifting to sit turned towards you against the headboard. “Joe told me about the poly thing...and this feels really awkward, doesn’t it?”

You exhaled in relief of him bringing it up first and then laughed lightly. “Very very awkward. What did he tell you?”

Ben smirked as a rose colored blush swept across his cheeks and ears. “He told me he knows about me having a major teenage crush on you and that he is okay with it.”

“Do you?” you questioned whilst biting into your bottom lip to stop yourself from breaking out into a full blown grin when your stomach erupted into butterflies. “Do you have a major teenage crush on me?”

His point of view fell towards the white sheet in between you as his face grew even redder. “I might…?”

Not being able to resist you reached out to tip up his chin with one of your fingers and met his eyes. “I might also have a stupid crush on you, Ben.”

He chuckled again, his face growing soft as he interlocked his hands on his lap seemingly unsure on what to do next. “So we are really doing this poly thing then, huh?”

Taking a deep breath you nodded and then crossed your legs under yourself. “It seems like it.”

Ben eyed you nervously, his thumb fidgeting with his bottom lip as he studied you closely. “This still feels wrong. You are Joe’s girlfriend.”

You nodded, your boyfriend’s face flashing through your mind quickly. 

Ben was right. 

And yes you were really into him and it wasn’t purely sexual. But you also loved Joe and could hardly wait to finally see him again in two weeks. 

You didn’t understand how that could be, but you just knew it was what you felt. 

Maybe you just had to run with it. 

“We just have to ease into it.” You held out your hand towards him, palm up as you raised an eyebrow at the blonde. “Start slow you know?”

He picked up on your cue and reached for your hand before interlacing his larger fingers with yours softly, his calloused knuckles brushing yours gently before he quickly squeezed them together once. 

You really shouldn't have felt this giddy about the fact that Ben was holding your hand. Especially not considering the fact that just two months ago he had been buried in you completely, his naked body pressed against yours as tightly as possible when he thrusted into you over and over again. 

Yet somehow this felt way more intimate. 

“So...history or nature?”

His casual voice made you laugh nervously and you cuddled against the pillow behind your back to look at the TV while being very careful not to break the bond of your intertwined hands in between your bodies. “Nature.”

~

You were only a few minutes into the deep sea creature documentary and not really invested in the hunting grounds of giant squid; because Ben’s thumb was running slow circles along the back of your hand and you could see him watching your every breath from the side. 

Just when you were about to acknowledge his staring he parted your fingers and instead scooted towards you to wrap his muscular arm around your shoulders. 

“Is this alright?”

You nodded, your heart suddenly beating at double the speed as you shifted to cuddle the side of your face against his chest, your legs intertwining with his almost instinctively. 

And you tried to watch whatever the voice tried to tell you about deep sea plankton; you really and honestly tried. But when you could hear and feel Ben’s heartbeat race underneath your ear, his chest rising and falling in synch with yours, his fingers running almost mindlessly over your upper arm, it was really hard not to combust from the tingling feeling in your stomach. 

Nevertheless, you stayed this way, cuddled against his side, until the end of the episode, both of you not daring to move or say a word as the netflix bar filled and then skipped to the next episode automatically. 

The awkwardness was long gone. What had remained, however, was the tension. The both of you clearly yearning for more than this yet not knowing what was right or wrong and good or bad. 

Was Ben your boyfriend now? Apparently. But what about Joe?

You noticed yourself spiralling mentally and were glad for Ben’s low voice whispering so quietly behind you that you almost missed it. 

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

You closed your eyes for a second, wallowing in the feeling of pure euphoria, in the ecstasy of knowing that the guy you had a crush on liked you back, and then turned slowly to straddle his hips wordlessly. 

He was still half-way leaned against the headboard, his arm coming free from your embrace and instead settling against the place where your hips and thighs met over your shirt. 

You studied him curiously and the way his eyes roamed all over you until they finally settled onto yours with another blush on his cheeks. 

“I don’t know why I am so nervous about this.” he confessed with an embarrassed smile that made you reach out to finally brush the strand of hair from his forehead. “I literally had my tongue as far as it could go in your vagina. Why am I so nervous about kissing you?”

Your eyes widened at his blunt words and you were speechless for a second before hitting his shoulder in a light boxing notion. “Ben...oh my god!”

“What?” he giggled, his bottom lip pulled between his plush lips sinfully and cockily. “It’s true. You were there.”

“I-...” you managed to stutter out, too overwhelmed by his sudden flirting out of nowhere. You wished you had that much courage. All you could do was melt away into his arms whenever you so much as glanced at him in all his prettiness. 

His hands slowly wandered up your sides and then extended to hold onto the sides of your neck and jaw to pull you closer to his face. “May I please kiss you? God, my heart is beating so fast.”

You reached out automatically to place your fingers against his chest and the steady beat of his heart racing underneath your fingertips made you smile fondly. One hand staying still in place you used the other to remove his fingers from your face and instead place them below your collarbone. “So is mine.”

The last thing you saw before closing your eyes was him leaning in, the beginning of a bright smile edging onto his lips. 

And then he kissed you. 

And it didn’t feel wrong at all. 

It felt gentle, but like you were exploding from the inside at the same time. 

It wasn’t hurried and filled with lust and temptation. It was soft and careful. It was like you had waited all your life for things to fall into place. And all these things fell right together in Ben. 

It was like you had all the time in the world but never enough to fulfill your overwhelming need for more of him. 

And you never wanted it to stop. 

***

And so it went on. 

At first you had expected it to be weird and awkward, practically dating two best friends; even just dating two people at once. Yet somehow the three of you had made it work. You spent time with Ben whenever he could work it into his schedule and time with Joe whenever he could make the time to fly to Europe or fly you out to New York to see him. And whenever you all managed to spend time together you acted like friends, like you weren’t dating both of them at the same time. 

And somehow that worked. 

You never talked to Joe about your relationship with Ben and vice versa; both of them happy with how things were going. And so were you. 

You were so fucking happy. 

It was almost four months into your poly arrangement when things ultimately started to crumble apart in a way you had not expected it to. You had always known things would get complicated at some point, but you had always assumed that lay in the future and was something you would deal with once it happened. 

Well - now it was happening. 

~

Your head fell back against the pillow, your forearm pressed over your rolled back eyes, the other hand tugging violently on Ben’s hair as he was teasingly sucking on your clit from in between your thighs. 

His tongue about to drive back into your entrance, a vibration on his nightstand snapped you out of your pleasure for a second and you glanced towards the lit up screen to look at a picture of your other boyfriend that was currently on the other side of the globe filming a scene for his newest movie. 

“It’s Joe.” you ushered out in between two heavy breaths, Ben relentlessly drawing circles against your clit over and over. 

His movement however stopped when he looked up at you, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “I thought he knew you were with me?”

You nodded, the vibration next to you not stopping. “He does.”

It was an unspoken rule for the other not to call whenever you spent time with one of them. Joe knew this. And yet he was still calling. Meaning something must have happened. 

Aware of this Ben crawled up over you and then dropped his naked chest onto yours with a sigh. “Answer.”

You nodded, trying to suppress your hard and fast breathing to a normal pattern and picked up Ben’s phone. It wasn’t like you didn’t want Joe to know you were having sex with Ben, he most definitely knew that. It was just something you didn’t talk about much. 

You turned on the speaker and then placed the phone against the crook of your collarbone above Ben’s head. “Hi, love. You’re on speaker.”

You never got a greeting from Joe and instead only two short and angry sentences that made your heart stop in your chest and Ben look up at you in shock. 

“The two of you fucked up. Instagram and Twitter are going crazy.”

*****

Next chapter

As always my Masterlist ♥

[corkcitylibraries]

Cork in Verse | Ana Spehar interviews Jim Crickard

Cork in Verse is a series of interviews by Ana Spehar with Cork Poets. This week Ana interviews Jim Crickard.

Jim Crickard’s poetry is camp, entertaining work that explores culture, sexuality and identity with a hint of colour. In 2020 he was invited to represent Cork in the Cork-Coventry Twin City Exchange, which was moved online due to pandemic. In 2019 he was selected by Poetry Ireland for the inaugural Versify series and performed to a sold out show at Dublin Fringe Festival. He came second in the 2019 All Ireland Poetry Slam Final (and is working through his feelings about it with a therapist). In 2018, he won the Cuirt Spoken Word Platform and was awarded a slot to perform at Electric Picnic. In 2020 his poetry was broadcasted on RTE Arena. A poem he wrote was shortlisted in the 2018 O'Bheal International Five Words Competition, and his work has been published in Automatic Pilot, A New Ulster, and Contemporary Poetry.  

When did you start writing?

I started writing when was 16. I had just come out of the closet, my older brother Shane (20) died the same year in a road traffic accident. Looking back, I think I needed space for expression. I started out with a journal before sleep. It was playful, private, and helped organise my thoughts. I’d draw a little picture at the end of each entry. I acted a bit like Virginia Woolf, with a high-neck collar, writing solemnly by candle light. When people write diaries, I think they secretly fantasise them being found and read by the masses.  

When I was introduced to poetry in my Leaving Cert, I found it to be a bit stiff and flowery with poets like Keats, which had some appeal, but when we moved on to Adrienne Rich and Eavan Boland I was a lot more inspired. It was seeing people use the art form to represent women and give voice to minorities, and how they both textured their work with the confessional. I started writing my own poetry at the end of my journal entries but kept it secret. After a few years, and my first break-up, I started sharing online on a site called AllPoetry. It was great because there were little competitions between users and when I won a few of them I felt brave enough to share my work on Facebook. A few people were kind, but most were indifferent. 

When I started going to O’Bheal in Cork, though, I really felt like writing could have a future for me. Writing and performing alongside other writers really makes it a lot more gratifying and instils the self-belief you need to keep going.  

Could you tell us more about your creative process?

I’m always on the lookout for something to play with and tease out until it’s a poem. I write with the intention of making people laugh when they hear me perform. Unfortunately, ideas rarely happen when I’m walking around day-dreaming. I mostly need to sit down and write to find the idea or follow whatever I’ve got on my mind. One of my favourite poems that I’ve written takes a hen party in a gay bar and expands it into a series of images and scenarios that delight me and make me laugh. If it makes me laugh, then I trust that it’ll make a crowd of people laugh. I didn’t start out with that idea of the hen party though, I was trying to write a rather embarrassing romantic poem set in a gay bar, it was for a guy I was briefly dating. Suddenly there was a hen party in the corner. They abducted me with their willy-straws and novelty-glasses, and I followed their embarrassing moments and social faux-pas as they ran around, interloping and ruining the sacred queer-space. I was much more interested in them than the romantic poem I set out to write. I suppose it’s important to trust where the poem is going and let it reveal itself. If I ignored them and focused on the poem I was trying to write then I’d have missed out. 

How does the creative process of writing affect your mood?

I’m elated when it comes together. I love when I get into a flow and my fingers are typing as fast as they can and what I’m writing is surprising me. That doesn’t always happen though, it can be slow and boring and the cursor can be blinking in front of me waiting for me to write something. 

How often do you write? Do you write every day?

I wish I wrote every day. I’ve heard multiple sources say that that’s the best way to approach it, and I would definitely believe it. I have had periods where I wrote a new poem every week, possibly more than one. I have also had long periods of not expressing anything on the page. The latter feels depressing and I feel my life passing me by. It is this dread I feel that I’m losing precious time to grow and improve as a writer. I rationalise it by reminding myself that I need to work full-time, clean my apartment, cook dinner, which is all true. I also excuse myself by saying that I need to relax and watch some TV or listen to a podcast. I think that writing is the purest of me-time and I’d like to transform my relationship with it.  

Can you tell us more about Venus Envy?  

I have been known to dress in drag from time to time... I performed as Venus for Pride in O’Bheal. Afterwards I went to The Crane Lane with all of the poets. It was interesting being a drag queen out of context in another bar... People wanted to talk to me, some random stranger touched me as they passed by, and someone confided in me with something they had not mentioned before. There’s a strange power to being in drag. It’s like being a shaman, a eunuch, a jester, who is on the outside looking in. You can say things that you daren’t dream of otherwise, and people love you for it. If I had the time and money to do it more often I would. Drag will always have a special place in my heart, and on my right arm is a tattoo-portrait of Panti Bliss, the Queen of Ireland. I’ve thought about putting more drag queens beside her, but it would be like Mount Rushmore of Drag on my arm. Who knows, maybe I will.  

‘Hen Party in The George’  

Be careful around the corners, don’t make eye-contact at the bar, 

watch out for the mom, she’s on safari, in search of exotic birds. 

For a parrot to echo her punchlines, 

or maybe a cockatoo, 

she’s prowling around the cocktail lounge, 

she’s looking for me and you. 

The mother of the bride uses her lazy-eye  

to her advantage,

she edges into a group of faces with meandering conversation. 

Now blocking their exit, unsure 

who she’s addressing, 

on about her gay hairdresser, how great 

he is with the scissors. 

“I’ve never had a problem with the gays now myself” she says, 

pausing to sip from a pink plastic penis, 

pausing for praise.

And one by one, the gays fly south, 

migrating to the bar, 

to the dance floor, to South-Africa if necessary. 

“Snobs” she calls em -

“them gays can be awful touchy.” 

All her Christmases at once 

when the black crow drag queen

stalking her long legs across the stage, 

seven foot tall, in a silver crown of feathers refracting light off the disco-ball.

“Jesus” she says, stealing the

microphone:  “you’re looking better than me” 

“I should feckin hope so” the drag queen says “you’re twice me bleedin’ age!” 

Slowly, slowly, the hen party has pissed off all of the George... 

Abandoning punctured plastic husbands all over the stage. 

Flashing so many cameras it feels like E.T.’s family has landed.

A gathering parliament of lesbians  encircles the hens,

a murder of goth gays come down from their perch 

I wonder if they’ve seen Hitchcock’s movie, ‘The Birds…’ 

by Jim Crickard

Sex in the Housing Crisis  

We are the generation of born-again virgins 

headboards disturb housemates on shift work,

Air-traffic controllers should be included in rent  

to coordinate times to get the ride

Landlords can afford to support our sex-lives 

and change carpets once in a while 

We are the generation of born-again virgins  

Like ships in the night, we work to survive,

but we are no thirty year old cargo boats…

anchored in the harbour, waiting for labour,

we are Ferrari red speed boats    

with miles to go before we sleep,   

miles to go before we sleep.  

We are the generation of born again virgins 

Nothing kills the mood like mildew 

home-sense is built on the backs of millennials 

fumigating probate houses 

converted into one-beds 

with constellations of mould 

and half their salary paid  

to make out on an old couch  

facing a microwave

We are the generation of born again virgins 

If you’re living with parents you can forget it 

unless you can face breaking their trust   

and explain condoms in the toilet-drain. 

We must not forget about our parents sex-lives 

afraid their carefully considered bed springs

will be heard by their thirty somethings 

Let’s give the government hell for 

this inter-generational dry spell! 

by Jim Crickard

[nayutai]

Baby Don’t Move

⇢ Pairing Yunho x Female OC | Office Worker AU

⇢ Word Count 6.010

⇢ Warnings Yunho has a filthy mouth and a huge dick, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, cursing (in general), aaaand I think that’s it

⇢ Summary Naima Yancey is ambitious and determined so her promotion at DevTech comes as no surprise to anyone. What should be a joyous moment for her is tainted. The promotion comes with a real office, more money, and a higher status, but it also comes with close proximity to the office golden boy Yunho. He gets under her skin in a way no one ever has, but she’s determined not to let this oversized menace ruin this opportunity for her. Turns out, Yunho would rather ruin her instead.

The muted ding of the elevator sounds much too joyful to Naima. Her transfer to the accounts receivable department should be marked by the sound of a death rattle or a dying elephant. A twinkling little ding only makes her even more pissed off. She glances down at the contents of the box nestled in her arms to see the brand new name plate she’d been given for her new office. 

Naima Yancey

Receivables Supervisor

The youngest supervisor in DevTech history according to HR. She guesses that anyone else in her position would be excited about the transfer she’s mentally griping about. It’s not every day that someone like her gets unexpectedly promoted to a supervisory position. Naima has only been with the company for three years and apparently she’d made the most of that time. She pauses next to a sea of cubicles to scan the numbers above the offices on either side of the employees rapidly typing away at their stations. Only a few of them even bother to give her a second glance and for that Naima is incredibly grateful. She finally spots her destination, hiking the cardboard box she’s unloaded her desk into a little higher on her hip. She takes half of a step and immediately regrets every life choice that led her to this point.

“Well look who we have here. Are you lost, Ravioli?” Naima grits her teeth at that god awful nickname, swallowing the scathing retort that’s burning her throat. The deep baritone voice sounding off somewhere over her left shoulder is the cause of every ounce of the work stress she carries in her shoulders like a boulder. 

Yunho Jeong. Beholder of an unfair amount of undeserved beauty and the victim in Naima’s most murderous dreams. 

“You were in the staff meeting when they announced my promotion, Yunho.” She deadpans. Her skin is starting to itch from the prolonged exposure to the man in front of her. The smirk that is practically permanently etched on his face does nothing but piss her even more. She wants to smack him until it disappears.

“I’m just messing with you, Ravioli. You know that. Welcome to Receivables.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he starts backing away. “Try not to fuck it up!” Naima can feel the thick cardboard of her box bending to the forceful clench of her fists. The weight of of nearly fifty pairs of eyes keeps the scathing remark she wants to make from bubbling up. 

Fucking Yunho. Naima hasn’t even been in Receivables for an hour and she’s already doubting if the extra money is worth the headache. Okay, who is she kidding? The extra money is definitely worth it. Getting ahead of her bills had felt like the pipe dream of a wistful millennial before it had become an unexpected reality just last week. No way she lets some oversized preteen bully ruin this for her.

Naima is almost done putting her things into her new desk when the sound of an office door loudly closing disturbs her concentration. She looks up to see the source of the noise is none other than Yunho himself. All of the offices on this floor conveniently have floor to ceiling windows next to the door which allows people directly across from each other to see into the other person’s office. Naima is absolutely horrified at the implications of this as Yunho stares her down with a satisfied smirk. It’s obvious now that he slammed his door on purpose to get her attention. 

“This is the worst day of my life.” Naima mumbles to herself as she does her best to ignore Yunho’s gaze burning into her forehead. 

IT arrives a few tense minutes later to set up her docking station and get her started on the training modules for her new job duties. She’s taking notes on how to perform certain functions in the billing system when she receives a chat notification from her work husband Knox Rivers back in her old department. 

KR: Hey wifey how’s the swanky new digs?

NY: My office is DIRECTLY across from Yunho’s office

NY: I can literally see every move he makes and he can see mine

KR: Dreamville? My treat

Naima immediately perks up at the mention of the bar down the street that has become a favorite amongst their group of friends. It’s going to take a lot to make her feel good about working in such close proximity with Satan’s hardest working demon, but a free round of drinks is a great start.

NY: I’ll meet you downstairs at 5:30

Naima nearly bursts into tears when she steps off of the elevator and spots Knox leaning seated in the lobby playing a game on his phone. She’s always thought that he looked like Thor with his long hair and athletic build and right now a superhero is exactly what she needs. A giggle bubbles up from Naima’s throat at the red stain that creeps down Knox’s throat when she sneaks up on him to kiss his cheek. 

“Come on, big guy. There’s a Blue Magic with my name on it and I intend to collect my due.” Naimah declares, clapping Knox on his broad shoulders. 

“Lead the way, my lady.” He holds the door open like the gentleman he is with a dramatic flourish. Naima’s heart twinges a little. She misses the days when talking to him in person required her to lean back in her chair as opposed to taking an elevator ride. 

A few other people from the office are already at Dreamville when Naima and Knox arrive. They’re quickly swept up in familiar gossip and more drinks than anyone has a right to consume on a Tuesday evening. She’s engaged in a dangerous game of darts with a new employee named Xavier when a horribly familiar voice rings out above all the noise in the bar. Her head whips in the direction the voice came from, but the dart flies from her fingers anyway nearly taking some poor girl’s eye out. She yells out an apology but apparently her almost victim has had a little too much to drink herself and simply waves her off.

“Nice aim, Ravioli. An inch to the left and you would’ve scored a perfect murder.” Yunho taunts. Naima crosses her arms across her chest in indignation. Her eyes watch him intently and therefore don’t miss the way his gaze drops to get a look at her cleavage. His jaw ticks and she wants nothing more than to comment on that but Xavier interrupts by extending his hand in Yunho’s direction as he introduces himself.

“Naima, you ready to leave? I was about to call an Uber.” Knox materializes out of nowhere, phone in hand and Naima’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she sees that it’s nearing eleven. She hadn’t realized that they’d been there for so long.

“See you tomorrow, Ravioli. Later, Knox.” She’d almost forgotten that Yunho was still here. He winks at her before he turns to walk away and, despite the fact that he can no longer see her, Naima flips him off. 

Naima is still fuming nineteen minutes later when the Uber arrives. She successfully dodges Knox’s first few questions about why she’s so mad, but he eventually wears her down. She’d forgotten that Knox becomes a wannabe psychologist that likes to talk about people’s feelings after he’s had a few drinks.

“What do you have against him? You’re probably the only person at the whole company that doesn’t get along with him.” Naima rolls her eyes skyward. Yunho the golden boy is apparently loved by everyone and it makes her seethe even more. She wracks her brain for someone at the company that she can add to her side and thankfully comes up with a name.

“Fake news! Saia in purchasing called him a douche nozzle last week and I am inclined to agree.” Naima is quite pleased with herself as she settles back into the plush seating of the SUV. Her satisfaction is short lived.

“Saia doesn’t count.” Knox counters quickly. “Yunho dated her younger sister and it ended badly so that just leaves you.”

“The night before my first day at DevTech, my friends from back home came to town to celebrate and we went to this super fancy restaurant.” The red light at the intersection bathes them both in its glow which is ironic in Naima’s opinion. 

She regales Knox with the store of how her friend Keyanna had bought her a ravioli entree to go so that she could have her favorite food on her first day. Yunho had snuck up on her when she was in the break room, startling her to the point that she ended up dropping a ravioli on her white button up. Of course the evil bastard had laughed about it till he could barely stand. She’d had to walk around for the rest of the day with the sauce stain on her shirt and Yunho has called her Ravioli every day since then.

“That…” Knox pauses to piece his thoughts together. “okay, yeah, I can’t say I’d be too fond of him either after that.” He admits.

“See? He’s an asshole and I hope he steps on a lego every day for the rest of his miserable life.” Their Uber driver, who had remained silent aside from the quick hello when they’d gotten in her car, snorts at the curse Naima speaks into Yunho’s life. 

“You know he teases you because he probably wants to fuck you right? Men aren’t as evolved as people would like to believe.” Knox points out. Naima withdraws from him as if he just told her to go fuck herself.

“If he thinks that being an asshole will grant him access to my pearly gates then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought he was.” She and the driver exchange a high five when she chimes in with her agreement. Naima makes a mental note to make sure that Knox tips her good for being an intellectual.

A wave of exhaustion washes over Naima when their apartment complex comes into view.  Thoughts of a hot shower and her fluffy pillows makes the time required to drive to their part of the complex feel like an eternity. She bids the friendly Uber driver a safe and prosperous night before all but running towards her building with a wave to Knox tossed carelessly over her shoulder as he makes his way to the building directly across from hers.

“Morning, Killer.” Yunho is way too chipper this morning especially since Naima has already had to suffer through elevator chatter about how he won a drinking contest last night. It doesn’t help that now he’s bringing up her almost homicide.

“Don’t you have something else to do? Like your job?” Yunho pretends to recoil from her remark as he follows Naima to her office. She wishes she could just haul off and smack him but that wouldn’t bode well for her professional career.

He props himself up against the wall next to her office and it’s as she unlocking her door that she registers just how close he is to her. A small shift of her weight to her right foot would push her up against his chest. Her mind drifts back to what Knox had said last night. She side eyes him cautiously before turning fully to face him head on. If anyone were to ask, Naima would blame what she does next on residual alcohol still inhibiting her rational thought.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Yunho blinks several times in shock but he recovers quickly. He flips around to take stock of the people still filtering into the office to see if anyone is within ear shot and is seemingly satisfied by the lack of people around them.

“I never pegged you to have an exhibition kink, Ravioli.” She curses herself at the way the low timbre of his voice resonates deep in her gut. The greasy smile on his face however, makes her want to puke.

“My kinks are none of your business. I’m just trying to prove a point. Now answer the question.”

“I can only imagine what that point is, but yes, I would absolutely love to ravish you.” He leans in even closer so that she can smell the minty scent of his toothpaste when he whispers in her ear. His closeness doesn’t make her recoil in the way that she thought it would and the reasoning behind that is definitely not something she’s willing to explore.

The second she gets her laptop booted up she’s tapping out a message to Knox.

NY: Lunch on me today. We need to talk.

KR: I’m all yours at 12:30 

Naima is still pondering her conversation with Knox when she steps off of the elevator to go back to her office after lunch. He seems to think that the best way to get Yunho off her back is to fuck him. According to Knox and his personal knowledge of “guy logic”, that will get her out of Yunho’s system and his annoying behavior will cease. Naima isn’t so sure about that. She’s so far inside her own head that she doesn’t even hear someone calling her name until they tap her on her shoulder. Of course, it’s Yunho. Luck is just not on her side today.

“Ravioli, you should consider getting your ears checked. I called you four times.”

“And you should consider that maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” She replies. He makes himself comfortable in her office as she drops her purse into one of the desk drawers to jump back into her work. 

“Oh, don’t be that way, Ravioli. I thought we were past this animosity thing since you practically propositioned me in the hallway.” He looks so smug as he recalls her blunder from earlier. God he’s so infuriating. Naima adds this to her running list of why men should be removed from Earth. She says nothing, choosing to simply point towards her office door. Thankfully, he’s not too dense that he can’t take a hint and returns to his own office space.

She’s settled into a steady pace with her work when her computer pings with a message. The prospect of clearing out her dashboard and possibly being able to leave early is too sweet to break her stride. Two more subsequent pings from effectively breaks her concentration.

YJ: hey

YJ: you look so cute when you’re concentrating

YJ: don’t ignore me I’m sensitive 😭

She looks through the glass into Yunho’s office to see him already staring directly at her. His head being propped up on his hands suggests that he’s been doing it for a while. He blows a kiss in her which she returns with a middle finger. She raises her computer monitors so that he’s no longer able to see her face. 

Next order of business: buying blinds

Naima groans out loud when her computer pings with yet another message. At this rate she’s going to have to stay late to get everything done. She halfway expects the new message to be another annoying attempt at conversation from Yunho but thankfully this one is from someone that she actually doesn’t mind talking to.

KR: hey did you hear that Yaya bought a new house?

NY: yeah she just texted me that she’s having a bbq this weekend to celebrate the closing

KR: you going? 👀

NY: don’t ask me a stupid question like that of course I’m going

KR: lmao okay so we can split an uber then

KR: wanna leave at like 3?

NY: yeah that’s fine with me!

Naima is so happy for Saturday to finally roll around that she could cry. Yaya had told her a few things on the menu on Wednesday and her mouth has been watering ever since. Her husband is a chef at some fancy restaurant so she knows that this will be the best food she’s had in a while. 

Knox and Naima are both slack-jawed at the absolute grandeur of Yaya’s house as their Uber driver comes to a stop in the center of the horseshoe shaped driveway. She’d neglected to mention that her new house is actually a castle. Naima frowns when she spots Yunho’s flashy Mercedes amongst the cars already parked in the driveway, but she’s determined to have a good time despite his presence. They follow the sound of music and splashing to the backyard to see a majority of the DevTech staff in the backyard. They’re quick to strip down to their bathing suits to join in on the chicken fight in the pool.

Naima has just sent Alexis from marketing flying off of Xavier’s shoulders when Yaya announces that it’s time to eat. It’s a race to get out of the pool as everyone is hustling for a good spot in line. Naima is cursing the god awful heaviness that plagues her every time she steps out of a pool when she hears a low whistle from behind her. It’s Yunho and his eyes are trained directly on her ass. Big surprise there.

“Yellow is definitely your color, Ravioli.” He produces a large, fluffy towel seemingly out of nowhere, offering it to her. She’s hesitant to accept it but a quick glance towards the now empty table that had once held an assload of towels changes her mind.

“I think I would look just as good on you.” Yunho smiles as if he’s just hit her with the best pick up line known to man. He’s gotten quite brazen with his flirtatious attempts ever since he’d exposed his sexual intentions on Monday.

“You talk a big game but everyone knows that overly confident men are just…” Naimah trails off with a pointed look at the front of Yunho’s jeans as she takes a sip of her lemonade. “overcompensating.”

Yunho pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he considers the woman in front of him with amusement. He revels in the way she swallows nervously when he closes the gap between them. Every breath she takes causes her barely covered chest to graze against his but, to her credit, she doesn’t back away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but being this close to Yunho is making her blood run hot. She chooses to blame it on her primitive instincts and not actual attraction, but even she knows that’s a lie.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to speak on things you know nothing about, Ravioli?” She can’t decide what she’s more mad at, the nickname or the insinuation that this asshole just said she’s wrong. She’s not.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to lie?” She bristles. Yunho’s sarcastic little grin only grows in response to her anger. It’s like he gets off on making her want to wring his neck.

“Admit it, Ravioli. You want this just as much as I do.” Naima gasps when Yunho suddenly wraps an arm around her wait, jerking her to him. He leans down so that he’s speaking directly into her ear and in that moment, Naima knows she’s a goner. All these months of resisting him and he’s about to break her by whispering in her ear. She wants to scream bloody murder. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll take you higher than you’ve ever been.”

“Prove it.” Naima feels like she’s put the final nail in her own coffin. Yunho has successfully worn her down. She can’t see his face, but she doesn’t have to to know that he’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery.

“Let’s go, Ravioli.” Naima expects Knox to be disappointed to see her leaving with Yunho when she waves at him to say bye, but instead he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. She makes a mental note to yell at him for that later.

The ride to Yunho’s apartment is entirely too short. Naima’s shoulders are wrought with tension as she follows him up the stairs. Part of her wants to turn and run, but a much larger part is telling her to stay to see this through. Yunho has spoken quite highly of his sexual prowess and she’s more curious than not on just how much of it is true.

Yunho is on her the second she toes off her shoes by the door. One of his large hands firmly holds her jaw in place while he ravages her mouth with his own. Naima clings to his shirt to both hold him to her and ground herself in the moment. She feels lightheaded but it’s not from lack of oxygen. He uses his grip on her jaw to pry her mouth open, furthering his claim on her. The hand not covering her jaw skims across the skin above her shorts before deftly undoing the button. Her lips chase his when Yunho pulls away but he avoids her advances.

“Your lips taste so sweet. I want to taste all of you.” Naima shivers at the roughness of his voice. His normal baritone is a lot to deal with but this is downright sinful. He roughly hauls her off her feet into his arms, causing a fresh wave of arousal to flood her panties. 

She busies herself with leaving marks along the column of his neck, loving the way she can feel his gruff moans vibrating against her lips. The smack of Yunho’s hand hitting the wall to steady himself when she grinds her hips against his startles her into.

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me, baby girl.” Naima smiles mischievously, letting her lips linger on his skin. Something about the pet name he called her makes the heat simmering in her belly grow even hotter. He tosses her on his oversized bed once he collects himself enough to finally make it to his bedroom. She watches him curiously as he turns to dig around in his nightstand. His hand reappears with several foil packets in his grip which he promptly drops onto the mattress for later use. 

Clothes fly haphazardly as Yunho hastily strips them down till nothing but his boxers remain in place. He smirks when he notices Naima’s playful grin drop when she takes in the size of the bulge he’s sporting. His large hands grip her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and rustling her around to a more favorable position. Finally satisfied with the way her face is pressed into the expensive Egyptian cotton of his bed sheets, Yunho buries his face in her dripping cunt from behind. He groans at his first taste of her and her answering whine is nothing but appreciative at the way it vibrates against her.

Naima yelps when Yunho’s large palms suddenly land on her ass with a resounding smack. He soothes the sting with tender caresses against her flesh. His tongue never leaves her entrance as he continues to coax a seemingly endless stream of arousal from her. She has the sheets in a death grip, moving her hips as if to separate herself from Yunho’s lethal tongue but wherever she goes his face simply follows. The slurping sounds of him feasting on her are absolutely obscene but she’s way too far gone to be embarrassed. She doubts that she would be able to form a coherent sentence of protest even if she wasn’t. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I could drown in this pretty pussy.” Naima keens at his filthy words, squirming restlessly as the pleasure builds and builds within her. 

It’s no surprise when she tumbles over the edge with a strangled shout, but she’d expected for him to release her once he’d made her come. Much to her surprise, Yunho doesn’t seem to have any plans of stopping. He tongues her through her orgasm, sucking gently on her clit as he thrusts two fingers into her still spasming entrance. Her knees buckle immediately from the sharp pang of oversensitivity. Yunho pulls his fingers from her long enough to land another harsh smack to her ass while his other holds her hips in place. The discomfort bleeds into pleasure until she’s racing headfirst into a second orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Give it all to me.” Naima swears she’s on the verge of blacking out when Yunho finally releases her. She collapses against the mattress when he relinquishes his grip on her, trembling from head to toe. His chest is warm against the sweat-slicked skin of her back when he covers his body with his own. He leaves chaste kisses along her shoulder as he loops an arm around her torso.

“Don’t tap out on me now, love. There’s still more fun to be had.” Yunho grinds his cock against her ass, smiling against her skin when he feels her shudder in his hold.

He pulls himself up on his knees, dragging Naima’s tired frame with him. He makes quick work of removing his boxers and rolling on one of the condoms he’d grabbed earlier. She jerks when the head of his latex covered cock bumps against her sensitive clit as he covers himself in the slick still leaking from her cunt. Yunho watches the back of her head like a hawk as he slowly presses himself against her entrance. He swears quite creatively at the way her muscles lock down on him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!” Naima drops her head to rest on her arms, doing her best to relax. He reaches underneath her to rub circles into her clits and succeeds in pushing forwards a few more inches.

His breath catches in his throat when she pulls her hips before pushing back against him to sink down a little further on his thick length. They work together until he’s finally seated balls deep inside her. Yunho’s eyes roll back in his head at the tight squeeze of her perfect cunt. He’s been inside quite a few women in his day, but this feels almost like uncharted territory. He hisses when she flexes around him involuntarily, tightening even further though he didn’t think that was even possible.

“I’m going to wreck this pussy, baby.” He punctuates his statement by withdrawing till only the tip remains, pushing back in with a purposeful thrust of his hips. Naima nearly chokes on the pitiful whine that claws its way out of her throat. “You’re gonna feel me in here for days.”

To his credit, he tries to keep his pace even and not too fast. He really does. His fingers are probably bruising her skin from how tightly he’s gripping her hips but it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and sane at this point. 

“You call this wrecking me? I could’ve done this at home with my Rabbit.” Naima can admit that Yunho’s dick was a hard pill to swallow at first, but she’s thoroughly adjusted and in need of more. Judging by the way his hips still she’s about to get just what she was aiming for. She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her upright so that he can whisper in her ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch that pretty little mouth of yours?” He practically growls in her ear as he grinds against her cervix. The pain mixes with the pleasure in a way that’s starting to make her lightheaded. 

“No, you didn’t.” She responds breathily. Her fingernails dig into his thighs painfully but Yunho doesn’t care even a little bit.

“Well, I should’ve.” He shoves her back towards the mattress not giving her even a few seconds to get her bearings before he’s rearing back to slam back into her tight heat. 

She shouts his name, squirming in his iron grip but he shows her no mercy. The time for that has past. Yunho’s hips piston in out of her at a furious pace. His gaze is fixated on the way her pussy creams on his dick with every thrust. His chest rumbles in protest when manages to pull away from him enough for his cock to fall out of her.

“Don’t run from me, Naima. You wanted this dick and now you got it.” She keens at the sound of her real name coming out of his mouth. The way his husky tone wraps around the syllables should be illegal. He fists the sheets next to her head with one hand as he uses the other to reposition her hips to allow him to slide back inside. His legs straddle both of hers, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck her into the mattress.

Naima’s fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks in Yunho’s wrists as she holds on for dear life. She’s never been so thoroughly fucked in all her life. He’s reaching spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed until now. She’s on the verge of tears when he slows his frantic pace. He lowers himself so that his larger frame dwarfs hers once more. His arms looped under hers to hold her close to him. Yunho resumes his movements, opting for a much more relaxed cadence. The purposeful grind of his hips is just as overwhelming if not more so after the intensity from before.

“This is my pussy now.” Yunho grunts into her ear. He sucks marks into every inch of skin that his lips can reach. “No one will ever fuck you this good. Never fuck you this deep. You’re all mine.”

Naima bites down hard on a pillow that she must have grabbed at some point as she clenches around him hard. It dawns on her vaguely that Yunho hasn’t touched her clit once. She’s about to come from penetration alone. A feat she’s never been able to accomplish. The very Earth feels like it’s opened up beneath her when the orgasm that had been flirting with her senses finally washes over her. She feels him grow impossibly harder inside her as he reaches his own end. Black spots dance across her vision when the throbbing sensation of him filling the condom triggers a smaller, biting orgasm. 

She’s surprised that she manages to stay conscious if only barely. Her surprise only grows when she feels a warm towel gently wiping between her legs. Her shock reaches a fever pitch when Yunho’s fingers start working into her calf muscles. She chooses to stay silent out of fear that he might stop if caught being nice. 

“You done pretending to be asleep? Or did I actually fuck you stupid?” She can practically hear the smile in his voice as his fingers climb higher to her thighs. So much for peacefully enjoying this massage.

“I like you better when you don’t speak.” His amused laughter brings a smile to her own face despite her attempts to tamp it down. She shivers when he places a chaste kiss on the swell of her ass before going back to his ministrations on her legs. Knox is never going to let her hear the end of this once he finds out.

 She’s about to go insane. Naima’s stomach has growled twelve times in as many minutes and if she doesn’t eat something soon there will be fatal consequences. She checks her phone once more to check Knox’s location and nearly cries when it says that he’s arrived at DevTech. Just a few minutes stands between her and hot bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and an extra large caramel macchiato. 

The sight of Knox navigating the sea of cubicles with her breakfast in hand may as well be the second coming of Christ. She throws her arms around her neck the second he steps into her office. He pretends to be disgusted when she pecks him on his cheek repeatedly. Knox takes a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk to talk before he goes back downstairs to work. Their conversation when Yunho suddenly burst through the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Naima is appalled at the way he’s just invited himself into her office without even having the decency to knock first.

“I should be asking you that. I asked you for the Murchison report fifteen minutes ago but I guess you were too busy with your little boy toy here to actually do your fucking job.” Knox stands, mouth fixed to defend her, but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Knox, can you excuse us please?” Naima says sweetly. Her tone is sweet and even, but there’s a hard edge to it that tells Knox she’ll be able to handle Yunho’s temper tantrum just fine.

Naima wraps her sandwich up as she motions for Yunho to have a seat in the chair Knox has just vacated. She shrugs her shoulders when he refuses, crossing her modest office to lock the door and close the blinds she’d installed.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Jeong? Did you fall and hit your head? How dare you come to my office and insinuate that I’m not doing my job?.” He can tell that she’s working hard to keep from yelling at him but her words feel like a slap in the face either way. 

“Look, I just need the Murchison report so that I can finish some paper-” Naima doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. She has no patience for him and his bullshit.

“Cut the bullshit, Yunho. The Murchison report wouldn’t be useful for anything other than end of year reporting which we are eight months away from so what the fuck do you actually want from me?” She’s seething. DevTech has a super relaxed company culture but HR still wouldn’t take too kindly to her punching another employee in the throat.

“Why didn’t you text me back yesterday?” Naima is taken aback. She remembers receiving a few texts from him on Sunday — how he got her number she doesn’t know — but it wasn’t anything that she felt warranted a response. 

“Why would you want me to?” 

The more they talk, the more Naima realizes that they went into that bedroom with very different ideas of what was going to happen afterwards. She’d intended for it to be a one time thing for him to try and prove her wrong which he’d succeeded in doing. Nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, Yunho had other ideas that went far beyond the four walls of his bedroom. 

“This is new territory for me. I’ve never been jealous over women because I can get a new one in five minutes. I’ve never had a problem in that category.”

“Get to the point, Yunho.” She’s quickly growing bored of this conversation and she’s ready  for it to be over.

“The point is that I want to see where this goes. Are you down for that?”

“No, you’re an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s true, but I’m cute and I’ll eat you out till you cry so what’s it gonna be?” He looks so hopeful that part of Naima wants to reject him again just to mess with him, but she’s not totally heartless. She decides to make him a deal.

“I’ll give you one week and then we’ll go from there now about this eating out business…” She trails off, looking at him suggestively. 

“Come home with me after work and I’ll give you what you want and more.” The mischievous grin on his face promises another day of limping around and Naima is excited to say the least. 

“You’ve got a deal. Now get out of my office.” She deadpans as she starts to unwrap the breakfast sandwich she hadn’t been able to finish earlier. He catches her off guard when he swoops in to steal a kiss from her lips as his “parting gift”. 

“Later, Ravioli.” 

She touches her fingers to her lips as she watches him walk back to his own office through her open door. It’s going to be an interesting week.

[zwiezraczek]

6 + 1 Underground [Four x OC/reader] Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Sasha is a Polish girl, with a strange past. She has various skills, driving amongst others. So she becomes Eight. And you know that Four plus Four is Eight...

CHAPTER 1: Eight is Born - CHAPTER 2

WORDS: 2.3k

Sasha instantly opened her eyes, taking the gun from under her pillow and pointing it at the black figure that stood in front of the window of her apartment. Her blond messy hair was all over her face as she tried to focus on the intruder, waiting for them to move, to put their arms up, to surrender. But they didn't. They stood immobile, there, in between the airy curtains moved by the breeze.

“Got me,” the man said with a warm tone, just as if he was smiling, “you're quick as hell.”

“Shut the fuck up and turn on the lights motherfucker,” she barked still pointing at him. Her eyes were focused on the man moving slowly towards the little lamp in the right corner, as she moved herself on her bed. But he took his time, and she didn't like it. “Don't you fucking play with me or I'll fucking kill you.”

“So many swear words coming from the mouth of a young and delicate lady,” the stranger teased just before switching on the light.

The scene could have been embarrassing if Sasha was the shy type of girl, but she wasn't. Her large white t-shirt barely covered her panties as she was on her knees over her sheets, eyes focused on her target. Her blue pearly eyes looked at him, she had the face of an angel. This was why they chose her.

When her mother died, she lost everything, even her father, who spiraled down into immorality more than he did before. So she decided to go all illegal, no strings attached in this Polish city, Sasha and her pretty face coming right into the Polish mafia. They told her that the best she could be was a whore for them, maybe even the boss if she was lucky enough, but Sasha was so much more than she looked. She was Kubica. That was how her mother used to call her when she was behind the steering wheel. She was reckless, she was bold, she could be a danger for the people driving around her and to tone this down, her mother made her take some ballet classes. Discipline and recklessness, everything Sasha was made of. From pseudo whore to mafia's chef, Piotr's, driver.

“Fuck you, don't you dare telling me what I should be or not, you fucker,” she dangerously whispered as the man casually stood next to the lamp, arms crossed. “What do you want from me?”

“Why don't you run from me?” the stranger continued still looking at her. She felt disoriented, making a small head tilt as he said these words. “Fucking millennials, when you try to be like them they go “No, I don't get you old man, tbh sorry”,” he continued, a little bit deceived by what he just witnessed. “Billie Eilish, or whatever? Doesn't ring a bell?”

“I won't repeat myself,” she warned, her index ready to pull the trigger. “You don't talk, you won't live.”

“Okay, okay, let's chill a bit. I'm not here to kill you or whatever, but more to... Allow you to be free?” She rose an eyebrow, not putting down her gun. This man was stranger than she had expected, it would have been easier if he just wanted to kill her. She would have pulled the trigger. Boom, no problem. “Well, you know, I know you very well Sasha.”

“Ho the fuck do you know my name?” her words were sharper than a blade. Nobody in the mafia world knew her by her real name, she was Kubica. No Sasha, just Kubica, the driver.

“I know many things about you Sasha... Damn, that's so uncomfortable to stand, I'll sit if you don't mind,” he concluded before sitting on a small stool near the lamp. “So, I was saying. I know many things about you, that you're a ballerina...”

“Was,” she corrected angrily.

“Yeah, dancing stays dancing,” he brushed the subject off as soon as he spoke about it, “you work for that mafia for a long time because your father is an asshole that let you down when your mother died...”

“Don't you dare talking about my mother, understood?”

“Wow, relax. Promise. Wow, taboo. Okay, I'll remember that. So,” he pursued after a small pause, “your dad does some bad shit, you didn't like that shit so you started to do your own shit and your ways are parted now, Kubica.”

“My mom used to call me like that,” she whispered, body slowly becoming less and less tense. “Who are you?”

“Guardian angel, wanker, asshole billionaire... Names are countless, depends of the people you're asking. But mostly, I'm a ghost.”

“You fucking kidding me,” she erected while looking at him from head to toe.

“Well, technically, in the records, I'm dead. But, really, I'm not. Can you believe how simple it is to fake your own death?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Exactly,” he said as if she cared. “And then comes the fun part of being dead: you can do whatever you want. Heard about the big Coup, Murat Alimov, Rovach Alimov?” She only nodded. “Our job. We did it.”

“We? I thought you were alone.”

“We'll make the introductions later if you don't mind Sasha. But, well, we have another touchy touchy mission and we'd need a good driver so...”

“I'm working for Piotr,” she interrupted him harshly. “I'm loyal.”

“I know, discipline and shit but like... We really need you? Pretty please?”

“You have plenty of drivers in the sea, go and fish for them.”

“No many drivers are Kubica and look like an angel.”

“I said I'm loyal. Now leave or I'll blow your head.”

“Wouldn't you like to piss your father off even a tiny bit little more? Imagine him learning that you're dead, and you know, he's a motherfucker basically, he fucks around now... You'll be able to do some nasty things to that immoral motherfucker without being punished for it. Total freedom. Piotr can't guarantee that, but I can.”

He got her.

“I'll listen to you.”

She became Eight. She died in a car accident, suicide as the media said. She drove directly into the Odra, from the golden bridge right into it. Big scandal for the media, as they found the big Polish billionaire's daughter dead – in fact they never found her body, only the car – after years of searching for her. Daddy was very concerned, he cried his eyes out during the funeral. From afar, she saw Piotr attending the funeral, along with some of her mafia's friends. Magda stood next to Piotr, holding his hand, while she sobbed with puffy eyes. Sasha's heart was ready to stop as she saw this girl crying for her, she would cry for her too if it was her funeral. But now, Sasha was dead. Eight was born.

“No shit, your dad's a fucking actor,” One commented, standing next to her in the snow.

Already January. Snow fell during Christmas Eve, the day she spent with Maga watching stupid Polish movies and drinking cheap wine from the shop around the corner. Her last Christmas. The bare trees carried now a large amount of snow on their branches, sometimes falling off. Anna liked snow, she would miss it in California. She would miss her country, she would miss the food, she would miss everything. She would miss her language. But she should be able to make it, for her mom right?

“My father's a fucking asshole who knows how to cover up his fucking deeds,” she replied. “I don't wanna see this masquerade or whatever, we should go.”

“Wow, the last time somebody told me that they wanted to go and not watch their own funeral was... Right now,” he admitted. “Even Two wanted to watch it until the end. But fine, we'll have plenty of time to discuss our next move with the Ghosts.”

“Let's go then. I hope you have nice cars in the US.”

He smiled, not answering. That was a yes.

She slept during half of the flight, they arrived around noon, time to sleep in Poland, still early in the morning. She rubbed her eyes, siting next to One in the pilot's cabin. The engine was still roaring as they landed safely on the yellowish sand. This was too early for any shit like this, she thought as she grabbed her sport bag in which all her belongings were stuffed. Some comfy clothes, the keys of the cars that died with her and a picture of her mom and her, hidden between all these matters. One forbid taking too personal stuff, he agreed for the keys though, but she needed her mother with her. Just to feel like home.

She instantly regretted putting on a sweater when she stepped outside the engine. She felt drops of sweat run on her back, she knew she was absolutely sweaty right now; the only thing that reassured her was that she put a tank top under all of this. Life saver. She followed One's steps in the sand, sleepy as hell, wishing for a bed and a shower just to function properly. They landed in the middle of abandoned planes, in the middle of nowhere, in a Californian desert. Great, she was dead and lost. Was it all worth it, she asked herself as she followed one into one of the planes with a large ghost imprinted on it.

There were the others, the five others. They didn't even flinch when she entered the room with One, doing what they had to do. She looked all around her, the atmosphere was oppressive because of the lack of lighting, some neon green lights escaped from the monitors some of them worked on, stale smell spread all around the “room”. One clapped and all their heads rose, all eyes on Sasha, Eight, now. They scrutinized her, and she scrutinized them as they all gathered around them. It was like a cult welcoming a new member. She got shivers down her spine, tightening her grip around her bag. A short brunette holding folders against her chest was now standing in front of them, next to her a black man with a gun in his hand; a cold blonde looked at them and slowly made her way up to them, next to a man sitting on a chair in front of a computer. And the last one,a  blond man with a hoodie jumped over the table to find himself near, standing now next to the brunette. Great picture, the Power Rangers, she thought.

“Please welcome Eight, our new driver,” One said the group as they all looked at her. “No hugs, no kisses, she's a Kubica, no paparazzi or whatever.”

“Kubica,” the blond man whispered, catching Sasha's attention before the man sitting stood up and interrupted him.

“Welcome Eight, I'm Three. Was a hitman, now I'm a good hitman,” he precised with a finger up as the blonde who was standing next to him rolled her eyes.

“Shut up”, she cut him off as he looked offended.

“Ay, mami why are you so nasty with me?”

“I'm Two, former French FBI agent,” she pursued ignoring the man's whining.

“Clear and precise,” Sasha commented under her breath, already amazed by the woman. “Nice to meet you.”

“Five, former doctor in a Mexican hospital,” the brunette said with a welcoming smile. “It will always be a pleasure to heal your wound. Hope you won't move as much as Two when I try to do my magic.”

“Shut up,” Two groaned.

“Seven, sniper,” the black man introduced himself after putting the gun on the table and coming to shake her hand. “Hope you drive smoothly so I can give head shots from the car window.”

“I'll try my best,” she shyly answered while knowing she could do it. She actually did it sometimes as Piotr's men were having a hard time.

“Four, skywalker,” the hooded man said looking at her with his green eyes. “If you wanna watch a movie or something like that, just hit me up,” he continued as he ran his hand through his hair after putting down his hoodie. His curly blond hair was all messy, was he trying to comb it with his fingers?

“Thanks,” Sasha replied with a little smile. “So, I'm Eight, mafia's driver.”

“Liar,” Three commented, “not with this pretty face of yours.”

“You'd be surprised,” One interrupted as he patted Three's shoulder. “That girl has exceptional skills.”

“Six had exceptional skills too,” Two remarked, arms crossed now. “Didn't prevent his death.”

“Will we wallow for a long time, mourn and stuff like this,” One asked while looking at her. “He died a hero, that's it. We all knew what the mission was about and accepted possible death. Period as millennials say.”

“Period,” Two asked. “That's not the women's thing?”

“Dot if you prefer,” Sasha could hear One's sigh as he answered, but Two wasn't convinced. “Whatever, Eight's our new driver and that's it.”

“He promised some nice cars,” Sasha tried to say, but only Five seemed to listen to her.

“He's a liar, we had a horrible car in Hong Kong, not practical at all,” the brunette told her, as she seemed to bite her lip.

“Not practical,” Three added almost yelling.

“Whose fault? Whose,” One reproached him. “Okay, now we're finished with our complaints, Five, take Eight to her trailer please, it's the one next to yours. And Eight, make yourself at home.”

[bbbarneswrites]

Small Places

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?  Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, mental health issues 3,809 words

Notes: Here we are with a new piece after all these months! The songs we got for this one are The Moon by The Swell Season and Cellar Door by Angus & Julia Stone. Hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback always welcomed! <3

The small studio stays right in the heart of Brooklyn, surrounded by themed bars, bright restaurants and a crowd of millennials that makes him cringe every once in a while.

It’s a shoebox.

A bed that fights for space with a small couch, a kitchen that can be sized by two of his steps alone and a cramped bathroom with a bathtub that he honestly can’t fit in. But be as it may, Bucky has never been in a more comfortable, warm and welcoming atmosphere.

A bed with polka-dotted, fluffy blankets, a couch with bright colored and quirky pillows, a kitchen with a line of gifted succulents by the counter and a bathroom with filled shelves of sweet smelling products.

Pictures on the walls, sketches and love notes hung to the fridge, shared clothes thrown over in little corners.

Everything is so lively and familiar—it feels like home outside of his home.

The four walls of your little studio have been witnesses to so much. Whispered love confessions, frantic murmurs of comfort, quiet pleads in between moans, anger filled little lies, and the list can only go on.

There’s a Friday night.

Discarded containers of take-out on the coffee table, and maybe a carton of Ben & Jerry’s forgotten around after a fight over the last spoon. Netflix midway through a random episode of Stranger Things because yeah, Bucky has a growing crush on Winona Ryder. Peace fills up every fiber of his being, and looking down to the sight before him, things can’t feel more right.

“Your heart is beating so fast.” You mumble quietly, chin leaning up to rest upon his chest. A flesh arm tightens around your frame, and a lazy grin grows on your lips. “Are you nervous being around me, Bucky?”

The lightness laced to your voice is familiar, a tone he’s heard many, many times within the warmth of a shared trustfulness.

A smile curls up his lips. Even then, the sound never fails to make Bucky content and happy.

“I’m always nervous around you, baby.” He jokes, a gentle kiss pressing to your temple that earns a happy hum from your chest. “You’re way out of my league.”

Bucky’s smile widens with a muffled whine of protest, and his vibranium hand reaches out to push a strand of hair away from your eyes when you shift on the way-too-small couch. With your face still buried to his chest, there’s no space left between both of you. The fluffy hem of your socks tickles his legs and the skin of his tummy rise up in shivers under your fingers.

Meanwhile, Erica Sinclair goes off about capitalism on TV.

Despite the length of your relationship, a small part of him still gets surprised over moments like this.

Soft fingertips reaching out to his marred left shoulder, a light touch to trace the harsh and old outlines of his scars, by now the only ugly looking, physical reminder of a time of his life that’s best left behind to be buried and forgotten.

With a little giggle escaping from your mouth, Bucky halts his thoughts to focus.

“You’re cute.” You wink playfully, biting your lower lip to hold back another laugh. His cheeks instantly flush a little under the fairy lights of your walls. “This little scar here looks like a stick figure.”

The touch feels nice as your index finger brush over a particular spot near his collarbone. Though he’s observed every single detail of the marks in several occasions, more than enough to make him very familiar with its designs, he immediately takes your hand with his own. Wrapped fingers together, you guide him through his little stick figure.

It’s a little joke, he knows, but Bucky still grins as you make him trace the funny lines of a quirky drawing to his own skin.

And when you tip his chin with your thumb a moment later? Warmth radiating from your body pressed up to his? And lips sweetly meeting his own?

That’s his peace.

There’s a Wednesday morning.

After arriving from a mission, sore muscles and half-healed scabs, Bucky just couldn’t see himself going back to the apartment he shares with Sam—especially after a two week long mission, taking in everything that his partner had to say. And trust, Sam Wilson has a lot of things to say.

To top of it all, he’s missed you.

Missed your laugh and your kisses and your touch. The way you tuck his hair behind his ears, the plush of your lips to the base of his neck. Your cuddles and your warmth and your care. Two long, painstaking slow weeks.

The place is warm as he steps in, slits of moonlight escaping through your blinds. Coming home to you feels right, takes off an edge from his heart, as if everything is right in the world again.

Only silence as Bucky slips under the blankets.

Bleary eyes barely taking him in.

And a happy but tired hum before a familiar frame cuddles to his side.

Sleep welcomes him right in.

Any person that lives in New York can easily list a series of upsides and downsides to coexisting in a studio apartment this small. An upsidde is that you can see and hear everything and the downside is that you can see and hear everything.

White numbers cover up your face on the screen of his phone as it marks 3:36AM. The shuffling and clashing in the kitchen isn’t unusual except for the late hour. Barely four hours of sleep later, and Bucky’s watching a pajama-clad you pour chocolate into a bowl through squinted, heavy eyes.

“Think I need to put you on a sleep schedule.” He murmurs. The sound is low but enough to make you jump on the spot, turn around with a scowl that makes him chuckle. “Come back to bed.”

The tense features of your face melt into a mix of worry and dejection.

“I can’t!” You cry, hands coming up to cover your face in frustration, words all muffled. “I promised I’d bake brownies for the book fair but I was so tired and I meant to take a nap while waiting for you but I just slept and now I woke you up!”

It takes two steps until Bucky has your frame into his arms, a perfect fit that rises butterflies in your stomach after the two, very long weeks. With vibranium fingertips brushing along your cheeks in a gentle caress, every negative feeling slips away.

“You were waiting for me?” Bucky pulls back a little, enough to see you pout through a nod. A loving smile grows easily to his mouth right before a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

Brownies are made in record time with two sets of wandering hands.

And are successfully sold out by two excellent sellers.

There’s a Monday afternoon.

Clouds are looming over the city. Cold, bitter winds singing loud enough outside. The first few signs of fall can be spotted by a quick walk in the neighborhood by now, trees turning into different shades of brown as pumpkin orange starts to pop everywhere.

Back to a few hours earlier, Bucky begrudgingly kisses you goodbye at the cramped doorstep, fixing your heart-shaped earmuffs with a wish of a good day at school. No paperwork or assignments under his name for a change, the place shelters him from any unexpected Avenger responsability, and he’s more than glad to wait home for you.

Separated dirty clothes, clean dishes back to the cupboards, made-up bed with fresh sheets, organized books and trinkets and papers for the small study table.

Homecoming isn’t as comforting.

Between quiet sniffles, red-rimmed teary eyes and angry huffs of frustration with the addition of a warm tea cup, Bucky cuddles you up to his lap until peace has settled again.

“You gonna tell me who I’m killing tonight?” He jokes half-heartedly, chest a little bit lighter as you giggle quietly, offering a slap to his arm. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

A single look from you and his heart swells with affection, the feelings hidden behind the simple act never failing to leave him speechless, wondering if there’s another shoe to drop.

There’s always another shoe to drop in his life.

“You don’t do that anymore, remember?” You say softly, a smart smile playing on your lips that’s followed by a tired, but now content sigh. “I’m okay, promise. Just a bad morning in school that wasn’t expected.”

Hands brought closer together and a kiss pressed to your knuckles by his lips.

Bad days take no excuse.

“Okay, doll.” Bucky frowns, eyes squinted in pretend suspicion as he smirks. “You really sure though? I can call Sam.”

“I’m sure, goober.” You roll your eyes through a laugh, instantly leaning closer until his lips are brushing to your own. “It’s all better now with you.”

Seventy years of a missed life, most of which he’s spent nearly under seven feet underground, locked up like an animal and abused for selfish power. Ruthless damage to every inch of his being, every sliver of hope taken from him without permission for decades. Now, eight years after a seeming never ending storm, Bucky finds reason in all of this.

It feels good to know that she’s with him too.

And if the day ends up to both of you curled up in the back booth of the diner down the street, ordering a late night breakfast with pancakes and eggs and bacon, then it’s a good day after all.

There’s a Thursday night.

The day has been slow in the apartment given your day-off from school. Silence and a few movies on Netflix are your companions, except for the visit of your friendly neighborhood stray cat, Alpine, who climbs up to your windowsill every day without fail. Bucky is usually the one who feeds him, and mostly the one who’s unofficially adopted the kitten.

A pause here for a quick, improvised meal between homework, another pause there for a bath under glittery bath bombs.

Being away from him is normal.

His missions can last to mere hours to unexpected months. Living within the job is basically the norm, all with recruits training, team meetings and securing duties. Your classes are demanding, both physically and mentally. It never ends and never leaves you, always something to be started or done back home.

Either way, anxiousness never leaves you in a week like this.

Nearing a certain date on the calendar, Bucky’s plagued by restless nights.

It feels like a sore spot in his body, one he knows all about it but still can’t help but be upset at, poking and prodding around as a way to remember it. Despite knowing his best-friend way too well, Steve’s choice wasn’t one taken lightly back then.

The reasoning is fair and understandable but it doesn’t lessen the bitterness of a brief meeting after a six year long disappearance.

Not much can be done by now, but two years after Steve’s official death, Bucky still plays what ifs in his head. 

After gentle coaxing in between kisses in the night before and encouraging hugs and squeezes in the morning after, Bucky spends the whole day back at the compound, a scheduled therapy session set to the calendar of his phone.

When sunlight falls to a sheet of night stars, familiar but heavy steps sound like music to your  ears.

A random song playing through your laptop and slow beats welcome Bucky home.

It takes a single look at you until he’s sighing relieved, hauling your frame up to his arms in the middle of the small kitchen, where you both barely fit in during busy mornings with shoulder bumps and mumbled but playful complaints.

Sure it has been a pretty nostalgic day but nothing beats being right there.

“You smell good.” Bucky says, an almost shy mumble against your hair, his arms gently tightening around you. “Peach?”

The easy but definitely familiar guess makes you smile instantly. Heat rises on your cheeks, your chin rests on his chest as your eyes look for his own, very blue, very alive compared to a few hours back. Golden detailed fingertips brush your cheeks and a content hum escapes from your lips instantly.

“That bathbomb you gave me, remember?” You smile, voice sounding small and equally as shy until Bucky tips down, his lips meeting your own in a featherlike kiss that makes you sigh. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky smiles, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes and then, the smooth sway starts. Finding rhythm with the slow beats still playing background, you can’t help but feel your chest lighter. In that moment, neither of you need to share words to know, he doesn’t need to tell you about his session for the feelings to sink.

Despite any doubt and above any insecurity, being right there feels just right.

It’s not his day and age. For a long time, he was nothing but a misplaced piece of the universe. Then without his best-friend, just an unknown face for the team to swallow.

Not anymore.

There was a time of misplacement and sure, he no longer has Steve on a back-up call but life has given him good things. Good people. Sam and Wanda. Love. You. And in that moment, after a long day of reflection, Bucky just feels thankful above any odd feeling.

“Feelin’ great.” He muses. It’s genuine and it makes your smile widen upon his accent slip, only cut short by Bucky’s lips briefly meeting yours again. “Thank you.”

Background music switching to an upbeat song and the shared slow, careful sway doesn’t change.

“What for?” You frown, wide eyes flicking between confusion and amusement through a quiet, huffed laugh. A beat until you look up through your eyelashes, and a sheepish shrug. “I haven’t done anything.”

Bucky bites back the reply—you’ve done everything and more, you’re everything—words for another time, other plans, a day with a better start. After all, he’s not going anywhere.

This is his place now.

And in the end of the day, that’s all it matters.

There’s a Saturday afternoon.

An array of long dresses and skirts mix-up with button-ups and printed ties on the bed, make-up and skin products all over the cabinet. The sun slowly lies down to a soft hue of orange that paints the bedroom space, and the off-beat singing coming from the bathroom makes you smile every now and then.

A coat of lipstick to the lips, mascara to the eyelashes. A well-placed hair pin to the side of your hair. Out of the bathroom Bucky gets, black suit and tie in place, not a wrinkle on sight to the white button-up shirt. The singing turns to a faint humming.

Short hair, trimmed beard. His blue eyes are alight. Positively beaming.

It’s just a few hours to go until the big event starts—Mr. and Mrs. Wilson anniversary, which they’re celebrating with one big ceremony to renew their vows with their children present. Bucky, much to Sam’s feigned dismay and Darlene Wilson’s stubborness, is now considered one of them.

In the very few opportunities you got to meet Darlene, she was nothing short of sweet to you and incredibly motherly to your boyfriend. Not much is needed to see how happy Bucky is to be participating in their day, and you can’t help but beam right back at him.

“Looking so handsome!” You grin, watching through the mirror as Bucky sits on the bed, shiny black shoes set on the floor. His lips are holding back a smirk. “I mean it, Bucky! This hair? I’m marrying you.”

At the words, Bucky looks up.

Between the Blip, his missions, your classes and whatnot, neither of you ever discussed the possibilities of a long-term future.

Have you both thought about it, though? Absolutely.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Bucky sighs. Quickly settling into his shoes, a crooked smile curves up his mouth as he stands up, gentle fingers around your satin clad waist. “You’re so beautiful. I’m a lucky bastard, aren’t I?”

It feels like your brain instantly turns to mush over his words, and your tongue stumbles to find proper words to reply his sudden sweet outburst. Heat spreads through your neck and cheeks as you lean back against his chest, feeling Bucky’s arms wrap you completely with such warmth like home is supposed to feel.

Watching your reflections through the mirror, you can’t help but think how comforting the situation is, even if it can look silly to anybody else. How comforting is to see you with him, the changes, the little quirks that remain the same after a straight up mess.

How funny is it that you want to turn your little comment into reality?

How funny is it that Bucky wants that moment of certainty to freeze?

“You’ve got to help me with something.” You break the silence, smiling shyly before reaching out to the small jewelry box sitting on your make-up cabinet. A silver necklace with a studded little star is pulled out. “Please?”

Smart fingers wrap the necklace around your neck with ease, the touch of vibranium rising shivers to your skin as Bucky closes it with a little kiss pressed between your shoulder blades.

There’s that little moment of silence again until a sigh escapes from his lips, a beat of hesitancy rushing through his body before he’s fishing for the black box in his pocket. A box he’s been carrying for way too long now, just waiting for its buyer to build up the damn courage because that’s all it takes.

I mean it, Bucky! I’m marrying you.

“I’ve got something else for you to wear tonight.” Bucky says. Heart pounding violently through his chest, so much he thinks you might hear it, but voice sounding as light as ever under your curious eyes. “I—I’ve had it for a long time now. And I know it might not be the perfect moment but you just said you’d marry me.”

Turning around to face him, your mouth immediately falls open. Chest to chest, your eyes searching for his. And ss Bucky lifts the little velvet box and flips it open so, so easily with his metal thumb, your choked, disbelieved laugh fills the room.

The ring is beautiful.

No fancy stones, just a simple, silver band formed to wrap around a finger with its two ends meeting together on the top.

Both of you kept meeting each other over and over through accords, battles and sudden disappearances.

It’s meaningful enough to make your heart beat faster.

“You can’t be serious. Are you?” You ask dumbly, a silly smile soon growing on your lips as Bucky gives a playful glare. “You are. Holy shit, Bucky!”

“You aren’t sayin’ yes, baby doll.” Bucky jokes, starting to feel jittery with nerves despite a small grin. Under the anxiety and accent slip, he’s just loving to see how positively astonished you look. “I’m sweating under this suit and it won’t be good for—”

Red lips crash upon his in a rush, your fingers fisting the lapels of his suit so hard that Bucky almost stumbles on his feet, making him pull your body flush against his own. He’s sure your fingers are wrinkling his jacket just as much as his metal ones are wrinkling the delicate fabric of your dress. And your make-up, thank God, you’re wearing the smudge-proof lipstick.

There’s no time to breathe between quick, several pecks and a gasped but definitely excited reply.

“I am saying yes!”

There’s another Satuday afternoon.

A pair of booted feet walks through the tight hallway of the shoebox apartment, laughter completely filling the place as a pair of heeled feet bumps the wall in a funny noise.

The white sandals are a perfect match for the white mini dress, its hem flowing over very familiar thighs, showing a little too much because the position—or general space really, isn’t the best. Turns out that despite your skepticism, Bucky can carry you in bridal style through the cramped space. Even though, you can easily spot a stain in the back of his blazer because of a knocked vase. 

It doesn’t really matter.

As Bucky puts you down, your heels are kicked off and you immediately reach out to the memory board on the wall, pinning up a marriage certificate like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

When you turn around, Bucky is sitting by the edge of the bed just like one week ago, but now sans apprehension of an insecure man.

“We’re married!”

The gleeful tone of your words make him smile right away, pulling you closer with a gentle tug until you’re standing between his legs. Towering over him, your hands cup both of Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over the sharp, stubbly cheekbones. Your heart swells in your chest, happiness and love and calmness, because everything about the day really had been simple.

A city hall wedding with Sam, Wanda and Sam’s parents as witnesses, exactly a week after their own second wedding. Very simple and easy, as the decision of marrying each other had been.

“You’re officially a Barnes.” Bucky grins, hands brushing down the back of your thighs. Gentle fingertips under the hem of your dress, he silently urges you to sit on his lap. “Told ya, got me in trouble.”

“You say that as if you didn’t want to marry me.” You scoff playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck as settling down over him. “You can’t fool me. I totally noticed you were nervous back there.”

Not bothering to deny your words, Bucky shrugs. Even though he was nervous, it doesn’t really matter. Wrapped up in each other, surrounded by the quietness of the apartment, all he cares about is you.

A little kiss pressed to your neck.

“Well, you’d be nervous too if you were marryin’ the prettiest girl in the world.”

A laugh and a little kiss pressed to his nose.

“Well, I was nervous marrying the prettiest boy in the world.”

And then—Bucky’s lips are meeting yours in a soft kiss that swallows a sigh, hands steady and gentle around your waist as he dips down to the bed under your body. It feels like you’re both back at the ceremony again, high on your love and completely unaware of everything that isn’t each other. And he kisses you once, twice, three, four times.

Just enough to ground him, to remind him that this is what his life came to.

Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?

Yeah, well. This little shoebox apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

This might be just it.

[ofendlesswonder]

#50 for the prompt thing. Supercat please ♥️

50. “People are staring.”

Kara isn’t exactly hoping to run into Cat when she’s summoned to Washington D.C. for a missiondebrief, but when she spots her as she’s leaving the Oval Office, she can’t exactly say that she’s disappointed.

Cat looks as amazing as ever, dressed in a pair of dark pants and a white blouse, a black blazer thrown over the top and her hair perfectly curled, striding down the hallway like she owns the place and, Karacan’t help but wonder, as she watches her approach, if one day she will – she wouldn’t be surprised if Cat was planning on announcing a presidential bid,come the next election.

“Supergirl.” Cat doesn’t look surprised to see her asshe pauses in-front of her, hands slipping into her pant pockets as she tilts her head up to meet Kara’s gaze. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you, Ms Grant.” It feels like an eternity sincethey’d last seen on another in person (Kara tunes in to the White House press briefings, sometimes, because Cat’s running commentary is always anentertaining one), but the years fade away into an easy sort of familiarity that only working so closely together for so many years can bring. “How haveyou been?”

“Oh, you know.” Cat lifts one shoulder in a delicateshrug. “Always busy putting out the next fire. Though I’m sure you can relate.”

Kara hasn’t exactly been short of those, lately, andshe’s sure that her wish for a quieter 2020 won’t be granted.

“Ms Grant,” a woman appears at Cat’s shoulder, atablet in her hands, “here are the last minute changes you asked for.”

Cat’s new assistant, then, and Kara can’t help butsize her up as Cat scans over the words on the tablet screen. She’s a similar age to Kara, and she wonders, hiding a smile, if she’d changed Cat’s opinion onmillennials. She looks nervous as she waits for Cat’s response, and Kara wonders how much the poor girl has already been yelled at today, or if Cat hasgrown mellow since she’d left CatCo for pastures anew.

“Good.” Cat’s voice is brusque as she hands the tablet back to the woman. “Tell them I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Yes, Ms Grant.” The woman scurries away withoutanother word, and Cat sighs as she watches her go.

“Good help is so hard to find,” she mutters, eyes onher retreating assistant’s back, and when she turns back to Kara there’s the hint of a knowing smirk on her lips that Kara pretends not to notice.

(Even though the last time she’d seen Cat, the ‘go get them, Supergirl’ had been perfectly audible).

“I should let you get to your briefing,” Kara decides,because as much as she’d like to spend the rest of her day with Cat, she knows the other woman probably has a busy schedule ahead of her.

“If you have an hour or so to spare,” Cat seemsreluctant to let her go so easily, “you could wait in my office for me? It’d be nice to have a drink. Catch up.”

“I… okay.” She’s surprised by the invitation, but shecan’t bring herself to turn it down, not when seeing Cat again has been like a breath of fresh air – she’d pushed all thoughts of her former boss down deep(and even deeper still when she’d sold the company, because that, as irrational as she knew it was, stung like a betrayal) when she’d left, and she’d almostforgotten how much she enjoyed spending time with the other woman.

When she wasn’t being yelled at, anyway.

“It’s this way.”

Kara falls into step beside Cat as she sets off down the hall at what can only be described as a march, Kara struggling to keep up even with her longer legs. The halls are bustling with people, who fall silent asthey pass them by, curious eyes watching them go, and Kara shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their gaze.

“Something wrong, Supergirl?” Cat asks, as she pauses beside a heavy wooden door, the plaque beside it indicating that this is Cat’s office,and when Kara glances through the open doorway, she finds quite a different space from the one she’d occupied at CatCo, but one that is distinctly CatGrant, all the same.

“I… yeah, it’s just… people are staring.” Kara glances over her shoulder as she says it, and the huddle of people opposite them quickly look away.

“Because it’s not every day that Supergirl walks down these halls,” Cat replies, ushering Kara inside the room and pulling the door shut behind them.

“But… the President walks these halls every day.” Surely the person wielding the most power should garner the most attention. Political power, anyway – Kara’s pretty sure she could beat the President in a fist fight even without her powers.

“Yes, well, people do tend to expect that to happen in the White House.” Cat looks amused as she grabs something from her desk. “Superheroes, on the other hand, are a bit harder to come by.”

Kara supposes that she’s right, but that doesn’t really set her more at ease, and she’s glad she’s now hidden from view.

 “I really should get going – feel free to make yourself at home,” Cat says, heading towards the door, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

She shuts the door behind her, and silence echoes around her as she glances around the room. There’s a screen behind Cat’s desk, an echo of her wall of screens from CatCo, muted but showing the podium that she knows Cat will take her place behind shortly. The desk is cluttered, like Kara remembers, and she smiles as she catches a glimpse of a framed photograph of Cat and Carter, her son now towering over her, his blonde curls unruly as he grins atthe camera.

The view out of the windows is much less impressive than Kara is used to, looking out into the White House grounds rather than the city skyline, so Kara settles for watching Cat’s press conference, instead, easing herself down into one of the chairs behind Cat’s desk, and resisting the urge to kick her boots onto the top of it.

The sound of the door opening startles her, and Kara whirls around to find the girl from before frozen in the doorway, blinking at Kara with stunned surprise.

“Oh, sorry.” Kara jumps to her feet and throws a reassuring smile her way. “Cat said I could wait for her in here.”

“T-that’s okay, Ms Supergirl.”

“Just Supergirl is fine, thank you.” The girl could barely look her in the eye, and Kara wonders how someone so meek could survive as Cat’s assistant – but then, people had probably thought the same thing about her, when she’d started. “You work for Cat?”

“I’m her assistant.” She runs a nervous hand through her hair before inching further into the room and dropping down behind the other, smaller desk in the room, and Kara wonders how well she would have fared, sharing an office with Cat. “Sophie.” She holds her hand out towards Kara, and she takes it, shaking it firmly. “Could I… would it be alright if I asked foryour autograph? My little sister loves you, it would literally make her year.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” It’s been years, but she still isn’t used to this side of her job, and doesn’t think she ever will be. “What’s your sister’s name?” Kara asks, as Sophie scrambles for a pen and a pad of paper.

“Emily.”

Kara scribbles a quick message before signing her name, and she’s handing it back to Sophie when the door is pushed open, Cat striding through a moment later – Sophie jumps at the sound, and Cat pauses when she sees Kara hand back the pen.

“Sophia,” Cat begins, and Kara tries not to smile, because it’s nice to know that some things never get old, “are you harassing my guest?”

“N-no, Ms Grant.”

“Oh?” Cat arches an eyebrow, arms folding across her chest. “Then what’s that in your hand, hm? Because it looks suspiciously like anautograph.”

“It’s fine,” Kara interrupts, because Sophie looks like she might be about to cry. “Honestly.”

“Hm.” Cat purses her lips, but she doesn’t press. “Here.” Instead, she reaches into her pocket before brandishing a twenty dollar bill at her assistant. “Take this, and go and buy yourself something nice for lunch.”

“Ms Grant?” Sophie looks highly confused, and Kara bites her lip so she doesn’t chuckle at the look on her face.

“Are you deaf, Sophia?” Cat sounds exasperated, a tone that Kara is more than familiar with. “Go, before I change my mind. Oh,” Cat calls out when Sophie is almost through the door, “and bring me back a latte, please.”

“Yes, Ms Grant.” She scurries away, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone, and Kara takes the opportunity to sink back down into the chair she’d been sitting in before.

“You always this hard on your assistants?” Kara asks, lips twitching as Cat leans back against her desk and kicks off her heels, as she’s been known to do after she’s been on her feet for too long.

“Only when they deserve it,” Cat answers smartly, and Kara grins. “So, Supergirl – how are things?”

“Busy,” Kara sighs, glad that J’onn and Alex have assured her that National City will be safe during her absence, meaning that she doesn’t have to rush back. “If everyone could just stop being evil for aminute, that would be really, really nice.”

“Have you tried asking the criminals nicely?” Cat snipes, and Kara had forgotten how much she enjoyed this, the easy way that Cat spoke to her when she was shrouded in the cape.

“No, but maybe I’ll try that next time.”

“See that you do.” There’s a soft smile on Cat’s lips, atwinkle in her eyes, and Kara wonders if she’s missed this as much as she has. “And how is CatCo?” Cat’s gaze turns challenging, then, a single eyebrowraising upwards, and Kara swallows.

“Ms Grant?”

“Are we still playing this silly game?” Cat sighs, liftingherself onto her desk in one easy movement, eyes never leaving Kara’s face. “After all this time?”

“I…” Kara trails off, worrying at her bottom lip, and she knows that Cat already knows, that she isn’t going to do anything untoward with her identity (because she’s had more than enough chances, over the years), and surely it shouldn’t be this difficult to admit it, when there are no consequences? “CatCo is fine,” Kara manages to force out, eventually, and Cat’s eyes flicker with interest. “Different, since you left. There have been a lot of changes.”

“For better or for worse?” Cat asks, and she almost looks like she’s afraid of finding out the answer.

“Definitely worse,” Kara murmurs, her voice soft. “It hasn’t been the same since you left.” She can scarcely remember what things were like, with Cat at the helm, it’s been so long, but she knows that it was definitely more interesting with Cat prowling the halls. “Do you miss it?”

“Every day,” Cat sighs, her voice sad. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do now, but… it’s just not the same.”

“You could come back,” Kara offers, but Cat gave a slow shake of her head.

“No, I couldn’t. Selling it saw to that.”

“Why did you sell it?” She has to ask, because it’s bothered her ever since she found out.

“So I wouldn’t give in to the temptation to come back,” Cat explains, fingers tapping against thesurface of her desk. “It would be a step backwards, and, much as I might miss it, there were reasons why I left, and none of those have changed.”

“Like?”

Cat purses her lips for one long moment, her eyes locked on Kara’s, an unreadable expression on her face. “I told you – I wanted a change.”

“Is that all?” Kara has to press, because she’s sure that hadn’t been what Cat was planning to say. “You said reasons. Plural.”

“So I did,” Cat replies, a note of finality in her voice,and Kara decides that’s the most she’s getting out of Cat on that particular subject.

“How’s Carter?” Kara asks, instead, watching as Cat’s lips twitch into a fond smile.

“He’s wonderful,” she answers, that light in her eyes that she gets whenever she thinks about her son. “It took him a little while to come around to the idea of moving out here, but he’s flourishing in his new school.”

“That’s good. He must be what, almost sixteen, now?”

“Next month, yes.” Cat looks touched that she’d remembered. “He’s all grown up – he even has a girlfriend.”

“And you?” Kara finds herself asking, even though she’s positive she doesn’t want to know the answer – her feelings for Cat had faded over time, but that doesn’t mean that she wants to hear about her falling in love with someone else.

“Forever single,” Cat answers, curtly. “I learned a long time ago that I don’t need to go home to someone else at night. Besides, I was never exactly very lucky in love.”

“Maybe you just hadn’t found the right person,” Karamurmurs, and Cat’s smile is soft.

“Or maybe I let them slip away,” she replies, and Kararaises a curious eyebrow, but Cat just shakes her head. “What about you, Supergirl? Got a guy waiting for you at home?”

“I haven’t exactly been very lucky in love, myself.” Her relationship with Mon-El has been her one and only, and it hadn’t exactly been easy for her to recover from him leaving. She’s had offers, since, but she’s yet to meet anyone that really sets her alight, makes her feel alive, even though she desperately wants that happiness that she’s seen her sister have,first with Maggie and now with Kelly. “And I’m not the safest person to be with,” she shrugs. “Maybe I’ll be forever single, too. We can start a club – spinsters only.”

“Watch it,” Cat cautions, but there’s a smile on her face.

“What, you don’t want to be in a club with me?” Karapretends to be offended. “How rude.”

“We’re already in a club,” Cat fires back, “of ‘mostpowerful women in the United States’. I may no longer be the queen of all media, but I still hold some sway.”

“How can you not, working in this place?” Kara gestures to the space around them. “Although the view is slightly less impressive.”

“Yes, well, some sacrifices did have to be made.” Cat looks out of her window more than a little wistfully. “Although, I - ”

The ringing of Kara’s phone interrupts whatever Cat had been about to say next, and Kara throws her an apologetic look as she pulls it out of the hidden compartment in her suit. “Sorry, but I have to take this,” she murmurs, when she sees Alex’s name on the screen. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Uh, not really,” Alex answers, and Kara hears the sound of something explode in the background, justas the screen behind Cat’s head flickers to life on a news story – Kara recognises the city skyline immediately and jumps to her feet. “We have a situation.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The monster fills half the screen, enormous in size, and Kara isn’t surprised that Alex had called. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Go,” Cat tells her, eyes wide as she takes in thedestruction being wrought in her former home. “Be a hero. And don’t be scared to come by again – perhaps the spinster club could start having monthlymeetings.”

“You got it,” Kara chuckles, and she surprises Cat bypulling her into a quick hug, allowing herself a few precious seconds to breathe the other woman in, to remember the feeling of her, warm and soft anddainty in Kara’s arms. “I don’t suppose that window opens?” She asks, when she steps back, and it takes Cat a moment to blink away the dazed look in her eyes.

“Ah, no. Security hazard.”

“Of course.” Kara turns toward the doorway, pausing before she speeds away. “Goodbye, Cat.”

“I’ll see you soon, Supergirl.”

She shoots Cat one last smile before darting down the hall, launching herself into the air as soon as she’s cleared the building and hurtling back towards National City, vowing, as she turns to take one last look at the White House before it disappears on the horizon, that she’ll make a return trip sooner rather than later.