#i just don’t look back at the other two fondly in any way even remotely like this

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

You don’t understand, when I was at my worst with my depression, and every time I looked up at the night sky and grew scared of how small we are, how alone we might be, how short our time is, how I couldn’t comprehend infinity, how everything will end eventually, how everything I see way out there is long gone, I would panic. I would break down. The stars themselves scared me. But one day doctor who was put on Netflix and a comment on a deviant post reminded me of a deal I made with another user. If I watch doctor who they’ll watch the time travel show I thought was cool. I watched it on a whim, I’m not sure I’d even encountered it much on tumblr yet. But it made me feel less small. I began to actually look at the night sky without abject terror. I thought about how if you looked at it more like, idk, a learning adventure? When you heard new things about it, it wasn’t as scary. Something that could inspire writers to create such adventures and have normal people characters tag along… I got less scared. When everything started being galaxy print I thought it was pretty and not horrifying. It’s long been a trendy pattern of the last decade or so, perhaps a bit less, but I still see cool looking art inspired by images from space telescopes that were made to have different colors for invisible wavelengths so that humans could see… idk. It makes me happy. It’s like I’m less scared, and now I don’t even feel like I need there to be life on other planets for me to stop feeling alone, because there is so much life on this one! Even if I was the only human on earth, I still wouldn’t be alone just from being on this life filled planet. And I’m not the only human.

That’s not an experience I’ve had from many stories, it was one of those things that you encounter at just the right time for your view of the world to be changed for the better. Something that lodges itself inside of you and makes you better than you were before. I’ll always remember it fondly because of that. I know there is a lot I never watched and maybe one day I’ll catch up, but the fact is that what I DID see was enough to change me as a person. To make my existential dread just a little bit less all encompassing and inspire more curiosity in me.

[junekissed]

jingle & bell

member — wonwoo x reader genre — fluff word count — 1.3k synopsis — you didn’t plan on adding new members to your family, but when you find two kittens left on your doorstep, wonwoo makes it his mission to convince you to keep them. warnings — fiancé!wonwoo, unbearably adorable kittens, scheming wonu, stubborn reader but not for long teehee notes — lowercase intended. i am very soft i hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing this bc oh my god when is it my turn i want a wonwoo

one reblog = two kittens wearing santa hats

“what the hell was that?”

it was late in the evening when you’d been curled up on the couch, watching a movie with your fiancé. already halfway through december, it’s prime movie marathon season, especially for the cheesy holiday romance movies the both of you love but are adamant that you hate. all the house lights are turned off, except for the dim strings of white lights hung from the stairs. the snow outside that begins to fall heavier as the night goes on only adds to the cozy holiday atmosphere in your home.

the two main characters are just about to share their first kiss, when all of a sudden you hear a loud banging on the front door. clearly whoever it is means business.

you jump, instinctively grabbing wonwoo’s arm and moving closer to him. he leans forward to grab the remote and pause the movie as you cling to him.

he exchanges a glance with you. “should i go check?”

you grip him tighter. “well– no, wait a second! what if it’s a murderer or something?”

“i don’t think they’d knock.”

“well, why else would they be outside our house this late?”

he laughs a little. “that’s exactly why i’m gonna go check.”

you pull your blanket further onto your lap. “fine… but just go look through the peephole, don’t open it.”

he nods and pushes his wire glasses further up his nose, standing up from the couch. tentatively he walks over to the front door, pulling the curtain aside from the window to peek out.

“there’s no one out there,” he calls, turning to shrug at you. “i’m gonna open it.”

“don’t!” you squeak, but it’s too late. wonwoo’s already turning the knob, opening the door, and–

“oh my god,” he says, stepping outside.

“who is it? wonwoo?” you call nervously. “what is it?”

he backs into the room, the door shutting behind him. he turns around to reveal what he’s holding.

“a box?” you cry. “don’t touch it! it could be a bomb!”

“it’s not a bomb, i promise,” he laughs, coming closer to the couch to show you what’s inside. “it’s–”

“–kittens?” you finish. your mouth hangs open

two tiny white heads peek out from the side of the basket, crying softly. you drag your gaze away from them to see wonwoo grinning down at them.

“aren’t they so cute?” he says dotingly, balancing the box in one hand and bringing his other hand up to gently scratch behind their little ears, brushing stray snowflakes out of their tiny faces.

“who the hell is leaving kittens on our front porch? it’s the middle of winter!” you say.

he ignores you, continuing to play with the tiny creatures. the room fills with quiet mews as wonwoo watches them fondly.

“is there a note or something?” you ask, finally standing up.

“i didn’t see one,” he answers. he sets the box on the table in front of the couch so you can look inside.

“well… what are we gonna do with them?” you ask. “we can’t just keep them.”

wonwoo frowns, but his eyes stay trained on the kittens. “why not?”

you cross your arms. “‘cause they belong to somebody, probably!”

“if somebody’s leaving kittens on a stranger’s porch at midnight, whoever it is probably doesn’t want them.”

you sigh. “i guess.”

wonwoo reaches down and gently lifts one of the kittens from the box, and it immediately starts mewing. “the least we can do is take them to a shelter and see if they have all their shots.”

“there’s no way any shelter is gonna be open now,” you say. “it’s almost midnight, nothing’s open this late.”

he grins, cradling the kitten against his chest. “then we’ll just have to keep them until the shelter opens tomorrow.” and as much as you want to, you can’t argue with that.

“fine,” you surrender, knowing you won’t be able to do anything about it tonight. “but you’re gonna be the one taking care of them.”

he grins. “pinky promise i will.”

you watch as wonwoo places the box in the corner of the room by the heater, then leaves the room and returns with a stack of fluffy folded towels. he kneels in front of the box, carefully stuffing the towels inside to keep the little creatures warm. you can’t help but smile at the sight, endeared at how quickly your fiancé had taken to them. but as cute as he is, you know neither of you can afford everything that comes with owning a pet, let alone two.

but it’s only for one night, right?

wrong.

you wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and you frown, going downstairs to find wonwoo holding one of the kittens wrapped in a towel, feeding it from a tiny bottle.

“wonu?” you call sleepily, and he looks up.

“good morning, honey,” he says with a smile. “they’re looking much healthier this morning.”

you squint at the unfamiliar bottle in his hand. “where did you even get that?”

he puts the bottle down and gently wipes at the kitten’s mouth with one of the corners of the towel. “i went to the pet store earlier to get some formula, before you woke up.” you raise your eyebrows, and he continues. “oh, hey, i also called the vet and their answering machine said they’re closed until the new year, so it looks like we’ll have to keep them until then.” but he doesn’t look too disappointed by this information.

you frown. “not even the emergency services are open? what if people’s pets get sick? it’s only december fourteenth, what are they gonna do for three weeks?”

his cheeks redden. “well– i mean, don’t blame the messenger! i can’t change their vacation hours. besides, wouldn’t it just be easier to keep them for a little while? it must be so hard for them, changing environments so often, y’know?”

you narrow your eyes at him. “and you’re sure you aren’t making all that up just so you can keep them a little longer?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips.

he flashes you a smile. “of course not! just taking care of them until we have a chance to take them to the vet.”

you sigh. “you’re going to get attached to them and beg me to keep them, aren’t you?”

he bats his eyelashes innocently behind his glasses. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

and two days later, when you catch him at his computer with the kittens sleeping on a towel in his lap while he plays his games, you know he already has.

it’s been almost a week, and wonwoo’s kept to his promise of taking care of the kittens, which he’s decided to name ‘jingle’ and ‘bell’, “because it’s the holidays!” according to him.

you know you’re really in too deep when he starts letting them join you when you watch movies together; one arm along the back of the couch behind you, his other arm curled around the purring kittens on his lap—which he’s put little santa hats on. because of course he has.

one of the kittens (jingle, you assume) stands up on wobbly legs and mews, and you look over to find him staring up at you, the fabric hat slipping down his little head. you tell yourself to resist the urge to reach over and fix his hat and snuggle with him, but you’re too late when he starts padding across the sea of blankets across yours and wonwoo’s legs. he plops down on your lap and tilts his head up to look at you, his tiny, high-pitched mewls almost drowning out the movie.

and of course, when you have a little friend sitting on you like that, how can you say no?

“oh, he likes you,” wonwoo says, smiling.

you sigh, giving in and gently petting the tiny kitten’s head with one finger. “i… guess… we can keep them,” you mumble.

he grins triumphantly. “the first two members of our new family.”

“wonu, we’re not getting any more!”

“we’ll discuss it after the wedding, honey. now shh, pay attention to the movie!”

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thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

[jnnul]

the right side of wrong. (part two)

TAGS ▸ uh like mentions of glass breaking, and food eating??, this chapter is pretty tame lol

PLAYLIST ▸ yosemite - travis scott, back - jey, stay - ari abdul, element - pop smoke, dirty laundry - blackbear

WORD COUNT ▸ 6.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ didn't want this part to be too long since i'm trying to stick to my end word count of 40k lol. next chapter is gonna move things along for sure though! this one is just plot + world building. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

TAGLIST ▸ @hybeboyenthusisast

[march 19, 20XX, 11:48 a.m.]

[mount justice, happy harbor, rhode island]

“you’ve never watched television before?” soojin asks incredulously, staring at y/n. she shrugs, looking at the remote in her hand with a curious look. 

“i mean, television is harder to warp since it could be live broadcasted. magic takes a lot of energy, and i don’t think anyone cared about me enough to warp television day in and day out. i mostly just read books. fiction.” jay lets out a low whistle as he puts the baking tray into the oven. 

soojin and jay had taken it upon themselves to be ‘den mothers’ for y/n since she didn’t really have anyone else to connect with, and since they were the only ones who lived at mount justice.

“really? well, at least now you’ll never be bored. when i was on mars, watching television from earth is practically the only thing i ever did,” soojin says and smiles when she sees jay make his way to the television set in the other room, picking out dvd’s of old movies to start y/n with.

“yeah. i mean, it was pretty boring since i could only do things that were already vetted by my dad. i could only read the books he wanted me to. i could only eat the foods that he brought me. i could only learn the things in textbooks that he conjured. it was a life that felt like prison,” she explained, her voice trailing off as she reminisced not-so-fondly about her life in the other dimension.

“you know, i hate to say it, but usually people come out of solitary confinement totally mistrustful and don’t reveal anything to the people around them because of their time. i know that your case was a little different but i just - ” soojin is cut off by y/n, who’s eyes have grown hard and full of fire.

“but i don’t seem depressed or psychotic. in fact, i look and speak like a pretty normal girl, don’t i?” y/n says, her voice cold and emotionless. a shiver runs down soojin’s spine. this is what she had expected from someone who had no one but the light to grow up with. someone who was ready to fight at any given moment; a cold and ruthless killer.

“i’m sorry,” soojin says and just as quickly as y/n had slipped into the persona, she slips out of it.

“no, don’t apologize. i understand the confusion. it’s a mix of two things: my father may have been controlling my environment but he never actually tried to control me. he said that my powers and my face was all his, but that my personality and my brain was all of my mother’s. my father loved me very much, and locking me up to ‘protect me’ was his insane way of showing it. so i know what it’s like to be warm, trusting, and affectionate. it’s not as though i never knew the emotion. and as easy as it would be to live my life without ever trusting you guys, i just don’t think i want to live like that again. that’s how i’ve been living ever since i found out the truth about this dimension.” y/n sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and hugging them close to her body, as if to trap the heat into the depths of her skin. “but also - even with all of that love - i’ve lived a better life in the past two days than i have in the past twenty years. people here tell me the difference between reality and fiction. everyone in that dimension just told me whatever i wanted to hear. or whatever i needed to hear to stay in their grasp. i wasn’t really a child to look after to anyone else in the light. i was more like a harmless puppy.”

“that’s why they didn’t train you in combat either?” soojin asks and y/n nods, shrugging.

“it’s hard to keep a puppy under control when she’s been taught to bite.”

jay, who’d come back to the kitchen with a myriad of genres to explore sighs. “you know, that kind of reminds me of my time at cadmus.”

“what’s a cadmus?” y/n asks, and jay is silent for a moment, picking and choosing his words wisely.

“it’s a prison of its own. i was made as superman’s clone and raised in a facility to have the powers of superman but no mind of my own. i was literally created to be a rabid dog just barely on a leash,” jay says, and when he looks up at y/n, he doesn’t see the pity that he usually gets (and hates). instead, he just sees solidarity and for some reason, it feels as though she truly understood what exactly he’d gone through.

“but enough of the sad past talk. we’ve got to get you caught up on cinema and there’s nothing but time, right now! so what do you say, y/n? are you feeling mystery? romance? comedy? romantic-comedy?” soojin says, clapping her hands. y/n peruses her options before picking a movie, unable to tear her eyes away from the cover.

“i don’t think i know what love is but whatever it is, it’s gotta be this right now. who is this fine man?” y/n asks, staring at the man on the cover of the dvd and soojin giggles. 

“that’s henry cavill, and trust me, we all think that way,” she says, winking at jay, who just rolls his eyes with a grin.

“well then, the immortals, it is,” jay says, leading them all to the living area, where the television was.

“oh, i hate to bring up cadmus again but you said something that i thought i should clarify,” y/n says suddenly, her face serious and contemplative. jay and soojin exchange a look.

“what is it, y/n? do you remember something else about the light?” soojin asks worriedly.

“no. no - i just wanted to ask…what the hell is a superman?”

“oh boy.”

[march 19, 20XX, 11:48 a.m.]

[palo alto, california]

yujin checks her phone for the third time in the span of thirty seconds, her knee bouncing as she waited in the courtyard of stanford university for her boyfriend. she stares down at her phone impatiently, waiting for jake when she’s offered a short reprieve from the california sun beating down on her as a shadow casts across her face.

“you know, you really need to start caring more about your boyfriend and less about this new girl you have a crush on,” says the person who deprives yujin of her vitamin d.

“i don’t have a crush on her. but i do really need to check something out in gotham,” yujin says, looking up at jake. “and i need you to come with me.”

jake frowns, checking his watch. “is it serious? we have the pottery painting double date with the colemans at five.”

“no, it’s not serious. it’s just strange. and i don’t know, i just don’t want to investigate alone. figured i would put your forensics degree to use,” yujin replies.

“forensics? are we talking about a dead body here?” jake asks and yujin shakes her head, looking back down at her phone. she turns the phone screen so that jake could see what had her so on edge and gasps, taking the phone from her and examining carefully.

the image on yujin’s phone wasn’t gory or grotesque like jake had expected. instead, the image was (relatively) straightforward: someone had broken into ace chemical factory - literally. everything made of glass in the image was shattered to pieces, and the old stone building was suffering some serious cracks.

“this looks like some sort of sonic weaponry type damage. i see why this is sad and disturbing for gotham city history enthusiasts but i’m still not seeing why a forensics analysis is necessary. does sunghoon know about this?,” jake says, frowning as he examines the picture.

yujin swipes to the next picture, and jake’s frown grows even deeper as he looks at the picture.

“it looks like the same person who broke into ace chemicals also did some serious property damage to the yacht bridge. this has got to be at least twenty to forty million dollars in damage,” jake says, his eyebrows furrowed. “i still don’t see how this is an issue for forensics though.”

“check the timestamps. sunghoon wants us to do a little analysis for the team while he carries out the investigation on the legal side. you know, since superpowers are probably involved,” yujin says and jake swipes back and forth, checking the timestamps of the pictures.

“these pictures indicate that the damage was done at the same exact time. how the hell is that possible? i didn’t know that sonic weaponry was that easy to find,” jake says cynically, swiping back and forth once more.

“yeah. but check this: the damage looks the exact same. as if it were done by the same weapon,” yujin says, pointing out the shape of the glass shards that were scattered across the floors of each of the buildings. jake looks closer until he notices something that rubs him the wrong way, zooming in to show yujin too.

“look at this, though. in the picture of the yacht bridge, there’s clear indications that the weaponry used was barely functional; i mean the glass shattered but the shatter isn’t nearly as finely ground as the glass here, in the ace chemical factory picture. it’s not as identical as we think it is,” jake explains. “and this is just a hunch, but it seems like the motives are different too - i mean, i can’t think of a single reason why anyone would voluntarily go to ace chemical factory at eight in the evening. that place has been shut down for years, and it was never producing anything too valuable in the first place.”

“but the yacht bridge would mean that some rich people are moving some big amounts of money in the next couple of days,” yujin says slowly. “especially with the weather growing warmer, more and more people are getting their boats ready to take out onto the waters.”

“and when did you say icicle sr. was at the bank?” jake asks, mentally committing the picture to memory. 

“not even fifteen minutes later. the bank is pretty close to ace chemicals but it’s on the other side of gotham. unless it was you or the flash, i’m not sure that anyone could make it from the yacht bridge to the bank in time. but from ace chemicals, there’s more than enough time to do so,” yujin says, swiping to the next picture, where she’d circled the three locations.

“well, i’m not sure how much help i’m gonna be but i’ll check out all three of the locations with you if that’s what you need me to do,” jake says, handing yujin back her phone and she pockets it quickly, checking her watch.

“well then, i’m gonna have to borrow the powers of kid flash to complete this recon mission,” she says, a teasing glint in her eyes and jake flashes her a megawatt smile.

“kid flash, at your service, ma’am. now, let’s not keep the colemans waiting for too long.” 

[march 19, 20XX, 11:48 a.m.]

[gotham city, southern tip of new jersey]

“detective park? we have some people inquiring about the simultaneous break-ins at ace chemicals and the yacht bridge from yesterday. is the field team ready to go to the site?” byun euijoo, the station’s pretty boy and correspondent/representative asks, looking haggard from having to respond to entitled rich people all day.

“yeah. we’re ready,” sunghoon says, nodding at the team that he’d assembled to investigate the break-ins. he had a sneaking suspicion that yujin and jake would have better luck in finding the source of the issues but he had a job and appearances to keep up anyway.

“right. i’ll tell them that our team’s on site working on the case and that we’ll find the perpetrators as soon as possible,” euijoo says, typing away on his little ipad, murmuring something under his breath. “even though it’s most likely that the justice league’s gonna handle this anyway. or whoever the hell they send to take care of things secretly.”

“what’d you say?” sunghoon says, unbuttoning the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves to roll them up, hanging the detective badge over his neck.

“nothing. it’s just - does our station ever really do anything? it feels like we just get anonymous intel that solves the entire case for us. not that you’re not a great detective and you’ve definitely been vital to solving cases and putting everything together. but, you know, it just feels pointless when the justice league or whatever team they’ve put together for undercover missions does everything for us anyway,” euijoo huffs, hugging his ipad to his chest.

sunghoon rests his hand on euijoo’s shoulder, slinging his jacket over his own shoulder. “this station is the face of every case that comes to this city. no matter what kind of anonymous tips we get - or however timely or true those tips might be - we deliberate the truth and we have to search and give the people an answer. our job is no less important because whoever is helping us has gotten involved.”

“but you don’t ever get curious about who exactly is helping us?” euijoo asks, somewhat shamefully.

“hm. maybe? but if they want to reveal themselves, they will. no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth, right?”

euijoo doesn’t have much to say to that and sunghoon just smiles, passing him to lead the team to first the yacht bridge, and then ace chemicals. yujin and jake would be checking ace chemicals first so it would be easier for them to examine things in peace if the detective team (and the horde of reporters that would be sure to follow) headed to the yacht bridge first.

plus, rich people were impatient. and pushy.

“alright,” sunghoon begins, clapping his hands. “let’s find these assholes.”

the motorcycle ride to the yacht bridge wasn’t that far. maybe twelve or thirteen minutes at maximum. but those thirteen minutes felt like absolute torture all the way through.

sunghoon preferred motorcycles because he liked feeling the wind whipping his jacket and at his hair when he wasn’t feeling like following rules. he loved the feeling of feeling superhuman in his speed and agility as he raced down the streets of gotham. it also could have been the time that sunghoon had spent with eunwoo rubbing off on him, now that he thought about it. 

but now, with all of these reporters hot on his heels, hounding him with questions that they were screaming over the howling winds, it was absolute torture. sunghoon could barely concentrate on the road in front of him from the sheer multitude of questions that he was being barraged with. 

sunghoon’s thoughts lead him to ardor, as a way to distract himself from the questions that he was pretending he couldn’t hear. 

she was probably spending time with jay and soojin around this time, wasn’t she? maybe catching up on the current events that she’d missed out on in all of her time trapped in that dimension? or possibly eating foods that she didn’t even know existed? knowing soojin, she was definitely showing ardor some sort of show or movie. jay was probably just happy to be around soojin and soojin was always happy to welcome new people into the den, since the only two permanent residents of the den were jay and soojin.

his mind goes back to something that eunwoo had said as sunghoon was on his way out.

eunwoo was a relatively stoic person and wasn’t shaken or moved by much. he didn’t really have intense highs but he also didn’t have intense lows, and while that had annoyed sunghoon when he was looking for affection that eunwoo simply couldn’t provide, it proved to be helpful and necessary every time sunghoon found himself shaking with the intensity of his emotions when he was going through his teenage years.

so for eunwoo to grab sunghoon’s elbow as he’s on his way out of the cha manor, his eyes downcast and contemplative… it was definitely a cause for concern for sunghoon.

“i don’t want to reveal too much because i’m not sure that it’s my place to share anything with the team when it’s a justice league issue but if what y/n is saying is true, the possibility that the justice league has a mole is quite frankly, worryingly high. i can’t tell you how to run the team and i’ll carry out my investigation as discreetly as possible but as someone in this field for longer than you have, i have some requests and some advice. first, i suggest that you keep y/n as close to you as possible. if word of the investigation leaks, the light will not hesitate to hurt her or maybe even kill her, depending on how desperate faust is. i trust the team but i trust you the most, sunghoon. second, this is my request, but you might consider adding her to the team. pyrokinetics are not a joke - and her flame doesn’t kill, which is even better. not to mention that if you take her on missions - ”

“we might discover something that she’s been keeping from us, intentionally or not,” sunghoon finished with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face.

“you know?” eunwoo asked incredulously.

“not really, to be honest. but miss martian mentioned something about how she’s keeping something important from us. i’m pretty sure that not even she knows though. according to miss martian, it’s something that she knows is important but it’s behind a mental block - can’t tell if it’s a block from a magician or an emotional block. combat is pretty primal though; it unlocks parts of us that we don’t even know exist. so maybe after some training and survival techniques, ardor could be a good addition to the team. or maybe it’ll be a good way to release the stress or whatever mental blocks she has in her mind.”

eunwoo was quiet, watching sunghoon before shaking his head. “you really grew up too fast.”

“you’re still only a couple years older than me,” sunghoon replied but when he looked at eunwoo, he doesn’t see a scolding or discomfort welling up in his eyes - just unadulterated pride and joy in sunghoon’s growth.

“yeah. i know.”

sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, parking the bike in front of the entrance into the yacht bridge, flashing his detective badge at the attendant in the front - although he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need to, since there’s only one detective that was always called upon in strange cases like this: him. 

“show me the way,” he says, trying his best to offer a charming smile. the attendant just sneers, pressing a button to open the gates into the yacht bridge with an unimpressed look, distrust swimming in his eyes and sunghoon does it best to keep it from affecting him.

today was going to be a long day.

[march 19, 20XX, 6:59 p.m.]

[mount justice, happy harbor, rhode island]

sunghoon collapses on the sofa in the living area of mount justice, a defeated look on his face, a wet cloth draped over his face to release the heat that he felt was practically coming off of him in waves after getting off of work just prior to using the zeta tubes to reach mount justice.

“gotham city giving you some trouble?” soojin asks, sliding a plate of cookies over to where the heaping lump of sunghoon was.

“not really,” sunghoon sighs before taking the wet cloth off of his face. “never mind. yeah, it seems like one of our cases is a little more complicated than i had anticipated. don’t mind me though. are yujin and jake here yet?”

“they said something about a double date earlier so i doubt that they’ll get back until at least eight.” soojin munches on the cookies, nose crinkling in satisfaction as she analyzes the taste. “wow, y/n’s a good baker. can’t believe she didn’t share how talented she was before.”

“y/n made these?” sunghoon asks, staring at the cookies apprehensively. they’re a perfect golden-brown, with chocolate chips added generously to each one. “they honestly look store bought.”

“nope. i made them from scratch,” says a new voice in the room. y/n looks somewhat shy as she enters the room, carrying two plates of dinner served in each of them. “i’m learning like pyrokinetics are useful for cooking - and easier to use than stoves. i don’t really understand them.”

“you made dinner? with fire power?” sunghoon gawks, his stomach growls betraying him as he takes in the smell of the dinner that y/n had made. his arms reach out instinctively, and y/n hands him the plate gingerly, handing the other plate to soojin.

“i had a lot of help,” she says, hiding her hands behind her back to keep sunghoon from seeing the number of bandages on her hands from her clumsy first trials with using knives. knives = weapons in the dimension she was from, so she didn’t exactly have too much practice with them until now.

“don’t be humble. i didn’t do anything,” jay says, entering with two more plates of food. “i just showed her how refrigerators and garbage disposals worked.”

“you didn’t have refrigerators?” sunghoon says, turning to y/n, mixing the curry into the rice.

“no. i ate on a day to day basis so i never really needed one,” y/n says with a shrug, but sunghoon can see the sadness in her eyes. he takes a bite of the curry, as if to divert her attention and immediately, his eyes grow wide as he stares down at the plate.

how could curry even taste this good? was it even possible for chickpeas to taste like this? were these even chickpeas?

his eyebrows furrow as he analyzes the curry, trying to figure out exactly what she’d had added to make it taste so heavenly.

y/n take his silence in the opposite way that he meant it, however, and her face falls as she watches his reaction. “you don’t like it? i’m so sorry, i’m sure that soojin has some leftovers from lunch!”

sunghoon shakes his vigorously as she starts to move out of the room to heat up leftovers. “no! i mean, i love it. i genuinely was just taken aback by how good it is. i had no clue that you could cook like this, y/n.”

she blushes, the prettiest color rising in her cheeks. “it’s just some stuff that i’d picked up whenever i got bored. cookbooks are surprisingly easy to memorize and fun to read.”

“well whatever you did, you have got to teach me,” soojin says, her face scrunched up in pleasure. “this is so good, i feel like i’m gonna cry.”

“no kidding,” jay agrees, eyebrows furrowed in what looks like anger at just how good the dinner was.

“you guys are too sweet,” y/n says with a shy laugh, falling back into her seat when she’s met vehement protests at her humility, comparing her to some guy (gordon ramsey?) she’s not quite sure of.

“this is incredible,” sunghoon says, and his eyes shine when they meet with hers, causing her to avert her own eyes, his gaze heavy on her face.

“oh, i really hope there’s enough for yujin and jake when they get here. although, i kinda wanna get seconds. or thirds,” soojin says with a sigh of satisfaction.

“yujin’s coming?” y/n asks, perking up at the mention of artemis. “i haven’t seen her all day today.”

“yeah, they’ve been busy for the past couple days but jake’s been complaining that he’s lost his girlfriend to the new girl at mount justice. apparently yujin’s been worried about how you’re holding up, all the way on the other side of the country.” jay’s words cause y/n to descend into another flurry of bashful denial, smiling when she hears that her new friend would be returning to mount justice.

“speaking of those two, has jake talked to you guys about the proposal plans yet?” sunghoon asks, chewing slowly, as if that would make the food’s flavor last longer in his mouth. jay’s eyes dart between him, soojin, and y/n as if to ask silently if it was okay to let y/n in on secrets such as these - even if they weren’t exactly damning evidence for crucial missions.

we can trust her. i’ll explain later but for now, just know that whatever you could say to the team, you can say to her, sunghoon explains through the mindlink.

“oh yeah,” soojin says excitedly, clapping her hands. she turns to y/n with an excited twinkle in her eyes. “jake, yujin’s boyfriend and our resident speedster, is planning on proposing to yujin soon! he recruited our help to help make sure the whole day goes perfectly.”

y/n leans forward, equally enthusiastic as soojin. “really? that’s going to be so wonderful; i can’t even imagine how that would look like! gosh, i’m so excited.”

“has he decided on a date yet?” jay asks, the tension from before having evaporated when sunghoon confirmed that y/n was allowed to be privy to such information.

“he said something about a june date? after they graduate in may, for sure, and on a day when it’s sunny and calm out. he wants that to be the one day that things go according to plan,” sunghoon says with a snort, shaking his head at the antics of his best friend.

“can you blame him? it seems as though having things go according to plan is a luxury we do not experience very often in our field,” says a new voice, and the four of them turn to see heeseung enter the room with a motorcycle helmet in hand. “your helmet was about to become a chew toy for wolf, so i figured that i’d bring it to safety.”

y/n checks the entryway, perhaps as if to see if wolf, jay’s wolf friend and resident snuggle buddy, would follow his recently confiscated chew toy but it seemed that wolf had found satisfaction in other toys.

she’d seen him bite straight through concrete with unbridled enthusiasm the other day, so all she could hope was that his toy for the day wasn’t going to be her door. which was bulletproof metal, but she wasn’t exactly sure what that wolf was capable of.

“thanks heeseung. wanna grab dinner? y/n made it and it’s absolute heaven,” sunghoon says, pointing at the plate that he’d practically licked clean. heeseung nods, and the two of them head out of the living area to the kitchen to serve themselves.

“here, let me come with you. i can get dessert started too,” y/n says, standing up. “i got excited after learning how an oven worked - though i kinda ended up, uh, getting creative with my fire because that was faster - so i ended up making brownies too. anyone up for brownie ice cream?”

soojin and jay’s hands shoot up almost unbelievably quickly.

“wow, those speeds would put kid flash to shame,” sunghoon quips and soojin and jay just ignore him, scrambling to their feet as all of them make their way into the kitchen.

“just wait. you think this dinner and these cookies were good? those brownies put them all to shame,” jay says, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, not looking too unlike his canine companion.

“it seems that you have won the hearts of many, y/n,” heeseung says, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

y/n just looks at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. heeseung was the person that she was the least close to - bar sunghoon, but she was warming up pretty quickly to the ‘pretty boy detective’ as jay called him. heeseung, however, wasn’t around mount justice over the past few days that she’d been there for too long and it seemed like he always knew something that no one else did.

he probably did know, though. there was just some aura around him that made him seem incredibly all-knowing and wise.

“uh, y/n? are the brownies in the oven or in the fridge?” sunghoon asks, and y/n is successfully distracted, rushing over to the fridge to pull out the brownies she’d made earlier, flitting from the counter and the fridge to assemble the brownie ice cream.

once everyone had been served their portion (jay was a special exception to the only one brownie rule; super strength required special food sizes was his explanation), the five of them headed back to the couch area, soojin excitedly recounting jake’s proposal plan as well as she could through a mouthful of brownie and ice cream.

“she’s charged up,” sunghoon comments, leaning over to whisper in y/n’s ear. “she’s been pretty excited about this whole proposal thing.”

“i’m not sure if i’m right but it seems to be a hint to jay; i think she’s waiting for him to propose too,” y/n whispers back and sunghoon looks at her with wide eyes.

“really? does jay know that?” he asks and y/n shrugs, spooning ice cream into her mouth.

“i doubt it. i doubt that even soojin knows that how she’s coming across to others. or just me, i guess. it must be a ‘woman’s intuition’ type thing,” she explains, nodding along to whatever soojin was saying so as to appease her excitement.

“speaking of intuition, i have to ask you something, but i’ll ask you later, when there’s no one else here. i don’t want you to feel obligated or pressured into giving an answer because of people being around you,” sunghoon says under his breath, just loud enough for y/n to hear. he looks out of the corner of his eye to see her reaction but she’s surprisingly stoic, nodding just the slightest before jumping back into the conversation.

the little exchange goes unnoticed by jay and soojin but heeseung makes eye contact with sunghoon and tilts his head, almost imperceptive to the untrained eye. sunghoon just blinks and heeseung is appeased. nothing serious. just want to ask her something.

sunghoon was pretty sure that as the most quiet members of the team, heeseung and sunghoon could conduct entire conversations without a single word.

sunghoon had picked that up from eunwoo and heeseung was just…heeseung.

the conversation is interrupted when the zeta tubes announce the presence of the missing team members, jake and yujin.

they hear jake and yujin conversing in low tones before joining the group, setting down their duffel bags (team gear) and backpacks (school gear) before taking a seat on the loveseat opposite sunghoon and y/n.

heeseung looks around the room, with all of the loveseats fully occupied before looking down at his armchair, a soft laugh escaping his lips. and so he was in the armchair. alone. while the loveseats were occupied with duos and couples. huh.

“how is everyone doing today?” yujin asks, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group.

“good! oh, you guys need to try y/n’s cooking - she made dinner and it’s absolutely heavenly,” soojin says, ushering jake and yujin into the kitchen. jake and jay follow her (the latter most definitely going for another helping) but yujin stops when she reaches where y/n is sitting, extending her hand to clasp y/n’s gently.

“hope you’re adjusting well?” she asks and y/n nods, honey practically dripping from her eyes.

“yeah. jay and soojin have been really welcoming. and sunghoon! and heeseung, of course,” y/n adds the last two names hurriedly, bowing her head at the two men. “everyone has been really kind.”

“that’s good to hear,” yujin says with a soft grin before her gaze shifts to sunghoon. “captain? i think that we’ve got a few things that we need to discuss.”

she looks down at where y/n is still holding her hand and reluctantly lets go. “and i think that y/n should be there too. classification omega.”

sunghoon is taken aback. the events of the yacht bridge and chemical factory were strange, most definitely, but he’d expected something along the lines of arkham asylum’s inmates staging some level of a robbery. something more novel. classification IV, at most.

classification omega? that really only meant sunghoon, yujin, and heeseung could be in attendance. not that they couldn’t trust the rest of the team but classification levels were more based on just how much members were willing to give for the team. classification levels were more for the safety of the members, rather than anything else.

so information at that classification level made sunghoon worry but yujin’s expression seems more puzzled than grim so sunghoon just nods, offering y/n an appeasing smile when she looks between the three of them, searching for answers.

“i’ll explain when we get a chance to talk,” yujin says, her gaze fixed on y/n and it’s obvious that the words are meant to put y/n at ease, rather than offer any hints to either of them about what she could’ve possibly discovered in gotham. it seems to work when y/n’s shoulder descend from their tensed state just the slightest.

the other three return, with jake holding an extra plate of dinner for yujin as well and the air in the room turns lighthearted once more. both yujin and y/n seem to turn off the serious mindset they were simmering in as if it were a light switch. but sunghoon is unable to take his mind off of yujin’s words.

his questions are answered even without an explanation when he hears y/n scream just twenty-six minutes later.

[march 19, 20XX, 8:26 p.m.]

[belle rêve prison]

“you heard what?” one of the inmates asks incredulously. icicle sr. shivers, almost as if a chill had run down his spine, and shakes his head, suppressing any sign of fear as he restates what he’d heard that night.

belle rêve prison wasn’t exactly known for its hospitality but there were very few conditions when it came to cold weather that startled icicle sr. - but the reason why it felt as though there was a cold air in the room had nothing to do with temperature.

“i heard the canary scream. cry. whatever those justice freaks call it. but when we got to ace chemical factory, there was nothing there. no canary, nothing. not a single feather on the ground,” icicle sr. grinds out, and to the other inmates, it seems as though he’s angry that he had to repeat himself. but to icicle jr., his son and the newest addition to belle rêve’s top gang, he can see that the grit in his teeth is from pure, unadulterated fear.

which made icicle jr. want to piss his fucking pants.

there was very little that scared his father. so if it scared his father, it sure as hell scared him.

“you heard the cry but you didn’t see the bird?” another inmates says with a cocky expression. his words don’t carry the pomp he tries to convey them with since his voice trembles a bit too much to take him seriously.

“she’s not usually in gotham unless there’s a fight to pick with someone,” another inmate points out. icicle sr. is silent as the prison cafeteria breaks out into a cacophony of different people trying to give their input on what exactly had happened for black canary to appear in gotham all of a sudden.

“dad? you’re kinda quiet,” icicle jr. says and his father side-eyes for a long moment before shaking his head.

“it’s not her. it can’t be her.”

“why?”

“because…it wasn’t her voice. not that voice means anything when that goddamn scream is so loud. but it’s just not her. i know that.”

which meant that there was someone else in gotham who could utilize the canary cry.

[march 19, 20XX, 8:26 p.m.]

[mount justice, happy harbor, rhode island]

sunghoon and yujin burst into a sprint the moment they can. that is, the moment that y/n stops screaming. sunghoon’s thoughts are all over the place as he tries to recon what had just happened.

the team had dispersed into different locations after dinner. jay and soojin had decided to leave mount justice to catch a late night movie while jake had with them when yujin broke the news that some of their findings were classification omega. he’d sulked at first (mostly about having to part from yujin again) but jay had enticed him into coming with them with promises of buying popcorn at the movie theater - as though they hadn’t just had three servings of dinner.

it was just yujin and sunghoon standing in the kitchen while heeseung went to make a call to a friend from atlantis (sunghoon had no clue that atlantis had cellphone reception). the two of them were silent, even though there were many words that had to be shared. it was as though neither of them knew how to share them and they were stuck in a standstill as they waited for y/n to return from the restroom for a quick shower and heeseung from his phone call.

sunghoon had just turned to yujin to ask her what she had found when an ear-piercing scream erupts from where the restroom across y/n’s room was. sunghoon and yujin both stumbled backwards, trying to regain their balance before setting off into a sprint, too many questions in their minds to think straight.

which brought sunghoon to the current moment, where y/n was standing next to her bed, clutching something shiny in her hands, wolf beside her, curled up into a ball of guilt and shame, his ears drooping as he looked up at the grief-stricken y/n.

her lips were still shaped as an ‘o’ as though she wanted to scream but she couldn’t find it within her to do so.

it takes less than three seconds for sunghoon to understand the situation: a) wolf had broken into her room while y/n was showering and had unknowingly destroyed something valuable to her. b) she possessed something valuable to her; something from the other dimension. c) she also had the canary cry - something that sunghoon had never heard of anyone else having besides black canary. d) the glass filled with water on her nightstand had shattered to pieces.

e) y/n faust was in gotham the night of the yacht bridge and ace chemical factory break ins. 

what the hell were they going to do now?

[little-svt]

Hi!! I’m so happy that I found this blog and so grateful that you two have started it :D I’d love to request a little!Dokyeom waddling around with diapies on cause he’s just too precious🤗 I definitely see him as a mama’s boy, babbling about nothing to impress his mama, while she just watches affectionately at her little boy sitting by her feet with a particularly puffy bottom from the diaper.

I hope you have a wonderful day! No stress about getting to this :))

☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊

☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊☀️🌊

FEMME-READER | FLUFF

Wc: 530

Taglist: @sweetiehyuka @pastel-princess-please @kiki-woo @fishsquishh

Hot Summer

Seokmin’s giggles sounded throughout your tiny apartment as you chased him around. You had just ran him a cold bath to try and cool your baby down in order to beat the heat, and managed to dry him and pull on a diaper at his request before he was running away from you.

“Imma get you!” You giggled as you chased him into the living room. “We need to put the rest of your clothes on.” You added, holding up a vest top and some shorts you had grabbed for him.

“Nuh uh… too hot!” Seokmin whined, a pout on his soft lips as he shook his head from left to right in a dramatic fashion. You let out a soft sigh, he had a very good point. It was far too hot and you knew that putting clothes on your baby would just result in him being uncomfortable.

“Alright honey, no clothes for you.” You said as you walked over to ruffle his wet hair before you leaned into place a soft kiss on both of his cheeks. Seokmin let out a soft giggle and smiled widely up at you, his eyes turning into the cutest crescent shapes. “Why don’t you go sit down in front of the fan whilst I go and grab you some juice?” You asked, walking over to turn on the fan that you had moved from your bedroom to the living room. Seokmin nodded his head and walked over to sit in front of the couch, plopping down onto the rug. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at how his diaper puffed up when he sat down and how he wiggled in his seat to get comfortable. Leaning down, you planted a soft kiss on top of his head before grabbing the remote to put on Zootopia for him. The smile on your face grew as Seokmin giggled in delight when he realised what film you had put on for him. Once you knew your baby was occupied, you headed to the kitchen to grab him some juice.

“Look Mama!” Seokmin said, excitedly pointing to the tv as you walked back into the living room. “A fox!” He grinned. You looked up at the screen and let out a soft chuckle before sitting down on the sofa.

“Yeah baby, do you remember his name?” You asked him, handing over his juice. Seokmin took the juice from your hands with a soft ‘tank you.’ He then looked up at you, his face twisted in thought as he tried to remember what the character was called.”

“Is it Nick?” He asked softly.

“That’s right! Good job honey.” You said with a smile before leaning down to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Seokmin let out a cheer before erupting into giggles, the sound being music to your ears. A soft content sigh left your lips as you relaxed back into the couch whilst you both happily watched the film. Seokmin leant his head on your legs and let out a soft giggle every time he felt the fan blow air on his body. Yup… this was the perfect way to spend a hot summer’s day.

🧸Endnote: A/N: Okay as much as I see Seokmin as a caregiver, I think we can all agree that as a little he is so adorable! I would love to just hear his giggles all day. I’m sorry for the wait on this request anonie but I really hope you liked it!

I just wanted to add that I am back at university for my final year and am already incredibly busy so my requests will not be opening up anytime soon. I will still try and get content out as much as I can but I do have to put my school work first so that I can graduate. For any other readers who have returned back to university (and even school) I wish you the best of luck and hope you are all coping well! (And that goes for everyone else as well))…~👑🐰💛

🧸Masterlist🧸

[garbagevanfleet]

ABADDON (series)

PART ELEVEN

Pairing: Josh x female!reader

Word Count: 15k words in this chapter

Summary: After a near-fatal accident that put one of your best friends into a seemingly endless coma, you’re feeling a little lost and hopeless. But are you desperate enough to do something reckless?

WARNINGS: (in this chapter) EXPLICT SEXUAL CONTENT!!!! 18+ ONLY.  Tons and tons of talk about Catholicism and Christianity, scary!Josh, talk of “virginity”

Editing and moodboard by the incredibly talented Erin ( @gardenvanfleet )

MASTERPOST

Playlist

“I absolutely love Halloween,” Josh says dreamily, and then flicks a vinyl werewolf mask with his fingers to hear the slapping sound. 

You’re a little distressed as you pick through a rack of packaged outfits and accessories because the only costume you’ve seen so far that you even remotely liked, you quickly realized was for children 10-14. “I can’t believe we forgot all about it.” 

“Speak for yourself,” he retorts in amusement. “Paimon’s been waiting patiently for its return - he loves when he’s tethered to a body for Samhain.”

Smiling, you turn to catch his eyes. “Yeah? Why’s that?” Then, after a quick pause, you add, “Other than the obvious reason of being a spooky guy that likes a spooky day.”

He crinkles his nose at you teasingly and then pecks a kiss to your cheek before you can resume your hunt. “That’s pretty much it, just with some extra nuances.” 

More than anything, you sound tired when you sigh and say, “That’s just cryptic enough to concern me, Joshua.” 

A laugh escapes him as he leans back against a flimsy display, but he doesn’t appear to be putting any actual weight on it - it seems to just be more for aesthetic's sake. “Aw, bunny. You’ve really come to know me so well.” Apparently deciding that’s all the information you get for the moment, he continues with, “Remind me again why we can’t just pick a costume for you from the ether?”

“Are you not having fun?” 

“I mean, it certainly isn’t too fun, right?” he half-teases, plucking a feather from a pair of fake angel wings and twirling it around between his pinched fingers. 

You peer over your shoulder at him and smirk, causing him to give you a questioning expression. “I guess that’s fair - we haven’t gotten to the really fun part yet.” 

He huffs through a sarcastic smile. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that exactly?”

Instead of answering, you just reach out and pull a random costume from one of the coat hangers and then saunter off to the back of the store, making sure you can hear his footfall behind you. There are just two people working the store, which is hard to believe because it’s two days before Halloween, but easy to believe because everything is so terribly picked over that there’s not much left to panic-buy before the holiday. Either way, the situation is pretty perfect for what you’re hoping to accomplish. 

The attendant that’s back by the fitting rooms is busy repackaging costumes after people try them on, so you’re able to slip past them without them being any the wiser. Josh files in behind you and checks over his shoulder before shutting the door and sliding the lock into its place. 

“You really don’t even need a costume,” he informs smugly, the expression worsening when you turn and give him an accusatory frown. “I can’t imagine you’ll be wearing it for long, so I was just going to pick you something.”

“We aren’t going to the club?” 

He hums at your question fondly, though you get the sense that there’s plenty he’s not telling you. “Halloween is the only day of the year that The Chapel is closed.”

“Why?” you ask, and then, when you can tell he’s going to try to dance around it, you grab him by the collar and press him back against the mirror with a thud. He’s trying to purse back an amused smirk as you repeat, “Josh, tell me why.”

“What would you do if I said, ‘make me’?” 

Your eyes pop open in dubious surprise. “You can’t possibly be horny after last night, right? There’s no way.”

He shrugs, wearing a cheeky look. “I always am. I mean, for one - I’m a demon now, so I’m just kind of inherently horny, but even as a human, I was always pretty sexually motivated.” 

After a quiet moment, you bite back a humored smile. “Really?” When he nods as you, you clarify, “I can’t picture sweet little Josh like that.” 

“He could certainly picture you like that,” he assures slyly, tucking a strip of your hair behind your ear, likely in hopes that he’ll see you blush. It works - you can feel your cheeks warming as his fingertips just barely brush your cheekbone.  

Once again, you ask, “Really?”  

Amused that you can’t seem to grasp onto the idea, he takes a step closer and asks in a whisper, “You wanna see?” 

“See what?” You’re wearing a confused frown as he slowly reaches for your forehead. As soon as he touches you, your vision whites out. It feels like you’re being sucked in by the undertow - dragged under the surface. 

On the other side of it, you’re Josh - or at least, you have his perspective. You recognize that you’re staring at white tiles - the shower tiles in their family's bathroom. It’s so real that you can feel the hot water running down your back and the thick steam against your face. Your left hand is braced against the shower wall, and your right is... You glance down and find it wrapped around your cock, and you suck in a gasp - except, it’s not one of shock like you want. You’re drawing in shaky panting breaths with each stroke through your fist. It feels strangely different than touching yourself - a little less intense and it doesn’t quite fill you with that heat you’re used to, but it’s still nice. You tip your head forward against the wall and let your eyes flutter closed as you roll your hips, slowly at first, and then quickening when it feels like that gets you closer to the edge. The tiniest little moan tumbles from your lips, completely swallowed up by the running water. 

There are a couple of sharp knocks on the door a second later that make your breathing hitch and all your movement stop. 

It’s Sam’s voice that whines from the other side of the wood. “Josh, c’mon, you’ve been in there forever.”

You grit your teeth in frustration. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

“There’s going to be no hot water left,” Sam complains, trying the handle to find that it’s locked. 

“And whose fucking fault is that for not getting out of bed until the very last minute? I said I’ll be out soon, now go away,” you snap and hear him stomp off. 

There’s a frantic feeling now, knowing you’ve got such limited time before someone comes to bother you again. You can feel Josh make a split decision, and behind his eyes, you can see him imagining you. He closes his eyes again, pictures you on his knees in front of him and you can feel the goosebumps rise on his arms as his skin prickles at the image. It’s so strange to see yourself like that - he’s picturing you opening your mouth so he can slip his cock past your lips and you can feel a tingling in his stomach as he imagines you looking up through your eyelashes. 

You’re able to surmise that the time period that this is taking place in is shortly out of high school - you’d grown your hair out really long for senior prom and decided to keep it that way until you realized you were going through shampoo too quickly and chopped it. Now, he’s picturing it hanging like wet silk over your shoulders and clinging to the shape of your breasts. 

It’s strange to ponder that this daydream actually ended up being a prophecy for him - he did eventually get you on your knees like this. You remember him telling you he’s pictured you like that before, you just never thought you’d get to see it through his eyes. In his mind, he pins you back against the shower wall and fucks your mouth, and the moment feels so familiar to you. 

He’s thinking about your tongue working at him as he slides the head of his cock against it, over and over until his eyes are rolling back. You can feel him about to come - it’s euphoric, like a warm, fuzzy rush washing over you. 

Right before you can experience his peak with him, you’re drawn back to the present. 

He’s got an arm around your waist, holding you tight against him because you find you’ve gone pretty much limp in his grasp. 

“Oh,” you breathe, slowly working your gaze up to meet his eyes to find that he appears amused - you imagine that he’s been watching you react. 

He tightens his arms around you, tugging you flush against him and pressing the tip of his warm nose into the hollow part of your cheek. Through a smirk that drips from his tone, he purrs against your skin, “Is it easier to picture now?” 

“You couldn’t have just let me stay in until after you came?” you grumble, but despite the complaint, you scratch your nails through his curls comfortingly, causing him to lean into it. 

“Probably not in this dressing room - not unless I could gag you.” 

You know he’s teasing, but you consider it, causing him to snicker at you. “Later,” he promises. He has his mouth open to say something else when you hear his phone buzz. It only takes him a second of glancing at the screen before he frowns in annoyance. “Sorry, bunny, I’ve got to take care of some business before we carry on with our day.”

In slight shock, you ask, “Me too? I’m coming with you?” 

He’s looking you up and down in appraisal before he nods in allowance. “Yes, I think that would be fine. You just have to behave yourself.” 

It’s such an absurd thought that you can’t help but scoff. “Me behave myself? Which one of us had a meltdown in a grocery store just a few short weeks ago?” 

“I, personally, think that was so childish of you. I mean, someone had to clean those pickles up, bunny,” he accuses in the most cheeky way you can imagine, sliding the lock open on the door and shoving it open, tossing you a look over his shoulder as he exits the room first. You grab the unopened costume package as you roll your eyes. 

You end up at The Chapel and find that, without all the excitement of the nightlife, it loses some of its magic. The rooms are vacant and you can hear the old wood creaking as the autumn wind tests its resolve.

“It’s creepy in here during the day,” you note, sticking close by Josh as he leads the way down the hall. 

“Nothing to be afraid of, bun,” he assures, reaching back and taking your hand. You catch his lips turn up into a pleased smile as your heart beats harder when he intertwines your fingers with his. “I promise I’m the scariest thing in here.”

You’re teasing when you reply, “Well, that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

When he opens the door to the inner sanctum, you catch Elise sitting on the bar, one of her pale legs crossed over the other one. She’s in a denim jumpsuit that’s unzipped to her sternum and there’s a pair of white, round sunglasses rested on the top of her head that match the white boots she’s got on. She stops inspecting her nails as the two of you walk in so she can offer Josh a flat look that you couldn’t possibly place the cause of. 

Josh lets out a sigh and then turns to you, giving you a smile that’s only slightly apologetic. “I’m going to be a few minutes, but Stolas will stay here with you, alright?” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Stolas materialize next to Elise - though he’s standing and she’s sitting on the bartop, they come out to roughly about the same height, a fact that amuses you deeply. He doesn’t seem to take offense to being left behind - his lips just turn up in greeting. Josh places a hand on your lower back and gently ushers you over to him as Elise hops down from her perch, the chunky heels of her boots making a pleasing sound as they land on the hard floor.  

She has to lengthen her stride to catch up with Josh and then they disappear through a door at the very back of the bar. 

“You want something to drink?”

You turn to meet Stolas’ eyes and nod - he’s already rounding the corner to get behind the bar. “That’d be great.” 

After he pours you a glass of straight orange juice and passes it over to you, you offer him a sweet smile. “Thanks, Stolas.” 

In amusement, he corrects, “You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want - my name is Harry.” 

You nod, slightly embarrassed for whatever reason. “Harry, then. You’ve got a lot of tattoos,” you note, letting your eyes rake over where they stain the skin on his arms. 

He unbuttons the left cuff of his shirt and then begins to roll it up to his forearm to give you a better view. “You like them?” 

“Especially this one,” you agree teasingly and point to a little black cross in the crook of his thumb. “Love the poetic irony.” He doesn’t reply further than to give you a cheeky smile, so you continue with, “How did you die? Am I allowed to ask that?”

“Sure, you can - it’s just not that interesting of a story.” 

“Drowning?” you guess, and when he shakes his head, you try again. “Overdose?”

“When you think about it, isn’t all death kind of an overdose of something?” he asks, causing you to quirk your eyebrow at him curiously. 

“How do you figure?” 

He shrugs. “I’unno - drowning is an overdose of water, burning alive is an overdose of fire,” he explains uselessly. 

It’s kinda endearing and as you’re listening to him now, you’re having a tough time imagining him topping anyone at all, even Josh-

“I, for one, overdosed on carbon monoxide,” he adds with a smile. 

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that,” is all you can think to say, but he declines by shaking his head. 

He waves off your concern and teases, “Don’t be - it was my own fault for being too lazy to change the batteries in the detector. I couldn’t stand the chirping anymore, so I just hit it with a broom handle until it stopped.”

The information is delivered to you so matter-of-factly that you can’t suppress the laugh you practically bark at him. You want to believe he’d be easier to dislike if his voice wasn’t so comforting - with his accent, you can almost visualize the words crawling slowly through your brain tissue.

“You’re very strange,” you note, pitchy from your shock. “Every other demon I’ve met has been so smooth and confident.”

A faux frown finds his features as he runs his fingers through his dark hair. “You don’t think I’m smooth or confident?”

“Not in the way I was expecting,” you admit and then tease, “Are you sure you’re even a demon?” 

He frowns in consideration and then shoves a hand in the pocket of his slacks - when he pulls it back out, there’s a little pile of colored stones in the dip of his palm. You cautiously offer him your hand when he reaches for it, and he happily transfers them to you for your inspection.

“What are these?”

“Uncut stones,” he replies. “Do you want them cut and polished?”

You give him a shocked look, but before you can respond, he places his open hand over yours and when he pulls it away, you can easily recognize them - a ruby or garnet, an emerald, a diamond, and a couple of yellow and orange ones, all in different cuts. You stare at them for a long second before glancing back up at him.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” 

He shrugs. “Whatever you want.” 

Unsure where to go from here, you tuck them into the breast pocket on your coat. Curiously, you ask, “What else can you do?” 

“Lots of things,” he assures. “You wanna see a trick?” 

“I don’t know, are you about to show me the future?” 

He smiles at your suspicious tone and shakes his head. “I can’t do that, but I’m the only one that can do this.” 

He holds both of his hands out, palms facing up, and something you could only describe as a hologram appears above them. In the dimness of the room, it’s like he’s showing you the night sky - there are little flecks of light glittering like stars. 

“Oh,” you breathe in wonder. 

Through a pleased smile, he replies, “Aren’t they lovely?” 

You nod, extending your forefinger to touch. As you tap one of the little dots, a line appears to connect it with a few others, creating a stick figure shape. 

“It’s Sagittarius,” he informs quietly. You glance up at him to comment, but you get lost in the state of his eyes. They’ve turned a greyish purple shade, but they look like they have such depth to them - you can see little stars littered throughout them. You’re so captivated as you stare into them that you barely notice it when he closes his hands and kills the scene he was displaying for you. 

You know you can’t touch his eyes, so you reach to brush over the height of his cheekbone instead. You’re just about to make contact with his skin when you hear Josh hum amusedly. It’s a little alarming that you hadn’t even noticed the door he’d disappeared into opening, but he’s already a good ten feet into the room with Elise just a step or two behind. 

You’re not really sure why, because he doesn’t look upset in the slightest, but you quickly retract your hand, forcing your posture straighter.

“Are you ready to continue with our day?” Josh asks you. He checks the time on his phone. “We should get you something to eat.”

With a nod of agreement, you join by his side, wearing a shade of pink across your cheeks. “It was nice to actually meet you, Harry,” you state, putting on a smile for him despite your embarrassment. 

He flashes one back at you to return the sentiment. 

You get out into the car, and as you’re putting your seatbelt on, you get a text message. Historically, the only person other than Josh that has ever texted you has been Jake, so when you pull your phone out and see that it says Elise with a yellow heart and crystal ball emoji, you just stare at the screen in confusion. 

wanna have a girl day? it says. 

You quickly type back, Sure but how did you get my number?

took it while we were dancing :) lunch next wednesday. we’ll pick you up

Since you know that she won’t become any more clear, you don’t bother asking for clarification, but you realize that “we” could mean anything, so you just tuck your phone back into your purse. 

“Are you going to tell me your secrets now?” you ask, half-turning in your seat so you can look inquisitively to Josh. 

An inquisitive smile spreads across his lips. Coyly, he replies, “Whatever do you mean?” 

Even though you know he’s aware of exactly what you’re referring to, you humor him by replying, “You have a lot of explaining to do about that ritual. About the death certificates. About that orgy.”

He’s smirking as he nods. “You’re right. We can talk over lunch.”

“We’re going to talk about this in a restaurant?” 

The concern in your voice amuses him. He hums in agreement, and in a move that melts you entirely, he pulls your hand from your knee and laces his fingers through yours. 

Once you get to the restaurant and get ordered, you give him an expectant smile. 

He lets out a short breath of preparation and asks, “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“That really should not be how this works,” you complain with a frown, rolling your eyes. “You should just start explaining.” 

“Well, that’s not how it works, unfortunately. So, ask me what you want to.” Apparently, he knows he’s charming enough to get away with it because when you give him an accusatory look, he just smiles wide enough to show you his teeth. 

“Fine. So, this is what you’ve been doing in Detroit this whole time? Resurrecting demons into dead bodies?” 

He hums. “Not always - sometimes they’re still alive.” 

Your frown deepens. “Like how you were?”

“Yes, precisely like that. It’s beneficial for the host’s body to still be alive - makes for a much more powerful vessel, however, it takes a very powerful demon to possess a live host,” he replies. Then, after a pause, his lips tug up at the corners into a wicked grin. “Like me.”

As much as you’d love to remain unaffected by his bragging, you’re in too deep - you find it charming. Deciding that you don’t want to dwell on the thought that he can absolutely hear your irregular heartbeat, so you press on. “So, the death certificates?” 

“Essentially, they’re applications.” He sees you staring at him curiously, waiting for more information, so he obliges you with, “Stolas finds candidates, and Elise works on suitability. The demon and host need to have compatible personalities, and most importantly, the host needs to be able to provide the energy the demon needs. She’s got an eye for those things.”

You stare at him quietly for a long moment. “Did you raise her? Gremory?” 

He nods. “I did. She was the first one I raised.” 

“How did you decide on Elise as the host? How did you find her?” 

“After her death, there was a dispute with her body.” He’s clearly about to continue until he hears the server come up behind him with your lunch. 

She sets your plate in front of you and, after asking if you need anything else and receiving an assurance that you don’t, she promptly retreats back towards the kitchen. As soon as she’s out of earshot, you ask, “A dispute?” 

You get a hum of confirmation from him as he flicks his eyes down at your food, silently telling you to eat. “Yes, something between her partner and her parents - either way, I know one party wanted her buried in Louisiana, and the other party wanted her cremated. I had been casing funeral homes and found her files. She seemed like she might make a good fit, so I found her partner, asked some questions, and struck a deal.” 

As you eat the salad you’d ordered, you try to just process all the information he’s given you so far. Finally, when you feel like you may have collected your thoughts, you take a deep breath and ask, “Okay, so what’s the purpose? What’s the endgame?” 

“There isn’t one really,” he states simply. “Just open-ended chaos.”

“I’m confused,” you admit, shaking your head. “Are you in charge of this whole operation?” 

“Well,” he starts, wearing an uncertain expression. “There’s no clear, finite answer to that question, I’m afraid. And I can’t really elaborate.” 

You nod in acceptance of his apologetic tone. “It’s alright,” you assure, forcing a smile for him. “Can you tell me - are you the most powerful demon?” 

“Paimon is not the most powerful demon in existence. But, he is the most powerful demon that’s tethered to this world currently - and he intends to keep it that way.” 

You’ve got a pleased little smirk playing across your mouth as you say, “That’s so fun - I get to be, like, the first lady.”

He raises his eyebrows playfully. “Is that so?” 

You know he’s just teasing you, but it still gives you a jittery, anxious feeling to think there’s even a possibility that he doesn’t like you tying yourself to him. You shove that sensation down and nod with the most confidence you can muster. “I’m with you.” 

When you’re finished eating, he stands with you and picks up your coat to help you slide it on, but he frowns as he does, shaking the material slightly. His fingers dip into the front pocket once you’ve got it buttoned, and when he pulls out a handful of gems, he breathes a laugh. 

“Wow, he really was showing off for you,” he notes, bouncing them in his palm to hear them clack together pleasantly. 

“Harry?” you clarify, even though you don’t have to. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he walks by your side to the front of the restaurant. Employing a jesting tone, he nudges your side. “Harry? Wow, he’s got you on a first-name basis, huh? Did you like him?” 

“He’s...” You’re quiet for a moment as you ponder the question. “A strange individual. I was expecting him to be kind of cocky and smooth like you, but I’m starting to think he’s just a handsome nerd.”

 The laugh he lets out in reaction is abrupt, but it’s such a nice sound that half the people that are dining around the front entrance turn to look at him. Obviously, he pays them no mind - they might as well not exist to him. 

“That’s exactly what he is,” Josh agrees, and then pauses to glance at you out of the corner of his eye, wearing a lovely smirk. “You think I’m cocky and smooth?”

☀  ☀  ☀  ☀

You’re right in the middle of brushing your teeth in front of the hotel’s bathroom mirror when you get a text. Your phone is sitting on the counter by the sink, and Bug is perched next to it - you’d expect him to jump as it vibrates rather loudly, but he just blinks down at it like it’s inconveniencing him. 

After you open the text and read it, you step out into the living area and shoot Josh an accusatory look. He’s spread out on the bed, reading. He rakes his eyes over you and then huffs a laugh. You imagine you probably do look a little comical - you’ve got your wet hair wrapped up in a towel, and one around your body from the shower, there’s a pore strip across your nose, and your toothbrush is hanging from your lips. 

After a second of waiting for you to say something to accompany your glare, he finally prompts smugly, “Yes?”

You retreat back into the bathroom to spit and then rinse out your mouth before returning to the spot you’d just been standing in. “I just got a text from Elise that asked if we were coming to celebrate Halloween at The Chapel tomorrow night.”

“You’re texting Elise?” he asks through a grin. 

“That’s not the point,” you snap. “The point is that you said it’s closed for Halloween.”

It’s clear that he knows he’s treading thin ice, but he's also visibly amused by your reaction. “I said it’s closed on Halloween. Which it is.” 

You shoot him a sharp glare and pull the towel from your head, letting it drop to the floor. “Don’t start that shit with me. Why wouldn’t you tell me? Do you not want to take me?” 

It’s not like you’re actually mad, and you certainly don’t think that’s the reason why he wouldn’t tell you, but for once, you’d love to see him feel a little remorse. But, he’s able to see through your tactic, no problem.

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Well, it’s not like I was going to take someone else.”

“You’re damn right, you weren’t.” You cross the rest of the space between the two of you, pluck his book from his hand, and let it drop to the floor. His eyes open wide like you’ve actually taken him off guard as you perch yourself on his hips. 

You bunch his collar up in your fists and push him back, eliciting a little moan from him as his eyes widen. 

Leaning in until you’re just an inch or two away from his face, you warn, “I’m getting awfully sick of your shit, Josh.” It’s a completely hollow threat, but you think he likes the game - if the way his hips subconsciously buck up against you is anything to base that judgment on.

“You’re going to take me out tomorrow night, right?” you prompt, pulling back when he tries to kiss you. When he realizes he’s not going to get what he wants until he agrees, he nods his head quickly. 

“I was always going to take you to the club tomorrow night - that was the plan,” he assures breathily, placing both of his hands on your hips. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but you can tell he’d kill to thrust against you right now, which is exactly what you’d wanted. 

“Oh.” You’re not sure what to say now, so you just press a kiss to his forehead and purr, “Okay, good boy.”  

He groans like he’s in pain, and you have to bite back a grin at the sound. You’re about to grind down against him when he rolls you off of him, pulling the towel from your body and tossing it into the corner. You think he’s about to crawl over you and take the situation a step further, but instead, he takes the blanket and wraps you up as tightly as he can manage. 

As he brushes his hair from his face, he’s smirking at you triumphantly. 

“It’s bedtime, bunny,” he states. You glare back, trying to wriggle free from the confines but there’s very little room to squirm. 

“What the hell?” you complain, but you don’t get the chance to say anything else before he leans down and presses a little kiss to the tip of your nose. 

You’re still annoyed, but it’s hard to be when he’s being so gentle with you. He employs the slightest jesting tone when he says, “Sleep tight.” 

He swipes a hand across your face and you’re out instantly. 

☀  ☀  ☀  ☀

“This isn’t even remotely funny,” you state flatly as he pulls the costume he’s picked out for you from the closet and then holds it up for you to see. 

He seems to be entirely prepared for that response, because he confidently replies, “It’s not supposed to be funny.”

You look the outfit up and down and huff in annoyance. “And yet, you seem so amused.”

To call it a Halloween costume would be awfully generous - it’s really just more like lingerie that’s been styled to vaguely resemble a nun’s uniform. He’s smirking as he thrusts it towards you. “You said you wanted to party tonight, right?” 

Rolling your eyes, you snatch the hanger from his hand and head for the bathroom - you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of watching you dress. Once it’s on, you just blink at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The bottom hem of the costume barely reaches the tops of your thighs, and there’s only a small sliver of skin between that and the top of the white stockings you’d found clipped to the hanger under the garment. You recognize that you can’t move too much without flashing anyone lucky enough to have their gaze fixed on you - which is likely to be most everyone with the outfit he’s chosen for you. 

He situates the habit on your head correctly when you get back out to the living room, leaving a couple of strips of hair untucked while looking pleased with himself. 

“Where’s your costume?” you inquire pointedly, but almost as if to answer you, he’s already working on tugging off his shirt. He gets completely naked before pulling what looks to just be a thin, cream-colored sheet from the closet. 

As he starts wrapping it around his body, it’s pretty clear that it’s supposed to be a toga, but much like your costume, he leaves plenty of skin exposed - there’s a slit in the side up his leg that stops at his hipbone, and since he seems to pretty much have given up on underwear at this point, if he moves incorrectly, he won’t have an ounce of modesty left to his name. 

He fluffs his curls in the mirror and swipes some gold eyeshadow across his eyelids and dusts gold flecks over his cheekbones. The earrings he chooses look like Roman denarius, and they suit him perfectly - you can just barely see them glistening through his hair. 

“Huh. Well, I’m not going to lie - I half expected you to whip out a priest costume,” you admit, admiring him the way he had with you on the elevator ride down to the ground floor. 

He’s wearing a look of faux offense as he replies. “And commit such sacrilege?”

You let your response be an amused hum as you quickly press him back against the wall and kiss him, letting him laugh into your mouth. 

Even after the elevator chimes and the doors to the lobby have slid open, neither of you make any moves to exit the space. You’re holding his eyes as you slide your hand down his arm, squeezing your fingers around his bicep and then his forearm to feel the muscles shift under the pressure. He watches your touch slip to his hand where you stroke over each of his rings, his smile growing more and more fond as the seconds tick by. 

He nudges your cheek with his nose, turning your face to the side so he can press a kiss to your temple - it’s such a soft moment in contrast to the atmosphere you find yourself in twenty minutes later. 

The club is packed - busier than you’ve ever seen it - with people all in costumes. Some are barely dressed in anything, and some donning full suits that cover every piece of skin they have. It’s almost a little off-putting - it’s hard enough to guess who is and is not a demon on a regular night, but tonight, anyone could be anything and you’d never know the difference. 

Elise and her girlfriend are standing by the bar, surrounded by a whole group of other people. Louise appears to be leading the conversation, maybe even telling a story, which is shocking to you because you’ve heard her talk so little that you can’t really remember what her voice sounds like. Elise seems to be dressed as a bumblebee - you think it’s supposed to be sexy, but it’s actually just really cute. She’s wearing a black and yellow corset that’s tight enough to cause her chest to bulge out the top, a skin-tight black vinyl mini skirt, and a pair of bouncy antennae poking out through her blonde hair.

Louise is in a black gown, and the lace material is ripped here and there to show portions of her porcelain skin. Her long hair is teased up, giving it impressive body, and a little string of red jewels lays across her forehead on a silver chain. You can surmise that she’s meant to be a vampire by the little oozing dots in her neck that match her chocolate-cherry lipstick. 

As soon as Elise meets your eyes, a grin grows across her mouth. She waves her hand and everyone but her lover parts from her, dissolving into the thick crowd of people. Elise turns to the bartender and then is immediately handed a green-colored drink that he holds out to you when you get close enough. 

“Where the hell is mine?” Josh asks in annoyance that you can tell is mostly fabricated, to which he’s met with a roll of her mossy eyes. 

“Get your own,” she replies, only half teasing. You giggle and go to ask Louise what she’s drinking, only to find that she seems to be pointedly looking anywhere but at you or Josh. You let the small talk die on your tongue.

He huffs at Elise and then, as he turns towards the bar, mutters, “Unbelievable - I’ve been fucking you for centuries.”

She snickers at him, unbothered by his complaints. Instead, she says to you, “I’m glad you made it. Are you excited for later?” 

You give her a questioning smile. “What’s happening later?” 

Suddenly she seems to realize she’s said too much, because she just shrugs and says, “I dunno, like, Halloween stuff?”

You’re about to ask her to elaborate when Josh wraps an arm around your waist and starts to lead you back out onto the floor. 

“Wanna dance?” 

 “Sure,” you reply, nodding. You glance back over your shoulder at Elise so you can shoot her a suspicious frown, but she’s already deep into the throws of a conversation with the bartender. You try to make a mental note to grill her about it later, but it becomes increasingly hard as Josh tugs you into his chest and starts to sway your bodies to the music. 

“What did she mean?” you ask him, lips pressed right to his ear. You know he must be privy to what you’re asking him, so you don’t bother wasting time to elaborate, even when he says, “What does she ever mean about anything?”

You pull back just enough that you can glare at him - it’s supposed to be a warning, but he just laughs.

“Bunny, don’t spoil all the fun I have planned,” he instructs with a wicked-looking smile. 

“Planned? Are you going to get me into trouble?” Your tone is accusing, and it’s not meant to be light or teasing, but he seems to choose to take it that way. 

He presses his thumbs into your sides, smirking as he nods. He grabs your wrists and loops your arms around his neck before resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll be getting you into trouble for the rest of your life - and that’s a promise.”

As much as you want to roll your eyes, hearing him talk about any kind of future with you turns you to a puddle, so you press your chest flush to his and try to contain the butterflies you’re feeling. 

You dance, uninterrupted, for at least an hour before you catch sight of Stolas over Josh’s shoulder. He’s slipping through the door behind the bar, running a hand through his hair. His whole face is painted to look like a skeleton, but noticeably, the makeup around his mouth is smudged into unrecognition, hinting at the activities he’s been getting up to thus far. 

“Should we invite Harry to dance with us?” you ask Josh, flicking your eyes over in that direction, but Josh declines by shaking his head. 

“Just us tonight.” He drags the knuckle of his forefinger over your cheek. “Plus, it’s almost midnight.” 

You quirk an eyebrow at him but lean into his touch. “So?” 

“So, I told you that The Chapel closes for Halloween,” he replies. “Halloween starts at midnight.” 

A frown tugs your lips down at the corners. “Oh. That kinda sucks - feels like we just got here.” 

He hums, tipping your chin up so you have to look directly at him. “It’s not going anywhere, bunny. It’ll be here whenever you want to come back.” After you nod in understanding, he asks, “Should we get out of here?” 

“Yeah, if you think it’s time,” you agree. “Should we say goodbye to Elise and Louise?”

He spins you around by the waist, pointing you towards the door. “They’ve already left.” 

“Without saying anything?” you complain, walking forwards when he directs you to. 

“Mhm. But, it’s not their fault - I told everyone to leave us alone tonight.” 

With a breathless laugh, you peek over your shoulder at him in suspicion. “What- why?” 

His hands slide down to your thighs, making you stall your movements for a second as he grips the meat of the muscle. “I told you - I want you to myself tonight. I’m happy to share you any other time, but tonight, you belong to me.”

That statement makes your breath catch in your lungs. You’ve completely stopped walking forward, but he obviously wants to make progress towards the door - as he laughs, low in his chest, he dips down and lifts you into his arms, bridal style. You squeak in shock, cheeks warm from all the attention you’re garnering. People part for him without question, and even though you’ve seen him command a room plenty of times now, it never fails to send you into a state of awe. 

Catching people’s jealous eyes as they rake you up and down is making you squirm - you’re not sure whether your chest is swelling with pride or shame. A person darts ahead of you to dutifully hold the door open for him, but Josh doesn’t even bother to give a passing glance as a show of thanks. 

“Are you going to set me down?” you prompt through a nervous laugh as soon as you’re outside, though you’re not entirely sure you want to, because he’s so warm in comparison to the air that’s biting through your skimpy costume. You look up to the sky and find it cloudy - the atmosphere is damp with what you could only guess is impending rain.   

He hums and then slowly lowers you until your feet are touching the ground. He slots his fingers through yours and leads you down the street - away from the car. 

“Are we not going back to the hotel?” you ask, glancing around. It’s eerily quiet outside, save for the wind. Usually, no matter what night of the week it is, you can hear the sounds of city nightlife - the distant thump of bass, drunken conversation, but tonight, you hear none of that. You strain to listen as you follow him, and realize you can barely hear car engines or honking. 

“No, baby,” he replies, glancing back at you over his shoulders. “No, we’re not.” 

You’re frowning as you joke, “Josh, the last time you were this cryptic, we ended up in an orgy.”

He hums through a smile you can hear. “And did you not have a lovely time?”

“Of course, I did. I’m just-”

“No need to be scared, bunny,” he cuts you off to assure you. “Trust me.” 

Even though he can’t see you, you still nod at him. The two of you walk for a few good blocks before you gather up the courage to ask, “Can you tell me where we’re going? Or, at least how much further away it is?” 

He pauses and smirks back at you. “Did you want me to carry you? Because it was my understanding that you did not.”

“I didn’t know we’d be walking for miles,” you protest with a roll of your eyes. 

He ducks down to one knee so you can climb onto his back, hoisting you up a little further until you can hook your legs securely around his waist. You can feel your whole ass hanging out, but it doesn’t really matter, because, unsettlingly, you’ve yet to see another person since the club was out of sight. 

It’s not much further before you can make an educated guess as to where you’re going - there’s a lone church in the middle of the block up ahead. The building takes up nearly the whole lot, and what’s left is occupied by a little parking lot. 

“Oh god,” you breathe, making him laugh under his breath. 

“Mhm.” 

“Josh?” you whisper, your jaw hooked over his shoulder. 

“Yes, bunny?” 

You swallow back the nervous spit building in your throat. “Why are we going to church?” 

“Well,” he starts, and then finishes with a sarcastic humor. “To worship, of course.” 

That strikes you silent for a few more feet. “Worship who?” you ask, wide-eyed.

He sounds positively proud as he replies, “Now you’re finally asking the right questions, babe.”

As he climbs the steps, you wait in suspense to see what’s about to happen, but all he does is slide you off his back and helps to straighten out your costume. 

“Alright, bunny.” He extends his arm and opens his hand to reveal a silver skeleton key. “I need you to do something for me.” 

You peer at him with wide eyes and nod for him to continue. 

“Remember how your grandma forced your parents to send you to christian camp that one year? And you were so mad because we had made a bunch of plans together through the whole summer that you couldn’t make it to?” 

You nod again, though now you’re squinting at him suspiciously.

 “Remember how they made you get baptized because you weren’t as a baby?”

 “Yeah,” you reply cautiously, dragging the word out. 

“Well, let’s make all of that pay off, yeah? I want you to take this key and open that.” He flicks his eyes behind you and then cups your jaw in his hand. “Can you do that for me?” 

You lick your lips anxiously and then nod one more time. He strokes his thumb over your chin in reward, so you turn to face the heavy wooden doors with a slight frown. 

The lock’s mechanics are audible as you slip the key into the slot and turn it. The old wood - warped over the years - pops open ever-so-slightly once the bolt is no longer there to hold it completely shut. You place your hand on the knob and then turn your head to meet his eyes in question. 

“Yes, go ahead and open it.”

It’s heavier than you’re expecting, so you have to give it a little extra muscle to pull the door wide enough. “Do I...go in?” 

“Mhm. I want you to step inside and invite me in,” he instructs, just as the first little droplets of rain start splatting to the pavement around you. 

You don’t try to bite back the smirk that spreads across your lips as you complete the first part of his directions, and then turn around to look at him. “If I don’t invite you in, you can’t enter a church?” 

“I’m not supposed to be able to walk on hallowed ground at all, but we’re taking advantage of some loopholes tonight.”

Your smirk grows into a smug grin, knowing you can essentially hold him hostage here until you decide you want to proceed. “What kind of loopholes?” 

Amusedly, he replies, “The kind that have taken me a long time and caused me plenty of physical pain to figure out.” 

Giving a hum of consideration, you ask, “And what are you going to offer me in return for this favor?”

“You’re very fortunate I foresaw you wasting a bunch of time to ask me a million questions,” he replies with a dark smirk as the raindrops start to become more frequent. “But I wouldn’t press my patience for too long.

You huff a laugh. “Or what? You’ll come in here?” you tease, rather enjoying the game you’ve started. 

“I absolutely love your arrogance - easily one of my favorite of your traits - but, I want you to remember that eventually, you’re going to have to come out of that church. And, do you remember what happened the last time you thought you’d outsmarted me?” 

 “Hmm, if I’m recalling correctly, you pinned me down to my bed and then answered questions and gave me an origami rabbit. Like a reward.” You flash him a smile and then say, “Just tell me what you’re going to reward me with this time and I’ll give you what you want. This kind of feels like one of those ‘anything within my power for the right offering’ instances.” 

He lets out a long, relenting breath and asks, “What would you like?” 

“I want to bank it.” 

“No,” he immediately declines. “Try again.”

You shake your head at him and say, “You’re going to let me bank it, under the terms that I won’t use it to gather information you’re forbidden to give me.”

After a long moment of him staring at you, his face screws up in a sneer. He lets out a groan that’s akin to a growl and then starts to pace back and forth in front of the door like he’s troubled by the decision. Finally, he spins around, rolling his eyes dramatically as he mutters. “Deal.” 

“In that case,” you state with a sweet smile, and then step out of his way. “Come in.” 

AUTHOR’S NOTE - please listen to this for ambience (just do it trust me)

Before he crosses the doorway completely, he first tests it by passing just the tips of his fingers through - when nothing happens, he snaps forward to grab you by both biceps.

You yelp in surprise as he shoves you back against the other door - it doesn’t hurt, but it does knock the air from your lungs as he presses his body flush to yours.

 He lets his lips brush your cheek as he speaks through a little smirk. “You think you’re so clever, hm?” 

The response you offer is breathy. “I’ve learned from the very best, Joshie.” 

Completely privy to your tactics, a dark grin spreads across his mouth. He releases you and then turns to saunter off further into the building. “C’mon, bunny.” 

After a second of adjusting your costume back to its intended state, you follow him through the next set of doors. Outside, the rain is falling in earnest - you can hear it pattering across the vaulted roof. 

There’s next to no light coming in through the stained glass windows, so you’re left mapping everything out by just shapes - you can just barely make out the outline of his silhouette moving down one of the aisles. 

“Josh, I can’t see anything,” you tell him.

“Ah, right,” he replies from across the room. You can hear him shuffling around for a second before it’s suddenly illuminated with a soft glow. There are candles everywhere - nestled in sconces along each wall, one at each end of every pew, all along the sanctuary, but particularly centered around the altar itself - and he lights them all at once, startling you. 

You observe the newly lit space in slight awe. You’ve never had such conflicting emotions before in your life. 

On one hand, the church is gorgeous - you’ve always admired Catholic architecture. It feels like a true novelty to see it empty and have free reign of its expanse. The rhythmic sound of the rain is calming, and that paired with the flickering candlelight feels almost primal in nature.

On the other hand, the building is so empty and sterile. You let your eyes rake across the rafters above and find nothing but thick darkness between them. The sanctuary is set up for ritual and ritual alone - the very meaning of which is to declare that you’re unworthy of god’s love, and there’s something about that thought that makes you feel even smaller than you are in this seemingly unending room. You figure maybe that’s the point. 

“Why are we here?” you ask, keeping your volume just above a whisper and allowing the acoustics to carry it for you. He had been slowly pacing the front of the room, but now he appears beside you, placing a hand on your waist to manually turn you towards him.

“Look at me,” he requests, so you meet his eyes with a questioning expression, only to find that they’re whited out. He pulls your face closer to his with a grasp on your chin and says, “Tell me a secret, bunny.”

After a long couple of seconds, you ask, “What kind of secret?” 

“Any kind.”

You have to think about it for a few moments, but he waits like he’s got all the time in the world. Finally, you admit, “I quit my job.” When he tilts his head in question, you clarify for him. “I quit my job because I wanted to spend more time with you. I’d spend every moment with you if I could.” 

A slow, thick smile spreads across his lips. “Go on.” 

Unsure what else to say, you try, “I never expected to enjoy your company as much as I do. When you first started living with me, I was sure there was no way I could ever truly like you - you were just so different from the Josh we took to Pewit’s Nest that day. And, I guess part of my secret is that I still miss that Josh sometimes. But that first day after I woke up - that first interaction I had with you as a demon - I thought I was afraid of you, but I think I was just kind of-” You pause because you’re not sure if you want to proceed until he cups your jaw in his hand. 

You clear your throat and start again. “I was resistant to liking you in any way because it felt like a betrayal to Jake. And I think, somewhere deep down, I knew there was something between us from that first interaction - maybe even longer.” 

He contemplates these admissions for a quiet moment and then simply says, “Delicious.” 

“Your turn,” you state, hastily because you’re embarrassed now.

“My turn for what?” he asks, entertained as he swipes his thumb over your pinkening cheek. His eyes flick back to their regular state. 

“To tell me a secret. Perhaps you can start with why you brought me here tonight.” 

“I already told you - we’re here to worship.” 

You adopt a curious expression, though he’s too close to really see it. “Worship what? How do we start?” 

He turns your face parallel to his so that, when he speaks, his mouth brushes yours. It’s slow and quiet when he says, “Just like this.”

Because you’re starting to catch on to what the purpose of all of this is, the hum you respond with is one of anticipation. He pulls the habit from your head first and tosses it onto one of the pews, and then grabs the hem of your costume. You hesitantly lift your arms for him so he can slip it off, leaving you in just your bra, underwear, and hosiery. He takes each of your hands and helps you step out of your heels, nudging them aside with his foot. 

“Tonight, we’re going to be Adam and Eve,” he informs you with a sly smile as he unhooks your bra with just one hand. 

You breathe a laugh and then pull the pin that’s holding the sheet over his shoulder. Though the material had looked rather thin while stretched out over the plains of his body, as it falls to a pile on the floor, it flutters loudly. The flickering candlelight creates shadows that flatter the shapes of him - you think he must be able to see your thought process as you glance around and then back at him because he cradles your jaw with the heels of his palms and lets his fingers rake through the hair at the base of your skull as he whispers, “No one is coming - it’s just us, and we’ve got all the time in the world.” 

As you stroke your touch down his chest, you let the skeleton of a smile find your lips. Now that you’ve gotten the reassurance, you take a deep breath - inhaling for three seconds, holding it for three, and then exhaling it slowly. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but the room smells like incense, and you’re able to figure out why when you catch a thick smoke trailing from a hanging censer like a waterfall by the entrance - you’re not sure when he lit it, but the grey is pooling on the floor underneath like the substance is too heavy to waft around the room. 

“The ambiance in here is immaculate,” you compliment, and then put on a jesting tone to continue. “Kinda makes me wish I were still a virgin.”

He hums in amusement, though you can tell he’s not being insincere when he replies, “You might as well be.” 

You snicker at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck so you can press his nose to yours. The heat coming off of him is pleasant beyond words in the chilled, open space, so you make a point of getting as much skin-to-skin contact as you can. “How do you figure?” 

His voice is rich with pride in himself as he states, “You’ve never done anything like this before, bunny. I promise.”

Biting into your bottom lip, you let your eyes map his expression. Then, as a gesture for him to do to you what he will, you nod. “I believe you.” 

He slips his fingers under the hem of your panties and inches the fabric down your hips until they fall to the floor. You step out of them and then glance down, running just the ghost of a touch over the head of his cock, smirking as you watch it twitch in response. 

When you look up at him, you find his dark lashes fluttering. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you breathe, making his eyes pop open again. In response to the sudden accusatory quality of his expression, you giggle and clarify, “That’s not meant to be praise, I’m just making an observation.” 

His hair has grown out a lot since the accident - it hasn’t been short for years, but now it feathers out around his face, framing it like a piece of art in a museum. You rake your fingers through his curls, being careful not to damage them in the process. 

“I think I know what I want my reward to be,” you breathe. 

He raises an eyebrow at you in appraisal. “You want to use it so soon?” 

You nod at him.

Cupping your face again, he forces your eyes to his, and says in an informatory fashion, “Bunny, I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t ensure that you understand what kind of an opportunity this is. For thousands of years, people have summoned Paimon in hopes that he’d given them an open-ended favor. The number of times he has obliged is in the single digits.” He pauses to take a breath and then says, “In your hand, you hold the potential to have nearly anything you could ever want. This is the type of decision that should be made only once you know you can do so without regrets. Do you understand?” 

“I understand.” 

“Then proceed,” he allows, looking like he’s waiting with bated breath to see what you’ll select. 

Even though you are certain it’s what you want, it feels embarrassing to ask for it, so you have to work up the courage over the course of a number of minutes. You buy yourself some time by toeing off your stockings, using him as a support to maintain your balance, and by the time you’re done with that, you think you’re ready. You draw in a deep breath, hoping to sound confident, but in the end, you sound about as small as you are next to him as an entity when you say, “Until the end of the romantic part of this encounter, I want to interact with just Josh and Josh alone. No further demon influence.” 

He stares at you for so long that you start to become almost unbearably self-conscious but you try to stand your ground. 

Finally, he sighs and says, “It’s a little more complicated than that. Josh and Paimon aren’t exactly separate entities now - we exist as one.” 

Your stomach sinks as you count this information as him declining, but he helps to put that feeling to rest when he places a hand under your chin and tilts your chin to pull your eyes to his. 

“I can do it, of course, but the nature of my dealings requires we talk clearer terms. For starters, explain ‘no further demon influence’.”

Nodding in understanding, you reply, “I want Josh’s personality only. I want there to be no demonic influence on how he thinks and responds. Anything else, I don’t care about.” 

“Alright. Now, define ‘the romantic part of this encounter’.” 

“Until we are finished with the sexual interaction I’m gathering is about to happen between us.” 

He’s wearing the slightest frown as he inquires, “And how will I know when that has ended?” 

“I will let you know,” you state, making him scoff, though it doesn’t sound bitter or angry - just amused.

“And how am I to know that you just simply won’t ever invite Paimon back?” 

All you can really give him is a shrug. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.” After a silent moment of him staring at you while he weighs the terms, you prompt, “I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me.”

 He’s still wearing an uncertain expression as he lets out a relenting breath and says, “Alright.” When he holds his hand out, you shake it - you can practically feel the finality of the situation in the atmosphere.

Just a second later, he whimpers and clutches his head with both hands, shutting his eyes tight like he’s experiencing pain. His muscles go rigid, but you’re not sure that it’s safe to touch him, so you just wait for the moment to pass until he stumbles, ever so slightly.

“Josh, are you alright?” You try not to sound too concerned, but you can guess just how guilty you’ll feel if this request bears ill side effects. 

After he seems to gain his composure, he corrects his crumpled posture and looks directly at you, wearing a shocked expression. His eyes are flicking all around your face rapidly like he’s trying to take it all in at once.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, exasperated. “This is-” He lets his glance trail down your form, wearing an expression that gives you goosebumps. “Different without him.” 

There’s a lot you want to say, so you try to figure out the order of priority - as much as you want him right now, you know that once it’s over, you won’t have a lot of time for talking. This is one of those golden opportunities he’s always trying to lecture you about.

“Josh, are you okay?” you repeat, voice cracking despite your best efforts. Like it physically makes him ache to see you upset, he reaches out and tugs you into him, but it feels so honest like this - almost raw compared to every other time since the accident.

“I’m fine, babe,” he assures, wrapping his fingers through your hair and pressing your face into his neck where you find that Paimon’s body heat is still alive and well. 

“Fuck, I just-” You worry your teeth over your bottom lip. Usually this is the kind of thing you’d build up to saying, but time isn’t a luxury you have right now, so you just utter, “You must resent me, right?”

“What?” he asks through a disbelieving laugh. You feel his chin rest on the crown of your head as he strokes over your hair. “For what?” 

“Doing this to you.”

“That’s- No, I don’t resent you. I love this life,” he states. “I know it must be hard to understand, but I’m not,” He pauses to conjure up the right words. “I’m not trapped in here with him - I am him, for all intents and purposes. Think of all the things I’ve gotten to have. All the shit we’ve gotten to experience.” 

He pulls away just enough that he can see your face.

“And I really think we’re just getting started,” he adds, flashing you a charming smile as he slides his fingers down your spine until his hand rests on your lower back. 

Your next exhale is shaky and hot against his face as you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him in so that it’s delivered directly into his parted mouth when you say, “Josh, fuck me.” 

He lets out a little moan and then cups your ass with both of his hands, digging the tips of his fingers into the muscle until it aches. It’s mostly subconscious when you roll your hips forward into his - you whimper because the friction causes little sparks to flicker through your nervous system, making your muscles twitch. Your toes curl into the floor as he returns the favor, grinding back, only with more force - he’s able to make the head of his cock catch on your clit. 

When you squeal, he weasels his hand down in between the two of you, wrapping a fist around himself so he can pointedly rub the spot over and over. You can still feel the placement of his fingers on your ass cheek, even after he lets go - you know it’ll leave you with bruises, and if you had even a shred of dignity left in you, you’d be embarrassed about how that thought sends a rush of heat through you. 

He kisses you with an open mouth, licking against the flat of your tongue first before catching your lips with his. You’re not really thinking about it when your grip in his hair tightens - it’s born of a desperation to have him as close to you as he physically can be. Still, the fact that it was unintentional doesn’t prevent the whine that sounds from the very back of his throat. 

“Oh, so it is you that likes your hair pulled - not him,” you tease. “Are you the one with the praise kink too, baby?” 

Either because he doesn’t want to say, or because he’s too immersed in the moment, he completely ignores the question. From the deepest part of his register and through clenched teeth, he says, “Fuck- Do it again.” 

You oblige him, strengthening the force behind the tug until he’s groaning with an intensity that’s making the sound skip. Without any kind of warning, he walks you back until you’re pressed against the cold surface of a wall, drops to his knees in front of you, and buries his face between your thighs. Your fingers are shaking as he swipes his nose over your clit a couple of times, making you yelp loud enough that it echoes. 

He coaxes you into a wider stance so he can drag the flat of his tongue over the broad area a few times, making you squirm, because it feels good, but it’s just a tease more than anything else. Which, you have to admit, you love - or, you must, because it gives you the kind of butterflies in the pit of your stomach that leave you dripping. 

Like he’s trying to further that point, he spreads you open with his fingers so he can press light kisses against your clit, slowly increasing pressure until he’s adding his tongue to the mix.

The rain falling outside mixed with the whispering crackle of the candle flames and the whimpers he’s drawing from your chest leave you not a lot to focus on as your eyes slip shut from the overwhelming pleasure - you’re left to pin your attention to the sounds of his mouth working against your slick skin and the shaky breaths he’s sneaking in between. 

Your head is tipped back against the wall, as far as it will go without causing you sharp pain, so when you force your eyes open, you’re looking directly up. Above you, painted on the ceiling, you can see a depiction of the Virgin Mary - it’s partly obscured by the rafters, but you can make out a little cherub on each side of her, and they’re holding a white banner that has a Latin phrase scrawled across it in gold leafing. 

You can’t suppress the laugh that bubbles out of you at the contrast, but luckily, it’s whiny enough that you can pretend it’s a cry of passion.

The fingers he was using to hold you open slip up to your clit so he can pull back the skin and lap over the exposed bud. It’s such an intense, stabbing kind of pleasure that it makes you release your hold on his hair so you can press yourself tighter to the wall. As your fingernails claw at the surface, you accidentally scrape off little flecks of paint from the art behind you - you can gather from looking at all the other pictures that line the walls that it’s a visual of one of the stations of the cross, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. 

You can’t bring yourself to feel anything but desperation to chase the feeling he’s supplying you. 

It’s embarrassingly high pitched as you rasp, “Fuck, why are you so good at this?” You pair the question with grinding against his face, effectively making it impossible for him to respond in any way but by sucking your clit directly into his mouth. Now, when you rock your hips, you’re fucking his face the exact same way he had been imaging doing to you in that memory he showed you. 

That thought makes every inch of your skin tingle, so you explore it. You play the moment behind your eyes - being him and feeling what he felt about you. It makes your heart beat erratically, drawing you closer to the very edge. 

“Fuck, please,” you choke out, fingers vibrating as you thread them through his hair. The shit you want to say to him right now is filthy - possessed in its own right, and you have to clamp your lips together until it hurts to keep it behind your teeth where it belongs. 

If you were the type to dirty talk, you’d tell him how pretty he looked with his face buried in your pussy. You tell him that you’re thinking about making it a daily thing - pinning him down and grinding against his mouth until you come. But you’re not really the type. And, besides that point, you think he already knows. 

The feeling drags you under as soon as he looks up at you and shows you how glossed over and lustful his eyes are. You can feel your muscles contracting against his tongue, and he even intuits that you want him to keep working at you with the same intensity through the height of your orgasm and wane away from it as you start to come down. 

You don’t register that he’s stood up until your eyes blink open and find that he’s holding you up - he has your chin hooked over his shoulder and your chests flush together, his arms wrapped around your waist. Once you’ve regained control of your body, you lean back against the wall, far enough away that you can take in the sight of his sweet face. 

When you kiss him, it’s strangely chaste - especially in the contrast of the taste you’re left with. It makes your face flame to note that his lips are still slick. 

You let him pin you to the wall and lick into your mouth as you try to savor the moment. You’d be a fool to not recognize the value of the situation - the soft glow against his face, the developing storm outside, and the delicious irony of a woman having an orgasm in a Catholic church. From being expertly eaten out. By a demon on his knees. 

And you get to experience it in a euphoric, post-orgasm haze that feels like the color maroon looks. 

But, then you remember that he hasn’t been touched yet, and you scratch your nails over his scalp in consolation. 

You open your mouth to thank him, but instead, your brain decides on, “I’m in love with this moment.” 

A smile spreads across his lips slowly, his eyes half-lidded from the wanting. “This moment is in love with you.”

It’s such a Josh thing to say that you can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. You loop your arms around the back of his neck and kiss him, trying to portray your gratitude, since you can’t find the right words. 

When he breaks away from you, he does so in a lingering way - like it pains him to do it. He slots his fingers in between yours and keeps your eyes as he leads you to the center of the room to a large nest of blankets that are laid out on the floor. It’s not unlike the one he’d made for you the night he gifted you your pomegranate tattoo, except this makeshift bed is lined on one side by candles of different sizes, placed in a shape that’s reminiscent of a crescent moon. You have no idea when he set this up because it absolutely wasn’t there when you entered the church, but you decide that now isn’t the time for pointless questions.

He makes sure to go slow, giving you plenty of time to object before he dips and picks you up like you’re his bride - which is fitting, being in a church and all. The more you think about it, the more you decide that maybe that was his thought process too. 

As he lies you down, you find there’s more cushioned than you’d thought - you’d been a little concerned about being fucked into the hard floor, but there’s even a squishy pillow under your head. 

You can hear a thread of thunder roll as he situates himself next to you and guides you on your sides, facing each other and the position conjures the memory of how you used to sleep next to each other like this, tucked into your sleeping bags in your parents living room and call it “camping out”. The three of you would stay up until one or two in the morning, laughing and talking about absolutely nothing until you finally passed out with bellies full of popcorn and untoasted marshmallows. 

He places a hand on your waist and scoots himself closer. You think he’s going to kiss you, so you prepare yourself for it only for him to connect his mouth to the side of your neck. The tickling sensation of his lips brushing the delicate skin leaves you with goosebumps. The rest of your body follows suit and reacts to him on its own as well, your spine arching in a wave-like motion as a chill crawls along the track of it. 

He uses the knuckle of his forefinger to trace along your curves, starting at your collarbone and drawing it down in between your breasts, over each of your ribs like speed bumps and then stalling just below your navel. He flattens his hand, placing his palm over your lower abs before sliding his touch down. You’re not sure how to comfortably part your legs for him, but he solves that before it can even cement itself as a problem - he grabs your thigh and lifts your leg until the back of your knee is hitched over his hipbone. 

“C’mere,” he requests, volume and tone low, but he doesn’t give you a chance to comply before he's drawing your face into his neck with a hand on the back of your head.

You immediately nuzzle your nose into the warm crook of his shoulder, so you’re not really prepared for or expecting it when he cups his hand over your pussy and gently applies pressure to your clit with the heel of his palm. 

You whimper and squirm at the overstimulated feeling, but he doesn’t persist at that - instead, opting to run his fingers along your slit and then dip his middle digit into you. 

It gives you a fluttery feeling in your ribcage as your heart seems to skip a beat. He works it into you for a few thrusts before adding his forefinger and fucking you with both of them. 

Your hips start grinding into him on their own, so you bite back a moan and tell him, “Fuck me.” 

You’re expecting him to give you shit - after all, some of the pushback you’ve been getting from him for the past couple of months had to have been a Josh quality to an extent. But, instead, he nods in hasty agreement and pulls his fingers out of you. 

He’s flipping you over onto your back a second later and settling himself over you. When he leans down to catch your lips in a kiss, his long curls brush your cheekbone, rosy from the nature of the situation. 

He rubs his cock over your clit, keeping the pressure light, and you can tell by the precision that he’s guiding the movement with his hand and not just rutting against you, uncontrolled. On the next swipe, he dips lower, letting the head catch on your entrance. He holds your eyes as he slowly slips it into you - or, at least, he tries to. When he realizes how nice the contact feels after going untouched for so long, he has to rest his forehead against yours as you both draw in quiet gasps. 

Your mouth is agape as soon as he starts to move because the drag of it feels electric. He works up to a steady, sensible starting rhythm and settles into it with ease. After you experimentally rock your hips back into him and the spark from it makes your fingernails curl into the flesh of his shoulder, you decide to meet each thrust halfway - the force of you working against him serves to drive him deeper into you with every stroke. 

It’s absolutely endearing to watch him struggle to prevent his eyes from slipping shut - to keep them fixed on your face like he’s trying to memorize the expression he’s eliciting from you. You grab the hair at the back of his neck and tug him forward until your chests are pressed together, and the new position leads him to change tactics - instead of pointed thrusts, he’s now left with only the option of rolling his hips up into you as he nips gently at your jaw. The friction this creates - your clit against the coarse hair at the base of his cock - forces a choked sound from the very depths of your chest. You’re still sensitive enough that the grinding of it feels like a flicker of fire traveling down your thighs and curling your toes. 

You can’t stop your mouth from telling him, in a gasping breath, how good it feels, and in response, he groans against your jugular vein. You catch yourself experiencing a chill at the thought that he could sink his teeth into your flesh there at any point, but you’re having a hard time differentiating between the thrill of fear and excitement at the moment.

“Is it too much?” he asks shakily, now seemingly aiming to rub against your clit with every other stroke. 

You’re able to breathe the word no, but it’s just barely audible over your panting.

He has to force all of his attention on the question to make it come out clearly. “You think you can come for me again?” 

You nod frantically and in response, he slips a hand down between the two of you. The general pressure had been nice, but now he begins to work on your clit with precision. He starts to massage circles over it with the pad of his thumb, and you have to bury your face into his shoulder to muffle the moan that he’s able to pull from your throat. 

The hum he lets out sounds displeased. “Let me hear it, bunny,” he states with his jaw set tightly. “I’ve earned it.”

Your face is burning out of embarrassment, and you can’t figure out why. “Josh-” you start to object, but he cuts you off by starting to snap his hips into you with a pointed force. 

You can’t hold back a pitchy whine, and the hope of doing so becomes even weaker when you remember that this is just Josh - just your best friend. There’s no demon persuading him towards this dominance. This is all him. You let your mind wander, imagining fucking him like this at any other point in your life before this. It all feels like wasted opportunities now. 

The memory of him in the shower haunts you again, and you groan as you think about how many times that must have happened. Before you can stop yourself, you press your lips to the shell of his ear and say, ”I fucking hate that anyone else on Earth has gotten to experience you like this.” 

The laugh that escapes him holds very little humor. “They haven’t,” he assures, shaking his head as he tries to maintain the rhythm under the stress of the building pleasure. “No one else on Earth has ever had as much of me as you do on any given day.” 

You bite into your bottom lip as hard as you can without breaking the skin as he switches up the way his thumb is swiping over your clit. Your fingers are shaking as you grab his face with both of your hands - you want to kiss him, but you can’t make your mouth work the way you want it to, so you settle for resting your forehead against his as he builds the peak for you. 

He looks enamored to the point of losing himself in it as his eyes flick around your face. At the height of it, you only remain aware enough to hear him talking to you - it’s gentle and assuring, but you can’t focus on any of the words for long enough to make sense of it. He pulls his hand from between you just a little too soon to really milk the orgasm for what it’s worth, but you’re able to ride it out by grinding into him like you had been before. 

You pull yourself back to Earth with enough time to feel him fall apart. The sounds he’s making are intoxicating, and you find yourself truly jealous of his ability to record memories in a more permanent way than you can because you’d love to keep them locked in your brain forever - they’re desperate and primal as he pulls you onto him. 

You’re running your fingers through his hair the entire time he’s coming down from the high, and when he’s regained enough of his senses, he breathes the word “fuck” and meets your eyes. Both of you are still trying to catch your breath as you press your thumb against his lips and receive a kiss against it in return. 

He folds his arms around you - one hand between your shoulders, and one on your lower back, and pulls you up until you’re sitting in his lap. Your muscles are sore and strained, but you know you’ve only got limited time now, so you force yourself towards clarity. 

“Will I ever get you like this again?” you ask, trying not to let yourself sound too forlorn. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But you’ve become a pretty skilled negotiator, so I’ve got a pretty good feeling you will. He likes you. But, even if you don’t, you just need to remember that it’s still me. ” 

As much as you wish it didn’t, the sentiment draws a peachy shade to your cheeks. 

“You shouldn’t keep him waiting,” he reminds you, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “But, I just need you to know that I’m happy.”

You nod in agreement and try to shove down the choking feeling that you’re about to send your best friend away. “Me too, babe. After a deep breath and a final smile of reassurance from him, you say, “Alright. Bring him back.” 

It’s instantaneous after that like all it took were those words to summon him from the void. This time, he doesn’t squirm or show any signs of pain - his eyes just white-out as his lips tug up into a smooth smile. He tests out his body, flexing his fingers in front of him and moving his jaw from side to side. 

As you frown at him curiously, you’re left with the overwhelming feeling that you’re in the presence of a hugely powerful entity, but in the months since the accident, you’ve never once felt like this. It’s a little nauseating like you’re staring up at a skyscraper from the ground below. “Paimon?” 

When he opens his mouth, you’re expecting Josh’s voice, so what comes out makes you suck in a sharp, frightened breath. Instead of a singular voice, it’s three - a feminine one that’s high pitched and shrill, one that’s midrange but still doesn’t belong to your best friend, and one that sits at the pit of the human register. They all speak in perfect unison, and together, they’re cacophonous. 

“Did you enjoy your alone time?” It’s not like his tone is accusatory, but it feels smug. You get a strange sense that he knows far more than you’d like him to in every way possible and it makes your skin crawl.

You’re still straddling his lap, completely naked, so he can see the exact effect his question has on you - goosebumps rise across the canvas of your skin for him that he strokes his fingers over. 

You force a nod and then swallow back the saliva collecting in your throat. “Is Josh okay?” 

Three voices give a hum of confirmation. “Of course, the boy is fine.” 

“Aren’t you going to meld your personalities back together?” you chance, only able to look into the white expanse of his eyes for a second or two at a time because you feel like they could suck you in. When he reaches to grab your chin, you have to fight the urge to lean away from him. 

“In time,” he assures in a stately manner. “You had your fun - now I’m owed mine.” 

Your eyes widen in suspicious shock. “The time that I had with him was a favor - you’ve already been paid what you’re owed,” you object, trying to sound firm but finding it hard to form the words in his presence. 

Firmly, but without malice, he states, “I decide what I’m owed.” The authority behind it tempts you to duck out of his way, but you can’t really, so you just lower your eyes and nod. 

“Now that you’ve ordered our consciousness’ separate, I can keep him shoved away in the corner of his own brain forever if I wanted to.” The mournful expression you adopt appears to be exactly what he had been hoping for because he shows you a smile. “But I won’t, because I’ve come to rather like you as a pet. In my opinion, that makes you the most fortunate human alive.” 

You’re not sure if he’s expecting you to thank him, so you don’t respond to that. Instead, you ask, “Are you going to get me home? I assume I’ll be passing out shortly.” 

With a hum, he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip and shakes his head. 

Cautiously, you offer him a curious frown. “What do you mean?” 

He flashes you a smirk and pulls you into a standing position. With a wave of his hand, you’re dressed in an all-black outfit, and so is he. 

Giving you no further warning, he starts pacing the pews, picking Bibles from the shelves and dropping them. They disappear before they hit the floor and reappear on top of the nest of blankets Josh had set up for you. 

Your stomach starts to sink the more clear his plan becomes. He could effortlessly collect the books all at once, but part of the enjoyment seems to come from the process of it. 

You cross your arms over your chest protectively, glancing around to keep your mind occupied until he’s finished. Once he’s got them all gathered in the center of the room, he paces to grab a candle from the end of one of the pews and then thrusts it towards you. 

You stare at it in concern but can’t bring yourself to take it from him until he forces your arm to move on its own. A frightened whimper leaves your tight jaw, but once you’re holding it, he releases the control and gestures to the pile of Bibles with a nod.

As much as you don’t want to do it, you’re more afraid of falling out of his favor. You toss the candle and the second the flame touches the books, they light supernaturally fast. 

You’re so engrossed in watching them catch that him setting his hand on your shoulder causes you to jolt dramatically. 

“What happened to your fear of me being non-existent?” he muses through a pleased grin. 

Once you can muster up your voice, you reply, “I was wrong.” 

He hums fondly and then nods towards the entrance. “Let’s go.” 

Outside, the rain is falling steadily, but getting wet is the least of your concerns now. As you walk by his side back down the road, you can hear the fire growing, crackling as it swallows the building whole. 

You pause and turn to watch it. It’s like a train wreck - it’s terrifying and awful and yet, the need to be there to witness it unfold consumes you. You’re aware that you’d stay with your eyes fixed on the scene until the church was reduced to a skeleton, but you’re not given the choice. 

“Come,” he calls, just a few steps away. He appears proud of the fact that you’re so fascinated by his work because he’s speaking through a self-righteous grin. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

AUTHORS NOTE! thank you guys so so so much for reading. you’re all so sweet for the time you put into enjoying this fic. Happy Valentine’s Day to you all! If you decide you’d like to, you can buy me a thank you coffee here <3

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[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Nia just needed a friend to do a hard mall trip. Trying out dresses. For a formal dance. And hey, maybe Lena and Kara are mad at each other but... She just needs Lena okay?

When Lena receives a call from an unknown number, she almost ignores it. But just enough people spread her phone number that she answers it on the off chance it might be someone who needs her.

“Lena Luthor, how can I help you?”

“Lena, please don’t hang up.”

The voice is familiar, but Lena can’t place it until the voice continues.

“It’s Nia. Nia Nal? And I know--” Lena almost hangs up right then-- not because it’s Nia, but because Nia treads dangerously close to a subject Lena is dead set on avoiding. Almost. “I know you have no reason to take my call, but… I need your help.”

Lena almost hangs up. She doesn’t.

“What do you need?”

---

The crisis, Lena learns, is that Nia has been given the assignment of her life covering the Golden Globes ceremony being hosted in downtown National City, but has nothing even remotely appropriate to wear. The mundanity of it all is so far from what Lena expects that it’s long moments before the words fully register.

“Uh, Lena…?”

“I’m here,” Lena says quickly, clearing her throat. She leans forward in her chair, rattling off an address. “Meet me there tomorrow at 11am.”

The next day, a few minutes after eleven, Nia walks up to Lena outside of Sylvie with hesitation all over her face. “Lena?”

Lena tucks her phone away and turns towards Nia with a professional but bright grin. “Nia, you made it.”

“Uhm, yeah actually… I kinda thought I’d gotten lost…”

Lena looks at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Lena, I can’t afford anything on this boulevard, are you crazy??”

Oh.

“You’re not paying,” Lena says simply.

Wide eyes blink at her in shock. “What? No! No, Lena, I can’t ask you to do that--”

“I’m offering.”

“Look, I was thinking we could just go to the mall--”

“The mall.”

Nia quails under Lena’s judgement, and Lena softens.

“Nia, you are about to be on the red carpet, covering an event that could catapult your career into the stratosphere. I think that warrants something a little more than what a department store can offer.”

“But…” Nia continues to protest, but uncertainty colors her features, and Lena knows she’s slipped under her guard. Carefully, Lena places a hand on Nia’s wrist.

“I won’t force you to accept what I’m offering,” she says gently. “But calling a Luthor for help means calling for a Luthor solution-- and nothing says Luthor more than shopping at the best boutique in town.”

Nia nods, but she ducks her chin with a swallow. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t want you to think that’s why I called, you know?” Nia expels a sigh, working a harried hand through her hair. “It’s just that Kara was supposed to come with me for moral support, but she’s had to cancel four times and the ceremony is in three days and if Andrea hears one more time that I don’t have a dress, she’s going to kill me…”

“Nia,” Lena says softly. Nia stops, and meets Lena’s gaze with a hesitant one of her own. “I would never think you were calling for a hand out. I’m offering.” Nia still looks uncertain, but Lena holds her gaze. “You asked for help… so let me help.”

Nia considers her words, studying Lena carefully. Finally, she wraps her arms around herself with a steadying sigh. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

Nia follows a few paces behind as Lena turns and approaches the door to the shop, lingering to let Lena be the one to press the buzzer to be allowed in. But as they near, the door opens for them, ready and waiting to admit them.

Luthors don’t use buzzers.

“Welcome to Sylvie.” A pair of well groomed attendants relieve them of their purses, exchanging their bags for a couple flutes of champagne offered by a third.

“Thank you,” Lena replies easily, well versed in the practice. Nia fumbles a step behind, her movements stiff and uncertain. Instead of moving directly into the belly of the store as she usually did, Lena lingers, allowing Nia the chance to take in the shop for the first time. The showroom looks much like any other, as could be glimpsed through the windows, styled with clean lines and immaculately dressed mannequins. The true Sylvie experience, however, happens further in, beyond the curtains that separate the dressing rooms from the rest of the store.

“If you’ll follow me, ladies, I’ll show you to your dressing room.”

Lena wonders what Nia expected as they approached one of the curtained off areas. Perhaps a cramped alcove like the hollywood thrift stores shown in coming-of-age films, where your elbows knocked the walls as you changed and you’d be lucky to find a stool to put your own clothes. Certainly it isn’t the plush, spacious room that awaits them, if Nia’s wide eyes are anything to go by.

Charnelle waits for them at the curtain. “Welcome, ladies,” she greets, parting the curtain so that Lena and Nia can slip inside. “Lena, lovely to see you again.”

“And you,” Lena returns.

“I’m Charnelle,” she introduces herself to Nia. “Wonderful to meet you. I’ll be assisting the two of you today.”

“Thankyousomuch,” Nia says in a rush, her shoulders tight as she shakes Charnelle’s offered hand.

Charnelle allows the curtains to close behind them, isolating them in their own little pocket of divine luxury. Lena settles herself on the central chaise lounge, folding her legs elegantly before her. Nia perches on the edge beside her, her gaze flicking to the small boudoir in one corner and another curtain that shields the actual changing area. Inside there, Lena knows Nia will find a plush bench to sit on as she undresses, and gold hangers to hold her clothes while she tries on various gowns. It’s designed to be beyond comfortable, a place where one could spend hours-- and lots and lots of money.

“So, what do you have for us today, Lena? Another benefit gala to dazzle?”

“Actually,” Lena replies, “Miss Nal here is covering the Golden Globes this week for CatCo Worldwide.”

“How exciting!” Charnelle rounds on Nia. “And what are you looking for in your gown?”

Caught with a mouthful of champagne, Nia freezes, then swallows audibly. “Um…” she coughs out. “Something nice? I probably shouldn’t be outdressing the stars or anything, so nothing too crazy?” She shrugs. “I don’t know, exactly.”

“Charnelle,” Lena intercedes, “could you bring us some formal options in black, maroon, or blue? Floor length, of course.”

Charnelle nods, beaming. “Absolutely.” She gives Nia a wink. “She has your colors nailed, honey. What are your measurements?”

Nia stares at them both. “Uh. A six, usually?”

“They’ll need your measurements to ensure a proper fit,” Lena delivers gently. “Do you mind if Charnelle--?”

“I’m trans!” Nia blurts, her chinks coloring a solid ear-to-ear pink. “Sorry,” she adds quietly. “But-- yeah. Just so you know.”

Lena stares, surprised more by the outburst than its content, but Charnelle takes it in stride. “So am I, baby girl,” she responds smoothly. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have a dress that fits.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nia finally, finally relaxes. She offers a shaky grin. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Charnelle gives Nia’s wrist a squeeze on her way to the boudoir to pull a tape measure from the top drawer. While she’s busy, Lena catches Nia’s eye and lifts her glass in a silent cheers of support. Nia rewards her with a small smile, before Charnelle returns and makes quick work of measuring Nia’s bust, waist and hips.

“All right!” Charnelle chirps, wrapping up her tape. “I’ll be right back with some options. You two stay here and get comfortable, all right? I’ll be right back.”

She disappears, and Nia all but collapses onto the chaise next to Lena. “I can’t believe I did that,” she groans.

Lena pats her on the knee. “You’re all right. Sylvie only gets my business because they know the value of discretion.”

“Yeah.” Nia lifts her head with a hum, surveying the dressing room once more. “This is nice. Thank you for talking me into it.”

Lena smirks. “Just wait.”

As if on cue, the curtains part to admit not Charnelle, but the woman who’d offered them their drinks. This time, her tray holds an array of small finger sandwiches. “Refreshments?”

“Oh, wow!” Nia exclaims, quickly helping herself to three. “Okay, yeah. I could get used to this.”

Lena grins, snaring a cucumber sandwich for herself. “Thank you. And another round, if you could,” she adds, seeing Nia’s empty glass.

The woman nods. “Of course.”

When she has disappeared again, the dressing room fills with quiet, and Lena realizes that she doesn’t have a clue what to say. She’s gone shopping with her mother, and with Andrea, and in both cases the conversation flowed easily, for better or for worse. But she’s never been shopping with a girl several years her junior, and never one in the middle of Lena’s biggest heartbreak.

“It happened the last time I went shopping for a dress too,” Nia says, breaking the silence. “The anxiety about… you know. I guess something about formal wear brings out the worst of it.”

Unsure of how to respond, Lena looks at her. “When was the last time?”

Nia sighs. “Prom. I’d transitioned by then, and most people were used to me, but I didn’t have a date, and part of me just internalized it as a fixture of me not being girly enough, and not, you know, the fact I didn’t know how to talk to boys, let alone date them. I didn’t even know if it was worth it to go at all, and I just-- started crying, right there in the dress shop.”

“What happened then?” Lena asks gently.

Nia smiles fondly. “My mom. She just hugged me, and told me how proud she was to have such a beautiful, confident daughter. It was sort of embarrassing at the time, but… it was something I needed to hear, you know?”

She pauses then as the server returns with their champagne. Afte the woman dips out again, Lena nudges her. “And did you ever find a dress?”

Nia snorts, nodding. “Yeah. Like, two minutes after I calmed down I found my dream dress. And my friends and I had a blast at prom, so I’m glad I went after all.”

“Good,” Lena murmurs, sipping her drink. “Well, I can’t promise anything about a dream dress, but I’ll call it a win if we get out of here without any tears.”

“Cheers to that,” Nia concurs, lifting her own glass for a deep sip.

In that moment, Charnelle returns, wheeling a short cart of long dresses along with her.

“All right, ladies-- who’s ready to see some gowns?”

---

Nia settles on a bias-cut gown of sky blue, accented with beaded embroidery at the bust and straps. It may not have qualified for dream status, but it’s perfect for the Globes, and Lena can tell Nia is excited by the time they step back out onto the street, garment bag draped over her arm.

“Thank you, again,” Nia offers, hiking her purse higher on her shoulder. “You really didn’t have to do all this, especially with how weird things are right now. I know it probably wasn’t easy to say yes when I called last night.”

Lena blinks. It honestly hadn’t occurred to her to say no. “Nia?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you call me?” It’s her turn now to shift uncomfortably on her feet. “I’m always happy to help, but… as you say, things are weird. Why me?”

“Honestly?” Nia asks. Lena nods. “You remind me of my mom. I can’t begin to tell you how or why, but you do. And the thing is… my mom was probably the kindest person I’ve ever known. So-- if you reminded me of her, I figured you were a pretty safe bet. And the worst you could do was hang up on me, so…”

Right.

Lena nods, her throat locking painfully around a sudden lump in her throat. Forcing a smile, she clears her throat. “Okay. Well… I’m glad I was able to help. Are you okay to get home?”

Nia nods easily. “Yeah, I’ll just catch the bus. Thank you again. This was really nice, and it was really good to see you.”

Lena nods, but before she can turn away, Nia catches her by the wrist.

“I mean it, Lena. I owe you one. If you ever need anything…”

Lena turns her wrist, allowing her hand to settle into Nia’s palm. Giving it a squeeze, Lena offers her a smile.

“I know who to call.”

// prompts are closed

[rocorambles]

Ruined Innocence

Pairing: Fallen Angel!Daichi x Angel!Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Manipulation, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Tentacles-ish, Forced Bondage, Corruption Kink, Dacryphilia

Summary: Not everyone is what they appear to be and you learn that the hard way.

A/N: This is for @seijorhi 's Deal with the Devil Collab! Masterlist can be found here.

You don’t love the way older angels endearingly pinch your cheeks and fondly ruffle the top of your head, sending you off on your way as they go about their chores. But you love the freedom to explore that comes with your new wings and you flit around heaven, adventuring out to the corners of the beautiful realm, eyes sparkling and mouth open wide in wonder as you see visions and scenes you wouldn’t even have been able to imagine back when you were a human.

Most angels congregate with each other, floating and meandering together as they perform their heavenly duties, content with harmony and unity. But maybe because your newly purified soul is still finding its way, you feel antsy, a very human adventurous streak still driving you as you sniff out remote and quiet corners, eager to see what’s around every corner.

There’s not a hint of wariness or sense of danger as you trek around, squealing as you continue testing your wings. Maybe it’s naivety, but who can blame you? You’re in heaven. Why would you ever think anything or anyone would harm you here?

Little do you know the archangels whisper to each other, sentries standing guard at every known opening between realms as the threat of warfare and espionage increases between heaven and hell after a devastating betrayal by one of God’s own most trusted archangels.

Sawamura Daichi.

It’s a name and a face that God has striked from heaven’s history, wiping the minds of anyone outside his inner circle clear of to maintain peace among the realm. And it works. Maybe too well.

A handsome brunette amusedly smiles at the lack of fear and recognition in your face as you cheerfully greet him, not a care in the world as you perk up and fly over to him, curious about the strange angel you’ve never met before.

Daichi had only meant to sneak in and out, hopefully spy and return back to hell with any secret information he could get out of his old fellow archangels. But like an attuned predator, his attention had snapped at the pretty little fawn he had seen playing in the outskirts of heaven, so vulnerable, so far from the rest of your feathery flock. And his mouth had salivated, something dark and yearning inside of him as he imagined how delicious corrupting your soft and sweet soul would be.

There’s no lack of powerful, beautiful, sensual female entities in hell willing to warm his bed. Daichi knows from firsthand experience, rarely spending a night alone. Even eternity is too short not to indulge in the sins of the flesh. But a part of him misses the docile submissive natures of angels, the thrill of power he feels knowing how easily his more angelic partners would listen and obey to his every whim and fancy. Playing with your food is all fun and games, but Daichi’s always found the actual act of devouring to be the best part of any meal. And you look absolutely mouth watering.

It doesn’t concern you that you’ve never seen this handsome angel before. Heaven is vast and as a novice angel, you’re sure there’s plenty of feathery companions you haven’t met yet. You’re more pleasantly surprised by the fact that there even is another angel in your secluded nook of the realm. And you’re quick to get comfortable with Daichi (although you blush when he so quickly tells you to call him by his first name).

He’s kind and funny. You can tell he’s actually listening to your every word and not just politely nodding like most of the other older angels you’ve met so far. He has a certain vibrancy to him that you can’t pinpoint, something so much more raw and vivid than what you’re used to from the more austere and demure palette of the rest of heaven.

But you startle when Daichi suddenly reaches out and slowly trails his fingers along the soft velvety plush of your wings, eliciting a startled gasp from you and a strange stirring feeling inside of you.

“They’re so pure and white.”

You try to laugh off the way your heart is pounding, the way your body wants to instinctively lean in closer to his warm touch as he continues languidly stroking your wings.

“Don’t be silly, Daichi. I’m sure your wings are just as pure and white, just like everyone else in this realm.”

You’re confused by his silent smile as he continues lacing his fingers between your downy feathers, but you don’t think to question it, not when it feels so right to just melt in the soothing feeling.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you startle awake when someone nudges you, face heating in embarrassment when you realize you’ve fallen asleep quite literally in Daichi’s arms. But you shyly smile when he waves off your profuse apologies, playfully whispering that you can make it up to him by keeping your meeting with him a secret so he doesn’t get in trouble for slacking off on work to hang out with you.

Your lips are sealed and in return for your slightly naughty deal, your heart warms and your eyes sparkle when he somehow finds you almost every day. You’re tempted to make a game of it, wondering if you made more of an effort to hide if he’d still find you. But somehow deep inside you know he would, that it wouldn’t deter him at all. And that thought alone brings a smile to yourself.

Is this what having a soulmate feels like? Do angels even have soulmates?

You know marriage is still a thing in this realm and you can feel yourself falling more and more head over heels for Daichi, letting yourself dream and think of what life would be like married to him, by his side for all of eternity. It would be a wondrous thing. A life full of adventures, laughter, kindness, and warmth. A life where you know you could always depend on him and trust him.

So when he kisses you one day, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you in close, you don’t resist. Instead you sigh in bliss as you feel your lips meld against each other. He’s so gentle, so careful as he deepens your connection, coaxing you into following his lead as he maneuvers the two of you on the wispy cloud cocoon beneath your feet.

You feel so loved, so taken care of as he murmurs sweet praises in your ear about how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how sweet you taste. But when you find yourself horizontal beneath him, scandalously molded to his body, hesitation and apprehension have you reluctantly separating your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

His hand cups your cheek, brown eyes staring down at you in concern and you feel more at ease as you nuzzle against his palm, gently pecking the center of it, ignorant of the way brown eyes darken at the action.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

“Can we- Can we slow down a bit? I love you, but we shouldn’t go any further until God blesses our relationship and we’re married. Right?”

It’s adorable how you know what’s right by heavenly standards, what you should and shouldn’t be doing. Yet there’s still a questioning lilt in your voice as you look at him for guidance, ready to take his lead and listen to whatever he says. You really are precious, aren’t you?

“We’ll be together forever. So what’s the harm in indulging ourselves now if we know that we’ll be bound for eternity anyway? Consider it a little sneak peek. Surely God will be forgiving if we go straight to him after this and ask him to bless our union.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He internally smirks at how your eyes light up when he expresses his desire to be with you. To his defense, it’s not a lie. He truly does want you with him forever, although he doubts it’s in the way you’re thinking. He’s no mind reader, but he can imagine the scenes of soft radiant glowing days and peaceful strolls hand in hand that race through your mind when you think of love. Unfortunately for you, the reality you’re being sucked into is much darker and much more stationary. (He sincerely hopes you appreciate the costs and efforts he’s gone through to spruce up his bedroom and bed as much as possible for your long-term stay considering it’s the only place he intends for you to see for at least a few centuries.)

This time you welcome him when he swoops down to capture your lips once more, your arms gently wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him down even closer to you. You bare your neck, easily following his silent commands as he trails kisses down from the corner of your lips to the side of your neck, gasping and arching into him when his tongue swipes a hot wet line at the junction of your shoulder.

You’re nervous as he coaxes you out of your delicate clothing and his cock twitches in interest at how you try to instinctively shield your body from his eyes, your arms crossing your chest, thighs clenching together. So different from the shameless females down below and he enjoys how it feels like he’s unwrapping an exclusive present as he eases your body, comfortingly kissing you as he guides your hands above your head and nudges your legs apart until he’s in between them.

You moan, writhing underneath him in a way that makes him groan as he sucks one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers. And he can’t resist how right it feels to grind and rut his clothed cock against your bare core, chuckling at how you whine and get flustered as he whispers to you about how wet you are, how much of a mess you’re making of his clothing.

You’re so sensitive, so reactive. He wonders if you could cum just like this, nipples toyed with and humping like wild beasts. You certainly look like you’re almost there and a mean smile splays across his face when he wonders what God would think if he saw his baby angel now, a lewd blissful expression blatant on your face, wanton moans filling the air. But time is limited especially when he’s not on his own turf and as much as he’d like to ruin you over and over again right here, right now, he knows he needs to deal the final blow.

He’s quick to shed his own clothing, firmly wrapping your spread legs around him as he finally sinks his cock inch by inch inside of you, throwing his own head back in pleasure as your tight wet walls wrap around him, eagerly sucking him in and clenching around him. It’s like you were made for him, made for this. And his eyes ravenously watch as you mindlessly blabber on and on about feeling full, feeling good.

He doesn’t usually like noisy bed mates, but you might be the one exception and he revels in your wails and broken cries as he begins to move his hips back and forth, observing how his fat cock obscenely stretches your pretty folds as he thrusts in and out. It’s impressive how you’re still hanging by a single fraying strand of consciousness when even seasoned succubi have succumbed into mindless pleasure-addicted messes from his cock. And he gifts the slipping clarity of your mind that recognizes him and calls his name over and over again with skillful circles around your clit, relentless until you’re thrashing and convulsing, practically screaming as you fall over the edge, pussy milking him and begging for his essence.

Who is he to deny you what your body wants? What your body needs? What he himself wants and needs?

So he finally lets himself go, sealing the deal with his own release, eyes twinkling in crazed amusement as his own wings finally flair out, revealing themselves to you for the first time as his body lances with pleasure. A sound halfway between a laugh and a groan escapes him as fear has you tightening around him and if he thought you looked beautiful before, you’re absolutely stunning now, shock and disbelief slicing across your perfect angelic face when you fully grasp the importance of his pitch black wings that shadow the both of you.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I thought you loved me.”

There’s no point in pretending to be gentle now and he forcefully pins your body down, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, biting on your lower lip and lapping at the blood that drips from your now marred face. Delicious. So fucking exquisite.

It’s tempting to continue and as he pulls away to regard you, he can feel arousal swirling inside of him at the sight of glistening tears streaming down your face. But he’s curious about your reaction, eager to hear what you have to say about this utter betrayal.

“A fallen angel…I slept with a fallen angel. How am I ever going to face God now?”

You’re not even looking at him anywhere, eyes glazed over as you mumble to yourself, mind still trying to process everything. And as pretty as you are with agony and sickening realization settling into your features, he scowls at the mention of God, irritation swelling inside of him at how fast you are to think of Him over Daichi, the fallen angel literally still inside of you.

He’s swift in his punishment, reminding you exactly where you are and who you’re with right now as he sharply juts his hips in a way that forces a surprised shriek from you as his cock rubs against your still sensitive walls.

“God isn’t your problem anymore, love. Look at your wings.”

Every part of you still in denial screams at you not to listen, to pretend none of this has happened, is happening. You want to believe God can make this right, that he’ll surely forgive you. But as if you’re in one of those inevitable horror films you used to watch as a human, your head slowly turns to the side, body going rigid when you see the expanse of ebony feathers where heavenly white used to be.

Now this reaction is much more satisfying and Daichi inhales your fear, a cold smile on his face as he watches you flail, wings wildly flapping as you try to somehow shake off the color, praying that it’s all a lie, that it’s not entirely irreversible. But he pins your wrists above your head when you attempt to painfully pluck out your own offensive feathers, peppering humiliatingly affectionate kisses all over your face to placate you.

“Please stop. Isn’t this enough? You got what you wanted. Tricked the silly angel. Made me an exile, a monster. There’s no place for me in heaven anymore. So just leave me alone. Please.”

You shudder at the dark laugh that seems to echo in your ears with his face right besides yours, cringing when you feel his wings droop down to rest against your own in an action far too intimate for what the two of you are.

“It’s not enough, darling. It’ll never be enough. But you’re right about one thing. You’re no longer welcomed in heaven, so let me bring you to your new home.”

You barely have time to understand the meaning of his words before you’re being whisked away, strong arms holding you tightly to a broad chest, the air around you growing darker, heavier, warmer. And then suddenly everything is still and you gasp as you’re thrown onto a silky plush surface, scrambling to sit up only to freeze in terror as you take in the grand and imposing bedroom you’re in, cold realization of exactly whose bed you’re currently on and what realm you’re in sinking in.

“No no no no no...At least let me go to Earth!”

You make to lunge off the bed, but an eerily familiar body forces you back down, once comforting brown eyes now only making anxiety churn alarmingly inside of you.

“I know it’s hard to believe me after all the lies, but I wasn’t lying about one thing. I do intend to be with you forever, so get comfortable, angel.”

You recoil at the mocking sneer associated with the pet name, the ironic use of the word disintegrating any fight left in you when the true hopelessness of your situation makes itself known. And Daichi watches in satisfaction at how you don’t even twitch as black shadows coil around your wrist and ankles, pulling you into a spread-eagled position, leaving your beautiful naked figure on full display for him.

But as despondent as you are mentally and emotionally, your body is already well on its way to adjusting and molding to his desires and he hungrily eyes the way it betrays you, arching and silently begging for more as additional shadow tendrils snake their way on and around every inch of you, some tendrils beginning to make their way in your gaping mouth, your still cum-filled hole, and oh...maybe he should have warned you that he planned on training all your holes, but he does so love the way your eyes blow wide open when a curios tendril wiggles its way into your puckered hole.

“Consider this your new full-time job, angel. Can’t have you living here rent-free after all. Now be good while I’m away and try not to be so loud. Wouldn’t want anyone else to hear you and decide they want a taste of a new fallen angel. I guarantee you no one else down here in hell is going to be as patient and kind as I am. Welcome to your new forever home.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, not that you’d be able to utter anything remotely intelligible around your screams and moans and the tendrils fucking your mouth. And as he makes his way to another meeting with Satan, he proudly flaunts his pitch black wings, a thoughtful smile on his face as he thinks of all the plans he has for you.

[choking-on-tae]

ATEEZ Reaction To: Going out with their S.O at 3 am because they can't sleep

Anon: Hi hi!! I've been having trouble sleeping lately and I was wondering if you'd want to write some reactions or scenarios for Ateez and their S/O being unable to sleep so they go out and have some cute fun like going to get food, taking walks or going to the park at like 3am and playing music and just generally having late night fun! If not that's okay too! 💕

-🪶

A/N: This is so relatable. I mean I need someone like this in my life and I think everyone does. Mentions of insomnia (obviously).This might be quite long.. As usual gifs aren't mine and credits to the rightful owners! x

Seonghwa

When Seongwa feels you turning for what feels like the 100th time he lets out a deep sigh as he sits up. Running his fingers through his hair as he turns to you. "Okay, we're going out."

You peek your head out from under the covers as you look at him. Eyebrow raised as you try to figure out if he's joking or not. "What do you mean?"

Seonghwa leans down until his face is mere inches away from yours as he says, "This obviously isn't working. And you can stay like this until it's time to get up only getting more frustrated, or we can actually do something fun."

You sit up straight as you push away the covers, letting out a soft yawn as you stretch your arms. "Okay, that seems like a good idea."

Seonghwa smiles as quickly gets dressed, you doing the same as you go outside. You've always loved going out in the middle of the night but don't do it on your own because it can be quite dangerous, but with Seonghwa you feel safe. Seonghwa takes your hand in his own as you two reach the center of the city.

Despite it being 3 am there's still a lot of people on the streets, which makes you feel more at ease. Seonghwa seems to notice as he watches you with a fond smile on his face. Not even 10 minutes later you pass by an arcade and Seonghwa's eyes lit up. You chuckle softly at his reaction as you pull him inside, getting some coins to use the machines as you make your way towards the claw machine.

Seonghwa watches with big eyes as you grab the remote and start to move it towards the plushie you've your eyes on. To your surprise the claw latches on and lifts up the plushie, bringing it to the hole as it falls throught.

Both of you scream in excitement as you grab the plushie, looking at it with a fond smile on your face before looking at your boyfriend. Seonghwa looks at the plushie the same way so you hand the plushie to him. His eyes widen as he tilts his head in confusion. "Wha-" "This is for you Hwa."

His lips spread into a bright smile as his eyes sparkle, looking at you full of love as he takes the plushie from you. He pulls you closer as he wraps his arms around you. Resting his head on your shoulder as he leans in to press a kiss against your temple. "Thank you sweetheart. It's so cute."

You turn your head slightly to be able to kiss him as you feel your heart flutter. "It's my thank you for taking me out. I really enjoy nights like this."

Now it's Seonghwa's turn to blush as he feels his heart flutter, placing his hand on your jaw as he pulls you in for another kiss. "You're welcome love. I really enjoy spending time with you like this."

Hongjoong

Hongjoong frowns when he sees your name lighting up his screen. He looks at the clock to check the time only to see it's 3 am. You're not supposed to be awake so he's surprised to see you calling him.

"Baby? Why are you calling me at this hour?"

"I can't sleep..."

Hongjoong feels his chest tighten as he hears your sleepy voice. You must be really tired. He rubs his face as he shuts down his laptop, this can wait. "Get dressed. I'll be there in 20."

He says, not waiting for your response as he hangs up, grabbing his things and walking out of the studio. Not even 20 minutes later he's knocking on your door. You open it, fully stressed but undoubtedly tired. Hongjoong pouts softly as he takes your hand in his. You lock the door behind you as you walk out of the building.

"So, where are we going?"

Hongjoong only smiles in response as he shakes his head. "You'll see."

The two of you walk around until you arrive at your favorite convenience store. The one that always has your favorite ice creams. You squeal in excitement as you run in, dragging your boyfriend with you as you stand over the freezer.

"I want this one! Which one do you want?" You ask, a bright smile prominent on your face as you wait for his answer.

Hongjoong leans over the freezer as his eyes land on one. "That one."

You nod as you open the freezer, taking out both ice creams as you make your way to the cashier. Hongjoong pays for the ice creams as you two sit down at a table.

"I was gonna pay.." You pout, staring at your boyfriend as you rip the packaging.

"I know, but since I took you out I wanted to pay." He says, flashing you his bright smile as he leans across the table to kiss your nose.

You giggle as it tickles as you feel your cheeks heating up. "Ah you're so cute when you blush!"

Now you're full on hiding your face behind your hands as Hongjoong's laugh echoes through the empty store. He leans across the table again as he removes your hands from your face, looking into your eyes as he smiles at you.

"You don't have to be shy baby. I think you're really cute like this. Even when you're dressed in comfortable clothes and not wearing any makeup I think you're beautiful."

Yunho

Yunho knows you've been struggling with insomnia a lot these days so he isn't surprised to see your name popping up on his screen. He just finished his schedule and was about to go home when he reads your message.

"Are you still in the studio? x"

He smiles softly as he reads your message, quickly replying that he's picking you up as he gathers his things. Not too long after he's standing in front of your door. Soon you open it, wearing one of his large hoodies he's given to you not too long ago. Yunho can't help but smile as he notices how cute you look. Unable to resist he pulls you in for a tight hug, resting his chin on top of your head as he gently sways you back and forth.

"You always look so cute in my clothes. Anyways, are you ready to have some fun?"

"Aren't you tired? You should sleep Yunho. Don't you have a sche-"

"-No I don't. I'm free tomorrow so let's have fun."

He says, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. You chuckle softly as you follow your boyfriend to his car. Not even 10 minutes later you arrive at your favorite ice cream shop. The mean reasons it's your favorite is because of the insane amount of flavors, and the fact that it's open late at night.

Yunho parks the car as you two get out, making your way inside and ordering your favorite flavors. You're about to sit down when Yunho stops you. "There's a cute park nearby. I thought that maybe we could go for a walk while we eat our ice creams?"

"Yeah that seems like a good idea." You say, a bright smile evident on your face as you walk out of the shop and into the park.

You've always wanted to go to this particular park at night, but were always scared to do so because it's dark and could be unsafe. With Yunho by your side you don't feel scared at all and admire the beauty of the trees. There's a lot of stars in the sky that light up the park beautifully as you're walking through it. Your fingers laced with Yunho's as you enjoy your ice cream.

Yeosang

One thing you and Yeosang share is your love for food, so when you couldn't sleep he thought the perfect thing to do would be going out for chicken, so you did. You sit down in your regular seat as Yeosang moves to sit down next to you instead of sitting across from you. You raise your eyebrow in question when he flashes you a warm smile.

"I just want to be close to you."

You nod in agreement as you feel him wrapping his arm around your shoulder. The waiter comes up to you to take your order as you order some drinks as well. This wasn't the first time you went out to have chicken at 3 am. Since you've been having a lot of sleepless nights lately and Yeosang comes back late from his schedule a lot lately so you've come up with this solution.

Yeosang smiles fondly at you as the chicken arrives. Both of you are practically salivating as you reach for your chopsticks, grabbing a drumstick and taking a bite. You hum as you taste the delicious chicken. Yeosang chuckles as he too grabs a drumstick and takes a bite. His reaction is pretty similar to yours as a bright smile spreads across his face.

You chuckle when you see a drop of sauce on the corner of his lips and grab a napkin, wiping it away as Yeosang blushes softly. A deep giggle escaping his lips as he feels a little embarrassed. "It's fine! I know you're a messy eater."

Now both of you are laughing as you stare at each other lovingly. "Thank you for keeping me company when I can't sleep."

"Of course baby. I would never say no to chicken. And if I can eat it with you it's even more perfect."

You gently hit his chest at his cheesy words as you feel your face heat up. Yeosang feels his heart warm as he pulls you closer, feeding you another piece of chicken before grabbing one for himself. It's little moments like that that he cherishes the most. One on one time in the middle of the night at your favorite restaurant. It couldn't be more perfect than that.

San

There's two things that always make you feel better when you can't sleep. 1: Music. 2: San. So why not combine both? You texted San asking if he's still at the company while you get ready. Not even 5 minutes later you heard your phone beep. When you check it you see it's San saying that he'll be done in 30 min. Perfect. You grab your keys as you make your way to the company.

As you arrive you spot San already waiting for you. He smiles brightly as soon as he sees you and runs up to you, wrapping his arms around you as he holds you close.

"I missed you." He says, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tightens his grip on you. You chuckle softly as you gently rub his back, pressing your face against his collarbone.

"I missed you too Sannie, that's why I wanted to see you."

San smiles brightly as he pulls back enough to be able to look at you. "Let's go, shall we?"

San nods as he takes your hand in his, pulling you with him as you enter the park. The two of you walk in silence for a bit until you reach a bench and sit down. San pulls out his earbuds as he hands one to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he starts a playlist.

You rest your head against his as you listen to the music. San's hand finding yours as you hold hands while listening to your favorite songs.

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out some of your favorite candy. You squeal in excitement as you grab one, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press a kiss against his cheek.

"You're the best San. Thank you."

San smiles brightly, flashing his dimples as he pops one in his own mouth. Resting his head against yours again as he stares out in front of him, getting lost in his own thoughts as he holds you close.

Mingi

Mingi pouts when he listens to you talk about how you can't sleep again. Feeling bad for you since this seems to happen more often. It's then that an idea pops into his head. "Hey baby, do you maybe wanna go get some food?"

He hears you hesitate for a moment before agreeing. "Okay. I can't sleep anyways so why not."

Mingi smiles as he hangs up, quickly getting ready to meet you at the restaurant. He only has to wait for 5 minutes before he sees you walking towards him, a tired but bright smile spread across your face as you instantly hug him once you're close enough.

Mingi chuckles softly as he holds you tightly. Resting his chin on your shoulder as he just holds you for a bit. Happy to have you in his arms again as it's been a while since he last saw you. Mingi pulls away just enough to be able to look at you and leans down to press a kiss against your forehead.

"Let's go in, hm?"

You nod as you take his hand in yours, pulling him inside as you sit down at a table next to the window so you're able to look over the city while eating. Mingi grabs the menu as he looks over it, checking to see if they still have the special from last week. Thankfully they do. Mingi smiles brightly as he looks at you, pointing at it on the menu as your eyes land on.

"Oh my god they still have it? Let's get that!"

Mingi smiles brightly as he places the order. While you wait for your food to arrive Mingi leans across the table to take your hands in his as he stares at you with a fond smile on his face.

"You know, I hate that you're struggling to sleep lately but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy spending time with you like this. In the middle of the night when there's barely anyone, and it can just be the two of us like this."

Your heart flutters at his words as you smile brightly, unable to stop yourself from doing so as Mingi does the same. The waiter brings your food, causing you two to cheer happily as the waiter chuckles. Telling you to enjoy your meal as you thank him, quickly grabbing your spoons and digging in.

Mingi hums happily as he takes another bite. You giggle at your boyfriend's expression as you take a sip of your drink.

"Mingi." "Hm?"

You rest your chin on your hands at you look up at your boyfriend, a bright smile on your face as you say, "Thank you for everything."

Wooyoung

Wooyoung always comes up with random ideas, so when you're unable to sleep and keep tossing and turning it seems like the perfect opportunity for something spontaneous. Wooyoung turns to face you as he pulls the covers down to be able to look at you. You open your eyes and peek up at him. "Why are you still up Woo?"

Wooyoung smiles brightly as he leans down to press a kiss against your nose. "Let's do something fun, since you can't sleep anyways."

You hum in response as you feel Wooyoung dragging you out of bed. The two of you get dressed quickly before going out. Thankfully the convenience store is still open so you stop by to get some snacks before going to the arcade. It's one of you guys' favorite places so the perfect place to go now.

Wooyoung instantly runs to his favorite game, which makes you giggle. You follow your boyfriend as you watch him throw in some coins and get ready to play against him.

Both of you watch the countdown until it gets the 0. You've a head start but it doesn't lake long before Wooyoung races past you, making you groan. Wooyoung chuckles in response as you continue racing at each other. Finally you're the one who finishes in first place. You cheer loudly as you watch Wooyoung groan.

He really wanted to win but when he sees your happy face he can't help but feel happy for you. "Good job baby."

Wooyoung hugs you tightly as you make your way over to one of the tables, getting out your snacks and munching on them. Occasionally feeding each other as giggles fill the arcade.

Jongho

Jongho is very caring and loving, so when you can't sleep he's over at your place in a heartbeat. You get out of bed and change into something more comfortable to go out. Jongho waits patiently for you to get ready as you head out to go to the park. Thankfully it's not too far from your place so it doesn't take long until you arrive. Jongho wraps his arm around your lower back as you two walk around the park. Because of a festival that's happening soon there's a lot of lanterns in the park, which makes it even more beautiful and scenic.

The vibe is much more romantic as you turn your head to give Jongho a kiss on the cheek. He blushes softly as he turns his head the other way so you won't see him blush. You're having none of it and turn his head to the other side.

"Don't hide from me! You're so cute when you blush."

Jongho blushes even more at your compliment as the two of you giggle. When you reach the middle of the park there's a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms. During the day the bench is always taken, but now it's midnight there's no one in the park.

Which means that you can finally sit on it, so you do. Jongho sits down next to you as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"This is very pretty, isn't it?" He asks, turning his head so he's looking at you.

"It is. I'm very glad we came here." You say, resting your head on his shoulder as you snuggle closer to him.

"So am I, thank you for coming with me. And if you can't sleep again at night, let's come here again. I really like spending time with you like this when there's no other people there to interrupt is."

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along. 

[ironhusband]

Read on AO3 

Honestly, Bucky had expected that dating Sam would be easier than this.

With everything that he and Sam had gone through to finally get together, he had wanted everything to be smooth sailing once he finally had Sam. Their perfect happy ending, cut straight from the movies and into their lives. They deserved it.

That wasn’t real life, however.

When Bucky finally had Sam in his arms, there were a myriad of relationship things that Bucky had to learn. He had to get used to all of Sam's quirks and he had the entirety of Sam’s family to win over. He had to learn the way to this obscure place where Sam liked to buy his orange juice and he had to study for days to remember that Sam’s aunt liked orange jewelry. But if Bucky was honest? He didn’t mind that part. He didn’t mind getting to know what Sam was like in a relationship or meeting Sam’s family. That would never be a hardship for him.

What he did mind was that stupid fucking drone.

It all started with Sam and Bucky making out on the couch. This wasn’t unusual in itself; sometimes the news was boring and Sam and Bucky got distracted. Sucking on Sam’s tongue was more interesting than anything else, frankly.

Sam was pressed against the couch by Bucky’s hips, his hands wandering under Bucky’s shirt as Bucky took Sam’s lips between his teeth. Sam removed his hand from Bucky's shirt to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, causing Bucky to pinch Sam’s waist. Bucky was coming up to change the angle of the kiss and-

When he looked up the drone was staring directly at them.

It took a long time for Bucky to recognize that their home was safe and not, as a reflex, shoot at any sort of intimidating sight and sound. Still, he startled and yelled, “why the fuck is your pet staring at us?!”

Sam looked back at what made Bucky exclaim and smiled at Redwing. “Oh, hi, there, little guy,” he cooed, “enjoying the show?”

“Sam,” Bucky hissed, annoyed at his boyfriend’s reaction, glancing back and forth between the drone and Sam, “he is staring at us."

Sam shrugged, wrapping his arms around Bucky's shoulders, "so?"

Bucky spluttered, exasperated, "He is recording us. How can you be so calm about this? What if he puts this on the internet?”

“He won’t put this on the internet,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” Bucky challenged, knowing the real reason. Sam was still insisting it was Redwing who put the footage of him falling through the tree on the internet, and he was determined to make him confess it was his doing (that video got 1000000 likes!).

“Well, first of all,” Sam explained, straightening up, smug grin on, “because no one wants to see you kissing.”

“You want to see me kissing,” Bucky countered.

“My one flaw,” Sam teased, “and two, his camera isn’t on. He just likes flying around sometimes.”

Bucky glanced at the drone, whose cold, robot eyes, peeking just beneath the shell on the drone, stared back at him. “Can’t you make him stop?”

“I wasn’t listening when Stark did the seminar about the AI inside him. Lost the manual too.”

Bucky looked at the drone again, and then quickly turned away while he muttered, “there must be a deactivation code.”

“I sorta don’t want to find it,” Sam confessed, “I like his quirks.”

“But he isn’t supposed to be flying around with his camera off. It isn’t what he was made for.”

“He’s sleepwalking,” Sam said, fondly.

“He’s creepy.”

Sam gasped, “how dare you say that?!”

“Robots shouldn’t sleepwalk!”

“Redwing isn’t a robot! He’s a drone!”

“Same difference!”

“It is so not same difference. Besides, Redwing is better than just a normal robot, he is-”

He and Sam bickered for the rest of the evening and Bucky forgot all about the drone when they moved into the bedroom. But it began like this.

~~~

Bucky woke up to get milk the next morning. Sam usually got up earlier than Bucky, waking to go run. He would accidentally wake Bucky up by kissing his cheek before he went out (running reminded Sam of Steve and sometimes he needed a little reassurance), and then Bucky would burrow into the blankets for half an hour before getting up to eat cereal. Bucky liked the early hours of the day when he had the house to himself and could wake up properly before Sam would get home. Before they moved in together, Bucky had made the mistake of getting up after Sam had already returned from his run, and he didn’t have the brainpower to retort when Sam called him a heathen for pouring his milk before his cereal.

When he got up this morning, the drone was there, staring at him.

Bucky was mid-yawn when he yelped at the flying thing in front of his face.

“Holy fucking shit, man, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” he exclaimed at the drone, clutching at his chest.

“That’s not good,” the imaginary Sam in his head said, looking, amused, at Bucky’s clutching-his-pearls position, “you need to watch your heart at your age.”

The drone didn’t say anything. Bucky rolled his eyes. “What are you looking at?” he challenged.

The drone still didn’t say anything.

Bucky moved cautiously, one leg in front of the other while he watched the drone, “I’m just getting breakfast.”

The drone turned his head towards him with his every moment. The whirring, easier to hear in the quiet morning, gave Bucky chills.

He glanced once at the drone and then once at the refrigerator before deciding to ignore the robot. Even if it was creepy that his camera wasn't on but he could still follow him, what would he do? Shoot him? Sam disarmed the drone every time he was off duty. So Bucky opened the fridge and got out his milk, blocking the drone from his view with the door.

Sam hated it when he did it, but he unscrewed the milk and drank some of it (”we exchange spit regularly, I don’t see the big deal.” “You put it so romantically~”). Cold milk always helped Bucky wake up and he “ahh”ed when he stopped feeling the thirst he always felt when he was just waking up.

He shut the door of the refrigerator, and apparently, Redwing has gotten twenty steps closer.

He screamed at the drone near his face and threw the cap at him.

~~~

Turns out, Redwing’s camera was on and Sam laughed for 20 minutes at the footage.

~~~

The next time it happened, Bucky was coming home from one of his therapy appointments. The BARF sessions were always a pain in the ass (reliving his past wasn’t remotely fun) but Bucky knew he sometimes had to go to them to make sure he wouldn’t go all Winter Soldier again. Anything to keep Sam safe.

Bucky liked to come home and cuddle with his boyfriend (who usually also had an exhausting day of being Captain America) when he got home, but today was different.

A purring Redwing was found in Sam’s lap when he went into the living room.

“Hey!” Sam greeted, seeing unable to give him a welcoming kiss due to the robot in his lap, “how did it go?”

“The usual,” Bucky replied casually. He eyed the drone, “does he usually... do that?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “he noticed I was bummed so he came to cheer me up. Isn’t that right, Red?”

Sam pet Redwing’s red-paint-coated shell and the robot buzzed happily.

“Weird...” Bucky mumbled under his breath and then flopped next to Sam, “why were you bummed?”

“I fucking hate the UN,” Sam announced, “excuse me for not wanting to end up at jail for accidentally scratching some rich dude’s car.”

Bucky kissed Sam’s cheek, “I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

“’ Is okay. We’ll settle it all eventually. Just wish that I didn’t have to do it.”

“No, you don’t,” Bucky pointed out, knowing how much his boyfriend loved being Captain America.

Sam smiled shyly, that smile of his that made Bucky fall head over heels for him, “no, I don’t.”

Bucky kissed Sam’s neck. Sam’s smiles would always get him soft, which meant he had to kiss every inch of him. Sam giggled at Bucky rolling the skin between his lips and he brought a hand to the back of Bucky’s head to caress his nape. Bucky kissed further down his neck, reaching Sam’s collarbone and-

Sam gently pushed him away. Redwing was buzzing irregularly in his lap.

“Hey, there, little fella, don’t be mad,” Sam tried to appease him by stroking him, “Bucky just distracted me for a moment.”

Bucky huffed, disappointed at the interruption. “Not fair,” Bucky grumbled, “I had Sam cuddling dibs.”

“Awww,” Sam teased, his trademark smug grin on his face, “are you jealous?”

Bucky huffed and pushed his shoulder, “no, I’m not jealous. I love you and your weird robot.”

Sam laughed and didn’t retort, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder as they turned on the TV.

~~~

Bucky did get a little jealous when Sam had to sleep on the couch because he didn't want to disturb Redwing ‘napping’ on his lap. He was still jealous, despite how adorable Sam looked with the blanket around his shoulders and drooling on the backrest of the couch.

~~~

Bucky could have handled hogging Sam or Redwing hovering or wondering if the drone was recording while he and Sam were just being domestic, but he drew the line at forcing him to stay in his apartment.

“Okay, freak,” Bucky announced to the drone, “I’m going shopping. Do you need anything?”  

The drone didn’t respond. Bucky pulled the jacket on and stuffed his keys in one of the pockets. The drone followed his movements as he got ready to go outside. “I’m going out now,” Bucky informed him before he turned around to leave the apartment.

The drone was staring right back at his face as he moved towards the door. Bucky didn’t jump this time, long used to how Redwing could sneak up on people. “God, how do you do that? Did Stark figure out teleportation or something?”

The drone flew mute, as always. Bucky sighed and went to open the door but Redwing blocked his hand before he could reach the knob. “Ow! Son of a bitch!” he cursed as his hand crushed against the drone, “what, what’s the matter? I can’t leave my home now?”

The drone didn’t respond.

“You know, most pets beg for their owners to take them outside.”

The drone still didn’t respond.

Bucky sighed, and reached for the door, more gently this time, and managed to successfully open the door.

Bucky cheered triumphantly, “not so tough now, huh?”

The drone didn’t show any sign that he understood but when Bucky tried to exit he blocked his way.

“Seriously?” Bucky huffed. He moved an inch to the left quickly and the drone zoomed towards him. “Seriously?” he complained and tried to move another inch, slower this time. The drone followed his painstakingly slow movements, centimeter for centimeter. “You motherfucker.”

He tried to get through the door from the left side and the right side, but wherever he went, Redwing followed him. “I’m going to walk out of this door like a normal person,” he told Redwing, “I’m not going to limbo under you, or jump over you, or fight you or anything like that, so. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Three minutes later, Bucky found himself on his knees, face to face with the drone, “you know, if Sam didn’t like you so much, I would dismantle you piece by piece.”

~~~

Sam paused at the open doorway, looking at his boyfriend and his drone staring at one another.

“Are you having a staring contest?” Sam quipped, “because that’s our thing.”

“It won’t let me leave,” Bucky complained.

Sam raised an eyebrow, walking through the front door, “it? You used to call him him.” Redwing followed him, softly nudging Sam’s head and asking to be pet.

Bucky threw his hands in the air in frustration, “him is for things who aren’t menaces!”

“That’s not my experience,” Sam joked, petting Redwing as it asked.

Bucky glared at him, “that’s not funny. That drone is the executor of Tony Stark’s will and it is trying to kill me!”

Sam laughed, “don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“Two days ago, I swear I saw it give me a withering stare while it was on your chest.”

“He’s a drone, Bucky,” Sam emphasized, “they don’t have expressions.”  

“Doesn’t stop him from doing all the other human stuff!”

“Bucky,” Sam shook his head, “Redwing likes you.”

Bucky scoffed, “if Redwing was armed, it'd kill me in my sleep.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“When’s our next battle? I bet it'll finish the job then!”

“If only I had a schedule of that...”

“That thing drives me crazy!”

“Bucky!” Sam exclaimed, “all those things Redwing does, he does because he likes you.”

Bucky blinked.

“Think about it,” Sam began explaining, “for weeks after you moved in, he hasn’t moved from his spot, but now he has suddenly decided to move?”

“It has decided it can no longer be passive about me anymore?” Bucky suggested.

“Or-” Sam suggested his interpretation, “-he decided he can trust you and he wants to get to know you.”

Bucky peaked at Redwing behind him, “seems unlikely.”

Sam raised his hands, “don’t ask me to explain his bad taste.”

Bucky looked at the drone, “it likes me.”

Sam nodded, “and unfortunately, so do I.”

"It has a weird way of showing it," Bucky pointed out.

Sam grinned, "well, so do you."

~~~

“What do I do?” Bucky whispered to Sam, panicked.

Sam shook his head. "Pet him, you moron," he told him fondly.

The drone has decided to land in his lap. Changing Redwing’s batteries was like feeding a dog, and now Redwing has decided that Bucky deserved affections. Bucky carefully put his hand on top of the drone’s surprisingly warm metal and started rubbing his hand on the shell.

“There you go,” Sam congratulated him and put his head on Bucky’s shoulder, his hand on the drone, joining the petting. He turned on the TV, “what do you want to watch tonight?”

Bucky looked at Sam, at how calm and happy he looked because of Bucky and Redwing getting along. He looked down at the drone steadily purring louder in his lap.

“Yeah,” he thought, “this is a happy ending.”

[vibesandwonders]

“The what?”

“The Lord of the Rings,” Sam stops dead, and jogs back to him, “You serious? You said you read the Hobbit?”

“Yeah?”

“JRR Tolkien?”

“Yes.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

“But you don’t know The Lord of the Rings?”

“If you keep repeating it, maybe it’ll catch this time.”

Sam’s mouth falls open, “Mother of— they froze you before Lord of the friggin Rings?”

Bucky blows out a blast of annoyed air and moves to run, Sam grabs his forearm, “Stop that, we’re talkin—“

“—We are running.”

“Not anymore,” Sam leans his weight on Bucky and laughs, “Shit. I always forget that they popsicled you,” He shakes his head, “Tolkien, he wrote the Hobbit yeah, but like… ten years later he wrote a Trilogy, the Trilogy, like, the one to rule them all.”

“Are they any good?”

Sam practically squeals with laughter, his arm still looped inside Bucky’s, “Yes.” He says, emphatically, grinning so much that Bucky is tempted to smile back, almost, “The movies are good too.”

“Movies?”

“Moving pictures?” Sam grins wider, “Talkies?”

Bucky tilts his head, rolls his eyes, already ready to run again, Sam’s having none of it, he starts pulling Buck back the way they came,

“What about the run?”

“This,” Sam insists, “Is more important, we gotta head back,”

“It’s 7am.”

“Exactly, which means we’ve got time to hit the store on the way home,”

“Why?”

“Provisions, we’re gonna be busy all day, we need to have snacks and keep hydrated.”

“What?”

“Extended editions baby, this is a 12-hour Lord of the Rings lockdown,” He grins at Bucky, “Consider yourself absolutely blessed that I was nerdy as hell in high school. I gotta text Torres, tell him we are taking the day off.”

“You’re taking a day off, from being Captain America?”

“He’ll understand.”

~ Hours later~

“Bucky,” He sighs, and plants his palms on the kitchen countertop, “James Buchanan Barnes,” Nothing.

He takes his phone out and pauses the damn TV,

The man in question rotates very slightly, his eyes wide, red, in shock, also as pissed as Sam had quite possibly ever seen him, including the time he was kicked off a domestic flight home because of his ‘metal arm’.

“You good?” Sam asks,

“So they just left him? After he sacrificed himself to get them out and across the bridge of Khazad-dûm and away from the Balrog?”

Oh Jesus,

“The bridge of Khaza—" He stops himself, chuckles, can't help it, he shouldn't surprised by this and yet, "Yeah man, they couldn’t—“

“What? Walk out there and grab his hands? There were eight men,” He shakes his head incredulously, “Bilbo’s nephew, wouldn’t walk twenty feet to save Gandalf?”

“Wait wait, Are you crying man?” He smirks, teasing, “There are two and a half more movies to go Buck, and you’re already out here cryin’ your ass off, you gotta chill—“

Bucky regards him sourly, “Have you even read the Hobbit?”

“Not even gonna dignify that kinda hostility with an answer James.”

He unpauses the tv and digs through the fridge, a moment later, the TV pauses again,

“Sorry.” Bucky mutters, “I uh, I’m enjoying them.”

“I can tell.” Sam says, and again, a grown-ass man getting way too sucked in to a High Fantasy trilogy 60 years late shouldn’t be damn adorable, but it is, “You hungry, oh member of the fellowship?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, turns back around,

“Is there coffee?”

Sam grins, and starts filling the water kettle.

“We, are gonna take a break.”

Bucky spins, finger already on the remote to jump to the next movie, Sam shakes his head.

“You haven’t eaten yet, and this is our…shit, third pot of coffee.”

“But they’re taking the hobbits to Isengard.”

Sam cackles, “Yeah, you are indeed correct, that is happening, but, we got 8 more hours of cinematic masterpiece, and you— are gonna eat somethin’”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Would Aragorn not sustain himself while trying to rescue Merry and Pippin?” He asks dramatically,

Another eyeroll, but he stands and stretches, folding one of the new blankets that had somehow started appearing randomly inside his apartment.

“How do you feel about cookies?”

He watches the top of his head twist, but Bucky’s eyes don’t leave the screen, “Thought we were eating lunch?”

Sam laughs, “Thai?”

He texts Sarah, attaches a picture of Bucky swathed in a blanket, staring in fascination at the TV.

“He’s never seen Lord of the Rings.” And then a bunch of laughing emojis.

“So where’s Rohan in relation to Mordor?” Bucky asks over the top of the couch, “They keep talking about the Gap of Rohan, but then…”

“Google it.”

“You’ve got your phone.” Bucky argues, “Do library books still have the maps in the back nowadays?”

Sam’s already got his app open, Complete Works of JRR Tolkien, Hardback

He swipes and makes sure they have maps— New York freakin City, it’ll be delivered before they finish the second one.

“Sam needs to kill Gollum.”

He looks up at the mention of his name, grinning at the screen, then back at the microwave: he lost rock, paper, scissors, so popcorn’s on him.

“Smeagol?”

Bucky purses his lips, unimpressed, “He is clearly untrustworthy, “

“Sam’s also a little jealous of Frodo’s attention, they’ve been one-on-one for a while now,”

“I guess,”

“Frodo also sees a lot of himself in Smeagol, what he could have become…”

Bucky pauses the movie, “they’ve still got those elf-blades.” He mutters, “He’s talking to himself, and creeping off in the night, Sam should kill him, and tell Frodo he found him that way.”

“He was Aragorn’s best friend,” Bucky murmurs, his voice is a little choked up, “He came to defend the men of Rohan.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Sarah’s texted him back:

“Oh god, you found another geek.” She says, “Are ya’ll gonna like have a Star Trek themed wedding?”

Bucky’s got the second book open across his knees, his fingers holding it open so he can occasionally frown down at the maps.

“He died protecting him.”

“They had a bond.” Sam agrees, “Read the appendices, there’s loads more about the elves. Just wait until you get deep in the Silmarillion.”

“Yeah.” Bucky says, only half-listening, “Starting to think his ‘heir of Gondor’ schtick is getting old, man can’t even protect his friends— and where is Gandalf?”

“Are you shitting on Aragorn? Son of Arathorn?”

Bucky shrugs, “Just seems like he’s avoiding his calling, what he’s good at, born to do… running from it, cause he’s scared.”

“It’s a lot of responsibility he didn’t ask for.” Sam replies mildly,

“Tough shit. Sometimes you just gotta use the cards you’re dealt.” Bucky stands, “I gotta pee.”

“You think I should grow my hair out?”

Sam hides his grin, making an effort not to stare at Aragorn on screen, who is currently smoldering with the best of them,

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy, Buck.” He takes a sip of his coffee (decaf this time) and stares fondly (not really) at the side of Bucky’s face. Sure, he’s distracted, but at least this time it’s not damn mission files.

Buck grunts, they’re sprawled next to each other on the couch, knees touching, blankets shared and spread between them. Between bathroom breaks and Sam occasionally poking Bucky to make sure he was still breathing, personal space had become even less of an issue than usual. Not that Sam was terribly bothered by it. They’re roommates, sorta? Partners?

A couple of guys.

“So, Arwen or Eowyn?” Bucky asks, still unblinking, Sam is pretty sure he unleashed a monster, cause this boy is a nerd. He’s already googled other trilogies, on Sam’s phone. Sam is pretty sure movie night might become a thing.

Buck’s still waiting on his answer, it’s a timeless question to be sure, Sam pretends to ponder it.

“Eomer actually.” He says, keeping his eyes on the screen, “Loyal, strong, and the man knows how to ride.”

actual fic here plus others, leave some love, say hi,

[starryhyuck]

Hello! Can i request an smut with Johnny? A very soft and caring school girl that actually is a very filthy girl and never stops thinking about Volleyball Player!Johnny. Thank you for taking your time, hope you're taking care 💖 Have a good day or night

seo johnny will kill you someday.

you’re absolutely sure of it as you watch him on the court, diving for the volleyball before it hits the ground. the whole auditorium breaks into applause when he’s able to get it over the net and score a point for the team.

the other team calls for a timeout, and yoojung nudges you and points to the line for snacks. “i’m gonna get a burger. want something?”

you shake your head and she leaves your side. your eyes return to johnny’s figure as he towers over his teammates, drinking from his water bottle as the coach relays the game plan for the rest of the team. you drink in the sight of him and although your friends would never know it, johnny’s got your panties soaked.

none of them know about your crush on the captain of the volleyball team, they just genuinely believe you like watching the game. they have no reason to think otherwise — you play the part of an innocent school girl very well. they have no idea that your mind swirls with thoughts about bouncing on johnny’s cock in the school’s library-

you’re taken out of your trance by the referee’s whistle. you cough when yoojung comes back, sitting down next to you.

“i heard there’s a party at jaehyun’s after this. wanna go?”

you shrug. “sure. sounds fun.”

you’ve been to a few of jaehyun’s after game parties and they’re pretty tame. jaehyun’s not exactly looking to throw a rager on a school night, he usually just wants to hang out with his friends and talk about the game.

the last few times you attended, you’ve gone with your friend, mark, who’s good friends with johnny. johnny likes to tease mark often since he’s younger and so he can watch mark flush with embarrassment.

it’s not like johnny doesn’t know who you are either — you’ve just never been close enough to hold a conversation with him. you run in the same group but you’re not as acquainted with him as your other friends.

you’re brought back to the current reality when the people next to you stand up to cheer. yoojung is one of them, tugging your arm and hauling you up from your seat. you realize that your team has won the game and you weren’t even paying attention.

johnny is rejoicing, laughing and enveloping his teammates in a large group hug.

“can you believe we won?” yoojung yells in your ear over the noise. “let’s congratulate them!”

like the rest of the crowd, you and yoojung run down the steps and flood the gymnasium floor. you’re lost in the sea of bodies and you’re surprised when johnny comes into your view.

he’s laughing with jaehyun before he realizes you’re standing there.

“good game,” you shout at him.

he chuckles, his eyes sparkling as he smiles at you.

“thanks, y/n.”

“are you coming to the party, y/n?” jaehyun asks. johnny throws him a look that you don’t catch.

“yeah! i’ll be there!”

he smirks and johnny hits his shoulder. you ignore their interaction when johnny’s gaze returns to you.

“see you there.”

—

most of your friends have already arrived when you and yoojung pull up to jaehyun’s house. jihyo takes your arm and asks if you’ve finished the homework for calculus while yoojung tells you she’s going to find something to drink.

johnny’s lounging on the couch next to ten, laughing at whatever taeil has just said. you pretend to be remotely interested in what jihyo has to say, eyes focused on the leather jacket hugging johnny’s body so perfectly.

“so what do you think? study session together on thursday?”

you blink twice and return your gaze to jihyo, who is patiently waiting for your response. you clear your throat awkwardly.

“yeah! that sounds great!”

she smiles thankfully at you before excusing herself to go to the restroom. jaehyun notices you from his spot at the kitchen counter and motions for you to walk over to him.

when you approach him, he smiles fondly at you.

“you came!”

“i said i would,” you murmur, accepting the drink he offers you.

his dimples poke out as his grin never falters. his eyes flit over to where johnny is sitting.

“johnny was hoping you would come.”

“oh?” you murmur, coughing a little. you ignore the sound of jaehyun’s snicker. “why would that be?”

jaehyun is looking like the cheshire cat at this point. “take a guess. why would johnny want to hang out with a pretty girl?”

you cough again.

jaehyun turns around. “hey, johnny,” he calls out. “look who‘s here.”

johnny’s eyes practically sparkle when they land on you. he gets up to join you and jaehyun, smiling while he plays with the rim of his solo cup.

“hey, you made it!”

you laugh nervously. “yeah, i did.”

jaehyun sneaks away to leave you two alone, and you feel incredibly small underneath johnny’s heavy stare. if he notices your squirming, he doesn’t comment on it. you’ve never been left alone with johnny like this and it honestly has your heart racing. seeing him up close like this — you can feel wetness pool in your underwear.

“i noticed you come to most of our games,” he comments. you still refuse to meet his eyes. “starting to think you have a crush on jaehyun or something.”

you laugh. “jaehyun’s cute, but not my type.”

johnny raises an eyebrow. “really? what’s your type then?”

you finally stare back at him, and the smirk is evident on his face. you decide to be bold and voice your inner thoughts.

“take a guess. i wonder why a girl like me would go to every single one of the school’s volleyball games.”

your whole body is on fire and johnny hasn’t even done anything to you yet. the weight of his stare is boring into you, goosebumps rising on your arms. you desperately want to touch him but you can’t do it here. not in front of everybody.

he takes a step closer to you, and your breath hitches. he places his cup on the kitchen counter so he can wrap his arm around your waist. you gulp and lay your hand on his chest as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“you’re not as good as you seem, are you baby?”

you blink, your eyes wandering around the room to see if anyone’s looking at you. everyone seems to be in their own little bubble — paying no regard to how johnny holds you. johnny doesn’t seem to care about anyone else, his grip tightening on you.

“answer me, baby.”

“um, i- i mean, i-“

he chuckles at your stuttering. “why don’t we go somewhere more quiet? that way i can hear you better.”

and you nod, letting him lead you to one of the spare bedrooms in the house. he shuts the door so you two have complete privacy. you awkwardly take a seat on the bed and johnny joins you, giving you a small smile.

“this is better. i’ve been waiting to talk with you alone for a long time now.”

“is that so?” you murmur, twitching nervously as he inches closer to you.

“need to tell me what you like, baby. i don’t wanna cross any boundaries.”

you take the leap. johnny’s surprised when you climb into his lap, pressing your mouth down on his. he groans and wraps his arm around your waist, holding you steady as you kiss him passionately. you break apart to whisper your desires.

“need you, daddy. i think about you all the time.” johnny practically growls at your confession, and you egg him on further. “come to those games just to see you. i imagine you taking me on the court for everyone to see.”

“fuck, baby,” he hisses. he flips you over so that he has you pinned underneath him. you squeak when you land on the pillows. “you’re just a filthy slut, aren’t you? little innocent schoolgirl just needs a big cock to make her feel better, doesn’t she?”

you whimper and nod. “need your big cock, daddy. need you to stretch out my tight hole.”

johnny makes an incoherent noise, his fingers coming up to lift up your shirt. “fuck,” he mutters, eyeing the lacy white bra you’re wearing. “you’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

he pulls down your bra to envelop his mouth on your breast and you moan, arching at his touch. his tongue circles your nipple and you shudder. he pulls away after giving a few more licks and tugs, returning to kissing you.

his fingers glide over the expanse of your thighs and you’re grateful that you opted into wearing a skirt today. it gives johnny easy access to your underwear as he runs a finger over your clothed slit. you whine and buck your hips up, begging to be touched.

“so impatient,” he hums. “been waiting a long time for me, haven’t you?”

you frantically nod. “so long, daddy.”

he smirks. “do you think about me when you’re wet, baby? finger yourself to the thought of me?”

“i always think of you, daddy. but my fingers are never enough. i think you would do a lot better.”

he grins. “let’s see.”

he pulls your underwear to the side and plays with your folds gently. you moan at his touch and he leans down to press another kiss to your lips. when he slides a finger inside your entrance, you cry against him.

“so tight, baby,” he whispers. “can barely fit my finger inside. wonder if you can take my cock.”

“i can take it, i can take it,” you quickly assure. he laughs breathily at you before pushing another finger inside, stretching out your weeping pussy. it isn’t long before he’s scissoring you, watching as your face contorts into pleasure. he fingers you for a while longer before he can’t take it anymore.

“need to eat you out, baby. you look too good,” he says, retracting his fingers and moving down the bed. he wastes no time in delving into your pussy and in the midst of his frantic state, he rips your underwear in half.

“johnny!”

he chuckles, taking a lick up your slit. “sorry, baby. got carried away.”

you completely forget about it as he sucks at your folds, his tongue greedily lapping up your juices. he eats you out so sweetly, being gentle and cautious with you while also bringing you enormous pleasure. you climax in no time, back arching as you fall apart around his tongue. you cry when the oversensitivity becomes too much and johnny pulls away. you watch with lust filled eyes as your juices drip down his chin.

he sits up and unbuckles his jeans, pulling them down and exposing his hard cock. you eyes widen at how big his length is. he’s fucking massive and you can already feel the burn in your throat at the thought of taking him.

johnny can sense what you’re thinking, running his hand up and down his shaft while you watch.

“look at how hard i am for you, baby. you always do this to me. i get so fucking hard watching you walk around in these short skirts, acting like you’re the most innocent girl. you don’t know how many times i’ve wanted to flip up your skirt and pound you until you’re crying.”

you sob. “please, daddy. want it so badly.”

he quickly flips you over, smacking your ass and watching the way your skirt bounces at the movement. you cry as he shoves your face down into the pillows, ass high up in the air. he runs the tip of his cock over your entrance and you practically salivate at the thought of taking him fully.

“want me, baby?”

“yes yes,” you blubber. “want daddy’s big cock.”

when he finally pushes into you, you whimper at the pain. he’s bigger than you imagined, and you can tell johnny’s struggling to fit inside you. “relax for me, baby,” he murmurs. “so fucking tight. what a sweet pussy.” he continues to stretch you out with his cock, and you can feel every ridge and vein digging into your walls.

“daddy, daddy,” you repeat when he bottoms out. johnny groans at the feeling, letting you get adjusted to his girth.

after the pain subsides into pleasure, you desperately buck your hips back into him.

“ready to take daddy’s cock, baby?”

“fuck me, daddy,” you beg.

he wastes no time and starts pounding into you. he wraps his fingers around your hair and pulls, making you cry at the pain. you scream as he slams into you over and over, reaching your sweet spot and sending you to cloud nine. you don’t care who hears you at this point, and you want everyone to know how well you’re taking johnny’s cock.

“feels so fucking good,” he growls, one hand digging into your hip to gain leverage on you. “pussy was made for my cock, baby.”

you can barely form a coherent sentence, babbling and chanting daddy back to him. johnny lifts you up so that your back is against his chest, and he eagerly fucks up into you while watching your expression. you imagine you look absolutely filthy — mouth wide open and eyes rolled back. he pinches your clit and you whimper.

“gonna cum for daddy, baby? gonna let everyone know how you take daddy’s big cock?” he hisses in your ear. he licks at the shell of your ear and continues whispering dirty things. “pussy’s so nice and wet for me. squeeze my cock so nicely, baby. you’ve been waiting for daddy’s big load for a long time, haven’t you?”

“y-y-yes, daddy,” you reply.

you don’t even register your orgasm until it’s finished, going limp in johnny’s arms. you’re dizzy and incoherent, but you can hear johnny speak to you.

“didn’t know you were a squirter, baby.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you glance down at the sheets, completely soaked in your juices. you’ve never squirted before, and johnny can sense what’s on your mind. he still hasn’t cum yet, and his assault on your pussy is relentless as he bucks into you.

your fingers dig into his arm when the oversensitivity hits you.

“can you do it again?” he grunts. “wanna see you make a pretty little mess for me.”

the bed is flooded with your juices by the end of the night as johnny is determined to watch you fall apart over and over again on his cock.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part 3 (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

AN- Thank you for the patience for this one! My little boy has been unwell so it has taken a little longer than I had hoped but here is the third instalment! It’s a little shorter than the others but that’s because I wanted to contain the angsty part in one chapter, the next ones will hopefully be longer..

This one is a little more angsty, a lot more emotional, but I’m quite happy with the outcome and I hope you are too! As usual, please let me know any thoughts/feedback! And enjoy!

Word Count: 2510

"Is it just me that finds Stephen Fry a bit.. sexy?" You spoke, watching the television as Young Ones' Scumbag College competed on University Challenge. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just.. got such a lovely voice, and he's so sodding clever and his CLOTHES- got much better looking with age, mind." Mycroft only hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Hmm.. He's not really my type." You laughed and petted his head fondly.

"You don't have to be gay to find another man attractive Myc." You mused. "Me and Greg talk about it all the time, though he fancies Hugh Laurie more, especially in Blackadder." You laughed, thinking back on the memory of Greg's fondness of George in the Blackadder Goes Forth series.

"I'm aware that sexuality and attraction are not the same, Y/N. I am comfortable enough in my own heterosexuality to appreciate another man's features. In fact, I very much agree with Gregory's view on Mr Laurie. Stephen, however, is not my type. The few people that did speak to me in University used to tell me I reminded them of him in the way I behaved but, and I quote, 'without even a lick of his humour, you miserable bastard.' Thus, I cannot look at him in that way." He laughed a little and you cleared your throat.

"Oh.. uh, yeah I guess that makes sense. Not the humour part though, you're actually hilarious and they missed out big time." You tried to avoid the point where you'd deemed Stephen Fry sexy in every way he was similar to the man who was laying in your lap, and just hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"He definitely got the looks side of things though, particularly as General Melchett in Goes Forth, though I am not particularly fond of the facial hair." He screwed up his nose in distaste, you fighting every ounce of your control to not say he looked a bit cute. "And certainly didn't have the waistline that 21 year old Mycroft had."

"Speaking in the third person now, are we? Well, Mycroft, Y/N is comfortable enough in her friendship that Y/N thinks Mycroft can be sexy in his own ways too." You teased, partly embarrassed, but equally just trying any way to improve the man's confidence, even by a little. Mycroft choked a little on his own saliva and had to sit up to regain his own breath. Too far? "Sorry." He shook his head 'no' but didn't speak. In his moments of regaining his composure, Mycroft watched you. Processed in his head what you had said- 'was it a joke?', he couldn't read anything on you that would suggest that, though his eyes were glassy from the choking- watched as you panicked, then subsiding the panic to concern as you made sure he was okay. All these things, he thought, he didn't deserve. He took a deep breath and reached for the television remote, pausing the show and settling back on the other side of the sofa. It had to be done now. Done while his brain was allowing it, before he got attached... before he got attached even more. He couldn't keep pretending it was okay, keep accepting your compliments and your kindness, couldn't allow himself to go any further in his.. attraction?

It was always unspoken between the two of you- your not so subtle hints to Mycroft over the last few years hadn't got unnoticed, Mycroft would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt the same way, though this was perhaps the most open you had been; he would always put it off, try to think of reasons why you shouldn't be more than whatever you are now- most of the time it circles back to work, your busy schedule at the Yard and his unpredictable working hours mostly, saying to himself that it would simply be pointless, that you wouldn't see each other. But he knew that was a lie- you see him as often as you can, even if it's just for an hour on lunch, and everyone knows he would do his best to move empires to have you over for dinner had it been a while, quite literally actually.

Then there was age, you were in your mid-to-late twenties, he in his forties, though that argument also fell flat after you had mentioned your last long term relationship had been with a man your elder, amongst many of your interests in celebrity males that you had mentioned being closer to his age than yours- and, on his behalf, it was usual for a Politician to walk into formal dinners with a younger woman on arm. In the end, it all went back to the real reason Mycroft put everything off, a reason he hated admitting to even himself. Mycroft was scared.

Having been the age he is with no sexual experience, no previous relationships, and not even many friendships, he was terrified he would humiliate himself and you would leave him completely. You were both adults, both clever, you both knew there was always 'something' there, but without you ever acting upon it, Mycroft decided to live his life keeping you as a friend rather than risk not having you at all. He felt guilty enough having you here anyway. He couldn't allow you to keep stroking his hair like that, or letting you sleep in his bed with him, hold him as he snored, when it was for completely other desires in his own mind, not without speaking to you. No, that wouldn't be fair- even if he didn't fully understand everything himself and was still incredibly scared. You needed to know the truth, about everything, and, if there were the slightest chance you'd forgive him, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't put it off anymore, he wanted you to carry on doing those things, wanted to continue the nights you would stay in his bed. But Mycroft wanted it to change, he wanted to be able to start the night with a ghost of his hand on your hip, without waiting until you were asleep to bring himself to have that courage, to wake up next to you and not feel the awkward need to move so soon, just to stay a little longer. Christ, Mycroft wanted every cliché in the book with you, and it took him until yesterday to realise how much he wanted that, after nearly losing you. And he needed you to know, even if it risked it all.

"Y/N I-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I took it too far I was just messing about.. Not that I didn't mean it, I wasn't joking about you.. You are very attractive, but it was inappropriate.. I shouldn't have said it.. I just wanted to help.. though I don't think it did, might have made it worse, actually.. Didn't want to say anything and let you find out.. like that.. not that it matters.. because I AM happy JUST being your friend, over the moon, actually.. so I don't want you to think I ruined that... Because I know you don't feel.. like that.. and you're not saying anything which is scaring me a little because you're always talking.. Not that I don't like that.. I love you talking to me, you've got a lovely voice.. and.. and I'm going to shut up again.. sorry.. again.." You rambled, a lot, too much.. far too much. Mycroft tried to process everything, his eyes closing at every word. You were making this so much harder for him, admitting everything like that. Mycroft hunched forward in his position and braced his elbows on his knees, index and middle finger of each hand holding the weight of his head by his temples.

"No just.. Just stop talking for a moment." Mycroft snapped, cutting you off as your mouth opened to speak a little, the small jump back made his gaze soften. "Please." He spoke softer, apologetic. "I can't.. talk about that.. not yet. Not until you know.." You went to speak again but his head tilted, eyes containing a rare glaze of vulnerability, trying to stay in contact with your own but constantly dropping back to his lap- a silent plea to stay quiet, be patient and just give him a moment. And you did. Turning your body completely sideways, you crossed your legs on the sofa, hands resting folded in your lap as you encouraged him to continue with a brief nod of your head. "I fear if I don't tell you of yesterday's happenings in this very moment that I never shall, and that is far too selfish, even of me." He took a deep breath in. "But I just.. need a moment. A few, likely, throughout." You nodded your head again.

From there, Mycroft began to explain everything that had happened, told you of his sister, where she had taken him, Sherlock and John, what she spoke about, what she tried to get them to do. His voice cracked every so often, knuckles whitened as his fists clenches, creases formed in his trousers where he squeezed his hand on them, but you listened to every word and stayed silent- eyes welling with small tears. Mycroft spoke of the screen, told you of the snipers that were out there, targeting Ms Hudson and Molly. Your body stiffened as he added Lestrade to the list, feeling your throat tighten a little at the mere thought of losing Greg. Mycroft pressed on, told you about how Eurus tried to make Sherlock choose between him and John, told you how he'd tried to convince Sherlock to just shoot him, how Sherlock refused and threatened to shoot himself. His voice went breathless at the end of that, the idea of losing his brother so easily still fresh in his mind. You loosened your sitting position and leaned over, taking Mycroft's hand in your own and squeezing. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't." He whispered, trying to fold his hand into a fist to escape your embrace. You didn't let go and offered your other hand on his back in support as you watched a stray tear fall down his cheek. "I said don't!" He shouted, moving from your touch and standing up from the sofa, beginning to pace as his face contorted into more pain, another tear following the path of the last. You sat back, watched him, didn't take the anger to heart. "It was my fault! All of it!" He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, moving them after to wipe the droplets from his cheek.

"Myc it's ok-"

"It isn't okay Y/N! No part of any of this is even remotely close to okay!" He stilled now, posture going back rigid as he looked at you, eyes bloodshot and glassy. He told you of his Birthday present to Eurus- five unsupervised minutes with Moriarty- and started his pacing again. "A man died yesterday because of me. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly. They all almost died yesterday. You almost... you almost died yesterday." His breath hitched again, lip softly quivering at the end of his words. You tensed a little and frowned, confused and urging him to elaborate. "They weren't the only people on the screens, not the only ones with a red dot on their heads, Y/N." Gaze avoiding you now, turned completely to face the wall rather than look at you at all- giving him a chance to compose himself, steadying his voice. "I saw you, you were happy, just dancing and making tea, but at any moment you could have... and it would have been my fault. And I know I should have told you yesterday, it was selfish of me using you the way that I have without letting you know everything. You could have been gone before I could tell you everything, before I could explain how I feel about you, and it all came rushing to me the moment I saw your face on that screen. I’m so sorry, for everything, for ignoring everything, for being the reason you almost-" The last thing Mycroft had expected was the feeling of arms around his waist, the feeling of a head resting between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt with tears. You sniffed, holding onto him tighter as you cried into his back.

"It's okay Mycroft." You spoke, voice croaking from tears. "They're okay.. I'm okay. And you're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere." The relief Mycroft felt from your words ran through his body as he slumped a little, left hand holding on to where yours joined on his stomach, his right lifting to his eyes where, in a very rare moment, he allowed himself to weep.

***

Neither of you were too sure on how long you stayed like that, Mycroft being held in your arms as he quietly cried into his hand, you into his back, but it was long enough that your feet were beginning to ache and Mycroft had become silent a short while ago. You attempted to loosen your grip but Mycroft quickly grabbed back at your hands, holding them to him again. You changed your tactic and instead circled round until your hands remained together on his back, you now at his front and you gave him one last squeeze before guiding him backwards to the sofa, taking your place next to him but keeping your arms around him.

"I'm sorry." His voice was broken, quieter than usual. You shook your head and fought the urge to cry again.

"Don't." You spoke, sliding a hand down to hold his own that rested on his thigh. "Don't apologise Myc. You didn't do anything on purpose, you were just trying to be a good person.. a good brother. We're both still alive. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly, they're all fine, and I have no doubt that it was partly due to you that they are still okay- whatever the three of you did in there, it worked, and that's all that matters to me." Mycroft shifted, his eyes finding yours once more, scanning, searching, trying to find anything that showed you were lying, that you didn't trust him anymore, but he couldn't find anything.

"But I-" You placed a hand at the back of his neck and leaned forward slightly, your lips meeting his briefly for a few seconds before pulling back. It wasn't desperate, or longing, or out of lust- it was everything Mycroft needed. Everything that let him know that you weren't going anywhere, that you still wanted to be around him, to be with him. He relaxed but didn't speak, his hand beneath yours just turning to allow your fingers to lace together as he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling softly as you felt his own rest atop yours before falling into a comfortable silence.

[the-widow-sisters]

Let Me Take Care of You

Summary: When Yelena wakes up feeling less than wonderful, she tries to hide it from Natasha. However, Natasha quickly catches on, and Yelena has no choice but to allow her big sister to take care of her.

Word Count: 2798

  There were two certainties in Yelena’s world. The first of which was that sour cream and onion chips were the love of any normal human’s life.

  The second? Yelena Belova absolutely despised being sick.

  The moment she had woken up that morning, she was colder than normal, and she noticed that she just had that cruddy feeling that generally came upon her as she started to get sick. She had actually managed to wake up before Natasha, which was something that she was immensely thankful for.

  She had carefully eased out of the bed, intending to leave Natasha there for a while until she could hopefully contain her sickness. She knew precisely how Natasha would likely react, and she was hoping to put off that reaction for a while. After all, Natasha freaked out anytime that Yelena was even remotely injured, so Yelena could naturally imagine her precise reaction to sickness.

  She had thrown on sweatpants and one of Natasha’s hoodies. She knew that this attire would likely give herself away, but she was a little cold and she had to at least somewhat comfortably be able to exist with this chill.

  She was starting to rummage through the cabinets for something good to eat that would hopefully make her feel better when she heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. She winced, really dreading the conversation that was no doubt about to ensue.

  “Good morning,” Natasha greeted, coming up beside her and bumping her shoulder slightly with her own. She reached for a mug in the cabinet, withdrawing a cup and filling it with coffee.

  “Morning,” Yelena replied, hoping and praying that she sounded at least halfway normal and not like the sick person that she knew she was.

  Unfortunately, Natasha seemed to catch on quickly, because her gaze lingered as she passed Yelena and sat her mug on the kitchen table after getting a sip of it.

  “Are you okay? You never wake up this early,” Natasha pointed out, and Yelena just kept looking through the cabinets, not wanting to answer but knowing she had to think of something rather quickly.

  “Yeah, I just happened to get up early today. I don’t know,” Yelena shrugged, trying to look more casual than she actually felt. She could feel Natasha’s stare on her back.

  “Why are you wearing a hoodie and sweatpants?” Natasha questioned, and Yelena chuckled a little, knowing she had been caught but refusing to admit it.

  “Someone woke up and chose suspicion… It was cold earlier this morning,” Yelena informed her, hoping that Natasha had not woken up when Yelena got out of the bed. If she had not, then she would not know just how early Yelena had awoken.

  “You’re never cold unless it’s like forty-something degrees outside. What’s going on?” Natasha asked, her voice more insistent, and Yelena shook her head, glancing back in Natasha’s direction.

  “Natashka, please. I am fine,” Yelena assured her, halfheartedly waving away Natasha’s concern. She was fine despite the fact that she did not feel so good and was a little bit chilly at the moment. Natasha was simply overreacting.

  Yelena suddenly heard swift footsteps approaching her from behind. Yelena furrowed her brow, looking behind her, and she suddenly found her sister standing close to her and almost pinning her between her body and the counter. Yelena just looked at her as if she lost her mind, and Natasha reached her hand out to grab the back of Yelena’s neck and pull her head against the redhead’s lips. Natasha gently kissed her forehead, and Yelena closed her eyes, enjoying the affection despite her suspicion that it was for reasons more than just wanting to show love.

  “You have a fever,” Natasha acknowledged, speaking against Yelena’s skin, and Yelena groaned, moving her head away from Natasha.

  “Do not be ridiculous,” Yelena replied, resuming her rummaging through the cabinets. She pursed her lips, aggravated with not finding any food there. She then moved to the refrigerator, opening it. As soon as the cold air came flushing out, she immediately shivered.

  The moment that it happened, she knew that she should not have let that reaction show. She was not naïve enough to think that Natasha had not noticed, but she was certainly hoping she had not.

  However, as soon as she felt warm arms pull her into an even warmer body, she knew the redhead had seen it. She almost whined as she realized that her skin hurt. She desperately wanted the contact that her sister was offering since she was indeed not feeling well, but the pain radiating where her clothes were brushing against her skin was less than pleasant.

  “My skin hurts,” Yelena murmured a little, reciprocating Natasha’s embrace. Natasha immediately loosened her hold and started to let go of her. Yelena just clung onto her more tightly, and Natasha returned the hug hesitantly, her arms much gentler than before.

  “Why don’t you go get into bed?” Natasha asked softly, and Yelena shook her head, feeling a wave of irrational irritation wash over her. She did not need to go to bed, and she was perfectly fine.

  “I am not that sick,” Yelena informed her, her tone miffed as she pulled away from Natasha a little, a wave of pain washing over her from the shifting of her clothes. Natasha just quirked an eyebrow, staring at Yelena. Yelena just stubbornly stared back at her.

  However, before she knew it, Natasha surged forward and threw her over her shoulder. Yelena immediately cried out in indignation as Natasha repositioned her slightly with a grunt. She then started to haul her across the house. Yelena immediately contemplated pulling a countermove to reground herself on the floor where she should have been, but she did not particularly have the energy to, so she settled for just yelling at Natasha.

  “Hey! Put me down! Don’t I get a say in this?!” Yelena demanded, her accent growing thicker as she grew more incensed. Natasha just shook her head, patting Yelena’s leg gently from where her hand was locked around it.

  “No. So you might as well just get comfortable,” Natasha replied, a steeliness in her voice that Yelena honestly did not really feel like challenging as she usually would have. Yelena just grumbled under her breath and tried to ignore how she liked being carried by her big sister and how it made her feel safe.

  Natasha started to cross through the doorway to her bedroom and Yelena threw her hands out, grabbing onto the doorway with only a partial grip. Natasha paused for a moment before yanking at her hard and successfully dislodging Yelena’s hold.

  Yelena just sighed in resignation, looking around the redhead’s room and the space that was so intensely populated by everything Natasha. She had to admit that it brought a strangely significant amount of comfort to her.

  She was swiftly pulled away from this train of thought when she was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. She blinked in surprise before narrowing her eyes in a glare. Natasha just raised an eyebrow and just watched her as if she were just daring her to try to get off of the bed. If the mattress was not so comfortable and it did not smell so much like Natasha, she might have tried to give a little bit of a fight.

  Yelena quickly felt another chill run through her as the coolness of the blankets seeped through her clothes. She crossed her arms, trying to avoid the shivers that were threatening to overtake her. Natasha bent down so she could hover over Yelena and press her forehead against the blonde’s. Yelena closed her eyes, enjoying the contact.

  “Stay here,” Natasha told her in a manner that was more of a command than anything, and Yelena groaned, reopening her eyes. Natasha eyed her fondly before getting up and heading into the other room. Yelena frowned, realizing that she was even colder than before, and she curled into a ball.

  After a moment of trying to collect warmth from that position, she finally managed to get enough motivation to crawl underneath the covers. She submerged herself so deeply into them that only her nose and eyes were poking out when she was through, and she somewhat painfully noted that the blankets did nothing good for her pained skin.

  For a while, she impatiently waited on Natasha, her mind wondering what in the world could be taking Natasha so long. She aggravatedly stared at the door wishing that by willpower alone, she could drag her sister inside the room with her.

  While Yelena would definitely deny it if asked— after all, she was not that sick yet— she definitely did not feel good at all and wanted Natasha there to just snuggle with her and keep her warm.

  At some point, Yelena must have dozed off, because she suddenly opened her eyes and realized that Natasha was leaning over her, looking terribly concerned. Yelena also realized that she felt even colder, and she balled in on herself, trying to curl up more tightly.

  “No, no, no, come on, sweet girl. I know you’re cold, but we have to get this fever down,” Natasha explained, and Yelena furrowed her brow, not liking the guilty tone Natasha was carrying in her voice.

  Natasha peeled the covers off of her and Yelena immediately clung to herself tighter, trying to shield her body from the cold.

  “Rooskaya, come on, we’ve got to change your clothes into something cooler,” Natasha explained, and Yelena just opened her eyes barely to glare at her in the middle of her freezing fest. Natasha had a tank top in her hands and shorts, and Yelena’s eyes widened as she realized precisely what getting the fever down entailed.

  “Have you lost your mind?! I’m not wearing that! It is like tundra in here!” Yelena proclaimed somewhat hysterically, sputtering as her teeth chattered. Natasha shook her head, regret and pain in her gaze.

  “Yelena, please. It’s the least drastic way to try to get rid of the fever,” Natasha told her, and Yelena shook her head, definitely not wanting to do it. Natasha sighed deeply before carefully yet forcefully pulling off Yelena’s hoodie. Yelena almost whimpered in protest as she removed it and as soon as the cold air hit her bra-clad torso, she yelped.

  She immediately felt Natasha’s warm hand against the skin of her back in a comforting touch, and Natasha quickly pulled Yelena’s sweatpants away. Yelena whined, and she could not even curse herself for sounding so pathetic because of the intense chill that was washing over her.

  “Okay, raise your arms,” Natasha gently told her, and Yelena painedly followed her sister’s instructions, hating the way that the cold penetrated the undersides of her arms as she lifted. Natasha slid the tank top over her and quickly took her ankle, pulling her over so that she could start sliding the shorts on.

  Once Natasha had helped her into the new outfit, Yelena was shivering uncontrollably. She was extremely thankful as soon as Natasha slid onto the bed next to her. She quickly scooted over next to Natasha, grabbing onto her tightly and trying to tuck herself against the heat source.

  “Let’s get under the blankets,” Yelena pleaded, and Natasha shook her head.

  “You’ve got to cool down first,” Natasha answered, and Yelena could hear the guilt and pure sorrow in the older woman’s voice. Natasha wrapped her arms around Yelena more fully, and Yelena pressed her head into Natasha’s neck, trying to shield herself from the freezing air surrounding them.

  She must have fallen asleep yet again because the next thing that she knew, she was being wiped down with an extremely cold washcloth that felt like it had ice in it. She scrunched her nose at the feeling and tried to pull back from Natasha’s ministrations. However, she did notice that she was not as cold as before despite the fact that her skin was still somewhat sore and the washcloth itself was freezing.

  “Your fever got worse, and you were out of it for a while. But your fever’s mostly broken now,” Natasha explained gently, and Yelena looked at her sluggishly, the sickness and her nap slowing her reactions down significantly.

  “That is not the only thing broken here,” Yelena indignantly declared, her voice slurring just a bit from her sleep and lacking its usual strength. Natasha glanced up at her with worry in her eyes, and Yelena huffed slightly.

  “You have broken my spirit with your cruelty,” Yelena informed her hoarsely, once again shrinking away from the rag that was drawing nearer to her. Natasha quickly narrowed her eyes, seemingly realizing that Yelena was just being dramatic.

  “How do you feel?” Natasha finally questioned, taking away the rag and holding it in her hands as she eyed the blonde. Yelena groaned, trying to assess her current condition.

  “Ugh… my skin is sore and I’m a little cold but it’s not that bad,” Yelena expressed, and Natasha seemed to accept this answer as she stood up carefully.

  “You think you feel up to eating something?” Natasha asked, her eyes locked onto Yelena’s, and Yelena shrugged with a small nod, figuring that it would be nice to have something in her stomach. Natasha nodded in reply, squeezing Yelena’s knee gently before starting to head out of the room. She paused in the doorway for just a moment, her eyes carefully settled on Yelena’s form, and she finally went out the door.

  After a few moments, Natasha returned with a steaming bowl of soup. Yelena started to reach out for it, but Natasha clicked her tongue in a scold as she sat down on the edge of the bed and faced Yelena, the soup sitting carefully between her legs as she held it in place. Yelena gazed at her quizzically, wondering what Natasha was doing as she stirred the contents of the bowl.

  To her pure surprise, Natasha withdrew a spoonful of the soup and held it out to Yelena. Yelena just stared at her incredulously.

  “I can feed myself, you know,” Yelena informed her, but the look in Natasha’s eyes told Yelena that this was not going to be negotiable. Yelena sighed deeply before opening her mouth and accepting the spoon. Natasha gently took the spoon from her mouth, Yelena’s lips sliding along it to rake any of the food off. Natasha then proceeded to ready another spoonful whenever Yelena was ready.

  As much as Yelena loathed to admit it, it felt really nice to be pampered by her sister. She liked having her independence and freedom, but she also really reveled in the amount of care that Natasha was offering her. It made her feel loved and, most of all, safe.

  “I… I was worried about you,” Natasha admitted very quietly after several minutes of silence and multiple spoons fed to Yelena. Yelena’s eyes immediately snapped to Natasha’s face. Natasha was not looking at her and instead focusing on the soup bowl she had, stirring it as she readied another bit for Yelena to have. Yelena felt her heart melt and the smallest bits of tear prickling at her gaze. She somewhat weakly held out her hand, and Natasha looked up at her before quickly holding the appendage.

  “I’m sorry,” Yelena apologized somewhat thickly, and the weight of the words encompassed not just her sentiment about worrying her older sister, but also the pain in the butt that she had been when she had first gotten home earlier.

  Natasha’s eyes softened and she moved the bowl over to the nightstand nearby. She then crawled forward and placed her elbows on either side of Yelena to support herself. She then kissed Yelena’s cheeks before resting her forehead on Yelena’s shoulder. Her hands came up to gently squeeze the sides of Yelena’s neck affectionately.

  “Don’t be sorry. I love you, and any time you’re not feeling well, I get worried. It’s not your fault,” Natasha expressed, and Yelena let out a deep breath, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of Natasha near her as she raised her arms and wrapped them around Natasha’s waist. Her hold was loose at first, but she quickly tightened her grip and Natasha’s weight dropped onto her. Natasha grunted a little in surprise, but went with it, not questioning it as she just allowed herself to embrace the younger woman more deeply.

  “I love you, too,” Yelena muttered under her breath, and Natasha pressed a kiss to Yelena’s shoulder where her face was currently squished against the blonde. Yelena could not help but allow her entire body to relax, that feeling of safety washing over her.

  She hated being sick, but she could get used to this feeling.

[reidingandwriting]

"Deja Vu"

Word Count: ~2300 words

Ship: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (ex/platonic?), Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Warnings: A curse word or two, slightly OOC moments but it is fan-fiction so :)

A/N: I'm in love with this song and had to write this. Popped this baby out in 3 hours, and I'm pretty happy with it. Side note: I created my own timeline for this lmao. Morgan exists, but they don't live in the cabin. Reader is mentioned to be fem once or twice, but reads neutral besides that! Reader is Tony's kid but it could be read as adopted/his bio kid.

“One strawberry ice cream, just for you.” Peter said as he set the cup down in front of MJ, a single spoon dipped in the light pink dessert. MJ immediately started to eat as Peter took a seat beside her, and you and Ned were seated across from the couple at a local ice cream shop you had discovered. The one where you had taken him, where you had convinced him to try the strawberry ice cream instead of the vanilla he always got. You scooped a spoonful of your rocky road ice cream a little too aggressively, unable to eat your favorite ice cream flavor anymore.

“Thanks, Parker, it’s really good.” MJ said and Peter nudged her shoulder.

“Mind if I steal a bite?’

“Of course I mind.” MJ deadpanned and Peter blanched before MJ smirked at him. “Go ahead, loser. Just one.” MJ gave him a look and Peter saluted.

“Scout’s honor.” Peter took MJ’s spoon before he took a bite, and you barely held back the scowl as you looked over at Ned. He gave you a sympathetic smile and tapped his foot against yours under the safety of the booth. You brushed your shoulder against Ned’s while Peter and MJ were too entranced by each other to notice.

“If you get any ice cream on my jacket, I’m burning yours.” MJ’s words were menacing, but you all knew she was (mostly) kidding. Peter scoffed and held his hand against his chest in mock offense, the sleeves of MJ’s jean jacket comedically too short on Peter’s arms. MJ was dressed in Peter’s Midtown hoodie, the same one you had worn just a few months ago.

You thought it would have been funny to switch jackets, knowing your jacket would look funny on him, while you wore Peter’s oversized hoodie. And now here was MJ, wearing the same sweatshirt, while Peter wore her jacket. Have any original ideas, Parker?

“Earth to Y/N.” MJ waved her hand in your face, and you snapped back to the present. “You okay? You zoned out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, sorry. Morgan decided she wanted a sleepover last night, so we just had to build a pillow fort in my room, and that felt fantastic on my back. Almost as great as her practically laying on top of me all night.” You chuckled. “And you know I couldn’t move her, she’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

“And she knows it.” Peter said and you smiled over at him.

“Speaking of Morgan. She’s been asking me all week about if you want to come over sometime this weekend. She’s in a big Lion King phase, and she wants ‘her Petey’ to come have a pajama party with her and have a sing-along. She’s Nala, of course.” Ned snorted and Peter’s face fell.

“I can’t this weekend. MJ and I are having a Glee watch party this weekend, can you believe she’s never seen Glee?” Peter asked and you felt a pang of jealousy in your stomach.

“Oh, really?” You asked. Much like you hadn’t seen it either, until six months ago. “It’s pretty iconic, but also the worst show ever. Singing along is pretty fun, just being annoying. Really fun.” You thought back to when you and Peter were in your room, doing the same thing.

“Don’t stop believing!” Peter stood on your bed, using the remote as a microphone to serenade you. Peter looked at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes before singing the next line, just as enthusiastically as he did.

“Hold on to the feeling!” Peter cheered and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re so annoying, Parker.”

“As annoying as this show?”

“Almost.”

“Then I’m not quite done yet.”

“Raincheck next weekend, maybe?” Peter asked and you shrugged.

“I’ll have to check with Madame Secretary. She’ll likely be over The Lion King by next weekend, it’ll be ‘baby stuff.’” Your phone buzzed and you excused yourself before checking the text.

Iron Dad: Hey, kid. Are you busy?

You: A little. Why?

Iron Dad: Pep and I have an emergency meeting for work, and Happy’s sick so he can’t watch Maguna

You: I’m on my way. Give me five to say goodbye

Iron Dad: Thanks, Y/N/N. We owe you one

You: You owe me several. Love you

Iron Dad: Love you tons

“I’m sorry, guys, duty calls.” You smiled, albeit a little sadly, at your friends. “I’ll see you Monday at school?”

“We better. We have a project in chemistry due on Monday.” Ned said and you flipped him off.

“Science is my best class, you know I’ve had the project done and Dr. Banner approved since the project was announced in class.” You winked at Ned before waving at MJ and Peter. “See you later, lovebirds.” You internally cringed when ‘lovebirds’ came out more bitter than you intended. With goodbyes exchanged, you left the ice cream parlor, and you bit back the tears you felt beginning to build up. Did he feel it, too? Did he remember that you did that, too? Was he ever going to tell her all the ‘unique’ things Peter’s done were reused, that you had found them first? You wiped at your eyes before you hailed a taxi, and you shoved all your feelings down to be at your best for your little sister.

--

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Morgan barreled down the hall when you stepped out of the elevator, and you barely bent down to catch her in time as she collided with you.

“Morgan, Morgan, Morgan!” You scooped your sister up into your arms and peppered her face with kisses until she was laughing, and your mood immediately lifted at the sound. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“Mom’s at work, Dad’s in his room. He’s leaving us.” Morgan pouted and you copied her expression.

“Oh, no. You’re stuck with me tonight. Too bad I’m not tall enough to reach the juice pops in the freezer.” You gasped. “Oh, wait. I am!” Morgan thrusted her fist into the air with a cheer, and you set her down. “I need to go talk to Dad real quick, then we can do almost whatever you want.” You emphasized the almost, knowing she’d ask for something you definitely shouldn’t do, then argue that you said ‘anything.’ You definitely saw a career in law for her when she got older.

“Kay-kay. I’ll go get coloring books, then we get juice pops?”

“Deal.” You offered your pinky out, and she linked pinkies with yours before she ran off to her room. You shook your head fondly before you walked off to your dad’s room, and you knocked on his door before coming in. “Dad?”

“Hey, kiddo. Come on in, I’m just packing a few things for Pep.” You walked over to the bag your dad had packed, and you began to inspect everything. “Have I been approved?”

“I think I need a hug before giving approval.” You opened your arms and your dad happily pulled you into his chest, and he held you close, as if he could sense your feelings.

“Are you okay? Do I need to stay?” Tony rubbed your back and rocked you gently, and you buried your face deeper into his chest, your eyes watering and you gripped his shirt tighter, a habit you developed when Tony first took you in- you always grabbed onto him like he was your security blanket, and Tony quickly learned there was no use in getting you to let go until you were ready.

“No, I’m okay.” Your voice was muffled but you made no effort to move yet. “Mom needs you.” You paused. “You’ll be back soon, right?”

“Luckily we’re just headed to the New York headquarters. I hope we’re home by midnight, but I’ll tell you when we find out for sure.” You nodded and let go of your dad, and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, and he wiped your tears away with his thumb and the action almost made you cry again. “Ben and Jerry’s and sad movies when I get back, or should I get a few punching bags set up in the gym?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.” Tony nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you patted his arm, telling him he could continue packing. “ Don’t forget Mom’s favorite lipstick. She always keeps one on her, but you can never be too safe.”

“Lifesaver.” Tony said before he went back to packing.

“I should go check on Morgan, let you finish getting packed.” You said and Tony smiled at you, a softness in his eyes reserved solely for you, Morgan, and Pepper.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best big sister?”

“I do my best.” You smile back before leaving. Fingers crossed she hadn’t made a mess already.

--

You laid in bed, scrolling through your camera roll with tears streaming down your cheeks. You pressed play on a video and let out a choked sob as you watched. You and Peter were seated at the piano in the living room, and your fingers moved gracefully across the keys, playing one of your favorite songs that Peter had begged you to play for him. The familiar sounds of Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’ filled your ears, and you sang along as you played. You turned to Peter, nodded at him, and he began to play the same song after you. You hugged him at the end of the song, grinning since he had finally learned it, and you began to play it again, Peter joining you in singing along. Not even that was reserved for you and him anymore, as you had learned recently.

“I didn’t know you played.” You said as MJ took a seat at the piano, Peter seated beside her.

“Oh, I just learned. Peter taught me the one song he knows how to play.” Your heart sank and now Ned was curious.

“What song?” Don’t say it, don’t say it.

“Uptown Girl.” MJ began to play, and you felt your lip begin to tremble. Your song. The one you had taught him. You looked away as Peter quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek after the first chorus, and he whispered something into her ear. You turned to Ned and dove deep into a conversation, refusing to cry in front of them.

You jumped when you heard a knock on your window, and you grabbed the baseball bat you kept by your bed. You would have called for Bucky or Sam, but the pair were off on their own mission. You got out of bed, wiping away your tears, and you walked to the window, bat at the ready. “FRIDAY, who’s getting knocked to next year with my bat?”

“It appears Peter Parker is the one outside your window.” Peter? Of course it was.

“Lights on dim, FRI.” You set the bat down and opened the window, and Peter popped into view. “Peter? What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack, dude.”

“I’m sorry, I know, sorry. I didn’t plan on coming out here, but I needed to talk to you.” You gestured for Peter to come in, and you suddenly realized how you had to look to him. You were in a shirt you had stolen from Thor- what? His shirt got mixed up with yours, finders keepers. You were in an old pair of sweatpants that were covered in various stains- paint from Morgan, some grease from Tony’s lab, and a bleach mark from where you and Peter were goofing around in the lab and you spilled some mystery chemical on your pants. And let’s not even talk about your puffy eyes and the tear marks on your cheeks from a night of crying.

“About what?” You sat on your bed, eyes not meeting Peter’s.

“About earlier at the ice cream parlor. You seemed really… spaced out. Not yourself. And I caught you scowling once.”

“I didn’t scowl.” You tried to defend yourself but you sighed, knowing he was right.

“And ever since MJ and I started dating, you’ve just seemed different. You’re not, like, jealous, are you?” And you couldn’t help but laugh. Truly laugh, which caused Peter’s brows to furrow. “What’s so funny?”

“You think I’m jealous! Why should I be jealous?” Peter frowned at how you weren’t taking him seriously, and he was confused.

“You know, we had… a thing. Not that we dated, but I mean, we were really close you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Like a switch, your emotions flipped from sad to frustrated in seconds. “And I’m seeing all these ‘things’ we had all over again.” It was Peter’s turn to start getting irritated, and he crossed his arms.

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Strawberry ice cream at the parlor, you can’t act like we didn’t do that. Trading jackets, we did that shit too. Teaching her piano when I taught you, how do you not get deja vu?” Peter opened his mouth to talk and you held your hand up. “You’ve got a different girl, but there’s nothing new. I discovered those places you take her, I showed you Glee, I taught you the jokes that you tell to her. When are you gonna tell her? She thinks it’s special, but it’s all reused. I know I get deja vu, don’t you?” You had started to cry again, and Peter started to defend himself until FRIDAY spoke.

“Y/N, your father and mother have returned home. You may want to continue this conversation later.” You looked at Peter who wordlessly nodded. He walked to the window, and he paused before he spoke.

“We’ll talk Monday after patrol. Bye, Y/N/N.” You whispered goodbye before he left and you shut the window before you dropped to your knees, letting out broken sobs.

“I get deja vu when she’s with you…”