#these photo choices made more sense in my head than they probably do on here oops sorry

[oc-place]

"I'll be there for you, no matter what you're going through I'll be there with you, anytime that you need me to"

Nyx Hopper & Jen Brooks (for @jennathearcher)

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

[dreamingofbucky]

IS IT TOO LATE?

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: He casted you back to your universe. But now he's back and you don't know why. you thought he hated you for the longest time. But that's furthest from the truth.

tags/content warnings: very much angst. heart strings will be pulled at. consensual smut. p in v. love confessions. soft!miguel. fangs are used for pleasure. begging. size kink. praise, like tons of it. mig and reader healing themselves together.

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

author’s note: not beta read. mild midnight miguel thots. more angst though with a very happy ending. idk i was in my feelings lol

You could sense him close to you. You always did, even despite your spider senses.

It was like he’s infected himself into you even years later, unable to get him out of your system.  

You were in your kitchen, putting away some dishes when you got the feeling of him being near. It was like a prickle at your neck that grew and grew until every hair on your body rose. You whipped your head around the kitchen and narrowed your eyes to find him. You couldn’t though, he was always good at hiding himself. 

“Miguel?” Your voice drifted throughout your apartment. It fell flat though and a sigh wringed out of your throat once you realized he wasn’t there anymore. 

But then your spine stiffened to its own accord and you whipped your head this time toward the hallway. You grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands before you made your way. You weren’t on guard, but you kept the towel on your shoulder just in case. Your spider strength would probably work just fine, but you didn’t know what he’d want. 

“Miguel? I know you’re here, somewhere,” you called out again with more tenacity in your voice. 

There was a creak in the living room and you increased your pace until you were at the entrance, flicking on the light that flooded the room. He wasn’t hiding. He was in the corner, staring at a photo on top of your fireplace. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, fingers reaching for the towel on your shoulder. 

His broad shoulders slumped for a moment before he finally turned. He was in his blue and red suit, the one you knew very well. He looked better than the last time you saw him. His face though, was contorted in an expression you couldn’t read. 

“I–uh, I’m not sure why I came,” he finally mumbles. 

You take a step forward and tread lightly. It’s been four years, so you really didn’t know why he came. This was his decision anyway, to leave you and keep you at a distance. 

“It’s been years,” you remind him. He finally turns completely and his brown eyes gleam red a little and then fade back to the rich color you once loved. 

The man you once swore you loved forever, until he didn’t. Your heart tugged at the memories of what you and Miguel had. Attempting to push those thoughts away to keep yourself from spiraling like before, you clear your throat. 

He finally replies. “I had to see you.” 

No reason. Nothing else. Just those five words. 

You take another step forward and he does too.

“You can’t just come here without an explanation,” you pushed. Your irritation was starting to increase and your patience was starting to thin for your ex. 

Miguel is quiet as he stays grounded. But your senses heightened when he lifted his hand and turned his wrist toward you. Before you could react in time, a bright orangish red web shot out of his wrist and latched onto your chest. You grunt as he pulls you into him, closing the distance. You grab the string of the web and pull it off your shirt, but it's stuck. 

“Miguel,” you bite. A smile curls at his lips before a talon comes out of his pointer finger and he snips the web. 

“Sorry,” he breathes. 

“You’re here, because?” You press again. Your heart was hammering against your chest and you were hoping he’d tell you what he needed you for.

“Spider Society misses you.” 

Oh. You weren’t expecting that. 

“I’m sure they do,” you quip. 

It wasn’t your choice to leave them. To go back to your universe and live out your days. It was Miguel who pushed you to this point. 

You even got engaged two years ago to who you thought you could live the rest of your days with. And then things took a turn. Things didn’t work out. He felt like you were stunted by him in this universe. Although you still did your best to be the Spider-Woman your universe needed, it wasn’t enough. 

It was like the action of Miguel casting you out back to your universe made you lose your spark. Made you less of who you were meant to be. 

You hate him for it. Well, you did the first year before you started to make a life for yourself here. It didn’t work out, obviously. 

The thing was, you never really understood why Miguel did what he did. It was so quick, so sudden, casting you out. You thought you were doing well in Spider Society. You made friends, you aced missions. So what did you do wrong? You even loved him to your best ability. 

Was it because you couldn’t put universes first before anyone else in your life? Miguel was so bent up on the idea that sacrifices had to be made when it came to being Spider-Man. Guess that included you. 

You were a sacrifice he had to make for a reason you still didn’t know. 

“Just wanted to check in, see how you were,” he says in an almost whisper. He drops his gaze to your lips and you gulp. No, you couldn’t feel like this for him. Not anymore. 

You lift your hand and press your palm to his chest. He looks at it before his brows furrow. His hand then reaches over and caresses yours. His fingers fiddle with your ring finger. 

“Your ring, what happened? Where is it?” 

You sigh, attempting to turn on your heel and get away from him but his fingers move to your wrist to keep you there. You knew he’d know about you getting engaged. You got your spider senses alerted whenever he was near the first two years you were gone. You knew he was checking up on you frequently. Until he stopped. He didn’t know the engagement was broken off and you lived alone in that small apartment. 

“Miguel, let me go.”

He doesn’t budge, so you press your other palm against his chest for leverage but he doesn’t move an inch. Your emotions are getting heightened from it all and you can feel tears start to spring into your eyes. You feel pathetic. 

“What happened?” He repeats, his eyes turning soft and curious. 

“Nothing happened. You happy?” 

“No–” he shakes his head. “Tell me.” 

You sigh, not wanting to fight with him. You had years of it when he started becoming too focused on stopping Spider people from disrupting their canon events. Those fights ended up pushing you both to a point that couldn’t be turned back around. 

“Miguel, I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a long day. It’s late.” 

“Dime qué pasó,” he almost pleads. 

Well, if it made him let you go then you had no other choice. You took a deep breath and stared at him. You needed him to know what he did and how it resulted with you no longer having an engagement ring. 

“He left me, Miguel. Does that make you happy? He saw how much I couldn’t handle being so far away from my people. From my friends. From you. He saw how it ruined my life being stuck here. I tried so hard to fake it until I was happy, but he saw through it all. He loved me so much that he let me go. Unlike someone who casted me out–” 

“I didn’t cast you out because I didn't love you,” he interrupts with a growl. His face leans closer and your core flutters. 

Fuck, your body could still react to him like no time has passed. 

“We were young,” you argue. “That wasn’t love, the longer I had time apart to contemplate it. We were simply infatuated, but that wasn’t love.” 

“It was for me, sabes esto.” 

“No, it wasn’t Miguel,” you bite. 

Miguel is silent, dropping his hand. You take a step back, a deep breath leaving your lips. His own shoulders move softly with his breathing. Some of the strands of hair at the top of his head fall over his temple and forehead. You want to so desperately lift a hand and brush them back in place. But that's not something you can do anymore. 

You take another step back, finding yourself sitting on your couch. You placed your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath. You heard his footsteps follow and he knelt down, placing a finger under your chin and lifted you enough to see him. To look at his eyes that are yearning for you to speak to him. 

“Mira, I lied. They didn’t miss you. I did. I stopped checking in on you to give you space. To move on.” 

You scoff. “You can see how well that worked out.” You lift your naked ring finger to make a point. 

“I needed to see you one last time.” 

This brought you to straighten your spine and look at him with widened eyes. “Last time?” 

He nods. 

“What do you mean, Miguel?” 

He’s silent for a moment. “I’m not going to check in on you ever again. You won’t be bothered by me. I’m taking some space from Spider Society as well. They’re better off anyway.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. He was going to demote himself from the society he created for us? One of the best places you’ve been able to call home for years. You missed it dearly, you couldn’t deny that. 

“You can’t just leave them. They need you.” 

Miguel’s eyes cast down and this time it’s you bringing a hand under his chin and lifting enough for him to look at you. You scoot a little closer to him where your knees brush. A fire burns in your belly. 

“They don’t. I hurt people. I hurt you. I need space and time before I can come back and delegate again. I took things too far.” 

“So you’d rather disappear than try to fix things? Did you ever plan to allow me back to Spider Society?” 

He shakes his head. “I thought you’d be content here with him. You seemed so happy.” 

You laugh. “That wasn’t happy, Miguel. That was coping.”

His thick brows furrow. “No, you were happy.” 

“Are you trying to convince yourself? Are you really trying to control the truth? I wasn’t happy. I thought I could play along with this life to deal with everything. I was in survival mode. It was purely a facade. Imagine being introduced to a safe haven and then being stripped of all access to it and its people. That’s what happened to me. I had no choice but to try to make a life for myself here.” 

Miguel is quiet for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. His forehead wrinkles as he thinks deeply. 

“This would be easier if I hated you.” He finally mutters. 

Now you’re the one raising a brow. “Excuse me?” 

“Call this an atonement,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, but I’m not sure bringing you back would fix things. What happened can’t be undone.” 

“I never asked for you to fix it. I’ve learned how to make this my home. It was a home before I got my Spider abilities and it could be my home after.” 

“But you’re not happy. You just said so yourself,” he counters.

You huff out a breath, exhausted at all of this back and forth. Why was he really here? If he wanted to see you one last time he could’ve done that without making himself known. He could’ve creeped in the shadows to do it. 

“What do you want?” The words are sharp and roll off your tongue like venom. His hands raise and rest on your knees. He’s still kneeling and he scoots closer. A hand travels up your thigh and you suck in a breath. 

“One last time,” he repeats so softly you almost miss it. 

“We already had our one last time,” you say quietly. You remember that last time you felt him near you. That was when you truly thought that was the last time you’d feel him in your universe. 

“No, bebita,” he responds gruffly. “I need you one last time.” 

His words aren’t registering in your brain. 

“You made it very clear you didn’t need me.” 

“Will you let me finish?” His eyes connect with yours and your heart thumps loudly against your chest. 

“Finish then,” you push. 

“It’s easier to hate you because then I could move on. I never did, bebita.” The nickname rolls off his tongue in a way that makes your core flutter and you clench your thighs. 

“I–” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“Casting you out was the worst thing I did. I couldn’t take it back, my pride wouldn’t let me. I loved you so much, but I couldn’t say it. It was always on the tip of my tongue. You were it for me, bebita. It crushed me even more to see you making a life for yourself here. Finding a partner to be with, that was the worst of it. It took me months to deal with that one. But I couldn’t risk losing you to the things we did for the universes we saved. Pushing you away was the hardest thing to do, but the safest. If I didn’t have you to sacrifice in life or death situations, then that's what I had to do. I couldn’t lose you in those ways, I just couldn’t.” 

His confession brings tears to your eyes and you wrap your hands around his neck. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. You take a deep breath and he does too. Soon, your breathing becomes sync with his. 

“You hurt me,” was all you could say. 

“I know, bebita, I know. I’m so sorry. I loved you–I love you so much. It felt like the only way I wouldn’t lose you.” 

“But you ended up losing me anyway in the process,” you remind him. He nods. 

“I lost you anyway. Please forgive me. Or did I come at the wrong time where that’s not possible? Is it too late?” 

You contemplate it for a moment. You hurt for so long with his decision, but now you know why. He did it because he loved you so much. It reminded you of your ex-fiance. He broke things off because he loved you and wanted you to find your true happiness. He knew it wasn’t with him as much as he wanted it to be. 

Funny how it’s the same concept with Miguel, but not quite. Miguel’s way was harsher and broke you. But he’s here now apologizing and on his knees. 

All the feelings of your life with Miguel come back surfacing. The good and the bad. But he was the best thing in your life. 

“And what would we do after this? Would you just leave and never see me again? After everything that’s been said?” 

He grabs your cheeks and pushes you back a little. His face is pained as he thinks of a response. He leans in, kissing your forehead before kissing your nose and then your cheeks. “I don’t know anymore. Lyla asked me the same thing.” 

You smiled softly. “Lyla… I missed her.” 

Miguel smiled as well, tears in his eyes. “She misses you everyday. She might be the reason why I came tonight.”

“I’m glad, then,” you say. This brings another smile to his face and your heart warms. Your whole body warms. 

“Miguel,” you whisper. He leans in again, pressing his lips to your nose. You inhale his scent for a moment. 

“I can’t repair what’s been done.” 

“You can’t,” you concede. “But we can take it day by day.” 

“Really?” He says with a little happier tone. 

You nod. “But you can’t do that again. Don’t push me away. Don’t make me think you hate me. That I was the worst thing in your life.” 

A sob pulls through you and tears cascade down your cheeks. Miguel is quick to brush them away with his thumbs. He finally brushes his lips against yours and you stiffen at the movement. 

“Can I?” He asks softly. 

Instead of answering, you lean in to close the distance. His lips were soft and the memories of kissing him all over filled your senses. Your body still craved him, you just pushed those feelings as down as you could. 

He continues to kiss with passion, like a man starved. His tongue presses against your teeth and you part your mouth, allowing him inside. He groans a little at the feeling and a moan escapes your own lips. 

“Let me make it up to you, por favor,” he asks, moving his hands to your thighs and running them up until they find your hips. You hitch your breath at the feeling and you nod. 

“It won’t make up for all these years, but you can try,” you say with a little spite and a little tease. Something in you wanted him to work for it. You couldn’t just forgive this easily, he had to know how much you hurt all this time. 

“I’ll live the rest of my days making it up to you then, bebita,” he kisses you once more before moving his hands from your hips to your backside. He pulls you hard closer to him before you’re straddling your hips. You squeal from the sudden movement and then he rises. He starts to walk as you continue to kiss, as if he mesmerized the layout of your apartment from his check-ins. This brought another flutter to your core and you needed him in more ways than one. 

He enters your bedroom and plops you on the bed softly. You shift yourself up to the pillows and he climbs the bed alongside you. Your hands come up to his hair, making their home in his strands as he continues to attack you with kisses. He moves his lips to your neck and you moan loudly, bucking your hips up. He groans from the sounds. 

“Bite me,” you plead through breaths. 

“Estás seguro?” he asks, lifting his lips from your neck for a brief second. You push his head back down to your bare skin and nod. 

“Yes, please, Mig. Bite me like you used to. Fuck me like you used to. Make me whole again,” you plead. You can’t help the tears that come back to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. He doesn’t notice though, which you’re grateful for. 

He obliges though, kissing your neck and then you feel something piercing you. His fangs sink into your skin and it feels wet instantly. You moan through it, leaning down to bite his own neck. 

“F-fuck,” he moans once his fangs pull out. He lifts his head to look at you and it’s like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. His eyes light up and then turn into a feral thing you were so used to in the past. 

Miguel knew how to be gentle with you when he could, but you always noticed the way his eyes would turn red with a primal need to love you until you were thrashing and screaming his name, clenching around him. 

You needed him to go that far. You wanted him to. 

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper finally. 

His eyes search yours before he nods and snakes his hand under your hair and wraps his fingers around the strands until he can pull your neck the other way. He leans in and you feel that pain again as he sinks his fangs into the other side of your neck. Your hips buck up again and you gasp. 

“Smell so good, taste so good,” he murmurs. His lips travel lower, kissing your collarbone. He helps you out of your mundane clothes before you’re lying naked in front of him. With a press of his watch on his wrist, his suit pixelates into nothing until he’s there naked over you. You forgot for a moment his suit does that. 

“Please, Mig,” you say in deep breaths as you feel his erection pressing against your hip. You reach down blindly, feeling for his cock and then caressing it in up and down motions. He groans through this and curses under his breath, jutting his hips further into your hand. 

“Need you,” he pleads. 

“You have me,” you assure him. 

He lifts himself on his knees which causes your hands to fall from his cock. He then begins to stroke himself and you spread your legs around him. His eyes glance down at your core and your cheeks heat. 

“So fucking pretty and wet already for me, bebita. Just like I knew you’d be.” 

You just nod as you stay transfixed on him, rubbing his cock before he positioned himself at your entrance. You didn’t care for him to prep you, you needed him now. 

“It’s going to hurt, tell me to stop if you–” 

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You made a point by reaching down and grabbing his wrist around his cock and aligning yourself with his tip. You pressed his tip against your fold and you both gasped. You shut your eyes briefly at the wonderful sensation. 

He always fucked you so well, that was something you missed. And now he was here, doing just that. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” he grunts as he presses himself into you, inch by inch. 

The pain soared throughout your body with each inch, but you didn’t care. You finally had him again and your cunt clenched around him. He moaned at the movements, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

When he finally pressed into you all the way, you both took deep breaths. He leaned in, pressing his palms into the mattress to support himself. He shifted a little, moving inside you and you whined. 

“So big,” you gasped. 

“You can take it, bebita,” he cooed. “You always did so good for me, you can do it again. Okay?” 

You nod, biting your lip as he moved his hips to slowly pull out of you and then he slammed back in, causing you to shift up on the bed from his strength. He curses under his breath again and you whine at the stretch of him. His girth was bigger than you remembered and you swore he was splitting you in half, but you loved it. 

“More, more,” you begged and he obliged. He snapped his hips back and forth into you, earning a cry from your lips at each thrust. 

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he groans as his hips start to grow sloppy. He was getting closer to his release and you were too. 

Your core tightened and your pussy clenched around his cock in a beautiful way. 

“So close,” you mumbled through his thrust. 

“Come with me, bebita,” he says before leaning down, sinking his fangs into your neck once more. This makes all your sensations come alive and you can’t hold back anymore. Your legs wrap around his waist, causing him to push deeper into you and hitting the best parts. 

“I’m going to–” you screamed before you felt everything explode. You saw stars, your body was shaking, and he was holding onto your tightly. He dropped his head into the crevice of your neck and muttered nonsense as he came right after you. Rope after rope of his cum filled you up and you clenched around him even more, milking his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered as his hips stuttered and he collapsed over you. “Please don’t do that, not gonna last the night.” 

You giggled, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist. You both breathed intensely but you were so fucking happy. 

“I love you, bebita,” he finally says, lifting himself to look at you. He wipes a strand of hair that was stuck on your forehead. You grab his face and kiss him. He moans deeply and his cock twitches inside you. 

You squirm underneath him. “I love you too, Miguel. Always have, always will.”

He kisses you back with more passion. “You mean it?” 

You nod and laugh as he tickles your side. You try to squirm away, but it’s hard with his cock still in you. Your pussy flutters around him again and he groans. “Bebita, that will only make me go for another round.” 

“I know,” you confess with a smile. 

You had years of catching up to do, anyways. You didn’t plan to leave that bed anytime soon. 

Miguel smiled and wrapped his arms around you before flipping you both over. His back plopped on the bed and you were straddling him above, your head laying on his chest. 

“You don’t have to ever forgive me,” he whispers, stroking your bare back. “But I hope you give me the time to make it up to you.” 

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. He cranes his neck to look down at you. 

“It’s not too late,” you finally answer and those words were all he needed to hear.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡SKZ React to Finding Out About Your Piercing In A…Certain Area♡

♡ I couldn't ask for a more unique assortment of requests to be sent my way. I love creating content for you guys. Thank you @lieslovefantasy for the request & I hope you find comfort in it ♡

♡ Pairings: ot8!skz x fem!afab!reader

♡ Genre: fluffy/suggestive

♡ Summary: You're nervous to tell the guy you're dating about your genital piercing, fearful of what he might say, but his actual reaction surprises you...

Warnings: This entire post focuses on genital piercings (nothing graphic or detailed) but if convos about vaginas make you uncomfortable then this isn't the post for you. There's also expression of sexual urges but this contains zero sexual contact ♡

I'm not a pierced gal but, if you're at all curious about it, you can find a guidebook here put together by a pro who's been doing it for ages. Stay safe babes

There's a spicier version here ♡

♡ Han's reaction can only be described as utter confusion. He hears what you're saying but it takes him a minute to process what you actually mean. None of this is because he finds it weird or unattractive that you got pierced. It's just that, up until this conversation, he didn't even know you could do that. He's genuinely fascinated though and, after a minute or so, he's staring at you with this wholesome curiosity in his eyes, like you're some work of art, eager to learn all there is to know about this new detail that makes the girl he's falling for even more interesting than she already is ♡

♡ Seungmin's convinced that you're joking. It's not unusual for you guys to say the most random thing that pops into your head just to see how the other will react so he decides to call your bluff, asking to see it since you really have it. You show him with no hesitation, holding your breath in anticipation of the usual smart ass comment leaving his lips and making you wish you hadn't told him, only it doesn't. Instead of saying something off the wall, he compliments your choice of jewelry and tells you how well it suits you. Yes, it's true that he typically takes great joy in being a pain in the ass about things but when it comes to you and your body he never wants you to question how loved it is by him ♡

♡ Felix senses right away that you're worried sick about how he'll feel. Interlocking his fingers with yours, he plants soft kisses along the back of your hand. He smiles at you, warm and gentle, assuring you that there's nothing you need to be nervous about. While he's absolutely clueless when it comes to piercings like this, it doesn't make him view you any differently than he already did. You're still the same charming, intelligent, funny girl that he has been and will always be obsessed with. Whenever you're comfortable showing it to him he'll be giddy about having the chance to see it. There's no doubt in his mind that he'll find it as beautiful as he does the rest of you ♡

♡ I.N has this friend who's best friends with a girl whose older brother's girlfriend got the same piercing as you which naturally means that, through information passed down to him, he's basically an expert on the topic. One thing though, he heard it doesn't really hurt. Something something about adrenaline. Is that true? How'd it feel? He apologizes, cuddling up to you, figuring you probably don't want to have flashbacks of that part. Either way, adrenaline high or not, he thinks you're so cool for getting it done. It's a decision that takes a lot of courage and knowledge of your identity to get done which he admires. You are, without a doubt, the most badass girl he's ever dated ♡

♡ Hyunjin has actually seen female genital piercings before. An artist friend of his did a photo series on it last summer meant to educate people on the 1001 different reasons that women choose to get them done. For some of them it had cultural or personal significance, for others, it was a spur of the moment decision they made simply because they wanted to do it. Which one is it for you? You don't have to tell him if you aren't ready but, if you choose to, you'll have his undivided attention and he'll cherish every word that leaves your lips the same way he always does. The fact that the two of you have gotten to the point that you feel safe enough to be this vulnerable has him getting low key sentimental ♡

♡ Lee Know isn't trying to be a perv or anything. He just doesn't understand how you could feel nervous about telling him something that's so insanely fucking hot. From what he's learned from 5 minutes of intently scrolling the internet, there's a chance that your piercing would make intimacy far more sensitive for you than it is for the average woman. That mischievous grin on his face says that he's more than willing to help you test it out if you haven't already. You roll your eyes when he throws out the idea that maybe he should get one too. He insists that his pain threshold is more than adequate to make getting it no big deal. After being reminded that it's not a competition, he calms down, his mind drifting back to how much fun it'll be to experiment with yours ♡

♡ Bang Chan admittedly has a hard time switching out of dad mode sometimes, often forgetting that he's with you and not his members. His instinct to make sure you're alright has him asking you how your healing went, how the experience was for you overall, and if there's anything he should or shouldn't do when you're being intimate that way he can make sure you only feel pleasure when the two of you are together. As touching as it is that he cares so much, you're a big girl and you feel safe enough with him to express your needs when they come up. You kiss him, promising him everything's fine but you'll let him know if anything changes, and he snaps out of it. He may be prone to worrying but it's only because you're so crazy important to him ♡

♡ Changbin's hugging you from behind when you tell him and this admission only makes him hug you tighter. He kisses your cute lil cheek and throws out a casual, "Oh...nice." It kind of breaks your brain that he's so unphased by finding this out. In the past when you've told people there's been some sort of reaction but you're pretty sure you'd get a stronger reaction out of him if you asked what he wanted for dinner. You question if that's all he has to say and he just shrugs, feeling that there's nothing else to say. He adores everything about the way that you express yourself externally. From the way you do your makeup and hair to the way you dress, he's always drooling over whatever you do. Anything you add to that wonderful base you have is just a bonus ♡

[euovennia]

widow | CH. II

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: i decided to change up the bar scene at the end of the game because this is my story and i'll do as i please. regardless, the boys are finally here, woo!!! there'll be more interactions between them all next chapter (that's probably gonna be the majority of it tbh) but please enjoy this semi-awkward meeting for now <3

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH. III, CH. IV

Four Years Later

It had been just a few short hours after Ghost had saved Soap from what would have otherwise been a certain death by the hands of Hassan Zyani. The past few weeks were nothing short of grueling but as Ghost, Soap, and Gaz all made their way through the bustling streets of Chicago to meet Price and Laswell at a local dive bar, they couldn’t help but want to give themselves a little pat on the back for a job well done. As well as it could have gone at least, there was still the issue of Grave’s death and Shepherd's betrayal on Los Vaqueros and the 141. Perhaps that would be their next mission.

Finally approaching the dingy bar, the three men began filing inside the bar as they each made a beeline over to Price and Laswell who seemed to be having a rather serious conversation if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. Upon seeing the team approach however, Price simply gave them a small nod before taking a swig of this drink. The boys take their seats before each ordering a drink of their choice. With everyone now settled in, Laswell decides to speak.

“You boys did your job and you did it well. Congratulations,” She raises her glass and the four men follow in succession, a sense of pride and accomplishment lingering in the air. The group sits in silence for a few moments before Gaz breaks it.

“So what now?”

“We find Shepherd,” Price announces firmly.

Laswell sighs, “That’s not what we agreed on.”

Price looks at her out of the corner of his eye, “We never agreed on anything, Laswell.”

“We’ve got bigger issues than just finding Shepherd.”

“I reckon that’s the reason you’ve got other teams then,” He lamely states as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Trust me, this is something you’ll want to be involved in,” She says before reaching inside her jacket pocket and pulling out a photo. She plants it face down on the bar counter before sliding it over to Price.

He stares at the photo for a few seconds before taking the photo in his hands and flipping it over. He sucks in a sharp breath upon seeing the familiar dark-haired man. Lips pressed into a thin line, he passes the photo over to Gaz. He studies the photo for a few moments before his eyes flicker up to Price's tense frame. Not wanting to ask quite yet, he hands it over to Soap who tilts his head in confusion upon holding it in his hands. Finally, he gives it to Ghost who merely diverts his attention back over to Laswell and Price after staring down the photo for a few seconds.

This time it’s Soap who speaks up, “Who’s that?”

Price lets out a sigh as his grip on the glass in front of him gets tighter.

“Ivan Volkov.”

“What's he done,” Gaz questions.

“We’ll get into that later. Right now, I need you four to head back to the safe house.”

Ghost speaks up, “What are you gonna do?”

“I have a contact completing a mission out in France at the moment to get the last bit of info we need to go after Volkov. I’ll be awaiting their call.”

“What if they don't get it?” Soap chimes in.

Price finishes off the rest of his drink.

“I’ve got a feeling that won’t be an issue.”

Paris, France

A woman watches as the man lifelessly falls back onto the ground, a bullet firmly nestled into his forehead as a steady stream of blood begins to ooze out of the wound.

“Hah…And they said I couldn't be a sniper,” A familiar German accent rings out through her comms.

A small smile comes across her face as she focuses her attention back on the laptop screen in front of her.

“You did well, König. Perfect shot as always my dear friend,”

“Just living out my dreams,” He pauses for a moment, “Do you think I would've made a good sniper?”

“You are a good sniper.”

“But they said I was too tall and couldn't sit still,”

“Doesn’t change the fact you have yet to miss a shot while you’re with me,” She responds as she attaches a small black hard drive into the side of the computer, leaning back and watching as various files upload to the drive.

“Why do you have Laswell request me for these missions?”

“So you can live out your dream.”

She pays no mind to the small ‘thank you’ that flows through her comms.

After all the files have been copied onto the drive, she quickly detaches it and stores it in the small tactical sling bag she’d brought with her.

“I’ve got the intel, I’ll meet you down at the entrance.”

“Copy that.”

The woman promptly pushes herself up from the raggedy desk chair and makes her way over to the grey metal door before pushing it open and walking out the small office. She steps over the lifeless bodies of the various guards she’d taken out prior to making her way into the office. She had quickly come to find that it was quite easy to get through the dead man’s so-called security detail but she knew she couldn’t take all the credit. König was rather handy with that sniper of his after all.

Finally approaching the exit door, she pushed her way through it to reveal the sight of König mindlessly kicking pebbles around with his feet.

“Having fun?”

“Just wanted to make sure you got out safe.”

“Well I’m here,” She motions over to the car sitting a few feet away from them, “Go start it up. I’ll be there in a moment, I have to make a quick call.”

He simply nods before walking away. The woman pulls out a small burner phone from the side pocket of her bag and flips it open before typing in a number she knew all too well by now. She waits patiently for a few moments before she hears Laswell’s voice ring out through the phone.

“Shadow?”

“Target has been eliminated and I have the hard drive. K and I are gonna start making our way back to the safe house then we’ll be on our way to transport at dawn.”

“Actually there’s been a change of plans.”

The woman tilts her head, “What kind of changes?”

“You’ll still make your way to the safe house but you won’t be spending the night there. Instead, I want you to go four klicks north. You should end up in an open field. A short plane will come down and get you.”

“I take it we’re not going back to Germany?”

”Affirmative. You’ll be flown into Chicago and dropped at base. From there, you’ll be escorted directly to me.”

“What about König?”

“I’m going to reach out to KorTac and let them know he’s ready for transport once you two arrive at base. He should be reunited with them late tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright. See you then I suppose.” “See you.”

The woman flips the phone closed before walking over to the car and sliding in the driver’s seat upon seeing the passenger side occupied by König.

“Didn’t feel like driving?”

He shakes his head.

“The seat doesn’t extend back far enough…It hurts my knees.”

She gives him a small nod as she begins driving.

“You should have more leg room in the plane.”

“Plane?”

“Yeah. We’re heading to Chicago.”

“Schei��e.”

“I like this one.”

“Yeah? What do you like about it?”

König goes quiet for a moment before speaking once more.

“It’s not too loud and it’s not too quiet. It’s simple.”

The woman mulls over his words for a short while before nodding her head.

“Yeah…It is rather simple isn’t it? Just a man playing the piano.”

“Just a man playing the piano,” König parrots back.

They sit in silence for a few moments before he speaks up once more.

“What song is this again? I know you told me, but I think I blacked out for a bit.”

“Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 by Frédéric Chopin.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He was a Polish composer born in 1810 known primarily for his solo piano pieces. He published his first composition at the age of seven and began performing when he was eight. Even so, he didn’t make his official debut until 1829. People were enthralled by him and so his fame only grew with time. He eventually passed away at the age of thirty-nine on October 30, 1849. His official cause of death isn’t known, but some theorize it was pulmonary tuberculosis.”

König lets out a hum of acknowledgement.

“How do you always know so much about these people?”

Her mind drifts off for a few moments, memories of ballet shoes and leotards flashing in and out of her mind before she eventually shakes her head and lets out a small sigh.

“I like to read about them when I can’t sleep.”

A lie, but he doesn’t know that.

“Hmm…Maybe I should give it a shot.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off by the co-pilot shouting over to them through the opening of the cockpit door.

“We’ve touched down, we’ll be parked shortly!”

She and König spare each other a glance before he’s taking out the earbud she lent him as she quickly wraps the cord over her 7th gen. iPod Nano. Despite the black music player being rather dated, she had found an odd comfort in downloading songs off the internet and storing them onto the small device. It was simple and she’d come to like simple.

True to their word, the plane eventually comes to a complete stop as the pair slung their tactical backpacks on their shoulder with König sporting a hefty duffel hand in his right hand that was filled with various weapons he’d brought with him for the mission. They both stand up from their seats with König having to duck his head due to his massive frame as she goes over and slides the plane door open before beginning her descent down the stairs of the plane with König following right behind her.

Her eyes scan over the layout before eventually landing on Price who was currently walking toward the pair who were now standing still on the tarmac. He eventually comes to a stop in front of the pair as he gives a nod of acknowledgement to König who returns an awkward wave.

Bless him.

Price then turns to Shadow as he offers her a small smile.

“Good to see you again, kid.”

“Likewise, but what exactly are you doing here?”

She watches with increased interest as his smile appears to falter just slightly before speaking, “We’ll get to that in a bit. You’ve still got the phone on you?”

She nods as she places a hand over the small bag, “In here.”

He gives her an approving nod before turning to König, “KorTac won’t be here until late this evening. Something about inclement weather. You can do as you please until then.”

König gives him a firm nod before leaning down to Shadow as he gives her arm a small squeeze, “See you next mission then.”

She returns the small gesture before he stands up straight once more and stalks off toward what she assumes is a quiet place for him to sit back and decompress, she knows missions take a lot out of him.

She turns her attention back to Price who is now holding out two granola bars to her.

“It’s not much, but I figure you haven’t eaten in a good while.”

She takes the small snack from him.

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Laswell’s got some water in her office. You wash those down there,” He states as he begins walking forward with her following beside him.

She rips open the first bar and begins munching on it before speaking, “Am I gonna get any context on what’s happening here or do I have to go in blind?”

Price purses his lips, “I think this is something you should work out with Laswell.”

“Is she finally kicking me to the curb?”

“What? No. Where’d you even get that idea from?”

She takes another bite of her granola bar, “Sooner or later she’ll realize she doesn’t need me anymore and toss me to the side. It happens all the time.”

Price gives her shoulder a firm nudge with his arm as he speaks, “You know I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that.”

She shrugs, “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

The older man releases an exasperated sigh, “You’re a lot darker than I originally thought.”

If only you knew.

She takes one last bite of her first granola bar before tearing open the packaging of the second one as they both approach a door. Price leans forward and pulls the door open and allows her to walk in before taking the lead once more as they weave through the hallways of the building. They eventually come to a stop outside an unmarked door and Price looks down at her.

“Do me a favor and try to hear Laswell out before you make any decisions, okay?”

She narrows her eyes at his words before he pushes the door open and walks inside. Taking a bite of her bar, she follows behind him before coming to a stop by his side as her chewing comes to a halt as she sees Laswell sitting at a circle shaped desk with multiple manila folders sat in front of her. She gulps down her bite of granola as she looks up at Price with a questioning gaze to which he merely gives her a pat on the shoulder before taking a seat beside Laswell. Her eyes dart over to Laswell who simply gestures to the empty seat sitting directly in front of them. Sucking in a small breath, she reluctantly walks over and pulls out the chair before sitting down in it.

She swallows, “What’s this all about?”

Laswell is the one to speak, “The drive. You have it with you, right?”

Upon seeing her outstretched hand, the woman unzips the main compartment of her small bag and grabs the drive before sliding it across the table over to Laswell who picks it up.

“Excellent. Once I get my team to look through this, we should be ready to go ahead.”

“Go ahead on what exactly?”

Laswell looks up at her, “The past four years of your life have been solely dedicated to finding any bit of information you could get me on Volkov and his current whereabouts,” She holds up the drive in her hand, “This will offer us the last piece of the puzzle. We can finally go after him and take him out.”

The woman points a finger at Price.

“Then what’s he here for?”

“His team is going to help you.”

The woman’s hand falls onto the table as her gaze hardens.

“No.”

Laswell sighs, “You don’t have a choice. If I decide I want Price’s team on this mission with you then they’re going on the mission with you, no exceptions.”

“But there’s no need for them to be here. Every piece of information you have on the Red Room is because of me. I don’t like working with teams and you know that.”

“Then what about all the times you’ve worked with König?”

“König is a single person, not a group of four. There’s a difference. Teams only offer more opportunities to fail.” “But they can also offer more opportunities to succeed. Why are you against them anyway? You haven’t even seen them.”

“I don’t want to see them.”

“Well I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t care. Either you work with this team or I pull you from this mission entirely.”

Shadow scoffs, “You can’t do that.” “I have every right to do so and you know it.”

The pair fall into a loud silence before Laswell lets out a soft sigh.

“I know you can do this by yourself, there’s not a single doubt in my mind about that…But I don’t want you to do this by yourself.”

Shadow looks up at her.

“Why not?”

“Because out of every mission you’ve gone on, this is the most dangerous. Ivan Volkov is a dangerous man and the last thing I need is you out there on the field trying to take him out by yourself. I–”

She pauses as she spares a glance to Price out the corner of her eye.

“–We care too much about you to let you do that to yourself.”

Shadow has to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Then send König out there with me, I don’t care! Just don’t stick me with a random team who I know nothing about.”

Laswell shakes her head, “Various members of KorTac will be sent out on missions of their own within the next few days, König is one of them.”

“So that’s it then? Either you stick me in a group with a bunch of random people or I don’t get to go after Volkov at all?”

Laswell nods.

Shadow lets out a humorless laugh, “No offense Las, but you’re a real piece of work.”

Her lips tick up in a small smile, “You’re starting to sound like my wife.”

Shadow goes quiet for a minute before sighing, “You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?”

“Not this time.”

The younger woman seems to bounce a few ideas around her head for a bit before giving a reluctant nod.

“Fine, but if they suck I’m shooting them first chance I get.”

Price offers her a smile, “I’ll hand you the gun.”

“Good. Now that we’re all in agreement, you’re free to go for now. I’ll have my team look through the hard drive to extract any useful information we come across. We’ll meet here again tomorrow at fifteen-hundred hours to go over everything. Does that sound alright?”

“None of this sounds alright, but I’ll be a good little soldier and say yes.”

“Mercenary,” Price corrects.

This time she doesn’t hold back her eye roll.

“Same difference.”

After the short meeting she had with Price and Laswell, Shadow had managed to snag an empty shower long enough for her to scrub away all the dirt and bits of blood that had dried and hardened to her skin. She’d changed out of her kevlar bodysuit and instead opted for some simple leggings and a hoodie with a plain tank top tucked underneath. She didn’t bother switching out her black boots for anything else, they were clean and comfortable enough for her so she didn’t see the need to. Once completely clean and changed, she mindlessly wandered around base for a just over an hour before eventually finding König tucked away in an old conference room as he let old reruns of ‘Modern Family’ play out on a small tv screen just a few feet away from chair he sat in. Not quite wanting to leave him alone, she decided to keep him company.

Seeing as they originally touched down just after twelve pm, that had been more than a few hours ago, considering the sky was now gradually turning into a mix of yellows, oranges, and reds. Not that it felt like it had been that long. She enjoyed spending time with König, whether it be on missions or sitting in an old dusty conference room having hushed conversations where he freely talked her ear off. She didn’t mind though. Despite his sometimes manic and hyper demeanor on the field, she’d come to find he had great difficulty trying to connect with others on a more casual and friendly level, but she and König had spent so much down time together on their missions together that the bond they had formed rather quickly. She was grateful for it.

As much as she enjoyed the time she spent with König, there eventually came a time where one of them would have to depart from the other and this time, it was him. After having received word that his transportation back to KorTac would be landing in ten minutes, he decided it was best to start heading back to the tarmac.

He’d given her a firm hug that was made only slightly awkward due to his massive frame, but she enjoyed it all the same.

“I’ll see you around, Shadow.”

“Until next time, K.”

With König now departed from base, she had taken it upon herself to wander around aimlessly before eventually settling down on a table outside near a building that she could only assume was a training area if the workout gear people wore while filing in and out was anything to go by. She quietly watched everyone from a distance as the soft notes of Debussy’s ‘Claire de Lune’ spilled through the small speakers of her earbuds.

She sat with her legs crossed on the chair and hands clasped in her lap as she watched one soldier narrowly avoid running into a metal pole after being so caught up in whatever app is currently lighting up their phone screen. Her eyes began to drift over to the entrance, but stopped when her ears picked up on the quiet string of footsteps that were growing closer and closer. She whipped her head around, body tense and glare ready, but quickly fell back into her previous semi-relaxed state as she saw Price approaching her with a sandwich and a bottle of water in his hands. She untucked her right leg from its crossed position and used it to push out the spare chair that sat a few feet from hers. She let her leg dangle off the chair she occupied as Price took a seat in the chair and slid the sandwich and water over to her.

“Didn’t see you in the mess hall for dinner, thought you might be hungry.” She gives him a nod of appreciation and removes her earbud before reaching forward, unwrapping the sandwich, and taking a bite. They sit in a comfortable silence as she finishes off the rest of her sandwich and washes it down with the water. She balls up the wrapper and shoves it in the pocket of her hoodie to throw away later. Price looks at her.

“Where have you been all day?”

“Holed up in an old conference room with König. We just watched some TV and talked before he had to go. He left a couple hours ago.”

Price nods as he continues, “How’d you two meet?”

“I met him three years ago when I was doing a mission of my own for Laswell. Apparently he’d been stationed in the same area. I almost shot him until I saw the KorTac emblem on his uniform. He just took that as an opportunity to start throwing punches and yell at me in German,” She responds, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she replays the memory.

“Bloody hell,” He runs a hand over the side of his face in an exasperated motion, “How’d you get yourself outta that?”

“I started yelling back at him in German.”

Price huffs out a laugh, “Sounds about right. I assume you two get on well now though, right?”

She nods, “Yeah, he’s a good guy. Real talented with a sniper too believe it or not.”

“I have a hard time believing a bloke as big as him takes the time to steady up on a sniper rather than ram into everything like a bull.”

She shrugs, “Hasn’t missed a shot so far.”

Price nods as if absorbing the information. He remains quiet for a few moments before speaking up again.

“So…If you can warm up to a man twice your size, surely you can warm up to the idea of working with my team, right?”

She lets out a huff as she looks over to Price.

“No offense, but I want nothing to do with your team.”

“Oh come on, kid. They’re not that bad! A bit on the cheeky side some of them, but they mean well,” He defended.

“Anyone who can work with you long enough to look past that god awful thing on your head shouldn’t be trusted.”

Price’s hands go to touch the edges of his boonie hat.

“It’s a good hat!”

“It’s a disgrace is what it is.”

He huffs out a breath of air as he returns his hands to rest on the table in front of them.

“Unnecessary disrespect to my hat aside, I mean it when I say they’re good people. I’ve fought alongside them and I can firmly say I’d trust any one of those muppets with my life. You’ve just gotta give ‘em a chance.”

She sighs as she fiddles with the crumpled up wrapper in the pocket of her hoodie, “Must’ve put a spell on you if you’re willing to stick your neck out like this for them,” She mumbles.

“No spells, just quality work done by quality men.”

She doesn’t respond.

Price’s lips falter into a frown before he decides to make one last effort.

“Look, I know you’ve gotten used to workin’ alone these past few years save for König and I understand that, but you’ve gotta see where Laswell and I are coming from here. You’ve made yourself one of our most useful assets, not just as an employee, but as a person.” He stops to think about his next words for a few moments before continuing.

“Look, ever since you told us about that emblem you managed to snag off one of those Red Room assassins, the three of us have spent a lot of time together. I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way Laswell and I–” He let out a sigh, trying not to fumble his next words. “–We started to care about you. Probably more than we should’ve,” He pauses, “We just want you to be safe, and we feel the only way to do that this time around is to pair you up with a team. My team. It’s not a punishment or us doubting your abilities, we just wanna keep an eye on you. That’s all it is.”

The woman remains quiet for a while before looking up at Price, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

“I knew you two liked me more than you let on.”

Price rolls his eyes as he leans forward and gives her shoulder a nudge before settling back into a more serious expression.

“Just tell me you’ll at least try to work with them, even if you end up hating all of us by the end of it.”

She lets out a sigh, “I’ll try.”

He smiles at her, “Good, because I’m not sure what I would’ve told Laswell if you said no.”

They share a small laugh and Price stays with her for a while longer before eventually leaving to get some rest, but not before making her promise him that she would also leave to get some rest soon. She refrains herself from rolling her eyes and offers the most disarming smile she could muster before agreeing. While he was able to detect the steady wave of slight annoyance radiating off her, he decided not to pry any further. She was an adult after all and so, he left as he wandered back in the direction of his room.

She watched as the silhouette of the man who had practically saved her from the life she lived before got smaller and smaller the more he walked into the darkness of the night. She tried telling herself it was just to make sure no one snuck up on him despite being within the relatively safe confines of the base, but she knew better. The pit of guilt that had been festering inside of her ever since she did nothing to stop the steam of lies that fell from her lips four years ago seemed to make itself stronger than ever. It was eating her alive.

Shadow takes in a deep breath as she slowly makes her way toward the two before stopping beside Laswell. She stares at the buckle sat in Laswell’s hand before bringing up her right hand and placing her own object on the bed.

Laswell’s chest tightens as she places the metal buckle in her hand beside the one Shadow just brought.

“They’re the same,” Price remarks.

Laswell looks at Shadow, “How do you have that?”

Shadow keeps her eyes concentrated on the tri-colored hourglass emblem that had been burned into her mind for her entire life. A deep pit growing in her stomach, she looks up at the attentive pair.

“It’s the Red Room symbol.”

Price and Laswell spared each other a hesitant glance before turning back to the woman who seemed to be in some sort of trance as her eyes remained glued to the buckle she’d placed on the bed just a few moments ago.

Laswell decided to speak.

“How do you know it’s their symbol?”

Despite feeling herself tense up at the question, Shadow knew she brought this on herself. The moment she set the emblem on the bed, she practically backed herself into a corner and there was nothing she could do about it.

Well, there were a couple things she could do about it.

On one hand she could come clean about her past and potentially get the chance to aid Laswell in her mission to put an end to the Red Room, but there was also the chance she’d get killed, maybe something even worse than death. Neither Price or Laswell knew the full extent of all the things she’d done in her life and she wasn’t too keen on them finding out, much less telling them herself. Who knows what they could do with such information?

On the other hand, she could just try and leg it out of there in hopes of avoiding any further questions. She didn’t completely hate the idea, but she knew it wasn’t worth the trouble that’d come along with doing such a thing.

Having eliminated both of those ideas in the few moments she took to think about them, she knew she had to think of something quick. Nothing that could get her deemed as an immediate threat and imprisoned, but nothing that would raise too many alarms.

She almost cursed herself for revealing the emblem that had been burned into every aspect of her life.

Almost.

She looked up at Laswell, a small sigh falling from her lips as she quickly tried to sort out the story in her head.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

Laswell tilted her head.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not part of the Red Room.”

Laswell narrowed her eyes as she pointed to the emblem.

“Then why do you have that and how do you know it belongs to them?”

She took a few seconds to sort out the last few bits of her fabricated story before beginning to speak.

“I kill people for a living–”

“We know,” Price bluntly states, seemingly not bothered by his rude interruption.

The woman fights back the urge to jab her fist into his injured side and instead opts for a pointed look in his direction before continuing.

“–But I don’t work for the Red Room.”

Laswell’s look of suspicion morphs into one of confusion.

“What? But I was so sure–”

This time it’s Shadow interrupting.

“Just because I don’t work for them doesn’t mean I don’t know of them.”

Laswell’s gaze hardens, “Elaborate.”

“Look, the whole purpose of the Red Room is to produce assassins who can execute any and all targets without getting themselves caught. While the targets can be virtually anyone, it goes without saying that a lot of them are political figures.”Price speaks, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Different people have different political agendas. What may benefit one person may be detrimental to the next. So while one person may hire an assassin to get rid of someone, another person may hire another assassin to ensure the safety of the original target by going after anyone set to kill them. Kind of like a bodyguard.”

“Is this your way of telling us you were employed as one of these bodyguards?”

“Not exactly. I never took work based on politics, I took it based on the paycheck. Whatever the highest bidder wanted, they’d get.”

“And how does this tie in with the Red Room?”

Shadow points over to the emblem, “I managed to snag that off one of Volkov’s girls while trying to protect my target. I hadn’t seen it before so instead of killing her, I knocked her out and took her back with me. I managed to get a few details I think you may be interested in before I eventually had to get rid of her.”

Laswell straightened out her posture as she looked at Shadow with great interest, “What details?”

Time to strike.

“Details you won’t get until you can promise me a few things.”

Laswell scoffs, “You do realize you just admitted you’re an assassin, right? You’re in no position to be making demands of any kind.”

“Normally you’d be correct, but seeing as how you won’t be able to connect me to any crime as little as shoplifting I think your hands are a bit tied at the moment.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?”

Shadow’s gaze settled back on the hourglass shaped emblem that represented all the pain and suffering she’d inflicted on the world.

She hated it.

She hated herself.

She looked back at Laswell, willing herself to be more brave than she felt.

“A part of me always knew there’d be a time where I wanted to get out. I didn’t want anything to hold me back when I got the chance, so I always made sure things were perfect, that no one could ever prove anything.”

Laswell nods before speaking once more, “And why is it you think I can give you an out?”

“You want the Red Room gone and at this point I think I’m your best bet. You lay off me and I’ll help you take it out.”

Shadow watched with bated breath as Laswell and Price exchanged each other looks of apprehension and hesitation. She could only hope she played her part well enough.

After more than a few moments of them staring each other down, Laswell turned back to Shadow with a particular glint in her eye she hadn’t quite seen before.

“Tell me what you have in mind.”

The woman was ripped away from her thoughts by the loud laughter of a man. She whipped her head to the direction it originated from and was met with the backs of two men hunched over what she assumed was a phone. Letting out a small sigh, she grabbed her iPod and water bottle before deciding to stalk off in the direction of the barracks in hopes of finding an empty room she could claim for the night.

The woman tapped her fingers on the glossy surface of the desk she sat at with Price and Laswell the day before as the lively notes of ‘The Blue Danube’ composed by Johann Strauss plays through her earbuds. She’s gotten to the conference room fifteen minutes early and seeing as she now had nothing better to do than wait, she pulled out her trusty iPod and tapped shuffle on her classical playlist. Despite classical being most of what she listened to, she did have a few other playlists containing various other genres such as pop, jazz, hip hop, and rock. She was simply raised listening to classical so that’s what she often favored despite more than a few pieces having been tainted due to the unpleasant memories she’d come to associate them with. Even so, she still managed to enjoy every song she listened to.

As the last few notes of the composition died out in the left earbud currently lodged in her ear, her eyes shot up to the sound of the creaky door to conference room opened to reveal a tall man clad in an all black outfit paired with a skull print balaclava with black warpaint swiped around his eyes. He paused as he caught sight of the woman already sitting at the rounded table while she simply stared him down with a blank expression. He gave a quick glance to the room number printed on the door and upon confirming he was in the right place, he slowly stepped in and closed the door behind him before taking a seat across from the woman. Once settled down he returned her blank stare with one of his own, almost willing her to say something.

But she didn’t.

She simply looked back down at the small black music player in her hand as she scrolled through her list of songs. After a few more moments of silence, she looked up to see the man idly tapping away on his phone.

The two of them settled into a rather tense silence filled with unanswered questions, one that was only broken by the sound of the door creaking open yet again to reveal another tall man who sported a grey cap that had a Union Flag patch sewn into the front of it. Her eyes roamed over his lean frame that was clad in a long sleeved grey shirt paired with khaki cargo pants and black shoes. It faintly reminded her of an old photo Price had shown her of himself. She watched as he grabbed a seat that was one over from the man who arrived just a few minutes prior. After all three of them exchanged silent glances, they directed their attention to their own devices.

Just a few minutes had passed before the door opened once again, this time revealing Price who had a small stack of manila folders in his hands whereas Laswell carried a laptop. Upon seeing their superiors enter the conference room, the three strangers quickly tucked their electronics into their pockets as Price spoke.

“Glad to see you lot are getting on well with each other,” He remarked, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

The three of them avoided making eye contact with each other causing him to shake his head in mild amusement as he handed them each a folder of their own. Upon getting to the empty chair, he spoke.

“Where’s Soap?”

Soap?

Suddenly, the door practically bursts open and a prominent Scottish accent breaks through the room.

“Sorry I’m late, got caught up at the mess hall!”

The woman’s gaze turned to face the direction of the door once more as her eyes landed on a muscular man with a mohawk.

“Settle down Soap. Just take a seat,” Price spoke as he tossed a folder to where the unoccupied seat was. Her eyes followed the man as he quickly walked over to the empty chair and nabbed himself the seat. His eyes settled on the folder in his hands before looking up and facing the woman. Expecting him to redirect his gaze like the other two, she maintained eye contact but was surprised when he offered her a wide smile. She tried to reign in the look of confusion she was sure was apparent on her face before breaking eye contact and opting to stare down at the folder, effectively missing the way the man’s face fell at her actions. Her attention, however, was quickly redirected once Laswell began to speak.

“Task Force 141, meet Shadow. Shadow, meet Task Force 141.”

TAGLIST: (if i missed anyone or it didn't tag you properly, please let me know!)

@deadpoolsluvrr @simonsbluee @scaredknight @swissy23 @niawritesbs @ethanhawkelovers-blog @watermaylon-writes @ravenhood2792 @shoxji @griimreaperr @galacticstxrdust @cptmaverick-marvel @comedinewithmeyeh @fluffysteampunkd @callmenoiselul @isissakibbs-blog @urfavsunkissedleo @decaffeinatedmom01 @23victoria @silveroak-art @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deadbranch @ella-error505 @water-hemlock18 @abbiesxox @queen-of--roses @kiriki45 @desxr-fx @emrzennn

[eddiessluttywaist]

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 7,547 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, unhealthy eating habits depicted (eddie accidentally forgets to eat), fluff, swearing, feeling unwanted, mentions of bullying/being publicly humiliated, low self esteem, anxiety, mentions of embarrassment, mention of an involuntary erection in adolescence lol, very brief mention of drugs, really awful & embarrassing awkwardness at the end i’m so sorry i had to. i think that’s it!

a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

*

You reveled in the juvenile glory that was giving Eddie a hard time, especially since it had been so long since you’ve had the chance to.

You were grateful for the opportunity to settle back into one another even if it was by acting like complete children. Part of you even felt like these moments were exactly what you had hoped for, except that there was something off. Something still polite and unsure to your interactions. It made sense since it had been so long, but it was still odd. This touch of distance to all of it was incredibly foreign when you considered the way things had always been between you and him.

In that small market, you realized so much of Eddie was exactly how you remembered. And as much as you wanted to cling to him to appease your instinctive fear of losing him again, you both had to part ways so you could put away groceries.

Far less of the asshole you met on Thursday, he was more than willing to give you his phone number when you admitted you wanted to keep talking. You were embarrassed to tell him, especially since you didn’t want to scare him off with the strong attachment you still had (which you worried he wouldn’t match), but he didn’t even think about it. There was no judgmental glance or snicker under his breath. Only an “oh, yeah, of course” and then patting at his pockets to see if he had anything on him to write with.

“I feel like I still know you, but not really. It’s weird to think about everything I missed out on,” you admitted over the motel landline. “D’you think you’re the same Eddie as 11 year old Eddie?”

“Probably not,” he confessed in a sigh. “You the same as 10 year old you?”

You paused for a moment, even if it wasn’t necessary. Of course you weren’t the same. Not wholly.

“No, I suppose not…,” you trailed off before speaking up again, your finger twirling the phone cord around. “Do you think we’ll still be best friends? Or is this all too strange?”

“I don’t think I have a choice. You’re clearly obsessed.”

“Screw off,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks grow rosy.

“Well maybe…,” he exhaled, taking a moment to think before he continued to answer your question genuinely this time. You could hear him shifting in his spot, probably to be more comfortable. “Maybe a bit awkward. Why? Regretting coming here already?”

“No,” you shook your head as if he could see you and you rubbed the heel of your foot forward on the bedding to get your sock back into place after it had shifted. “Maybe we just need to catch up. Fill each other in on all the stuff we missed out on. Then it’ll be like there was no gap.”

There was some silence on his end, except for the faint sound of his breathing. Then there was suddenly movement again as his hair brushed against the phone and he yawned out his reply.

“That’s fair.”

“… Do you think I could see you tomorrow?”

“Mm, well I work until 5 tomorrow but we could do something after.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna bug you,” you spoke softly as if you were a teenager sneaking phone calls far too late. “I’m sure I’m annoying you, but I just… I don’t know… just wanna reconnect.”

Silence. You swallowed nervously, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder while you toyed with your hands.

“Y’know?”

Still nothing. Were you being as obnoxious as you feared? Were you being too excessive about all of this? Why wasn’t he answering you? Was he not as interested as you were in rekindling your friendship?

“Eddie?” You asked now, but it was just his breathing.

You were worried he was getting annoyed with you or maybe even trying to upset you by not responding, until you heard a light snore.

*

Eddie’s exhaustion was getting so bad that it seemed to be ingraining itself into his body. Digging into his bones, stiffening his muscles and joints, digging a void in his torso. He swore he could feel it slowly melting his brain that craved its necessary reprieve. He was starting to worry he was going to drift off while driving or something worse—if there was something worse than that.

He must’ve gone just long enough without any decent rest because he didn’t even remember dozing off. Usually with an adequate sleep schedule, he could remember approximately when he started to slip into unconsciousness, but not this time. He was on the phone one moment, and then he was suddenly waking up the next morning.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, adjusting to the light coming in through his window, and grunting lowly over the aching in his neck. He had fallen asleep sitting up in bed with his back against the wall, and gradually slid down throughout the night. It left his back and neck at an awkward bend for far too long and he was already feeling the effects. Straightening out his posture, Eddie stretched and rubbed at the back of his neck while different pops and creaks sounded throughout his body. As he shifted in his spot, he heard something drop off of the bed and onto the floor with a clatter. Brows furrowed and lips in an interested pout, he glanced past the edge of the mattress to see his telephone hanging down from its bouncing cord.

“Fuck…,” he muttered and scooped the receiver back up.

“Hey- Hello?” he started asking until he heard the incessant beeping coming from the phone.

Shit. He completely fell asleep on you. This wasn’t exactly helping his case right now. Once the phone was back on its cradle, he let out another grumbling sound while he rubbed his hands over his face. Arms dropping back down, he let out a small puff of air and glanced at the clock. Once and then a second time in panic.

“Shit!” Eddie gasped, launching out of bed. He was supposed to be at work two hours ago. He didn’t couldn’t bother with putting together something to eat, only sparing the time he had to hop around his bedroom as he pulled on his clothes and shoved his socked feet into his boots.

*

“I’m so sorry, I slept through my alarm. I swear that this-”

“Yeah, really missing out on all the action,” Mr. Thacher grumbled with a small smirk as he gestured his hand outwards to display the empty waiting room. “Don’t worry, kid, shit happens.”

“Eloquent as ever,” Lin commented on his response, giving Eddie a toothy grin as he rushed over to punch his time card. He could see her usual neon green mint gum just barely poking out from between her teeth. Mr. Thacher quietly grunted in response to her remark, continuing to flip through an auto parts catalog.

“‘D you talk to that girl that came by? What was that bracelet about?”

Eddie had been so frazzled by waking up late, that he stumbled over the mention of you. Although to be fair, he probably would’ve still stumbled even if he wasn’t mixed up from all the rushing.

“Oh— I—” he stuttered, his mind struggling to play catch up and reply to her while simultaneously attempting to remember what he needed to get done today. The Ford was already back to that snippy woman, one car he couldn’t even work on until a part came in—he guessed he was stuck with whatever else was left in the garage. What even was there?

He rubbed at his forehead as if the contact to the spot would get his brain to work. “Yeah--”

“A girl, huh?” Thacher grinned, the topic pulling his gaze up from the catalog.

“Seemed real strange, but sweet. Very mousy,” Linda whispered as if she was being secretive. As if Eddie couldn’t hear her.

“Just a friend of mine from when I was a kid,” he explained in hopes of avoiding any teasing or toying of any sorts, then went to the garage.

“Ahh, just a friend,” Mr. Thacher murmured at the clarification, sharing a knowing smile with the receptionist as Eddie escaped to the back.

Eddie could remember how Wayne teased him when he said the same thing about Chrissy. Just a friend. Just some girl who was actually nice to him. Just this, just that. Someone older than him acting like they knew everything before he did, particularly in the world of romance—which he was horribly out of touch with—always left him flustered.

Yes, he was aware he was the undateable town freak but he didn’t need to be reminded through the excessive attention to anything that could be a shocking turn of events in his love life. It emphasized how rare it was for someone to be interested in him. It was also irritating because it was bound to leave him even more humiliated in the long run. Whenever people around him made a big deal about someone he liked, it only made it all that more disheartening to have to beg them to stop bringing it up because shocker—it didn’t work out.

Not to mention, it was turning out to be a particularly touchy subject when it came to you. You were actually just a friend for nearly the entirety of his childhood; so Thacher and Lin viewing you as someone he was crushing on made him feel like a lone ant under their magnifying glass, and they were ignorant to just how badly they were burning him up. Especially now that he’s painfully aware of your existence as a grown woman and even more painfully aware of how easily he could fall into a devastating crush for you like some teenager. Sure, in a childish diary entry you once talked about him being your first kiss on your 10th birthday, but did that mean anything? No. You were young and wanted to get a milestone out of the way. You could never feel something beyond platonic bond with him. He could tell.

Now trying to focus on work, he was distracted by how ruffled he felt from being forced to think of you romantically or... Ugh, why was that suddenly so awkward? Romance. Physical attraction: Not a big deal. He’s an adult and capable of discussing such matters, but clearly not when it comes to you. He felt his stomach flip flop and his face get all red, which he hoped was hidden well by the hood of the car he was currently inspecting. You are so grown up now. Well, of course you were and of course he was too. You were both in your mid-20s, and it wasn’t like you saw one another’s transitions from childhood to adolescence to young adulthood. You were an obnoxious young girl with pigtails one day, and now suddenly a young woman who made him anxious. If he didn’t know your heart, he would’ve been sure you were the kind of girl to avoid him. The kind to not give him a second glance—maybe not even a first glance.

When he was a kid you were just… you. Critter. That annoying little shit who he spent nearly every second with. Now you’re you, Critter, and that beautiful newcomer who showed a daunting amount of interest in him. What if you realized he wasn’t worth your time? That he didn’t hold up to any standards he may have set once upon a time? He didn’t want his worries to get in the way, but he was sure they already have in some way. It’s just that you’re here so suddenly and so… pretty (ugh, he felt like a stupid teenager thinking like this) and he could barely string a decent sentence together on a regular basis let alone with someone like you staring at him or waiting on the other end of the call.

Oh god that call. Remembering that beeping phone hanging on its curling cord made him want to kneel down and let the hood of the car slam down on his head. At what point did he fall asleep? And were you upset with him? As if he didn’t already need to prove himself after his little episode on Thursday, now he had this to make up for too.

Great. Just great.

*

“Uh… I don’t know. I usually only hire locals. They already know everyone and know how things run around here.”

Your eyes grew a little sad at the response the man behind the bar gave you as he wiped at his hands with a towel. Unlike Eddie’s work towel, this one actually looked like it did its job. This was a rejection, wasn’t it? Or maybe just an opportunity. Usually. He said usually.

“I’m staying in Hawkins. I- I’ll get to know everyone, and I promise I’ll work hard. I waited tables at a diner back home for a really long time, I promise I know what I’m doing,” You thought you sounded confident, but maybe you were just begging. The middle aged man eyed you for a moment, considering you before speaking up again.

“Well, there’s a difference between a diner and a bar. Some of these men are downright sloppy.”

“If you mean they’ll grope me because they’ve been drinking, I can assure you I’ve been grabbed at plenty by someone sipping their first coffee of the morning. I can handle it.”

He hummed in thought, and maybe he was amused by your response. Maybe he couldn’t care less, but you were hanging on every word.

“Just to be clear… that’s not to say me, my boys, and Sandra won’t back you up if someone tries to bother you,” He jerked his thumb back to drag your attention to the woman who was roughly around the same age as him. You assumed they were married, and their sons worked for them. Did he say he only hires locals or family?

“I only want to warn you in case it’s too upsettin’.“

“So does that mean I have the job?” You grinned, hand still clutching that strip of paper with contact information from their “HELP WANTED” sign.

He wanted to warn you. There was something worth warning you about, something worth possibly backing you up about. That meant you’d be here. He sighed, and tossed his towel onto his shoulder.

“It means you get a chance. And don’t get cocky on me, alright? I’ve seen enough people swear up and down about their experience and then try to show off how much they can carry or memorize. It jus’ ends up costing me an arm and a leg with all the shit they screw up.”

“No games. I promise,” You nod your head firmly with all the respect of a soldier acknowledging their commander.

“Hm. Can you start tomorrow night?“

“Absolutely! Thank you so much, Mr.Smith,” You chirped from the other side of the bar, slipping off of your seat while he huffed out a snort.

“Just call me Ron, alright? Don’t have to be so formal.”

You might’ve been too cheery about a crummy waitressing job at a crummy bar in a crummy town, but this had you feeling that maybe your luck was finally turning up. You needed a job and while driving around in hopes of a “HELP WANTED” sign, you actually got one. And you were already getting the job. Well, a chance.

You were getting a chance.

*

“I have a job!” You announced with your arms raised up in joy, returning to the motel late that afternoon.

“Alright!” Martha grinned from behind her newspaper which she was folding up now at your appearance. “Look at you. Settling in already.”

“Well, I have a chance. He said a chance. But it’s something, and I really hope I prove myself to him.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great, dear. You’re gonna wow ‘em, get that job, and find a nice place.”

“I already have a nice place,” You pout now, folding your arms on the ledge in front of her usual spot and place your chin on top of them.

“This is just some crappy motel,” Martha reassured you with an amused huff and a gesture of her hand. “You deserve better. Not to mention, you can’t stay here forever—as much as I’d love to have you.”

“Are you breaking up with me? Kicking me out?”

Martha rolled her eyes and snickered, making your lips turn up into a smile.

“I want you to have a nice apartment you can call your own.”

“Hm,” you hum in consideration. “We’ll have to set days to spend together. Hey, maybe we can have breakfast every Sunday at Benny’s!”

“I’d like that,” she grinned up at you kindly, until her eyes were suddenly glittering with mischief as she parted her lips to speak up again. “Now about that boy…”

You groan with all the dramatics of a gaggle of teenagers and abandon your place at the front desk. You briefly walk away from your spot before begrudgingly circling back.

“I’m just saying you were awfully smiley when you got back from the store.”

“Yeah, with your nasty sardines,” You deflect and follow it up with a gag.

A playful pout comes to your lips at the look she gives you—an expression that could’ve said plenty of things, but you knew translated to “stop avoiding the subject.”

“We… talked,” you shrugged, gaze flitting to the ground as you fight against every muscle in your face desperately trying for a smile. “That’s all.”

“Ah, I see…,” Martha took off her glasses to clean the lenses with the edge of her shirt. “Was he good to you?”

“Yeah. He felt bad that he didn’t know it was me ‘n all that,” You murmured and glanced over at that daddy long legs that was nestled in its respective corner, tilting your head to regard it for a moment.

“Well that’s good,” She hummed and placed her glasses back on her face. “Is he handsome?”

You rolled your eyes so hard, you probably could’ve triggered a headache. Your only verbal response is another groan as you turn on your heel and head down the hall.

“What? Oh, it’s an innocent question!” Martha laughed, and you huff out a playful scoff on your way to your room.

*

You tried to not let last night dwindle your confidence. At first, your mind shot right to its typical worst case scenarios—you’re boring. You bore him now. That’s why he fell asleep. He couldn’t be bothered. That’s why he fell asleep. You’re so annoying he was looking for an escape—that one seemed like a stretch until you thought. But what if he was just pretending so you’d hang up already and stop bothering him? You sat with that one for a while, but then decided he wouldn’t do that… right? If you were already annoying him that much then he wouldn’t have even given you his number.

Then there was your sickeningly sweet side. The part of you so ungodly saccharine that it didn’t just put the world through a rose tinted lens—it was golden like honey and saturated with radiant sunshine and men who don’t disappoint. The latter should’ve been enough to take you out of it—too fictitious—but you holed up there sometimes. Not as much as you used to because when you never left it that was always a sign of trouble, but it was a nice retreat from your constant anxieties. On this side, he fell asleep because he was comfortable. You hadn’t seen him in over ten years, and still managed to make him feel safe enough to sleep in your presence—even if it was just through a phone.

Or he was just tired enough that he knocked out, which meant he could still be indifferent to you. This jostled your inner paradise and made your brows frown when it passed through. You shake your head as if to wipe the slate clean when you finally realize just how long you had been in your own head and glance at the clock. It was a little after 5 PM. He said he would be out by now, but you hadn’t been able to secure anything before he was snoring on the other line.

Should you still stop by the shop? You two hadn’t decided on if you would be going there, or if you’d meet up somewhere else. Fighting your urges that could easily be considered an instinct to smother him, you stay put at the motel. Instead of thinking about Eddie, you think about your chance at a job. You hadn’t worked at that diner back home in the past year—maybe year and a half—and now you were ruminating over every little detail of working there. You were continuously reassuring yourself that you remembered how to serve people in a small town as you dug through your bags to find something to wear.

Oh crap, you forgot to ask if there was a dress code.

You tried to think of what Ron was wearing at the bar. Flannel. Definitely a flannel. You never saw what pants he was wearing, but you at least had that. Figuring you’ll play it safe, you pull out your nice jeans. They were particularly stiff and you would have to lay on the bed to button them, but you had to look your best. You’ll pair them with a clean black top and comfortable shoes, and just hope they give you an apron.

*

Despite Thacher’s insistence that he go home, Eddie stayed longer at the shop than he usually did on Wednesdays since he came in late. One would think finally sleeping would be rejuvenating, and it was to a certain degree, but it also left him incredibly groggy. His body felt drunk on the sudden abundance of rest, and he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. He just prayed he would sleep tonight too.

No one came in around close, but he could focus on fixing what was already in the back—not including the car that he was still waiting on a part for. It wasn’t until he felt like he was going to keel over from the gut pain that he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. The few cups of coffee he had felt like they were slowly eroding his stomach as it begged for a decent meal. He made his way to the small break room and scoured the cabinets to find a Chinese food menu, a tub of Folgers, a forgotten can of Sanka (cause really, who was drinking decaf at work?), filters, an array of plastic cutlery, napkins, a ramen seasoning packet and aha—a packet of instant oatmeal.

Tearing the paper with his teeth, Eddie reached for his usual mug to dump the oats into before adding water. He watched the cup turning in the buzzing microwave with a sigh of relief as the scent of cinnamon began filling the air, all while he rubbed at his neck and stretched his still aching back. He waited until the very last second to smash his knuckles against the button to successfully open the microwave door right before it could beep at him.

“Ow ow ow--” he hissed around his first bite, which was visibly steaming, but he was too hungry to care as it burned away at his mouth.

“You know I think that has been in the cabinet since ‘86,” Linda commented as he made his way towards the front, picking up on the scent of instant oatmeal before she could even turn her head to confirm that was what he was eating.

“Well right now, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” He grinned a closed mouth smile around his boiling hot snack and then shoveled in another scoop just to keep huffing and puffing from how hot it was.

“You can let it cool, y’know. It’s not gonna run away from you,” She snickered as she organized her desk.

Eddie lifted his plastic spoon to show off the sludge that slowly slid down and plopped back into the mug.

“Sure about that? This doesn’t look like something that could come to life?”

“Don’t play with your food,” She chastised gently with a tilt of her head, making him laugh.

“Yes, mother,” He snickered and she joined in, but the sentiment wasn’t entirely a joke.

She had become somewhat of a mother figure for Eddie since he first started here at 16. She defended him whenever the opportunity arose and she kept an eye on his interactions with others, always hoping for some happiness to come around for him. Sometimes she was concerned that maybe he wouldn’t treat a girl right—take advantage like a lot of men do—but she was usually only concerned about him. He was the one that got hurt nearly every time, excluding that recent one he made cry.

“So a childhood friend, huh?” She suddenly asked, despite him not being aware of her thoughts turning from the topic of old oatmeal to you.

Eddie’s eyes were so childish and round as he glanced over at her, it was almost cartoonish in the way that they glittered. He was softer talking about you now that it was only Lin, even if he still felt somewhat irritable from being pestered about you.

“Yeah, she uh…,” Eddie swallowed, setting his mug down on that awkward half wall around her desk and started picking at his nails. “She’s from Ohio. When I still lived with my dad.”

“Ahh…,” Linda raised her brows, but backed off a little. She knew his dad was a sensitive topic. She clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “Well that’s sweet of her to come here to see you, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck again. “It’s a little weird.”

“Do you not want her here?”

“No—god, no, I mean yes. No I don’t… not want her here.”

“Mkay,” Linda hummed, having a hard time not smiling over his blushing cheeks.

“I just mean I haven’t seen her in so long, so it’s shocking, y’know? The last time I saw her she was 9. Well, she’d insist she was practically 10 since it was so close to her birthday-” Eddie rambled out that last part, rolling his eyes a little and flapping his hands out over the recent memory of your insistence that you had been 10. He let out a huff of air, then toyed with a strand of his hair to pull in front of his face as he shifted in his spot.

“But uh… yeah.”

Linda eyed him for a moment, until it all clicked into place for her. Oh he’s so cute.

“Aw, it’s strange for you to see her all grown and womanly,” She cooed.

Eddie’s face twisted as he dropped his hair from between his fingers, and might as well have gagged.

“Oh, god— do not call her womanly.”

“But it’s true! You knew her as a young girl and now she’s blossomed into a woman. Oh, Eddie-”

“Ugh, shit, I should’ve left at 5 when Thach offered,” Eddie grumbled, twisting around to bring the empty mug back into the break room.

“Just because she’s finally developed her breasts doesn’t mean she can’t be your friend anymore, dear!” Linda called after him in a manner that sounded sincere, but he could hear the edge of humor in her tone.

He grumbled to himself, trying to ignore how hot his face and ears felt. He was 25 years old. He shouldn’t have to feel this way. Part of him wished it was coming from a familial standpoint of Oh my gosh look at you, you’re all grown up, I can’t believe it! But no. No this was coming from the place of his inner adolescent self tripping up because the change in your appearance was so drastic. For all intents and purposes, you forever remained in a childhood time capsule while he continued to grow up. Then he blinked and you were showing up as a 24 year old woman, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t stupefied by it. And Linda had him figured out in record time.

He rinsed out his mug, shooting a playful glare at her when she walked in to place her mug from that morning in the sink.

“Oh don’t be so sour. I’m sure she’s just as surprised to see you all grown up.”

*

“Good to see you’re back in the land of the living,” you teased when Eddie called you later that night after work and dinner.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, phone cupped between the side of his face and his shoulder as he lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply then let out a contented sigh, watching the plume of smoke dissipate the further it traveled through his room. He dropped his hand down that was holding the common vice between his middle and forefinger, ring finger picking at his pajama pants. “But uh… seriously. I’m sorry about that. I just… haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Oh,” you said rather simply, shifting to get more comfortable in your spot. “‘D you wanna talk about it?”

“Nothin’ to really talk about. Just have a hard time sleeping.”

“Like, falling asleep or staying asleep?”

“Uhh yes.”

You rolled your eyes and allowed him a breath of a pity laugh at his response.

“When did that start?”

“‘D you end up going to school to be a shrink or something?”

“Oh god no,” you all but dry heave, the mention making you think of that tool from your college. “I went for an education degree.”

“No shit?” His voice lilted up at the end and you could hear him following it up with a deep inhale and exhale of smoke. “So you want to be a teacher?”

“You’re avoiding the subject, Eddie.” Although to be fair—now you were too.

“Whatcha gonna do? Spank me with a ruler or somethin’, teach?” He tittered, and he was grateful that you couldn’t see how he immediately rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and silently asked the world why the fuck he just said that. The only relief from his debilitating misery was the way you laughed at his stupid comment.

“Screw off,” you giggled before sobering your tone. “No but really—is everything okay? I feel bad that you’re not sleeping.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“No, I know…,” you murmured, toying with a loose thread in the motel comforter. “Just wish you didn’t have a hard time sleeping.”

“Yeah me too,” he laughed and smothered the glowing end of his cigarette into his ashtray when he was done with it. “But it’s not a big deal.”

“I could make you chamomile tea or something. That always helps me sleep,” you answer, your heart thrumming from the simple offer.

“You really want to come to my crappy place and make me leaf water?”

“Or just don’t sleep tonight. Wish you the best, Loogie.”

Eddie’s groan crackled through the old phone, and you could feel the eye roll that came with such a sound.

*

“So—oh careful it’s hot—” you murmured when he carelessly dragged the mug to his side of the countertop in his small kitchen, not wanting the tea to spill over onto his fingers.

It didn’t take much convincing for him to welcome you over to his trailer, and you were all giddy over seeing his place. He put a lot of emphasis on the fact that his home was shitty and didn’t understand your joy, but you were happy nonetheless.

“So it should help you get sleepy, and if you wanna you can make a wish when you stir it,” you grin over at him like a little kid, and he finds it endearing that you still enjoyed something as simple and sweet as making a wish. He remembered how as kids, you clung to just about every scenario that could incorporate making a wish. A lone eyelash on a cheek. A birthday candle. A dandelion. A friendship bracelet.

“If you stir clockwise you can wish for something into your life, or you can stir counterclockwise to wish something out of it,” he eyes you from where you’re settling your elbows on his counter and cradling your chin on your open palms.

“So I can… wish for a shit ton of cash or something and I’ll wake up a millionaire?” he questioned, still smiling even when you give him your best glare.

“Ha-ha,” you sneer. “No, jackass, but you can wish for abundance.”

“Abundance?”

“Yeah, like wishing for better opportunities to come your way.”

“Or I could start selling weed again,” he counters, watching the way you push away from where you were leaning into his counter.

“You’re being mean.” you complain and it feels more familiar to him than anything else.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he sighs out through a light laugh. He shakes out his arms theatrically like someone preparing for a daunting task—only to lean in and grasp the handle of a small spoon between his fingers.

“You sold drugs?” you suddenly ask and his gaze flits up.

“Do you mind? Trying to make a wish over here.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, but he just kept staring at you.

“What?”

“Do you have to watch me?”

“Oh I’m sorry, can you not perform while I’m looking?” you bunch up your lips into a mocking pout, and now it’s his turn to glare. “Fine.”

Once you’re turned around, you hear the occasional clink of metal against ceramic and it makes you smile until you hear the gulping that follows.

“Oh my god— it’s a cup of calming tea, not a shot of tequila,” you gasp as you turn to find him downing the liquid that was probably still scalding hot.

“Yeah no shit,” he chokes out, putting the mug that was still half full now before sticking his tongue out and looking down to try and see if he could find any evidence of the burning he felt. Between the oatmeal and the tea, his taste buds were taking a real beating today. You giggle at the ridiculous action, and then even more when his gaze turns up to you with his tongue still out.

“I’m sorry, is this funny to you?”

“Yeah,” you admit honestly, giving him a big smile through the small titters that melts his heart.

“Keep it up. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m ditching town with a million bucks.”

“Screw off, I told you it doesn’t work that way--” you huff, reaching over to nudge his arm and it only encourages his goofiness. Eddie’s leaning into the counter as he grins over at you.

“So when does this shit kick in?”

“It’s tea, not a downer,” you counter in a patient tone and gently move the cup closer to him. “Just keep drinking it with slow sips and try to relax.”

He hums in lighthearted disappointment at it being pointed out that the tea wasn’t a strong sedative, but he already feels somewhat calmer even in all his excitement over messing with you. The scent of the chamomile and honey, and the smell of your perfume. The softer tone of voice you took on when you focused on the fact that your task was to help him relax and sleep. The familiarity of your presence even with the distance caused by time apart. The coziness of his pajamas and your matching sweatshirt-sweatpants combo.

“Remember when we were kids? And I slept over all the time?” you murmured randomly, this moment of helping him calm down to sleep directing your thoughts to that simpler time.

“Yeah,” he grinned and leaned forward on his forearms. “And my dad always insisted you stay in a sleeping bag on the floor-”

“But you let me climb into your bed if I had a nightmare,” you finished for him, blushing at the fond memory.

“If? You were always scared of the dark. You never stayed in that sleeping bag.” he chortled and dragged his mug up to his lips.

“I never got why your dad didn’t want us sharing a bed. Even now, it’s stupid. We were kids, it’s not like we thought about stuff like… like…,” you start with a laugh before trailing off as you feel a thick fog of awkward tension suddenly settle in his trailer. You clear your throat and look down at your hands.

“Just stupid. We were too young. A-and even if we had been teenagers it’s not… it’s not like…,” you sputter, internally screaming at yourself for directing the conversation this way.

“You would not have wanted to share a bed when I was in the throes of puberty,” he snorted and displayed his hand outward as if presenting scenes from his teenage years while he dramatized those last three words. You were grateful for him saving you from this mortifying moment with his sense of humor.

“The people are right: teenage boys are disgusting.”

It’s your turn now to snort and raise your brows as you concur with a simple nod.

“Which is so unfair, by the way,” he points at you after settling his mug back down from another sip. “Why do girls just get better? And we have to suffer?”

“Oh please,” you scoff incredulously. “Have you ever had a period before? A single cramp? Bled through your jeans and everyone can see?”

“Uh, have you ever gotten a random hard-on during a presentation in school?” he countered and you flinched at the idea.

“Oh god…”

“Yeah. I wanted to drop dead.”

“…What were you doing a presentation on?” you wonder after a pause for consideration, a curious smile pulling at your lips. He eyes you from under his lashes and curly bangs before looking down at what’s left of his tea as he mutters under his breath.

“I’m sorry?”

“S’lm ‘ch ‘ls.”

“Come again?”

“The Salem Witch Trials,” he finally admitted loud enough for you to hear and you throw your head back in a cackle as he buried his face in his hands. You eventually sober up enough to speak again, eyes wild with amusement.

“You got off on people being unjustly executed in Colonial America?”

“No!” he groaned, separating his hands from his face.

“No, that’s the worst part. I wasn’t even turned on by anything. It just-“ he gestured towards his groin that was hidden behind the counter. “It just did it on its own.”

“Oh that’s so humiliating.” you whisper like it’s a secret, and he huffs.

“Yeah, no kidding— will you stop smiling about it?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can. It’s too funny,” you admit with an apologetic scrunch of your nose.

“No, now we have to get even. Now I have to know something embarrassing about when you were a teenager,” He waved his hand, urging you to contribute so it was fair.

“Can’t think of anything. I was perfect,” you sighed sweetly with a hint of grandeur, hands pressed against the counter top and head tilting into your shoulder. He stared you down until you crack with a giggle.

“Uhh, let’s see…,” you hummed, looking off at a corner of his ceiling while you perused your memories. Your face is neutral and deep in thought until something clearly hits you sideways and makes you cringe.

“Well, I got pantsed in high school when I wasn’t wearing any underwear.”

“Ouch,” Eddie hissed at the memory as if it personally hurt him before he barked out a laugh. “Bad day to go commando.”

“I didn’t even mean to,” you whine, now the one hiding their face. “It was gym and I forgot another pair of underwear. I didn’t want to sit in sweaty underwear for the rest of the day so I just…”

“And someone pantsed you?” he cackled, hands hugging his cup.

“Yes,” you huff with a pout. “It was Zachary McKay.”

“He was always a tool,” Eddie muttered now, a small yawn escaping him. “Even when we were kids.”

“He had a crush on me after that, though, so I benefited from the sudden kindness for a while,” you let out a hollow laugh, as if that saved you from the humiliation of everyone seeing you half naked in gym.

“Oh god, you didn’t date him did you?” he asked like it personally pained him, and the torture wouldn’t let up until you shook your head.

“Ew, no. He just had a hard-on for me after seeing me half naked, and then he was right back to being an ass when I turned him down.”

“Good girl,” Eddie muttered casually over you not stooping low enough to entertain anyone as awful as McKay.

He didn’t even think about it, and the phrase wasn’t drawn out in that way someone would when they were being provocative, but it still nearly made you choke on your spit. You were grateful for him going around the corner of the counter and behind you to put his mug in the sink after downing what was left, so you had a chance to recover. You wanted to drop dead like a teenage boy getting an involuntary erection in the middle of a presentation.

“Sorry he was an ass to you just cause you didn’t wanna date him, though. Not that I’m surprised that he’d do that,” he muttered, walking up from behind you after abandoning the sink. He’s brushing against you for just a second and then back to his spot across from you.

“Yeah…,” you agreed breathlessly and forced yourself to look at him. “You look like you’re getting tired. Want me to leave so you can try to sleep?”

Or so I can throw myself into a pit?

“I feel bad kicking you out after you were nice enough to bring me stuff,” he reaches over to grab the box full of chamomile tea bags for emphasis. “And making it for me and everything.”

“It’s okay, really. I know you have a busy day tomorrow… I do too, actually. Not until a bit later, but…,” you trailed off as you collected your thoughts and toy with your hands. “Really. I don’t mind leaving so you can sleep.”

“Okay… but if you get any nightmares don’t call me cryin’ cause you can’t climb into my bed,” he teased while he stretched, the bottom of his band tee lifting to show a sliver of tummy.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed and he huffs out a laugh, letting his arms drop back down to his sides.

There’s a moment where that distance comes back. You forgot it still existed until it got to you leaving. Do you just say goodbye and head out? Do you hug? He doesn’t seem sure either and just kind of scratches the back of his neck while jutting his thumb towards his bedroom.

“I should probably go to my room if I wanna sleep.”

“That’s a good choice.” you snickered, placing the strap of your purse over your shoulder and starting to gravitate towards the door. “Let me know if the chamomile helps.”

“I will,” he offered you a small, charming smile as he picked at the skin of his thumb. “I uh—shit, right-”

He goes over to you now, extending an arm.

A hug. Okay. You’re gonna hug.

You wrap an arm around his torso in a half hug just as his hand lands on the screen door’s handle. The creak of old springs is too late and you already hugged him. Fuck.

“Oh I was- no. Yeah,” he stumbled over his words.

“I’m sorry I thought-”

“No, no. I-”

He briefly wrapped you up in his arms and somehow being scooped up into him was worse than if he had backed away from you. He was keeping you hostage in your own humiliation, even if he was trying to be kind. You desperately wanted to savor his body heat and his smell of tobacco, leather and cinnamon, but you can’t even do that. Not while your fight or flight is setting off alarms all throughout your body.

“Thank you for stopping by,” he rubbed your back before parting from his gesture that he felt he should’ve already been offering. “Really.”

“Any time,” you squeak out, trying to laugh off the awkward moment to seem cool and casual, but you’re probably just making it worse.

“Night, Looddie- Loog- Ed- I…Wow, I started to say one and then went with the other… and I just said Looddie… that’s great.”

You laugh again with one foot out the door, and he seemed genuine when he joined you but it didn’t stop you from wishing you could disappear in a magnificent feat of spontaneous combustion.

Once you were outside of the trailer, you felt paralyzed by your own embarrassment and deafened by the unrelenting silence of night. If it weren’t for the fact that he would hear you, you’d be smacking your head off the side of his trailer and screaming.

This was so much worse than being pantsed by Zach McKay.

*

taglist: @mystars123 @h-ness1944 @ohmeg @milkymil-k @eddiesprincess86 @stopbeingcurious @corrodedcoffincumslut @sidthedollface2 @spoonflix @madaboutjoe @fckyeahlames

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - a field log

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Next | AO3 ]

Booting... Booting... The current date is: 999999–!!! Error: Memory exceeded !!! Please select calendar convention for date calibration.

> New Hylian Calendar

NHC convention selected. Calibrating… The current date is: 104 AC (After Calamity). 5th month, 12th day. This time of year is commonly known in Hylian nomenclature as Spring's End. Save settings?

> Yes

Date confirmed.

* Welcome to the Purah Pad *

The Purah Pad is a state-of-the-art, fully portable adventure-class Sheikah Slate. The Purah Pad can be used to:

View far-away objects using the Scope

Take photographic images

View maps and current location (requires Sky View data)

Teleport instantaneously to travel gates registered to the Purah Pad

Record materials, creatures, monsters, and other objects found in Hyrule

Log activities and requests received from fellow travelers

Take additional field notes, as required

The Purah Pad is currently in development. We are not accepting feedback at this time.

Please direct any complaints to Symin at Hateno Village Research Laboratory.

Log date 09:55. 5th month 12th day 104AC Location: Great Sky Island. Weather: Mild. Clear skies.

Arm hurts, really hurts. In a bad way. Master Sword is damaged, or worse. What the hell happened down there?

It's bright here, gotta be high up in the sky. Were there always islands here?

A green construct-type person (like Guardians but with a face?) had this Purah Pad. Looks in OK condition. Zelda would know more. No sign of her. Apparently she's nearby, in a temple.

Not sure how many logs to make. Normally Zelda’s thing. I’m used to her being here. Used to the sound of her voice. Will just take notes until she’s back. Not sure how, but will find her.

Have to find her.

Log is accompanied by a picture of a Zonai Steward Construct. Its large, see-saw head is angled slightly to the side, as if perplexed.

Caption: He seems friendly.

Log date 12:30. 5th month, 13th day 104 AC Location: Ukouh Shrine Weather: Mild. Partly cloudy.

A lot has happened. Arm still hurts, whole body hurts. Rauru (source of arm) has been helpful. Not sure if he's trustworthy but no choice. Have to find Zelda, no matter what.

There are Shrines here on this sky island - deja vu. Seem older than the Sheikah Shrines though.

This arm and its powers are something else. Made a raft with fans. Put them on the wrong way, fell off the raft. Tried again a few times until it worked. Repeat.

Two more Shrines left, maybe next time Rauru will give me the power to summon a hot meal. Click of the fingers and snap: fried eggs. But probably not.

A photograph of some roasted mushrooms beside a fire, slightly charred, as a Zonai Steward Construct looks on.

Caption: These will do for now.

---

Log date: 16:30. 5th month, 14th day 104 AC Location: In-Isa shrine Weather: Mild. Partly cloudy.

Stopping to catch my breath. Going to sit by this Shrine a while.

Got this Fuse ability. Feels good to have a sword even if it's made from a tree branch and bits of dead robot.

Sword arm is not what it used to be. Reflexes slower too. Can feel the gloom under my skin. Fought a Captain Construct, got hit one too many times. Some bad bad bruises but the Light of Blessing healed them up quick. Mostly pride hurt now.

Back to the Temple of Time tomorrow. Zelda’s not far, can feel it.

A photograph of a fused rock-hammer weapon, resting against the weathered structure of a Shrine of Light.

Caption: Using a rock to break rocks!

---

Log date: 20:55 5th month, 14th day 104 AC Location: Temple of Time Weather: Cool. Clear skies.

It doesn't make sense. She was here, and then she wasn't. In the Temple of Time. Or her spirit? A memory? An echo? That's what Rauru called it. Said it was Zelda's sheer will, but how can he know? He won't even say who he is.

She looked so different. She looked.. divine. And then she gave me something. I can feel the name of it on the wind - Recall

She’s gone. But where? What happened to her?

Gonna leave this place tomorrow, just need to find that last Shrine. The fire's burning low but the nights here are short. There's something up above, the Purah Pad compendium calls it a Light Dragon. Currently watching it swim circles in the air til sleep comes, and then will see what tomorrow brings.

Zelda’s out there somewhere. Gotta find her, and put everything right. Don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t. Hope wherever she is, it’s warmer than here.

A photograph taken from below of a golden dragon, floating peacefully through the air.

Caption: How's the weather up there?

[hispieceofcake]

🪲My opinions and thoughts about the costume of the main character in the Beetlejuice sequel trailer🕸️ — (and the upcoming film)

I want to make it clear that these are just my opinions and thoughts, this post has no intention of provoking discussion or offending other people's opinions, it's just what I think and what I observe.

Okay, firstly about the choice of actor for the main character, I think the actress Jenna Ortega more than DESERVED this role, She was undoubtedly a great choice of actress, a friend and I talked about it and realized that Jenna really gives off the vibe of the movie Beetlejuice. It really fits into films with more gothic and horror themes, things like that, but then there's a small problem...

The problem itself is that they took away that gothic vibe like Lidya had in the first film, "Ah but she's Lidya's daughter, she doesn't necessarily need to be goth", That's it, Beetlejuice is a film with a more gothic feel, death, ghosts, bats, afterlife, things like that.

And I think it was kind of annoying that they took away this essence from the main character, Jenna is an AMAZING actress and fits in beautifully with gothic characters (Wednesday is an example).

Here we have an image I made comparing Lidya in the first film, and Jenna's character's outfit, and it honestly looks like she's dressed like a grunge teenager from TikTok.

"Ah, but there was a passage of time between the first film and the two"

Yes, there was, so much so that Lidya got married and had a daughter, but I don't know, they could have tried to keep the character a bit Gothic.

Now about the wedding dress on the official poster...

Guys, I even understand wanting to change the character's style and so on because well, it's been more or less 26 or 27 years and the style of the time has changed, but that's where the issue comes in. In the first film, it's Beetlejuice who makes the dress appear on Lidya, and he'll probably be the one to make Jenna's character's dress appear too and he was kind of stuck in that waiting room all that time, that is, the time has changed but he hasn't. Where I want to get to is the following

Here's a photo of Lidya's dress, and comparing it to Jenna's character's dress... I don't think Beetlejuice would make her wear a "simple" dress like that, man, we're talking about BEETLEJUICE, do you really think he would make his bride wear something simple?

Not to say anything bad, but the design on the top of the dress seems very simple, like something most people wear nowadays, I may be taking a shot in the dark for not having seen the rest of the dress but I'm talking about the top itself.

I made a picture of what in my head missing screws would make more sense or look better on the iconic wedding dress.

Like, it's okay for the top to be simple but the veil could make a big difference too, like in the image, I put two examples that I think would be perfect.

And remembering again people, it's just my opinion and my thoughts during a sleepless night, don't come and show up at my window in the middle of the night. 😥

Leaving that topic, we discovered that there will be a musical number in the film and honestly I'm quite excited and anxious to see what it will be like, and I'll be able to have a new song for my Beetlejuice playlist, so I'm very happy.☺️

Well people, that's all, I'm writing this at 3:36 in the morning and I haven't slept yet, so I decided to write this because I've been having these thoughts for a while. I also wanted to ask for something, as I've been saying in several posts, I'm making a Beetlejuice Masterlist, and it has things from the first film, the cartoon, the musical and now the sequel.

It's been a lot of work, and there's one thing I've been looking for for days and can't find, it's the 1992 Beetlejuice Cartoon Annual, so if anyone has it or has the link please share with me, I would be grateful.💗

Well, that's it, kisses to everyone's hearts and be careful with Beetlejuice in your room. *Beetlejuice jumpscare*

[gamequeenanya]

It's a good thing most of you didn't see my Discord theories, they were absolutely insane!

Heh. So with that said, I do have a theory about the FNAF movie and Phone Guy I'm pretty confident in. And that is something most theorists and youtubers don't want to admit, probably cause they're imagining this character a certain type of way and don't want to imagine him as "less hot." (Okay, I'm probably projecting a bit here. But I've come to terms with it because my favourite character will never be "ugly" to me. He's just not aged very well cause of the stress of the job. :( He would be only 32 at this point if he started in 1983 at age 23. I say age 23 because you need a Bachelor's Degree to become a company spokesperson, the job he probably had in FNAF 2. And this was probably his first job, since they managed to convince him Fazbear Ent.'s disregard for human life was normal.)

So, here's my theory! The previous security guard who we see for a couple seconds in the trailer is meant not to be a random "one-scene kill" character. He's meant to be Phone Guy!

Why we never hear the ring of the phone and the "Hello-hello?" is a little sus. I think they may be hiding him from the trailer either cause they want people to give his new actor a chance (I certainly will! <3) OR! Phone Guy is a spoiler character of some sort. (inb4 he ends up being Henry :P)

But I digress. The reason I think "Freddy's Security Guard" is Phone Guy is because if you compare the photos of what Ryan Reinike actually looks like and his character in the movie, you'll see that he's around mid-30s, young, with a full head of hair. Yet he has to wear makeup to make himself look older and more worn down. Blumhouse is a limited budged company. They're not going to spend money where they don't have to.

If this is just a random one scene character, why not just hire an actor who looks like that? ... Because this character is more important that a random "one scene kill" character. He'll probably be seen in flashbacks or in the FNAF 2 movie in a younger form! (We saw the FNAF 2 Foxy puppet in a brightened up trailer scene, which is pretty much confirmation for the prequel.) And it's much easier to use makeup to make a young actor look older than an old actor look young again. It will be interesting to see the choices they make!

That's pretty much it. I hope this made sense. I had fun making this theory and I know I am a nerd loser for analyzing this so hard. :P Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for any inaccuracies in this theory.

[heatwayve]

NAOMI: CASA AMOR DAY 4

what are you most looking forward to about reuniting with the other villa? what are you dreading the most?

“ i know it’s going to be hard to see dylan again. clearly a lot of things have changed since we saw each other last. so, that’s going to be a really hard conversation. it’s been easy to try to assume i know where his head is at, since i feel like i know him, but at the end of the day – i don’t know. maybe i don’t really know at all, ” she frowns. “ but i literally can’t wait to catch up with marcus. i hadn’t realized how much i talked to him every day i was in here until he wasn’t in here. it’s probably been good for us to get some space after what happened and we can get right back to our usual bullshit. i have so much to tell him, ” naomi smiles fondly. “ and, yeah, i know, ” she rolls her eyes, a deadpan look at the camera, “ josh. ” she leans back, “ at this point, i don’t even know whether to be excited or whether to be dreading it. maybe both. definitely both. i’ll figure it out when i see him. ” 

if you were to stick, why would you? why would you consider switching?

“ with everything that’s been going on with me, it’s made the most sense to just . . . keep that to myself, not mix anyone else up in the shitstorm i have to deal with when everyone returns, ” she grimaces. “ the postcard definitely seemed to indicate that i should be exploring other potential, but i started doing that so late that i still don’t really know if there’s anything there. ” 

is there a bombshell that’s at the top of you ‘list’? who would you bring back?

“ charlene’s made a real effort with me since yesterday, which is nice. i’m still figuring out if we’d really click or . . . how genuine it is, honestly, ” this is hilarious when naomi is fake as hell but i digress, “ but maybe i’d know more if i hadn’t spend the past few days closed off while the guys were cracking on, ” she points out. “ just wish i knew how things were going to go tonight, because bringing someone back could be the right choice or it could be a massive mistake. i do like her, and i don’t want to hurt anyone else. ” 

if none of the bombshells could come back, who would you miss most?

“ angel, for sure. i’m feeling pretty good about it, though, because i think callie would be a complete idiot not to bring him back and she totally knows it. ” naomi shrugs, “ but yeah, i’m really glad we became friends. ” and they have such different lives, naomi doesn’t think they’ll ever really get the chance to chill on the outside like they can now. 

what conversations do you need to have most when you reunite?

“ i think everyone’s sick of me talking about josh, but i really need to talk to josh. i don’t even know if he deserves it or if it’s all been total bullshit, but i need to know where his head’s at more than anything – i think it’s been pretty clear that it’s driving me fucking crazy. i can’t stop thinking about the other night. but seeing that photo just gave me this sinking feeling he hasn’t changed, so, ” naomi flashes the camera a tight-lipped smile. “ and i need to talk to dylan. it feels like make or break for us, really, which is hard . . . even before we got together, he always had my back or went out of his way to check on me. he made every day easier for me, and i feel like i’ve just made things harder on him by, well, only communicating half of what i was feeling all the time. ” 

what are you feeling about the decisions of the other islanders? who do you think has made the best connection?

“ i think it’ll be kind of crazy. like, seb and rhys totally want each other, but it could go either way – they seem like the type to friendship couple with the bombshells to ‘give them a chance’ or whatever. either way, i think it’s gonna be a shock for poor bash, ” naomi is curious to see how everyone from the other villa takes it, considering rhys and seb will be totally new to all of them. however, this is the drama that she’s most excited to watch pan out, because she’s pretty confident it’s going to work out for everyone involved anyway. “ i think . . . dante makes romi happy, ” naomi smiles placidly, not offering anything more than that. “ and honestly, jenny and jude seem kind of suited ? except for the fact that she’d fully drop him if josh decided to give her the time of day again, ” she suggests this matter-of-factly, like two plus two equals four. “ and, yeah, like i’ve told callie, i think her and angel seem really good together. he’s so into her, and i think they’re kind of on the same page about everything. i’m just not sure how much frankie coming back is going to shake that up, but . . . i like them. ” 

[raibebe]

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized​ who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?”   “Nope.”   “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.)   “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again.   You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now…   “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.”  You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe.   “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless.   “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.  

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: Wanda's boyfriend continues to be an aggravation in your life, causing some distance between you and Wanda

warning/s: none

author's note: i really appreciate the feedback you guys gave in the last part – it’s always motivating to read your reactions/comments 🥰

part one | part two | part four | part five | masterlist | wattpad

Sorting things out with Wanda made everything return to normal in no time. So much in fact that she decided I was worth inviting to her and her brother's birthday party.

Never in a million years did I expect the most popular girl in our grade to know who I was, let alone invite me to her birthday party, so to say I was surprised was an understatement.

"It's not a big deal if you can't make it," she said when she handed me the invitation in class. "I mean, I'd love it if you could, but yeah, no pressure."

I was in awe, accepting the invite and reading it quickly. It must have been a pretty expensive party if she was giving out special invites, that's for sure.

"You want me to come?" I asked, still unsure whether this was a joke or not.

"Only if you want to," she said quickly, eyes darting around the room and anywhere but at me. "Like I said, you don't have to. It's not a big deal and– I– yeah." She pressed her lips together and stopped rambling, offering me a small smile.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slotting the invite in my notebook. "I'll, er, I'll think about it."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and faced forward, nodding. "Yeah, sure, no rush."

After that awkward conversation, I discovered she'd also invited Y/BF/N, the two of them developing a little friendship the more she'd hung out with me. He didn't mind going, but only wanted to do so if I went.

"I feel like I kinda don't wanna go," I admitted to him after school as we were studying in the library.

"Oh?" He rose an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

I played with the pencil in my hand. "I don't know, it's just– it's gonna be full of all of her other friends. And they don't really like me. Plus, her dick of a boyfriend is gonna be there. I just think she might have invited me to be nice. Like she might have felt like she had to because we sit together, y'know?"

"I think you know that isn't true," he said knowingly. "Maybe, just maybe, she actually wants us there, wants you there, to celebrate her birthday."

I chewed the inside of my mouth, giving it some thought. But the idea of going to Wanda's house party and seeing a bunch of people I didn't care about getting pissed wasn't comforting. Besides, even if I went, I'd probably see Wanda once before she'd get scooped away by Nate. What was the point?

"Nah, I don't think I'm going," I decided. "She won't notice. I'll just get her a present instead."

Y/BF/N sighed, clearly not impressed with my answer. Nonetheless, he said, "Okay, suit yourself."

"You can go if you want," I added, knowing his presence wasn't linked with mine.

"No Y/N, no party," he said with a dismissive shrug, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Such a good friend," I said teasingly, but there was truth to my words. And I knew he knew that. 

When I saw photos and videos of Wanda and Pietro's party all over my social media the day after, I knew I'd made the right choice in not going. It was the same visuals of everyone getting drunk, doing stupid shit and making a mess. Call me a loser, but that wasn't really my scene. Pietro and Wanda both seemed to enjoy it though, judging from the pictures.

Instead, I bought her a birthday present, knowing I didn't have to but I kind of wanted to, and planned to give it to her when she turned up to class. It was her birthday today, despite throwing the party over the weekend, so I hoped it would make up for my absence (thought I doubted she noticed).

She showed up and settled beside me as I was writing the date in my notebook, making me look up to see she'd made an extra effort to dress up for her birthday, looking fancier than usual. I couldn't help but smile at the giant '18' birthday badge pinned to her jacket.

"Happy birthday, Wanda," was the first thing I said when I saw her. "You look amazing."

A bashful smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I hope your party went well," I said, giving her my full attention whilst trying not to drool over how beautiful she looked.

Surprisingly, her smile faded and her eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it did... could you not make it? I tried looking for you and– yeah..."

I opened my mouth to speak, admittedly a little embarrassed that she'd caught me out. I was sure she wouldn't notice – the pictures made it seem like there were loads of guests, I'd definitely have blended in if I were there – but clearly I was mistaken.

"I just thought–" she began, before shaking her head. "Never mind."

"Sorry, I thought–" I started, but like her, didn't know what to say. "Parties aren't my thing," I admitted truthfully. "But it looked fun. You enjoyed it, right?"

She nodded, a small forced smile on her lips. "Yeah, right. It's cool. No biggie."

I swallowed awkwardly. It seemed like a biggie and now I felt bad.

"I, er, got you a gift," I blurted, hoping to change the subject. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the terribly wrapped present and held it out nervously. "I hope you, er, like it."

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes flickered between the present and I. "Oh? You didn't have to. I wasn't expecting anything."

Was it hot in here or was it just me?

I pulled my collar away from my neck, hoping to circulate some air. "I wanted to. It's not a big deal."

She accepted the gift, fingers brushing mine and making me even more nervous, before opening it up. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she revealed a brand new leather paintbrush carry case.

"The one you always carry around is tattered and falling apart, so I thought I'd get you a new one," I explained, feeling like I had to. "I mean, unless the other one has some sort of sentimental value, then in that case, I can just return this."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" she exclaimed, looking to me with a grin. "It's beautiful, Y/N. I don't even know what else to say."

My shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile tugging at my lips. "Good. Th-that's good. I'm glad you like it."

Without warning, she moved forward off her stool and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I was startled, unable to think straight with her body pressed so close to mine and her floral perfume wafting into my nose. Why did she have to smell so good?

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling away but not quite letting go. Her eyes were glowing as they watched me carefully, accompanying her weak-in-the-knees smile. I was sure I'd melt. "It means a lot."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd say something stupid. I resisted the urge to look down at her lips, which were pulled into a small, appreciative smile. She let go of me, looking to the case again and unravelling it. I caught my breath meanwhile, my senses still on override as her perfume lingered.

She was just so damn beautiful.

—

"Okay, how about this – robotic or organic aliens. Which would you rather invade our planet?" Y/BF/N asked.

I chuckled at his question. "Definitely haven't thought about that one, but let's see..."

We were hanging in the bleachers out near the football field as we waited for football practice to end. Y/BF/N had a Film project to do and needed to film the field, so I offered to help like the good friend I was.

"Probably organic," I answered as I balanced on the bleachers, standing up and tiptoeing down them like steps. "At least we could reason with them if they tried to kill us because they'd have a conscience. Robotic aliens would just be programmed to take over and that's it."

Y/BF/N seemed against the idea as he played with his camera. "Yeah, but if they were robotic, all we'd have to do is launch a missile at them and they'd explode. You can break metal. It's harder to break organic matter."

I stifled a laugh. "You've given this much thought, I see."

He gave me a knowing look. "You telling me you don't think aliens exist?"

I stopped tiptoeing and stood still as I looked down at him with humoured eyes. "You know I know aliens exist."

He waved his hand like that was enough reasoning. "There you go then!"

I laughed, wondering how he thought of this stuff, then continued to balance as I walked down the bleachers. Probably the wrong choice as when I heard a voice call me, I looked up, saw it was Wanda, then proceeded to miss a step and fall onto my arse.

"Oh God, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, moving forward to help me.

My face heated up as Y/BF/N laughed his arse off beside me. I accepted Wanda's hand and let her pull me up, before letting go immediately when I could handle it myself. Her presence always made me nervous, but this was just terrible.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, glancing at her and freezing at her piercing gaze and suppressed smile.

"You sure?" she asked, glancing at Y/BF/N, before trying to hide her own laughter.

Fuck me, why was I such a mess whenever she was around?

"Very sure," I said, though my back began to ache from where I hit it. "What's up, anyway?"

Y/BF/N finally shut up, to my relief, and Wanda minimised her laughter before scratching her head.

"I'm waiting for practice to end so I can take Pietro home," she said, nodding to the field. "I saw you both sat here and thought I'd say hi. Are you guys watching practice?"

"Not really," I answered, before tilting my head to Y/BF/N. "We're just waiting for it to end so Y/BF/N can film for his project."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," she said, intrigued and looking to him now. "What's that about?"

As he caught her up on it, I found myself checking Wanda out without realising. She was animated as she listened to Y/BF/N talk about his assignment, eyes giving him all of her attention, and a permanent smile was fixed on her lips as she listened to him. Though it wasn't directed at me, I felt butterflies swirling a storm in my stomach and clutched it, hoping they'd go away. I loved and hated the feeling all at once.

Breaking me from my reverie, a football flew past all three of us and hit the bleachers, startling us all. We looked in the direction it came from and saw the football team looking back at us, some laughing and some disgruntled. Two players ran towards us and when they got close enough, I made them out as Pietro and Nate.

Nate was laughing as he looked between us all, before his gaze fell on me. "It's Y/N, right? I feel like I'm always throwing that thing at you. Sorry about that."

But his constant laughing and lack of guilt refuted his words. I merely clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes his way, not that he seemed to care nor notice. I was a mere fly in a world that revolved around him. He'd never notice.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't even know you were over here," he added, looking to Wanda. "You okay?"

Wanda crossed her arms and seemed frustrated. "I'm fine, Nate. Just get your ball."

He shrugged and grabbed his ball. Before leaving, he pressed a kiss to Wanda's cheek which made me wince, but she made no attempt in enjoying it. He didn't seem to care as he took off running back to his team. Pietro smiled apologetically at the three of us.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "He can be such a dick sometimes."

That was the understatement of the century.

With that, he turned and ran back to his team to finish up. Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as Y/BF/N and I exchanged glances.

"I should get the car running," she said awkwardly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and towards the car park. "Good luck with your assignment, Y/BF/N. And I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N."

Waving goodbye with an awkward smile, I watched her leave and wondered the same thing I always did whenever Nate decided to make an appearance in my life.

How could she be dating such a dick?

—

Apart from the birthday party I didn't go to, I'd never been invited (or had a reason to go) to Wanda's house. I'd seen it, rode my bike past it, but never actually been in it. So, when she invited me to her place to work on a project we'd been assigned in class, I was unsure how to feel. She was adamant though and I had no reason to say no, so the only thing left to do was say yes. Even when she offered to drive me there after school.

"This is your car?" I asked with disbelief.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars, but I wasn't blind. Hers was a gorgeous deep red colour with a convertible roof that was currently lowered so anyone in it would feel the sun on their back and wind in their hair.

"Yeah, you like it?" she asked as she got into the driver's seat.

I gulped and sat in the passenger's seat, throwing my backpack at my feet. "It's so nice. You sure you don't mind me drinking in this?"

I had a Pepsi bottle in my hand and was deathly afraid of opening it now in case I spilt it and the cleaning bill would be more than I made in a year at the pizza parlour.

She laughed, already pulling out of the car park. "Of course. Don't be silly."

I glanced in her direction, trying not to get distracted by how good she looked in the driver's seat. She was wearing a red leather jacket, funnily enough, matching the exterior of her car, and she had dark eyeliner around her eyes, accentuating the shape and colour of them and leaving me speechless whenever she looked my way.

"There's CDs in the glove compartment," she was saying as she focused on the road. "Or you can mess around with the radio. It's up to you."

"CDs?" I asked, it piquing my interest. I reached into the glove compartment, adding, "What is this, the 2000s?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, accepting my teasing, as I flicked through the small stack of albums.

"I don't know, I guess I just like having the physical version," she said with a shrug. "It's kind of like a collection."

I chuckled at her need to explain herself, watching the way she rubbed her neck nervously, smiling with embarrassment. Looking back to the albums, a particular one grabbed my attention and I plucked it out with raised brows.

"Oh my God, you like Paramore?" I asked, looking to her with surprise. "Now it's definitely the 2000s."

Her cheeks flushed as she grew flustered. I nudged her in the side gently, getting her attention briefly.

"I'm kidding," I reassured, tilting my head her way playfully. "I actually love Paramore. They're my favourite band."

"Really?" she asked with surprise as I put the CD in her car. I hummed in response, to which she continued, "Have you ever seen them live?"

As For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic played quietly in the background, I nodded my head. "Yeah, once. It was a few years ago, but the tickets were shitty and I could just about make them out on stage in the distance."

Wanda laughed, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "No, that's so sad!"

I chuckled in agreement. "Yeah. It was, but oh well. They have a tour coming up this summer, right? Maybe I can get better tickets this time 'round... what about you? Have you ever seen them live?"

She hummed, making a turn at some traffic lights and chewing her lower lip as she focused on doing so. It was definitely the wrong time, but I found myself admiring how attractive it was, especially when her jaw tensed and her defined jawline was on display.

"Yeah, I saw them a few times," she finally responded, pulling me from my stupor. "Some really good seats, some really shitty ones." She giggled at the end, making me smile. "Maybe we could go to that concert in the summer. If you're up for it?"

This seemed like one of those times where you made plans with a friend that you knew would never happen, so to not cause an awkwardness in the conversation, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, maybe."

She glanced at me and I mirrored her smile, the flash of excitement in her eyes knocking me breathless.

When we reached her house, I was awestruck at how big it was from the inside. I mean, it looked huge from the outside, but the inside was even better. Her family were rich, I knew that, but this was some other level of rich.

"Here, c'mon, I'll get you a drink, then we can go into the dining room to start," Wanda said, failing to recognise my amazement and instead leading me to the kitchen. "We have tropical juice, apple juice, water, Sprite, Cola... which d'you want?"

I settled at the island, taking a seat and subtly admiring her kitchen. "Er, apple juice is fine with me."

She smiled brightly before pouring me a glass, whilst pouring herself some Sprite. Standing opposite me, we both took a moment to have a drink, but didn't get chance to exchange words as her mum entered the room and noticed me instantly.

"Y/N, it's so lovely to see you again!" she said kindly, patting me on the shoulder before heading to the fridge. "You girls hanging out? Studying?"

"We have a project," Wanda filled in as I nodded in agreement. "We alright to claim the dining room?"

After grabbing some water from the fridge, Wanda's mum pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "Sure thing, sweetie. If you need anything, just let me know." Smiling once more at me, she said, "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"You too," I said with a friendly smile before she left.

"Come on," Wanda said, motioning for me to follow. "We have tons to do."

The next hour and a half was spent with Wanda and I planning out our project, our work sprawled along the dining table messily. We were making progress, until she got a call suddenly. It seemed serious as she gave me an apologetic glance and excused herself. I let her go and leaned back in my seat, wondering what I could do as I waited for her to return. That thought was resolved quite quickly when Pietro popped his head in the doorway and spotted me.

"Y/N! What an honour to welcome you to our humble abode," he exclaimed, entering the room fully. "What brings you here?"

Pietro's presence always brought an amused smile to my lips. "Wanda and I are working on a Chemistry project. She's just nipped out for a phone call."

He tutted dramatically, crossing his arms. "Well, well, well. We can't have that! Wanda needs to learn to entertain her guests. C'mon. I was about to head to the gaming room and could use the company."

I was visibly surprised. "You have a gaming room? Dude, that's awesome!"

He laughed. "C'mon."

Joining Pietro, the two of us headed to this so-called gaming room and I was not disappointed. There was a huge TV with a PlayStation and Nintendo Switch connected to it, a snooker table, a foosball table, a dart board, some old arcade games – it was amazing, any gamer's biggest dream.

"What you feeling, princess?" he said with that flirtatious smile of his.

I rolled my eyes playfully. He was being overtly flirty, more so than his sister was – was it a Maximoff personality trait or something? – and I wasn't sure whether he meant it or was just being his usual self.

"Are you flirting?" I deadpanned, tilting my head curiously. "I can't tell."

He pocketed his hands, swinging back on the heels of his feet. "That depends. Is it working?"

Despite my lack of interest in him like that, I felt my face heat up at the attention. "Pietro, I must tell you that any moves you attempt to make kind of won't work."

"And why's that?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the snooker table with a cheeky smile on his lips. "Am I not your type?"

"Unless you change into a girl, then no," I played along, making him flush with embarrassment. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm gay."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense," he mumbled to himself, before sighing and meeting my eyes. "We can still be friends, right? Or is that forbidden since you're already friends with my sister?"

I laughed and approached him. "Friends works. I don't think Wanda will care. I certainly don't."

He grinned. "Awesome! Well, d'you wanna play a round of foosball?"

"Sure," I said with an amused expression. "Bet I can kick your arse."

He pushed himself off the table and feigned surprise. "Oh? Game on, Y/L/N."

I didn't realise how long Wanda had been on the phone until I managed to get through three rounds of foosball and was in the middle of a snooker game with Pietro.

"You may have beat me at foosball, but you're terrible at this," he pointed out with stifled laughter.

I'd missed my third shot and it was more funny than it was embarrassing.

"Your talking distracts me," I said dismissively, before lining up the next shot with my cue.

He watched as I tried to take my shot before sighing loudly. I glanced at him with a quirked brow.

"You have a thought you'd like to share?" I asked playfully.

He hesitated, moving forward to correct my posture. "Look, if you just aim it like this–"

"Don't even think about it, Romeo," I said jokingly, standing up straight and pushing him away gently. "I know what you're thinking."

He laughed. "What? I was just going to help you aim!"

I gave him a knowing look. "So holding me close is just a bonus?"

"Fine, take your shot without my help and see what happens," he said dismissively, waving his hand.

"I'll do just that," I said with confidence, before bending down and taking my shot. The ball hit the other and neither were pocketed, which was an achievement as I'd got the cue ball in several times before, but still pretty shit as I didn't score any points.

Pietro smiled with satisfaction, leaning on his cue. "You happy with that?"

I held in a laugh as I looked to him. "Shut up."

He chuckled before bumping me out the way. "Now for the professional."

Bending down to take his shot, he pulled back his cue before hitting the balls. They rolled around on the table and one ball was about to go in, but I quickly grabbed it before he could get the point.

"Y/N!" he shouted between laughter. "That's cheating!"

"Technically we didn't establish rules," I pointed out, before moving backwards as he tried to grab it from my hand. "What do you say to calling it a draw and playing something else?"

"I say that's a childish way to admit you've lost," he responded, before moving forward quickly. I dodged his attempt and he pursed his lips. "Y/N."

"Pietro."

He smirked. "Seriously?"

I grinned.

He tried to grab it again and ended up chasing me around the room as I avoided giving in. Taking the piss out of Y/BF/N enough times had prepared me for moments like this, so I was able to avoid Pietro long enough to run into whoever walked through the door.

"Shit, Wanda, I'm sorry," I said between laughter, steadying both me and her.

She smiled with confusion, about to speak, but Pietro caught up to me and lifted me up, throwing me onto the couch before I could protest.

"No more cheating," he said sternly, as I lifted my head from the pile of cushions on the couch to look up at him.

"You're an arse," I said, pushing myself up off the couch.

"And you're a sore loser!"

We had a mini staring competition before the two of erupted into laughter.

"You're not half bad, Pietro," I complimented as he helped me up.

"Thank you, princess," he said, the flirtatious smile on his lips again.

I shoved him in the shoulder playfully before looking to Wanda, who was chewing on her lip as she looked between Pietro and I with an unreadable expression.

"So, what prompted you to leave Y/N alone for an hour?" Pietro asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, making me shove him away. He grinned at me before looking to Wanda.

"Nate called," Wanda responded carefully, arms crossed as she continued to look between us. God, I hoped she didn't think Pietro and I liked each other. That would be embarrassing.

Pietro scoffed from beside me, making Wanda sigh with annoyance.

"Don't start, Piet," she said and gave him a look which he seemed to understand.

By the sounds of it, Pietro didn't seem to like Wanda's dick of a boyfriend either. That was strange since wasn't impressing the brother the first part of being in a relationship with someone? And they were on the same football team, so I figured he'd at least tolerate him.

"Are we alright to get back to studying?" Wanda asked, directing her stare to me. The annoyance she held for Pietro was still present in her eyes and I suddenly felt nervous when she looked my way.

"Yeah, of course," I said, before giving Pietro a half-smile. "Rematch at snooker next time. Sound good?"

"Try to keep the balls on the table and we'll see," he teased, before nodding to Wanda. "You should get back to your project before Wanda kills us both with her deadly glare."

I smiled awkwardly, looking back to Wanda as she was indeed glaring at her brother. Clearly there was some sibling rivalry going on here, and I definitely didn't want to get in the middle of it, so I headed to Wanda, signalling I was ready to leave.

The two of us headed back to the dining room in an uncomfortable silence. I felt like I'd done something wrong and she was giving me the silent treatment which was strange. Then I figured it was probably something with Nate that made her annoyed, so didn't question it too much.

We sat back down and I looked at what we'd done so far to try and pick up where we left off, but then she spoke out of the blue, taking me by surprise.

"Do you like my brother?"

It was so abrupt that I took a moment to acknowledge it, blinking. "What?"

"Pietro," she clarified, saying it with such dismissiveness like it wasn't a big deal. Her attention was on the books before us as she continued, "Do you like him?"

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. "No, Wanda. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a great guy. But yeah, no, I don't like him like that."

She chewed her lip, nodding, but I swear I saw a hint of a smile on her lips. I hoped it wasn't the thought of Pietro and I that made her annoyed. I wasn't that bad, was I? I know she cared about her brother and was probably overprotective, but me being his girlfriend couldn't have been that bad, right?

We got back to work in no time, getting a lot done. I didn't realise how late it was getting until Wanda's mum poked her head in, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner.

"Dinner?" I asked, eyebrows raising with surprise. I checked my watch and realised how long I'd been here. "Damn, maybe I should head back."

"Nonsense, you must stay," her mum insisted. "Y/M/N won't mind. A daughter of hers is a daughter of mine."

"You can even sleepover if you want," Wanda offered, and I almost choked on my own spit. "It's getting pretty late."

I shook my head, forcing a small smile so they wouldn't get offended. "Honestly, it's fine. I can head back."

"Please?" Wanda asked with a hopeful expression. "It's the least I can do. I kinda wasted your time for an hour earlier..."

"I should ask my mum," I said, chewing on the inside of my mouth.

"Oh, I'll ring and let her know," Wanda's mum said breezily, before looking to Wanda. "D'you think you can clear your things up? Your brother is gonna set the table."

"Sure, mum." Wanda smiled her way as she left, before looking to me. "I've got clothes and a spare toothbrush you can use tonight."

I smiled awkwardly, nodding. Sleeping over at my crush's house wasn't how I thought I'd be spending my Wednesday evening, yet here we were.

[wingzie]

Brutally Honest Reactions to Jikook

It was requested on Twitter that I talk about the less positive posts about Jikook moments from my live reactions research. These will NOT include any screenshots, but I will discuss what I saw. I will continue to keep posting positive things about Jikook, but the fandom reaction towards Jikook is one of the reasons why I feel so strongly about supporting them so much. Please read ahead if you are interested. I will also keep it out of the Jikook tag.

I will quickly add my own experience here before I continue. I am an early 2019 ARMY. I didn't follow any BTS accounts on Twitter until after I caught up on content. I then started following Jikook accounts once I got braver, because I could see a clear difference in the way the fandom talked about them. (Or not at all in some cases.) It wasn't until I started following Jikook accounts, that I knew about GCF Tokyo. For a fandom that hyped up Jungkook being a director for LGO, his previous work and especially GCFT is rather ignored. Especially when it's obvious that Jungkook has always had an interest in making videos. 

GCFT

An important factor here is that GCFT was posted after Jimin's lovely twitter edit. From what I saw, no one had any real issues with Jimin's edit. The general consensus was that it was sweet that Jimin and Jungkook were finally able to go on a trip together and that Jimin made an edit out of it. But if that's the case, why were there then issues when GCFT was posted, that are still here today?

Compared to Jimin's edit, there is a clear sense of jealousy when GCFT was released. A "sweet trip" turned into a "not big deal" or started to include fake narratives. Some of which really confused me at first, until I asked someone at the time and got the truth. 

There is a sudden change of tone aimed towards Jikook: “How dare they go on a trip together?” and “how dare they share it with us this way?.”  It's clear to me that this jealously suddenly began because of the editing style, the camera shots and the song used. All of which made you feel a certain way when watching GCFT, if you were not so blind or bitter. However, the fandom did it's best to try to belittle JK's work. Saying excuses such as the song was not intentional or that the editing choices were coincidental. That's not the case at all and to quote a certain song "this is no coincidence."

There is an interesting notion that some shippers and y/n's turned to fan fictions after GCFT was released. This suggests to me that they did indeed in fact feel the same way about GCFT. They got the message loud and clear, but had to try to tune it out with another fantasy because of what they felt. They wanted what Jimin and Jungkook had for themselves or another member.

GCF's after GCFT

After GCFT there was a need to show: "look Jimin and Jungkook aren't that close." Which Jikook didn't get the memo of and it shows that people were keeping an eye on them. However, this was only to be able justify their negative thoughts about the possibility of two men being together. They couldn't stand the idea and came up with every excuse possible to deny it. There were a fair amount of “don’t assume their sexuality” posts floating around.

There was also a definite shift after GCFT with Jikooker’s themselves. Of course they were supportive, but much more discreet about it. Afterwards though ,and up through to today, they got louder about Jimin and Jungkook's bond. It's clear this reflects in the fandom perception of them together as a unit or just on the timeline itself. There is almost an annoyance whenever they show up.

The newer GCF’s turned more into a competition between the members. Something which sadly continued even with the Life Goes On MV. Rather than seen as a cute maknae trip in Osaka, GCFO was used as leverage against Jikook to prove that they weren't that close. Which is bizarre in itself and it was like Jimin wasn't in the video at all.

The outrage that sparked when GCFH was released showed the true hypocrisy of the fandom. Jungkook set the tone beautifully to match the Winter Package location of Helsinki. The fact so many quickly jumped on this, but ignored his skills previously is very telling. For all those yelling about appreciating Jungkook, they only yell when it's about making themselves feel better about something. 

Rose Bowl. I don't need to introduce this. However what I found interesting is that people outside of ARMY were more accepting of what happened than actual ARMY.  It also made me question what the definition of "ot7" is,  because these accounts were going around underneath posts with "stop shipping”, “they're just bros" or my most hated one "they do stuff like this in South Korea all the time."

The last one is an absolute hate of mine and is always used by NON Koreans. ARMY are often all about Korean culture until it's something they don't want to hear or know about. A general translation account has already pointed out that Jikook are extremely close due to lack of honorifics and it moe or less got ignored. Another account will mention the same , but for another unit, and it's worshiped to high heaven. Yet Jikooker’s are delusional for being the ones to understand the cultural significance of it?

Jungkook's Birthday in 2019

I am actually going to be calling out Jikooker’s here because the reverse happened this time. Others found Jimin’s Birthday video sweet, whereas Jikooker’s were being extremely rude and disrespectful ON the timeline towards Jimin about it. Plus the usual "Jikook broke up" malarkey that pops up twice a month happened. I only recently started researching this and I’m not even sure I can make a thread on it, because there was so much fighting on the Timeline about the Birthday video.

This is what spurred me on to write my twitter post about being careful about what you post and where your priorities lie. A lot of Jikooker’s were upset before Jimin posted. Not because "he hasn't posted.”, but because "he hasn't posted [for me]." 

This is something that Jikooker’s have to wrap their heads around. We only see a tiny percentage of their daily lives. They also have each other's phone number and see each other daily. They also know each other extremely well and probably better than any of us actually will. It is not up to us what they post or what we see. Do we miss them? Of course. However, to instantly start hating them for that is wrong. You're acting just like the fandom first did when GCFT came out. These same people also acted like nothing had happened as soon as Jimin posted the photo of Jungkook later on.

Seoul Final

For those that don't remember Rose, she was a k-army translator that went to Seoul Final. In one of her live shows afterwards, she explained how other Karmy were surprised by Jikook's closeness on stage. It wasn't just us.

However ,on Naver, there was a storm brewing about Jimin treating Jungkook inappropriately and the way they were acting on stage. This was first started by Jungkook akages and then spread around to some of the fandom who decided to jump in. 

This is one example of people using K-army as a weapon. That they know *best* when they suffer the same on their side with solos etc... It's also another example of the hatred towards Jimin. 

This isn't something new. Shipping was fairly peaceful and kept its original definition of wanting two people to be together. Even if this did include two real people. It wasn't until the definition of shipping morphed into something new and possibly real, that things started to erupt in the fandom. And this eruption was sadly placed onto Jimin, as people saw him as a disruption to their fantasies. 

This defamation of both Jimin and Jungkook's character from the fandom has been present since the beginning. They are seen as liars or not intelligent. That their closeness is fake, even though you can clearly see it from the start and then develop over the years. It's something that has always been beautiful to witness whilst watching, old content and new.

These examples of fandom reactions I have used are ones all related to expectations. If Jimin and Jungkook do not act as expected or they shock the fandom, one side will react negatively. The fandom also do not seem to like seeing Jikook be so loud, so to speak. And with the emergence of more Jikooker’s on social media, this horrid view of them will no doubt increase  Though many hate the term Jikook. It signifies the unit of Jimin and Jungkook and no matter what, they will do what they want too and continue to do so. Thank you for reading and feel free to ask questions if you have any!

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

More Than A Friend

Summary: A weekend trip with Carol leads you to realize you might like her a little more than you'd thought.

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 6,194

You crept into the bar. It was a rowdy place, even this early in the evening. Your eyes scanned the crowd, taking in all the different people that were scattered throughout the room. The football game was playing on the TV, but unfortunately, it wasn't really your sport. Finally, your eyes landed on a blonde sitting at the bar. You moved toward her, a smirk on your face. You didn't even bother to slide into the seat next to her.

Your hand touched her hip and your lips were right next to her ear when you spoke. "What's a beautiful thing like you doing all alone here?"

She startled a little, whipping to face you. When she saw you, though, she smacked you away, an unamused expression taking over the surprised look she'd had a minute ago. You slid onto the stool next to her, eyes watching as the bartender held up a single finger to indicate he'd be over to you in a moment. You only nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to the girl beside you, the smirk still on your lips.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" She rolled her eyes.

"Come off it, Care-bear, you love me."

"Christ, I hate when you call me that."

"I apologize, oh Captain, my captain."

The bartender arrived and prevented her from retaliating. You didn't even bother looking back at her as you ordered your drink of choice, glancing up at the football game that you didn't care about in order to not look at Carol. She finally snorted and bumped her shoulder against yours. It made you look back at her, unable to keep a smile from forming on your face when she gave you a hearty wink. She laughed.

"How was work?"

You shrugged. "People are idiots."

When you were sixteen, you'd worked a retail job where you'd learned just how stupid people really were. You'd learned that fully-grown adults had nothing better in their lives to do than yell at teenaged, minimum wage workers during their spare time for nothing more than a minor inconvenience. When you'd become an Avenger, you thought that would stop. You were incorrect. You might not have been a teenaged retail worker anymore, but people found a reason to lose their temper anyway- even right after you'd saved their life.

"That good, huh?" She chuckled.

"Are people nicer on other planets, Care-bear? Take me with you?"

"They're not, no," Carol huffed, sipping from her glass. "And the drinks don't taste as good."

You wondered what she was drinking that she seemed to be enjoying so much. It was colourful, and had, at this point, piqued your interest. You reached out and snatched from where it sat in front of her on the bar. You sniffed it first. It was something fruity, that was all you could figure. Finally, you dared raise the glass to your lips. The second the liquid touched your tongue you felt like you might overdose on sugar and sweetness.

"Oh, my God, Carol!" You exclaimed, setting the drink back down on the bar top and sliding it to her. "What the hell is that?"

"She got it extra sweet," the bartender said as he walked by. "Your friend's got a sugar addiction."

It didn't seem to bother her at all. While you felt you could puke from the sugar content alone, she was sipping it happily. You rolled your eyes at her, reaching for your own drink, much preferring the taste of it. Carol turned to you suddenly, the straw still between her lips. You watched as she lowered it back down, using the same straw to stir the drink around, the ice clinking off the side of the glass as she did. She sipped it again.

"What's our weekend plans, then?" Carol asked finally.

"Who says I have plans with you?"

"Oh, please. You practically begged me to come stay on Earth for a weekend."

"I did absolutely no such thing."

You absolutely did do that. Carol was away from Earth more often than not and you missed her. It wasn't like it was a crime to. So, you'd phoned her up and asked her over and over to come spend just one weekend on Earth with you. She'd finally agreed on the eighth ask, and now here you sat; on the right of the girl you'd missed so dearly, teasing her relentlessly about whatever that abomination was swirling around in her glass.

"We're taking my new car on a little road trip," you finally gave, sipping your drink. "Music, fast-food, and deep talks on the interstate."

"Snacks?"

"Snacks too," you promised with a chuckle. "And we can get a nice motel room or pitch a tent at night. Whichever you please."

You had to laugh at the smile that had crept over her face. The way she giggled in excitement, you had to wonder if it'd just been too long since her last day off or if the alcohol had gotten to her already. She waved the bartender lever as she finished hers. He placed a new one in front of her, and she thanked him quickly, bringing it close and immediately bringing the straw between her lips. You wondered whether the sugar or alcohol content would hospitalize her quicker.

"So, when do we leave?" She chirped.

"In the morning. Don't drink too much. You'll get hungover and I want to actually have fun."

She stuck her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes in response, finishing your own drink and then declining another. You didn't want to be hungover when you were the one driving the two of you around. The bartender brought you a pop instead. You sipped on it, watching a bar-goer stumbled over with a drunk grin on his face and tapped Carol on the shoulder. He said something you didn't quite hear, but you saw Carol nod. He took her hands and dragged her onto the dance floor. You brought her drink toward you.

Carol was a flirt. She always had been. She was a flirt with you, your teammates, and strangers. She was also gay. This dance with this guy didn't mean much to her. You weren't sure if it even meant much to him. You couldn't be sure that he'd even remember this dance. He was absolutely wasted, and it wasn't even midnight. Regardless, he seemed to be enjoying it. His eyes travelled up and down Carol's body and you squeezed the glass in your hand a little tighter. You were protective of her, despite knowing she could absolutely hold her own.

When the song finished, she winked at him, retreating back to your spot at the bar. She finished up her drink and then insisted the two of you head back to your place and that you were right: she didn't want to be nursing a hangover while you were supposed to be having a good time. You paid the bartender and then linked your arm with hers, leading her out the door and onto the streets. She glanced up at the tall buildings around her. A smile had formed on her face.

"You don't appreciate how beautiful this place is."

You glanced up at the glowing buildings that towered above you and marvelled, for a moment, at the soft light that radiated off them. Your gaze was tugged downward, though, at a rustling noise. You were snapped back into the reality of your city as you watched a rat scurry along the curb of the sidewalk in the direction opposite you. You chuckled at that, motioning to it as you looked up to catch Carol's bright gaze.

"Surely some of those planets are far more beautiful than this."

She shrugged. "Some, maybe. Some are worse. Some are kind of alike to this. This has always been my favourite, though."

You might have understood that if Carol had taken the time to visit the actual beautiful parts of the Earth. But she was always in the city. She'd never gone to stare in amazement at a waterfall or glance at towering mountains. She had never seen the true beauties of this Earth, and you promised in that moment to change that fact. If she thought New York City was beautiful, she would be blown off her feet by the things you showed her.

"One day, Carol, I'll show you the actual beautiful things on this Earth."

"You're pretty beautiful yourself."

You smacked her. That was her flirty side coming out once again. It didn't mean anything. It never had. So, you wondered what that strange flutter in your chest was when she said the words. You ignored it, passing it off as a longing for a meaningful relationship. You hadn't had one of those in a while now. You probably just wanted someone to say those words to you and mean it. You made a mental note to sign up for an online dating site after the weekend had passed. It was too hard to meet people in your line of work without them.

"Yeah, I know," was all you gave in response.

When you glanced over at her, she had a grin on her face.

It wasn't long until you'd reached your apartment building. You smiled at the front desk as you entered the lobby and immediately made for the elevator. You pressed the button to the seventh floor and waited patiently for the doors. You knew Carol was suppressing a squeal of glee when they arrived. She usually just flew everywhere. Using simple inventions like this one had always gotten her more excited than the average person. To anyone else, an elevator was just a boring elevator.

"Can I do it?" She asked as you pulled out your key.

Carol really was just like a child, in a sense. Everything was so advanced out in space that these were the things she enjoyed doing. You pointed out the bronze key and watched her run ahead. She practically skipped the distance to your apartment door. She pushed the key into the lock and turned it, glancing back at you and smiling widely when the door pushed open. You smiled affectionately as you took the key back from her.

She may not have visited Earth overly often, but every time she did, she visited your apartment. Resultantly, she knew her way around. She knew, as well, that you didn't mind in the slightest if she made herself at home. She slid her shoes off and jumped onto the couch, pulling the blanket down over top of her and snuggling into it. You actually took a photo of the sight before you moved into the room behind her, lifting her legs, sitting on the couch, and then dropping them back over your lap.

"Can we watch a movie?" Carol asked, pleading gaze turning to you.

You showed her the remote you'd been reaching for. "Already on it, Captain Danvers."

"I take it back," she giggled, tossing her head back so that it hit the armrest. "That's worse. You can call me-"

"Aw, my Care-Bear!" You laughed, shifting your position so you could throw your arms around her shoulders.

Carol grunted at the impact against her torso. Once you settled, though, she breathed a little easier. You were both squished against one side of the couch, now, but the closeness was nothing new to you. You still had the remote in hand, and aimed it at the TV, managing to get it to Netflix. You flicked on a random horror movie, setting the remote back down on the coffee table in front of you. You nestled back into the cushions.

It had always amused you how jumpy Carol got when she watched horror movies. She was a literal superhero that fought literal aliens all the night and day and yet a ghost jumping out of a darkened corridor had her cringing away from the TV screen and pulling the blanket further up her body as if in an attempt to protect her. She would always adamantly deny it if you ever brought it up later. You would never show her the picture you had of her, fuzzy blue blanket pulled all the way up to her nose, eyes wide, as she watched The Conjuring. She would delete it off your phone as you slept.

Today, though, her nerves seemed to be calmed somewhat by the cup of tea she had clasped between her hands. She looked entirely content, sitting cross-legged on the couch with that same fuzzy blanket draped over her lap and a grey, ceramic mug warming her palms. The alcohol had clearly gotten to her a little, you realized, as you watched her eyelids droop every once in a while. The corner of your mouth tilted upward ever so slightly. She was wide awake a moment later.

It was a sudden jump scare. Even being half asleep, Carol was still paying attention. So, when the TV boomed and there was a flash and a scream, she jumped. The tea that she'd been holding in her lap sloshed over the edges, a large amount of liquid soaking into the couch cushions. You were out of your seat in an instant, reaching for the remote to pause. Carol was apologizing profusely, jumping to her feet and following you to the kitchen.

"It's okay, Carol. It's fine," you chuckled, wetting a dish towel and grabbing some paper towels. "Hey, it's fine. Really. Chill out."

Carol seemed hesitant to do that. When you lightheartedly flicked the wet towel at her, though, she finally smiled taking the paper towel out of your hand and heading back to the living room, pressing the paper towel into the couch and absorbing as much of the liquid as she could. When she'd finished, you used the wet rag to clean the beverage out. As you tossed the paper towel away and threw the dishrag into the kitchen sink, you stood back and took a look at the large wet spot on the couch.

"Guess we're moving to my room, then. Let's go, Care-Bear."

Carol nodded. She trod behind you into the bedroom, where you flopped onto the bed. She was lagging behind and you waved her onward to hurry her up. She finally jumped onto the bed and sat next to you, sliding her legs underneath the covers. You turned on the small TV in your room and resumed the movie you'd been watching. In the soft comfort of the bed, though, it seemed the tug for sleep was greater. Carol's eyes finally fluttered shut and she lay down against the pillows. You chuckled, turning off the movie.

You, unlike your friend, hadn't fallen asleep involuntary. You were able to head to the bathroom and brush your teeth before yawning tiredly and deciding to join. You padded back into the room, climbed under the covers, shut off the lights, and lay your head onto your own pillow. You smiled once at Carol's sleeping figure before you shut your eyes, letting sleep take you.

*

As hard as you tried to convince her, you weren't able to get Carol to stick her head back inside the sunroof. You weren't sure how to breeze was so exhilarating to her. The superhuman could fly faster than your car was going right now. The wind in her hair had to be a familiar feeling at this point. Plus, there were no laws against flying above the interstate to feel the wind in your hair. There were, however, laws about standing with your entire torso stuck out the roof of the car.

You'd given up a while ago. If she fell out, she'd be just fine. If she got you a ticket? Oh, there would be serious hell to pay. She'd agreed to that already. You'd honestly be surprised, though, if she did get ticketed. It'd be quite a sight to see: a measly police officer ticketing the Human-Kree Hybrid superhero. That sight alone might actually be worth the fine you would have to pay. By the time she'd pulled her head back in, though, blonde hair windblown and a smile plastered to her face, you'd yet to see a single cop.

"Have fun?" You asked, doing up the sunroof.

"Absolutely. You should try."

"Do you know how to drive?" You scoffed.

"I can fly a ship."

"Yeah, I'm sure UFO controls are much different than cars so I'm gonna have to politely ask you to stay the hell away from my car."

Carol only stuck her tongue out at you. She still didn't do her seatbelt up yet. She twisted her body so that she could reach into the back seat. You turned back to the road, but when you shot a second glance at her a few seconds later, she was popping open a can of Pringles with a large grin on her face. She bit down onto a chip with a giggle before turning the can to you. You reached into it with one hand and took a small handful of them, setting them down on the centre console for easier access.

"Where are we staying tonight?" Carol asked through a mouthful of chips.

"A campground up in a small town in Ontario," you hummed. "It's still a good few hours away. I'd ask if you wanted to stop for food, but I'd guess you've filled up on snacks."

She dug through her backpack. "Do I need this?"

She held up the passport you'd made her get last time the two of you had headed up to Toronto. Despite the fact that she really wasn't a citizen of the United States... or even of Earth, you'd managed to get S.H.I.E.L.D. to make you an exception for Carol. It was the perks of being an Avenger, and a close friend of Nick Fury, you supposed. To answer her question, you simply nodded your head as you reached for the Gatorade in your cup holder. She stuck the papers back into her bag.

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

The question almost made you spit the red beverage onto the steering wheel. It wasn't that you and Carol had never talked about it. She was one of your closest friends, after all. She was the first one you'd called when you'd realized your feelings for your last girlfriend, and she was the first one you'd called when you'd broken up. Carol wasn't someone you didn't talk about your love life with. It was just that it was completely and entirely out of the blue. It didn't help that the answer was still no, even after the long period of time since she'd last asked it.

You'd tried to assure yourself that you were just busy with work. It wasn't a lie. You'd been busy as hell ever since Loki's sceptre had inexplicably gone missing after the Battle in New York. But it wasn't just that, you knew full well. Something seemed to be wrong with your brain, or maybe your heart. Maybe it was just that your standards were practically in the clouds, but no one seemed attractive to you anymore. Not even the girl Natasha had tried to set you up with (and you were well convinced that Natasha only knew attractive people).

"Not at the moment, no," you finally admitted. "You?"

"On-and-off," she shrugged. "Just a girl from a planet called Xandar."

A pang of jealousy struck your chest. You were carving something- anything. You would've given anything even for something on-and-off just about now. Had it really been that long? You could hardly believe you were jealous of her. It wasn't like you to be jealous of something someone else had. You were supposed to be happy for her, not sulking over your own lack of a love life... or sex life. You forced a smile at her, wishing it could be real.

"Oh, yeah? Tell me about her."

"Not too much to tell," Carol said, biting down on a potato chip. "She's cute, funny, sweet. A little younger than me, but most people are," she chuckled as she glanced over at you. You plastered a phone smile back onto your lips and forced a laugh from your chest. "Her name's Alya."

You almost grumbled, but managed to bite your tongue on time. You resorted to ripping open a packet of gummy bears in order to keep your mouth full and therefore unable to make any snarky comments. Carol didn't seem to notice that, only reaching over and grabbing a green bear out of the bag. Though you might have been a little frustrated, you let her. It wasn't her fault that you were touch-starved and desperate.

"You know, we could spend this trip trying to find you a girlfriend," Carol grinned, tossing a candy into the air and catching it in her mouth.

"No," you denied immediately. You didn't need for her to see how weird your head was being right now. You were certain there was no one she could find that would be able to snap you out of this strange state of no one being attractive to you, yet craving someone. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend in Ontario."

"What's wrong with girls from Ontario?" Carol teased.

She'd been to Ontario once before. She'd pointed out that, though they may have dressed a little different and talked a little different, the girls from Ontario were just as attractive as the girls from New York. You'd had to point out that, at the time, she'd had a girlfriend. With Carol's ogling at girls on Earth, clearly, she and the girlfriend hadn't been working out well. They'd broken up two weeks later, leaving them both a little hurt, but not beyond repair. Even still, they saw each other for lunch or for a drink, but just as friends. It was admirable; the respect they had retained for one another.

"Nothing is wrong with girls from Ontario," you huffed. "I'm just not in the mood. This is supposed to be our weekend."

"What if I want to spend our weekend finding you a girl?"

"I don't. Drop it," you finally snapped.

Immediately guilt rushed to settle in the pit of your stomach. You readjusted your grip on the steering wheel as your gaze refused to leave the road in front of you. You didn't want to glance over at the frown that had surely taken the place of that infectious smile you loved so dearly. You definitely didn't want to look at it knowing that you were the cause of it. Carol was so incredibly joyful all the time and that was one of the things you loved about her. To be the one who had taken that joy from her, even momentarily, broke your heart.

"I'm sorry," you muttered.

She didn't answer that.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you tried to focus on driving instead of picturing the frown that was probably tugging at each of Carol's features. You wished you could actually physically kick yourself for what you'd done. She didn't deserve you snapping at her like that. She hadn't done anything wrong. You were just being pissy for reasons you weren't sure even you quite understood. You finally turned to her, but she was looking out the window.

"Look, Carol-"

"Hey, don't worry. Sorry I pushed."

You didn't deserve Carol Susan Jane Danvers one single bit. She deserved more than the world and you swore right then you'd work every moment to give that to her. Despite how you'd treated her for reasons she couldn't possibly have understood, when she turned to you, she was still smiling. As always, her smile put a smile on your face too. You turned away from those soft brown eyes to glance back at the road in front of you.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped. I just... it's a long story, Care-Bear."

"We've got a long ride ahead of us," she tried.

"I don't know that I'm feeling like talking about it right this second," you admitted.

She seemed to accept that. You felt her touch your arm with her hand. Warmth seemed to rush from her touch, up your arms, and into your chest. How one person could instill such comfort into you amazed you. She said a few soft words to you that you didn't quite hear, but you felt you might not need to. You knew they were words of comfort. Just that knowledge was enough to put a smile onto your face. Your eyes flickered from her to the road.

"No problem," Carol chimed. Then, without missing a single beat, she changed the subject. "Hey, which bag did you put the Fuzzy Peaches in?"

"The green backpack."

Just like that, it was easy again. Carol didn't let you linger on just how upset you were for more than a second. She practically dived into the back seat for the backpack, reappearing with the orange package in her hand. She plopped back down into her seat, still refused to put her seatbelt on, and ripped the package open. She reached out and turned up the music when one of your favourite songs came on. You wondered if she knew that.

*

"No! That piece goes over here!" You insisted.

Carol frowned and handed you the long pole.

Pitching a tent with an alien who hadn't even known was a tent was, up until five minutes ago, was not easy. She'd practically rolled herself up like a burrito in the rain fly right after nearly putting the stakes directly through the floor to pin the tent down. You'd been guiding her, preventing any damage from coming to it. She was listening intently, making sure she did everything exactly how you said. She stuck the peg through the guy line and looked at you.

"Like that?"

"Yeah. Perfect. I think we're just about done, Care-Bear."

At that, she unzipped the door, diving through it into the empty tent. You reached into the trunk of your car, throwing the many pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags through behind her, not caring much where they landed. When you finally shut the door and ducked into the tent, Carol was beneath the large pile, peering out from where only the top half of her face was visible. You had to chuckle, grabbing one of the blankets and pulling it over her face.

Carol insisted she set up. She had you sit aside by the door, munching happily on a small bowl of popcorn as you watched. She carefully unzipped the sleeping bags and lay them down on the floor, putting the pillows atop them, and then the two comforters stacked on top of each other on top of that. When she finally finished, she gestured proudly to her completed setup. You raised an eyebrow.

"We both sleeping there?"

She nodded. "It's cold."

You had to give her that. You were practically shivering just from waiting for her to finish. The sun had dipped beyond the horizon at this point, the darkness of night did nothing to heat up the air around you. You clambered under the blankets, careful not to drop any of the popcorn you still held. You placed it next to you, letting Carol reach over and grab some as she, too, climbed into the makeshift bed. She popped a piece into her mouth.

"Up to talking about it yet?"

It was a genuine question. Carol wasn't pushy. That was something you could tell by her tone. She had waited patiently and was continuing to wait for you to be ready to talk about what you needed to talk about. She didn't want you bottling it up, but she didn't want to pressure you. She was able to do that. You glanced down at the red blanket that covered your legs, pondering her question for a moment. Then you nodded your head yes.

"I just haven't felt myself recently," you shrugged. "I would like to get out there and find someone, no doubt. Recently, though, it's like my standards are unmeetable. No one seems even remotely appealing to me."

"No one at all?"

"Nat tried to set me up with her Russian model friend," you said, turning to Carol with a grin finally on your lips.

"Nothing?" Carol said, an exaggerated amount of shock on her face. "You must be broken."

You shoved her. She chuckled; the offensive action having done nothing. She was inhumanly strong. If you'd decided to punch her, you likely would've broken your hand against her. She shoved you back, only lightly, so you moved a few inches away from her. She stuck her hand back into the popcorn bowl as you shuffled back into your place beside her. She was chewing thoughtfully, and you didn't dare interrupt her with the very focused expression on her face.

"Do you already like someone? That usually takes away the appeal of anyone else."

You stopped to think about that. You knew that could be the case. In eleventh grade when you'd had a crush on Adelaide Artenbaker, you'd suddenly failed to find anyone else attractive at all. Of course, Adelaide had eventually rejected you on account that she was straight as an arrow. It wasn't malicious. She'd actually given you a kiss on the cheek and assured you that, if she discovered wasn't, she'd let you know. It had made you laugh.

Now, you had to wonder if there was anyone that was making your stomach flip and making you dismiss anyone else. It wasn't the Avengers. You'd been in the changing room with Natasha, the Black fucking Widow, two days ago, and she'd strutted up to you in nothing but her bra and underwear. You hadn't even bat an eyelash as she'd asked you if you wanted to get some Chinese food after the mission (but you had said yes, of course).

"Yeah. Maybe."

Her words had knocked some serious sense into you. You definitely had a crush on someone, and it had definitely been impairing your ability to get out on a date. That someone was around so little, though, that you hadn't realized right away just how you felt for them. Maybe if she visited Earth a little more often, you'd have realized why you blushed so deeply when she'd crawled into bed with you last night or right now.

"Who is it, then?"

Carol had a girlfriend. It may have been on-again-off-again, but she had a girlfriend. You were not now, nor ever, someone who would come between that. You were going to let her be happy with someone who was making her happy and you were going to be happy for her. You plastered a smile onto your face and reached into the bowl of popcorn that sat on your lap, letting the snack cloud the feelings of jealousy that you knew now weren't jealousy of a relationship, but if Carol.

"Nat."

Carol didn't miss a single beat. "Liar."

You glared at her. "The fuck do you mean? Telling me who I do and do not like?"

"I know who has your heart right now. It isn't Nat."

This time when she reached for the popcorn, she leaned over. To support her weight, her hand came to rest on your upper thigh. You had to refrain from reacting. You sucked the inside of your cheek between your teeth, biting hard on it to suppress any sort of reaction that Carol would have noticed. It seemed to have worked. She grabbed a small handful and then backed away, the pressure of her hand disappearing from your limb.

"Yeah? Who is it, then?"

"Someone that likes you back."

"And who says Nat doesn't?"

You might have actually been offended if it weren't Carol you were talking to. You were good enough for Natasha, right? She was practically a goddess in respect to her looks, but you were something, too. Not that you liked Natasha in that way. She was a friend. Carol was the one that you cared about. Something about that sweet smile and that confidence mixed with an innocence she had after being away from Earth for so long warmed your heart every time.

"Fair," Carol admitted. "But you know, you're pretty oblivious. With all the hints I've been dropping, you'd think you'd have realized your feelings are reciprocated."

"What?"

"I like you, dumbass. More than a friend likes a friend."

Your jaw might have dropped. You coughed, choking on the popcorn that you'd been eating as you whirled to face the blonde. She had a twinkle in her eyes, and a giggle escaped her lips when she saw the expression on your face. She tossed a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it in her mouth. She chewed on it as she waited, arms crossed, for you to collect yourself. Finally, after a long drink of water, you calmed.

"Pardon?"

"You're an idiot," she mumbled.

Then she grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you closer. You didn't fail to notice, as your lips moved against hers, that she moved the popcorn bowl so that it wouldn't spill. It seemed completely unimportant, though. You felt everything starting to melt away into Carol Danvers. Her lips were talented and kissing her felt like an intricate sport and suddenly you needed to breathe. When you pushed away, you realized what you'd done wrong.

Her feelings to you didn't matter. She had a girlfriend. Unless that fact changed, she and you didn't get to be more than your friend. You pushed her even further away. You knew she had the ability to, but she didn't resist. You backed off a little further so that your bodies were completely separated. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but she didn't push. She even waited for you to speak first. Your eyes wouldn't meet hers.

"You have a girlfriend."

"I just said that to make you jealous," she scoffed.

You immediately got defensive. "I was not jealous."

"You were so!"

"Shut up."

She did. You suspected the only reason she had shut up was because she was kissing you again. It didn't matter. You were on cloud nine. You felt right again. You felt more right now than you ever had. Carol was exactly what you had needed for longer than you could figure out right then. She was clouding your thoughts and, honestly, you couldn't have cared less. You didn't want to think about anything besides how good her lips felt on yours right then.

You couldn't even find it in yourself to be mad at her for the little stunt she had pulled. You could only be glad that this so-called girlfriend wasn't actually real, and was just a part of her stupid plan. Without the girlfriend, you were free to kiss her as much as she would let you. Judging by how she was kissing you now, she wasn't going to stop you anytime soon. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip as she pulled away, not moving more than an inch from your lips, though.

The hand that clasped your shirt uncurled. She pressed her hand flat against the centre of your chest, pushing you onto your back. You had to chuckle as her knees pressed into the ground on either side of your waist. She kissed your nose once, scowling at the laughs that were beginning to bubble from your chest. You leaned up and kissed her lips for a brief moment, before using a hand to caress her cheek and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing. You were right," you stated. "I'm kinda glad you were right."

"You're kind of glad? Can you imagine how stupid I'd have looked if I were wrong?" Carol laughed.

"Quite," you agreed with a nod.

You pulled her down next to you, wrapping your arms around her and feeling hers do the same to you. You pressed your forehead against hers, taking the time to admire her smiling face. She giggled a little, pecking your lips quickly. She didn't linger, though, having been preoccupied in reaching over your shoulder into the bowl of popcorn once more. She shoved a few pieces into her mouth and chewed happily.

"Care-Bear, what's more important: me or snacks?"

"You are a snack."

You gaped. "How the hell did you learn that term?"

She shrugged. "I hear things."

You rolled your eyes, pushing her away from you. She let you, reaching for her water bottle to wash down some of the salty flavour that had come off the popcorn. She offered you some water, which you accepted. When you finished and handed the bottle back to her, she pulled you close to her. Your body moved until it was flush against hers. Her torso was so warm you could've fallen asleep right then and there.

"You're more important."

Being more important than snacks, in the opinion of Carol Danvers, was just about the highest compliment you could have received.

[allthingsfern]

Reply and new possible photo submissions

First, I want to thank you all for your replies to my post asking for feedback  re my selection of 2 possible photo submissions to the 2022 SF Art 4 AIDS Auction.

photographybyamyjennings

I'm not sure about the portrait.. if you wantd to go a different route to another building image.. what about one of your car images, OR if you wanted to go color, the red blue and yellow lights is a very strong image.. imo, for what it's worth

I agree, @photographybyamyjennings, but I want to submit this one for the reasons of the message(s) it conveys to the SF gay community. But yes, I get it, and maybe for next year?

lindenardenshighlights

the 'portrait', I think, is nothing special as portraiture, but as a submission to the Aids Auction could be appreciated for the message on the t-shirt.  The architecture image, as with so many of your architecture photos, is quite striking--something that   almost anyone would like to hang on their wall.

Yes, @lindenardenshighlights, I concur re the portrait, both that it is not that special and the message. To me, the gay man who obviously was a war veteran and stands for BLM and other great causes for peace and acceptance, is very powerful. Plus, in his posture itself, I sense an unshakeable pride in him that moves me.

bwwhitney

I am not qualified to comment about a photo with a person. The building is a good photo, but, in my opinion, it doesn’t have the “hit me over the head and knock me down” quality of some of your other buildings.

Oh, @bwwhitney, you are more than qualified, even if you don’t do people pics, but I get it. And your observation re the architecture photo made reconsider my choice for that type of photo, since I see what you mean and I also want to go with something of more classic SF modern architecture. See below.

matthewschiavello

yay for donating your art to great causes! I like your portraiture work, but in this one , I find the orange cone and yellow light on the left distracting...so.. based on that would personally go for the architecture shot.

@matthewschiavello​, yep. So I opted to go B&W. Totally agree with you.

gedditor

Nice balance - the portrait will grab those for whom it’s all about people, and those who like some explicit messaging (probably well represented among auction bidders for an excellent cause?); while the architectural b&w will start a bidding war among the aesthetes. Maybe not your strongest portrait, because the multiple messaging dominates so that your magical thing with the gaze gets less chance to go to work on the viewer, perhaps?

@gedditor​, Thank you for your compliment. Made me laugh, the idea of “a bidding war among the aesthetes.“ My work, appealing to aesthetes? Wow, but I see your point. Just never thought of my work that way. Re the portrait, completely agree, but I am going with it in B&W because of the emotional heft (I think). I noticed that past auction items seem to not address the AIDS/LGBTQIA+ issue head on.

Since I can submit as many photos as I want, but they will only select 2, I am sticking to my 1 architecture, 1 portrait submission. Here are my new options for the architecture photo:

And this is the portrait in B&W

[diamond-coral]

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave  a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down. 

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America. 

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.” 

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot. 

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. 

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”