#i applied to office places and shit like that that she would approve of but guess what!

[brainrotdotorg]

oh today is just going to be a problem huh.

[kthyg]

ghoul. — (training) (m)

[SECOND INSTALMENT OF GHOUL SERIES : TRAINING]

“I like it when you’re under me. The only place you will ever be is under me.”

or

Jimin and Jungkook decided they wanted to have an unplanned training session with you.

pairing : yandere jikook x reader

rating : M

genre : tokyo ghoul au, soulmate au, violence 

disclaimer : this story is a work of fiction. descriptions of the BTS members in this story does not reflect nor portray them in real life. everything in this story only fits in imagination and does not apply outside of imagination.

warning : infliction of pain on woman (oc).

word count : 3.2k+

masterpost  |  masterlist   |  navigation

note from winter 💌 :

PLS IM WRITING THIS AS WE SPEAK: I WAS ABOUT TO MAKE JUNGKOOK LOOK DOWN ON MINGYU BUT THEN JUNGKOOK IS SHORTER THAN GYU IM SOBBVINF SO HARDDD so i decided to change the scene HAHAHAAHAHHAHAA

ok real note 📝

maybe i like jimin being rough. haha like

LIKE BRO HE CANT BE ALL SOFT HE HAS GOT TO LIKE TO INFLICT PAIN AND I WOULD GLADLY RECEIVE

💌 what is winter listening to? : 28 reasons by seulgi

dedication : to my sleep demon, you can fuck off now. ive written your shit down.

           Another day at KCCG, Korea Commission of Counter Ghoul, the second branch of CCG that originated from Japan. An everyday reminder when Jimin stepped into the KCCG building. The logos of CCG and KCCG were designated next to each other looking very alike except that KCCG has an additional letter ‘K’ before the CCG. The emblems were blueish black in colour and an animal akin to a bird spreading its wings was embedded at the centre of the emblem respectively, and a few deep curves and details to make it look elegant.

           “Jimin hyung.” A voice called.

           He turned to the voice. “Jungkook.” His soulmate.

           “Why the hard face?”

           “The only thing that is hard right now is my dick, so if you don’t have any plans to help soften it down, then I suggest you go back to your office before I fuck you right here.”

            “Vulgar,” the younger hissed. “I’m your superior. How dare you speak to me that way.”

            “An inferior in bed,” Jimin mumbled nonchalantly.

            “I’ll give away your mission in 1st ward to Investigator Rosè,” Jungkook retorted.

            “I needn’t worry because she’s not fit for the mission, and you need Joon’s approval for that. 1st ward has always been assigned to me.” He said calmly.

            “Namjoon hyung gives me green light for everything, so–”

            “Gyu.” Your voice interrupted their conversation. It wasn’t too loud but given that their sense of hearing was very acute, even your softest voice could reach their ears.

            You entered the building and with delighted steps, you skipped your way towards Kim Mingyu, Ghoul Investigator of Special Class. Jimin’s gaze followed your figure until you reached the male investigator. Jungkook didn’t miss the hard gaze but instead of asking what was wrong with Jimin, he found himself staring hard at your figure too or the situation.

        ��   Since when were you close with Mingyu?

            “Good morning, lotus.” Mingyu greeted you with a soft, subtle kiss on the crown of your head.

            “Morning,” you smiled, handing over a coffee to him. “Where’s Minghao?”

            “Late as usual,” he sighed before taking a sip of the coffee, thanking you after. “Overslept maybe.”

            “It’s fine, we can wait.” Sipping a bit of your coffee, you fished out a small device from your pocket. The device was a sphere in shape and floating. You let it float in the air as pressed the button on the device.

            “You got a new SfereX?” Mingyu asked.

            “Yes. The old one was destroyed during the mission at the 2nd ward.” You sighed.

            As soon as you pressed the button, a hologram flashed in front of you. The technology inside the device resembled a laptop or tablet but an even more compact version. As the system loaded you to your home page, you pressed the reminder calendar.

            “Today we have a training session with Minghao…” You spread your fingers as the hologram zoomed onto the details of the session. “Focusing on hand-to-hand combat.”

            Mingyu nodded. “He needs that very much.”

            You slapped his shoulder lightly. “Give him a little credit. He’s not that bad. He’s just so used to the use of weapons.”

            Mingyu was about to speak up but as his eyes narrowed a bit over your shoulder, he noticed two figures approaching.

            Two figures that, if possible, he always wanted to avoid.

            “Ah, good morning, Director Jeon, Investigator Park.”

            That caught you off guard.

            Upon hearing your childhood friend’s name, your body went rigid, and your mind flew back to when you discovered that half of your files in the star folder were gone after you returned from Investigator Min’s office. You don’t have proof that it was Jimin that deleted your files. Of course, you could walk into the security room and check the CCTVs, but you went against that idea because as much as you wanted to fight for your justice, you knew Jimin would do anything and everything to deny your claim.

            Quickly turning around, you bowed. “Good morning.”

Jimin zeroed his attention on you as he spoke. “Training session with me and Investigator Jeon at combat room 2. In 5 minutes.”

            “But I have–”

            “Are you defying your superior, (Y/N)?”

            Your eyes flickered at the sudden use of authority. “No, that’s not it…”

            Mingyu saw the hesitation in your eyes as you struggled to find the right word. Maybe it was due to the difference in rank and the intimidation Jimin held because you were not one to hesitate. “Park, she has a scheduled training session with me.” He emphasised the word ‘scheduled’. “Please be considerate and respectful of others’ time.”

            “Investigator Kim,” Jimin turned his body to fully face him. His face was devoid of emotions. “Before anything, (Y/N) is under me. Whatever changes made are effective immediately regardless of your opinion.”

            “It doesn’t change the fact that you are disturbing my line of work by messing up my schedule, Investigator Park.” Mingyu refused to back away.

            “That’s enough.” Jungkook finally voiced out.

            He has been standing next to Jimin all while his gaze was on you. Breaking his intense gaze, he continued. “I instigated the training session. I believe you won’t have any problem with me doing so, right, Investigator Kim?”

            A muscle in his jaw twitched. “If you’re trying to use your rank and force me to submission, I’d suggest you stop, Director Jeon.”

            “Kim Mingyu.” You could see Jimin’s jaw tightened as soon as he let out the stern call.

            You really didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s morning especially yours. “Gyu, it’s fine. We can reschedule.” You told him.

            “It’s not fine. This doesn’t only affect me,” His eyes that were on the two guys in front of him were now on you. A wave of pity – or maybe concern – was seen. “But it also affects you.”

            You knew what his next sentence would be.

            “(Y/N), how–” How long are you going to tolerate being stepped on by these bunch of fucked up higher-ups?

            And you didn’t have it in you to respond to that question yet.

            “The training will take 2 hours at most. I’ll be available by noon and you’re free at that hour too.” You pinched the hologram after checking the reminder calendar and clicked the button to switch off the device.

            “Moreover, your student has yet to arrive, no?” Jungkook directed his question to Mingyu. “Technically, I can take up (Y/N)’s schedule at this very moment because her scheduled training appears to be delayed. It gives literally anyone the right to take it up.”

            Jungkook raised a hand to cover his lips albeit not fully, he let Mingyu see the condescending smirk through the gaps between his fingers. “Teach your student to respect other people’s time before teaching us. That’s very hypocrite of you.”

            He didn’t wait for Mingyu to even breathe another word as he turned on his heels and made his way to the assigned combat room.

            “Let’s go.” Jimin called on you.

            Keeping your head low, you responded. “Yes, Investigator Park.”

           You entered the combat room after having your clothes changed. It seemed like you blended in quite well with the room. Your combat attire was white overall as well as the room, both wall and floor. The combat room is empty but not fully empty as there were flower beds. White flowers. You have no idea why it was the way it was.

           As you made your way to a bench, you unwrapped the bandage you had brought over from your locker in the changing room to wrap your hands. The clicking sounds of a door closing reached your ears. Jungkook stepped into the combat room. Spotting you on the bench, he smiled as he approached you.

            “Quite a scene just now, don’t you think, (Y/N)?” He sat next to you, mirroring your action with a bandage of his own. “A bit too early to my taste, I’d say. But very refreshing.”

           Of course, it’s refreshing for you.

           You practically wrecked your brain trying to find the appropriate answer to give out in response. Giving up, you could only muster up a tight smile and continued bandaging your hands. You subtly glanced at his hands as he finished wrapping up his hand.

            Well, that’s quick.

            After glancing for a bit too long, you noticed his bandage matched his outfit. Black. You looked at your unfinished wrapping.

            White.

            Just as you were about to resume your wrapping, Jungkook’s hands came into the frame. He gently pulled your hand so that it was closer to him and easier for him to wrap up for you.

            “Uh, I can…” You pulled your hand away slowly. “Do it myself.”

            He seemed to frown upon your action as he pulled your hand back to him and resumed. “I know.”

            Jungkook sure was efficient and quick in his action. He finished wrapping up your both hands in under one minute. All while holding your hand as if you would break if he put even the littlest pressure. You had the time to study his face.

            There were significant features of his that remained the same or maybe matured a bit, but it didn’t stop you from going back to the old days you shared with Jungkook. Back then when you were first brought to the headquarter of the Jeon clan, you knew of no one. Not even the person that brought you there. At that time, Jungkook was the only child you saw. If only calling him a child was right. Given that he acted and behaved nothing like a child.

            Face hard, back straight, and hands balled into fists on both his lap.

            And quiet.

            You had not heard his voice until your third week there.

            “That brings back memory, huh?” Jungkook tilted his head as he stared at you. “Your eyes are showing a hint of nostalgia.”

            The closed proximity and intense staring.

            The mysterious coffee eyes. His eyes were still as dark and deep as you first saw. Unlike you, Jungkook's eyes were unreadable. As if his eyes were disconnected from the brain and lived on their own.

            He was defective.

            But you learned to understand Jungkook by studying his body language instead. That, too, wasn’t as easy. Jungkook mastered the art of concealment. He hated being vulnerable.

            Or he forced himself to hate vulnerability.

            The Kishou and Jeon have something in common.

            Their ruthlessness was known to the world.

            Growing up as a Jeon meant survival. Only the best made it until the end. Jungkook was a direct descendant of the Jeon clan and the future that soon would lead and continue the Jeon clan. He was trained to be the best. As for an indirect descendant like you, your training was much more lenient given the fact that you were a Kishou.

            Jungkook was trained mentally, spiritually, and physically. Trained to be zero.

            Zero weakness.

            But after the death of the Jeon clan's former leader, you could see Jungkook finally breathed.

            You turned away to break eye contact. “Yeah…”

            He hummed before he brought one of your hands to his lips, kissing your bandaged knuckles. “It’s not a good thing, sweetheart.”

            You stared at him in shock.

            “You’re a Jeon.” All said with a smile and gentle thumb brushing.

            I’m a Kishou.

            Kishou.

            Another sound of the door clicking open resonated around the room, making you immediately pull back your hand. Jimin walked into the room with graceful steps. He was wearing the same combat attire as Jungkook. Black. Your hands were itching to grab your SfereX and snap a picture of Jimin really quick.

            Jimin was ethereal. You would never be tired of telling that to yourself.

            In terms of physique, Jimin’s build is lean with enough muscle in the right place. The difference in body proportion between Jimin and Jungkook was visibly huge, but their strength was at the same level. Maybe even a level greater than Jungkook.

           “We’ll do hand-to-hand combat today.” Jimin announced.

           “Sounds fun to me.” Jungkook grinned.

           “Let’s start with one on one before the other joins in for 2 against 1, shall we?” Jimin suggested.

           You agreed pliantly with a soft yes.

           Even if you had disagreed as if Jimin would listen to you.

           “One on one with me, (Y/N),” he declared as he strode to the centre of the room. “Are you ready?”

            The only word you’ve said for the past few minutes. Yes.

            Still having the gentleman in him, Jimin urged you to do the first take before he pitched in. The two of you got into position with hands up into fists just above chin height and feet opened shoulder width apart.

            Jungkook’s remark heralded the start of the fight. “Start.”

            You didn’t start with your fist instead your knee found its way to kick Jimin’s face. But of course, it took more than a simple movement to injure The Park Jimin. He easily dodged your attack. In return, Jimin charged with his fist, targeting your face which you managed to avoid.

            The attack and defence continued until Jungkook announced his presence in the fight. You were against two of your superiors. Two of them hated losing. You didn’t dare to make any first move as soon as Jungkook joined in, so instead, you waited for them to charge any attack.

            Jungkook seemed to see right through you as he advanced first. He fired a punch but instead of dodging it, you blocked it. His firing was too quick that you didn’t have the time to avoid it.

            But it was a grave mistake.

            Jungkook smirked before he continued firing punches to your defence. It was only a matter of time before one of his punches would reach your face. He cornered you to the wall at each punch. You took the opportunity to use the wall to send Jungkook flying back with your feet pushing on his chest and your back on the wall as support.

            You didn’t realise how small your intake of oxygen was until you found yourself gasping for air after throwing Jungkook off. It happened all too fast, but you were sent flying to the other corner of the room.

            By Jimin.

            “Don’t let your guard down, (Y/N).” Jimin reprimanded.

            You were quick to get back on your two feet. “I wasn’t–”

            Had you not focused on your left, you would’ve been crushed. You made a beeline towards another safe spot before Jungkook practically crushed the wall.

            His form of payback was crazy.

            “Yes, she wasn’t, Jimin,” he pushed back his hair, showcasing his defined jawline. “Or else she would’ve been crushed like this wall.”

            You believed in your hand-to-hand combat skills.

            But you don’t believe them in hand-to-hand combats.

           Jimin’s grip on your hair was unforgiving. As if his life depended on the tightness of the tug. Your eyes were filled with tears from the burn on your scalp. He trapped your body as he sat on your back, one hand tugging on your hair and the other resting on his crouched knee.

           “Weak as ever (Y/N).”

           You grunted in response.

           “That’s why you’re always under me and forever will.” Jimin enunciated each word clearly, drilling them into your brain. “So, remember your priorities: me before anyone and anything.”

           “That is enough, Jimin.” Jungkook stood in front of you with hands in his pocket, looking down at you. The stinging pain on your scalp affected your ability to open both eyes fully, only one of your eyes was opened as you tried to look the superior in front of you.

           “You’re getting way too soft on her, Kook,” Jimin pouted. “That’s why she fails as a Jeon.”

           “I’m a Kishou.” You hissed.

           A new bruising and unforgiving pain started on your scalp and the cause was Jungkook. His movement was so fast that you didn’t get to comprehend the moment he crouched down and replace Jimin’s hand with his own.

           “Kishou clan ended long time ago, sweetheart. Stop being delusional and be grateful the Jeon clan even took you in. You’re a Jeon, so live up to it. Do not sully the good name.”

           He let go of your hair and stood to his full height. Jimin’s hand found its way around your burning scalp yet again but instead of inflicting more pain, he surprisingly massaged your scalp and even stroked your hair.

           The door flew open, gracing the room with the presence of another two Special Class investigators and another one Associate: Min Yoongi, Kim Mingyu, and Kim Seokjin.

           Your eyes were quick to fall on your partner’s figure.

           “Gyu,” you whispered softly with utmost gratefulness.

           But your gratefulness was short-lived as the bruising grip on your hair returned and stronger. Jimin pushed your face to meet with the floor.

           “Jimin!” It was Jin’s voice.

           “Shh, Jin hyung,” this time it was Yoongi’s voice. “They are in their training session. We mustn’t disturb them.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, honestly.

           “The training session ended 2 minutes ago. Release her, Park.” Mingyu said.

           You were sure Jimin was trying to plant your face into the ground. Might as well your whole body. The pressure he put was enough to make you imagine so. Whimpers fell from your mouth involuntarily as you felt the pain was too overbearing that it had already exceeded your limit.

           Jimin let go of your hair harshly and the weight on your back disappeared. You stayed in your position for a few seconds and only raised your head when you heard another clicking sound of a door which indicated that Jimin has left the combat room.

            Jungkook was still standing in front of you. When you tried to stand up, he quickly got to your level and tried to offer a hand.

           Keyword: tried.

           “Ah, Jungkook.” Yoongi tutted. “You can go freshen up. Mingyu will take care of her.”

           Before Yoongi even finished his sentences, your attention was stolen when you heard footsteps approaching you. The next thing you knew, Mingyu was already next to you, helping you to get off the ground.

           “I believe it’s appropriate for me to assist my student until the end.” Jungkook said.

            He glared at the hands that were touching you, and with a deep and dangerous voice, he enjoined. “Get your hands off her, Kim.”      

           But Mingyu was unfazed.

           “It is, Director Jeon,” Yoongi agreed. “But Director Kim urgently asked for your presence. 2nd ward has been attacked by a group of unknown ghouls. You might want to resolve that quickly.”

           The Investigator of Special Class strode towards the changing room with Jin hot on his trail.

           “Rather than to waste your time on…” Yoongi moved his cold gaze to you. “Her.”

           Ouch.

           Jungkook stayed on his spot for a good few seconds before he abruptly stood up and headed towards the changing room with big steps. Yoongi has a victorious smirk on his face as he casually followed Jungkook into the changing room, followed by Jin who sent you a look of pity.

            You wished for the day to end already.

           Before you have the chance to even be sucked into your hole of darkness and self-loathing, a hand reached out to stroke your head. It was Mingyu. He helped you to get into the correct posture and placed you in his arms. You didn’t put up any fights to protect your pride – not like there was any left. It was trampled on by your two superiors – and rested your head on his chest.

           Before the darkness consumed you wholly, you heard a familiar voice calling for you.

          It wasn’t Mingyu’s.

           “(Y/N)!”

           It was Minghao’s.

           And then all your sense shut off.

All rights reserved © 2022 kthyg. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost without permission. Feedback is always appreciated! It keeps me motivated and helps me improve myself. Send me an ask <;3

[petri808]

7/29/23 Fears prompt @allaboutnalu for Nalu Week 2023

Levy gently places her hand over her best friends, coaxing her to relax. “Try not to worry and have a little fun tonight Lucy, we’re celebrating your freedom.” The two women are at their favorite bar to drown their stress in alcohol, music, and maybe some eye-candy but who’s gonna snitch? It is a comfortable place that they’ve been coming to since their college years, and since they know some of the employees, they even get drinks for free sometimes.

“I can’t help it,” Lucy sighs. “Everything’s still so fresh,” she absentmindedly reaches up and touches her left cheek below her eye where it was punched a week ago. Thankfully, the bruising has gone down and it’s just tender still. This is the first time in probably a year that she’s been to this bar or really spent the night out just with her girlfriends because of her ex’s controlling behaviors. “Dan just won’t leave me alone. I’ve even seen him driving past my job or home like he’s keeping tabs.”

Lucy Heartfilia has just gotten out of an abusive relationship with her ex-boyfriend Dan. It started out like so many domestic abuse situations where they are perfect gentlemen, sweet talking, and romantic, but slowly and surely the psychological manipulation began. Guilt-tripping her when she wanted to hang out with her friends or visit her own family. Making excuses for why he wanted to drive her to and from work. Throwing tantrums when he didn’t get his way, verbally berating, or making rude comments about her appearance only to switch gears and be extremely apologetic. Dan would tell her he’d commit suicide if she left him, and so the guilt also kept her from leaving for fear that he might actually go through with it. Of course, it��s all a trap, to lure her back in emotionally and make her feel like things will get better.

It was always that hope of change that she hung onto as the cycle repeated itself again and again. Abuse and repentance. But there’s only so much someone can take, and thankfully for Lucy she has the support of a best friend that will not let her fall. Yeah, it’s great to be free, but there is always the sense of fear and dread when she must walk outside alone, like when she’s leaving her apartment building or office, or even shopping at the store. What if Dan makes good on his threats? She’s never been such a nervous person before that it’s sad how one bad relationship can leave a person tainted for the rest of their lives.

“Did you go to the court house to apply for the restraining order?” Levy queries.

“I did.” Lucy responds. “The process server is supposed to serve him tomorrow.”

“Good,” Levy responds with an approving nod. “Then if that bastard comes near you, the cops can throw him in jail!” She looks around to see if the server’s nearby before standing up. “I’m gonna run to the restroom, if the server comes by can you order me another drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” Lucy smiles. “I’ll make sure to.”

With the music an even tempo of soft alternative and pop, nothing to dance or too lively, it lulls the listeners into a pleasant mood. Lucy really misses coming to this ambient atmosphere after a hard week of pursuing and writing articles instead of going home to an unhappy relationship. If only… Her eyes narrow in towards the front entrance, widening in a flash as she sees Dan step through the threshold.

“Shit!” She grits her teeth and scoots down in the booth. “I knew it!” Lucy just knew he’d likely come looking for her since he knew this is a favorite hang out spot.

Lucy scans the room, eyes flitting around for a way to avoid being caught by him. She can’t get to the front door because it’ll take stepping into the open for him to grab her, and she rather not get trapped in the restrooms... Maybe, she keys onto the bar counter… maybe if she can get to the bartender she’ll at least have an ally to help her. Using the columns and darker areas along the walls, Lucy weaves through other patrons towards the bar counter.

“Lucy!”

Her body stiffens at the familiar angry voice and cringes when she sees Dan yelling and waving frantically while he picks up his pace. No, no, no! As he pushes through the crowd, Lucy sprints the final few feet and grabs onto the first guy sitting alone at the counter. Pink-hair, taller and fit wearing a nice buttons down business shirt and slacks like he just got here from an office. Under other circumstance she’d be ogling the guy not crashing his evening. “Hey babe!” She weaves her arm around his solid bicep. “Sorry I’m late!” Lucy leans close and whispers through a gritted smile, her eyes desperately focused and appealing. “Please play along!”

Just as Dan reaches them, the male who’s eyes at first startles from the intrusion, quickly catches the hint and pulls Lucy in, planting a kiss on her cheek, and all the while side-eyeing the other male. “It’s fine baby, I just got here too.”

“What the fuck!” Dan forcefully grabs the strangers shoulder and pushes while reaching for Lucy’s arm, but the stranger sweeps Lucy aside out of Dan’s way, further enraging him.

Placing Lucy behind him, the stranger stands up from the bar stool and holds his hand up to Dan’s chest without actually touching him. “What the fuck is right!” The pink-haired male menacingly narrows his gaze. “I suggest you back off buddy, I don’t give a damn who you are, but the lady clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you!”

“This ain’t your problem, asshole, she’s my girlfriend!” Dan spits back.

“No, I’m not!” Lucy screams as tears trickle down her cheeks. “You abusive bastard, I’ve got a restraining order on you so leave me alone! We’re done!”

Dan ignores both their statements and makes another lunge to reach for Lucy, but the stranger open palm pushes at Dan’s chest, forcing him to stagger back a foot or two. “Leave!” The stranger snaps, growling his words. “She’s my girl now, and if you keep harassing her I’ll make you sorry!”

At the strangers confirmatory words, Dan roars and lunges at the man who sidesteps and retaliates with an uppercut to his stomach, knocking the wind out of Dan who crumples to the floor coughing. Just as Dan tries to get to his knees, the bouncers are now there and grab him by his shoulders, one on each side they start pulling him away as he continues to shout profanities.

It’s over.

Lucy slumps against the bar top, leaning on it to stop from falling as the adrenaline rushing through her body begins to wane. “Thank you,” the words trickle out in a soft tone laced with held back tears. “Thank you sir, thank you so much,” Lucy repeats over and over.

“Lu!” Levy also finally manages to break through the gathered crowd and rushes to her friends side, pulling the blonde into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here!”

“It’s over, Levy,” Lucy gently sobs a mixture of elated relief. “Thanks to this nice man here.” Now that she can breathe easier, she realizes this stranger is even cuter than she originally noticed. He has gorgeous green eyes that sparkle in the disco-type lights panning the room. The man’s smile also conveys a happy lightness that pulls you in deeper and wanting for more. She feels a bit of warmth brewing over her cheeks, but could anyone blame her after such a harrowing save by this hero?

Levy turns to the stranger while still holding her friend. “I’m Levy, and this is my bestie Lucy.” Her head tips to the side and eyes flit to the front door to accentuate the who. “That guy’s been stalking my friend, so thank you so much for helping her! He might’ve kidnapped her if he got to her.”

The stranger smiles. “It’s nice to meet you both, and don’t worry, I’m happy to help out a pretty lady in need. I’ve dealt with a lot of dumbasses over the years, so I’m used to it.”

“I bet,” Levy chuckles. “It’s a nice reminder that good guys still exist.”

Here they are chatting like old friends yet they don’t even know his name. Lucy pulls away from Levy to finish wiping away the remaining tears and clean herself up. “So, what’s you name sir?” She finally smiles genuinely. “Is there anything I can do for you, perhaps buy you a drink to thank you?”

The man pulls out a card holder and hands Lucy a business card. “Detective Natsu Dragneel at your service,” he smiles and winks. “A drink is fine, but what I’d really like is your number and to take you out to dinner if you’re up for it.”

A surprised gasp lets out as Levy looks to see Lucy’s face turning cherry red. Having known each other for years, she knew exactly what her best friend is thinking. “Yes!” Levy squeals while pushing Lucy closer to the man. “She’d love to!”

“Levy!”

[dawnagustd]

cool’n || ksj

Written For:

❃ Festivaled Away: Hot Boy Summer hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​

⤞ Ticket: Pool Party ⤞ Main Event: Bubblegum (hot girl/boy shit) ⤞ Games: choking | power dynamics | degradation | temperature play

⤞ title: cool’n ⤞ pairing: sugar daddy!seokjin x sugar baby!female reader ⤞ genre: smut | established relationship | pwp ⤞ summary: You’re just out doing some hot girl shit with your friends, but your boyfriend does not approve. ⤞ word count: 1.3k ⤞ warnings: strong language | exhibitionism | petting | choking | power play dynamics | degradation & erotic humiliation | temperature play | teasing | orgasm denial | sexual punishment | brat tamer!seokjin | dom/sub dynamics | sugar daddy & sugar baby relationship | pet names | clit stimulation | one ass slap | dirty talk | alcohol consumption | age gap(3 years) - reader is older | jealousy | a little possessiveness | sexual tension | flirting ⤞ rating: 18+ ⤞ a/n: I really didn’t mean to write this...I just slipped and fell on Seokjin’s d*ck.😂But anyway, I wrote this last night because we just kicked off our summer events over at BBH. Shoutout to Madame Ryen @kithtaehyung​ for these prompts!! Also, thank you Mars @joheunsaram​ for helping me thirst(brainstorm). Anyway, here it is. Enjoy.

You weren’t expecting him to show up. Not after he told you to get the hell out of his office so he can work. That's all he thinks about—work. You just knew he’d be there now, but when someone sits beside you and throws their arm over your beach chair, you know from the gentle strokes on the skin of your shoulder that those fingers belonged to him.

“What are you doing out here, baby girl?” He stares straight ahead as he speaks, following your gaze to the flirty bartender on the other side of the pool.

You should have called or text at least, but he pissed you off so you had no choice but to act out. You called your friends and told them to spin the block; you wanted to partake in hot girl summer as well.

“Nothing.”

He beckons for one of the poolside servers to bring him a beer, and she does so rather scandalously. You scowl at her when he hands her a twenty dollar bill, preparing to give her a piece of your mind, but then Seokjin taps your leg with the cold bottle. “Easy, baby girl.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m older than you.” Your arms fold at your chest and you mistakenly uncross your legs.

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” 

Seokjin twists off the cap and takes a sip of his beverage with a small ahh. He sits back in his chair, and lets you know he isn’t in the mood for your games. “Be a good girl and hold my beer for me.”

Seokjin places the bottle between your thighs with only a small bit of effort. He whispers, “keep them closed,” and you know he’s got you good this time. The ice cold glass rests directly against your center, making you whimper and dig your nails in his arm. He twists the bottle a few times, and you give him a look of panic. “You wouldn’t.”

“You should know me well enough to know that I would,” he replies. 

Seokjin runs his cold fingers over your skin, tugging on the string of your bikini when he reaches the fabric. “Just sit back, look pretty, and take your punishment, baby girl. I might reward you if you can get through it without screaming.”

“Ohh…my god. Shit.” 

You try to maintain your composure while he slides the bottle up and down your thinly covered slit. Your watery eyes look over at him with a silent plea that he rejects instantly. 

“Don’t even ask because right now you should be thankful that I’m even touching you. You wanna come out here and be everyone else’s whore, ask them to make you come then.”

Your eyes focus on the sky, trying to distract yourself from the way your sensitive clit throbs against the glass. Your arousal only adds to the moisture pooling between your thighs, and you silently pray it doesn’t seep through your flimsy bikini bottoms. There isn’t a breeze in the evening air, but your body is shaking from the chill and the pressure applied to your pulsing bud. “Seokjin, please.”

A couple of people turn their heads in your direction when they pass by because they overhear you moan his name, and when you look at him to beg for mercy, he has a smirk on his face. Everyone can probably see the embarrassment all over your face; most don’t even know the cause of it, but some are very aware of what is happening. Your hips begin to roll on their own, disobeying every rational thought you mind is telling you not to commit such lewd acts in a public place.

“Look at you,” he comments. “...giving my pussy to the streets. You aren’t really mine, huh?”

Seokjin applies more pressure and your thighs clench harder. Your chest heaves up and down, trying to steady your breathing but to no avail. 

“I am,” you croak, but Seokjin only tsks in response.

“You’re gonna have to prove it. I have to leave work because I see my girl on Instagram chillin' with these clowns.” He leans forward to speak in your ear. “You think they can afford your lifestyle?...think they can make you come all over yourself like I can?”

You shake your head. “No. They can’t.”

He hums. 

“Mmhm, ask that lady for another beer.”

You call the waitress over, and she brings over another ice cold beverage, smiling when Seokjin makes you hand her the large bill he places in your hand. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you so much,” you chirp with a fake smile. Your eyes roll in annoyance when she finally leaves.

When Seokjin’s hand touches your back, you sit up a little straight due to his cold fingertips. 

“You’re gonna go enjoy the party,” he tells you while he uses the bottle to massage your clit.

“And when I tell you we’re leaving, you better have your pretty ass standing by my car within the next five minutes, you understand?”

You nod your head. “Yes, but Seokjin can I just—”

“No, you can’t. Grab that beer and finish it.”

With shaky hands you reach down and pick up the bottle, struggling to bring it to your lips because of your trembling. “Don’t you sneak off to go play with yourself either. I’m watching you,” he adds.

“Okay.”

You gulp down the refreshing cold liquid graciously; your mouth is dry and your body is on edge, mourning the loss of such an amazing orgasm. Seokjin takes the unopened beer from your hand and places it beside him for later.

“Look at me.” 

You turn in your chair, swinging your legs over so you can be face to face with him. His hand wraps around your throat while he gives you a stern look—silently reminding you to be on your best behavior. You stare at his plump lips when they come within an inch from yours, wishing for a small kiss that he surprisingly gives to you.

“If this is what your friends call a hot girl summer then they’re fucking delusional. After I fuck your brains out tonight, go pack your shit because I’m gonna take you on a real vacation, alright?”

“Of course, thank you, baby.”

“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart,” he warns.

When Seokjin tells you to go find someone to play with, you stand up as quickly as you can. He slaps your ass before you can depart, and you feel his eyes follow you to the dancefloor. You spot your friends, and one of them immediately pulls you closer for girl talk.

“Did it work?”

“Like a fucking charm,” you answer, looking over your shoulder. “He’s finally taking some time off. He needs a damn break.”

Seokjin watches you from his chair, sipping on his beer in silence, but his aura is more powerful than the bass booming through the speakers. It’s hard to defy him, but someone has to do it. “Girl, you’re brave as hell. He was ready to rip your clothes off and bend you over right out here. Your man really plays no games,” she points out.

You see one of the waitresses from earlier approach him, and when he doesn’t respond she follows his gaze to you. An apologetic smile is the only thing she can offer before she scurries away, and you turn back to your friends with a smirk.

“Neither do I, ladies.”

[snaddyx]

A/N: This is literally the first NSFW anything I've written, so PLEASE let me know what you think! I'd love to improve in any way I can. No real warnings apply to this, there's some light bondage, degradation- nothing too crazy.

~~~~~

The heels of your boots clicked down the hall of the dungeons, matching the pace of your racing heart while you made your way to Professor Snape's office for the sixth night this week. You could have sworn that he was making up work for you to do as a small way of torturing you for merely existing. But you had decided that you would not give up, not this far into working with the potions master. This was your second year as his assistant at Hogwarts and it was already proving to be harder than the last. 

The school year started nearly a month ago. At first, he ignored you much to your chagrin. You thought that after the events of last year, you had finally moved past him brushing you off and sneering at you. That maybe your working relationship could now at least be civilized. You shuddered at the thought of last year - images of Severus limping into your office one night with desperation in his eyes. You had stood from your desk, looking down to see a gash across his leg that was bleeding profusely. You still weren't sure why he hadn't gone straight to Madame Pomfrey to tend his injuries after he had thrown himself in front of Professor Lupin when he had tried to attack students as a werewolf. You tenderly treated his wound with healing magic, potions and salves before finally helping him to your bed. You stayed up all night monitoring him - you knew he would be fine, but you worried. 

After that, he had acted kinder towards you. It was his way of thanking you. But then you left for the summer break and everything had returned to normal when you arrived two weeks before term started. Determined to break through his rough exterior and see that side of him again, you had decided to keep pressing him, continued to be kind to him. You were resolved to become his respected colleague. You hoped to be his friend. And the butterflies you got when touching him, lightly caressing his thigh as you applied a healing salve to avoid scarring - the small grunts he made that didn't entirely sound like they were from pain - electricity shot down your spine and to your core... Maybe you wanted to break through to him in deeper ways. But he hadn't acknowledged anything that passed between you, and now you were back to square one. 

Until you had called him out in front of the second years in class six days ago. He had disrespected you in front of them and you had hit your boiling point. His eyes turned black, angry, and he dismissed the glass with a low and dangerous "Get. Out."  He brushed passed you then, storming out of the classroom leaving you to clean up and teach the next class. You received an owl at dinner that night with a letter scrawled out to you. 

My office, 7:00. Do not be late. 

And it had been so every night since - except tonight. Tonight, the note said to arrive at 9:00. So you did, at 9:00pm sharp, and entered the open door to his office with your shoulders back, chin high. Whatever tedious task you were assigned tonight would be done without complaint. 

"Shut the door," Snape said without looking up from the homework on his desk. 

You did as requested and approached his desk quietly. Sat in the chair across from him. Waited. 

"Sir?" 

Nothing. You sighed and sat back in your chair, crossing your legs. His eyes snapped up from his grading at the sound and lingered on your face before his gaze slowly went down to your chest, your legs, then back up again. 

"It's rude to stare, sir," you leaned forward again and propped your elbows on his desk and smirked. "What do you require of me tonight?" 

"I would like," he finally replied, "for you to transfer the ingredients from those jars to those jars." He waved at the ingredients across his office and resumed grading the papers. You scoffed and didn't move. 

"I believe that is all the instruction you require, is it not, Miss Y/N?" 

"Yes sir." 

"And are you incapable of standing to complete this task?" 

"No sir."

"Then why are you. still. sitting. here?" Each word punctuated, venomous. 

"Because this is a foolish task, Professor." You had spent the past six nights completing similar tasks, and when you had finished one there was another one lined up. It was a waste of time. "Do you not think that I am more than capable of assisting elsewhere?"

Snape slammed his hands on his desk and stood up, the legs of his chair scraping the floor as it flew back. 

"Do not speak out of turn! It may have escaped your notice, but you are my assistant, you are here to assist me." His brows were furrowed together and he leaned over his desk towards you.

"That may be true, sir, but it may have escaped your notice that I am qualified to do more than just silly tasks to pass the time. Why do you insist that I am here as just some fucking girl that you can ogle and abuse your power on. Does the potions master title feed your ego that much, that you feel the need to degrade me at every chance you get?"

Snape's eyes turned dark with anger as you spoke, but you didn't give a shit. You were tired of this, past your limits of what you could take and still respect yourself. If he wasn't willing to work with you, respect you enough to lend you even a speck of decency, then you didn't know where you were going with this. When you were finished talking, he recoiled away from you with a look of disgust. 

"That you have the audacity," Snape replied with a low voice, his fingers dragging on his desk as he began walking around it, "to speak to me in such a way-"

"The same could be said for you, Professor," you cut him off. You lifted your chin into the air as you held his eye contact, but backed away as he got closer to you. With every step you took back, he followed. 

"You insolent little witch!" Snape leaned down to your eye level as he spoke. "Always parading around like you own the place, demanding more respect when you have not earned it!" 

"Have I not?! I've been working as your assistant for a year now, and yet you still treat me like a bug on the bottom of your shoe. And after I helped you last year, I thought-"

"Thought what, exactly? That I would bow to you, my savior?" 

"No. That maybe things would change, that you would be able to acknowledge whatever this tension is between us because I know that there is more to it than just disdain. And you are too cowardly to admit it." You took another step back, turning to the door. "Fuck you, Severus. I don't know why I've bothered."

You reached the door and opened it, prepared to exit, but you heard his footsteps approach you quickly. His hand reached around your head and slammed the door shut, the other arm coming around your other side to lock it. You were pinned in between him and the door, heart beating in your throat, and you spun to face him. He leaned down once again to eye level. You could feel his hot breath against your neck and the smell of him... Merlin, did he smell divine. 

"Fuck you, she says. Yes, that's exactly it, isn't it? Don't you dare act as though I am the only one ogling here, Y/N. Yes, I heard those filthy thoughts when you mended my leg. I felt your desperation seeping from you." He stood straight then and grasped the back of your neck, dragging you beside him back to his desk. "Every day I must suffer those thoughts."

He shoved you towards the desk and spun you around, facing away from him. His hand pushed you down so your face was pressed into the cool wood. 

"Is this what you want, Y/N?" He pressed himself into your behind and you could feel his length against you. "Is this what you have been so desperate for?" You tried to stand back up but he pushed you down again. His belt rattled as he took it off, as he tied your hands with it behind your back. 

"So desperate for my approval, my respect, my cock." He chuckled lowly. You felt your skirt being lifted, exposing your ass to him. Heat rose in your face. "Just lovely," he praised as his calloused hand rubbed the now exposed skin, "and all for me."

He leaned down to your ear and whispered, "Count." 

You tried to turn back to look at him, to ask what he meant, when his hand came down and made sharp contact with your skin. 

"Severus, please," you yelped as his hand came down again. 

"Count!" 

"One," slap. 

"Two," slap. 

"This is what disrespectful witches deserve," he sneered at you as his hand came down again and again. By the tenth slap you were whimpering. "Enjoying this, are we?"

Snape pulled you up by the belt just enough for him to reach around and rip open the buttons of your blouse. His hand went under your bra and pulled your breasts out before he roughly pinched your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled you up some more, giving him leverage to reach around to your heat. His fingers slipped between your folds and began rubbing circles around your clit. 

"Already so wet for me," he whispered into your ear. He nibbled at your neck and earlobe. "I need you to tell me you want this." 

You nodded eagerly, but it wasn't enough. He pinched your nipple hard. 

"Use your words." 

"Yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Please, sir."

He pushed you back down onto the desk and lined himself up with your entrance before pushing his cock in, not giving you time to adjust to his length. You both let out a low moan as he slowly pulled back out, quickly plunged back in. 

"My little slut," he grunted as he pushed all the way into your dripping cunt. "You belong to me." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Tell me." 

"I belong to you." You breathed out. With every pump, your hips hit against the desk and you let out a cry of pain and pleasure. Severus splayed his fingers in your hair before grabbing onto a handful and pulling it. His his snapped into you, quicker and quicker. 

"So tight for such a little slut," grunted out between thrusts. "Is this what you wanted? Taking my cock on my desk, writhing under me."

You moaned back in response, feeling yourself getting close. Teetering on the edge of coming, you clenched around him. 

"You don't come until I say you can come, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." 

You struggled not to as his breathing became erratic as his hips kept snapping against you, his balls slapping against the back of your thighs. He once again reached around to rub circles around your clit. Your hands grasped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as you groaned from the pleasure. His low moans filled the air, making you throb on his dick even more, your body threatening to tumble over the edge. The heat was rising in your core, the familiar feeling becoming overwhelming. 

"Come for me," he demanded. Your body pulsed with the waves of your orgasm as you climaxed, your walls slamming down around his cock. You cried out with each wave of pleasure.

"Fuck, Severus!"

 "What a good little whore, coming all over my cock," he praised you as you came down from your climax. He kept pumping into you but you could feel he was close. 

He pulled out of you after a few more thrusts, pulled on the belt around your hands and dragged you to the floor. He pumped his cock in one hand, the other on the desk behind you, before streams of cum shot out onto your face and dropped down onto your chest. He tucked himself back into his pants before wiping up his cum with his thumb and wiping it along the inside of your bottom lip, marking you. 

"Clean yourself up and get out. I will see you tomorrow night at 9:00."

[yslkook]

#deep dive (11)

#corporate masterlist summary: you receive some surprising news at work and you and jungkook go on your first mini-trip together in tokyo. word count: 11.2k warnings: cursing, alcohol, smut, a fight, discussions of mental health smut warnings- handjob, blowjob, fingering, guided masturbation, penetrative sex, overstimulation, a lil crying, excessive use of pet names lol a/n: another chapter that got away from me... our couple is moving along ladies!! as always ty @cutechim for ur inspiring enthusiasm!!

Surprisingly, after your outburst at work, you hadn’t been reprimanded at all. Despite being nervous to show your face to your boss and your coworkers, there was apparently no need to be nervous.

Because your boss was out on “leave”. Which, as Seokjin and Namjoon had informed you, was really just a way for the senior leaders to tell your boss and his boss to get their shit together.

Much more aggressively, of course. 

You’re surprised to see your boss’s office empty and his boss’s office empty as well. And then guilt begins to seep into your bones- had you gotten them fired? It was hard enough to land a job these days, and had you done that to them?

Jungkook catches your forlorn gaze and squeezes your hand subtly as he walks with you to your cubicle. Your side of the floor is relatively quiet today, as many people were out of the office or working from home.

He sits with you in the chair in your cubicle and pulls his laptop out to do some work on this breezy morning. You quite like these impromptu working sessions with him- even if you’re (halfway) in love with him, you both know where to raise the lines of professionalism.

But you hold his hand for a second longer, and he squeezes once more.

“What if I got them fired,” You whisper, careful to keep your voice low.

“Even if they did get fired, they deserve it. For creating a toxic workplace environment,” Jungkook says, so full of conviction that you almost believe it.

“Okay,” You say uncertainly, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, giving you a sweet, bunny smile, “I’m sure.”

You nod, sighing heavily. “I’ll book a conference room, can you ping Sana and let her know we have to finish those deliverables for the workshop in August? So Namjoon can get his eyes on it…”

“Can’t believe it’s already May,” Jungkook mumbles, shaking his head, “Fucking crazy.”

“I know, right?” 

You pack up your laptop and your notebook in your bag and gesture for Jungkook to follow you to the conference room. He walks behind you, wanting to catch a glimpse of the way your dark green pencil skirt hugs your hips and your ass.

Nice.

Midway through your working meeting with Sana and Jungkook, you receive a ping from Hae-Ri herself. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you when you stop speaking mid-sentence, your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity.

“Uh, I gotta step out for a few minutes. Can you two finish this off in the meantime?” You ask, pulling your green blazer on shoving your laptop in your bag.

“Yeah, I think we’re almost done anyway,” Sana says, eyeing you and Jungkook with suspicious eyes. She’s long suspected something was going on with you both. She’s not blind to the not so discreet heart eyes you both send each other, but she assumes you both are keeping whatever it is a secret.

Jungkook sends you a text right away. You tell him Hae-Ri asked to speak with you and that you’ll text him later.

Your heart is in your throat as you walk the two minutes to her corner office with a view but you keep your face as neutral as possible.

She’s already ushering you inside and closing the door behind her, telling you to take a seat.

“Do you want coffee or tea or water?” Hae-Ri asks, pouring herself a large cup of coffee.

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” You say, straightening your back as you try to calm your racing heart.

She sits in her big, fancy leather office chair (it looks like it costs more than the outfit on your skin) and she just looks at you, with her unnerving eyes. You say nothing, only meeting her gaze with the same intensity.

Hae-Ri breaks your impromptu staring contest first with a wide grin. 

“So,” She starts.

“So…”

“Do you know why I asked you to come in here?”

You bite your tongue, wanting to ask her “how would I know why you called me in here” but you refrain. “No…”

“Being the head of business development means that I have visibility to everything,” Hae-Ri says matter of factly, “And I’m sure you know that Namjoon and Seokjin sing your praises every chance they can.

“The reason I called you in here is because there’s an opening for a new team that’s gonna be managed under both Hyo-Jin and I. It’ll be a hybrid approach for managing new products, submissions and being part of the business strategy. The position would have a direct line to Hyo-Jin but a dotted line to me. And we think you would be a great fit for it. It’s an associate director level position…”

Associate director? You can’t help your jaw from dropping, that’s three levels up from your current position. It’s a promotion on top of a promotion.

Holy shit. Nobody’s ever recognized you in this way. You swallow a ball of emotion down your throat- of course, you complain about work, about your shitty boss. But never in your wildest dreams, could you have imagined that two of the heads in this area would recognize and recommend you.

“It’s a lot to think about and consider. The position will be posted on the internal career portal in about three weeks to a month. It’ll be a challenge, but I think you’re up to the task. Of course, there is no pressure if you choose not to apply. But talent and leadership should not go unrecognized.”

When you tell Jungkook what Hae-Ri said to you in the safety of your car, he’s far more excited than you are. He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your lips and you can’t help but laugh at his antics.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Jungkook breathes, “About time these people got their shit together-”

“It’s a lot to think about,” You muse, “A promotion of three levels? That hardly ever happens…”

“That just shows how incredibly amazing my hot, sexy, girlfriend is,” Jungkook says, earning himself a swat of his shoulder by your hand, “And it shows how shitty your boss was to let you fly under the radar for this long.”

You give him a small smile. “I have a few weeks to think about it before it gets posted. Hae-Ri said it should be up in mid-June…”

“We gotta celebrate,” Jungkook insists, dropping another kiss to your glossy lips. You laugh, feeling a little giddy along with him.

“It’s not premature?”

“We’re only celebrating the mere possibility.”

“Okay,” You nod, “Let’s go for drinks tonight with our friends? But can we just keep it between us? I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“Yeah, it can be our secret for now,” Jungkook winks, his hoops shaking as he laughs with you, “Stay the night tonight?”

“Maybe, I’ll see if Grandma is okay,” You murmur and Jungkook nods. A squeal (one that you’ll later deny) leaves your lips when Jungkook pulls you into his lap and presses kisses up and down the column of your neck.

“Now lemme show my girl how proud I am of her.”

It’s another night, a warm sticky night in June, where Jungkook stays over your house for the weekend. You don’t like leaving Grandma alone, despite her insistence that you have your own life. Jungkook understands, and it was actually him who had suggested spending the weekend at your place.

Your heart flutters at the thought of him. He had a late Friday meeting and had told you he’d meet you at your house around seven or eight that evening, and had subtly squeezed your hand in your cubicle in goodbye.

That was a few hours ago, and Jungkook had texted you letting you know that he was on his way. He had stopped by to bring flowers, a bottle of wine and some pastries for you and Grandma. They were Grandma’s favorites.

Grandma had insisted on making dinner for you and Jungkook, despite your protests. Your favorite aromas linger in the air and you contemplate having a few bites before Jungkook even arrives. You try to reach for a piece of mandu but Grandma swats your hand away, admonishing you for trying to eat before your boyfriend and guest even arrived.

Boyfriend. What a strange word.

A series of knocks. You eagerly step towards the front door, ignoring Grandma’s not so quiet snicker. 

“Hi,” You breathe out, feeling a little flustered. As if you hadn’t just seen him a few hours ago at work.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Jungkook says with a small upturn of his lips and you press a chaste kiss to his lips. It surprises him, how often you kiss him in front of Grandma. Even if they are quick, chaste kisses.

“You gonna invite him in or just stand there and let him get cold?” Grandma says from the dining room, peering over to you both with a hand on her hip.

“Yeah, you gonna let me get cold?” Jungkook asks with a wink and you groan. They always tag team you, but you don’t mind. In fact, you love it. You love that your boyfriend and your only remaining member of your family get along.

You pull him inside and take his bag from him, finally seeing the flowers, bottle of wine and box in his arms. 

“What’s all this?” You ask with widened eyes, “You didn’t have to, Jungkook…”

He always brings something when he comes over, and you always say those words to him. 

“His parents raised him better than to come to someone’s house empty handed,” Grandma says in approval, making Jungkook’s heart soar. Whenever Grandma gives an inclination that she likes him, it makes him smile. It’s endearing. You rub his cheek with your thumb affectionately and he scrunches his nose at your touch.

“I’ll go put your stuff upstairs,” You murmur, rubbing his back warmly and leaving him with Grandma. Jungkook pulls the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows to help Grandma put the food on the dining table, and your heart constricts at how well he fits with you in your cozy home.

You return to find three glasses of wine filled and a plate already set for you across from Jungkook. 

“Food’s so good, Grandma,” Jungkook moans, after nearly inhaling his entire plate. And then some.

“No thanks to your girlfriend,” Grandma snorts and shoots you a teasing smile when you protest loudly.

“Hey! You insisted!” 

You pout at both of them when they laugh at your expense, but their laughter makes you smile. Grandma asks Jungkook how work is going, how his family is. You only smile fondly at both of them, taking a backseat from the conversation. It amazes you, how quickly he’s taken to Grandma. You thought it would’ve taken a little more to pull him out of his shell. But he surprises you, as he usually does.

You clear the table and pour another glass of wine for you and Jungkook, who’s turning on your television to browse what movies or shows are available for watching. 

You sit next to him after dimming the lights, careful with the two glasses of wine. He’s careful about touching you, not wanting to offend or make you or Grandma uncomfortable. 

It’s endearing. You only smile at him, pulling the blankets up to cover you both and lean your head on his shoulder. He tenses up immediately, wanting to reluctantly move away from your touch but you squeeze his forearm in reassurance.

Grandma says nothing as she watches you both, only casting a knowing look to Jungkook. 

His cheeks flush at her gaze and he sinks deeper under the blankets, hiding his warm cheeks from Grandma. Grandma only chuckles to herself and you’re oblivious to both of them, eyes focused on the movie.

Grandma had long gone to bed, and you and Jungkook are cuddled under the blankets. Jungkook watches the movie raptly, oblivious to your stolen glances and almost touches. You sigh, wrapping an arm around his bicep and nosing at his neck. You absently push his hair away from his eyes, the pads of your fingers dancing over his scalp. It takes a few moments of you nipping his neck, your lips wet and warm against his skin for him to turn his gaze to you.

“Can I help you?” Jungkook asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

“But the movie,” Jungkook protests, his lips breaking into a wide smile at the furrow of your brow, “I’m only kidding. We can watch the movie in bed after all, right?”

You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully but he acquiesces. 

You get through all of ten minutes of the movie once you settle in between his legs in your bed. Jungkook’s chin is over your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist loosely. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating right out of your chest. He holds you so easily, as if he was always meant to fit between the spaces of your body.

You’ve changed into your pajamas, just a shirt and some shorts and Jungkook has as well. Into an oversized shirt and his boxers. 

Jungkook fully looks like your boyfriend, your baby, and it sends a wave of affection through you. Turning your head and shifting to look at him. His cut jaw calls for your attention and you press your lips there, to his neck and finally to his own lips.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” You mumble, running your fingers through his dark hair.

“Are you mine?” Jungkook asks, pressing his forehead to yours. A smart comment is on the tip of your tongue, but it disappears from your mind quickly. The way he’s looking at you, as if you hold all of his warmth, makes you curl further into him and drop another kiss to his lips.

“Yes,” You exhale and your cheeks heat up when you pluck the courage to run a hand over his chest. Jungkook finds your shyness endearing- for someone a little rough around the edges, he’s not surprised at your softness.

“Baby,” Jungkook murmurs, the term of affection still making your heart lurch, “You can touch, sweet girl. ‘M all yours.”

You swallow, a little nervously. “Me too,” You say softly, “Want you to touch me, baby.” You lean your head on his shoulder, tugging him down to you and meet his lips eagerly. You deepen the kiss quickly, a moan slipping out of your mouth without realizing. You could kiss him for hours, the soft feel of his smooth lips against yours is addicting. Flurries of butterflies erupt in your belly when he nips your bottom lip playfully and you moan again, the sound shooting straight through Jungkook.

He pulls away for a breath, looking at you with hooded eyes. You’re about to dip your head for another kiss but he ducks his head to plaster his lips to your neck. The wetness of his tongue slides along the column of your neck, before he gently kisses you behind your ear. If you were standing, your knees would have buckled surely. Jungkook cups your face gently, rubbing your cheek as he buries his face in your neck.

“Jungkook,” You breathe and he coaxes an unexpected moan from your throat when he sucks and soothes your collarbones.

Jungkook pulls away with reddened lips and you immediately push your lips to his without missing a breath. He’s itching to let his hands roam, to squeeze and hike your shirt up around your waist before peeling it off altogether.

You run your tongue over his bottom lip teasingly and press your chest flat against his. He’s been so patient with you, taking it as slow as you had needed to. Jungkook has been following your lead this whole time, not wanting to overwhelm you. But you’ve been ready for him to take the lead and teach you. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel pressured.

And honestly, all Jungkook wants to do is make you feel good. And learn what you like and don’t like. He doesn’t think you even know what you like. He has a feeling of a few things that he is excited to explore with you.

Jungkook is not surprised when you take his hand and pull it under your shirt. The pads of his fingertips, brush lightly against your sides. You gasp at the sudden spark of his hands against your skin and impatiently slide up against him for more friction.

His hands are so big, so much bigger than your own, dotted in tattoos. You can hardly believe these are the hands that are squeezing you so gently and adoringly. But you’re impatient, and you pull your sleep shirt up and off of your frame to toss it to the side.

You want more. You want more of him and you don’t want slow. You want soft, but you’re ready for something a little more.

“My pretty girl,” Jungkook purrs, thumbs flitting over your tits, “Does my pretty girl want somethin’?”

“Just want you,” You mumble.

“Tell me,” Jungkook murmurs, fingers tracing over your tattoos with a featherlight touch.

“Want you to touch me,” You nearly whine, and he grins in satisfaction. One of these days, he’ll teach you what it means to beg. But not today. He palms your breasts, moaning into your neck just at the feel of your soft flesh in his hands. 

The sight of his tattooed hands on yours, his tattooed arms around you sends another bolt of arousal down your spine.

Your eyes close of their own volition when he pinches your nipple, a silent sound caught in your throat. And then his pliant mouth replaces his fingers, warm breath fanning over your chest. Arousal shoots down your spine and you squeeze your legs together without realizing it. 

It’s clear that he knows what he’s doing- not that you had any doubt in your mind about that. He’s told you that he’s had two serious girlfriends in college and the beginning of graduate school. You’re certain there were hookups in between and after. 

Your hips buck up, grinding into the air as you squirm in his arms. “Stay still,” Jungkook murmurs. You can’t help it, not really. But you try to listen anyway. “Open your eyes,” He coaxes you.

When you meet his eyes, they’re slick with desire and adoration. For you.

“Good girl,” He says, his voice low. The low timber of his voice sends a shudder through you and your eyes widen. Jungkook’s lips twist into a smirk.

“Will you let me make you feel good?” Jungkook asks, his hand ghosting over your thighs. Your hips jump at the sensation and he squeezes your waist. You nod eagerly. “Tell me, baby,” He says, his lips leaving trails of kisses down your chest and your belly.

“Yes,” You gasp, “Jungkook, please-”

He gives you a bright, bunny smile and your heart skips a beat. Adjusting you so that your back is flat against his chest, he kisses the back of your neck. His touch is constant on you- your belly, your waist, your breasts.

Jungkook palms your clothed pussy and you gasp sharply at the buzzing sensation suddenly filling your head. You reach behind him to wrap your arm around his head and tug on his hair impatiently as he rubs against you with quicker paces. 

You wonder if he even knows what he’s doing to you. From the wetness staining your panties, he just might find out soon enough. 

“Show me how you touch yourself, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice husky in your ear. You’re certain cotton is filling his brain, because there’s no way he just asked you that.

“What?” You ask, and Jungkook chuckles at your speechlessness.

“Didn’t hear me?” Jungkook says, “Show me how you touch yourself.”

You’re stunned into submission, peering up at him with hazy eyes. Keeping your eyes on him, you shrug out of your shorts and your underwear in one fell swoop, leaving you completely bare for his gaze. Goosebumps rise on your skin when he says nothing, only drinking you in with wide, thirsty eyes.

Jungkook swallows. “Fuck.”

“What?” You ask, beginning to panic at his lack of a reaction. You close your legs instinctively but he pushes your knees apart, giving him a view of your glistening folds.

“Had such a big crush on you in school,” Jungkook mutters, “You didn’t even know, baby. And now I get to see you like this. Because you gave us a chance.

“And you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Jungkook says, tugging your jaw to him and dropping a deep kiss to your lips.

“Thought you wanted a show,” You quirk the corner of your lips up and he chuckles against your neck. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer to him and you feel something hard poking at your ass.

It makes your stomach flip. You bring your knees up to your chest and spread your legs wider. Jungkook’s breaths are staggered in your ear and he squeezes your tits as your hands slide down your chest to your pussy. You rub your clit, your hips jolting immediately and Jungkook holds you steady. 

You tease yourself, your touch barely there as your clit throbs. “Look at you, pretty girl,” Jungkook murmurs. You circle your clit with your middle finger, gathering your wetness before Jungkook seizes your hand.

It appears he’s growing impatient, too.

His much longer fingers replace yours, the touch sending another bolt of electricity through you. You imagine what Jungkook’s fingers feel like against you almost all the time, but reality is so much better than your daydreams. He rubs you lazily and you whine, wanting him to go faster. You put your hand over his as he circles your clit.

You don’t even realize that you’re moaning and squirming, pushing back against his hard cock purposefully. “Be quiet, baby,” Jungkook whispers, nipping your earlobe, “Grandma’s only a few doors down…”

Jungkook makes you feel like you’re in your own world, thoughts filled with nothing but sinful honey and him. You whimper as he rubs your clit faster and faster, your thighs beginning to close to lock his fingers in place.

“Jungkook,” You moan, cheeks heating up at the pitchiness of your voice. Jungkook hums in response, only pressing his lips to your neck and his other hand to your chest. You push back against him harshly, back pressed into his chest as if you’re trying to mold yourself into him.

You writhe in his hold, not used to the feeling of his long, thick fingers rubbing your folds. Jungkook pushes a finger into your throbbing pussy once you’re slick and you shiver, a broken sort of noise escaping your lips. Your moans are loud, and Jungkook is pleased but he presses his lips to yours to swallow your soft noises.

Your grip around his wrist is tight, as if to tether yourself to him. “Hey,” Jungkook says softly, nipping at your earlobe again, “Look, baby. Watch me, look how your pussy was made for me. You’re so wet, sweet girl…”

Glancing down to where his fingers were gliding in and out of your wetness easily, you let out another choked noise. He slips another finger into your pussy and you let out a shuddering gasp of his name, your nails digging into his wrist. The lewd sounds of his fingers in your wetness fills your bedroom and if you weren’t so consumed by thoughts of him, you might be almost embarrassed.

“Kook,” You mumble, your hips grinding into his touch to feel as much of him as you can, “Kook, feels so good…” You snake a hand behind you to sink into his dark hair and tug lightly, pulling a soft groan from him.

“Good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, “My good girl, my dream girl-”

Another rush of wetness floods his fingers at his words and he smirks into your sweaty skin. Your ass is pressed up against his hardened cock, but he wants to make you feel good first. He can worry about himself later. He bucks his hips into your ass and you push back at the feel of his clothed cock against you.

Your thighs begin to shake, a coil beginning to snap in your belly. It’s more powerful than it’s ever been- your own fingers had never brought you to the edge like this.

“You’re close, right?” Jungkook nearly slurs, high off of the sound of your noises, “My pretty girl’s gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You tug his hair harder and nod furiously, hips still bucking into his fingers. It only takes a few more rubs of your clit and pumps of his fingers for you to gasp and arch your back off of his chest. Jungkook immediately plasters his lips to yours to silence the sound of you cumming.

He’ll have to hear them fully. He needs to. But not tonight.

You pull away to gasp for air and your chest is heaving, eyes wide at the force of your orgasm from just his fingers alone. “Jungkook,” You mumble, wanting to see him. You turn in his hold, finally facing him and he’s just as lust blown as you.

You give him a lazy smile and wrap your arms around him, nosing at his neck. Before he can say anything to you, you roll your hips into his, meeting his clothed hardness. Jungkook drops his head against the headboard, groaning softly. His hands are planted firmly on your bare hips and you seemingly don’t mind that he’s fully clothed while you’re not.

“Rock with me, baby,” He murmurs, burying his face in your chest. Your legs are on either side of his hips and you comply easily, your breath hitching when he kisses marks soothingly over your breasts.

You wonder if you’re about to have the pleasure of seeing Jungkook cum again- it’s always beautiful, like the rest of him. Your hips feel like home to him, he squeezes and swats your ass gently. You only grin at him, pressing your forehead to his. His eyes nearly close in pleasure but he keeps them open, wanting to see you moving with him. A wet spot forms on his boxers from both of your arousals and he knows he’s about to cum soon-

And you do, too. 

“Y’r g’nna make me cum in my pants, like I’m fifteen,” Jungkook pants, eyes straining to stay open to watch you.

“Or like you’re twenty-one and you’re obsessed with your mentor,” You breathe, earning yourself a pinch to your waist, “Kook, ‘m close again…” You never cum this quickly after the first time. Jungkook brings out the best parts of you, it seems.

“Me too, baby,” He grunts into your skin, harshly covering your lips with his own. A spark blooms in your belly, slowly spreading and warming you up from within. It’s much slower and less intense than your first orgasm, but just as delicious. You’re sensitive as he rocks his hips into yours and you whine softly at the feeling.

You move to sit on his thigh and your hands shake for a moment before scratching his chest with your freshly done nails. Then his abs. Then his navel. 

“Can I?” You mumble.

“Can you what, baby?” Jungkook asks, amusement still in his eyes. You huff. He’s really going to make you say it.

“Wanna feel you, baby,” You murmur, meeting his eyes, “Wanna feel your cock in my hand-”

“‘M yours, pretty girl,” He replies easily, taking your wrist in his hand. You palm him from outside his boxers and you both groan- you from how big he is, and him from how warm your hand feels against him.

You shyly dip your hand down the waistband of his boxers but he stops you for a second. He wordlessly moves you from his thigh to the bed to slip out of his boxers so that he’s bare to you as well. After all, it’s only fair.

You can’t stop the soft gasp that leaves your lips or the way that your eyes zero in on his leaking cock. He’s so big in your hands and you can’t help but lick your dry, parched lips. Your cheeks are warm and for once, you have nothing to say- no quip, no snarky remark. 

You tug on his shirt impatiently- how had you allowed him to be wearing clothes for this long? Pulling his shirt off of him and tossing it to the floor, you allow yourself the luxury of letting your hands roam his honeyed skin. He’s somehow both cut and soft, tight and supple.

Despite the number of times you’ve seen him like this, you can never get used to it. Even if it’s not the first time his cock is hot and heavy in your hands, you can’t help but trace his tattoos with your free hand and feel a little in over your head.

“Kook,” You murmur, curling close into his side and drawing your knees up to your chest, “Baby, teach me.”

Jungkook groans, the sincerity in your voice making his stomach flip. He takes your hand and squeezes before guiding you to the tip of his reddened cock. You experimentally palm his cock, smearing his leaking pre-cum over his cock and he gasps, burying his face in your shoulder.

You stroke him slowly, watching and listening for his breaths. They’re heavy against your skin and he tightens his grip around your waist, trying to melt into you. 

“Faster, baby,” Jungkook says, his voice wrecked, “‘m so close-”

You pump him faster in your hands, making sure to be gentle with your grip. Jungkook looks down, marvelling at how big he looks in your hands. 

“Am I doing okay, Jungkook?” You whisper, dark eyes wide and unsure. With hooded eyes, he groans and kisses you, and you feel his moans vibrating through your body. He’s so close- he can feel himself starting to come undone, and with another few pumps, he comes all over your hand. Some of his cum splatters on his belly but he pays it no mind, only focusing on regulating his breaths. Without thinking, you lick at the tips of your fingers and swallow the little bit of his cum that landed on your hands. 

“I’ll go get a tissue to clean you up,” You whisper, searching for your shirt. When you find it, you stand up on shaky legs, only for him to yank you back towards the bed.

“Jungkook,” You scold lightly, and he presses his face into your belly.

“You believe me when I say you’re my dream girl,” Jungkook murmurs, ignoring your noise of protest. He looks up at you with bright, sparkling eyes. You swallow nervously, unable to handle the sudden bubbling of adoration you hold for this man.

“Put your boxers on, Jeon,” You mumble, pushing yourself off of him. You hear him laugh fondly. He knows you too well, he knows you’re repeating his words in your head. You emerge from the bathroom, looking a little unsure but still determined. Your hands tremble a little as you attempt to clean him up and he covers your hand with his own to guide you. Jungkook watches you flit around the room before standing up and tugging his boxers on.

He stands up and wraps his arms around your waist, his hands dipping under your shirt. Being in his arms immediately calms you down in gentle waves. He’s become such a calming pillar, a welcomed force in your life. You don’t think even your wildest, most romantic dreams could have ever conjured up someone like him.

Maybe he’s your dream boy, too.

Jungkook drops a kiss to your cheek, walking you back to the bed and laying you on top of it. He pulls the covers up over both of you and is half on top of you. You lean in for a kiss, stars shining in your eyes as you look at him. His legs tangle with yours when he meets your lips and pulls you in close.

“Goodnight,” You whisper when you pull away, “I think you’re my dream boy that I didn’t know I was dreamin’ about.”

With that, you turn your head so he doesn’t see how flustered you are. Your cheeks meet the cool material of your pillow and you pretend not to hear his low chuckle. He only squeezes your waist and murmurs a soft ‘goodnight’ to you.

You’d submitted your application for the associate director position that Hae-Ri had recommended you to apply to. You’d already had the first round of interviews, with the person who would be your direct manager and with Hae-Ri herself. And then you had another interview with Hyo-Jin.

You felt at ease and it felt more like a conversation than an actual interview. Which Jungkook and Jin tell you is because you made the smart decision to get to know them both months ago, before you decided you wanted a shift in your career.

But then Hae-Ri dropped the bombshell on you after the series of interviews. To be in the position, she recommended you finish your masters program at the graduate school you dropped out of (or any grad school that had the same degree). She said the company would pay for it and you could do it while you worked.

But still. It left a sour, angry taste in your mouth.

Jungkook knows, somewhere in the back of his mind. That the words that are about to spill out of his mouth are going to upset you. But he says them anyway, because he thinks you need to hear them-

“If Hae-Ri said that she had a spot for you if you went back to school while working for her,” Jungkook says slowly, “Then isn’t it a no brainer? Your boss sucks, you complain about him and you deserve-”

“Back to school?” You scoff, “Everyone’s gonna be so much younger than me-”

“What does that matter? It’s just a year, and you’ll have your masters degree! Yeah, it’ll be hard to do it with work but you can-”

“I don’t wanna go back!” You exclaim (maybe a little childishly), and cross your arms over your chest. Annoyance seeps into you and you try your best not to get irritated at Jungkook. You know there is truth in his words but you don’t want to hear it just yet.

You’re not ready to face school again. You’re not ready to be at the same place that you had found out Appa had passed away. You’re not ready. Or are you?

“Why not! You don’t need to go back right away, Hae-Ri said-”

“I know what she said,” You say sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose with your brows furrowed, “You don’t need to repeat to me what she said, Jungkook.”

“I don’t understand,” Jungkook says flatly.

You start to notice his eyes losing its usual warmth, reminding you of the days when he would look at you so coldly.

You shiver. He instinctively reaches for you and you let him hold you close for a minute.

But the words come tumbling out of you, your cheeks blazing and ears burning, before you can stop them. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” You mutter and he drops his hand from your waist as if he’s been burned.

Ice crawls through your veins, dousing you in something cold and unforgiving. You’re hurting him (again), and you can’t stop yourself. You can hardly stand yourself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jungkook whispers, looking a little lost and a little heartbroken.

“It means you wouldn’t understand being too unable to take care of yourself to go to school,” You say, eyes narrow and jaw steeled, “It means everything’s come easy to you, Jungkook- fucking school, this fucking job-”

“That’s not fucking fair,” Jungkook says with a frown, “You’re deflecting and you’re being mean-”

You laugh. Mirthlessly. The hollowness seeping into your eyes makes Jungkook’s skin crawl.

“That’s me, baby. All I’m good at is deflecting and being mean. You haven’t caught on yet?”

“Stop,” Jungkook says firmly, hurt seeping into his voice as he levels his watery gaze at you, “You’re pushing me away. Stop it, baby.”

“Am I wrong?” You sneer, pressing your nails into your biceps. It hurts. You’re hurting him, it’s hurting you and you can’t stop running your mouth. You can’t stop the acid on your tongue or the daggers in your eyes.

You’re reacting this way just from the mere mention of going back to school. Pathetic.

“You have an opportunity to move ahead and you’re being stubborn about it because you don’t want to go back to school? I’m sure there are a lot of fucking hard memories associated with grad school but don’t take that out on me for wanting better for you,” Jungkook says coldly. While his eyes are icy, you still see the shine of unshed tears in them.

“I’m not being stubborn-”

“From all of this, that’s your response? That you’re not being stubborn?” Jungkook struggles not to raise his voice at you, feeling his chest burn with hurt.

“What else do you want me to say, Jungkook?” You throw your hands up in frustration, “I can’t make you understand-”

“I’m not telling you to make me understand,” Jungkook says, “I’m telling you to consider your future and your capabilities, you’re the one who fucking complains about work all the time-”

“Oh, well, sorry that we can’t be everyone’s fucking golden boy at work-”

“If you’re not gonna do anything about it, then don’t fucking complain-”

“Seriously? I can’t complain to my boyfriend now?”

“You’re missing the point, baby,” Jungkook sighs in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I can’t talk to you right now, not when you refuse to listen, and when you’re being spiteful.”

“W-what? What does that mean?” You say, nearly all of the fire extinguished from your belly at his words. He starts to put his jacket on, unable to look you in the eyes because if he does, he knows he’ll cry.

“W-wait, Jungkook,” You mumble, tugging his hand but he pulls it back as if you’ve burned him again, “Baby-”

“I can’t-” He squeezes his eyes shut, not noticing a few tears leak out. Your heart breaks in front of you- clearly you were too wrapped up in your own spiral of defense to realize how much your words were hurting him. “I don’t wanna be around you right now. Not if you’re gonna hurt me like this.”

“I’m-”

“I know you didn’t mean it, but you said it for a reason,” Jungkook says. His words make you tear up. “We can talk when you figure out why.”

“Jungkook,” You mumble, wanting to touch him but afraid he’ll reject you again, “Wait, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

He looks at you long and hard, heart cracking a little bit at the sight of your sad eyes. But you did this and you need to figure out why you were so defensive over going back to school. He deserves better than you lashing out at him for the mere mention of it. He knows it and you know it.

Jungkook wants to kiss your tears away, but he’s hurting, too.

You want to ask for a kiss, for a text when he gets home. But you don’t, and he’s almost out of the front door before he turns on his heel and brushes his lips over your hair. 

You feel salty tears drop from your eyes with his touch as he leaves you with an unspoken ultimatum.

You end up texting Jungkook an hour after he left your house, just wanting to make sure he got home safely. It takes him ten minutes from when you sent the text for him to respond with a simple ‘yes’ and you’re too nervous to text him anything other than a simple ‘okay’.

You hold your head in your hands and groan to yourself, rubbing your temples. 

How could you say the things you said to him so easily, without regard for how it might hurt him? Just because the topic of school always set you off- and it always has for the last five years and change. No matter how much time has gone by, how far you’ve come in therapy… there’s always something.

You bury yourself under your covers and sniffle, finally letting yourself cry. A hole starts to unzip inside your chest and all you want to do is bury yourself in it. Your words to him, to the man who always has treated you with nothing but kindness and smiles, ring heavy in your ears.

He’s too good for you. He’s too good for you- he’s too golden and good for you. You’ll only bring him down, won’t you? With all of this baggage that he didn’t sign up for. There was no reason for you to verbally spit in his face like that.

His cold, hurt eyes are haunting. You can’t believe you put that look on his face. You’ve been on the receiving end of it because of your own actions too many times now.

It makes your heart ache and it makes you cry harder into your pillow. You don’t know how long it is that you lay there, but at some point, Grandma crawls into your bed with you and holds your head in her lap. She rubs your back as you cry and sniffle your heart out.

By the time Grandma gently coaxes you to tell her what happened, your chest hurts and your eyes are puffy and rimmed red. She only sighs and lays with you in silence, until she sighs again in that way that you know she’s going to voice her opinion to you.

“He only wants you to have a future that you deserve, even if that means confronting things you don’t want to confront,” Grandma says wisely, “Even if you don’t want to hear it for him.”

“I know. Shit, I know. I hurt him, I hurt him bad,” You mumble, fresh tears pooling in your eyes at the thought of his big, brown eyes looking at you in that heartbroken way.

Another forlorn sigh. “You can fix it. Just talk to him, sweetheart.”

“I know. I will. I don’t think he wants to talk to me right now. I think I should have a therapy appointment first,” You groan, rubbing your eyes, “I don’t know why the thought of school sets me off so easily. And Kook is the last person… I hate that I hurt him.”

“I think you know why the thought of school sets you off,” Grandma says, giving you a knowing look.

It takes you a few days of self reflection (and actively not spiraling into the very tempting black hole of self loathing) to finally understand your reaction to Jungkook suggesting you go back to school. 

It’s not like you haven’t had a similar explosive reaction before- Jin has always tiptoed about it with you. And Grandma has stopped bringing it up because you always shut down when the topic arises.

Perhaps now is a good time to examine why- after all, you’d only hurt your boyfriend’s feelings so much that he can barely stand to speak to you apparently. You both have been speaking normally, sharing chaste kisses when you can but you can tell he’s holding back a little, to give you both the space you need.

It’s only been a few days but you’re so sad without him. Knowing that you hurt him the way you did.

Jungkook feels like he overreacted a bit. He doesn’t want you to figure this out alone- he didn’t mean to just leave. But he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand how… mean you were being. Mostly, he couldn’t stand how he knew you were doing it on purpose, to get him to drop the topic.

He hopes you can come to an understanding with yourself. But he wants you to lean on him when you need to as well.

So when you text him asking if you can come over later that evening, he immediately says yes.

You don’t text Jungkook when you arrive, only knocking at his door. He greets you with surprised eyes and pulls you inside immediately, pulling you into a tight hug right away.

He feels as if it’s been forever since he held you last.

“Hi, honey,” You mumble, feeling tired with longing, “These are for you.” 

It’s a bouquet of some of his favorite flowers, his favorite purples and pinks in your hands and he wants to kiss you in gratitude, but he follows your lead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jungkook replies and takes your bag after putting the flowers in a vase and takes your hand, leading you to his bedroom. You feel a little nervous, afraid of how much you might have hurt him. Afraid of what he thinks of you now.

But he pulls you into his arms and cradles your face in his hands, the tips of his fingers melting into the warmth of your skin. Your eyes well up with tears for no reason and it stuns you that this man affects you to this degree. Maybe you should be a little more surprised, but you’re not. Not really.

“Hi, baby,” He says quietly and your heart seizes. Jungkook says your name again and pulls you into his chest for another longer hug and you hum into the warmth of his torso. Your hands are hesitant, yearning to touch his arms, his chest, his face. But you have a lot you want to say before any of that so you pull away reluctantly and sit on his bed.

“C’mon, let’s lay,” Jungkook murmurs, pushing his black and grey duvet and squeezing your hand. You feel a little lightheaded but you follow his lead, relaxing in his embrace as he cuddles you from behind. His chin is hooked over your shoulder, arms tight around your waist, lips brushing over your neck. You hold his tattooed forearm, mindlessly drawing lines and circles over his skin.

“I have to say something,” You finally mumble after a few minutes and turn in his arms to face him. His touch is never too far, always around you- always gravitating to you and making you feel warm and safe.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, eyes wider than you’ve possibly ever seen him. You can’t help but want to kiss him, but you hold back. Just until you say what you need to say.

His hands are soothing over your back as he encourages you. So you tell him- you tell him how your last therapy appointment went. You tell him how you’ve reacted this way to anyone who bothered to bring school up to you whether it’s Jin or Grandma. You tell him how the thought of graduate school instantly takes you back to the day you were in class and you received a phone call from the hospital telling you that your father had passed away. 

You tell him how sometimes it feels like you’re living in a movie, a never-ending reel of the worst thing to happen in your near 30 years of life. But…

“It doesn’t feel so terrible these days,” You murmur, “It feels like an ache most times. But not as overwhelming as before… I think maybe I didn’t- I didn’t handle my grief in the best way. And it took me this long to realize it.

“You know, I started realizing it when I saw you that first day. In the office. When I was such a bitch to you-”

Jungkook stops the self-deprecating spill of your lips with a chaste kiss.

“You… you’ve changed me in a lot of ways, Jungkook. And I know we haven’t been together all that long,” You whisper, your voice choked and low, “I always want to be better for you, with you-”

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as your throat closes up. This is hard for you, to bare your heart out like this. But if there’s anyone you want to be vulnerable for, it’s Jungkook.

“What I’m trying to say is… you’re right. I can’t keep living in the past when I have opportunities to be better and it’ll be hard work to dissect those feelings but… I want to do it. And I’m sorry for what I said, for taking all of that out on you. You didn’t deserve that-”

“I’m sorry, too,” Jungkook murmurs, surprising you, “For telling you that you shouldn’t complain. Of course you should complain. And I want to be the one you complain to. I’m sorry for just… leaving when you were clearly going through something.”

“Jungkook, no,” You shake your head and push his hair back, thumbs gentle over his cheeks, “If you need space from me or for anything… you never need to feel bad or guilty for that.”

“Okay,” He says almost shyly, “I know it must have been hard to talk about this. So, I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, but… I want to make this work with you more than I’m afraid of facing those memories and fears. And just in general, I mean, I just want to try to be better. And you’re worth it, Koo-”

He holds your face in his hands, eyes drawn to yours- stars meeting stars and you sink into his sheets at the calm, welcoming fire in his gaze. His lips are on yours before you can blink, swallowing any potential noise of protest that might come out of your mouth.

It’s only been a few days but you missed Jungkook, you missed his warm smile, the heat of his hands, the comfort of his broad shoulders and the way he fits against you. His nose is pressed to your neck, large hands instantly floating under your shirt to feel as much of you as he can.

“Koo,” You mumble, pushing lightly at his chest, “Are we okay? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth. He tastes a bit like his mango chapstick (his current favorite). He leaves his lips near yours, pressing his cheek to yours as much as he can. You thread your fingers through his hair, dancing along his scalp and he sighs contentedly. “We’re okay and I’m okay. I wanna be here with you while we get through this together. Are you okay?”

You hum in agreement and wrap a leg around his waist, suddenly feeling very, very tired. His shirt is loose in your grip- he can tell how exhausted you are. Because he’s exhausted, too. Jungkook only holds you close under his covers and waits for your breaths to even out before falling asleep, too.

When August comes around, the final workshop for the big submission does, too. The last workshop will take place in Tokyo, which you’re excited about. Because you and Jungkook had decided to go to Tokyo to spend the weekend together. Meaning you’d be leaving on Friday evening to reach Tokyo around 9:30 PM.

You’d made sure Grandma would be okay, insisting that she call you or call Seokjin if anything happened. She scoffs at you but reassures you that she will. She says she’ll be spending most of her time with her close friends in the area, anyway.

You’ve only been dating Jungkook for four or five months now, and teetering on the edge of something more for maybe six months. You wonder if it feels too fast- the speed with which you open your bleeding heart up to him should scare you, but it doesn’t. It feels natural with him. 

You’ve both voiced your concerns to each other- fear that you were moving fast and would tire of each other. Or that you were moving too fast to properly assess your feelings.

But both of you agreed that you both felt comfortable and trusted each other enough to speak up if you were uncomfortable. So traveling together for a weekend didn’t feel terribly out of your comfort zone.

You were excited to be with him completely alone, too. Without the stress of work or Taehyung or Grandma to hear you.

Jungkook thinks you both need time alone, too. To see how you’d work as a pair. 

You’d taken it upon yourself to plan a few things around Tokyo for the weekend. You wanted to take him to a few places that Appa used to take you to. Maybe it was too much for a fresh relationship, but you want him to see the parts of you that grew up here, too.

You feel incredibly exposed, your heart and soul on display as you hold Jungkook’s hand in yours. Old memories of Appa and of this park spill from your lips fondly and Jungkook only listens with wide, sparkling eyes. Vulnerability drips from your tongue and he swallows it up eagerly.

A light breeze ruffles through his hair and you stop him mid-stride to stand by the lake. The clear water glimmers with the sun, blue and purple petals floating over the water slowly. You lean over the railing and Jungkook encases you with his arms on either side of you, his chest pressed to your back.

“We used to fly kites here,” You say wistfully, “Right over there-”

You point at the other side of the lake where trees shroud the corners with brightly colored leaves. “And always get food from the food carts right outside the park.

“And this is where I was that one time we were here for the workshop. I came here before that happy hour, too.”

Jungkook kisses your cheek and you lean back, letting your head rest over his shoulder as his arms snake around your waist. There’s nobody around, even though it’s relatively early in the morning. The only sounds that can be heard are your own breaths, and the softness of the birds chirping and the wind whistling.

“The happy hour when the night before I hurt your feelings,” You murmur, “I’m sorry I said everything I said to you. And I’m so sorry I was so… mean and bitter to you in the beginning. You didn’t deserve that.”

You turn in his arms, wanting to see him, and cup his cheek. Letting your thumb trace the mole below his lip and over his cheeks.

“I’m scared,” You confess, “I’m scared that I’ll ruin you and break your heart. Because I’m still in pieces sometimes. I like you so much but shouldn’t I seek love from someone else only after I learn to love myself?”

“I can love you as you learn,” Jungkook murmurs, kissing your forehead, “Self-love doesn’t mean you don’t have to accept love from others, baby.”

Another strong breeze tickles your face, caressing Jungkook almost tenderly. “Sometimes I like to pretend like winds like that are Appa and he’s saying hello,” You say sheepishly with a watery laugh, “I think he likes you.

“I’m scared, Jungkook. But I want to be scared with you,” You exhale, tears dotting your eyes and a small smile on your face. 

Jungkook pulls you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly and rubbing your back soothingly. “‘M gonna take care of your heart, princess. You’re always safe with me.”

You immediately burst into tears, because you trust him with your soft heart and you believe him. He only smiles at you, tears rolling down his own cheeks as he thumbs yours away. Jungkook kisses you softly, squeezing your cheeks together and you can taste the saltiness of your tears on your tongue. You deepen the kiss quickly, pouring all of your trust and respect for him onto your lips.

He drinks you up easily and bends his knees a bit to scoop you by your thighs and lift you up, even spinning you a bit as his lips stay pressed to yours. You pull away first with a dazed, watery giggle and push his hair away from his forehead to press a kiss there.

You feel weightless and airy in his arms, your hands steady on his shoulders as he spins with you.

You could love this man- you already love his wide, crinkly-eyed smile, the way the tips of his ears turn pink when you fluster him, the way he is so considerate and charming. 

“Jungkook,” You mumble, pushing his hair back again, “Take me back to our hotel, baby.”

Jungkook can’t keep his hands off of you, not with the dim lights of the hotel lobby making your hair shine, not when you stand in front of him in the elevator and lean into him as his arm lazily wraps around your waist to pull you closer. His nose tickles your neck as he drops kisses to your cheek, smiling against your skin when you laugh lightly. 

The elevator dings. You both stumble out, holding hands as if you’re love drunk on each other and it’s not 7:30 in the morning.

You push him against the door once you key yourself inside, impatient and hands wandering. A choked noise escapes his lips but it melts into a moan when you press into him. 

Jungkook can’t keep his hands off of you, not with the way you breathe his name out as if it’s spicy honey on your tongue. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he holds you by your thighs, his hands digging into them. You’re secure in his arms- the fact that he can hold you up so steadily, so easily has you rolling your hips into his and moaning into his mouth unashamedly.

“Shit,” Jungkook groans into your ear, a little desperate, “I want you so bad, baby.”

You hum in agreement, lips pressed to the spot behind his ear. The spot that you had quickly discovered in your relationship that he liked. He stumbles for half a second before dropping you to the large bed and hovering over you.

Jungkook impatiently tugs at your blouse, trying his best to unbutton it as carefully as possible. He curses under his breath, shooting you a playful glare when you giggle at him. He unclasps your bra easily and once you shuck it off to the side, his mouth is warm and wet against your bare chest. Your giggles turn into soft sighs of his name.

Ever since he had realized how much you like the feeling of his mouth on your tits, he couldn’t get enough. You’re so sensitive, almost all the time, and this time is no different.

You always try to push him away but coax him back for more.

Your small hands are ghosting over his chest, glazing over the ridges and dips of his abs and of his pecs. You tug on his shirt and pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the side to join your own clothes. His fingers are heated as you lightly scratch over the trail of hair dipping into his shorts from his navel, but you only tease him and palm him through his clothes.

You’re so impatient. You unbutton his shorts clumsily and gently yank his boxers and his shorts down his thighs, always surprised that he’s almost completely hard already. But it doesn’t take much for him to get hard with you. 

You spit into your hands and wrap a hand around his cock, lazily stroking him.

Jungkook’s eyes are wide, breaths staggered at the sight of your freshly painted glossy lilac nails around his cock. 

“Koo,” You mumble, “So big, Koo…”

Your face is warm as you meet his darkened, lust blown eyes. Jungkook catches the sliver of determination in your own eyes as you continue to stroke him- you’re determined to have him in your mouth.

The last few times you’ve tried haven’t gone so well- every time you’d tried taking him in your mouth, you’ve always coughed and gagged heavily to the point of your eyes watering and Jungkook felt bad and told you that you didn’t have to blow him.

“You don’t- oh, baby,” Jungkook groans, biting his bottom lip and struggling not to close his eyes when you take him past your lips. You try your best to control your breathing through your nose and alternate between teasing him with kitten licks and stroking him.

You look up at him from your spot on your knees and take him a little deeper, just like he taught you. Your eyes are already watering, vision starting to go blurry but you’re nothing if not determined. Your hands are loose around his strong, muscular thighs and you squeeze.

“Like that, princess,” Jungkook mumbles, watching you with half lidded eyes, trying to stop himself from fucking your mouth.

But maybe you want that.

“More tongue, baby,” Jungkook encourages, “Don’t forget to breathe through your nose.”

You hum around his cock, the sound inadvertently causing him to thrust into your mouth. But you squeeze his thighs in encouragement, wordlessly telling him that he can fuck your mouth if he wants to.

“Mmm, you feel so good,” Jungkook moans, hand cradling your cheek and wiping a stray tear, “Look so pretty like this…”

“You can take me, princess,” Jungkook murmurs, and you take a few more inches of him down your throat without gagging, “Good girl…”

Your belly flips at his praise and you’re eager for more to spill from his pretty, reddened lips. Jungkook curses, his voice low as his thighs tremble with each stroke of your hand and each pull of your mouth. He can’t get enough of you like this, you on your knees with wide, watery eyes just for him. Just for him.

His dream girl.

Jungkook abruptly pushes you away from his cock, saliva trailing from your lips with a pop! You look at him in confusion but he unbuttons your shorts quickly and tugs your panties away, hardly appreciating the new pretty purple panties you’d bought specifically for this trip. You hardly have an opportunity to pout about it, before he sharply kisses you, molding his hips to yours.

He swipes his hand over your pussy, getting a feel for your wetness. You’re so wet already, just from kissing him and from having his cock in your mouth.

Jungkook groans into your neck, biting your skin lightly and you gasp when he slides into your wet warmth easily. Wrapping your legs around his waist and reaching behind him to squeeze his ass, you kiss moans of his name into his heated skin.

“Koo,” You mumble raspily, breath hitching when he stills inside you, “I want you-”

“Gonna take care of you, my dream girl,” Jungkook says softly, cupping your face. Your heart stutters in your chest at the sincerity of his kiss, the stars in his eyes and the adoration in his touch. 

Something sweet is at the tip of your tongue but you swallow it down, instead losing yourself in his touch along your hips, your tits, your thighs. Anywhere he can reach you.

Jungkook presses his forehead to yours and rocks into you, again and again and again.

“One more, princess,” Jungkook says hoarsely, thumbing away your stray tears, “Gimme one more-”

You whine but it quickly turns into a broken moan of his name when he gently rolls his hips into yours and rubs your clit with his thumb. Your eyes are glazed over but focused on him, a thin sheen of sweat coated over your soft skin.

“I can’t…” You mumble, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and turning your face to the side. But you both know that you can. Jungkook’s eyes dip to the place where you’re both connected in between your legs and marvels at your puffy pussy. You widen your legs further despite the slight soreness already settling in for him to get a better look. His fingers ghost over your pussy and you shiver at the oversensitivity that his mere touch brings.

“Yes, baby, you can,” Jungkook says softly, “Nice and slow, just like this.”

“O-okay,” You reply, tipping your chin up for a kiss. You feel like jelly, like you’re floating on a cloud, with Jungkook right by your side. When you finally do cum, with soft, sinful murmurs of his voice in your ear, it’s quiet and warm. Leaving you buzzing from head to toe.

You clench around him, the feeling of his cock inside you becoming almost too much to bear. But you don’t want him to pull out, just yet. After all, your baby hasn’t cum and you can feel how hard he is.

“Koo,” You murmur, threading your nails up and down his very defined back, “Baby, you feel so good, make me feel so good…”

You won’t lie, sometimes the dirty talk feels clumsy to you as it comes out of your mouth. You think Jungkook is better at it than you are, and you’ve told him that, too. He only denies it.

You pull him down closer to you, your breath fanning across his cheeks. You squeeze around him despite your own sensitivity and he groans out loud, eyes closed. Jungkook sits you up and brings you into his lap with his cock still inside of you, throbbing with the need to cum.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers gentle against his scalp. You lean forward and nip his earlobe, giggling when his hips stutter. Your mischievous touch dips down his chest, scratching at his navel.

Jungkook abruptly cums into the condom, possibly harder than he ever has, with your gentle, feathery touches and your soft murmurs in his ear. He moans your name and holds you close, arms tight around you and keeping you plastered against his chest as he rides his high out.

“Holy shit,” You breathe with a slow smile. Jungkook hums and lays you on your back, laying with you for a second before pulling out of you and discarding the condom on shaky legs. You’d make a comment about how cute his ass looks, but you’re too tired to. You get cozy under the covers, watching him flit around the room with sleepy eyes. 

It’s hardly ten AM and you’re ready to go back to sleep.

You must have drifted off at some point, because Jungkook is wrapped around you, his head on your chest. He’d cleaned you up, too and you drowsily kiss his forehead before slipping back to sleep.

After all, the rest of the weekend is still yours. Work doesn’t begin in Tokyo until Monday.

tags: @koo-zy

[alittlextrathatway]

Penelope/Colin: “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

YAY SOMETHING BESIDES BRETTSEY. (Not that I don’t love them.) I’ve never written Polin before! I’m excited to play! 🙌🏻 Thank you!

How about a modern AU for this one? Just cause.

******

It all started because of the pandemic.

He’d been perfectly happy traveling. It’s not like he had anything else to occupy his time. He wasn’t particularly talented and he didn’t have any hobbies or interests. Aside from eating but he doubted his mother would approve of him becoming one of those professional hot dog eaters and he didn’t care enough for the piddly portions of fine dining to become a food critic.

The only thing that truly distracts him from his lack of drive or ambition is traveling — learning about the world and it’s many cultures.

He has journal after journal full of his discoveries and experiences. Travel is really his only love.

Which is why he’d stopped and started his studies so many times. He took a year between high school and college to backpack through Europe. Then another year after freshman year to “study abroad”, not that he actually studied. Which is why his mother forced him to come back and finish his third year stateside. After that, he’d set off traveling again. Every year he found another excuse not to come home for any longer than a month or two, allowing him to put off his final year.

It’s not as if he’s getting a degree in anything useful. He’s an English major. And it’s not as if his career isn’t already decided for him. Upon graduation he’ll be given an office at Bridgerton Family Publishing. Doing what? Well, no one knows. Not even him.

So, what’s the rush?

He’d still be gone abroad right now if not for COVID forcing him to return home. God, he hates 2020. What a waste of a year. He came home too late for the spring 2020 term so he’s spent the last several months going absolutely crazy.

He’s a man of the world who is not being allowed to go out and see it. He can’t imagine anything more cruel.

Actually, no, he takes that back. There’s one thing:

Using the time he’s forced to stay in Mayfair to discover he’s completely and stupidly in love with his little sister’s best friend.

The friend who overheard him, last time he was home for any considerable length of time, declaring to his brothers that he would never be interested in her.

Because, of course, Colin Bridgerton is a colossal jackass who doesn’t know a good thing when it’s been staring him in the face his entire life.

There’s laughter coming from the direction of the foyer. Very distinctive laughing. One high and tinkling like a pretty little bell and the other deeper and hoarser. The alto to the other’s soprano. The alto in this case is his younger sister, Eloise, and the soprano is Penelope.

The woman he should have noticed long before now.

He gets up from where he’s lounging on the sofa, mournfully watching the Travel Channel, and takes his plate full of sandwiches with him.

He finds them giggling and applying lipstick in the mirror by the front door. They look dressed to go out. Eloise in her slick tailored pant suit and intricately adorned lace top, in monochromatic lavender. And Penelope in…

Holy shit, what is that?

Apparently, it’s the instrument of his imminent death if the erratic beating of his heart is any indication. He’s going to have some sort of attack and go into cardiac arrest right here in the foyer of his childhood home.

It’s a tight forest green dress that has an off the shoulder neckline. It hugs her curves so perfectly that he thinks someone must have sewn it onto her. It shows the perfect amount of skin along her neck and shoulders, giving just a tiny glimpse of cleavage.

And she’s had a haircut since she was here yesterday. Her ginger locks now rest against her cheeks in a wavy stylish bob. She was beautiful before. He was never blind to that as some other people around Pen have proven to be, but now...

She’s absolutely stunning.

So stunning that other people will surely see what he sees. And he’s grateful for that, truly. She deserves to be seen as she is — brilliant and beautiful — but that means he’s about to have competition while trying to win her over. And he is not grateful for that.

He’s been trying to be more forward with her when they’re alone but that doesn’t happen often and he’s not sure Penelope takes him very seriously. (No one does.) She seems to always be in disbelief when he flirts with her.

“Where are you two off to?” He asks, leaning against the wall opposite the mirror.

“Double date,” Eloise says, fluffing her hair in the mirror. “Pen arranged it. She met someone extremely gorgeous at the library today.”

Penelope blushes and grins demurely. “It’s the magic of a fresh cut,” she says motioning to her new hair. “He was there with his friend and we were all scrambling for resources for our bibliographies together and he asked if I wanted to get dinner and I asked if Eloise could come. No big deal.”

“It doesn’t look as if it’s not a big deal,” Colin observes, his gaze sweeping over Penelope from head to toe.

“His father owns that new super exclusive restaurant Kate’s been begging Anthony to take her too. You know, La Table Gourmande?” Eloise explains.

“The one that told Anthony the next available reservation was in two months? That restaurant?” Colin asks, trying not to scowl.

Really, there was no need for this guy to show off. He seems a bit full of himself.

“That’s the one,” Penelope replies with a nod. “He says he can get us the Chef’s table tonight. I’ve never done anything like that before. It sounds exciting. Might be the closest I ever get to authentic French cuisine. For a while anyway.”

Okay, so now he feels like a heel for wanting to keep her from going out. He knows he’s lucky his family is so well off. It allows him to travel. Penelope’s family, while not destitute, has spent most of their surplus funds putting three daughters, soon to be a fourth, through school. In fact, if not for a distant rich aunt who died they wouldn’t even have been able to afford that.

Any money Penelope used to travel would have to be her own, and he isn’t sure how much of that she has.

“Pen,” Eloise calls, interrupting Colin’s thoughts. “Have you seen my clutch? Did I bring it down?”

“I don’t see it anywhere,” Penelope says with a shake of her head. “Did you leave it on your dresser?”

Eloise groans in irritation, turning toward the main staircase of their massive house. “I guess I did. I’ll be right back.”

Finally, they’re alone. Colin clears his throat and sets the plate of sandwiches he’d been snacking on down on the hall table. He crosses the space until he’s standing mere inches away from her.

“Don’t go out tonight. I can take you somewhere else. Somewhere better,” Colin suggests.

“Better?” Penelope asks skeptically.

He nods. “I have a friend who opened a restaurant here that I met while I was in Nice. It’s smaller than that La Table Gourmand monstrosity and not quite considered fine dining but it’s real. It’s better. It’ll be closer to actually being in France than anything in that obnoxious place.”

“I don’t see why I can’t go with Marcus tonight and then you some other time,” she tells him, lifting one perfect brow and pursing her lips.

“This guy sounds like a prick,” Colin says with a scoff. “Bragging about his father’s connections on the first date? That’s not a good sign, Pen. Trust me, I know these things. I’m a guy.”

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug, a small knowing grin on her lips. “But I think I should decide that for myself. Don’t you?”

That grin…

She knows exactly what he’s trying to do.

She’s being difficult on purpose.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave,” she challenges him, continuing to grin smugly.

Well, if that’s the game she wants to play then so be it.

“Why waste a night figuring out what I already know when you could just let me take you out instead for what, we both know, would be a better time?” Colin asks, caressing the length of Penelope’s arm with a light tender touch.

She sucks in a breath at the contact, but doesn’t show any weakness in her expression. “Yes, but going out with Marcus would be a date that might actually lead to something. What would be the purpose of ditching a real date for you instead?”

“Oh, you want it to lead to something?” He asks, a smirk growing on his face as he backs her up toward the wall.

“Y—yes,” she stammers, her grin slipping as nerves shine in her eyes.

Her back hits the wall and he brings one hand to her cheek, cupping her face and trailing his thumb along her cheekbone.

He leans down, nearly closing the distance between them but stops just short of kissing her. “Come out with me, Pen, and you can choose where it leads. I’ll give you whatever future I have, even if I have no idea what it is. You set the terms, you call the shots.”

Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush but she instinctively leans into his hand. Call him a cocky bastard, but that’s the moment he knows he’s won. The moment he knows she’ll choose him.

“I set the terms?” She asks, biting her bottom lip while she stares at his.

He nods, waiting for the moment she leans up and kisses him.

“Well, then you know what I think?” She asks, rhetorically while she rests a hand on his chest.

“Tell me,” he pleads.

She smiles wickedly and pushes him away by one step. “I think you could do with some healthy competition.”

She sidesteps him and saunters off to the front door, leaving him gaping at her like a fool.

Like a besotted, astonished, completely smitten fool.

Eloise reappears, patting Colin’s shoulder as she follows after Penelope. “Tell mom we’ll be back late.”

They leave, the door shuts, and all he can think is…

Well played, Penelope Featherington.

But the Bridgertons are famously competitive and this game is only just beginning. He’ll win her over yet.

Wait and see.

[honeydew-mel0n]

A Very Pink Revenge

Dante has been pretty rude to his S/O, so, the reader takes things into their own hands. Well, theirs and Patty's. (Also on AO3)

Anime Dante x reader (Heaven in a Devil's Palm)

You have the luxury of knowing your boyfriends sleep schedule (or lack there of), as well as how deep of a sleeper he is. That information is dangerous. Especially after Dante decided to get on your nerves during your last job. Also equally as dangerous, you have access to a certain little girl who loves to give pink, frilly makeovers.

Sneaking Patty into the office wasnt the hard part, she somehow finds her way back in any time she wants, convincing her to let you do everything by her direction was. As someone who's had to endure her makeovers, you know she can be quite aggressive with putting in hair clips and aggressively rubbing makeup brushes all over your face. Dispite Dantes deep sleeping, you know it would wake him up instantly.

Patty leans against your side, holding into your sleeve with a vice grip. "Okay, blue eye shadow now." She whispers as you get a liberal amount of light blue powder on the brush, lightly sweeping it over his eyelids. You almost scream as his mouth opens, expecting one of his snarky comments to indicate the deep shit you'd be in. But instead your ears were greated with a light snore.

The two of you look at each other with a sigh of relief. Well, this will make it easier to apply lip stick. You finish up the eyeshadow, placing it back into your makeup back you grab a stunning red. It was your favorite, and for good reason. Cherry's in the Snow applied smoothly to this lightly chapped lips, thank god for its pigment.

A giggle is heard from below you and you cover her mouth, shooting her a scolding look. Patty nods and gestures to the black liquid liner in your bag. You nod back grabbing it and going to work. Kat Von D sucks as a person, but boy are you glad you were gifted this liner. Have fun getting this off babe.

You look back down and Patty puts her hand under her chin, nodding in approval. You lean down to her height, whispering. "Do you think we can get lashes on him, or just move onto your hair clips?" Her face lights up with a profound joy. "Lashes!" She whispers back.

You blow on the glue, waiting for it to get tacky. These were no weak thin lashes, absolutely not, okay this is a punishment. You place the thick, wing like lashes on your boyfriends eyelid then repeat. You take a step back to look at his beat face. The box of hair clips are inserted into your hands. You look at the obnoxiously pink clips and follow her directions once again.

You take a few photos before running to the couches, looking them over, the two of you giggling to yourselves. looking up, your boyfriend stirring in his chair, yeah, he's gonna be pissed.

Apon waking, Dantes face felt itchy. It usually does. Nothing to worry about. The entire shop was lit up in oranges as the sunset shown through the windows. A smile spreads on his face at the sight of you, with Patty against your chest. Both in a deep sleep. You've always been so good with her, with kids. He felt odd watching the two of you together, it made him long for something he didnt know.

You looked so sweet, the way the orange light made you glow.

Yeah, that's his angel.

He stands from his desk, stretching then walks to the bathroom, shutting the door before turning the light on. Both your and Pattys eyes shoot open, having been faking sleep, as a angry yell echos echoes throughout Devil May Cry. You grab her by the back of her dress and haul her out the door. "Go! I'll take the blame!" You slam the door shut and when you turn around he's already out of the bathroom. Storming your way.

"No I wont!" You throw back open the door only to have the back of your shirt grabbed. As you're yanked back, the door slams shut. You look up at him, those ice blue eyes holding only rage. You clear your throat, hoping to clear the air. "Hey baby, you look nice."

____

You sit, trembling, on his desk. Dante has never once put his hands on you, and never will. But you've seen what he's capable of, god he's kinda terrifying. The two of you sit, holding tense and uncomfortable eye contact. His tense shoulders slump with a sigh. "How do you get this shit off?" You let out a laugh, after all, that's all you can do when you're nervous. "Well, you can start by unclipping the hairpins."

He reaches up, tugging them through his hair, cringing at them as they pass through the tangles. "Oh my God, you know what?" You shove his hands away and start unclipped them yourself. "It wouldnt hurt as much if you brushed your hair more often." You mumble, which earns you a huff in response.

"Now whatever these heavy things on my eyes are." You cock an eyebrow. "You mean the lashes? Just pulled them off." He scoffs. "Sure babe, like I'm dumb enough to believe that." "You are dumb though." You say, grabbing one of the eyelashes and yanking it off. He flinches, obviously expecting his entire eyelid to come off with it.

"Its... that easy?" As you nod, he pulls the other one off. Noting how the glue still sticks to his gloves, Dante sticks it to your exposed thigh. You roll your eyes and reach for your makeup wipes. "Come here." Is whispered as you cup his jaw and wipe the makeup from his face. Lipstick, foundation, then the eyes. "Close them for me." He does letting you scrub off the pigmented shadow and annoyingly stubborn eyeliner.

You go over his face once more, making sure everything is off. "Better?" You say his face still in your hand. He nods, leaning against your hand. "You arent mad anymore?" "No, I'm still mad."

[headspace-hotel]

My first attempt at college, my advisor was a psychologist. Wasn’t my first choice of class or teacher. I chose the school for its donning problem, because of my ADHD and other neurodivergent symptoms/disabilities.

The current climate on campuses makes it next to impossible to criticize or call out a teacher without it turning into a fracas. Did a term paper on congenital blindness, which she had to approve. The professor specializes in developmental psychology. I couldn’t even bring up obvious ableism in sources, or how useless they were, without her getting defensive. I’m visually impaired, and neurodivergent, I’m not offended, I spent my childhood in and out of doctors offices, and I’ve got an ego on me, I like to challenge authority, if they can’t rise to the occasion and earn my respect that’s on them.

It’s such a broken field. I’ve taken psyche classes before, in high school and middle school. I already knew the neurodivergent experience learning about psychology or sociology is to sit there wondering why nothing you learn applies to you.

Long story short, I had a psychotic episode that year. Spent 6 hours writing the same 5 sentences over and over and went to her class, then had a meeting with another teacher who escorted me to the nurses because that’s how obviously off the wall I was.

I KNOW she was a shit teacher. But it was a great learning experience, and made me much more engaged in disability rights. Still in therapy, but in a much better place emotionally. That school broke me a little bit. But I think(?) came out the other end stronger (?)

One time I was explaining how I can hyperfocus and loose track of time researching and she told me to be “more aloof.”

I continue to wonder whether psych is just as broken as any other field and I can see it because I’m mentally ill and neurodivergent, or if there is something uniquely fucked about it.

I do know that most of my classes have substantially centered, as part of the obligatory introduction to the field they cover, at least some exploration of and criticism of the problems, bigotry, and ‘brokenness’ in that field and quite a bit of encouragement to look upon and question one’s own point of view, one’s own society, one’s own framework for understanding.

What constantly got me about psych was that the answer to a question was never “maybe the world needs to be different? Maybe the norm needs to change?” And our text and discussion were constantly exploring things where that was a glaring omission. I remember specifically thinking this about a class where we were discussing circadian rhythms and the amount of sleep needed to sustain health, and the question of “How can we help people get a healthy amount of sleep?” was on the table, but “Maybe we need to change the world we’ve created so the majority of people don’t exist in a permanent state of unhealthy sleep deprivation?” was never implied or permitted as a possible answer.

And just to be clear, there’s a good reason why that might not be a helpful answer, which is that people need help for their sleep problems now, and “overthrow capitalism” isn’t a very actionable solution for the average insomniac.

But the whole textbook in particular was actively encouraging us to think of The Way Things Are as default, and to explore ways of questioning people that don’t fit norms instead of questioning the norms themselves.

I felt a great deal of despair and panic at the thought that this was just a gen ed class for most of us (including me) and for many of us, would be the full extent of our academic delve into psychology. This would be all some of those students ever really learned about psychology. All they were formally taught about autism would consist of a few paragraphs that insisted that autistic children don’t want relationships or human contact because they see other people as the same as inanimate objects.

All of those classmates had an opportunity, an openness to having their limited understanding of psychology be challenged and expanded into an ability to interrogate the world around them. “Maybe the world doesn’t meet human needs the way it should. Maybe what we think of as normative isn’t the default. Maybe something needs to change so people do not suffer. Maybe I need to change so I can better understand others. Maybe I am wrong, and maybe I’m still wrong, and maybe I have to keep learning.” That was what I experienced in Anthropology, and it was difficult and mind-expanding and powerful.

But that textbook firmly shut that door, and I’m afraid that for some people it may have been shut forever.

Not that further study would necessarily help. Psych majors very easily hold onto their dehumanizing, voyeuristic, clinical, othering approach to psychological suffering throughout their studies. E.g. your advisor. Those people can be, if anything, worse toward people with disabilities or any kind of mental disorder or difference.

I can’t remember if the word “ableism” was ever used in my psych class. But it’s definitely a massively obvious problem that psych courses can discuss “helping” mentally ill and disabled people without discussing them as vulnerable, silenced, and marginalized in some ways.

There is very little acknowledgement that there is bias, prejudice, violence against these people. There is no opportunity or challenge to realize, “Maybe I’m biased, and maybe I can’t fully understand, and maybe I need humility or I might hurt people while trying to help.”

The fact that the people who are going into psych will be usually working so directly with people absolutely does not help.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Black Magic" *Part 3*

Alright y'all this took me ALL day to write [the entire rest of the story] and it took me an hour and a half to just edit this chapter. So I HOPE you like it. I had to find a breaking point it was getting too long, but the next chapter is coming like...maybe 30 minutes.

EEK!!!

Part 4

Part 2

Tag List

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@gibbs274

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@aprildecker-blog

@lolliepopsicle

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@omgsuperstarg

@stars-trash-18

@objection-argumentative

@madamsnape921

-------

After saying goodbye to Maria and the kids Rafael took your hand and you both got in another Uber he had called.

“So where to now?” You asked.

“Well we're going to need somewhere to get this food,” he smiled. “So I'm taking you to my favorite place in the city,”

Soon enough the Uber pulled up in front of Central park. We both got out and walked to the front entrance.

“Central Park is your favorite place in the city?” You asked. “Kind of basic but okay,” you teased.

“Shut up,” he laughed, punching you in the arm playfully. “Wait until you see what part of Central Park.” He took your hand and you walked for a bit until you came across a fountain.

“I mean it's gorgeous but still kind of basic,” you teased some more.

“This is where we're eating lunch carino,” he told you. “The surprise comes after,”

You set up camp on the edge of the fountain and spread out the food. It was enough for a feast. Luckily Maria had included napkins, plates , silverware and sneakily enough she snuck in an old blanket that you could spread out.

“Oh my god.. this is so good,” You said in between mouthfuls of food.

“I told you,” he laughed through a mouthful of his own food.

“No like you don't understand. I've never had food this good,” You insisted.

“Oh no? The fancy lunches from work, not your style?” He smirked.

You stopped eating for a second. Had he really noticed that you took home whatever food the bigwigs never finished? It was kind of a detail that you never had guessed that he would even pay attention to.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” You innocently replied.

“Sureee…” Rafael nodded with a smile.

“I'm sorry, please don't fire me,” You begged.

“Fire you? I think it's adorable. Trust me I would do the same thing back in my law school days when I had nothing,” He patted your shoulder.

“God do I hear that,” You agreed.

“Wait so you have nothing?” Rafael asked, concerned.

“What? No! Kind of…..I have enough.” You assured him.” It's not like I'm homeless or anything.” Oh my God this is getting worse. “I just mean like, back when I was in college I had even less than I have now.”

“Oh you went to college?” Rafael asked.

“Wow okay counselor I see where the snobbishness is coming back,” You acted offended. And you actually kind of were.

"Oh no no no, mi amor,” He put a hand on your knee, scared he had offended you. “Please don't think that I would ever think down of you. I think you are the most beautiful, smartest caring person in the world.”

He didn't even know you. That was definitely the spell. You sadly shrugged” it's fine,”

“No no what I meant.. I don't know I don't know what I meant,” He shook his head, blushing.

“Yeah you do it's fine you can say it Rafael I'm not going to get offended,” You assured him.

“I just meant... I don't know, or don't understand why somebody with a college degree would be temping, instead of using their degree for a job in their field. I seriously doubt you went to college for temping,”

“Well I don't know if you remember this since it was eons ago before you had money but living in New York is quite expensive.” You half laughed. "And when you have student loans to pay you kind of have to take what you can get even if it's not in your ‘field’,”

“I get it,” He nodded. “I totally get where you're coming from. I'm so sorry I offended you,”

“You know before today I would have stomped off and written you off as just the snob pompous asshole that I thought you were. But after seeing where you came from I know you really mean that,” You smiled.

“So…” he hoped to change the subject. “What exactly is your degree in? Something law related I assume?”

“Why do you assume that?”

“Well.. usually the people that apply to be my intern are only interested in kissing my ass and getting ahead in the lawyer corporate world. But you haven't done that.. Yet,” He raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Oh.. yeah.”. you look down at the ground nervously.

“What are you going to kiss my ass now? Because I'll gladly let you do it,” He smiled cheekily.

“No no!” You waved your hands. “I mean that would be nice but--I mean no, what?” You were flustered.

“You're adorable when you're flustered,” He rubbed your bright red cheeks.

“Haha,” you pushed a hair behind your ear. You thought to yourself “Well he's not going to remember any of this anyway so you might as well tell him the truth,”

“Truth is.. I may or may not have manipulated the system to beat out those other snobby law students to get this job,” You admitted, still looking down.

“Really…?” He looked at you suspiciously. “...And why’s that?

“...Because I saw your picture on the file and I thought you were gorgeous and I wanted to see that face everyday,” You blushed intensely, still looking at the ground, not able to tell him in his face..

There was a very long pause and then he put a hand on yours. You slowly looked up at him and he was smiling cutely.

“That is the most adorable thing I've ever heard in my life,” He grinned.

“Really? You think so?” Well obviously he thought so he was programmed to think whatever you did for the adorable duh.

“Yeah I don't think I've ever had a woman try that hard to get my attention. Or want to see me that much, or even think that highly of me,” He grinned.

“I mean it's not really thinking highly of you, just that you’re really attractive,” You laughed.

“Right, of course,” He was blushing even more.

“And that was even before I saw your butt!” You laughed without thinking.. But he really did have the best ass you've ever seen in your entire life. Everyday you walked into that office you just wanted to take a bite of it.

Rafael choked on his food. “I um…” His face was red hot now.. “Thank you?”

“Anyway…” He tried to steer the conversation away from his butt. “You avoided the question,”

“What question?” You asked. Completely in all honestly forgetting what you were talking about. Once you got lost in Rafael's ass your mind kind of went blank completely.

“What iis your degree in?”

“It's embarrassing,” You looked at the ground.

“What? It can't be that bad,” He shook his head.

“Well I say it's embarrassing to someone like you,” You half laughed.

“Someone like me?” He looked offended. “What iis that supposed to mean?”

“I mean I don't.. I mean the person that I thought you were before today,” You grabbed his hand.

“Well you seem to have really disliked me before today,” he nodded curiously. “It's like you don't know me at all.”

“What? Of course I know you.” You assured him. "I love you, remember? And you love me?”

“Yeah.. I do, but I don't know anything about you,” He looked away as if he was trying to figure out an equation.

Oh shit. What's happening? Was this supposed to happen? Wasn't wearing off? Oh God.

“It's a theater degree!” you blurted out, trying to change the subject. Maybe it would work. If you distracted him maybe this would take over again.

He turned his head to the side and stared off blankly, as if he was rebooting. Then he looked up and smiled at you. “A theater degree? That sounds exciting!” He was back to his “usual self''..

You let out a sigh of relief. However, you wondered if you had gotten him out of the spell, would he have freaked out? Would he have accepted it? Would he maybe start having real feelings for you? Well, it was too late now.

“Does it really though?” You rolled your eyes.

“It really does. I don't know if you would believe this, but I'm kind of a theater nerd myself,” He chuckled.

“No way. You? Nahh,” You blew a raspberry.

“Seriously! I had a bit of a theater bug when I was younger in fact. I wanted to be a big Broadway star” He admitted.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Raphael Barba the stuffy ADA of New York City as a big Broadway star? Yeah right!

“That's insane! You laughed. So why did you give it up?”

“Well.. as you know, being on Broadway isn't a great way to make money. It's more of a passion thing right?”

“So true,” You nodded as you were eating your empanada dessert.

“So.. I took a hard look at where I lived, and how hard my mom and abuelita were struggling and I vowed that I would get out of El Barrio. And make something of myself and be able to take care of them when I was an adult the way that I couldn't when I was a kid,”

You felt tears choking your throat once again for the millionth time that day. But this time it wasn't for you. It was for him. You really hadn't known any of this, to you he was just a pretty face. You actually had a lot in common.

“That is so sweet.” You pushed the trash between you away and moved up closer, pulling his hands into your lap and looking at him endearingly.

“Yeah?” He asked you with a half smile like a kid looking for approval.

“Yeah it really is. You gave up your passion for your family. I wish I was as selfless as that,” You said softly.

“What do you mean?”

What did you mean indeed? Did you really want to get into the story? Then once again you reminded yourself that he would have no idea no recollection of this after today, so you felt comfortable telling him your secret.

“Well….. You.... I came from nothing too. But all I could think of was getting out myself and never looking back,” You admitted in shame.

“Oh?” He looked at you curiously.

“Yeah, I was really passionate about theater and becoming a big Broadway star. With all the fame, and the money, and getting away from my small town in Jersey. So I threw myself into every activity, every theater, every play, every community theater, every performance, anything I can get my hands on. My parents were super supportive and never thought anything bad of me, even though they probably should have. They wanted me to have the world. And I took that for granted,” You began to get choked up.

“Why do you say that…?” He took your hand and squeezed it feeling like something bad was coming.

“They saved up their entire married lives to give me a college fund. I wasn't aware of it, but when I got accepted to NYU School of acting, they told me that they had enough saved for the first two years,” You continued, trying to breathe.

“Well that's good isn't it?”

“Yeah no totally, except I wasn't grateful,” You look down tears stinging your eyes thinking about how selfish you are as a kid. All I could think about and yell at them was how they didn't have enough for the full four years. How was I supposed to be a big Broadway star if I was still trying to pay student loans?”

“Oh Y/N…”.

“Yeah and that's not even the worst part,” Tears started stinging your eyes. You were lucky he was under some spell because he would definitely hate you after this under normal circumstances.

“Go on, I'm not here to judge you,” He pressed his forehead against yours. He realized how hard the story was taking its toll on you.

“One day it was my big end of semester performance and it was snowing. So my parents said that they weren't going to be able to make it. I screamed at them and told them that this was the biggest night of my life, and they couldn't be bothered to show up and what horrible parents they were and that they never cared about me and a whole huge temper tantrum like a 3 year old.”

You tried holding back sobs you had to make it through this whole thing without breaking down.

“No, honey…” He put a hand on your face.

”And so they tried…” You sniffed. They tried driving on the icy roads of Jersey to drive into the City and they served on black ice in the Jersey tunnel where they hit the wall and were killed instantly.

“Oh my god.. he whispered, “Baby I'm so sorry,” He grabbed you in a hug as you broke down. You just sat there for a minute letting him hold you while you sobbed into his shoulder.

“I just told them what shitty parents they were!” You sobbed muffled into his shirt. "And I killed them!”

“Hey,” he pulled your face from his shirt and looked you in the eyes. “No no you didn't do anything,”

“Yes I did! If I hadn't been such a brat and told them and guilted them into coming to see my stupid show then they'd still be alive!” you kept sobbing.

“No,” he took your head in his hands. “Look I didn't know you back then but I'm sure that your parents loved you and I'm sure that you loved them. That's why you wanted them there so bad. And sometimes it's just people's time. You didn't do anything wrong. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah.. I guess so,” you looked down. “I mean I was punished enough for it”.

“What does that mean?”

“Well I mean, obviously I was distraught from my parents dying. And that semester was the last one that was paid for. So kind of lied to you,” You paused to look at him apologetically.

“I had to drop out one year after that because I could only get student loans for that next year. And you had to have a certain GPA to get them to keep paying for the last year and I most certainly did not have that,”

“Oh...carino, I'm so sorry”

“Then me being me the arrogant bitch that I am, I thought well maybe I don't need a degree. Tons of actors don't have degrees. They can just make it on their own. So I just started throwing myself into auditions for about a year and a half, and I ended up living on the streets because I refused to take any kind of job. Telling myself that I was going to get my big break and be famous,”

“Oh my God”

“I know, right?” You laughed through tears. “I'm so stupid,”

“Hey you are not stupid,” Rafael grabbed your hands again.

“Yeah well, the first temp agency that I applied to had the first job as a personal assistant to a fancy lawyer. So maybe I'm not that stupid,” you smiled.

“Ah.. see? Happy ending. Maybe you went through all that to find me,”

“Yeah.. maybe,” You sadly smiled at him.

Although you knew deep down in your heart that was bullshit, because you really didn't have him. All you did was take another shortcut and be selfish and tried to take him for yourself instantly without any of the work. You were still a selfish bitch. And he didn't know that

“You know...if it makes you feel any better, you are lucky to have such loving parents,”

“What do you mean? Didn't you say you gave up your dream to take care of them?” You assumed that must have meant they were super close.

“Yeah well, for my mom and abuela..”.

You suddenly realized he hadn't mentioned a father.

"Oh? I'm.... No dad?”

“No, no dad.” He shook his head sadly. “I wasn't completely honest with you earlier YN,”

“What do you mean?” You took his hand, already knowing this wasn't going to be good.

“I was forced to give up my dream,” he replied sadly while staring at the ground.

“What?”

“When I was a kid I would watch musicals at my abuelitas house. It was the only place I was….safe,” He continued.

“Oh God.” You muttered.

“I would dance and sing all over her house. She was the only person in my life who ever supported that side of me,” he continued to stare at the ground.

“When my dad came to pick me up one day and he saw what I was doing…. “ He stopped again, you realized he was trying not to cry.

“Rafa…..”

“He tried to "beat the gay out of me.",” You saw tears dripping on the pavement.

You silently gasped.

"Not that I'm gay,' he quickly assured you.

"That was literally the last thing on my mind baby," you shook your head, tears coming to your own eyes as you pulled him into a hug. He collapsed into tears as you rubbed the back of his neck and whispered comforting words into his ear.

Finally he composed himself enough to finish his story.

“Anyway, he uh...he didn't just beat me for that. It was anything really. But I kept at it at my abuelas. She encouraged me even if she couldn't stand up to my dad. I can't blame her or my mother. When my mom caught me still pursuing it she told me to stop if I wanted to keep our dad around saying he wouldn't tolerate a….f word son,"

“Oh my god.” You whispered. You couldn't imagine your parents or any parents really, trying to discourage their kids from anything, and threatening them for being something they were so passionate about.

“Well I guess it didn't matter either way because he ended up taking off anyway. And I felt so guilty that we lost our only income, so my mom had to end up getting two jobs and my abuela moved in to help with bills that then I swore to become better so that I could atone for my sins,” He couldn’t look at you.

“Oh my god. Rafa, sweetie I…. That wasn't your fault., it wasn't your fault at all. He sounds like a grade a asshole,” You made him look at you just as he did when you told your shameful story.

“He was...is. I don't know if he's dead or alive actually. I haven't seen or heard from him since he left. I hate him so much,” he clenched his fists.

“Oh honey,” You pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“No you don't understand. My middle name is Eduardo, named after him. So he's always with me. I have always told people it's Antonio, because I want nothing about me associated with him,” He started to cry again.

After a minute, he looked back up at you very seriously. “I've never told anyone that story.”

“Really? Not even Liv?”

"Not even Liv," He stroked your hair. "I've never felt as close to her as I do with you.” He pulled you into his lap. “The truth is Y/N I have never felt safe since my abuela’s house. Until I met you,”

“Rafa…” You pulled him into a deep kiss, tears dropped down both your faces. “We can be each other’s homes now,”

[voiceless-terror]

For the comfortober!!!! If you'd like to do some of them, might I request "Back to school/work"??? Picturing Jon, after being v sick, or recovering from an injury finally coming back to work, maybe recovered, maybe not?? And the crew just totally fussing over him ??

Here you are! Just in time for day 25.

The situation at hand is not ideal.

He’d been carrying boxes, heavy, cumbersome things that blocked his field of vision as he made his way to Document Storage. Tim had cast a disapproving eye; Jon’s not the most coordinated, he knows that. But the least he could do was carry a few boxes of statements to their proper filing place. 

But he managed to, in Tim’s retelling, ‘completely eat shit’ as his leg came in contact with an errant box, causing the one he was carrying to go flying and Jon to fall unceremoniously on the ground with an audible crack. 

Everything’s a bit blurry after that.

He remembers an intense pain in his ankle- he’s been here before, his bones are not the most stable structures (it’s a shame they’re tasked with holding his body together). But that didn’t make the pain any less. Surprisingly, it was Martin who took charge, showing a competence Jon had never seen applied to his research or his Latin translations. He picked him up, managing to avoid putting any pressure on his ankle and summarily put him in a cab, despite Jon’s many refutations that he was fine. 

He stopped that after Martin shot him a very unimpressed look.

He paid the cab driver and Jon let him- the pain was starting to make his brain foggy and his stomach nauseous. Martin waited the full two hours it took to get him admitted, even letting him fall asleep on his shoulder in one very embarrassing instance that he hopes will never see the light of day. The result of his clumsiness- a broken ankle, a cast, and a set of crutches that he threw into the closet as soon as he got home. He had a cane, that should be fine. 

Martin followed him to the door, making sure he was settled on the couch and fixing him a cup of tea as if Jon were an invalid. Sure, the painkillers he was on did not allow for much thinking, but he could manage to take care of himself. When Martin suggested staying a while, just to make sure he was fine, Jon found himself snapping a “No!” and breaking Martin out of his competent stupor. He shook his head a bit, turning red and letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ll uh, leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything.” On his way out, he turned to him, face serious. “And don’t even think about coming in tomorrow.” He wasn’t- he’s not a complete idiot.

Okay, maybe he did briefly consider it the next morning. But the soreness had intensified, and he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to make it without breaking another bone.

Getting around was...difficult, to say the least. He spent most of the day on the couch, dry swallowing ibuprofen as the painkillers the hospital prescribed were a bit too strong, despite the ease they provided. God, it was so boring. He wished he had the foresight to bring work home. But his assistants’ texts ignored any query about work, only focusing on well wishes and asking if he ‘needed anything.’ What he needed was to do his job. If he was going to be motionless, he might as well be motionless behind a desk.

The next day, the train ride nearly kills him.

Jon manages to find a seat; people are generally sympathetic when they see a cane and a cast. He should’ve taken a cab, of course, but that seemed a little extravagant. He can manage a few steps.

Probably should’ve brought the crutches as well, but they seemed too unwieldy. When he tried them in his flat they’d put too much pressure under his arms, and he wasn’t sure how to go about adjusting them; he quickly got frustrated and threw them to the side. Patience was never one of his strong suits.

But the pain is unimaginable. By the time he gets into work, he’s huffing and puffing, on the verge of passing out. He’d taken ibuprofen again that morning, but it’s doing very little to help him out. As soon as Rosie catches sight of him, she makes sympathetic cooing noises and attempts to take his bag from him.

“Poor thing,” she says after he refuses for the third time. “Are you sure you don’t need help downstairs?”

Quite sure.

The stairs intensify the aching in his joints and he’s sure every one of his assistants hears the tell-tale thump of his cast landing awkwardly on each step. He’s met with three concerned stares, all tinged with exasperation and disappointment. He’s been eliciting those reactions a lot these days.

“Didn’t Elias approve a week of paid leave?” Sasha asks, immediately attempting to take his bag, just like Rosie. And just like with Rosie, he dodges her arms, letting out an involuntary hiss as he puts pressure on his injury. “Honestly Jon, you should’ve stayed home.”

“And where are your crutches, mister?” Tim’s leaning against the wall, looking for all the world like a disappointed parent. “I happen to know that a cane’s not sufficient when you’re in a cast like that. Not to mention uncomfortable, dragging it all around London. What were you doing, hopping down the street?”

“I had a seat on the train, thank you very much,” he says, attempting to hobble away as fast as he can to take refuge in his office. This was all very overbearing. 

“You took the train-?” Martin’s incredulous voice is cut short by a slammed door.

Peace and quiet. His office has always been a nice place to suffer in private.

Not that it remains so for long.

Martin comes in not minutes later, bearing a cup of tea accompanied by a few biscuits. “You don’t seem like much of a breakfast-type,” Martin surmises correctly, “And you’ll need to eat something with the medication they’ve got you on.” Jon does not mention he’s not currently on said medication. It sits in his pocket, heavy and accusing. Instead, he just grunts, barely deigning to raise his eyes from the work in front of him. The door shuts and Jon nibbles at the food before his stomach tells him this is a bad idea. 

He does eventually (and very reluctantly) call one of them in- he still wants to go through the files from two days prior, but he’s going to need a bit of help to get there. Tim doesn’t help him walk, however, instead pushing his office chair into Document Storage with surprising care, and helps him prop his leg up on a box to keep it elevated. Tim hands him the files one by one, sorting by date- it’s an easy, companionable task. Tim always was one of his favorite researchers to work with; there’s a reason he asked him to join his team. He’s wearing a jumper in a nice, deep blue shade. Jon is not immune to Tim’s charm or looks, but he’s mostly preoccupied with how warm it looks. His own button down and sweater vest are barely doing the job.

After about thirty minutes of this, his leg starts to ache- the stretch is no longer pleasant, and he attempts very gingerly to place his ankle on the ground. Needless to say, it does not work out very well. If the chair had about two more inches, his foot could dangle without putting undue pressure on his joints. Alas, the chair is already at its highest. 

Tim notices his fidgeting, zeroing in on the pain in his face. “Need a break?”

Jon sighs. “I’d rather get this box done, at the very least.”

Tim looks thoughtful at this. “Hold on- give me a sec.” He leaves the room but returns rather quickly, two pillows from the break room couch in tow. “Here- lean on me for a mo’, will you?” Jon manages to get to his feet relatively painlessly, leaning most of his weight on Tim’s shoulders as he puts the pillows down as a cushion, lifting him the desired inches he needs. “Better?” Tim smirks, clearly proud of his achievement.

“Much, thank you,” he admits, just happy to continue working. The throbbing is getting worse with each passing minute. They’re eventually interrupted by Sasha, who announces that she’s gotten takeout for everyone- Indian, Jon’s favorite. Elaborate and unnecessary, but appreciated. 

Ten minutes later and he’s sitting in the break room with the rest of them, picking at his curry. He knows he should eat; his mind registers the hunger, but it's hard to feel through all of the pain. Ibuprofen’s just not going to cut it. With great reluctance, he pulls the bottle of pills out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap. Martin notices.

“About time for your next dosage, I reckon?” he questions innocently. Martin doesn’t know he never took the first one, and Jon would like to keep it that way. He can’t handle any more thoughtfulness and care from the man. So he just nods, swallowing two pills and chasing them with water. If he can manage a few more bites of curry, it should be fine. 

What he didn’t keep in mind is his original reaction to the medication- that strange, loopy feeling that had him leaning on Martin the entire cab ride home. About thirty minutes later, it starts to hit. And all he can think about is Tim’s jumper.

It just looked so warm. Jon wants a jumper like that. Maybe he has a jumper like that? He’ll have to check when he’s home. There’s a lot of stuff in his closet- dumb things, remnants from his college days. Probably a few of Georgie’s jumpers. Maybe Georgie’s jumpers are that warm? But none of them are that nice shade of blue. Jon wants a jumper like that, yeah. In a nice shade of blue. He’s going to ask Tim where he got it from. But he’s got to be discreet. What if Martin overhears? And then Martin gets the jumper? They can’t all wear the same jumper, that’s ridiculous. He’s already going to have to coordinate with Tim, make sure they don’t wear it on the same day. Jon’s a grown man, he can’t go around matching his employees.

He lifts the phone, dialing Tim’s extension. It only rings once before Tim’s cheerful voice answers. “What’s up, bossman? Everything alright?”

“Tim,” he whispers, just in case anyone’s listening. “Tim, I need you to come to my office...immediately.” No, he has to give a reason or he’ll be suspicious. Why would he call Tim into his office? “Reports, Tim. Research. Bring...your research. Yes. Goodbye.” That seemed natural enough.

For some reason, all three of his assistants are at the door. No, that’s not what he wants. Not what he wants at all. “I only need Tim.” He’s still whispering for some reason. “The rest of you go away.”

They don’t, pesky things they are. Tim moves closer, face both concerned and amused. “What’s going on, Jon?” He beckons him closer- he’s so blurry, it’s hard to focus. When he gets within grabbing distance he tugs at his sleeve, forcing him close to his face. “Er, boss-”

“Tim,” Jon’s eyes are wide with urgency. “Tim, I need to know where- where you got your jumper.”

Tim makes a face, somewhere between amused and confused. Jon does not understand what’s difficult about this question. It’s very straightforward. “Um, sorry? My jumper?”

“Yes!” His voice gets louder, though he doesn’t mean it to. “It’s just- it looks so warm. And it’s so soft.” His voice starts to wobble and his eyes water as he runs his thumb across the fabric. It’s a very good jumper. “Such a nice shade of blue.”

“Okay, did you take one too many of those pills? You weren’t like this earlier.” Tim’s got one arm on Jon’s chest, attempting to stop his wandering hands as his eyes search the desk. “I swear to god, if you’ve overdosed-”

“Don’t be stupid, Tim.” Why won’t he let him touch the jumper? Does Tim not want him to be warm? Rather rude. “I only took two today.”

“Wait, seriously?” It’s Martin’s voice he hears next. “Oh, Jon. You must have been in so much pain.”

“Obviously, Martin!” The snap comes as naturally as breathing- Jon’s an old hand at that, after all. “But that’s not the point-”

“Whoa there, buddy. No need to get tetchy.” Tim’s got both of his hands on his shoulders, his eyes now patient and kind. “You’re high as hell, aren’t you? Think you should probably have a rest right about now, yeah?”

Jon can’t help the whine that comes out of his throat. Rest? No, he wants-

“I swear I’ll tell you where I got the jumper. Hell, I’ll even get one for you if I can. But only if you sleep.”

Jon sighs wearily. If I must. “That sounds reasonable. Thank you, Tim.” He allows himself to be led to a couch, limping all the way. Oh, that’s quite nice. Yes, that’ll do. Tim arranges a pillow beneath his head, and Jon hopes it's not the one he sat on before. His stomach growls, and a thought occurs to him; he grabs at Tim’s arm again, forcing him down to his level.

“Jon, I told you I’d-”

“No, that’s not it. I-I threw out some biscuits earlier. Please send my apologies to Martin.” 

Tim’s face is fond. “Will do, boss.”

“And perhaps you could secure me a few more for later.”

A soft snort. “I’m sure I can.”

“Tim, you are invaluable to me.”

“God I wish I had this on tape-”

A soft click sounds from somewhere in the room as if in response. Tim blinks. “Did you hear that?”

Jon doesn’t answer, already halfway towards sleep. 

“Huh. Alright, then.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715163

[petri808]

Fanfic Bingo I4+Nalu Rivals w/pining, enemies to lovers req for @natsudragneelswh0re Yakuza-themed

Ch. 1 of ___

“Don’t touch me! Do you know who I am??!! Just open the fucking door so I can rip your boss a new asshole!” The female voice screamed out at the underling who’d dared to guide her in a certain direction. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, and no one would tell her otherwise. It was easy to hear through the walls her angry entrance. So, the moment the door swung open, and Lucy sauntered her way inside like she owned the place, everyone but the main man were standing at attention. This wasn’t the first time Lucy had fearlessly barged into the man’s office without protection.

The feisty blonde was on a mission and the target was Yakuza boss Natsu Dragneel. She narrowed her eyes at the man with one hand on a hip and the other jutting a finger directly at him. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”

The man rolled his eyes at her histrionics. “Geez, Luce. Now what’s the matter?” Natsu relaxed back in his chair, casually leaning on one elbow with a grin plastered on his face. It was clear the man relished in these interactions. So as the woman walked straight over and around his desk, he waved off the lieutenants that had stepped forward in concern. “You can’t just barge in here like a banshee.”

Lucy sat poised on the desk with her legs crossed, leaning forward and bracing herself up with one arm. Her face mere inches from Natsu’s face, with a determined and unflinching resolve flowing out. He may be a Yakuza boss, but in the underworld, she’d done what most woman never accomplished— built her own empire. “When one of your thugs interrupts my business, you better expect to see my face.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Natsu jested. “But seeing your beautiful face always makes my day.”

A few hours earlier, one of Lucy’s high-end escorts had returned from a job shaken with abrasions on her knees and a bruise on her arm, not to mention highly upset over the encounter. The young woman had been out with a client when a street thug robbed them. Her employees weren’t mere street hookers, and the clients were all high level individuals that needed eye-candy for an event, some attention and affection, or just a good time out on the town. Such individuals were often prime targets for robberies, but in their area, such criminal activities were almost non-existent. One of Natsu’s rules expressly forbade any type of activities that could bring law enforcements attention, so clearly someone out there didn’t think the rules applied to them. Oh, Lucy had seen red when she’d found out. Someone dared to rob her employee! The poor woman had required medical attention for the cuts and abrasions after being pushed down onto the asphalt, and the client had a gun stuck in his face along with any money he’d been carrying stolen before the robber disappeared into a dark alleyway. Pissed was an understatement. If Lucy got her hands on the robber, they wouldn’t see the next sunrise.

“Tch.” She was in no mood to jest right now. “We’ll let me enlighten you,” Lucy sneered back and launched into a retelling of events of her night while Natsu listened without saying a word. The man kept his laissez faire pose casual but based on his demeanor she could tell the longer she spoke, Natsu was holding back any outward physical reactions. The pulsing vein in his forehead and bobbing Adam’s apple told her volumes. He was just as furious as she was. Neither would openly admit how well they could read the other, but it wasn’t lost on their closest associates who knew of their history. They both had to maintain an air of power lest they start to lose the hold they had on their respective organizations. His based on physical strength and hers on status and connections.

The energy of the room heightened steadily with Natsu’s associates already paying close attention to what Lucy had to say. They knew their bosses will and whoever the thug had been, had brazenly broken the rules. Regardless of who the victims were or whether or not it had been one of his men, Natsu would not take kindly to the behavior. Most probably assumed correctly, once the woman left, instructions would be given out to find and detain this so-called thug for punishment. So, as Lucy gave a description of the assailant, she could see in her peripheral one lieutenant named Gray Fullbuster, Natsu’s right hand man, jotting down notes on his phone. She knew whoever the thug was would pay dearly but didn’t let up on her pressure.

“You need to have better control of your underlings Dragneel,” Lucy spat. “They best stay the hell away from my girls and my clients!”

“How are we supposed to know who’s one of yours?!”

“That’s not the point! You know damn well this kind of shit brings attention, and neither of us needs the authorities crawling up our ass!”

Natsu leaned in. “Don’t you tell me how to run things! You know damn well I don’t allow such behaviors in my territory.”

“Pfft. Just stay out of my area!”

“Your area?! This is my territory woman!”

“Don’t you call me woman Natsu Dragneel! I’m not one of your sluts!”

“Oh, really? Shall I bring up our history?…”

In a flash, Lucy’s foot planted itself between his thighs. “You do, and my stiletto will meet your groin.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the room amongst the collective of held breaths. It was only broken by a snicker coming from Gray Fullbuster. Of the six people in the room, two had no idea how far back Lucy Heartfilia and Natsu Dragneel’s history went. Gray was one of the four who did. So, the slip wasn’t surprising to Lucy who knew their bicker-banter resembled an old married couple, making such engagements all the more amusing for onlookers. But she ignored them, keeping all her attention on Natsu. It wouldn’t look good to flinch now.

“You shut it Gray!” Natsu snapped, though there was no real bite to his tone. He then turned back to the woman. “Look, Heartfilia just tell me what you want so you can leave me alone.”

“Compensation.” Lucy demanded he pay her money for the loss of revenue while the escort has to heal because she can’t do her job with injuries along with the medical costs. “And lastly, reimbursement of the cash that was stolen from my client of ¥109,000.”

“What?! How the fuck do I know that’s even true! You could be making it up!”

“You calling me a liar?!”

“No, but how dare you come into my office and make demands of me like this! We don’t know if it’s even one of my guys!”

“Dare?” Lucy stands up tall with her arms crossed, within reach of him. “Oh, I dare, Dragneel.” Sarcasm dripping from full ruby red lips. “These are your streets remember? Mister, nobody does anything without your approval in this area. Well, right now your credibility is waning, so yeah, I dare! You wanna be involved in low-level bullshit, then you,” she jabbed a finger into his chest, “need to handle it and deal with the consequences or next time I’ll just blackmail you by planting drugs and anonymously make a call to my buddy at police headquarters.”

“Bullshit,” Natsu scoffed. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” she grinned running her hand along his cheek with a sultry tone. “Don’t tempt me. I’d love to fuck with you Dragneel.”

Natsu smirked, unwilling to give in so easily to her wiles. “Are you sure you don’t mean, you’d love to fuck me Heartfilia? I’d be happy to help you work out some frustrations.”

“Still dreaming of me I see.” Lucy rolled her eyes but with a grin, feigning compassion. “Still haunted by raptured nights in long ago dreams. You poor soul.”

“Tch. Just give in. You know damn well we could rule this territory together.”

“I see… what? As King and Queen of Tokyo? Tch. After all this time, you really think I’d give up my own sovereignty to you? I don’t think so. Just pay me my money and handle your business.”

Natsu finally sighed, tired of the back and forth that was going nowhere. “You’re such a witch sometimes Luce. Fine, I’ll give you you’re damn money.” He then turned to a second lieutenant Gajeel Redfox with directions. “Pay her the cash and escort Ms. Heartfilia out.”

“You’re a doll,” Lucy patted Natsu’s cheek. “Nice doing business with ya,” she winked and proceeded to follow Gajeel out, swaying her hips as if to turn the screws a little tighter and prolong the tease.

Lucy knew Natsu’s eyes would follow every movement she made because only a blind man couldn’t see he still desired her. Maybe the feelings were mutual… But for now, this tit-for-tat game had to go on. They’d both built extraordinary regimes in the heart of Tokyo, and it would be poor business to rock the boat now. He in the lower underworld of seedier devices and she in the classier underworld of corporate Japan. In their ancient history, Natsu believed in the old code that a woman had no place at the head of a Yakuza family, so it was a bit ironic for him to try and suggest a power share role after all these years. Perhaps he was starting to regret his younger self’s decision to push her away when they’d could’ve ruled together all along.

[holylulusworld]

Her again

Title: Her again

Square Filled: Office AU

Ship: AU!Dean x Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle, Charlie Bradbury, John Winchester

Rating: explicit

Warnings: angst, language, lies, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, unrequited love?, a hint of breeding kink, consensual degrading (name calling), a hint of choking, light blow job, hand job, implied smut

Summary: At an office party you finally turn your back on Dean.

Word Count: 2,4 k

Written/Created for @spnaubingo​​​​​

2020 SPN AU BINGO Masterlist

Divider by @writeyourmindaway​

“Her again?” Jo huffs, watching you look at Dean who has one arm pressed against the wall to cage Lisa Braeden, the girl getting the job you wanted. “I can’t understand what everyone sees in her.”

“A dog in heat,” Charlie grunts. “Wonder how she got the job without having the qualifications Dean wanted. Do you know what that bitch did before she started working here?”

“Charlie do not use the b-word. We are all women and do not…,” Lisa turns her attention toward you, grinning wildly as Dean brushes a lash off her cheek. “Okay, she’s a bitch.”

“That chick was a fucking yoga instructor, girls,” Charlie jerks her head toward Sam who winks at you, offering you another free drink. “I should tell Sam she got the job for blowing her boss…”

“Charlie, we do not know if she got the job that way,” you watch Dean grab another drink, eyes landing on you. He raises the glass, but you do not have it in you to return the smile he gives you. “I’ll have that drink with you now.”

“Sam is fighting for your attention, girl. Go and get him, tiger,” Jo snickers at Charlies' words, pecking her friend’s cheek.

“I am not in the mood for stupid office rumors to spread. I do not need someone telling my boss I fucked his brother only as we shared a drink,” grumbling you walk toward Sam, taking the awful eggnog out of his hands.

“My brother again?” Sam muses watching his brother eye you warily as you give his younger brother a soft smile. “He’s a fool for not seeing you.”

“Well, I worked my ass off and didn’t get the position. I cannot compare with chicks like Lisa Braeden. I don’t know,” you sigh deeply, smile fading away. “Men do prefer girls like her, not me. I am awkward around men like your brother or you.”

“You are talking with me,” Sam slings one arm around your shoulders, squeezing your arm. “Maybe you should’ve told him that you like him.”

“And embarrass me even more,” deadpanning you point toward Dean who offers Lisa another drink. “Look at him, Sam he’s in his flirting modus. There is no chance he will not take her home like all the other girls. I do not want to be another notch on his belt. At least I’ll keep my dignity and do not have to do the Dean Winchester walk of shame.”

“That’s a new one,” snickering Sam looks at his brother whose jaw ticks anytime Sam touches you. “Dean Winchester walk of shame…”

“Maybe ‘I fucked my boss and now I have to quit’ would be more appropriate. I bet she is good, flexible, and all. I mean as a former yoga instruct…,” biting your tongue you pray Sam didn’t get the last words.

“I know she’s not qualified for the job, Y/N,” Sam does not like the way Dean acts around Lisa, not at all. “They have a history, okay. During his wilder times, he had an affair with her for like a week.”

“Great,” voice dripping with sarcasm you look at Sam. “He dunked his dick into her cunt and that’s the reason she got the job. A job she is not even qualified for. I worked my ass off. My relationship went downhill thanks to the fact I was married to my job. Fuck this,” you throw the glass with eggnog to the ground, glaring at Dean who turned his attention toward you.

“Y/N, calm down,” Sam tries but you push his hand away.

“This is ridiculous. Our boss fucks a yoga instructor for a week, and she gets the job Cole and I applied for. If Cole would have gotten it, I would have understood. He is longer at the company than I, has more experience but this is a shitshow and I am out of this for good. Fuck Winchester Inc. and fuck his CEO, Dean Winchester.”

Giving Sam an apologetic smile you pat his chest. “You’re not the one I hate right now. I will grab my shit and you’ll get my termination letter.” Sam can only watch you storm out of the room to rush toward your office.

“What the fuck was that Sam?” Dean gasps only catching a glimpse of you storm out of the room. Sam shrugs a smug grin on his lips.

“That was the best employee and woman for the job you gave your ex quitting her job and calling you a jerk,” Sam still grins when his brother storms after you. “I mean, you are a jerk after all.”

“Sam? What happened?” Charlie feels her legs give in. “That was not the plan! How shall we get those two together when she quits her job?”

“Relax, Charlie,” not worried at all Sam offers Charlie a self-assured smirk. “My brother will beg, plea, and fall to his knees to not lose Y/N.”

“Done?” Dean eyes you warily when you storm out of your office to leave the building. “Not even a goodbye?”

“Goodbye, jerk!” you brush past Dean, not caring he follows you. “I can’t believe you gave that yoga chick the job instead of Cole or me.” You stop in your tracks, glaring at Dean whilst you stomp your heel onto his foot, causing him to grunt in pain.

“I know, I did not deserve the position yet, but I thought I’ll give it a try. Cole, I knew he would make it, but he is great at his job. That girl can barely keep up with her tasks. She always bugs Jo to do most of her job,” you blink the tears of anger away. “I am disappointed more than I am mad. I know you tend to think with your dick but making such a lousy decision to get your dick sucked is the shadiest thing you ever did.”

“She doesn’t suck anything, Y/N,” Dean grasps for your hand but you wiggle out of his grip, giving him a warning glare. Sam, Charlie, and Jo can only watch you yell at Dean.

“Yeah, that’s the reason she got a job she’s not qualified for. I know you want to give people with less qualification or education a chance, but this is not such a job,” anger taking over you drop the box to backhand Dean. “That’s for ruining my relationship by forcing me to work my ass off for nothing.”

Rubbing his burning cheek Dean watches you pick your box back up. “There I stand, believing you and I could’ve had something. I am still the nerdy chick helping you with your grades. But this is over. Look for someone else to pamper your ego and the rest of Dean Winchester.”

“Y/N, wait,” the look on your face let Dean stop in his tracks. “She needed a job and that was the only free position, I swear.”

“Dean, we were looking for assistants, a new PR manager and so on when she started to work her. Do not underestimate me, Winchester. I am not a dumb little lamb falling for the big bad wolf,” you are half-way out of the building before Dean catches up with you.

“Wait, sweetheart,” not stopping you walk faster. “Please…”

“Won’t work anymore, Dean. Shove that sugar-sweet pet name up to your ass,” you blink the tears away, taking a deep breath. “Good thing I never told you I love you because this would’ve been embarrassing as hell,” the door slams shut behind you and Dean swallows the lump in his throat.

“Dean what the fuck!” Sam runs after his brother, watching you enter a cab. “You should’ve stopped her. That was the plan.”

“I told you he’ll mess up,” Charlie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Jo, check Y/N’s office, maybe she forgot something. Sam, you will check her termination letter. Dean, stop being a jerk.”

“She loves me,” Dean grins dreamily. “I mean, hell she loves me.”

“Uh-Dean, I hate to ruin your daydreams but at the moment she rather hates you,” Jo shrugs, giving Charlie a wink. “Don’t think she liked watching you flirt with that Braeden chick.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight this way,” Dean grunts into your ear, pressing his sweaty chest closer to you back.

He has you on your belly, legs straddled by his muscular thighs, his cock so deep inside of you it borders on pain, your boss pumps wildly into you. “You’re such a slut for my dick.”

“D’, fuck,” you whine, fighting the ropes holding your hands bound behind your back. “I want to cum.”

“Did you earn to cum?” His lips press against your ear and you shudder, feeling his tongue slide in. “You caused quite a scene there.”

“You said, oh-please right there,” Dean’s large palm wraps around your throat, forces your body to bend to his will. “Please…”

“I said, make it look believable, not fucking rip me apart,” he slams into your abused pussy, making you yelp with every thrust. “I wanted them to believe you quit.”

“Dean, please. I need it,” his free hand slips between your thighs, to toy with your pulsing nub. “I’ll do anything, Sir.”

“I know you will,” Dean muses, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Monday morning you will come to my office, apologize and I’ll yell at you while you blow me like a fucking pro.”

“All you want but please let me cum,” watching Dean in the mirror he placed opposite his bed you roll your eyes. He is grinning wickedly, loving he won the upper hand. “Please.”

“Fucking cum on my dick,” now you push back onto his length, feeling your toes curl. “I want this pussy to squeeze me, milk me dry. You know, I’ll give you all my cum until you are round. Everyone will see you are my whore.”

“Dean!” You cry out, fluttering around his twitching length. “Give me your cum, Sir. Please.” Dean approves your words, gives you shallow thrusts to ride your high out. “Please.”

“There you go, slut,” sticky cum runs down your thighs, ruining the silky sheets. “Love fucking this cunt.”

“I am sorry,” you sigh, snuggling into Dean’s chest. “You said I shall make it look believable and got carried away.” Gently stroking the cheek, you backhanded you look up at Dean. “This sucks.”

“Listen, my father is a strict bastard. Whether we keep our relationship a secret and you can have the position, or we go public and lose it all,” Dean sighs, running one large palm over your ass, squeezing it roughly.

“Lisa played her role well,” giggling you peck Dean’s cheek. “I mean, fuck me, she should get an Oscar for her performance.”

“This way we got rid of Cole without firing him,” Dean grins, moving his hand to your back to tickle your skin. “We had to make him leave on free terms, believing Lisa got the position. Next week you will come back, and I will suggest that you’ll get the position to avoid that you sue me for being a naughty boss.”

“Sounds good to me,” you love the plan Dean and you developed over the last months. “They will lose the bet too. Five hundred bucks for new shoes.”

“You were the only one betting you’ll quit during our Christmas party. I got an evil mastermind in my bed.” You nod eagerly, exclaiming you used an avatar for the bet.

“Now back to me going down on you, boss,” a low growl leaves Dean’s lips when you crawl under the blanket to have a look at his dick. “Looks good, Sir. Maybe I should,” hissing Dean lifts the blanket to watch you lick the tip.

“Sweetheart, I wanted you in my office, on your knees like a good girl but,” he throws his head back, moaning your name when you lick him all over. “Forget it, just take me in your warm mouth, baby girl.”

Voice husky, at least two octaves deeper Dean urges you on, praises your mouth, pussy, and anything he loves. “Please baby girl, suck daddy’s cock.”

You look up at Dean, giggling. “Sorry, I don’t know where this was coming from, Y/N.” His cheeks shades of pink Dean pats your head when you play with his balls. “Such a good little cocksucker. Aren’t you a good little bitch?”

“Winchester stop making me wet again, dammit,” you pump him slowly before you relax your jaw enough to try again. “If you say another word, I’ll ride that dick until it falls off.”

“Fuck me, come up here,” before you can protest Dean tosses the blanket aside, to watch you crawl onto his lap. “Now ride me until you are a mess…”

“See, we need to do something about this,” Dean points toward the faked papers you hand him this morning. “She will sue me if I do not give her the position, father.” Whilst John looks at the papers, you have a grand time teasing Dean.

His cock at your mercy you run your hand up and down his length. Moments before John waltzed into his son's office you wanted to suck your boss off. Now you have him at your mercy and enjoy every second.

“Jesus, that bitch is greedy,” John curses, just like Dean when you slap his dick. “She will sue us for your mistake. Fire Braeden, no give her a suiting position and give that greedy cunt the job. I hope you can dick her down one day for fucking with you…”

“Oh-I will dick her down, Sir,” Dean grunts feeling your hand move faster along his shaft. “Metaphorically, of course���”

“Such a needy slut,” Dean grunts, pushing upward. You are on his lap, back against his chest. His hands on your tits he let you ride him while he checks some numbers, or at least tries to do so. “Naked on your boss’s lap in the middle of your lunch break.”

“He forced me down his dick, Sir. What can I do when he wants to fuck the neediness out of me?” You grin feeling Dean’s fingers pinch your nipples.

“Now, ride me like a good girl and later we will go to my apartment and celebrate you won the bet, got the position, and my dick on the same day.”

“Deal, Mr. Winchester,” you roll your hips faster, moaning as you hit that spot making you see stars. “Now I want you to fuck me over your desk like the slut I am for you.”

“Always so needy, Ms. Y/L/N,” Dean snickers. “I’ll see what I can do for you…”

Tags in reblog.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XIV]

Word count: 6,791

Warnings: vulgar language, angst (everyone saw it coming)

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

__________________________________________________________________________

“Y/N, are you awake?” Mallory asked.

I closed the book and peeked my head up from beneath the covers to look at her. Light attacked my eyes and I squinted for a brief moment, gathering the covers under my chin.

“Did you really need to switch on that light?” I sat up on the bed and blinked. “This one was doing its job just fine.” I pointed at the reading light next to me.

“You’ll grow wings and turn into a bat any day now.” She laughed, and I glowered. Turning into a bat could very well be a possibility. I hadn’t asked Dracula about that. There was a lot I hadn’t asked, and a lot that he probably wouldn’t tell me now. “A joke, Y/N. You still remember those?”

“Not sure I do,” I scoffed. “You look great. Are you going out with Sean?”

Mallory’s blonde locks laid in large curls around her shoulders – an hour of carefully applied curling iron, I’d say – and her makeup was soft in such a way that her eyes looked more almond shaped than round and innocent like they usually did. A beige trench coat covered her outfit but her legs were on display. Mallory favoured mini dresses so I presumed that was what she had on underneath.

“No, he’s being annoying, it’s just me and the girls. And don’t you change the subject. I don’t feel good about leaving you here.” She sighed. “You’re my guest and I’ll leave you here to go party? That’s not right, but if you come with… It’ll be fun, come on. I’ll wait for you if you go get ready. We’ll drink and dance, and maybe you’ll find someone else.”

Someone else to end up bitten by Count Dracula. Another lesson, like Mallory was, to remind me that I was his.

“No rebounds,” I muttered. “I’ll be fine. I don’t feel like dancing.” She frowned. “Mal, I’m incredibly thankful that you’re letting me stay here but you don’t have to feel like you need to cater to me. We lived together during uni. Don’t think of me as a guest, more like a flatmate, a very brief one. I’ll go back home in two days time”

Staying with Mallory was more her decision than mine. Days ago, she’d bought a last minute train ticket from Gloucester and returned with me to London when the Sun was still up in the sky. When the taxi dropped me off at my house, Mal asked the cabbie to wait and strolled up my stairs on weak knees and packed my bags for me, saying that I needed her. I simply watched as she threw my outfits and shoes inside a large suitcase. While I waited, listening to her go on about broken hearts and that’s what friends do, I’d noticed that my bedroom’s window was open; I didn’t remember leaving it like that. Maybe I was being paranoid but being paranoid was a better choice than being stupid and I’d afforded enough stupidity for a lifetime, so I let Mallory harbour me. Dracula had unlimited access to my house since I had invited him in and closed doors and windows were no hindrance to him, as he had proved. Mallory was my best bet of avoiding him and staying safe, for now, and I could keep an eye on her to make sure she would be truly okay.

Mallory acted like usual, her ramblings, her chipper attitude, her easy laughter at the silliest things. Mallory, as before. Mallory, my best friend from college. Mallory, who had a scar on the side of her neck just like mine and, therefore, wasn’t at all like before. All she’d asked me on the following day after the wedding was how we got all the way from Berkeley Castle to Gloucester and how much she had had to drink. As a test I’d asked how she’d gotten hurt and she looked at me, bewildered, and said “I got hurt?”. When Dracula told me she wouldn’t remember anything, I didn’t expect her to not remember a single thing. I’d prepared a lengthy explanation but threw it away in favour of Mal’s bite-induced amnesia. Even when I went to change the bandage on her neck, she barely acknowledged me and simply stared ahead with empty eyes. She didn’t seem to notice the bite when she looked in the mirror, but every day before leaving the house, without a fault, she wrapped a scarf around her neck as if covering it was instinctive. A useful little trick in Dracula’s sleeve, I presumed.

“Tomorrow marks ten days, right?” She asked and I nodded. She motioned for me to scoot over and flopped down on the bed. “Can I just say that it’s weird that he gave you an ultimatum?”

“I was the one who asked for time.”

“Still weird. I mean, it must have been a huge fight. You said he was massively pissed.” She trained her large eyes on me, like one of Diana’s cats did when it wanted food. “And I’ve never seen you like this, Y/N. I thought you’d open up if you stayed with me. You cried the whole trip back from Gloucester and now you won’t shed a tear. You won’t talk about him. You’re sulking, and you never sulk. For a day maybe, yeah, you’ll sulk and throw a pity party like you did when you broke up with Paul a few years back, but then you’ll make yourself busy.”

Back in Gloucester, during breakfast at my rented flat, Mal, with a wound on her throat and face as pale as her hair, insisted for me to tell her what had happened and why I couldn’t stop crying. I’d told her what I could: that I’d lied to him about something, he found out and did something terrible and wanted me to explain myself in 10 days.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mal.”

“No, you never want to talk but that’s how you’ll heal. You’re on a rinse and repeat cycle of going to work, picking at your food, and then holing up in my guestroom with that poetry book. Where is it, by the way? Did you finally throw it away?”

I retrieved it from under the covers and set it on her lap. The book was warm to the touch. It slept with me, under the pillow or over my chest. Two days after the wedding, Mallory and I went to grab something to eat at a book cafe near our office. The cover, a large red rose overflowing from a jar as moths and butterflies decorated the edges, caught my eye and when I read the title announcing it to be a collection of Russian poetry, I instantly knew I had to have it. To find in those pages the tranquility I found inside Gloucester Cathedral; a moment in which I was wholly unreserved and Dracula had put his relentless pursuit of me on pause. A perfect memory in which I could have lived in forever.

“I thought you liked French poetry better,” Mallory said as she picked it up and opened it at random. “Why are you so obsessed with this book, anyway? Let’s see.” She took a deep breath and spit out the words on the page so fast that they barely sound like verses. “ I love you, I love you and as I rage at myself for this obsession, and as I make my shamed confession, despairing at your feet I lie, blah blah blah, my one reward for a day’s anguish comes when your, pale hand, love, I kiss. Okay, that part was nice.” She nodded in approval as her eyes skimmed down. “I dare not ask for love with all my many sins, both great and small, I am perhaps of love unworthy. God, that’s a bit depressing, isn’t it?”

“You found it!” The pages ruffled when I snatched the book from her hands.

“Found what?”

“But if feigned love, if you would pretend, you’d easily deceive me. For happily would I, believe me, deceive myself if but I could!” I completed as I read through the last lines. “You found it, Mal, you’re brilliant.”

“I just opened the book.” She shrugged. “Were you looking for this poem in particular?”

I nodded as I tried to read it from the start but my brain was foggy from sleep and the words weren’t making much sense.

“Oh my god,” Mal said and I looked up at her. “This has to do with Dracula, doesn’t it?”

“He recited it to me once. He told me it was Pushkin–”

“So you bought the book.” Mallory drew her eyebrows together.

“Well, I couldn’t remember the exact words to google them and I was curious– stop making that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you make when you watch Pride and Prejudice.”

She giggled.

“Your ten days are up tomorrow. What are you going to tell him?”

I closed the book and let it rest near my knee. “I don’t know what I’ll say,” I finally said in a shaky voice. “I really don’t.”

“Maybe if you tell me what happened, I can help.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

The bond wouldn’t let me utter a word about the true issue surrounding the Count to her; I suspected the loophole I’d found with Renfield and Zoe was because they already had previous knowledge of Dracula’s nature.

Mallory took my hand.

“I wish you’d cry, at least I would know what to do.”

I squeezed her hand as my eyes fell on her neck. A crystal choker covered the bite. She should be the one crying because she didn’t remember, because she had a gash at her throat that she didn’t recognise and because a monster of a man had attacked her. I should be the one taking care of her, not the way around. That’s why I’d bargained with Count Dracula in the first place.

“I do cry but only when I wake up,” I confessed. “The tears just come out of nowhere as soon as I open my eyes and then dry up when I realise I’m awake.” My voice wobbled at the last word and I slapped the pillow next to me. “Oh, now they come. Shit.”

Mallory laughed at my frustration and made me lay my head on her lap. Tears fell in soft thuds to the duvet, running over my nose and eyes as Mallory smoothed my hair.

“It’ll be okay, lovey. He’ll understand if he likes you, whatever you did he’ll forgive–”

“He won’t, Mal.”

“He will, he’s gotta. I saw the way he looked at you.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He was horrible. I don’t know how to begin to forgive him or if I can forgive him. He was nice to me and now I know that’s what mattered, that he was nice to me and only to me–” But he wasn’t nice just to me, he was also nice to Lucy. My chest constricted. “I don’t know if any of it was real or that he actually cares that he hurt yo– me,” I corrected. “He wants me as one wants precious jewels but that’s all it is. He wants to possess me.” The words were strung together between sobs. I barely understood myself so I knew Mal didn’t either but she still rubbed my shoulder to soothe me. “Why am I crying now? I’m done with crying and I don’t want to.”

I slammed a hand on the bed again but instead of the soft duvet, I found the book’s hard surface, and it hit me why I was crying.

From the moment I bought the book, I held onto it as if my life depended on it, skimming through pages during work breaks, sneaking glances at it during lunch, reading it faithfully yet slowly so it wouldn’t end too fast in search of that Pushkin stanza. I’d buried myself in Russian poetry, those biting words that hung on the edge of everyone’s lips, unsaid but that rang true, so I wouldn’t have to dwell on what to say. Perhaps those words would become mine and I wouldn’t have to say anything, not now or ever, and by some magic Dracula would understand. Then Mallory found the verses and I realised I still didn’t have the words. What did I have left to hold onto now that I didn’t need to search for Pushkin’s poem? The sweetness I searched for amidst the sting of my bitterness was gone and that moment in the cathedral wasn’t worth anything if Dracula killed me tomorrow.

Ten days wasted on poetry and in a moment that I would never have again. I wasn’t even sure if my voice would work when I tried explaining it to him. All I had planned was that I would tell him somewhere public in the hope that he still had enough scruples left to not kill me in front of witnesses.

“Diana called your phone when you were sleeping,” Mallory informed me as my sobs subsided. “Taking naps all afternoon and sleeping early won’t help you come up with an answer, you know.”

“It’s the only time when I don’t have to think about him.”

“You don’t dream about him?” She stopped playing with my hair for a second when I nodded and I felt a tug on a lock of hair. The slight resistance told me she was braiding my hair.  

“Just once since the wedding. I dreamt that he was driving and we were holding hands but then–” my hand was nearly crushed in his grip as he raised it to his mouth and tore my wrist open. Blood trickled down to his lap and a scarlet jet stained the windows. I smiled the whole time as he consumed me. “It wasn’t a good dream. Did you get Diana’s call?”

“Yeah. She’s worried about you, told me you only answered one of her calls since you came to stay with me. You have over 10 calls from your cousin, too.”

“My cousin?”

“Yeah, don’t you have a cousin in Manchester named Zoe?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” I hadn’t spoken with my cousin for over two years and her number was saved only as ‘Zee’. “Did Zoe call when I was asleep?” I asked in a neutral tone. I ignored every call from Dr. Van Helsing and if Mallory had answered the phone thinking she was talking to my cousin–

“No, but she must be worried about you. Give her a call back,” she said.

“I will,” I breathed, relieved. Eventually, I would talk to Zoe and tell her that I was done with her – that is, if I survived Count Dracula. With that, rose the question of why Zoe was still alive. Wouldn’t Dracula have killed her?

“Diana said she’s going up to Glasgow for work in a couple of days and that she wants to see you before that. I told her we could all grab lunch Thursday.”

“All right.” I sniffled and started getting up slowly so Mallory wouldn’t accidentally pull my hair. “I’m getting in the way of your night out, Mal.”

“Did you actually think I was going out?” She looked at me in disbelief. “It’s Monday, Y/N, we have work tomorrow. More importantly, I would never leave you here and go drinking.” I frowned as I gestured at her made up face. “I’m wearing PJ’s under my coat. I got ready in the hopes that you would suddenly change your mind when you saw me leaving the house and decide to actually move your arse out of bed,” she explained. I snorted. “A-ha, that was a near laugh!”

“That was a shit strategy. And you knew it wouldn’t work since you didn’t bother to change clothes.”

“Well, I tried everything else.” She jumped out of bed and peeled off the trench coat, revealing butterfly print pyjamas. “Come to the living room. We’ll order hamburgers and watch something.”

She was already leaving the room as I slipped out from under the covers.

“No rom-coms!”

“I wouldn’t torture you like that!” She yelled back from the living room. “Is Harry Potter good enough for you?”

“Great.”

It was familiar enough for me to repeat the lines in sync with the character and keep me distracted. Tomorrow I would figure out how to tell Count Dracula. As I made the bed, I grabbed the book from under the pillow and fingered through the pages. Pushkin’s words didn’t jump out at me and I hadn’t memorised the page number when Mallory found it. For the best, probably.

I set the book aside and went to the living room when Mal called my name.

__________________________________________________________

“L/N, can I see you before you go?”

Talbot’s voice made Mallory and I stop on the way to the lift; my mobile chimed inside my purse and my fingers tightened around the purse’s strap. Another chime reached my ears as I turned back to meet Talbot with Mal on my heels. Whether she had followed me because a partner was summoning me and it was a good opportunity for her to be noticed or because she was fairly acquainted with my phone’s chimes and particularly what they meant today, I didn’t know, but I was glad to have her at my side anyway.

Golden orange sunlight refracting through a window hit my face when I stopped before Talbot and I forced myself to breathe properly. I still had a couple more minutes, an hour if I was being optimistic, before the sun went down and I had to meet Dracula, who didn’t seem to pay much attention to it; he had been texting me since four in the afternoon.

“Yes?” The word was strangled.

Talbot’s severe face didn’t seem to notice my anxious tone and simply nodded at Mallory before settling his cataract ridden eyes on me.

“Do you have anything on your schedule tomorrow at 3pm?”

“No, I don’t think I do, sir. Why?”

“I need you in court.” He handed me a thick manila folder he had hidden behind his back.

“A new case?” I took the file automatically. “But sir, I’m already flooded with them. And court tomorrow? I won’t have the time to prepare–”

“Of course you’ll have time to prepare. You’ll have the rest of the day and night, and tomorrow until three. Pulling all-nighters is part of every good attorney’s job.”

I smothered an offended huff.

“I’m aware, sir.” I paused, and my phone chimed again. I could feel my pulse on my throat. “Unfortunately, I have a commitment tonight and I can’t take this case. Mallory will gladly take it in my pla–”

“I’m sure Miss Nowak would do a wonderful job,” he considered her briefly “but this case can only be taken care of by you. It was originally Miss Grisham’s, your colleague, but she had to go under an emergency surgery yesterday – wicked things, spleens, don’t you think? – and the Judge on this case refused to reschedule a court date.” He scoffed. “Apparently, Grisham had already been granted several reschedules and Judge Llewellyn won’t have it again, which is precisely why this case must be yours. As I understand you have a win inside Llewellyn’s courtroom, which might bode well for you– for us at the firm. Llewellyn is notoriously a difficult man and I hear he’s been mouthing good things about you. No one in this office has ever won before him, except for you and Renfield.”

My phone started ringing loudly and I gave my purse a thwack as if that would shut it up. Talbot eyed my purse.

“Sir, like I said, I have a personal engagement that I can’t dismiss. It’s best that I don’t take a new case. Give it to Mallory, she’ll do as good a job as I would and then this firm will have three lawyers with wins before Llewellyn.”

A new case meant I would have to prepare an opening statement, not to say I would have to spend countless hours studying every small detail to not be stomped to the ground by the prosecutor. The remaining sunlight only gave me a few more minutes to work out my own closing statement – the very last closing statement I would do in my life, perhaps, considering it was entirely dependent on Count Dracula’s verdict – if I took that case I would have to neglect it in favour of my own troubles.

“You’ll take it.”

“Sir, I can’t–”

“Don’t be ridiculous, L/N,” argued Talbot. “If your engagement has anything to do with your phone’s incessant noise–” as if by command, the tune stopped “–then turn it off. Whatever it is, it can be rescheduled. This case cannot.”

Rage built up my chest; I could swallow it down before it reached my throat but the lump there wouldn’t let it pass as easily as it would allow it to burst out. And I didn’t want to swallow it down so more rage could merge with heartache. I’d had enough with rage and I wouldn’t let Talbot bully me into something that I couldn’t do in the benefit of his own interests.

“Any lawyer here would be happy to do it. I can’t,” I said as I offered him the file back. He opened his mouth to protest and didn’t accept the manila folder. “You don’t understand, you absolute c–”

“She’ll take it,” Mallory intervened, squeezing my arm and interrupting whatever name I was about to call him. One of Talbot’s eyes twitched as he evaluated me and he rose his chin, nodding at Mal for the interruption.

“I see Nowak has managed to keep her sense. I hope she’ll teach you some.” He gestured towards the lift. “You may go. Do not disappoint me, L/N.” He turned on his heel and disappeared inside his office.

I started stalking after him, picturing his outraged face when I threw the file on his desk, but Mal jerked me back.

“Are you crazy?” She shook me. “You almost called a partner the c-word–”

“You can say he’s a cunt, it’s not like it’s a lie.”

“Y/N!” She exclaimed, looking around us as if to check if anyone had heard that. “Being angry won’t solve your crap, and you can’t just shrug off work because of a relationship. Focus. Dracula is just a guy but this is your job. If he’s right for you he’ll understand.  It’s not like he’ll die if he waits one more day so you two can talk.”

I stared out the window. My phone chimed, and then started ringing. The sun was still up and I wagered it would stay that way until I went home. As soon as it was dark, Dracula would be there. I could propose a meeting spot but I’d made enough demands – he had said so himself. He was done making concessions for me, and if I said one thing, one thing that didn’t please him, that sounded off to his ears, he would probably tear open my neck and leave me to die by myself on the quietness of my home. There were plenty of things in my speech that needed adjustments to prevent that, several things, actually, that I wasn’t sure I had worded properly. And I hadn’t rehearsed anything, either.

“You know you’re not mad at Talbot,” Mallory said, as though she knew I was pondering the situation. “Dracula will understand.”

My phone stopped ringing and then started shortly after.

“He won’t stop calling until I answer him,” I said. But I’d already made my decision. I’d made it the moment Mallory said I would take the case.

“Then turn off your phone. You’ll concentrate better. I’ll even help you,” she offered. I glanced at her. “I can see in your face that you’re dreading going home. You can stay at my house one more night, or how many more you want, and I’ll help you study your case. You’ll worry about Dracula tomorrow after the court session with Llewellyn , okay?”

Working this case was a perfectly reasonable excuse not to answer his calls and texts. It was good enough for me but I knew it wouldn’t be good enough for Dracula. It would give me more time to work on what to say, although I had the feeling that nothing I said would ever be good enough for him.

What did matter if he had to wait one more day? I was dead anyway.

“Okay,” I finally said. Mal smiled at me. I didn’t have the strength to retribute it.

“Text him and say you’ll see him tomorrow.”

I fished my phone out of my purse. The name ‘Count Dracula’ blinking on the screen made me frown. I pressed the button next to the screen until it went fully black.

“My phone battery is dead for all he cares.” I dumped the phone back in my purse. “Let’s go, Mal. Quickly. He’ll come here looking for me when he realises I’m not picking up.”

______________________________________________________________

Count Dracula tilted his head as he watched the man crawl between tables, shoulders clumsily bumping into a table leg as he tried to hide. Sobs escaped his mouth. Dracula pushed one of the bodies at his feet with the heel of his shoe as the man shrunk into the darkness beneath the table. The man’s ragged breathing made the Count’s bloodstained lips twitch. He made a show of looking around the blackened interior of the pub, putting weight into his strides so the floorboards would creak as he stepped over another body, pretending that he couldn’t see him in his hiding place.

This game of hide-and-seek never failed to amuse the Count but it wasn’t as fun in an enclosed space such as this. It made him miss his castle. If it was his castle, he would throw the man into one of the dungeon’s cells to play with him another moment. But here, in a London pub where he had already engorged himself until his cheeks were ruddy, he only had so much time before sunrise. He wasn’t thirsty anymore and he would have to go home soon to rest his head again, only to be assailed by dreams of Y/N.

“I won’t hurt you,” Dracula declared, throwing his head back. The low ceiling had beer stains. The cleaning staff, the one dead at his feet, must not do a very good job of cleaning the place. “You can come out.”

A whimper came from under the table but the man made no attempt to reveal himself. Dracula waited for a few seconds to give him a chance and then crossed the distance between them and lifted the table. Wide brown eyes filled with mindless fear stared up at Count Dracula in a skinny face.

“Get up,” the Count demanded and discarded the table to the side, leaving the man without his illusion of protection. “Come sit with me.” He took a seat at a table at the centre of the pub and snatched a napkin from it. Red gloves of blood left stains on every white napkin he touched. The man – boy, from the looks of him – just watched and Dracula flicked dark eyes toward him. “Now.”

Slowly, so very slowly, the boy stood up and took small steps toward the table. He threatened to snap in half like a twig from all his shaking. Count Dracula motioned for him to take a seat as he wiped his face and hands with napkins. The boy sat.

“I think…” Dracula began. “No. What would you do in my place?”

“W-what?”

“I gave her ten days. Today is Tuesday, the tenth day, and she wasn’t at her house. She won’t answer my calls and my texts. She was at her office today but left early according to–” what was the woman’s name? Caroline? Christine? Camille? Ah, Chelsea. She’d slipped him her number before he left the office at Canary Wharf. He would have considered keeping it, if only to feed from her, but Y/N wouldn’t like that. Ten days could stretch into twenty or a month if he fed from Chelsea. “She’s avoiding me. What would you do?”

The boy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to formulate an answer. He glanced at the parade of dead bodies around them and then back at Count Dracula.

“Um, who is– hm. W-why is she av-voiding you?”

Dracula nodded, smiling lightly. He was impressed that the boy had managed to restrain his fear for a while but he knew very well the boy was merely entertaining him until he started bargaining for his life. They always did.

“I did something,” said Dracula.

“This kind of something?” He gestured with his head toward the body closest to them and then his face turned red and shuddered.

“No.” He frowned. “Worse, I think. I don’t know, to be perfectly honest. What matters is that she’s avoiding me. I gave her ten days and she said we would talk. She said she knew not to flee. I can hunt for her but–” He threw the used napkins on the table, giving up on making himself presentable. There wasn’t any point to it with six bodies strewn metres away from him. “I don’t want to hunt what’s mine. She should come willingly.”

“Yeah,” the boy drew out. “But maybe she needs more time? I don’t know what you did, man, but if it was worse than this–”

“I bit her friend,” Dracula admitted.

The boy gaped.

“I– I’m sure you had a good reason to.”

“Are you?”

“I only mean–” he said, hunching his shoulders. “I mean, I… I don’t know?”

Count Dracula tipped in his chair and balanced himself so he could lever his feet on the table and cross them. Black leather shoes with small rounded dents at the tips shone at him. He hadn’t worn another pair since the wedding, when Y/N’s heels left those prints there. He didn’t know what that meant. He only knew that he couldn’t remember Y/N’s smile with the same clarity that he could remember her face stricken with black tears.

“Did she cheat on you?” The boy tried.

Dracula laughed mirthlessly.

“In a manner, but she assured me that she had stopped.”

“So, uh, why did you kill her friend?”

“I didn’t kill Mallory. I bit her, that’s all.” He’d bitten her without Y/N’s explanation, which he still didn’t have. “Do you think I exaggerated?”

“Um– uh, no?”

“I don’t like liars.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry.” The boy rubbed his nose. “My name is Trent.” Dracula’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand the relevance of that. “I’m only 19. I live in Whitechapel with my parents and sisters. I’ve got three cats–”

“Why are you telling me this?” Dracula glared at him. And then chuckled. “Oh, are you attempting to sensitize me about who you are so I won’t kill you? I’ve seen that on TV. People have been using that trick for centuries, too. It’s never worked on me. In fact, I think it’s kind of fun. First name basis is important, isn’t it? Makes things more intimate when I kill you.” He bared his teeth at the boy in a grin. “I asked you a question, Trent.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

The words echoed. Y/N had said the same. Dracula massaged the bridge of his nose.

“I changed my mind. Maybe it’ll change again if you answer me.”

Trent shook violently again and started rocking back and forth in his seat.

“I forgot what you asked me.”

“Do you think I exaggerated?” Dracula repeated. The boy looked around them. “Not about this. I know you might believe this is a bit much but it helps me not to think. However, I’m in need of a good talk now. So amuse me, Trent. Do you think I shouldn’t have bitten Mallory?”

“Uh. This other girl you've been talking about… Do you fancy her?” Trent’s thin eyebrows arched, trying to summon a serious expression. Dracula merely bobbed his head. “And you said she’s, huh, yours.” He looked at Dracula and he nodded again. “From what you’re telling me, you want her back. If she’s avoiding you, maybe she’s scared?” His eyes widened as if he realised he’d said something wrong. “Or, or, or! Or maybe she’s waiting for an apology?” He shrugged. “Did you try talking to her, eh, before you bit this Mallory bird?”

The Count ignored the last question.

“She owes me an apology.”

“Yeah, sure she does,” the boy agreed. “But don’t you think you oughta apologise, too? I mean… uh. I don’t know. I’ve never been cheated on but I don’t think biting someone is the right way to go about it.”

Maybe not.

Maybe if he had asked Y/N about it, he wouldn’t have to wait ten days to speak to her. If he had, she wouldn’t have cried. It could have been a terribly simple explanation and she would have kissed him again. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone on a murder rampage for the last days to keep memories of Y/N from permeating his every dream and thought.

Or, and it was just as likely, it wasn’t simple at all. She had learnt how to lie to him. He was certain that she could have lied about everything. It could all have been an act to fool him – the sudden interest in the taste of blood, her questions about his life before a vampire and after, her rare ability to see through him sometimes, the gleam in her eyes at the cathedral… The kiss. But the utter betrayal in her face, the acrid smell of fear, how her voice trembled as she wept, those weren’t false. When she said yes to him, covered in her friend’s blood with her dress ruined and hair in shambles, he knew she had spoken the truth. She had no other reason to lie after what he had done. And now, he found himself doubting if everything else was not all lies.

It didn’t matter.

He had destroyed it. And he knew that if he could go back in time to fix it, he would have done it all the same. She confused him. She had made a fool out of him like no one else had in half a millennia, and she would make a fool out of him for the next millennia as well. Despite what she had done, she was his, whether she liked it or not. He was willing to wait a few more days for her to come to him.

Count Dracula massaged the bridge of his nose again.

“Thank you, Trent.”

The boy’s heart drummed, his blood streaming inside of him in rapid currents. Dracula could hear the noise it made, like a wind howl against a window.

“Are you gonna let me go?”  

“Yes, I will.” He flashed the boy a quick smile. “Although you haven’t been much help, I’m feeling merciful right now.” Trent exhaled a shaky breath and started getting up. “One last thing” – the boy looked up at that, watery brown eyes filled with alarm again – “you didn’t say… what would you do in my place?”

“Uhh–” he paused, panic flaring up and making the drumming in Dracula’s ears become louder. “Show that you care? Apologise if you want her back. She’ll apologise, too.” Dracula just stared. “Or do something nice for her. Especially nice.” Trent sniffled. “That’s what my dad does when my mum is mad at him, and it works.”

Trent waited as Dracula nodded, and then started shuffling across the pub in a slow pace as if he was doing his best not to draw attention.

He eyed the dents on his shoes and felt Y/N’s lips on his. He couldn’t wait five or ten years to feel them again and in order to have that, he would have to make amends. But then he thought of all the lies again and the taste of Mallory’s blood pouring down his throat and all the memories that came with it. A pungent reminder of how unreasonable he had become since meeting Y/N.

Trent was almost at the exit door.

“On second thought!” He called, planting both feet on the slippery red floor. The boy turned around to look at him and Count Dracula bared sharp teeth as he stood up from his seat. “I feel like having dessert.”

The boy ran.

His fingers brushed the doorknob but didn’t manage to grip it. Dracula blocked the way. Trent squealed and his entire body trembled in such force that the Count thought he could hear his bones rattling. He smiled at that and grabbed the boy’s shoulder to stop him from scuttling away.

Trent was as pale as a sheet, so much so that it was difficult to make out defining features on his face, but the shapeless, quivering thing on his face was most definitely a bottom lip moving as his teeth chattered.

“Ah, don’t be like that. I’ll make it quick, as a thanks.” Dracula stroked the boy’s cheek, pointed nails grazing the skin, and he shuddered. “Truly, you gave me quite the idea. But you see, it’s almost dawn, and I need a last bedtime snack to clear my head. You just so happen to be nearby.”

“Please, I–”

“No, no, no, no. Begging won’t get you anywhere and I’ve heard enough of ‘please’ tonight. I’ll make it quick and you won’t beg. Are we agreed?” He cocked an eyebrow. Trent shut his eyes and nodded. Dracula patted his face. “Good boy.”

Dracula turned Trent’s face to the side. He was met with no resistance as he lowered his head to tear through the soft flesh on the boy’s neck. Trent stopped trembling as Dracula’s teeth slashed deep and blood flowed inside his mouth. Memories started materialising but he ignored it and allowed himself to be swept away until nothing else invaded his mind except the taste of blood, its warmth cascading over his body and leaving him no choice but to be inundated with unrestrained elation.

He swallowed hurriedly and, in no time, the flow became sluggish and he began taking it less urgently. If he drank too fast, he would miss it. He waited for it to come as one waits for the first rain to pour, waits for it to wash remains, and to bring restoration. Ecstasy flitted across his deepest thoughts only to be replaced with perfect numbness. Sublime anesthesia and a brief glimpse into the true death he would never feel.

The emptiness he sought, the complete erasure of all thoughts, was the one thing that brought him relief and wiped the image of Y/N’s face. Her rancour and her grief that turned those eyes cruel to cut through him when she saw him with Mallory but, worst of all, the resignation that made her voice docile, almost cowed when she begged him for time. It touched something in him. Something that made him desperate to get rid of it, so abnormal was this sensation, that his only solution was to engorge himself with blood.

Only she had this effect on him. Usually he was picky with his food, choosing when should each dish be savoured and in which order. All it took for that to change was for Y/N to look him in the eye at the Victoria and Albert Museum and say that taking her there was the nicest thing someone had ever done for her. And he simply couldn’t understand that, couldn’t understand he had enjoyed knowing that, that he had enjoyed making her happy, and that he was possibly growing infatuated by her. Not in the way he had grown attached to Agatha or Johnny. It was entirely different; a foreign feeling. It had driven him to feast on a board of directors in an attempt to obliterate the memory. And it had worked for a little while but each time she managed to pull at his control until he wasn’t sure if he had any control whatsoever.

Dracula dropped Trent’s lifeless body.

The anesthesia had faded and here he was, thinking of Y/N again.

He groaned in frustration, wiped his chin and left the darkened pub with its new decor of blood carpets and artfully painted walls.

.

.

.

Taglist: @festering-queen​ @feralstare​ @rheabalaur​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @dreamer2381​ @illbegoinhome​ @girlonfireice​ @deborahlazaroff​ @saint-hardy​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @iwasjustablur​ @princessayveke​ @vampirescurse​ @crossoverqueen89​ @blue-serendipity​ @sunscreenfeverdream​ @25ocurer​ @daydreaming136​ @hello-itsbarbie​

[johannstutt413]

(requested by mathmaticalknight)

“Are they really doing this to me right now?” The Doctor sighed as he shuffled through recruitment files. “I know I shouldn’t new recruits at our door every day, but this is on a whole different level...”

Pramanix looked over his shoulder and tutted. “They’re sending in their own files as filler now? And they expect you to pay for all this paper?”

“I’ve seen Gravel’s name at the top of these twelve times today, so it’s not just theirs.” He shook his head.

“I could go talk to them, if you want.” She ruffled his hair. “Red’s still watching the girls, and I feel like giving someone a little hell today.”

He smiled to himself as he turned to look at her, putting both hands around the closer of hers. “It’s fine, dear; I’ll just stop going through them right now, give my eyes a break. Since you’re free, though, couch?”

“Is that even a question?” Anya helped him up so they could flop onto the double-wide he’d gotten for the office exactly for moments like this.

“I hope they’re not too annoyed with how slow their job must be sometimes,” the Doctor continued once he was enveloped in pillowy Pramanix-ness. “Spending hours and hours doing busywork gets boring for me, so imagining a thankless job like theirs in the same state-”

That was the Feline’s cue to shush him with an impromptu kiss. “Don’t let them off the hook that easily. It’s still a waste of company time and money to do things like that.”

“But our snuggling is fine?”

“Our snuggling keeps your moral up, so I’d say it’s actually the most important work I can do as your assistant.” She rolled her eyes. “Now are you going to let me help you relax or not?”

He chuckled at that. “Alright, alright, I’ll be good now.”

“Good. Now, what shall we dream of today?” As a bell softly chimed, Anya began giving the Doctor an in-person ASMR experience, and the office melted away to a dreamscape.

Of course, the folks in HR didn’t know about this. Nor would it be able to stop the forces at work that’d enabled this whole thing in the first place.

It’d started with Orchid, actually; she’d been working on transferring to the Trading Post crew and printed her resume to send to them, but accidentally sent it into the Doctor for approval...and for some reason, that’d gone through as a ‘recruitment’ submission.

“Hey, Utage, quick question.” Aciddrop, who’d only joined the office recently, noticed this and tried to get the Nue’s attention. “That isn’t s’posed to work, is it?”

“...How the hell did she do that? Hey, how do we do this?” She looked over to Ethan, who was at his desk surfing the fiction-writing forums he visited.

The Savra jumped up and walked over to their desk. “Oh, that? Just make copies of old resumes and send them through the system. Rangers taught me that during training.”

“We can do that?” The Liberi’s ear-feathers started twitching. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Utage?”

“Oh, I knooow I am!” She replied as she dashed over to the cabinet and started grabbing old files that were easy to copy.

Ethan chuckled as he went back to his desk. “Save me a couple of ‘em, too; still waiting to hear back from the guys we sent to talk to that travelling actor fella, could use a break.”

“Sure thing.” Utage dropped a stack of twenty or so files off next to the scanner. “Let’s have some fun~”

------

A few hours later, and the Doctor woke up to what looked like a power outage, but was in fact just being under a very snuggly Feline. “Still asleep, dear?” He asked, otherwise staying still.

“Mmhmm,” Anya mumbled, somewhere in between.

“That’s alright, but I should probably check my messages.” He managed to slink out from under her without disturbing her too much, but it became a moot point once he saw his messages. “Holy shit! There’s over three hundred messages from HR here?!”

Pramanix sat up, rubbing her eyes. “All recruitment?”

“Yeah...and all repeats.” The Doctor groaned. “Even if we did get someone new, I’d never- wait. No, there is someone I don’t recognize on this list, wanting to come in for an interview in...ten minutes? We can do that, right, dear?”

“Ten minutes? Um, sure. Does the file say a codename, at least?”

He nodded. “Someone named ‘Mint?’ Huh...apparently she’s from King’s Wand. I guess we’ll see her soo- that’s it, I’m going to go talk to them. This is way too much.”

Meanwhile, at the HR office:

“What do you mean, you broke the messaging system?!” Orchid was pulling out feathers and hair at her office, which was attached to but technically different from the rest of HR. “How many duplicates did you send?”

“Well, we sent like nine or ten, but then Eyjafjalla found out about what we were doing and offered to make it more efficient by making a program for us...and then Ethan and Provence made it more efficient...It’s sending recruitment notices so fast we can’t actually stop it without shutting down the whole network.” Aciddrop and Utage were standing sheepishly on the other side of the desk, feeling rather foolish as the instigators of what was now essentially a system-breaking insider hack.

The Liberi in charge just shook her head. “This is ridiculous...I’ll shut it down for the day, and if we manage to get in touch with any of our current options, I’ll just fax their records to his office.”

“*Knock knock* Miss Orchid?” Eyjafjalla popped her head through the door. “Senpai’s here to talk to you.”

“Tell him we’re working on getting it shut down, please, Eyja.”

The Doctor popped his head through the door, too. “Shutting what down?”

“The auto-messager your kouhai installed in our system to help these two with their prank.” Orchid gestured to the other Liberi and the Nue.

“Ah. Good job applying your problem-solving skills, Eyja.” He gave her a couple headpats before smiling at the rest of them. “If you guys can, I’d try seeing if you can automate the whole thing like that, and I’ll just set filters on my notifications.”

All three of them looked at him for a moment before Aciddrop spoke up. “You’re not mad?”

“Nah. Got to cuddle the wife thanks to it, after all. You girls keep up the good work.” And with that, he was gone.

“That was...not how I expected that to go,” Utage admitted as Eyja walked into the office properly. “How the hell did we luck out like that?”

Only Eyja noticed as Tsukinogi returned to her desk from the entrance to the office, smiling to herself...

[another-cancer]

Found Family

So I don’t post original work here, but here I am...

This can also be found on my Wattpad and AO3 both are @another_cancer

For Maribat March: Day 1 Theme: Found Family

No Ship

Bruce 46

Dick 27

Jason 22

Tim 20

Marinette 18

Damian 13

When Marinette moved to Gotham 3 months ago she never expected it to go so well. So didn’t expect it to fail, she just figured she’d live like the average Gotham citizen, glum, angry, and dark. Instead, her business is taking off and she had friends and family in Gotham. People that cared about her and people she cared about. 

It started a week after she arrived in Gotham. She applied for an entry-level job at Wayne Enterprises and had just received news of her hiring. She was as excited as someone who got a job as a secretary got. Eventually, Marinette wanted to go to university and get a degree, but it was on the back burner for the time being. For now, she was relying on her basic skills in human decency. Which is more than some of her ex-classmates could say. 

Marinette left everything in Paris. Her parents practically disowned her after the reveal, and they had been the only ones keeping her. Well besides Adrien and Chat who she now knew was the same person. But, he moved to London to be with his family after the reveal.

God the damn reveal. The reveal ruined her life because Paris was being protected by children and people didn’t like living with that knowledge. Even if Ladybug and Chat had finally defeated Hawkmoth, even if Ladybug and Chat had taken care of the city for years. The two had given up their childhood to be under-appreciated in the long run. Then Fu took the miraculous and it was all just over. Gone just like that, so she left. 

But back to where it started. A week after she moved to Gotham and a day before she started her new job at Wayne Enterprises. She was at a small cafe near her new job. It happened right after she took the first bite out of the breakfast sandwich she had ordered. 

The Scarecrow entered with some goons. 

“Well, this shall do,” he said to no one in particular, “20 people, the perfect sample for my new fear toxin, anyone want to go first?” No one spoke up and Marinette was already panicking. 

She did her research. And she had no interest in being drugged and forced to see her fears play out. So she went into Ladybug mode and accessed the situation. 20 hostages, 6 goons, and the Scarecrow. Not every goon had a weapon. The two guarding the door had guns and one more had one aimed at the hostages. 

While accessing the situation Marinette appeared calm to Scarecrow. He didn’t like calm people. He nodded over to his goons tilting his head towards the blunette they got the message. And so did she. Marinette froze. She knew there was no cure here. 

A needle was injected into her neck. Her fears came to life.

She was back in Paris. The final battle. But this isn’t a memory. This isn’t how it happened.

“Chat!” she screams.

Hawkmoth has him and she lungs at the villain. Let go of him. Gabriel gets hit right in the jaw, there was enough power behind it to make him stubble over releasing Chat. 

Marinette delivers a second punch and a third, they keep coming and with it, she yells, “That’s for ruining my life, and that’s for ruining your son’s life.”

Eventually, he’s out cold and she’s curled up into a ball. 

That’s when another needle enters her neck. She reaches for the arm behind her and twists it, only to see Red Robin, one of Gotham’s vigilantes. 

“It’s the antidote,” he says trying to calm the girl. She nods.

That was the first step in finding her new family. Six days later the second encounter happened with one Dick Grayson. Dick recognized the girl from a clip he had seen of a petite girl taking down Scarecrow while under the influence of the fear toxin. Tim had done some research to find out her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was working for Wayne Enterprise. So here she was at her desk while he combs the building looking for a sleep-deprived Tim. 

“Can I help you with something?” Marinette asked him.

Dick was staring. Shit. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m just looking for my brother, dark hair, blue eyes, sleep-deprived, have you seen him around?”

“Oh, you must be Mr. Drake’s brother. He picked up his coffee and went up to his office.

“Thank you, miss…” Dick knew her name but didn’t want it to seem weird. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but just Marinette is fine.”

“You were the girl on the news right? Involved in a Scarecrow attack?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide she did not expect that question. She didn’t realize the event was televised. Then it hit her that’s why most of her co-workers were looking at her strangely the last couple of days. They watched her knock a rouge out cold. Her fears were scary to them. They were even scared of her. Except for Tim Drake the freakin CEO who had no problem talking to her in the morning about coffee. 

“Yeah,” she responded, “I didn’t know it was televised, but that makes a lot of sense.”

“It was a pretty badass takedown.”

She let out a snort, “Thanks.”

If only her encounters with the bats and Waynes ended there. Nope, the next one happened two weeks later. At this point, Dick visited the office quite often to see Tim and have a conversation with Mari. And Tim had been trading coffee recipes with her. She even signed up for a kickboxing class, it became an outlet. 

Jason Todd was in her kickboxing class. 

Most people had already forgotten about the scarecrow incident so when she arrived at the class most people did a double-take at her size. That was until she got to kickbox there was power behind every punch and kick she delivered to the bag. She was fierce. Jason was amazed. 

On the way out he asked her, “Where’d you learn to fight like that, Pixie?”

It caught her off guard, but she answered the question, “Paris, learned when I was younger for self-defense.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. She learned by experience starting when she was 13 to defend herself and the rest of her city from akumas. But that news never left Paris and she wasn’t going to change that. Here her life was finally normal. 

“Cool, we should spar together sometime,” Jason said. 

So they did and she kicked his ass. Then they started hanging out. Eventually, he invited her to the manor. She was shocked on arrival. She did not realize Jason was loaded. This was the kind of place she expected from someone like Tim, a CEO. Jason had told her he grew up as a street kid until he got adopted. But this shock couldn’t even compare to the shock that ran through her when she walked through the door to find Tim, Dick, and Jason. 

“Mari! Jason your friend is Marinette and you didn’t say anything?” Tim yelled at Jason.

“Wait you guys know Pixie?” Jason asked.

“She works at Wayne Enterprise,” Dick stated.

“Well, I am aware of that, we are friends. We talk about things,” Jason said, “but I wasn’t aware you knew all the employees there. I shouldn’t be surprised though Pixie is really cool and her work ethics are crazy, yet extremely organized.”

The conversation of who knows who went on for a bit. Eventually, they ended up all hanging out and this was only the first time she visited the manor. She met Bruce and Damian on her 3rd visit when she stayed for dinner.

“So Marinette, did you leave Paris due to Hawkmoth?” Bruce asked at dinner.

She froze, “You know?”

“Yes. I heard it had been dealt with.”

“How much do you know?”

Everyone at the table was a bit confused by the question. It was clear she was being defensive. But why. What was she hiding? 

“There was an emotional terrorist wasn’t there?” Damian bluntly asked. 

“That’s all you know?” Marinette asked.

They weren’t supposed to know this information, it was all confidential reserved to Parisians only. Did they know she was Ladybug? That was the real question on her mind. Would this change anything?

She ended up explaining what happened in Paris. She told them about Hawkmoth and about being Ladybug. Having her identity revealed, being disowned and all the backlash she received. Damian suddenly approved of her while Jason was outraged. Dick was shocked, and Tim sat there with this smug look on his face.

“She’s one of us?” Jason asked. 

“What do you mean by one of us?” Marinette questioned in return. 

The room looked at Jason, “What she was going to find out eventually, I mean look at her dark hair, blue eyes, she’ll fit right in. Bruce will probably pull out adoption papers by the end of the week. And if not someone will eventually spill.”

“Hate to admit it, but Jason has a point.”

Then it clicked in Marinette’s head. “Oh my god. You guys are vigilantes. You guys are the bats, aren’t you?”

Everyone but Damian gave a grin. Now 3 months after moving to Gotham Marinette has had adoption papers shoved into her hands several times and ended up moving into the manor. She gained a family. And got to be a vigilante. 

Words: 1568